^' h ; (KETCHE: Iw ,# ©LB. m ' r N ii rnATE©. •MMMNtMiMHMMUlMlMMMMMtl HM— ww wMin nii iiii i iiMi i iii i i i i w illii ■ m ill MMMW O. p. FITZGERALD. (1895.) California Sketches. NEW AND OLD /f-^ BY BISHOP OfP/FlTZGERALD ILLUSTRATED. '■^Atid one upon the West Turned an eye that tvould not rest, For far-off hills whereon his Joys had been,^^ Nashville, Tenn.: Publishing House ok the M. E. Church, South Barbee & Smith, Agents. 1895. Entered, according to Act of (Congress, in the year 1894, Bv O. P. Fitzgerald, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. In Exchange Univ. of North Garoli«a JAN 31 1934 • • • • • • • -.• THE AUTHOR TO THE READER. If these California Sketches, new and old, shall be- guile a lonely hour, or rouse a kindlier feeling or higher aspiration in any human soul, I shall be satisfied. The Author. July, 1894. PREFACE TO THIS CONSOLIDATED EDITION. Soon after these Sketches first came out in book form, the suggestion was made to me by friendly read- ers that they should be illustrated. Successive editions have been printed from the original plates, and the kindly appreciation of the reading public has encour- aged me to bring out a new edition in a single volume, in which some ne^v Sketches are introduced and some of the older ones are omitted. The two former volumes are thrown into one, and the price put at a figure that will place it within the reach of all sorts of readers. This new and consolidated edition has pictures illus- trating the text. Whether these pictures have en- hanced the interest of the work, the future will deter- mine. The artist was left to follow his own taste in the choice and treatment of subjects. This statement will relieve the author from any imputation of undue " subjectivity " in these pictorial delineations. To the old friends and the new these Sketches are presented as they are, with the hope that they will not only furnish entertainment for leisure moments, but leave in the reader's mind a deposit of profitable sug- gestion and gracious inspiration. O. P. Fitzgerald. July, 1895. (4) CONTENTS. Page My First Sunday in the Mines 7 r- .12 CiSSAH A Lost on Table Mountain ^3 Fulton -^^ The Fatal Twist 37 Stranded 4^ LOCKLEY 4^ An Interview 53 Father Cox "^ The Ethics of Grizzly Hunting <'>7 Stewart • • • 74 'a Mendocino Murder 8i My First California Camp Meeting 87 The Tragedy AT Algerine 95 The Blue Lakes loi Old Tuolumne 106 Ben 107 A Youthful Desperado no North Beach, San Francisco 114 My Mining Speculation 122 Dick 125 The Diggers i33 Father Fisher 144 The California Madhouse 153 The Reblooming 161 San QuENTiN 168 Tod Robinson 177 Jack White 184 Camilla Cain 190 corraled 192 The Rabbi 203 Ah Lee 209 6 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. Page CcELA Vista 214 The Emperor Norton 215 Buffalo Jomes 221 Suicide in California 227 Mike Reese 238 Uncle Nolan 245 Old Man Lowry 250 The California Politician 2515 Bishop Kavanaugh in California 265 A Day 276 California Traits 284 Father Acolti 29^ California Weddings 299 How the Money Came 312 Having Some Fun 316 At the End 318 MY FIRST SUNDAY IN THE MINES. SONORA, in 1855, was an exciting, wild, wicked, fascinating place. Gold dust and gamblers were plentiful. A rich mining camp is a bonanza to the sporting fraterni- ty. The peculiar excitement of mining is near akin to gambling, and seems to prepare the gold hunter for the faro bank and monte table. The life was free and spiced with tragedy. The men were reckless, the women few and not wholly select. The convemionalities of older commu- nities were ignored. People dressed and talked as they pleased, and were a law unto themselves. Even a parson could gallop at full speed through a mining camp without exciting remark. To me it was all new, and at first a little bewildering, but there was a charm about it that lingers pleasantly in the memory after the lapse of all these long years from 1855 to date. Sonora was a picture unique in its beauty as I first looked down upon it from the crest of the highest hill above the town that bright May morn- ing. The air was exhilarating, electric. The sky was deep blue, without a speck of cloud. The town lay stretched between two ranges of hills, the cozy cottages and rude cabins straggling along their sides, while the full tide of life flowed through Washington Street in the center, where thousands of miners jostled one another as they moved to and fro. High hills encircled the place on all sides protectingly, and Bald Mountain, dark and (7) 8 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. bare, lifted above all the rest, seemed to watch the queen city of the mines like a dusky duenna. The far-off Sierras, white and cold, lay propped against the sky like shrouded giants under their winding sheets of snow. Near me stood a lone pine which had escaped the ruthless ax because there was a grave under it marked by a rude cross. Descending to the main street again, I found it crowded with flannel-shirted men. They seemed to be excited, judging from their loud tones and fierce gesticulations. " They have caught Felipe at French Camp, and they will have him here b}^ ten o'clock," said one of a group near me. *' Yes, and the boys are getting ready to swing the cursed greaser when he gets here,"' said an- other, savagely. On inquir}^, I learned that the gentleman for whose arrival such preparation was being made was a Mexican who had stabbed to the heart a policeman named Sheldon two nights before. The assassin fled the town, but the sheriff and his posse had gotten on his track, and, pursuing rapidly, had overtaken him at French Camp, and were now re- turning with their prisoner in charge. Sheldon was a good-natured, generous fellow, popular with the '* boys." He was brave to a fault, perhaps a little too ready at times to use his pistol. Two Mexicans had been shot by him since his call to police duty, and, though the Americans justified him in so doing, the Mexicans cherished a bitter feeling toward him. Sheldon knew that he was hated by those swarthy fellows whose strong point is not forgiveness of enemies, and not long before the tragedy was heard to say, in a half-serious tone : " I expect to die in my boots." Poor fellow! it came sooner than he thought. C5 " The first man that touches that jail door dies^^ MY FIRST SUNDAY IN THE MINES. 