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AS I REMEMBER THEM

By C. C. GOODWIN
Author of The Comstock Club, The Wedge of Gold, etc.
Formerly Editor of the Virginia City, Nev., Enterprise

PUBLISHED BY A SPECIAL COMMITTEE OF THE
SALT LAKE COMMERCIAL CLUB
C, N. STREVELL, Chairman
M. H. WALKER, Treasurer
JOSEPH E. CAINE, Secretary
W. W. ARMSTRONG
H. L. A. CULMER

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
1913

Copyright, 1913, by C. C. Goodwin.

PREFACE.
Within these pages are some pen sketches of men.
Some in their lives, to blinded eyes, were just plain people,
who did their work here noiselessly and fell asleep.
Some were men whose learning ranged over every field,
whose brows had been sealed by the signet of genius, whose
lips and pens were tipped by celestial fire.
Some were heroes who held their fortunes, their sacred
honor, life itself as nothing when a principle was to be vindi
cated. Some were masterful souls, industrial kings, state and em
pire builders who went out exultingly to the conquest of the
wilderness, to storm its mountains for their treasures, to drive
back the frontier, to chase away the frown of the desert, to
blaze and smooth the trails, that full enlightenment — or tin-
soiled sandals might come.
Some were absorbed in drying the tears from the cheeks
of sorrow and in proclaiming the goodness of God.
These come back to me as I recall them to make me forget
the roll and roar of the onsweeping world. They have come
across the gulf of the years, come with the old exulted step
and old sparkle in their eyes and have hailed me with the old
joyous voices, from which not one cadence is lost. Those
voices are sweeter than harp or flute. I cannot catch and hold
the voices or the music, but from time to time I have made
rude sketches of the stately souls. To make clear how I have
been favored, with all good will these sketches are presented.
Charles Carroll Goodwin.

CONTENTS.
PAGE
General John A. Sutter ... . . 7
General John Bidwell . . . .9
Senator David C. Broderick . . 12
Judge Joseph Baldwin 17
Leland Stanford . . 20
The Old Time Miners . . 25
Theodore D. Judah . . .31
Charlie Fairfax . . . 37
The Gentleman from Pike . . 43
Colonel E. D. Baker . . . . . 47
Darius Ogden Mills 56
En. C. Marshall . . 61
Collis P. Huntington . . 65
Judge Charles H. Bryan . 70
The Old San Francisco . 75
The Sacramento Union . 79
Newton Booth . . 83
T. E. "Lucky" Baldwin 86
'•Jim" Gillis . 90
William Lent . 95
Tod Robinson . 100
W. C. Ralston 103
George C. Gori-iam . . . 107
Thomas Starr King 112
The Old Boys . 117
William Sharon 125
Col. David T. Buel . 132
William H. Clagget . 137
William M. Stewart 140
"Red" Frank Wheeler . . 146
James W. Nye . .151
John W. Mackay . . . 160
Clarence King . 171
Judge B. C. Whitman . . . 175
James G. Fair . . 178
Rollin M. Daggett . . . 185
Professor Frank Stewart 192
Governor Luther R. Bradley . 197
Alvinza FIayward . . 202
Harry I. Thornton .... 207

6 CONTENTS PAGE
"Dan De Quille" . . . .213
Colonel Robert H. Taylor . . . 218
The Old Stage Drivers . . • • 223
Judge Alexander Baldwin . . . 231
Professor Joshua Clayton . ¦ 236
Adolph Sutro . ... 240
Harry Mighels . 245
Samuel L. Clemens — "Mark Twain" 250
Judge R. S. Mesick ... 260
General P. E. Connor . . . 265
Marcus Daly . . . 270
John Atchison ... . 276
Judge J. B. Roseborough . . 279
John Percival Jones . . . 283
Allen Green Campbell . . . 289
A. C Cleveland . . . 293
"Joggles" Wright . . 299
Moses Kirkpatrick . . . 304
"Zinc" Barnes ... . 307
General Thaddeus H. Stanton . 311
Colonel William Montague Ferry 316
Colonel Wilbur F. Sanders . . 326
John Q. Packard . 329
Colonel A. C. Ellis . . 332
Richard Mackintosh . . . 333
William S. Godbe ..... 336
General Alexander McDowell McCook 338
E. H. Harriman . . 342
Hon. O. J. Salisbury . . . 346
Hon. George W. CassidY . . . 348
Colonel George L. Shoup . 350
Harvey W. Scott ... . 352
Senator Ed. Wolcott . ... 354
Joaquin Miller ..... . 356
The Old Column . ... 357

AS I REMEMBER THEM.

GENERAL JOHN A. SUTTER.
WHEN I saw him last he was on his "Hock Farm"
on Feather River, about forty miles north of Sac
ramento. He had built a house there and cultivated
a portion of his farm. The house was of adobe, the walls were,
I think, three feet thick, as he explained that the house might
keep out the heat in summer and the cold in winter.- He must
have been at that time something over fifty years of age, prob
ably fifty-three. He was not tall, but heavy, weighing perhaps
200 pounds. His face was very strong but gentle as a woman's,
his voice was soft and low. He impressed me as one who
had finished his work, as one who, when his bark had been
sailing smoothly, was caught by a tidal wave and tossed ashore,
bruised and half shattered.
Save the resolute face there was no sign of the tireless
energy and dauntless endurance and courage that had trans
ferred him from a little hamlet in Germany to the golden coast
before it was known that any gold was there, and had caused'
him to beat back both the barbarian and the savage, plant a
home there and begin the transformation of the land.
He gave us gentle but cordial welcome, offered us all the
hospitalities of his home, and the tender was that of the front
iersman, which, without words, seemed to be saying : "Every
thing is yours; why wait for formalities? You are welcome
guests arid that makes you masters while you stay."
But under that gentle exterior the soul of a hero had its
tenement. We knew that before we saw him first, and for the
moment his appearance was a little disappointing, and I said to
my brother, who was with me : "He impresses me with a feel
ing that his high soul is taking its afternoon siesta." For I
knew that the quiet man had braved every danger, coming in
a frail craft over all the mighty stretch of storms and waves ;

8 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
that he with a little band of followers, planted the first pioneer
outpost, built a rude fort for a defense against the wild beast
and savage man ; that there, the pioneer of pioneers, he laid the
foundation of what he fondly hoped would become a glorified
state; with dauntless courage when necessary, maintained his
place, and then, with his gentleness and justice, drew to him
those who had been enemies, and showed them how much
smoother were the paths of peace and progress than the stony
trails of violence and cruelty.
He honestly acquired great grants of land, enough for an
earldom; he built a rude little mill and in the race from that
mill the first golden sands of California were washed. He was
then forty-eight years old, and his shadow was turning to the
east. He was yet hale and strong, but his energies had never
been called into a direct competition with the sharp men who,
a little later, came in a flood, began to work upon his generosity
and whatever of cupidity he had. His estate began to shrink and
before he realized it, he was poor. Whatever his thoughts
were they did not disturb his stately serenity; he was a trained
soldier ; indifferent to danger and hardships, and had been all
his life, and no false friends could rob him of his self-respect or
lofty dignity.
He knew from the first that the house he had built was
the first temple to civilization that had been upreared in that
fair land; that in the chronology of California all time would
date from him and his work. He had come there as the
Patriarch of the region; the advance agent of civilization, and
enlightenment ; that every step that progress would hereafter
make, every triumph that history might record for the golden
state, the refrain of every speech, the word picture of every
glorious advance, would still be incomplete unless it included
the explanation that it had all dated from the work of the
stalwart old pioneer who first planted the flag of freedom on
California soil ; built the first real home, the first rude temple
to justice, and whose heroic soul was the guardian of all, until
other brave souls came to hail him as the Pioneer of Pioneers,
and to help pick up and carry on the work needed to round a
glorious state into form.

GENERAL JOHN BIDWELL.
ON the scroll which holds the names of the west-coast
Pioneers, the name of John Bidwell should be close to
the top of the stalwart list. In many respects his career
was most wonderful.
When a boy he traveled three hundred miles on foot
through the wilderness of Ohio and Indiana to obtain some
rudiments of an education at a little old primitive academy.
When nineteen years of age, he drifted down the Ohio from
Cincinnati to the Mississippi, up the Mississippi to the Mis
souri, up the Missouri to Platte county, where he settled down
and taught school for two winters.
The call of the wild had always been in his ears. He
one day met a man who had been to the west coast, who told
Bidwell of the wonders beyond the plains and the mountains.
The result was that a little company was fitted out and started
west. This was in 1841. Bidwell had a yoke of oxen, a flint
lock musket, a pair of old-time pistols and a little food.
The company had no map or chart ; knew nothing of the
route they were to travel except to go west. They wandered
on, reached the Rockies, worked their way to about where
Granger in Wyoming is, pushed through the pass to Soda
Springs; then continued west and south to the north end of
Great Salt Lake, then zigzagged into the Humboldt valley;
followed it to the sink, then bore across to the Carson river,
and found their way through the hills to Walker river, then
scaled the almost impassable heights which surround the
source of the Walker. They had become divided and in
searching one morning for his last ox, Bidwell came upon
the big trees, the first white man to ever see them, and stum
bled his way down the Stanislaus river to the San Joaquin.
Of all the feats of all the pioneers this was the very
greatest. There is nothing like it told in history. It could
have been only through the mercy of God that it was accom
plished.

10 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
It was enough to break the heart of any man thrust out on
that awful waste ; no trail to follow ; animals growing weaker
and weaker as the difficulties of the journey increased; the
grass giving way at last and nought in view save the desert,
and finally the scaling of the Sierras, at a point which men
have ever since evaded, so terrible is it, that how that little
company survived it without growing daft, is a marvel that
grows in magnitude the more it is studied. The horror of the
day, the terrible silence of the night, the awful fatigue, the
impossibility of return, the hopelessness of trying to advance;
all make of the journey one of the most striking achievements
of the ages.
Bidwell found General Sutter, who had reached Cali
fornia two years in advance of him. He was Sutter's lieu
tenant for two years, and especially had charge of the Hock
farm. When Fremont came, in 1843, he was Fremont's guide,
told him of the big trees and of Salt Lake, and when the
order came to Fremont that, in the event of war, he was to try
to take and hold California, Bidwell became a soldier. After
the war, Bidwell found what is now Bidwell's Bar, on Feather
River. He made a fortune and then purchased Rancho Chico,
twenty-two thousand acres of the richest body of land in the
Sacramento valley.
He carried east the block of gold quartz that was Cali
fornia's contribution to the Washington monument; set the
machinery in motion that drew William H. Seward in the
senate to advocate the admission of California, and, returning,
began not only the cultivation of his farm, but established a
primitive experiment station and had at one time on this land
four hundred food and flower varieties growing. This he
pursued all his life. He gave me, in August, 1889, on his
table on the Chico Rancho, a watermelon of his own "breed
ing" which was as yellow as a muskmelon, and sweeter than
a concert of nightingales.
He was sent to Congress, and there all his work was for
progress. In 1892 he was nominated by the Prohibitionists
in National convention at Cincinnati for President, and
received the highest vote ever given a prohibition candidate.

GENERAL JOHN BIDWELL. 11
In the stirring years from 1860 to 1865 his was one of the
loudest voices in California for the Union. His work was
incessant during the sixty years he lived in California. He
built seventy-five miles of the road, over the Sierras from
Chico toward Susanville; put on a stage line to run between
Chico and Boise City, and stocked the whole line with his
own horses.
When eighty years of age he went with an employee to
the woods to select some timbers for a special use. He cut
off a log that was in the way and was seized with heart failure.
He was carried home, and on the same afternoon sank into
a slumber which deepened into his last sleep an hour later.
When I last saw him he was sixty-nine years of age, but
he was as erect as a man of twenty. He was six feet high,
and a stalwart — a most impressive personage; a stalwart, but
genial and generous. He had then toiled all his life, had
suffered hardships almost unendurable, but had triumphed
over all and had made for himself a high name, simply through
his toil and his force of character, his high motives and his
irrepressible energy.
He was a Pioneer of Pioneers, a patriot, a statesman, a
soldier, and lived a long life without fear and without reproach.

SENATOR DAVID C. BRODERICK.
I HESITATE about giving my impressions of Senator
Broderick, for fear that I cannot join him with the age
he lived in and picture the memory of him as it ought
to be seen by men living now.
He lived a laborious life all through his boyhood and
early youth and a life mostly devoid of the help of schools.
He became a fire chief in New York City as naturally as the
foremost savage of his tribe ever gravitated to the chieftain
ship. The fire department of New York City in his days had
some very sturdy men as members, whom no one could con
trol who was not as resolute as the best of them and a natural
master of men.
But none disputed Broderick's perfect fitness for the
place, and he held it until he was ready to sail for California.
That he had been nursing higher hopes was plain from a
remark he made on the eve of sailing. "When will you come
back, chief?" asked one of his fire company. "When I am
elected United States senator from California," was his reply.
After looking around a few days in California he decided
that a man would be helpless there without money. And he
wanted to begin his work quickly. He never drank, but he
opened a saloon. At the same time he began dealing in real
estate, and made a little fortune in two years. Meanwhile he
had become acquainted with all the leading men of San Fran
cisco and many in the state outside. In that time and all the
rest of his life he devoted all his leisure to study. After his
work closed for the day he devoted half his nights to the study
of the sciences, he devoured all the English classics, and they
were not merely skimmed over, but studied line by line until
it became a habit with him to analyze all he read.
He began to mix in politics and began to lead. He was
a massive commanding man, but his voice was gentle, save
when aroused ; and there was a special magnetism about him.
It was said of him, "Do not let Broderick shake your hand,

SENATOR DAVID C. BRODERICK. 13
look in your eyes and talk to you for a quarter of an hour,
or he will hoodoo you, and you will be his slave for life."
Perhaps his ruling trait was his absolute sincerity. A
statement of fact by him was never doubted, a promise from
him was to be counted upon implicitly for all time. His influ
ence rapidly widened; he began to be a distinct factor in the
politics of California. But he was not nearly perfect. He
could rule men, but he had never learned to quite rule him
self. From the first he had devoted friends and a good many
enemies, and if he heard that some one had denounced or
betrayed him, he had not the philosophy to pass it by as a
mere incident, but at once became furious in his anathemas.
And yet he was always generous and ready to fix up a dif
ference and was often imposed upon by a feigned apology.
He steadily grew in power and began to make public
addresses. He was never a winsome public speaker. He
simply talked cold facts in a way to convince men. He could
excoriate an opponent, but his words were wielded as a
cleaver is wielded ; and to hear him after a man like Col. Baker
or Ned Marshall or McDougal or any of plenty more who
talked in those days, was a disappointment. His success lay in
personal contact with men, in his words, his voice and smile
and the magnetism of his mere presence.
When at last the Democratic party was rent asunder in
the state, and Broderick was elected United States senator by
the Free Soil wing of the party, then he became in a sense
a marked man. So strong was he that he was not only elected,
but he dictated who else should be elected, and the man who
was elected pledged Broderick that he should dictate the pa
tronage in California. But when the two senators reached
Washington, his colleague forgot some of his promises, and
the men who controlled the President and the Senate at that
time had no use for a Senator whom they declared had deserted
and divided the Democratic party in the Golden State. Of
course Broderick was savage in his denunciation of all this
and of the men who had betrayed him and the real Democracy
in California. The shadow of the coming war was growing
darker and darker in the east, and it was easy to see what a