9 By ten o'clock Washington Street was densely thronged by red and blue shirted men, whose re- marks showed that they were ripe for mischief. "Hang him, I say! If we allow the officers who watch for our protection when we are asleep to be murdered in this way, nobody is safe. I say hang him! " shouted a thick-chested miner, grit- ting his teeth. ''That's the talk! swing him!" '* Hang him ! " "Put cold lead through him! " and such like ex- pressions were heard on all sides. Suddenly there was a rush of the crowd toward the point where Washington Street intersected with the Jamestown road. Then the tide flowed back- ward, and came surging by the place where I was standing. " There he comes ! at him, boys ! " "A rope ! a rope! " *' Go for him! " shouted a hundred voices. The object of the popular execration, guarded by the sheriff and a posse of about twenty men, was hurried along in the middle of the street, his hat gone, his bosom bare, a red sash around his waist. He was a bad-looking fellow, and in the rapid glances he cast at the angry crowd around him there was more of hate than fear. The flashes of his dark eyes made one think of the gleam of the deadly Spanish dirk. The twenty picked men guarding him had each a revolver in his hand, with Maj. Solomon, the sheriff, at their head. The mob knew Solomon. He had distinguished himself for cool courage in the Mexican war, and they were well aware that those pistols were pa- raded for use if occasion demanded. The prisoner was taken into the Placer Hotel, where the coroner's jury was held, the mob sur- rounding the building and roaring like a sea. "There they come! go for him, boys! " was lO CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. shouted as the doors were flung open, and FeHpe appeared, attended by his guard. A rush was made, but there was Solomon with his twenty men pistol in hand, and no man dared to lay a hand on the murderer. With steady step they marched to the jail, the crowd parting as the sheriff and his posse advanced, and the prisoner was hurried inside and the doors locked. Bafl^ed thus, for a few moments the mob was silent, and then it exploded with imprecations and yells: *' Break open the door! " '*Tear down the jail!" ** Bring him out!" "Who has a rope?" "Out with him!" Cool and collected, Solomon stood on the door- step, his twenty men standing holding their revolv- ers ready. The County Judge Quint attempted to address the excited mass, but his voice was drowned by their yells. The silver-tongued Henry P. Barber, an orator born, and whose sad career would make a romance of thrilling interest, essayed to speak, but even his magic voice was lost in the tornado of popular fury. I had climbed a high fence above the jail yard, where the whole scene was before me. When Barber gave up the attempt to get a hearing from the mob, there was a momentary silence. Solo- mon saw the opportunity, and, lifting his hand, he said : ' ' Will you hear me a moment ? I am not fool enough to think that with these twenty men I can whip this crowd. You can overcome us by your numbers and kill us if you choose. Perhaps you will do it — I am ready for that. I don't say I can prevent you, but I do say" — and here his eye kindled and his voice had a steel-like ring — " the first man that touches that jail door dies! " There was a perceptible thrill throughout that ■dense mass of human beings. No man volunteered MY FIRST SUNDAY IN THE MINES. II to lead an assault on the jail door. Solomon fol- lowed up this stroke: " Boys, when you take time to reflect, you will see that this is all wrong. I was elected by your votes, and you are acting in bad faith when you put me in a position where 1 must violate my sworn duty or hght you. This is the holy Sabbath da}'. Back in our old homes we have been used to different scenes from this. The prisoner will be kept, and tried, and duly pun- ished by the law. Let us give three cheers for the clergy of California, two of whom I see pres- ent [pointing to where my Presbyterian neighbor, the Rev. S. S. Harmon, and I were perched con- spicuously], and then go home like good citizens." Courage and tact prevailed. The mob was con- quered. The cheers were given wath a will, the crowd melted away, and in a few minutes the jail yard was clear. I lingered alone, and was struck with the sud- den transition. The sun was sinking in the west, already the town below was wrapped in shade, the tops of the encircling hills caught the lingering beams, the loftier crest of Bald Mountain blazing as if it were a mass of burnished gold. It was the calm and glory of nature in sharp contrast with the turbulence and brutality of men. Wending my way back to the hotel, I seated myself on the piazza of the second story, and watched the motley crowd going in and out of the '* Long Tom ' ' drinking and gambling saloon across the street, musing upon the scenes of my first Sun- day in the mines. CISSAHA. 1 FIRST noticed him one night at prayer meet- ing at Sonera, in the Southern Mines, in 1855. He came in timidly, and took a seat near the door. His manner was reverent, and he watched the exercises with curious interest, his eyes following ever}^ gesture of the preacher, and his ears losing not a word that was said or sung. I was struck with his peculiar ph^^siognomy as he sat there with his thin, swarthy face, his soft, sad black eyes, and long black hair. I could not make him out; he might be Mexican, Spanish, Portu- guese, "Kanaka," or what not. He waited un- til I passed out at the close of the meeting, and, bowing very humbly, placed half a dollar in my hand, and walked away. This happened several weeks in succession, and I noticed him at church on Sunday evenings. He would come in after the crowd had entered, and take his place near the door. He never failed to hand me the half dol- lar at the close of every service, his dark, wist- ful-looking eyes lighting up with pleasure as I took the coin from his hand. He never waited to talk, but hurried off at once. My curiosity was excited, and I began to feel a special interest in this strange-looking foreigner. I was sitting one morning in the little room on the hillside, which was at once dining room, par- lor, bedchamber, and study, when, lifting my eyes a moment from the book I was reading, there stood my strange foreigner in the door. " Come in," 1 said kindly. (12) CISSAIIA. 