14 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
power Broderick would be should a crisis be precipitated.
The man whom Broderick had especially antagonized was
Senator Gwin who had been a senator from the birth of the
state ; who was a superior man and one whom all the southern
states indorsed and stood by.
But he was an old man, and his friends would not permit
him to challenge Broderick ; they were afraid of results. But
Judge David S. Terry, who had been a warm friend of Brod-
erjck's, went off with the "Chivalry" wing when the party
divided, and one night made a speech in Sacramento in which
he animadverted severely on the course of Senator Broderick.
Next morning, while at breakfast in the public dining room
of a San Francisco hotel, Broderick came upon a copy of the
speech, read it, and in his impetuous way said he had thought
that there was one honest man on the supreme bench of the
state, but he would have to give it up.
It was a mere momentary ebullition of impatience, and
nothing would ever have come of it had not a lawyer named
Purley been at the same table and, overhearing the remark,
hotly declared that Judge Terry was a special friend of his and
he would not permit any such remark to be made about Judge
Terry in his hearing.
But Broderick would not quarrel with him, intimating his
belief that Judge Terry hardly needed a champion of Purley's
caliber. The incident, with elaborations, was reported to Terry,
who promptly resigned his judgeship and sent a challenge to
Broderick. The late summer political campaign was at its height.
Broderick was out on the stump and had promised to visit
many towns. When the challenge reached him he merely
replied that until his engagements were filled, he would not
consider any matter of that kind. So soon, however, as the
campaign was over, he accepted the challenge. There was
much insistence at the time that unfair advantage was taken
of Broderick's unfamiliarity with dueling : the right statement
would have been that every proper advantage was taken by
Terry and his friends. When on the field McKibben merely

SENATOR DAVID C. BRODERICK. 15
touched Terry's breast as Broderick's second, while Calhoun
Benham, Terry's second, roughly went over Broderick's cloth
ing as though suspicious that he had on a suit of armor. Then
the pistols used were hair-trigger pistols, something Broderick
was altogether unfamiliar with, so when the word was given
Broderick had hardly begun to raise his weapon when it went
off, the bullet striking the ground only a few feet from his
hand. Then Terry took careful aim and fired. The bullet
struck Broderick in the right breast, wounded the right lung,
passed under the sternum, then followed the ribs over the
heart and went out under the left arm.
True to the savage in his nature, Terry exclaimed, "I shot
an inch too far to the right." Broderick stood for an instant,
then turned half round and sank to the ground. He lived
sixty-two hours. No death in California had ever produced
half the sorrow and anger that his did. His friends declared
that while it was compassed according to the barbarous forms
of the code, nevertheless, it was a premeditated murder; that
there had been no more provocation in Broderick's words than
there had been in Terry's speech ; that the speech was made
merely to provoke Broderick to say something in quick indig
nation which would supply a lame excuse on which to challenge
him, and that Terry, who really had no cause of quarrel with
Broderick, was selected, because he was a practiced duelist,
and when aroused had no more sensibilities than a grizzly.
The shot that killed Broderick was in truth the first shot
of the great war. After that the line of demarcation between
northern and southern men was more closely drawn ; northern
men grew more and more aggressive; it increased further the
division made when Penn Johnson killed the quiet, gentle, gen
erous and blameless Furgeson, in another duel a few months
previous. When Broderick was killed, Col. E. D. Baker pro
nounced the eulogy at his funeral, and Rome was not half so
stirred by Antony's speech over Csesar as were the men who
listened that day to Col. Baker.
As he arose and stretched out his arms over the casket
in which Broderick's body lay, his opening words were : "Men

16 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
of California, behold your senator." In an instant half that
immense assembly were sobbing like grieved children.
Then he pictured the great soul that had fled, its perfect
truthfulness, its devotion to duty, its courage, its scorn of all
that was base, untrue and unclean ; its perfect ideal of Ameri
can manhood and citizenship; its generosity and power; how
without any early advantages he had fought and won for him
self a place among the highest and so bore himself that they
were glad to hail him as their peer, and how at last he had
fallen a martyr to those who were gathering to perpetuate the
slave power under our holy flag. The effect was indescribable,
and when, in closing, he said : "But the last word must be
spoken; the imperious mandate of Death must be fulfilled.
Thus, O brave heart, we bear thee to thy rest. Tiius, sur
rounded by tens of thousands, we bear thee to the equal grave.
As in life no other voice among us so rang in trumpet blasts
upon the ears of freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate
amid our mountains and valleys until truth and valor cease to
appeal to the human heart. Good friend ! true hero ! hail and
farewell!" The response was the sobbing of thousands of
strong men.
Broderick's death was well described by Judge Dwindle,
a few words of which we recall :
"When one goes forth like Broderick in the maturity of
his manhood; in the fulness of his powers, in the ripeness of
his intellect; in the perfection of his moral discipline, hoping
so much himself, and of whom so much was hoped — when
such an one lies down forever upon his bloody couch, we are as
unreconciled as the husband over the grave of his first love ; as
inconsolable as the mother over the corpse of her first-born."
Men's eyes were blinded then. Fate was setting the stage
for the great tragedy, the mighty acts of which were so soon
to be called ; there was no music and all the lights were turned
low.

JUDGE JOSEPH BALDWIN.
FROM the earliest days Judge Baldwin was one of the
ablest lawyers in California, one of the ablest of that
grand array of lawyers on the Comstock. Then he had
distinct attributes of his own. He had a sense of humor that
was contagious and enchanting. His "Flush Times in Ala
bama" had fun enough on every page to build a comic opera
up around. It is still a standard work among the old race of
men who recall how things were before great wealth came to
the country and when men lived on a lower, gentler plane, and
with no fame as the owners of vast wealth, had hearts too big
for narrow human breasts. But there was no bitterness in his
soul, no malice, and deep down he had mastered all life's prob
lems with no worse result than to share the sorrows of his fel
low men and to shield, so far as he could, their frailties.
He was intensely southern; he believed in his state and
section with all the fervor of his genial and generous nature,
but he was intellectually honest and his perceptions acute, and
with a quick intuition he measured the worth of men, and in
judging them forgot where either he or they were born, and
estimated only what they were when he met them.
When he went to the supreme bench of California, there
were men who, because they did not understand his nature, had
a fear that he did not appreciate the weight of the duties he
was undertaking.Of the problems which confronted the supreme court of
California at the time, we can best get an idea from Judge
Baldwin's own words. He said :
"California was then, as now, in the development of her
multiform physical resources. The judges were as much pio
neers of law as the people of settlement. It is safe to say that
even in the experience of new countries hastily settled by hetero
geneous crowds of strangers from all countries, no such exam
ple of legal and judicial difficulties was ever before presented
as has been illustrated in the history of California. There

18 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
was no general or common course of jurisprudence. Law
was to be administered almost without a standard. There was
the civil law, as adulterated or modified by Mexican provincial
ism, usages and habitudes, for a great part of the legislation ;
there was the common law for another part, but what that was,
was to be decided from the conflicting divisions of any number
of courts in America and England, and the various and diverse
considerations of policy arising from local and other facts.
"And then contracts made elsewhere and some of them in
semi-civilized countries had to be interpreted here.
"Besides, to all which may be added that large and im
portant interests peculiar to the state existed — mines, ditches,
etc. — for which the courts were compelled to frame the law and
make a system out of what was little better than chaos.
"When, in addition, it is considered that an unprecedented
number of contracts, and an amount of business without paral
lel, had been made and done in hot haste, with the utmost care
lessness; that legislation was accomplished in the same way,
and presented the crudest and most incongruous materials for
construction; that the whole scheme and organization of the
government and the relation of the government and the rela
tion of the departments to each other, had to be adjusted by
judicial construction — it may well be conceived what task even
the ablest jurist would take upon himself when he assumed
office on the supreme bench."
He wrote the above when he had long filled that office, in
which he grew in intellectual stature every day.
The two crowning glories of his life were first his stain
less integrity, then his tireless industry.
As a sample, there was one case in which a title had come
down from a long before Mexican concession. A vast sum
hung upon the decision of the case, and the records were so
conflicting and incongruous that an hour's study of them was
enough to make a lawyer crazy.
At the time, Judge Baldwin knew at best but a few words
of Spanish. He pondered over the case a good while. The longer he

JUDGE JOSEPH BALDWIN. 19
considered it, the more he thought of what a wrong an incor
rect decision would be, and finally his mind was made up.
Fie set out for the City of Mexico with two purposes in
his mind: one was to learn to read Spanish, the other to go
to the depths of the case and trace the titles up to a conclusion
in which there could be no flaw.
He accomplished both purposes, and Justice Stephen J.
Field, referring to it later, declared that "the opinion of Justice
Baldwin in the case was without precedent for the exhaustive
learning and research it exhibits upon the points discussed."
It made clear as nothing else ever did, that the jolly side
of Justice Baldwin's nature was but a by-product, that down
deep his inner self was profound and as honest as profound,
and that over all no higher soul ever controlled a man's life!
He was, indeed, the very highest type of man; whatever his
sorrows were, he vexed no one with them ; when popular fury
was aroused in the opening days of the great war, it was the
cutting off for him of honors which any man might covet, espe
cially if, as with him, he had earned them ; but there was from
him no repining, no change in the serenity of his nature ;
indeed, he did not forget his natural wit even when he was
the victim of it.
His private life was perfect ; his public life was stainless ;
he grew in men's estimation to the last.
The brightest of "the native sons of the Golden State"
should be delegated to make a study of Judge Baldwin's life,
and deliver a eulogy upon it.
If this should be done, they would realize as never before
that "there were giants in those days."
But that, though prepared with all fidelity, would fail to
make a picture of him to compare with the picture that is en
graven on the walls of the heart of any old argonaut who
knew him, who heard his voice, who looked in his kindly eyes,
and realized how high and true was the man every day of his
life ; in truth, above fear and above reproach, and a very bless
ing to all who had the honor of knowing him in the power and
the splendor of his life.

LELAND STANFORD.
A STRONG man, well educated, clear-brained, brave, am
bitious, generous, trained to business in the eastern states,
caught by the lure of the golden west. In the spring of
1852, when twenty-eight years of age, he started across the
continent driving his own team, and reached California in the
late summer. A remark that he made to his wife on that jour
ney showed what direction his ideas were taking. She was
deploring the hardships and weariness of the long journey
when he said: 'Never mind, I will build a railroad one of
these days for you to go back on." If we are not mistaken, his
first venture was to open a miners' store at Alleghany City,
to supply the placer miners in that vicinity. He was success
ful and later moved to Sacramento to engage in the mercan
tile business. His ability and character soon attracted atten
tion. From the first organization of the Republican party in
California he was a Republican. It required some nerve to be
a Republican in those days in California ; for the Democrats
were in full control and were very aggressive. As a rule the
Democrats from the southern states were at the helm — for
southern men cling together better than northern men, to
them the word Republican was the same as abolitionist, and it
was with mingled wrath and contempt that they always re
ferred to either. More than once even Col. E. D. Baker, match
less orator that he was, was assailed, when he essayed to speak,
with stale eggs and anathemas. Through that Leland Stan
ford was open in the defense of what he held to be right, and
no combine could cow him or daunt his nerve. In those hot
years he made a state reputation, though in a party that was
hopelessly in the minority.
The Democratic party, after a while, divided, those from
the south clinging to the Buchanan platform, those generally
from the north following the lines marked out by Stephen A.
Douglas, but this only intensified the bitterness. But after

LELAND STANFORD. 21
the Douglas and Lincoln debates in 1858, there began to come
a change in the sentiments of men, and when Senator Brod
erick was killed in the duel with Judge Terry and the genial,
gentle Ferguson was killed in a duel with Penn Johnson, the
Republicans in California grew more and more aggressive,
thousands of old-time whigs joined their ranks and in 1860
they elected Stanford governor. He was an able executive,
and had not the plans of the Democrats miscarried there would
have been civil war in California; and we believe that Stanford
would have met the crisis in the same spirit that two or three
of the war governors of the east did.
It was understood that most of the arms in the state were
in the fortress of Alcatraz, and General Albert Sidney John
ston was in command. Southern men were secretly drilling
and planning, their hope being that Johnston would do what
Twiggs had done in Texas.
We think it was McClatchy, the owner of the Sacramento
Bee, who sent the secret dispatch to Washington informing
the government of the imminent danger. General Sumner was
sent half disguised to supercede Johnston; the steamer with
him on board ran to Alcatraz before going to her wharf.
Johnston met Sumner at the landing and at Sumner's demand
turned the command over to him. Our idea is that though
Albert Sidney Johnston was in full sympathy with the south
ern cause; though when relieved of his command of Alcatraz
he at once resigned his federal commission, crossed the plains
by the southern route and at once entered the service of the
confederacy; he never would have given up Alcatraz while
filling that trust under the government, for away back in the
Mexican war General Worth was asked who most nearly filled
his ideas of a perfect soldier, and he replied : "Colonel Albert
Sidney Johnston."
Stanford was governor from 1861 to 1863. In the mean
time the building of the old Central Pacific and Union Pacific
railroads had been inaugurated and Stanford was made pres
ident of the former company. Theodore Judah was the engi
neer who had made the preliminary surveys over the Sierras
and declared the building of the road practical. He wanted to

22 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
build it over the present route of the Western Pacific, up the
north fork of Feather River, but was overruled; the argu
ment used at the time by the "big four" — Huntington, Hop
kins, Crocker and Stanford — was that with sufficient help
from adjacent counties, from San Francisco and a possible sub
sidy from the government, it might be possible to push the
road as high up as Dutch Flat, where it would connect with
the company's wagon road to Truckee, and if the Comstock
mines held up for two or three years, between the railroad and
the toll road, they could all make little fortunes of $200,000 or
$300,000 each. And let no one imagine that their thoughts
were narrow, for they were broader than any other set of men
east or west.
The matter was put in the hands of Senator A. A. Sargent
of California to see what could be obtained from Congress.
The war was on ; there was much anxiety about California and
Nevada, for they were supplying the gold and silver which was
the leaven of the nation's finances, and the two roads — the
Union and Central — were given their charters and immense
subsidies, as much to conciliate and hold the west solid for the
Union as were the possible advantages which would come in a
material way could the road be finished. The work done by
Senator Sargent in that connection was superb ; years after the
road was completed Mark Hopkins, in a public speech, declared
that it was Sargent who made the building of the road pos
sible; that the company was anxious to reward him, but he
would take nothing.
Let no one discount the magnitude or majesty of that
enterprise. There had been nothing more gigantic undertaken
in our country. There have been other roads since; there
have been finer ships to cross the Atlantic than the little car
avels of Columbus, but those caravels crossed first. Even
when the locomotives touched noses at Promontory, there were
tens of thousands of business men who said : "Yes, the road is
finished after a fashion, but who is going to make it pay?"
The company made it pay, but some of its methods were
very tough. Some of its charges were outrageous; in a
little while the company became the controlling force in Cali-

LELAND STANFORD. 23
fornia politics. It directed who should be elected senators, who
legislators, who judges; it crushed newspapers that opposed its
methods and founded others to fight its battles.
This must often have clashed with Leland Stanford's
ideas of justice, but he in those days filled exactly the Lady
Macbeth idea — what he did highly he wanted to do holily, did
not want to play false, but yet was willing to wrongly win.
The company's treatment of the Sacramento Union was no
more honorable and much less brave than that of buccaneers.
The railroad ceased to be a common carrier in its hands and
from the first was held as a private snap.
But Stanford performed a thousand generous acts in
those days; helped many a struggling enterprise; even in his
play he was greatly improving the stock of horses in this coun
try, and he had an ambition to establish the greatest vineyard
in the world.
He was in truth a mighty power in California ; it is a last
ing pity that he could not have seen his opportunity and make
for himself a name most revered on this coast. As it was,
when his railroad company was much anathematized, Governor
Stanford was sincerely revered.
But when his faculties began to break a little a change
came over him. He began to crave flattery more and more,
and took up the belief that the men of California were most
ungrateful and intent upon robbing him, who had, in his own
thought, been so unselfishly their benefactor. His conscience
was his compass, but he was sometimes careless about having
the compass adjusted before sailing.
In those days he did one act which later must have filled
his soul with remorse, and it caused him to break the warm
friendship which had so long existed between him and his
partner, C. P. Huntington. A. A. Sargent wanted to be
elected United States senator. Huntington was eager for his
election, but a bee was in Stanford's bonnet. He seemed to
think he wanted the place; that it would crown his career of
success, and with his power and the help of the sycophants by
whom he was surrounded, he defeated the man who had made
all his great triumphs possible.