13 Making profound salaams, he ruslied impulsive- ly toward me, exclaiming in broken English: "My good brahmin!" "My good brahmin!" with a torrent of words I could not understand. I invited him to take a seat, but he dechned. He looked flushed and excited, his dark eyes flash- ing. I soon found that he could understand Eng- lish much better than he could speak it himself. *' What is your name ! " I asked. '* Cissaha," he answered, accenting strongly the last syllable. "Of what nation are you?" was my next question. ** Me Hindoo — me good caste," he added rather proudly. After gratifying my curiosity by answering my many questions, he told his business with me. It was with great difficulty that I could make out what he said ; his pronunciation was sadly imper- fect at best, and when he talked himself into an excited state his speech was a curious jargon of confused and strange sounds. The substance of his story was, that, though belonging to a caste which was above such work, necessity had forced him to take the place of a cook in a miners' board- ing house at a notorious camp called aptly Whisky Hill, which was about three miles from Sonora. After six months' service, the proprietor of the establishment had dismissed him with no other pay than a bogus title to a mining claim. When the poor fellow went to take possession, the rightful owners drove him away with many blows and much of that peculiarly emphatic profanit}^ for which California was rather noted in those early days. On going back to his employer with the story of his failure to get possession of the min- ing claim, he was driven away with cursings and threats, without a dollar for months of hard work. 14 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. This was Cissaha's story. He had come to me for redress. I felt no little sympathy for him as he stood before me, so helpless in a strange land. He had been shamefully wronged, and I felt indig- nant at the recital. But I told him that while I was sorry for him, I could do nothing; he had bet- ter put the case in the hands of a lawyer. I sug- gested the name of one. ** No, no ! "he said passionately; " you my good brahmin; 3'ou go Whisky Hill, you make Flank Powell pay my money! " He seemed to think that as a teacher of religion I must be invested also with some sort of authority in civil matters. I could not make him under- stand that this was not so. " You ride horse, me walk; Flank Powell see my good ^brahmin come, he- pay money/' urged Cissaha. Yielding to a sudden impulse, I told him I would go with him. He bowed almost to the floor, and the tears, which had flowed freely as he told his tale of wrongs, w^ere wiped away. Mounting Dr. Jack Franklin's sorrel horse — my pen pauses as I write the name of that noble Ten- nesseean, that true and generous friend — I started to Whisky Hill, my client keeping alongside on foot. As we proceeded, I could not help feeling that I was on a sort of fool's errand. It was certainly a new role for me. But my sympathy had been ex- cited, and I fortified myself by repeating mentally all those scriptures of the Old and New Testa- ments which enjoin kindness to strangers. I found that Cissaha was well known in the camp, and that he was generally liked. Every- body seemed to know how he had been treated, and the popular feeling was on his side. Several CISSAHA. 15 parties confirmed his statement of the case in every particuhir. Walking along among the mining claims, with a proud and coniident air he would point to me, saying: " There my good brahmin — he make Flank Powell pay my money now." *' Powell is a rough customer," said a tall young fellow from New York, who stood near the trail with a pick in his hand ; " he will give you trouble before you get through with him." Cissaha only shook his head in a knowing way and hastened on, keeping my sorrel in a brisk trot. A stout and ill-dressed woman was standing in the porch of Mr. Powell's establishment as I rode up. *' Is Mr Powell at home? " I asked. *'Yes; he is in the house," she said dryly, scowling alternately at Cissaha and me. ** Please tell him that I would like to see him." She went into the house after giving us a part- ting angry glance, and in a few minutes Mr. Pow- ell made his appearance. He looked the ruffian that he was all over. A huge fellow, with enor- mous breadth between the shoulders, and the chest of a bull, with a fiery red face, blear blue eyes red at the corners, coarse sandy hair, and a villainous tout c//s^w^/^ every way, he was as bad a specimen of my kind as I had ever met. " What do 3'ou want with me? " he growled out, after taking a look at us. *'I understand," I answered in my blandest tones, " that there has been some difficulty in mak- incr a settlement between vou and this Hindoo man, and at his request I have come over to see if I can help to adjust it." *' Damn you! " said the ruffian, *' if you come here meddling with my affairs, Pll knock you off that horse." l6 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. He was a rough customer to look at just then. Cissaha looked a little alarmed, and drew near- er to me. I looked the man in the eye and answered: ** I am not afraid of any violence at your hands. You dare not attempt it. You have cruelly wronged this poor foreigner, and you know it. Every man in the camp condemns you for it, and is ashamed of your conduct. Now, I intend to see this thing through. I will devote a year to it and spend every dollar I can raise if necessary to make you pay this debt! " By this time quite a crowd of miners had gath- ered around us, and there were unmistakable ex- pressions of approval of my speech. ** That's the rio;ht sort of talk!" exclaimed a grizzly-bearded man in a red shirt. *' Stand up to him, parson! " said another. There was a pause. Powell, as I learned after- ward, was detested in the camp. He had the reputation of a bully and a cheat. I think he was likewise a coward. At any rate, as I warmed with virtuous indignation, he cooled. Perhaps he did not like the expressions on the faces of the rough, athletic men standing around. *' What do you want me to do? " he asked in a sullen tone. *' I want you to pay this man what you owe him," I answered. The negotiations begun thus unpromisingly end- ed very happily. After making some deduction on some pretext or other, the money was paid, much to my relief and the joy of my client. Mr. Powell indulged m no parting courtesies, nor did he tender me the hospitalities of his house. I have never seen him from that day to this. I have never wished to renew his acquaintance. Cissaha marched back to Sonora in triumph. CISSAHA. 17 A few days after the Whisky Hill adventure, as I was sitting on the rear side of the little parson- age to get the benefit of the shade, I had another visit from Cissaha. He had on his shoulder a miner's pick and shovel, which he laid down at my feet. " What is that for? " I asked. " ^fy good brahmin look at pick and shobel, then no break, and find heap gold," said he, his face full of trust and hopefulness. I cast a kindly glance at the implements, and did not think it worth while to combat his inno- cent superstition. If good wishes could have brought him good luck, the poor fellow would have prospered in his search after gold. From that time on he was scarcely ever absent from church services, never omitting to pay his weekly half dollar. More than once I observed the tears running down his cheeks as he sat near the door, eye and ear all attent to the service. A da}^ or two before my departure for Confer- ence, at the end of m}^ two years in Sonora, Cis- saha made me a visit. He looked sad and anxious. "You go way?" he inquired. "Yes; I must go," I answered. " You no come back Sonora? " he asked. " No; I cannot come back," I said. He stood a moment, his chest heaving with emotion, and then said: "Me go with you, me live where you live, me die where you die," al- most the very words of the fair young Moabite. Cissaha went with us. How could I refuse to take him? At San Jose he lived with us, doing our cooking, nursing our little Paul, and making himself generally useful. He taught us to love curry and to eat cucinnbers Hindoo fashion — that is, stewed with veal or chicken. He was the gen- 2 l8 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. tlest and most docile of servants, never out of temper, and always anxious to please. Little Paul was very fond of him, and often he would take him off in his baby wagon, and they would be gone for hours together. He never tired of asking questions about the Christian religion, and manifested a peculiar delight in the words and life of Jesus. One day he came into my study and said: " Me want you to make me Christian." '' I can't make you a Christian; Jesus can do it," I answered. He looked greatly puzzled and troubled at this reply, but when I had explained the whole matter to him he brightened up and intimated that he wanted to join the Church. I enrolled his name as a probationer, and his delight was unbounded. One day Cissaha came to me all smiling, and said: " Me want to give all the preachers one big dinner." "Very w^ell," I answered; "I will let you do so. How many do you want?" "Me want heap preachers, table all full," he said. He irave me to understand that the feast must be altogether his own — his money must buy every- thing, even to the salt and pepper for seasoning the dishes. He would use nothing that was in the house, but bought flour, fowls, beef, vegetables, confectionery, coffee, tea, everything for the great occasion. He made a grand dinner, not forgetting the curry, and w^ith a table full of preachers to enjoy it he was a picture of happi- ness. His dark face beamed with delight as he handed around the viands to the smiling and ap- preciative guests. He had some Hindoo notion that there was great merit in feasting so man}- be- CISSAHA. 19 longing to the brahmin caste. To him the dinner was a sort of sacrifice most acceptable to Heaven. My Oriental domestic seemed very happy for some months, and became a general favorite on account of his gentle manners, docile temper, and obliging disposition. His name was shortened to *' Tom " by the popular usage, and under the in- structions of the mistress of the parsonage he be- gan the study of English. Poor fellow! he never could make the sound of f or z, the former ahvays turning to p^ and the latter to g^ upon his tongue. I believe there are no p's or g's in the Hindoo- stanee. A change came over Cissaha. He became all at once moody and silent. Several times I found him in tears. Something was the matter with him. That was clear. One afternoon the secret came out. He came into my room. There were traces of tears on his cheeks. '' I go 'way — can stay with my pather [father] no more, ' he said with a quiver in his voice. " Why, what is the matter? " I asked. ** Debbil in here," he answered, touching his forehead. '' Debbil tell me drink whisky; me no drink where my pather stay, so must go." " Why, I did not know you ever drank whisky; where did you learn that? " I asked. ''Me drink wdth the boys at Flank Powell's — drink beer and whisky. No drink for long time, but debbil in here [touching his forehead] say 7nust drink." He was a picture of shame and grief as he stood there before me. How hard he must have fouirht agamst the appetite for strong drink since he had been with me I And how full of shame and sor- row he was to confess his weakness to me ! He 20 