24 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
He was never at home in the senate; the four years he
spent there must have been wearisome years to him — Dead
Sea apples that turned to ashes on his lips.
The death of his son was a blow from which he never
rallied. To him there never was a son like his — he never
could understand the justice of his taking off. He had com
pelled everything to go his way for twenty years; he thought
there was nothing he could not do or hire done, but when the
boy sickened and grew worse and he could not command the
means to ward off death, he realized at last that money was
not almighty and that his imperious voice had nothing that
could insure him, or his, one moment of time. He founded the
great university in his son's name, and it will perpetuate both
their names, for the halo that gathers over a great educational
institution, as the years and centuries ebb and flow, after a
while covers every scar on the character of its founder ; it cov
ers the seams of age after a while, and we can imagine in the
distant years a great picture taking form in" that institution, a
radiant boy with his wand of gold pointing joyously up to the
golden height whereon immortal names are inscribed in letters
of everlasting light ; and in the background a grave woman and
man sitting gazing there, as they were wont to here, upon the
enthusiastic boy and smiling softly as though thinking how
rugged was the trail up which they climbed until beyond the
folding doors of death they found Elysian fields.

THE OLD-TIME MINERS.
WE ALL have, I hope, high and sincere reverence for
the Pioneers ; for those men and women who began
their western inarch almost three hundred years
ago ; first in grotesque little ships across the Atlantic, and made
their first stopping places on the eastern shore of the ocean;
then a little later began to push their way against the wilder
ness and the savages; as one generation sank into the earth
another took up the slow march, pursuing its way until the
deep woods gave place to smiling homes all the long way
to and beyond the Mississippi.
Looking back we mark a few of their achievements, the
unremitting labor of their lives; the courage that bore them
up; the poverty that bound them around in merciless coils;
the self-sacrifices which they accepted as a matter of course ;
the tenacity with which they never failed to assert that their
free citizenship should never be trenched upon; the carrying
with them the little red school house; the high manhood, the
divine womanood which upheld them as they pushed their
way, — all these and other characteristics shine out as we look
back over the trails they blazed and mark the temples they
upreared, and to the eyes of the minds of all Americans, they
make a picture of enchantment, not one tint of which fades as
the years advance and recede.
But there came a time when the order of a hundred and
fifty years was changed.
Though for more than two hundred years the race had
been toiling; though their heroic work had transformed a
mighty section of the new world ; though an empire of meas
ureless natural wealth had been explored, the country was
poor in that thing called money, the one thing that electrifies
enterprise and provides a just reward for toil.
There came a whisper that on the other shore of the
continent gold had been discovered. This was swiftly con
firmed by succeeding news, and then the exodus began.

26 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Within a few months there were tossed upon that west
ern shore two hundred and fifty thousand men. They were
nearly all young men, and every state of the then union was
represented. The journey had steadied and broadened them. Whether
by the long treck across the continent, whether by lonely ships
around Cape Horn, or through the scramble and the rush by
the pestilential Isthmus, they all had taken on new ideas by
the experience they had been through.
As a rule they were all more or less home boys and the
best of them had a full quota of provincialism.
But this last melted away faster than it had ever before
in any country.
The secret was that the mothers they kissed when they
left home were American mothers, and as the differences
among American mothers are the differences of environment,
it did not require long for their sons to recognize that fact.
Many of the new comers stopped on the seashore or in
adjacent valleys, but I am not dealing with those today. It is
the company which never rested by the sea nor in the soft
valleys, but hurried to the hills. For them nothing would do
but the native gold. The art of extracting it was simple and
quickly learned. And when at night the day's proceeds were
panned and cleaned and weighed, the miner held it before
his eyes and invented the phrase : "That's the stuff."
And who were these miners? They were as a rule just
American boys and young men. They had come from every
field, from every school; they were, so to speak, the nation
looked at through the big ends of the opera class.
All recognized that they were living in a land that had no
government, but they got together in the different camps and
resolved that while there was no law, there should be order,
and that every man should be secure in what was rightly his.
Petty criminals fought shy of those camps. Sometimes
there were disputes over business affairs. When they could
not be settled privately a court was quickly convened; a juror
was never questioned about any bias or prejudice that he
thought he entertained or whether he had formed or expressed

THE OLD-TIME MINERS. 27
any opinion. He was simply asked if he could hear the case
and decide according to the law and evidence. If he promised
that, it was enough.
Some of those trials were most picturesque. Will Camp
bell was mining in a ravine a mile or two outside of Downie-
ville. One morning three or four miners came to him where
he was at work, and one said: "Mister, did you back in the
states study law?"
Will replied that he did. Then it was explained to him
that a big Pennsylvania Dutchman was trying to claim the
ground that one of the boys owned, that a trial had been set for
that afternoon, and they wanted Campbell to go to camp and
try the case for them. Campbell replied, "All right, if one of
you chaps will work my ground while I am gone, I will go."
This was agreed to and Campbell went to the camp, tried and
won the case. He told me about it later, after he had become
an eminent lawyer and judge.
He said: "I was nineteen years old. I had just gradu
ated; all the practice I had ever had any experience in was
in the moot courts in the law school. I did not know a vast
amount of law, but I had brought all my gall with me to Cal
ifornia, and I suppose my argument that day was one calcu
lated to scare away a mountain lion, if he was an old and wary
one and wished to avoid trouble.
"I have never since experienced the self-satisfaction that
was mine as I emerged from that room and walked out on the
cleared space in front of the building. Many people congratu
lated me and I swallowed it all as though it was my due. At
last the big Dutchman came along and said : 'Mister Campbell,
dot vas one great speech vot you made today.' 'Ah,' I replied,
'do you really think so, Uncle Billie ?'
" 'Yaw, I tinks so,' he said. 'It just lacked but von ding
to make it one very great speech.'
" 'You really think so, Uncle Billie,' I responded ; 'and
pray what did it lack?'
" 'It lacked sense,' was the curt answer.
"The boys heard it and it cost me all the dust I had
mined for a week previous, to get out of camp. 1 have

28 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
heard of it from time to time ever since. But it did me lots
of good. I have never since talked as learnedly as I did on that
day. You see, the ordinary intellect can only stand about so
much." Men who see no children for months have upon them a
heart-hunger which men in civilization can never comprehend.
And because of the absence of women and children, the
wild beast in many a soul in the hills comes forth. There was
no restraint upon them and even a quartz mill runs away some
times when the governor on the engine ceases to act.
Many drank, many gambled, many were killed in quar
rels; many became boisterous and reckless, and lives were
thrown away, which, under the restraint of good women's
eyes, might have made great names. It is said that the great
Blucher of Prussia, riding over a dead-covered battlefield,
said to an aide who was half overcome by the horror and pity
of it : "Control yourself, General ! When the winds and the
deep-sea surges engage in battle, the shore next morning is
piled deep with sea weed and other debris of the storm. It
is nature's way ; these, too, are but debris cast up by the storm
of yesterday." The graves on the tops and flanks of the Sierra are still
the marks on the shore where that debris was thrown.
In another way character was formed there. The resource
fulness which out of the rude surroundings developed into high
manhood and superb citizenship ; which with the means at hand
accomplished mighty results ; the resolution which hid suffer
ing in men's own hearts; the transition which slowly stran
gled the brightest hopes ever nursed by mortals until they all
went out; the self-sacrifices which were made, those making
them wearing all the time the smile of contentment and peace,
and giving up what was sweeter than life itself as the tired
child drops its toys ; acts of generosity and charity to make the
angel of mercy weep for joy, — these and kindred features
made up the unseen tragedies that were enacted there, unseen
but leaving their shadows on those heights.
What was visible was the joy and enthusiasm that
reigned. What songs were sung, what stories were told, how

THE OLD-TIME MINERS. 29
vastly the vocabulary of the language was enlarged, to pro
duce words to fit all occasions — the echoes or the ghosts of
them still roll like phantom drums through those hills.
Let no one think those camps were not schools of patriot
ism. All the papers from the lower cities were read and re
read ; the magazines from the east were devoured, the new lit
erature of California that rang out in the words of Bret Harte,
of "Caxton;" of La Conte; of Barstow; of Bartlett; of Stout:
of Coolbrith; of O'Connell; of Marshall, and the others, were
household words in the camps. And the letters by the semi
monthly steamers — why talk about patriotism ? When a letter
comes to a young man from his mother, or from the daughter
of some other young man's mother five thousand miles away.
he not only loves his country but loves the stokers that fed
the coal to the furnaces in the ship that brought the letter.
And from among those men there grew up a race of sci
entists that had few instructors save as they set the hieroglyph
ics which nature had embossed upon the rocks and trees and
hills, to words, and in their souls made histories of them, and
through those histories caught the secret of the labors that had
been going on there through the ages ; the work of the earth
quake, the glacier, the winds, the heat, the cold, the sunbeams
— all the agents which the Infinite employs in rounding a world
into form. No other study is more impressive. With every leaf
turned in that book of nature, the more accentuated comes the
realization of the majesty, the mercy and the power of the
Infinite Architect which ages before man had an existence save
in the mind of God caused the plans to be laid and approved
through which, when man should materialize, a field would be
ready for him where his mind and hands might find employ
ment and where for earnest work a sure reward would be
awaiting him ; and where when he became great enough to
understand how the work was framed and the reward pro
vided, he would feel like "putting the shoes from off his feet,"
because he was standing on holy ground.
And another character of men was developed there;
strong men of affairs, captains of industry, who when they

30 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
left the hills and entered into competition with ordinary men
were found to be masters to take charge of any work that was
presented, for to wrestle with the forces of nature and over
come the bastions and battlements which the mountains have
upreared in their own defense, make men stronger.
They were, even as was Jacob by his all-night wrestle with
the Lord, strengthened by the labor, and because of it, like
Jacob, they took on new titles among men.
If I have made the foregoing plain, it will be seen that
while there were miners before those first California miners,
and while there have been miners since in many ways their
superiors as miners, there never was before, never has been
since, just such a band as were they.
They had no homes with tender home influences to hold
them in check; but they grew tenderer and more considerate of
others because of the absence of those influences ; they had no
children of their own, but that made them fathers by adoption
of all the world's children; many of them were wild and reck
less, for there were at first no restraints upon them, no church
spires to turn their gaze upward; they turned to trees which
were higher than church spires, and to the sky under whose
dim sheen they slept, and were perhaps nearer God because of
their environments and the sentinel stars that kept solemn
watch above them.
With a steadfast courage they worked out their lives;
most of them, personally, are forgotten, but because they lived
and toiled and kept watch that society should be kept secure
against wrong and the flag above them be kept stainless, the
manhood of the whole coast was exalted and the influence
they exerted has been an ennobling one to the whole coast
ever since.

THEODORE D. JUDAH.
AS THE years slowly unwound after history began its
record, from the works of all the myriads who lived
and died in the ancient world, seven achievements were
separated from the rest and called the "Seven Wonders of the
World." The first was the pyramids of Egypt. They were
built by slaves to gratify the whims of kings and to make for
those kings sepulchres, when their work should be done. The
second was the Pharos built by Ptolemy Philadelphus to be a
watch-tower on the Nile. The third was the hanging gardens
of Babylon, built to gratify the pride of a king or queen. The
fourth was the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, which was built
by the Asiatic states very much as the people of Utah built
the Salt Lake temple. It required the patient labor of thou
sands of men and two hundred and twenty years of time to
complete it. The fifth was the statue of Jupiter at Olympia,
altogether glorious in ivory and gold and precious stones. The
sixth was the mausoleum which Artemesia built for the tomb
of her husband, and the last was the colossus of Rhodes, a
statue of brass built in honor of the sun.
It will be noticed that none of these were to be of any
practical use to the world except the watch-tower built by
Ptolemy. The rest were either for tombs or in honor of the
deities which the various nations worshiped. In our day
another wonder has been added to the wonders of the Old
World. It was not for a tomb ; it was not to gratify kingly
pride;, it was not to make an ostentatious display of wealth
that it was created. The object was to open a new highway
for trade and to make new capitals for commerce across the
continent. I refer, of course, to the first Pacific railroad
across the Sierra Nevada mountains and the deserts east o.;
them. For a long time efforts had been made to begin some tan
gible work looking to the building of a transcontinental rail
road. Benton had advocated it; Fremont had advocated it;

32 AS I REMEMBER THEM,
the press of California constantly agitated the subject, pointing
out its needs, expressing belief in its practicability, and the
glory that would come with its construction. California sen
ators and representatives had urged the undertaking, some
half-hearted preliminary surveys had been made, but as a whole
the people of the country, cowed by the distance and the de
scriptions of the route, believed the work impossible.
Doubters explained that even could the road be built, it
would be impossible to manufacture rolling stock that could
stand the strain of a three thousand mile journey. Capitalists,
when approached, began to lock their safes. With that air
which is apt to attach to a man who has been a long time a
banker, they would explain that could it be possible to build the
road, the revenues from it would not for fifty years be suffi
cient to pay for the lubricating fluid in the boxes of the car
wheels. Then they would pull down their maps, show the great
American desert as it was outlined; explain that from the
Missouri to the Pacific there was a stretch of 2,000 miles of
arid lands, desert mountains of rock and barren sand; then
question the sanity or honesty of any man who seriously advo
cated the pursuit of such an impossibility.
It makes one smile to think what has been done since:
how limited was the sagacity, how impotent the capacity, how
narrow were the horizons of those wise asses of fifty years
ago. But there was one man, Theodore D. Judah, of different
mold. He was among men what the eagle is among birds.
His way of mounting a height was by riding up it on the
strong wings of enthusiasm and courage, but he was careful
to assure himself in advance that the wings were strong enough
to make the giddy flight.
When on the crags, no matter how rude his eyrie might
be, he was sure of its safety, for he himself had anchored it,
so when the hurricane was raging it was a joy for him to flap
his strong pinions and join his defiant scream to the clamors
of the gale.
When the work of building the road is spoken of or