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. told me all about it: how he had been treated to beer and whisky by the good-natured miners, and how the taste for liquor had grown on him, and how he had resisted for a time, and how he had at last yielded to the feeling that the devil was too strong for him. That the devil was in it, he seemed to have no doubt. And truly it was so — the crudest, deadliest of devils, the devil of drink! As a Hindoo, in his own countr}^ no strong drink had ever passed his lips. The fiery potations of Whisk}? Hill were too much for him. *' You should pray, Cissaha." '* Me pray all night, but debbil too strong — me must drink whisk}^ " he said vehemently. He left us. The parting was very sad to him and us. He had a special cry over Httle Paul. "You my pather [to me]; you my mother [to my wife] ; I go, but me pack you both always in my belly!" We could but smile through our tears. The poor fellow meant to say he would still bear us in his grateful heart in his wanderings. After a few months he came to see us. He looked seedy and sad. He had found employ- ment, but did not stay long at a place. He had stopped awhile with a Presbyterian minister in the Sacramento Valley, and was solicited by him to join the Church. "Me tell him no I " he said, his e3^e flashing; " me tell him my pather done make me Christian; me no want to be made Christian again." The poor fellow was true to his first love, sad Christian as he was. " Me drink no whisky for four, five week, — me now try to stop. Give me prayer to say when debbil get in here," touching his head. That was what he had come for chiefly. I gave CISSAHA. 21 him the form of a short and simple prayer. He repeated it after me in his way until he had it by heart, and then he left. Once or twice a year he came to see us, and al- ways had a pathetic tale to tell of his struggles with strong drink, and the greed and violence of men who were tempted to oppress and maltreat a poor creature whose weakness invited injustice. He told us of an adventure when acting as a sheep herder in Southern California, whither he had wandered. A large flock of sheep which he had in charge had been disturbed in the corral a couple of nights in succession. On the third night, hearing a commotion among them, he sprang up from his bunk and rushed out to see what was the matter. But let him tell the story: *' Me run out to see what's matter; stars shine blight; me get into corral; sheep all bery much scared, and bery much run, and bery much jump. Big black bear jump over corral fence and come right for me. Me so flighten me know nothing, but raise my arms, run at bear, and say, E-e-e-e-e'c! " prolonging the shrill scream and be- coming terribly excited as he went on. *' Well, how did it end? " I asked. " Me scream so loud that bear get scared too, and he turn, run bery fast, jump over corral, and run away." We did not doubt this stor3\ The narration was too vivid to have been invented, and that scream was enough to upset the nerves of any grizzl3\ We ""ot to lookin/' sniciilr .' (55) AN INTERVIEW. 57 purpose, I was full of hope and energy. On the ship that took me to California 1 made the ac- quaintance and fell into the snares of a beautiful but unprincipled woman, for whom I toiled and sacrificed everything for eight years of weakness and folly, never remitting a dollar to those I had intended to provide for at home, carrying all the while an uneasy conscience and despising myself. I made immense sums of money, but it all went for nothing but to feed the extravagance and reck- lessness of my evil genius. Tortured by remorse, I made many struggles to free myself from the evil connection that blighted my life, but in vain. I had almost ceased to struggle against my fate, when death lifted the shadow from my path. The unhappy woman died, and I w^as free. I was as- tonished to find how rapid and how^ complete was the reaction from my despair. I felt like a new man. The glowing hopes that had been smothered revived, and I felt something of the buoyancy and energy with which I had left my New England hills. I worked hard, and prospered. I made money, and saved it, making occasional remit- tances to the family at home, who were overjoyed to hear from me after my long and guilty silence. I hadn't the heart to w^-ite to them while pursuing my evil life. I had learned to gamble, of course, but now I resolved to quit it. For two years I kept this resolution, and had in the meantime saved over six thousand dollars. Do you believe that the devil tempts men? I tell you, sir, it is true ! I began to feel a strange desire to visit some of my old haunts. This feeling became in- tense, overmastering. My judgment and con- science protested, but I felt like one under a spell. I yielded, and found my way to a well-known gambling hell, where I lost every dollar of my 58 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. hard-earned money. It was like a dream — I seemed to be drawn on to my ruin by some invisi- ble but resistless evil power. When I had lost all a strange calm came over me, which I have never understood. It may have been the reaction, after nights of feverish excitement, or possibly it was the unnatural calm that follows the death of hope. My self-contempt was complete. No language could have expressed the intensity of my self- scorn. I sneaked to my lodgings, feeling that I had somehow parted with my manhood as well as my money. The very next day I was surprised by the offer of a lucrative subordinate position in a federal office in San Francisco. This was not the first coincidence of the sort in my life, where an unexpected influence had been brought to bear upon me, giving my plans and prospects a new di- rection. Has God anything to do with these things? or is it accident? I took the place which was offered to me, and went to work with renewed hope and energy. I made a vow against gam- bling, and determined to recover all I had thrown away. I saved every dollar possible, pinching myself in my living and supplementing my liberal salary by literary labors. My savings had again run high up in the thousands, and my gains were steady. The Frazer River mining excitement broke out. An old friend of mine came to me and asked the loan of a hundred dollars to help him off to the new mines. I told him he should have the money, and that I would have it ready for him that afternoon. After he had left, the thought occurred to me that one hundred dollars was a very poor outfit for such an enterprise, and that he ought to have more. Then the thought was suggested — yes, sir, it was suggxsted — that I might take the hundred dollars to a faro bank and AN INTERVIEW. 59 win another hundred to place in the hands of my friend. I was fully resolved to risk not a cent be- yond this. The idea took possession of my mind, and when he came for the money I told him my plan, and proposed that he accompany me to the gambling hell. He was a free-and-easy sort of fellow, and readily assented. We went together, and after alternate successes and losses at the faro bank, it ended in the usual way: I lost the hundred dollars. I went home in a frenzy of anger and self-reproach. The old passion was roused again. A wild determination to break the faro bank took hold of me. I went night after night, betting recklessly until not a dollar was left. This hap- pened last week. Can you wonder that I have concluded there is no hope for as weak a fool as lam?" He paused a moment in his rapid recital, pacing the floor with his hand on the hammer of the pis- tol, which he had taken up. " Now, sir, candidly, don't you think that the best thing I can do is to blow out my brains?" said he, cocking the pistol as he spoke. The thouoht occurred to me that it was no un- common thing for the suicidal to give way to the homicidal mania. The man was evidently half mad, and ready for a tragedy. That pistol seemed almost instinct with conscious evil intention. If a suicide or a homicide was to end the scene, I pre- ferred the former. " How old are you?" I asked, aiming to create a diversion. *' I am forty-five," he answered, apparently brought to a little more recollection of himself by the question. *'I should think," I continued, having arrested his attention, " that whatever may have been 3^our follies, and however dark the future you have to 6o CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. face, you have too much manhood to sneak out of life by the back door of suicide/' The shot struck. An instantaneous change passed over his countenance. Suicide appeared to him in a new Hght — as a cowardly, not a heroic act. He had been fascinated with the notion of having the curtain fall upon his career amid the blaze of blue lights and the glamour of romance and the dignity of tragedy, with the wonder of the crowd and the tears of the sentimental. That was all gone — the suicide was but a poor creature, weak as well as wicked. He was saved. He sunk into a chair as he handed me the pistol, which I was very glad indeed to get into my hands. *' You should be ashamed of 3^ourself, sir," I continued. "You are only forty-five years old; you are in perfect health, with almost a giant's strength, a classical education, extensive business experience, and a knowledge of the world gained by your very mistakes that should be a guarantee against the possibility of their repetition. A brave man should never give up the battle ; the bravest men never give up. ^' Give me the pistol," he said quietly; "you need not be afraid to trust me with it. The devil has left me. I will not act the part of a coward. You will hear from me again. Perm.it me to thank you. Good morning." I did hear from him again. The devil seemed indeed to have left him. He went to British Co- lumbia, where he prospered in business and got rich, became a pillar in the Church of which his father was one of the great lights, and committed not suicide, but matrimony, marrying a sweet and cultured English girl, who thinks her tall yankee husband the handsomest and noblest of men. FATHER COX. F 1 ATHER COX was a physical and intellect- ual phenomenon. He was of immense girth, weighing more than three hundred pounds. His face was ruddy, and almost as smooth as that of a child, his hair snow- white and fine as floss silk, his eyes a deep blue, his features small. His great size, and the con- trast between the infantile freshness of his skin and white hair, made him a notable man in the largest crowd. He was converted and joined the Methodist Church, after he had passed his fiftieth year. He had been, as he himself phrased it, the keeper of a *' doggery," and was, no doubt, a rough cus- tomer. Reaching California by wa}^ of Texas, he at once began to preach. His st3de took with the CalifornianS; great crowds flocked to hear him, and marvelous effects were produced. He was a fine judge of human nature, and knew the direct way to the popular heart. Under his preaching men wept, prayed, repented, believed, and flocked into the Church by scores and hundreds. Father Cox was in his glory at a camp meeting. To his gift of exhortation was added that of song. He had a voice like a flute in its softness and purity of tone, and his solos before and after preaching melted and broke the hard heart of many a wild and reckless Calif ornian. His sagacity and knowledge of human nature were exhibited at one of his camp meetings held at Gilroy, in Santa Clara County. There was a (61) 62 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. great crowd and a great religious excitement, Fa- ther Cox riding its topmost wave, the general of the army of Israel. Seated in the preachers' stand, he was leading in one of the spirited lyrics suited to the occasion, w^hen a young man ap- proached him and said: " Father Cox, there's a friend of mine out here who wants you to come and pra}^ for him." '' Where is he?" " Just out there on the edge of the crowed," an- swered the young fellow. Father Cox followed him to the outskirts of the congregation, where he found a group of rough- looking fellows standing around, with their leg- gings and huge Spanish spurs, in the center of w^hich a man was seen kneeling, with his face buried between his hands. *' There he is," said the guide. *' Is he a friend of yours, gentlemen?" asked Father Cox, turning to the expectant group. '* Yes," answered one of them. *'And you want me to pray for him, do you? " he continued. " We do," was the answer. *'A11 right; all of you kneel down, and I'll pray for him." They looked at one another in confusion, and then one by one they sheepishly kneeled until all were down. Father Cox kneeled down by the ** mourner," and prayed as follows: "O Lord, thou knowest all things. Thou knowest whether this man is a sincere penitent or not. If he is sincere!