THEODORE D. JUDAH. 33
thought of, the glory goes to four men in Sacramento whose
names have been so closely linked with that road that all other
people are, by the great masses of men, forgotten in that con
nection. But Judah was the man who first dreamed of the
enterprise, and followed his dream with his instruments. He
scaled all the mountain tops ; he made his surveys ; he worked
year after year upon his theme. Because of him the project
finally rounded into form. Because of him the road was begun.
He was a civil engineer, poor in purse, but with visions in his
brain sweeter than the thirst for gold.
He built the road from Sacramento to Folsom. As he
laid out that line his eyes every day stretched to the blue moun
tains beyond, until the idea of scaling those heights with the
iron horse became an absorbing passion with him. So on his
own account he laid his lines across them on three different
routes. He followed the dream through half as many years as
Columbus did before the Italian obtained the three little ships
and their poor fittings with which to push back from the face
of the ocean the veil and reveal a new continent. He tried the
rich men of San Francisco. They heard his story ; they smiled
at his enthusiasm, but they secretly buttoned up their pockets
and locked their safes and said wisely to each other that the
man was an enthusiastic lunatic.
Judah had made the preliminary surveys and established
that the work was practicable; that it was but a matter of
pluck, energy, persistence and money to construct the road.
But months and years slipped away. Talk about the inertia
of matter ! It does not compare with the inertia of provincial
minds, or at times, with the inertia of public opinion.
In July, 1859, the great Comstock mines east of the Sierra
Nevadas were discovered; later the rush to that new field be
gan which soon swelled into a stampede.
The men who later were the magnates of the Central Pa
cific road — the big four — undertook the building of a stage
road from Dutch Flat, California, on the west flank of the
Sierras to what is now Truckee on the eastern slope. They
gave the direction of the work to Judah. While that was in

34 AST REMEMBER THEM.
progress he laid the results of his investigation before the men
who later organized a company which finally undertook the
work. He pointed out that the plan was feasible ; that it was
possible to scale those heights and to build the western end of
a transcontinental line. At last he awakened enough of their
sympathy for them to begin to help him. They intended to
try to build the road for fifty miles to connect with the western
terminus of the wagon road. He begged them to take another
route, pointed out that by taking that route 1,600 feet in ele
vation would be saved, but they shook their heads incredu
lously. They said, "Possibly we can, but such subsidies as we
can get and by such help as we can draw to us, complete the
road as high as Dutch Flat, and then if the Comstock mines
hold out for a few years we can all make little fortunes." And
while they were speaking that way, this man was in thought
starting a train from Sacramento, seeing it scale two great
ranges of mountains and the desert which stretched away be
tween these ranges and making a revolution in the world's
commerce. In thought he saw cities spring up along the trail
which he should blaze in the wilderness. He saw the exhaus
tion, the terror and the fatigue of crossing the plains taken
away, and so while he talked strict business to the principals
in the enterprise, and while by his skill no mistakes were made
in estimating grades or curves, when the day's work was fin
ished the lullaby that he went to sleep on was the far off echo
of the whistles which would blow in midcontinent before his
work should be done.
This work was not like the work of the ancients. It was
a monument built to Industry. Its object was to forge a
mighty link to connect with steel the two great oceans. It
was to push the frontier back. It was, through a dreary and
fearful wilderness, to smooth a way so that civilization might,
with unsoiled sandals, advance along this new path and build to
herself temples. It was to be a monument to progress which
was to shine out on the world fairer than did the watch tower
on the Nile ; fairer than the statue of Minerva, with its gold and
ebony and ivory and precious stones. It was to be a notice of
American power, much more impressive than was the statue

THEODORE D. JUDAH. 35
that stood at the entrance of Rhodes in honor of the sun. It
was to herald a new epoch.
It was to create clouds by day and pillars of fire by
night which for all time should light the way for commerce.
It was to be a rolling fort of defense against savages. It was
to make possible the driving away of the frown from the repel-
lant face of the desert, and to make it possible for fair homes
and great cities to appear where before all had been desolation
since the beginning of time. It was to solve new feats in en
gineering, and to give mankind a new notice that the earth
and all therein are subject to the domination of royal brains.
The work has been duplicated north and south since then, but
that does not detract in the least from the glory of the first
achievement, and the inauguration of that glory was due, is
due and always will be due more to T. D. Judah than to any
other one or to any other ten men. He dreamed it out first.
He established its practicability by his unerring instruments.
He turned all the enthusiasm of his great nature into the work
until he infused some cool business brains with some of the
fervor of his energy and hope. When the first stakes were set
he went to Congress and renewed there his impassioned argu
ments in favor of the project, and when the line was completed
to Ogden, then when its success had been established, he tried
with all his strength to bring to his associates the aid necessary
to purchase the Union Pacific, and make a continuous line
under one company, from the Missouri to Sacramento. He
wore himself out, and died in the mighty work, but his life was
spared until the road was finished, and now it is his monument.
He needs no other. The Union Pacific company, in gratitude
for the solid business persistence which drove west the eastern
end of the transcontinental line, built for the Ames on the sum
mit of the Rockies a monument of granite. Judah needs no
other monument but the road itself. But it would be a graceful
thing for the company which was organized through his genius
and carried to success by his genius, to build to him on the
Sierras a monument of marble.
He was a great man. Among men he was like Saul. He
was taller than most of them; he was strongly made; he was

36 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
massive every way. He was given the enthusiasm of the poet
and the solid combinations of the scientific engineer. He con
secrated his life to the eighth wonder of the world. He saw it
completed and then, worn out, lay down and died. When the
names of the strong men and the great men who found Cali
fornia a wilderness and then caused the transformation which
revealed a glorified State, are called over, one after the other,
close to the very head of the shining list should be the name of
T. D. Judah.
The near friends of the stalwart men who built the road
may hold that the foregoing is a slighting of the builders'
sagacity, public spirit and prescience. It is not so intended.
What they did was a wonder, but it is true that at first they
did not believe in the possibility, much less the feasibility, of
the enterprise. When they began, their hope was to complete
a road to Dutch Flat only. But that was far in advance of the
opinions of the masses of men in California, almost infinitely
in advance of the "sound thought" of the wise financiers of the
East. It was all clear to Judah from the first ; the splendor of it,
the practicability of it, what it would be to native land.
It came of the sagacity, the poetry, the patriotism of
the man. He heard the far-off call and gave the command. The
mountains were bowed down, the valleys exalted, the rolling
waves of the desert subdued.
On Memorial days, when the list of the names of the mas
terful men of California is read, when that of Judah is reached
the chariots of the world's commerce should be halted as the
great name is spoken.

CHARLIE FAIRFAX.
I SAY "Charlie," but in truth had he gone to England and
claimed his title, he would have been Lord Charles Fair
fax, for he was a lineal descendant of the House of Fair
fax, and at the time he lived was entitled to be the head of the
house, though he was born in Virginia and was of the third or
fourth generation of Virginian Colfaxes.
He showed his lineage in three or four characteristics. He
was handsome and every look was of a high-born race. There
is an old belief that it requires seven generations of colts to
breed up from a cold-blooded dam a thoroughbred. If the
same rule applies to men, then Charlie Fairfax had only thor
oughbred ancestors for quite five hundred years ; for when him
self he was the most absolutely natural gentleman that I ever
saw. He had a grace of action, a natural courtesy ; a thought-
fulness for guests and a way of making men feel that he had
a solicitude for their well-being and happiness that could not
be imitated by any man that I ever met.
Behind it all he held within his breast a lion's heart, that
no danger could appall — he was absolutely without fear. He
would have ridden beside Cardigan at Balaklava, or Pickett
at Gettysburg, and one to have seen his face would have
thought he was on the way to a picnic.
With these qualities it may be asked why he did not make
himself a great name. We suspect it was because of his train
ing in part, and also in part certain qualities of his mind which
made success impossible. From earliest childhood he was
taught that he must keep his honor pure ; that he must never
fail in courage, and never for a moment forget that his ances
tors for many generations had all been gentlemen.
He was given a good education, but slaves did the work
around him and he never had the least business training ; was
never taught even to think of the every-day duties of life, or
the value of money, or that the day might come when cares
would enter his life or the need of honest work on his part

38 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
would be a duty. He was brought up on a farm in Virginia ;
he was an expert with firearms of all kinds ; he loved to hunt
and could lure fish from the streams, but he never held a plough
or swung an axe — why should he ? Why should he undertake
to compete with slaves ?
What could such a man as that do in a land such as Cali
fornia was in those first days, when there was a wilderness to
subdue, an empire to create, and when progress was driven
on by an energy as tireless as that which keeps the stars moving
in their processions ?
He was elected clerk of the Supreme court of California,
which, it was said, paid a salary of $30,000 per annum. But
he saved nothing from it. What was the difference whether
he had a few thousands on hand or owed a few thousands in
debts? A multitude of anecdotes were told of him in those
days. He had a beautiful wife — his home was a dream — but
when, as he did sometimes, go home intoxicated, his wife would
not scold, but would cry. One summer night, in Sacramento,
he started home in that condition. It was about 2 :30 a. m.
Not a drop of rain had fallen for four months in Sacramento,
and there was no prospect of a drop falling for four months
to come. But Charlies banged away at the door of a dry goods
store until finally a sleepy clerk responded and opened the door.
Fairfax bought an umbrella and went home. He admitted
himself as softly as he could, ascended noiselessly to his wife's
apartments, where the gas was turned half-down; sat down
and raised the umbrella over his head. By this time his wife
had awakened, and, sitting up in bed, she said sharply:
"Charles Fairfax! What are you doing? Have you gone
crazy." "No, Ada, dear," was the reply; "just waiting for the
shower." He was going home about 4 :30 one morning when, pass
ing an open stand on the corner — it would be called a "buffet"
nowadays; it was called "pigsfoot corner" then — Fairfax
stopped at the counter and ordered a cup of hot coffee and a
sandwich. When they were disposed of he felt in all his pock
ets, but had not a penny. He explained how things were to
the old German who kept the place ; told him who he was and

CFIARLIE FAIRFAX. 39
that he would bring the money when he came up town next
day. But that was not satisfactory. The German came around
the counter, took him by the arm and said : "Dere's too many
vonr kinds of cusses dese days ; you gums inside and stays
mit me till dot bill vos zettled." Charlie quietly went around
the counter and took a seat in full view of the street. An
hour later an early-awake merchant came hurriedly down the
street on his way to business. Glancing over the counter he
saw Fairfax; stopped and said: "Fairfax, what in the Lord's
name are you doing there." "I'm in jail," said Charlie; "I am
in arrears to this gentleman in the sum of twenty cents ; he has
served a restraining order on me and threatens to make it a
perpetual injunction." At last the matter was explained, the
merchant advanced the twenty cents and Charlie was permitted
to go home. But on leaving, Charlie took off his hat and with
a courtly grace bowed to the bewildered pigs foot vendor and
assured him that he had never tasted finer coffee and sand
wiches. He had another experience in San Francisco. He had
been in the city two or three days, and woke one morning
to find that he had not a penny in his clothes. He went out
on Montgomery street and there met an old friend, who said :
"Fairfax, have you been to breakfast?" He answered, "No,"
whereupon the friend said : "I wish you would ask me to
breakfast, for last night I hit a faro bank and went broke inside
of twenty minutes." '"But I have not a cent, either," said
Fairfax. Both laughed and were discussing how they were
going to manage to get breakfast, when a mutual friend of both
came up, and said: "Gentlemen, just around on Sacramento
street is the finest restaurant in the world. Come and have
breakfast with me !"
After proper hesitation they accepted. A superb break
fast was ordered, but when nearly finished the friend said :
"There's my old friend Hastings at the door. I must see him ;
please excuse me one moment."
Fie did not return. They nibbled at the remnants of the
breakfast for five minutes or more and then Fairfax said :
"He's gone; what are we going to do?" "Blamed if I know,''

40 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
was the reply. Fairfax called a waiter and said : "Is it time
for spring chickens yet?" The waiter replied that they had
some exceptionally fine ones.
"Well," said Charlie, "broil us two, and look, ye, I want
them broiled slowly until they take on just the right brown.
I would rather wait than have them hurriedly cooked."
The chickens were brought on. They had been slowly
cooked and were slowly eaten. Just as the final crisis was
imminent a Sacramento friend of Fairfax came in. In a word
Fairfax explained the desperation of the case; the friend
laughed, and saying, "I must get a hurried breakfast for I
am busy today," held out his hand which had a twenty-dollar
piece in it, which in the handshake was transferred; then
Charlie settled the bill, tipped the waiter and the two went out.
Just beside the door stood the friend who had asked the two
to breakfast. In a rage, Fairfax demanded why he had played
a trick like that upon them. "You see," said the friend, "I had
not had a morsel of food for two days and I was hungry."
Then they all laughed and Fairfax gave the man $5 of the $20
he had just borrowed ; $5 to the other friend, and said, "That
leaves me $4, and I can get home with that."
After some years in California, Fairfax went back to Vir
ginia to visit his father and mother.
In his absence, his father had become a fanatical prohi
bitionist; brought out all his wines and liquors and poured
them on the ground. Charlie had written that he was coming
and was therefore expected. He reached the old home one
morning and found his mother in the living room. After the
excitement of the meeting had subsided a little the mother said:
"Charlie, you know how papa is about all kinds of liquor, so
when you wrote that you were coming I got a bottle of the
best for sale in Richmond; it is in the cabinet and whenever
you want a little you will find it." "Well, mother, inasmuch
as I have not seen you for a good while I believe I will drink
your health now," said Charlie, and he did. Then he went
up to meet his father in the library, where his mother said he
would find him. There were warm greetings, but after a few
minutes the father said : "Charlie, you know what my senti-

CFIARLIE FAIRFAX. 41
ments are about all alcoholic drinks, but you have been out
west, and so when I heard you were coming, I quietly sent for
a bottle of the best Bourbon. It is in that bookcase, the third
from the door, and when you want a drink I will turn my
back on you so as not to see you."
"Well, father," said Charlie, "it is seven years since I've
been home; I believe it is my duty to drink to your long life,"
and with that he went to the bookcase, found the bottle and
got outside the drink. Then he asked where Jeff was (the old
colored servant), who had been his playmate in childhood.
He was told that Jeff was probably in the carriage house
or stables, and Charlie started out to find him. Jeff was wild
with delight and expressed his joy in exaggerated antics. But,
cooling down a little after awhile, he said, "Massie Charlie,
yo knows how crazy old Massie has got on de liker business,
but I heard you wuz comin', and Ah says, young Massie is not
goin' ter be cheated. I stole seben dozen eggs, sold 'em and
got der finest bottle you eber tasted and it's heah in der hay
mow." Charlie took a drink with Jeff. After awhile he asked
for Steve, the gardener. Fie found him trailing a grape vine.
Steve was a quiet old darkie, but after awhile he said, "Massie
Charlie, I knowd yo was comin' and what old Massie thinks
'bout drinkin', so look a heah !" There, under a leaf in the
cabbage patch, was another bottle and Charlie drank with
Steve. All his life thereafter he declared that there was nothing
else so perilous to perfect sobriety as to visit a prohibition ranch
before breakfast in the morning.
Fairfax spent some time in Virginia City, Nev.
One night a gentleman was escorting his own wife and
Mrs. Fairfax to some entertainment when they met a notorious
ruffian, who, on seeing them, loaded the air with imprecations
and anathemas aimed at them.
It was heard by others who when, three hours later, they
saw Fairfax coming down the street, knew by his manner that
something serious was on, caught him and begged him not to
mind what the ruffian had said, that he was drinking and a
most brutal and dangerous man; to which Fairfax replied:

42 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
"What do I care for that thug? I want to find the man who
permitted him to insult my wife and his own wife and did not
kill him." One clay on the street in Sacramento Fairfax became en
gaged in an altercation with a man who at one time had been
a deputy clerk under Fairfax. The quarrel grew fierce and
they proceeded to blows, when the man drew a sword from
the cane he was carrying and drove it through the shoulder
of Fairfax below the clavicle. Fairfax, who was a dead shot,
drew a deringer from his vest pocket, cocked it and aimed it
at the man ; then he dropped his arm and said : "You are a
cowardly murderer; you have killed me, but you have a wife
and children and I will spare your life," and then sank fainting
into the arms of a friend.
It was thought the wound was fatal, but at last he rallied
from its effects and lived eleven years. When he died, a post
mortem was held and the surgeon said to one of the friends of
Fairfax : "Do you say this wound was received eleven years
ago?" When answered in the affirmative, the surgeon said:
"Then God must have interposed to save his life. Save where
the blade entered and made its exit the wound is as fresh and
unhealed as though made but an hour ago. It is the most
astonishing thing in the history of wounds."
The memory of Charlie Fairfax lingers with only a few
old-time friends now, whereas his name should have had a
national and international fame; for he had abundant talent,
the splendid prestige of an honored name. A little discipline
in youth and something high to call out his manhood as he
went out into the world, would have brought unmeasured
honors to him; but he never would take life seriously and
seemed to care nothing about the name he was to leave, except
that no taint of dishonor should attach to it.

THE GENTLEMAN FROM PIKE.
IN THE West (I suspect it is so everywhere) are men
whom their fellowmen designate as "empire builders."
Some of them deserve the title. When men put the ma
chinery in motion and watch and work until it is made clear
that it will grind away the barbarism of the frontier, and make
possible, out of what was a wilderness to create glorified states,
they are entitled to wear the badge of empire builders.
There have been many of these in the world. Romulus
with his plough marked the boundaries of what was to be
"The eternal City" and maintained his place until it was ac
cepted as true that a new nation had been created. He was an
empire builder.
When Fernando Cortes burned his ships that there might
be no retreat and proceeded to overthrow the Aztec dynasty
with its human sacrifices, and on that soil to plant a Christian
nation, whatever else may be said of him and his methods, he
was certainly an' empire builder.
Almost all nations preserve the traditions of how their
countries were first rounded into civilized form, and to hold
as empire builders the first actors in the great drama. We in
the United States have had many of these ; their names would
make a long and majestic roll.
But with most of these there was a lofty or deep down
selfish purpose.
Some have been intent upon creating a place which would
require high officers, and the unspoken thought was "I will
fill the very highest of them and make of mine a name to be
remembered." Others have been impelled by a desire to found on a firm
basis the religion which they believed was the right one and
to hedge it round with safeguards which would last for all
time. Some have said to themselves : "The curse of the world
is poverty ; in that new land there will be opportunities, so soon

44 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
as order can be established, to gather rapidly what men really
covet most, a vast treasure in gold and lands, all that the land
can produce and all that gold can buy."
Others, dissatisfied with all human government, have
determined that there shall at last be one perfect government,
which, when the world realizes its perfections, there will be
an epoch : the nations will accept it, and the cry will be, " 'Bout
face !" and "Forward, march !'
Out of all these I select the very greatest, for a brief
review. I refer, of course, to "the gentleman from Pike." He is,
or at least was, half a century ago, unlike all others.* He did
not dream of going out and conquering a kingdom. He had
no plan for starting a new religion. He was satisfied with
what he had. His choice lay between the Baptist and the
Methodist, but he inclined toward the latter because there was
more shout to it and less use for water.
He had no desire to found any new government. His pri
vate belief was that there was already too much government
in the world.
Neither did he dream of finding gold or silver mines.
They were out of his line.
What he wanted was more land, especially grass land. If
near it there could be woods with wild game; mast for his
pigs, plenty of berries in the summer, and nuts and wild honey
to be gathered later, they would all be welcome.
Most people gain their impressions from their immediate
surroundings and so this pathfinder in secret thought wanted
to find a new Missouri, as Missouri was before the land was
increased in value by the coming of so many unwelcome neigh
bors. Cheap and rich lands without troublesome neighbors,
whose thrift magnified the carelessness of his methods by com
parison. So, upon his prairie schooner he loaded his household
goods, leaving a corner in the huge wagon bed for his house-

*Half a century ago Pike County, Missouri, was so strongly rep
resented in California that at last all emigrants across the plains were
referred to as "Pike county men."

THE GENTLEMAN FROM PIKE. 45
hold gods, yoked his oxen and hitched them to the wagon, tied
a cow behind the wagon, then, heading his team to the west,
started. Then the air of the wilderness began to be sanctified by
his swear words, and so varied, so picturesque and all embrac
ing was his vocabulary, that timid animals in his path fled at
hearing it, and the eagle on swift wing and fast-beating heart
sought his eyrie to regain his usual repose of manner.
He had heard that there were plenty of grass and good
water one hundred or two hundred or a thousand miles away,
and those were the things he wanted.
If the sky was sapphire above him and the winds were
laid, he merely said to himself, "It looks like to be a good day,"
and drove on ; maybe he sang a little. If the winds rose and
the dust half-blinded him, he did not mind them ; he never even
cleared his throat except when he wanted his vocal chords to
help him in emphasizing his wishes to the oxen.
He carried a stock of adjectives with which to adorn his
oration in case the wild man disputed his trespass; he carried
an old-fashioned fowling-piece with which to convert wild ani
mals into food; he and his wife and white headed children ate
their simple food and never murmured, for the open air and
exercise are tonics for the appetite.
Thus, day by day, he toiled on ; night by night the wagon
supplied a house and sleeping room; a frying pan and coffee
pot and a brush fire were enough cooking utensils for the
whole brood, and the march was continued until the promised
land was found and pre-empted.
It was all made possible because the man was not sensi
tive; it seemed to him duty, and the doing of it was a matter
of course. It was made possible because the undemonstrative woman
in the wagon had enlisted to walk by the man's side while life
lasted ; what she held repressed in her own heart who can tell ?
When the wolves howled around them by night and the hoot
of the owl became at last a sound of derision, it was she who
quieted the fears of the children ; when she thought that in the
event of an accident or illness she would have to be both physi-

46 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
cian and nurse ; when she dreamed at night of the dainty things
she in girlhood had planned to have, and then awoke with only
the natural savagery of the frontier to greet her eyes, she hid
the feeling that it awakened deep in her soul and when her
children cried at the desolation and loneliness, it was her arms
around them and the simple song on her lips that hushed them.
Talk of devotion and courage and that fortitude which faces a
hard lot every day while the years come and go, without plaint
and without repining ; where else can a harder test be found ?
This movement of the Pike county man to the west lasted
more than half a century. It was most pronounced in the
forties, when he never rested until he stood on the bank of the
Columbia ; and in the fifties, when his destination was the val
ley through which flows the Sacramento.
And the wonderful part was that he did not know that he
was a hero.
"Did you not realize when you started that you might have
to fight your way?" was asked one of them.
"Of Course," was the reply. "In one form or another yer
always has ter fight yer way. If it isn't Injuns it's thar thirst
or thar hunger or thar sickness, one blamed thing after another.
It's all in thar play."
But nature is responsive sometimes to men's wishes, and
women's longings. As the company increased, the silence
which had so long surrounded the wilds like a robe was rent by
the cries of advancing hosts. At last, out of the rough out
lines of the wilderness, states were hewed into form ; then came
the scream of the locomotive through the majestic mountains
to dispute the scream of the eagle ; the chariots of commerce
began their roll and it was heralded to the world that in the
great west a new, mighty empire had been created.
Who laid the foundation of this empire? Who steadied
it through its infant years? To whom is the credit most due
for what it now is ? There are many to claim the honor, but
who says the first and highest recognition is not due to the
Who-haw Empire Builder — the gentleman from Pike ?

COLONEL E. D. BAKER.
WHEN alone, sometimes, the present vanishes, and
from out of the soundless past stately forms stalk
into the present, their sovereign faces wearing the
calm of the long ago, but their kindly eyes seem aglow with
memories of other days and other scenes which once filled the
full measure of man's duty here and in which, in the splendor
of their manhood,, they bore their part.
Among them there always comes the shade of E. D. Baker.
It is natural that it should be so, for to earnest boyhood he was
always the ideal man, among the very foremost men who ever
lived on the Pacific coast ; who ever went from the Pacific coast
and died for his country. About five feet eleven inches in
height, and built up to about one hundred and eighty pounds ;
his face was that of Pericles, his eyes in repose sombered like
a hawk's in his wide circles over earth or ocean in the after
noon sunbeams, but blazing like an eagle's when aroused — that
was the picture he made in his daily life among men.
But when on the rostrum some theme worthy of him called
him to its championship; then there was a transformation
scene, and listening and watching more than once I have said to
myself: "It is as when Moses and Elias were transfigured."
Face, eyes, hands were all alive, his voice took on a shrill
cadence that carried men before it at will, and each sentence
closed either ablaze with lightnings and deep roll of the thun
ders that his soul had called up, or with a rhythm like a lofty
anthem. When thus awakened he was all energy, alive through
and through, the ideal of Cicero's orator materialized; the
ideal man of all the earth.
At that time he was a great lawyer ; he had been a brilliant
soldier; he was fitted for any emergency. His politics were
antagonized by the controlling political power that then ruled
the Golden State ; his assailants were sometimes the brilliant
men of the opposition, sometimes the canaille, but he met them
all, he mastered the learned and eloquent by his superior learn-

48 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ing and eloquence, and the coarser class by showing them, to
their discomfiture, the advantage in warfare of a Damascus
blade in a skilled hand over a cleaver wielded by a boor.
He pronounced the eulogy over the remains of the dead
Broderick, and the state was melted to tears ; he made a speech
in New York City in that portentous late autumn of 1860
and set the hearts of his listeners ablaze ; he heard the closing-
twenty minutes of the speech of Breckenridge in the senate, in
justification of his giving up his place as a senator of the United
States and joining the armies that had been marshaled to de
stroy the Union, and at its close at once took the floor, and
when he finished the brilliant Breckenridge as a masterful de
bater was merely a memory. He was the close friend and
adviser of President Lincoln ; he raised and trained a regiment,
was sent against an enemy which outnumbered his command
four to one ; the reinforcements promised him were never sent ;
so when next morning the battle was joined, he, standing, as
was his wont, with right hand in the breast of his coat, received
a volley, at the same instant was struck by four bullets in his
breast, either one of which would have been fatal.
Edward Dickinson Baker was born in London. His
father was a Quaker teacher, but his mother was the sister of
Captain Thomas Dickinson, who fought side by side with Col-
lingwood at Trafalgar, that Collingwood who would have
divided the honors of that great deay with Nelson had not
the latter died just as the thunders of battle grew still.
Colonel Baker did not receive school advantages in
schools, but his father was a teacher, and looked carefully after
his education; and gave him that better education, in some
respects, of taking him to all famous places possible and fill
ing his mind with their stories and legends. He saw the pageant
of the funeral of Lord Nelson, and its splendor and solemnity
lingered with him and influenced all his life.
When he was five years old his father removed to Phil
adelphia, and spent ten years in that city as a teacher.
What Baker read he ever afterward knew. He did not
seem to have any conscious effort of memory ; he at once stored
his mind and it was there, on call, ever after. '

COLONEL E. D. BAKER. 49
He early developed the fact that he was a natural orator.
He studied law and became eminent at once. The Black Flawk
war came on. He fought through that war ; then came the
Mexican war, and then again he enlisted. He was only n ne-
teen vears of age when he was admitted to the bar of Illinois.
In 1835 he removed to Springfield, Illinois, and he must
have been rated a fine lawyer then, for among his partners at
different times were Albert D. Bledsoe, subsequently assistant
secretary of war in the southern Confederacy ; Joseph Hewitt,
and the venerable Judge Stephen P. Logan, whom Illinois peo
ple still declare was the greatest lawyer ever known in the
state. He had among his contemporaries Lincoln, Douglas,
McDougal, Logan, Trumball, Stuart, and others of scarcely
less note. In those days Colonel Baker used to write a good deal
of poetry. Much of it was fine. It was transposing into
rhyme the natural rhythm and eloquence in his soul.
Colonel Baker was in Congress when the Mexican war
broke out, and he hastened from Washington to his home in
Illinois and quickly raised a regiment of volunteers, which he
led to the Rio Grande. He was chosen by General Taylor as
bearer of dispatches to the war department and proceeded to
Washington. Congress was in session and as he had not resigned his
seat in the house, he availed himself of his privilege as a mem
ber to speak. By general consent one of the most important
bills relating to the soldiers was made a special order, and the
chance was given Colonel Baker to discuss it. Having brought
no civilian's clothes with him, he spoke in his military uniform,
and so rapidly that the reporters were unable to make a good
report. It made a most profound impression, and this was
accentuated by Colonel Baker's recitation at the close of a poem
in memory of his comrades who had died in the unhealthy camp
on the Rio Grande.
We give one verse of it, because of its style and because
another poem in the same measure a few years later made and
still makes a profound impression. It was as follows :

50 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
"Where rolls the rushing Rio Grande,
Here peacefully they sleep;
Far from their native Northern land,
Far from the friends who weep.
No rolling drum disturbs their rest,
Beneath the sandy sod;
The mould lies heavy on each breast —
The spirit is with God."
He immediately after resigned his seat in Congress, to
return to Mexico. His regiment was transferred to the de
partment of General Scott, and although he missed Buena
Vista, he took part in the capture of Vera Cruz and greatly
distinguished himself at Cerro Gordo. In that battle, when
General Shields was struck down and the brigade faltered for
want of a leader, Colonel Baker took in the situation at once,
and shouting to his regiment, "Come on!" he ordered the
whole brigade to advance. For his gallantry and skill, Gen
eral Scott continued Colonel Baker in command of the bri
gade. When the fierce debate came on on the question of admit
ting California to statehood, Colonel Baker was in Congress
and urged its admission. When in reply Venable and Toombs
referred to Baker's foreign birth, Baker fiercely replied, and
closed with these fateful words :
"If the time should come when disunion rules the hour
and discord is to reign supreme, I shall again be ready to give
the best blood in my veins to my country's cause."
When President Taylor died he was still in Congress and
pronounced a most beautiful eulogy on the dead general and
president. After reviewing his career from a captaincy in the
war with Great Britain up through his career as commander
in Mexico, he said :
"Mr. Speaker, the character upon which Death has just
set his seal is filled with beautiful and impressive contrasts:
A warrior, he loved peaee; a man of action, he sighed for
retirement. Amid the events which crowned him with fame, he
counseled a withdrawal of our troops. And whether at the
head of armies or in the chair of state, he appeared as utterly