}^ sorry for his sins, and is bowing before thee with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, have mercy upon him, hear his prayer, pardon his transgres- sions, give him thy peace, and make him thy FATIIICR COX. 63 child. But, O Lord, if he is not in earnest, if he is here as an emissary of Satan, to make mock- ery of sacred things, and to hinder thy work, kill him — kill him. Lord "' — At this point the ''mourner" became fright- ened, and began to crawl. Father Cox following him on his knees, and continuing his prayer. The terror-stricken sinner could stand it no longer, but spran/ici/ii/i:^ . (83) A MENDOCINO MURDER. 85 Strong, with a woman's peculiar talent for provo- cation, rather presumed on her sex in ignoring their claims, at the same time forfeiting all right to consideration on that score by violent language and unwomanly taunts whenever she met them. According to the most charitable theory (and to me it seems the most reasonable), Geiger and Alexander, previously angered by unreasonable opposition, accidentally met Mrs. Strong in a piece of woods. The subject of dispute was brought up, and it is supposed that the unfortunate woman became more and more violent and abusive, until finally, maddened by her words, one of the men, Geiger, it is supposed, struck her down. Then, seeing that she was injured fatally, and fearing discover}^ he and Alexander finished the job and, fastening a heavy stone to her neck, hid the body in one of the darkest holes of the stream that flowed through those wild hills, piling stones on the breast and hmbs of the corpse to insure con- cealment. Of course Mrs. Strong was missed, and search for her betran, in which her two murderers were forced to join. What a terrible time that was lor the two men — those rides through the woods and can3^ons, a hundred times passing the dreadful spot with its awful secret! Surely worse punishment on earth for their terrible crime could not be con- ceived. Those two instruments of human torture which the Inquisition has never surpassed, remorse and fear, were both gnawing at the hearts of these wretched men during all of that long and futile search. But it was given up at last, and they breathed easier. A few weeks after, an Indian on his pony, riding through the woods, felt thirsty, and turned down the canyon to a spot where the trees stood thick, 86 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. and the rocks jutted out over the water hke greedy monsters looking at their helpless prey beneath. He stooped to quench his thirst in the primitive fashion, but before his lips had touched the water his roving eye caught sight of a swaying something a little way up the stream that made even that stolid red man shrink from drinking that sparkling fluid, for it had flowed over the body of a dead woman. Mrs. Strong was found. The force of the stream had washed away the weighting stones from the lower limbs, and the stream having fallen several feet since the heavy rains of the past weeks, the feet of the corpse were visible above the water. The stone was still attached to the neck, thus keeping all but those ghastly feet under the water. The long-hidden murder was out at last, and the quiet Indian riding away on his tired pony carried with him the fate of Geigfer and Alexander. When the news was told, it was remembered how unwill- ing they had been to search near that spot, and how uneasv and excited thev had seemed whenever it was approached. Indeed, they had been objects of suspicion to many, and the discovery of the body was followed immediately by their arrest. The trial resulted in the acquittal of Alexander, the justice of which was questioned by man}^ and a sentence of lifelong imprisonment for Geiger. Before his removal to the State prison, however, he made his escape, aided, it is supposed, by his wife, who is thought to have brought him tools for that purpose secreted in her clothing. He has never been found, and in all probability never will be. Some say he has never left the countr}^ and is livino; the life of a wild animal in the mountains there; but it is more likely that he, like the first murderer, fled to far lands, where he must ever bear the scarlet letter of remorse in his heart. MY FIRST CALIFORNIA CAMP MEETING. A CALIFORNIA camp meeting I had never seen, and so when the eccentric Dr. Can- non, who was dentist, evangeHst, and many other things all at once, sent me an invitation to be present at one that was soon to come off near Vallecito, in Calaveras County, I promptly signified my acceptance, and began preparation for the trip. It was in 1856, w'hen we occupied the parsonage in Sonora that had been bequeathed to us in all its peculiar glory by our bachelor predecessors. It had one room, which served all the purposes of parlor, library, dining room, and boudoir. The bookcase was two dry goods boxes placed lengthwise, one above the other. The safe, or cupboard, was a single dry goods box, nailed to the redwood boards, of which the house was built, with cleats for our breakfast, dinner, and tea sets, which, though mentioned here in plural form, were singular in more than one sense of the word. The establish- ment boasted a kitchen, the roof of which was less than the regulation height of the American soldier, the floor of which was made b}^ nature, the one window of which had neither sash