COLONEL E. D. BAKER. 51
unconscious of his great renown as if no banners had dropped
at his word, or as if no gleam of glory shone through his
whitened hair."
In 1852 Colonel Baker, with his entire family, migrated
to California and settled in San Francisco.
California was indeed a new field for him. He had seen
stormy political times in Illinois ; had passed through many a
fierce campaign where a good deal that was brutal was exhib
ited. He had been in Congress a potent advocate of the ad
mission of California, but he did not know that from the hour
of its admission, the preparations for a secession of the south
had been going on, that in California many of the prominent
men from the old South were in the movement
Broderick, by his magnetism and power, was fighting his
way; when he won his party divided, and by the "chivalry"
wing he was marked as an enemy and put down for slaughter
when the time should be ripe. Baker, as the most conspicuous
Republican, repeatedly canvassed the state.
He was fiercely assailed; with every assault his voice
grew louder and clearer, his fame took on a higher and higher
stature. His answers to coarse invective were clarion calls for
enlightenment and all-embracing freedom, until the men who
"came to scoff went away to pray." His voice was a clear tenor
and when in full volume seemed to fill all space with music.
The modern schools have extended their studies ; the world
is filled with modern books, with the result that the graduates'
learning has been widened, but it sometimes lacks thorough
ness. Four score years ago the ancient classics were insisted
on in the schools until, at least with some students, they were
so assimilated that they were part of their lives and gave color
to all their intellectual efforts. It was so with Col. Baker.
One of his greatest triumphs was in the mining camp of
Goodyear's Bar — high up on the Yuba and amid some of the
sublimest of California mountains. Here were six hundred
placer miners, and very few women. 'At the election the year
before Colonel Baker went there only one Republican vote was
cast. Baker said he would go and reinforce that voter.
Standing on a carpenter's bench in front of a saloon he

52 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
began his speech. There was a large sprinkling of Irishmen in
the crowd. The whole camp was present, but it had been whis
pered around and it was understood that there should be no
applause. Baker spoke for half an hour, his voice being the only
sound heard. But that was the year when the anti-foreign
Know Nothing party was in full force in California. When
Baker reached that part of his speech, he gave a word painting
of Reilly's Irish regiment in battle in Mexico, as he had watched
it. When at the very climax he pointed to a staff from which
the Stars and Stripes had been lowered, and passing from the
description of the battle scene he delivered an apostrophe upon
the flag. The crowd had grown very restless under the enchantment
of his eloquence, and as he paused for a moment, a mighty yell
as of a horde of wild Indians was started, and still yelling, but
with tears running down their cheeks, a rush was made to grasp
and bear away in triumph in their arms the speaker. The
bench was overthrown, those upon it were pitched headlong
upon the heads of those below, but no one was hurt. Then
there was a night of it.
On that occasion Baker justified what Stanley said of him
in his funeral eulogy over his body — "How irresistible he was
when he deprived men of their reason as he overwhelmed them
in admiration of his transcendant genius."
Colonel Baker's triumphs at the bar — that wonderful old-
day California bar — were, if possible, greater than on the ros
trum. When it looked as though Cora, who killed Richardson,
could get no lawyer to defend him, so fierce was public opinion,
Baker went to his defense, and in his argument to the jury
gave his reasons in these words :
"The profession to which we belong is, of all others, fear
less of public opinion. It has ever stood up against the tyranny
of monarchs on the one hand, and the tyranny of public opinion
on the other.
"And if, as the humblest among them, it became me to in
stance myself, I may say with a bold heart, and I do say it
with a bold heart, that there is not in all this world the wretch

COLONEL E. D. BAKER. 53
so humble, so guilty, so despairing, so torn with avenging
furies, so pursued by the arm of the law, so hunted to cities of
refuge, so fearful of life, so afraid of death — there is no wretch
so steeped in all the agonies of vice and crime, that I would
not have a heart to listen to his cry and a tongue to speak in
his defense, though round his head all the wrath of public
opinion should gather and rage and roar and roll as the ocean
rolls around the rock."
When California celebrated the laying of the first Atlantic
cable, Baker was the orator in San Francisco. His oration
was illuminated all the way through with the lightning flashes
of his genius and eloquence.
No finer oration was ever delivered in any country than
was Baker's, no finer from Demosthenes down to Lincoln's
Gettysburg speech; no more enchanting eloquence was ever
listened to.
Baker pronounced the funeral eulogy over Broderick.
Never had such a host thronged to a funeral in California.
The crowd was measured by acres. Of the oration, Edward
Stanley said :
"I have read no effort of that character, called out by such
an event, so admirable, so touching, so worthy the sweet elo
quence of Baker. It should crown him with immortality."
Of it George Wilkes wrote :
"At the foot of the coffin stood the priest, at its head, and
so he could gaze fully on the face of his dead friend, stood the
fine figure of the orator. * * * For minutes after the
vast throng had settled itself to hear his words, the orator did
not speak. He did not look in the coffin — nay, neither to the
right nor left ; but the gaze of his fixed eye was turned within
his mind and the tear was on his cheek. Then, when the silence
was most intense, his tremulous tones rose like a wail and with
an uninterrupted stream of lofty, burning and pathetic words he
so penetrated and possessed the hearts of the sorrowing multi
tude that there was not one cheek less moist than his own.
When he had finished the multitude broke into an agonized
response of sobs."
A rough man who was there told me that when Colonel

54 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Baker stretched out his arms over the casket and said : "Men
of California, the man whose body lies before you was your
senator," every hat was doffed in an instant.
In February, 1860, Colonel Baker, by invitation of Ore
gon friends, removed to that state.
At that time the state was solidly Democratic and there
were many great Democrats there to hold the state in line.
Colonel Baker made a thorough canvass, speaking in every
camp, town, and city, with the result that the next January he
was elected United States senator.
On his way to Washington he, in San Francisco, made a
speech that fairly electrified that city and the whole state.
In New York he made a marvelous speech. His most noted
speeches in Washington were first, his reply to Senator Judah
P Benjamin, then to Senator Breckenridge. Those speeches
must be read in their entirety to be fully appreciated.
On the forenoon of that day of the Breckenridge speech,
Colonel Baker had been out drilling his regiment. He went
to the capitol, lay down on a lounge in a cloak room, and fell
asleep. Sumner and a few others thought that while Baker
could prepare a fine speech and deliver it splendidly, he could
not speak impromptu. A senator woke him, explained that
Breckenridge was making a fearful speech, and asked him if
he would reply to it.
He promptly consented, arose and entered the senate
chamber in his uniform. He carried the senate and the sal-
lenes by storm. When, near the close, he referred to the
sneering question of Breckenridge, asking where men could be
found to go to the subjugation of the south, after saying
what the states would do, Baker said: "The most peaceable
man in this body may stamp his foot upon this senate chamber
floor, as of old a warrior and a senator did, and from that
single tramp will spring forth the armed legions." Just then
the scabbard of his sword, struck the floor, ringing through
the hall, and a mighty thrill struck the listeners.
Colonel Baker, from the old Illinois days, had been one
of the most trusted of Lincoln's friends. When the first inaug
uration of President Lincoln came, it was Colonel Baker who

COLONEL E. D. BAKER. 55
introduced him to the throng that had gathered to the inaugural
ceremonies. After General McClellan had been appointed to the su
preme comand of the army of the Potomac, President Lincoln
sent Baker with an important message to McClellan. The
men met and measured each other, and a few days later Colonel
Baker said to a friend : "I am going to take my command into
one battle to show that I am not afraid. If I live through it, I
will then resign, for things do not suit me.
He was sent to Balls Bluff. The next morning he was
killed ; the reinforcements promised him were never sent, and
so soon it was known that he was dead, his command was
withdrawn. On his person was found a major-general's com
mission signed by President Lincoln. Of his death John Hay
wrote :
"Edward Dickinson Baker was promoted by one grand
brevet of the God of Battles, above the acclaim of the field,
above the applause of the world, to the Heaven of the martyr
and the hero."
There was a public funeral in Washington. It would
have been in the White House except for repairs going on.
Splendid eulogies were pronounced in both houses of Con
gress. Even Senator Sumner made a touching address, clos
ing with the words : "Call him, if you please, the Prince
Rupert of battle : he was also the Prince Rupert of debate."
But the great speech was by his old time Illinois friend,
Senator McDougall of California. The historian says : "The
surprise, the thrill of the occasion was the speech of Mr. Mc
Dougall of California.'
There were funeral services in many places in California
and Oregon. Edward Stanley was the orator in San Francisco,
Starr King also made a most touching address. The whole
coast was in mourning.
The soul of Colonel Baker went out from a battle-field
nearly half a century ago, but the splendor of his genius and
patriotism still lingers over this west, and the echoes of the
music of his voice, blending with the murmur of winds and
streams, give a softer rhythm to both.

DARIUS OGDEN MILLS.
DARIUS OGDEN MILLS was a financier of the most
perfect type. He was a forty-niner, I believe, and had
a little money when he reached San Francisco. He
went to California with the idea that as California was a land
of gold, it was every man's duty to get as much of that gold
as he honestly could. We say honestly could, for Mr. Mills
was an honest man, often a coldly honest man.
Reaching San Francisco, his eyes turned naturally to such
commercial and financial news as was then available. South
ern California mines — mines south of the San Francisco paral
lel — were sending up much gold, and he went to them,
bringing up, I think, at or near San Andreas. He probably
brought with him a stock of miners' goods and opened a little
store, but of this I am not sure. When I first heard of him
it was as a gold dust buyer and banker. Gold is worth $20.67
per ounce, when pure, but gold dust is not quite pure, and
ordinary California dust generally sold at from $16.50 to $18
per ounce when unalloyed ; on the east side of the Sierra, it was
alloyed with silver and brought from $11 to $13 per ounce.
I believe that buyers expected to clear about $2 per ounce,
and when two or three hundred miners came in on .Saturday
night or Sunday morning with the dust they had mined the pre
vious week, from three ounces to thirty and forty ounces each,
the man who purchased the dust was doing fairly well.
When the cream of the placers was skimmed Mr. Mills re
moved to Sacramento and opened a bank, continuing the pur
chase of gold dust. The stages and pack animals brought it in
from all sections of the state from Siskiyou to Mariposa.
Mr. Mills quickly made a state-wide reputation as a far-
sighted business man and safe and high-minded banker.
Many people have wondered that the big four who built
the old Central Pacific railroad did not enlist and include D. 0.
Mills. I know nothing of the facts, but think I understand per-

DARIUS OGDEN MILLS. 57
fectly why such a thing would have been impossible at the time.
Careful business men looked upon the scheme of building
a railroad over the Sierra as impossible, and if possible utterly
impractical, for what was there beyond but the desert ?
It seemed that way to Huntington and Hopkins, but they
did have a hope of building to Dutch Flat, then by connecting
with their toll road to Truckee, to make a fortune.
With Stanford it was different. Stanford, when young,
never discounted native land, nor the possibilities that might
quickly materialize into accomplished facts.
When W. C. Ralston was organizing the California bank
he wanted a president that would give dignity and strength
and character to the new institution, and he chose Mr. Mills,
who accepted the place. It had become a commanding financial
institution, when Mr. Sharon wired from Virginia City that
the thing the Comstock needed was a real bank, and Ralston
wired him back to "come to San Francisco and we will talk it
over." The result was the establishment of the branch bank in
Virginia City, with Sharon in charge.
There had been some petty banks that had loaned their
money at five per cent per month, which the borrowers could
not pay. Their property could not be realized on, the banks had
no more money to loan — it was nearly a tie up and lockout all
around. Sharon took up the indebtedness, with liens on mines and
mills as security, reduced interest to one per cent per month,
established regular pay days at the mines and generally re
moved the weights that had paralyzed effort and made labor
impotent. Dealing in stocks was changed from feet to shares,
and he dealt in them himself.
What Webster said of Hamilton might have been said of
William Sharon at that time :
"He smote the rock of the national resources, and abund
ant streams of revenue burst forth. He touched the corpse of
public credit and it sprang upon its feet."
But within a year Sharon had loaned out of the bank's

58 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
money $700,000, with nothing behind it but some interests in
mills and mines.
People cannot comprehend it now, but that was a vast
sum at that time. It seemed much greater than $17,000,000
does now.
When Mr. Mills as a stockholder and director of the
parent bank saw the figures, he was shocked. He insisted that
a meeting of the directors be called and Sharon sent for. It
was done, and in a fiery speech he reviewed the figures and
demanded 1 F at the Comstock business should be closed up, the
branch bank be called in, the losses relegated to the column of
losses, and that thenceforth the bank should pursue a legiti
mate banking business.
In reply Sharon stated the situation as it appeared to him,
he being on the ground and watching everything; said the
property he had acquired was live property and declaring that
if given a few more months' time he would not only clear up
everything, but make the parent bank more money than its
original capital.
Ralston sided with Sharon and carried a majority of the
directors to his side. As a last fling, Mills pointed out the old
quartz mills that Sharon had purchased and declared that they
were fit only for the scrap pile. To this Sharon replied that
he had made a little money legitimately outside the bank and
would take the mills at what they had cost the bank.
This was agreed to. Ralston joined with Sharon, and
the Union Milling company was organized. It was said that
it made money sometimes when the mines did not, for the
charge of railing was $12 per ton, and a good deal of ore
worked did not yield much in excess of that amount. To mill
a ton of $9 and a ton of $18 ore together cost $24, and there
was not much profit left.
Mr. Sharon began to swiftly vindicate himself, and Mr.
Mills began to have faith in his discernment and sometimes
bought stocks himself. When the Belcher and Crown Point
bonanzas were uncovered all concerned made great fortunes,
which the Con. -Cal. Bonanza added. But Ralston, the most
public-spirited man in the world, as the money came in, began

DARIUS OGDEN MILLS. 59
to launch out. He opened New Montgomery street, began the
building of the Palace hotel, and* spread out in a hundred direc
tions, and reduced the deposits in the bank down so low that
it was forced to close its doors. When, at a meeting of the
directors, the real facts were made clear, Mills arose, and going
to Ralston's private office, demanded his resignation as presi
dent. Ralston turned to his desk, wrote the resignation, handed
it to Mills, arose, put on his hat, walked to north beach, and
sprang into the bay.
Many men have blamed Mills for that act. Certain it is
that had the case been reversed, had Mills made the failure,
Ralston would have gone to him, put his arm around him and
said : "Brace up, Mills ; you have made a mistake, but who of
us does not make mistakes ; brace up, we will pull through yet."
But D. O. Mills could not do that. He was absolutely
honest ; with him such an act would have looked like condoning
a crime. Mills lived several years at the Palace hotel ; he never
built a fine home in the west. In private he was most courteous
and agreeable to meet.
He built one. great office building in San Francisco ; he was
the chief factor in the building of the Virginia and Truckee
railroad, and in the Palisade and Eureka road, and must have
gotten his money back many times from both roads. He
financed the Carson and Colorado road. He removed to New
York City about thirty-two or thirty-three years ago.
His building of the Mills hotels in New York was charac
teristic of the man. He never believed much in direct charity,
but rather in that indirect charity which was a help to honest
effort. He figured that if he could reduce the living expenses
of a laboring man or woman one-half, he or she would have an
increased incentive to work and put by the surplus earnings.
So he built the hotels, and by them gave to working men and
women more sanitary accommodations and better food than
they had been accustomed to at one-half or one-third what they
had been paying. But so exact had been his calculations and
so thorough his knowledge of the cost of things, that the struc-

60 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
tures from the start paid better interest on their cost than
many of the royal sky-scrapers near.
He would not advance money on an undeveloped mine,
for no matter what the promise of it was, there was an element
of chance connected with it, and with him business was an exact
science, around which no visible evidence of chance lingered,
and so as an exact business man he was infallible.
So he went on increasing his fortune, but he never per
mitted his wealth to cause his nature to harden or his native
instincts to wane. He was always a fond husband and father
and no matter how strict were his dealings with men, every
thing he had was always for his loved ones. Their lives were
bound up in his and when he gave them aught, it was as
though he was making a present to himself.
He who was late ambassador to the court of St. James
married his daughter. Home on leave of absence, three years
ago, they entertained the royal Connaught and his family.
We suspect that the boys who were on the Comstock
thirty-five years ago and who are still on this side, as they read
the account said: 'Here's to you, Duke and Whitelaw! We
bear no malice if we did put up some of that money which
makes the entertainment. Shucks to a man who, if he has a
thing to do does not do it gallantly !"
But we would not do Mr. Reid injustice. He was an
able editor and had more money in his own right than any
editor ought to have.
He took the editorship of the Tribune when the pen fell
from the hand of Horace Greeley, and held the paper up to a
standard which in such a place as New York City with the
country behind it could not help but make him rich.
But it was a proud day for him when he met Miss Mills.
D. O. Mills died in 1910 or 1911, if I remember correctly,
died near where he made his first stake, and no more perfect
business man ever made a high name than he.

ED. C. MARSHALL.
HE WAS of the old Virginia and Kentucky Marshall
stock, the brother of the famous Tom Marshall of
Kentucky. He was six feet two inches, I think, in
height, straight as he was tall ; a leonine head on square shoul
ders, dark gray eyes, and hair and whiskers inclined to auburn ;
a natural orator and the most versatile genius that ever took
an audience captive and swayed it as he willed. I had the
honor to know him well. He and one very dear to me crossed
the plains by the southern route in '49, and we lived in the
same town many years. On that route across the continent.
the company was chased for seven days by Apaches.
One mid-day they made camp under a high reef of rocks
to take their luncheon.
Marshall ate his hardtack and drank his coffee, and then
strolled leisurely up to the top of this reef. Suddenly a hun
dred shots from the savages smote the reef. Marshall, with
out hurrying his pace, came down, but when he reached a safe
place in camp he burst out into a torrent of expletives, winding
up with the words : "If there is any gentleman in this com
pany who has the conceit to believe that an Apache can't shoot,
let him go up on those rocks for a few minutes." But none of
them seemed to have any doubts.
On the stump he was all encompassing in his fun, his
pathos and wonderful eloquence. In a speech one night I
heard him describe the famous Democratic convention held in
the Baptist Church in Sacramento in 1854. He said:
"Knowing it was in the house of God, I supposed, of
course, that peace would reign through all the deliberations.
So I went to look on and listen. I remained until members
began to draw revolvers and bowie knives ; then, the day being
warm and the air in the hall close, I went outside.
I took a seat on the shady side of a lumber pile. The
shady side was the one furthest from the church.

62 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Soon a gentleman came by. He evidently had forgotten
some important business, for he was running.
Evidently, too, he was in too much of a hurry to come out
of the door, for he had a window sash around his neck."
He closed with these words: "Talk about corruption!
Why, gentlemen, the man in the moon held his nose as he
passed over Sacramento that night."
He was a candidate for the senate in 1854. Governor
Weller had issued an address in which he overdid the business
of praising the Irish and Germans, who had so gallantly fought
for their adopted country in the Mexican war. Marshall made
a speech a few evenings later. I recall from memory a para
graph of that speech as follows : "Old man Weller has told
you of the devoted patriotism of the Irish and German soldiers
that went, out of love for their adopted country, to help fight
her battles on foreign soil. Don't you believe it, fellow citizens.
Weller does not know. I do. They fought all right enough,
but they went there just as I did, for I was there. I have a
long scar to identify myself that I got there. I was young,
somewhat foolish. I liked adventure. I heard there was going
1.0 be a war, and all my life I had been wondering how it would
¦eem to be in a real battle, so I went. I found out ; but let me
• ell you something. The man who in that company, under that
flag, with drums rolling, bugles calling, and the big guns be
ginning to roar; the man who at that place would not have
been eager to take a hand, would not have been fit to have had
old Fritz for a grandfather or a genuine Irish lady for a
mother." John Bigler was candidate for Governor and Marshall
went over the state debating the issues with him. Governor
Bigler was a short and very corpulent man. They made a tour
of the mountain camps, when on their return to the valley
they held a meeting at Marysville. In the course of his speech
Marshall said : "You would not think it, but my friend Bigler
is the toughest formation that ever an opponent tried to debate
solemn, political issues with. I never realized his charm until
one morning in a mining camp. I arose at dawn and started
out for a walk. I found the governor out ahead of me. He

ED. C. MARSHALL. 63
was going from store to store. In every place he was struck
by the wonderful quality of goods the merchant exposed for
sale. He had seen nothing of their quality, in any of the
stores in the lower cities. Then, the eulogy over, he was most
glad to find such goods, for he wanted to purchase a pair of
trousers, and he knew there was not a pair of pantaloons in
all the mountains of California that would come within six
teen inches of going around him."
He had been in Congress the previous year. I recall a
few words of a speech he made recounting his experience. It
ran like this : "You find queer old chaps in Congress. Hair
thin on the tops of their heads ; their calves all shrunken ; they
do not crack a joke once a month, but when they do, it is a
rib roaster. You know I told you if I got to Congress I would
introduce a Pacific railroad bill that would make them sit up
and take notice. Well, I fixed the bill and introduced it, and
after a while, was given a chance to discuss it. I was getting
along fine. My inner consciousness was telegraphing to my
brain that this was bound to be a winner, when an old chap
with a cracked voice interrupted with the words, "Mr. Speaker,
may I ask the gentleman where he is going to locate his road ?"
"Now," continued Marshall, "I am no civil engineer; if
I build the intellectual part of a road, is not that enough for
one man to do? Why require the purely material part and
demand of me my grades and curves as though I were a
county surveyor?"
All that summer Marshall made his campaign, insisting
that this scramble for office was disgraceful, that the office
should seek the man. But when the legislature met, Marshall
was in full evidence on the streets of Sacramento. A friend
approached him and said : "Mr. Marshall, I thought it was
your theory that the office should seek the man?"
"Certainly it is," was the quick reply, 'but suppose the
office is out looking for him, is it anything more than common
courtesy for him to be where he can be found?"
When the great war became imminent, Marshall drifted
back to Kentucky. After the war he was a candidate for
Congress against Hon. Luke Blackburn. They went over the

64 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
state in joint debate. Marshall sought to get Blackburn to
discuss the tariff question with him. Finally Blackburn did
discuss it for a few minutes in glittering generalities. In reply
Marshall said : "You heard my friend on the tariff. He
reminded me of a beautiful swan sailing on a placid lake; her
plumage stainless as snow ; singing as she sails, absolutely
serene in her self-consciousness, exquisite in her song, drawing
about half an inch of water and totally unconscious of the un
fathomable depths beneath her."
Later in life he returned to California and made the most
terrible arraignment of a lordly culprit in a San Francisco
court ever heard in that state. But when his emotions were
awakened and the theme was worthy of him, it was an enchant
ment to listen to him. Hear this of the California pioneers :
"They were able to win the greatest of all triumphs, the
victory over themselves ; they were able to preserve order with
out law : to maintain justice without tribunals ; their possession
of absolute independence never degenerated into selfishness,
nor the almost savage liberty of a country without law, into
cruelty or oppression.
"Shall we, who, in conscious fulfillment of a great mis
sion, brought method out of chaos, and cultivated the flowers
of justice and safety in the soil of anarchy — yield to lesser dan
gers, and baser temptations? Shall we soil the splendor of
the past?"

COLLIS P. HUNTINGTON.
MASSIVE and strong, compelling in all his ways, C. P.
Huntington filled exactly the world's idea of a mas
terful man of affairs. Had he been trained a
soldier and been given a command, he would not have de
pended upon tactics or grand strategy, but upon force. Fie
would never have fought until he believed he had the heaviest
battalions, and then would have struck directly at the enemy's
center, and his order would have been to "slay and slay and
slay" until all opposition was crushed. From such points in
his history, as they appeared from time to time, the late Mark
Hanna was nearer his type of man than any public man that
I can recall.
Still he was a most courteous and companionable man
to those whom he held as friends, and, deep down, he was a
generous man and most appreciative of those who had favored
him. After a close friendship of nearly forty years he broke
with Leland Stanford because he persisted in permitting the
sycophants around him to elect him United States Senator,
when A. A. Sargent wanted the place. He did so because as
a just man he felt that it was his duty and Stanford's duty
to serve Sargent in every honorable way, in gratitude for the
inestimable services performed without reward in getting the
charter for their railroad, the old Central Pacific, through Con
gress, loaded as it was with subsidies.
That he was a captain among great financiers, he abund
antly established in his more than thirty years' wrestle with
the strongest of them. His one weakness in that regard was
the strength of the late E. H. Harriman. If he once made up
his mind, he would not change it. If he once fixed his eyes
upon a golden cloud, he noted nothing at his feet, though
what he stumbled over might be real gold, while the cloud was
but an illusion made by passing sunbeams. His heart was
fixed on California ; he held it as holding more treasures, treas-

66 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ures in soil, in mines, in scenery, in climate, than any other
state, but when he came to the dividing line where the glori
fied, wooded Sierra, having exhausted all the moisture that
came in from the sea, broke down into the desert to the east;
he said to himself: "All this is but as the barren ocean at
best ; if we build a railroad across it, the road will be but as a
bridge, our profits must come from California and from where
beyond the mountains the green fields are once more found."
And notwithstanding the expansion that he saw in, and the
profits he realized from, that desert, he never changed his
stubborn mind. Thus with the completion of the road to Prom
ontory, his idea was to commercially fortify San Francisco,
and later Los Angeles and San Diego, to keep all opposition
roads from coming in from any direction; his thought being
to build up San Francisco and so far as possible, California,
and to milk the desert for "all that the traffic would bear."
So soon as possible for him he went east and inaugurated
the building of the Chesapeake and Ohio road, his dream evi
dently being to complete, link by link, his roads, to build a
great new capital for commerce at Newport News and depend
upon the through traffic for his ultimate great fortune. He
fought it out on that line as long as he lived. And he dom
inated the other three chief associates with him, and that policy
ruled to the last.
We cannot help but think that had Mr. Harriman been in
his place, when the results from the Comstock, the other great
mines of the desert, and the possibilities of the soil when
touched by water, been shown him ; with a quick intuition he
would have said to himself : "Why, of course, vast treasures
are at my feet, else nature would not have so carefully guarded
them through the centuries, by this forbidding desolation. It
is for me to make them available through a transportation sys
tem that will give the men who toil with brawn and brain a
chance." And he would have fixed his capitals at San Fran
cisco, at Los Angeles, at Portland and Seattle, not to keep
others out — for he would have known that would be impos
sible, but to have covered the country that he wanted and from

COLLIS P. HUNTINGTON. 67
which he would have been sure of drawing sufficient rewards.
And when the mortgages on the old through road fell due,
instead of its being but a rusty line of steel and a right-of-way,
it would have been double-tracked from Omaha and Kansas
City to San Francisco and Portland, so perfect in condition and
equipment that passengers going east or west would have no
thought of taking any other line, and he would have settled
the mortgages with his individual check.
Mr. Huntington was a merchant in Sacramento when the
Comstock was discovered. He, with his business partner,
Mark Hopkins, in consultation with Leland Stanford, Charles
Crocker and his brother, Judge Crocker, after much consid
eration, determined to build a toll road from Dutch Flat over
the Sierra to a terminal on Truckee river, got their charter and
began work. This was in 1859. I have explained how from
that the old Central Pacific Railroad was projected and carried
to completion. But let no one conclude that the building of that road was
not a great achievement. Mountains were not torn down
then as they now are. Dynamite was not discovered then and
nitro-glycerine was awfully dangerous. It was far from the
base of railroad supplies, the second-class labor of California
was scarce and practically worthless, the first-class laborers
could not be obtained; before the work was hardly begun, a
great war was threatening the very life of the nation and fast
destroying its credit, and behind all there was no faith in the
success of the undertaking in any financial center of the world.
Then there was a mile and a quarter in altitude to be made in
ninety miles and the jealous Sierra piled up its obstacles in the
way of the audacious few who were essaying to lead the
assault up its rugged side.
Anyone who remembered how long a time was consumed
in boring the Hoosac tunnel will catch a glimpse of the work
before these men. Charlie Crocker was the executive man in
the field. Mark Hopkins saw to the accounts ; Governor Stan
ford wrote an optimistic letter now and then, while upon Mr.
Huntington was the work of keeping the finances always in

68 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
solid form, and in purchasing rails, rolling stock, etc. Judge
Crocker was too ill to be of much use, and died before the work
was completed. Before the work started, elaborate plans for a railroad
office were prepared. They were shown to Mr. Huntington;
with a pencil he sketched a cheap building, one story, with five
or six rooms, in form and appearance much like a dilapidated
barn, and said : "Build it that way. That will do for us until
we get out of the woods." And it did.
He went east and advertised for bids for a huge contract
for rails and rolling stock. One bid, the lowest, had enclosed
with the bid a separate note explaining that a large percentage
would, should the bid be accepted, be returned to him person
ally as his commission. He accepted the bid, but returned it
with a request that it be made over less the commission, that
it might be filed, as there were to be no individual commissions
in the building of the road.
Mr. Crocker contracted for ten thousand Chinese for
graders, tried them a month, then informed the companies to
which they belonged that there must be a change ; that no men
could work on the food they were restricted to, that wheaten
flour, beef, pork, mutton and vegetables must be substituted
in great part in lieu of the everlasting rice. This was done,
and in another month they became an effective working force.
So the road pushed its way slowly to the crest of the
mountains ; the grade down the eastern slope was much easier,
and when the desert was reached, it was rushed with all speed
until the locomotives touched noses at Promontory.
The minds of the chief actors had grown immensely in
performing their great work. They had, too, apparently
grown in their acquisitiveness. They never for a day used the
road as a common carrier, but as private property. They did
nothing to develop the country through which the road passed,
but rather to exact the utmost revenue possible.
When a carload — ten tons — of ordinary merchandise cost
$340 from Chicago to Sacramento ; if the car was stopped at
Reno, one hundred and fifty miles east of Sacramento and
run up the little fifty-mile road from Reno to the Comstock,

COLLIS P. HUNTINGTON. 69
the charge there was $760. The through freight to Sacra
mento and the local freight back to Reno was exacted. When
people complained, they were treated as enemies, and as nearly
as possible the company owned the legislature, congressmen
and judges of California.
The same company pushed the road from Sacramento
to Oregon, from San Francisco to Los Angeles, for the sub
sidies given for building them, and finally out across Arizona
and New Mexico to eastern connections. It nursed all its ven
tures but the old Central Pacific; that it simply milked until
when the payments came due upon it, it was half a wreck.
Meanwhile, Mr. Huntington had grown to be acknowl
edged as one of the foremost financiers in the nation, and the
spectacle he presented holding up, controlling and guarding the
mighty enterprise that he and his partners had established, after
all his first associates had died and he himself was an old man,
was grand. His brain never faltered, his energy never lost its
spring. His iron will fought all obstacles — he worked in royal
harness to the last, in truth a financial and industrial king. In
the forest of men in California in the Argonaut days there
was one lordly oak. As that first forest melted away and a
new one of different species succeeded, this oak still stood ;
warded off all storms that were hurtled against it ; turned aside
the damp and the frost ; waved its arms in the face of the hur
ricane ; beat back decay ; healed its own wounds ; sheltered its
own eagles, and stood erect until struck and shattered in a
moment by the thunderbolt.
That oak was C. P. Huntington ; one of the highest types
of the men who fought back the savageries of the west coast ;
blazed the trails over which progress could advance, smoothed
the paths and erected signal stations to point the way for civ
ilization to come and build its temples, that at last full enlight
enment might find prepared for it a home.