nor glass, the door of which had no lock, but was kept shut by a small leather strap and an eight-penny nail and its successors. The thieves did not steal from us — they couldn't. Dear old cabin on the hillside I It brings up only pleasant memories of a time when life was young and hope was bright. When we closed the door of the parsonage, and, sitting be- (87) 88 CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. hind McCarthy & Cooper's two-horse team — one a beautiful white, the other a shining bay — dashed out of town in the direction of the bold and brawl- ing Stanislaus, no fear was felt for any valuables left behind. The prancing of that spirited white horse on the narrow grade that wound its way a thousand feet above the bed of the river was a more serious matter, suggesting the possibiHty of an adventure that would have prevented the writing of these " Sketches." The Stanislaus, having its sources among the springs and snows of the Sierras, was a clear and sparkling stream before the miners muddied it by digging its banks and its bed for gold. It cuts its way through a wild and rugged region, dashing, foaming, fighting for its passage along narrow passes where the beetling cliffs and toppling crags repel the invasion of a human foot. It seems in hot haste to reach the valley, and fairly leaps dow^n its rocky chan- nel. In hiorh water it roars and rushes with ter- rific violence. But it w^as behaving quietly as we passed it, keeping w^ithin its narrow channel, along which a number of patient Chinamen were work- ing over some abandoned gold diggings, wearing satisfied looks, indicating success. Success is the rule with the Chinaman. He is acquisitive by na- ture, and thrifty from necessity. He has taught the conceited Americans some astonishing lessons in the matter of cheap living. But they are not thankful for the instruction, nor are they disposed to reduce it to practice. They are not yet pre- pared to adopt Asiatic ideas of living and labor. The contact of the two civilizations produces only friction now. What the future may bring forth I will not here prophesy, as this has properly noth- ing to do with the camp meeting. An expected circus had rather thrown the camp MY FIRST CAT.IFORNIA CAMP MEETING. 89 meeting into the background. The highly colored sensational posters were seen in every conspicuous place, and the talk of the hotel keepers, hostlers, and straggling pedestrians was all about the circus. The camp meeting was a bold experiment under the circumstances. The camp ground was less than a mile from Vallecito, a mining camp, whose reputation was such as to suggest the need of special evangelical influences. It was attacking the enemy in his stronghold. The spot selected for the encampment was a beautiful one. On a gentle slope, in the midst of a grove of live oaks, a few rude tents were pitched, with sides of un- dressed redwood, and covered with nothing, so that the stars could be gazed at during the still hours of the cloudless California summer night. The "preacher's stand" was erected under one of the largest of the oaks, in front of which were ranged rough, backless seats for the accommoda- tion of the worshipers. A well of pure water was close at hand; and a long table, composed of un- dressed boards, was spread under clustering pines conveniently situated. Nobody thought of a table- cloth, and the crockery used was small in quantity and plain in quality. During the first day and night of the meeting small but w^ell-behaved audiences waited upon the word, manifesting apparently more curiosity than religious interest. The second night w^as a solemn and trying time. The crowd had rushed to the circus. Three or four preachers and about a dozen hearers held the camp ground. The lan- terns, swung in the oaks, gave a dim, uncertain light, the gusts of wind that rose and fell and moaned among the branches of the trees threaten- ing their extinguishment every moment. One or two of the lights flickered out entirely, increasing go CALIFORNIA SKETCHES. the gloom and the weirdness of the scene. It was a solemn time ; the sermon was solemn, the hearers were solemn, and there was a solemnity of cadence in the night wind. Everybody seemed gloomy and discouraged but the irrepressible Cannon. He was in high glee. "The Lord is going to do a great work here," he said at the close of the service, rubbing his hands together excitedly. " What makes you think so? " "The devil is busy working against us, and when the devil works the Lord is sure to work too. The people are all at the circus to-night, but their consciences will be uneasy. The Holy Spirit will be at work with them. To-morrow night you will see a great crowd here, and souls will be con- verted." Perhaps there were few that indorsed his logic or shared his faith, but the result singularly veri- fied his prophecy. The circus left the camp. The reaction seemed to be complete. A great crowd came out next night, the Hghts burned more brightly, the faithful felt better, the preachers took fire, penitents were invited and came forward for prayers, and for the first time the old camp meet- ing choruses echoed among the Calaveras hills. The meeting continued day and night, the crowd increasing at every service, until Sunday. Many a wandering believer, coming in from the hills and gulches, had his conscience quickened and his re- hgious hopes rekindled, and the little handful that sung and prayed at the beginning of the meeting swelled to quite an army. On Sunday Bishop Kavanaugh preached to an immense crowd. That eloquent Kentuckian was in one of his inspired moods, and swept every- thing before him. For nearly two hours he held the vast concourse of people spellbound, and to- MY FIRST CALIFORNIA CAMP MEETING. 9I ward the end of his sermon his form seemed to dihite, his face kindled with its pulpit radiance, and his voice was like a golden trumpet. Amens and shouts burst forth all around the stand, and tears rained from hundreds of eyes long unused to the melting mood. California had her camp meet- in