JUDGE CHARLES H. BRYAN.
WHEN I first knew him he was a young man, perhaps
twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age, hand
some as Adonis, light-brown hair, blue eyes, the
complexion of a carefully-housed girl, but with a singularly
expressive and strong face, a firmly-knit frame, say five feet
nine inches tall, and weighing perhaps one hundred and sixty
pounds. A marked feature was his voice. Even in ordinary
conversation there was a lyric resonance to it, with cadences
that reminded one of the echoes of music that, sounding out
over still waters, strikes a promontory and floats back partly
in music and partly in murmurs. But when speaking to an audi
ence, especially if the occasion or the theme had called out all
his power, that voice took on organ tones and held men spell
bound. In those days, half a century and more ago, learned men
had been more drilled in the classics, as a rule, than they are
at present; men's thoughts seemed to be different from what
they now are ; the shadow of ancient renown was beckoning
them on toward the height of great scholarship and toward
a sphere where the language is as pure as that which Cicero
in Rome and Demosthenes in Greece framed their sentences
from. Now the shadows of sky scrapers, and the stockboard are
upon the eyes of students ; the thought is not to climb the
heights which are lighted eternally from above ; but rather up
those other heights where success, often bruised and scarred,
and befouled and stained by the soil on which it camped on the
trail, is found. And we sometimes think it can be detected in
the voices of men. They seem to have a metallic ring, not the
old sonorous rhythm. The first time I heard Charlie Bryan
speak in public was in a court room. He was defending a sur
geon for malpractice. A man had been shot through the mus
cles of the arm between the elbow and shoulder, the shot graz-

JUDGE CHARLES H. BR VAN. 71
ing but not severing the main artery. The surgeon amputated
the arm and the victim had sued him, claiming heavy damages,
on the ground that the amputation was needless. Eminent
counsel were pressing the suit, and Bryan was alone in the
defense. The suit hung on the question of how serious the
wound was to the main artery. Bryan established that the
outer coat of the artery was wounded. Opposing counsel
insisted that it was but grazed and not seriously injured. An
old army surgeon was called to the stand, the nature of the
wound was described to him and he was asked what the prac
tice would be in the army, if such a wound was encountered.
He promptly replied : 'We would take no chances, but ampu
tate the arm," but at once added, "You know, we have not
much time when a battle is on and many a limb is amputated
that ought to be saved."
Now, when Bryan's client amputated the arm he had
plenty of time, but was in a mountain mining camp where
there were not many facilities for nursing the sick or attending
to the wounded. All the facts were brought out but, boy that I
was, I thought no especial skill had been exercised on either
side. When the arguments began, one of the attorneys for the
plaintiff stated the case briefly, that the man was shot through
the arm, a mere flesh wound that should have been healed in
ten days at most, whereas the bungler in charge, either through
ignorance or a desire to make a large fee and some fame, had
amputated the limb, crippling the man for life.
Then Bryan spoke. His voice to the jury was like a
caress at the opening, as he explained to them their high duty
as jurors, instruments selected to speak in the very name of
justice. He then swiftly reviewed the testimony and declared
that all of importance that had been delivered was by the army
surgeon. Then his voice took on a shriller cadence. In half
a dozen terse sentences he described a battle in progress — one
could hear the volleys and the shouting, the tread of men and
horses and now and then it seemed a strain of marshal music,
the blare of a trumpet and the roll of drums. Then a wounded
man was pictured, a man with a shot through the arm. A
whole corps of surgeons are near ; the probing of the wound

72 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
reveals a wounded artery, and the order is without hesitation :
"The arm must be amputated."
Then the picture was changed to a rough mining camp;
the room a miner's cabin; the lights but a few candles; a lone
surgeon with but few instruments; the wounded man faint
from loss of blood brought in, the wound still bleeding; and in
those rude surroundings the surgeon does the best he can, and
what he does saves the man's life. Then to the jury, in a
solemn voice he said : "Shall this devoted man be punished for
saving that life?"
The speech was but twenty-three minutes in delivery, but
it had woven its spell. The associate counsel for the plaintiff
tried argument and ridicule and scorn in vain against it.
For several years Bryan's success as an advocate and
rostrum orator was phenomenal ; at last he became a judge of
the Supreme court. In that office he never made a mark. He
was essentially an advocate.
Soon after it began to be noticed that his mental faculties
were breaking down. He bought the great race horse Lodi
and was often seen on the race track. He began to drink a
good deal ; then as the crisis of the Civil war grew near, as
Broderick and Ferguson were killed and old friends grew cold,
when it began to be clear what was coming, Bryan was greatly
perturbed. He was an Ohio man by birth, but always a Demo
crat. When the great race between Lodi and Norfolk was on
at San Jose, the colored man who had been the stable com
panion of Lodi since colthood, who, so to speak, had brought
him up, had broken him, trained him and petted him until
neither the man nor the horse desired any other companionship
— this colored man went to a group of gentlemen on the track
and told him that he could do nothing, that Massa Bryan so
interfered with him that he was helpless.
They told the colored man that they had laid heavy wagers
on the horse, and if Bryan tried any more to interfere, to not
mind him, to knock him down if necessary and they would pro
tect him. He went back to the horse and soon Bryan came
again and began to order him what to do. The colored man
took Bryan gently by the shoulders and said : "Massa Bryan,

JUDGE CFIARLES IT. BRYAN. 73
you must go away and not bother me any more until this race
is over." Bryan, astounded, looked at him a moment, then
turned and walked rapidly to a Democratic friend and in a
whisper said : "We must get out of here ; the abolitionists have
got this town."
He drifted to Virginia City, Nevada. There he imagined
he was commander of a picked army which he called "The
Arizona Rifles." He would explain in the most perfect, classic
English what the command consisted of, what its -purposes
were, how high were its motives ; what it was sure to accom
plish — the most beautiful English one could imagine, but not
one word of sense.
It was in the days when the lawsuits on the Comstock
assumed magnified proportions ; it was at the time, too, when
so many companies changed the old forms into corporations.
In those days some young lawyers did not know everything
about corporation laws ; at least their practice had been outside
of them. One night a young lawyer with two or three clients was
discussing an important case which they had on in the courts,
when the lawyer frankly admitted that he was extremely per
plexed and said he wanted associate counsel or at least the
advice of some lawyer who was more familiar with those
phases of the law than he. One of the principals who knew
Bryan well, said : "Let us go and find Charlie Bryan. He is
crazy as a bed-bug, but he might steer us straight."
They found him in bed in a hotel. He greeted them,
first putting up his arms as though he held a gun, and began to
speak of the Arizona Rifles. The young lawyer interrupted
and explained to him his trouble in making an application of
the law to a case in point. Bryan listened and then, sitting up
in bed, said : 'The case is simple. You have become confused
in trying to make an application from some contradictory
statutes which the British Parliament has woven into the law,
to distinguish ecclesiastical from commercial corporations. But
the point you seek to establish was a fundamental factor in
the law as originally framed in old Rome, two thousand years
ago." In the meantime his eyes had become fastened on a rude

74 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
picture seen through the dim light suspended on the opposite
wall of his room, and he began to address that, as he would a
court. He explained the whole history of the laws governing
corporations as they had from time to time been expounded
and established in old Rome; linked them together until they
became a perfect system, and with a diction altogether fault
less and a courtesy and grace exquisite, exhausted the subject
and then demanded judgment. Then he ceased, dropped back
upon his -pillow and in a moment fell asleep. His awed visitors,
breathless, on tip-toe backed noiselessly from the room and
noiselessly closed the door.
It was Bryan's last address to a court — the last flash of a
glorified intellect going into final eclipse. I have often won
dered where he thought he was, before what audience he was
speaking. Was it a mental reincarnation, and was the oppos
ing counsel some stately Roman like Cicero and the court the
senate of Rome? Or was it the lord chief justice of England
that he was addressing, with the paraphernalia of England's
highest court around him ? Was it an occasion such as he had
dreamed of when first from school there were whispers from
his own soul of what he might be if he tried? Who knows?
But what a pity that when he sank to sleep that slumber had
not deepened into the final sleep, for a few months later he
died a pitiable accidental death in Carson City.
In all my life I never saw so splendid an intellect shat
tered ; never a life so filled with promise go into total eclipse.

THE OLD SAN FRANCISCO.
SOMETIMES it is a relief, or at least a rest, to turn
away from men and have a visit with nature. If it is
some spot that we love, it is not difficult to believe that
there is a subconscious affinity between us.
The first time I looked out upon San Francisco, it was
from the deck of a battered steamship that had been in a fierce
fight with winds and waves for thirty hours ; which had been
so nearly lost just inside "The Heads" that a passenger, an
old shipmaster, turned to a man beside him and in a low
voice quietly said : "This ship and these six hundred lives are
not worth a straw."
But the steamer finally righted up and limped on into port,
though the gale was so fierce in the bay that the ship could
not pull into the pier until the next day. Through that after
noon I watched the little city, and during that afternoon I built
more than one city, in imagination, on her site. I remember
that one was a new Venice, for the bay was an inland sea as
beautiful as the Adriatic, a marvelous place as it looked, for
sailing gondolas.
But a new Rome suited best, for I could look forward to
a time, not far away, when "from her throne of beauty" she
was "to rule the world."
Why should she not? Behind her was the wonderful
state, which in everyone's thought was ribbed with gold ; be
yond was "the East" from which the argosies of the Orient, in
ceaseless procession, were to come and go until the new empire
should eclipse all that had been accomplished in all the rolling
ages since man began to build his landmarks on the ocean's
shores. Though but a boy, I knew that from the first our country
had been crippled for want of money ; but now a golden stream
had started to flow through that gate of gold, and its volume
was steadily increasing — why should not ours be the richest of
all lands?

76 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
When next day we went ashore, the prospect lost some of
its charm. There were no fine structures there then; the little
old American Exchange was the fine hotel. And how was a
great city to ever grow out of those sand dunes? But even
then I stopped at a little place where a few flowers were offered
for sale, and I caught for the first time the fragrance of San
Francisco flowers. The memory of that clings to me still. I
think, with my eyes bandaged, were half a dozen boquets from
different points submitted to me I could, just by the fragrance,
select the one from San Francisco.
Among the first things to notice was the absence of old
men, but the presence of a multitude of young men, and every
state had its representatives. It was there that north and south
and east and west met, and from there started out for the con
quest of the wilderness.
Never before did any army so splendid take up its march
to drive a wilderness back ; to build the first temples to Indus
try, to Order, to Progress, to Peace. A new civilization was
to be founded, a new order, where all the narrowness, all the
provincialism, all the little envies and jealousies of the older
states were never to secure a foothold.
The most experienced and careful comers were the ones
to remain there; the alert and exultant ones sought the hills,
to turn the rivers and to leach the sands of their gold.
When, after a little, the men from the diggings came with
their dust and from the proceeds began the fashion of painting
the town red, then the "honest miner" acquired a name. He
was of a new species never seen before, and, praise God, he
has kept the species distinct and pure ever since.
The city never had a setback until, upon the killing of
James King of William, the vigilance committee sprang to life
in a night and caused it to stand still for a year and more.
As the placers began to fail the marvelous fertility of the
soil began to cause men to look forward to a time when the
gold yield might fall, but to be succeeded by a more rational
wealth. Then came the Fraser river excitement, which further
crippled the revenues from the mines, but the city continued to

THE OLD SAN FRANCISCO. 77
grow. It had become a settled fact that among all the cities of
the world not one was more superbly located, not one had
superior natural advantages around and behind it.
All this time there was another band of men gathered
there whose thoughts and lives were not disturbed by the rush
and roar, but rather their purpose was to magnify the welfare
of their fellow men. Such men as the Rev. Stebbins, the Rev.
Dr. Scott, a little later Thomas Starr King, Professor Joseph
LeConte, and others — a royal band. The learned professions
were filled with eminent men. A wonderful array of bright
writers were calling out the laughter and the tears. Lieut.
Derby — 'John Phoenix" — was making San Diego famous;
Tecumseh Sherman was in a bank in the city; over at Mare
Island, the great Farragut was listening for the call which
should give him immortality, and, later, out at Alcatraz Albert
Sidney Johnston was waiting for his summons to "glory and
the grave." At that time, too, the homes of San Francisco were the
most delightful in the world. No one was very rich, none ex
ceedingly poor, and there was a cordiality in the hospitalities
extended to guests which was something to remember always.
But when the call from the desert was heard, when the
story of the Comstock was first told, then a transformation
began. When a man made a stake his first thought was to have
a house in San Francisco. It had been the Mecca to which they
had all gravitated when they made a stake; now as many as
could, wanted a palace of his own. From the mines of the
desert a new city grew up on the site of San Francisco ; grew
and flourished. New public temples, new private mansions
grew into form and place; with them increased wealth came
and increased hospitality, and all in all the city was the most
delicious place to live in on all this world, from the opening
of the first bonanza on the Comstock to the time when the
jealous earthquake and the devouring fire came to challenge
that brave people to gird on their armor and build a new city.
It is said the new city is fairer and stronger than was the
old, and it may be, but it cannot be the same. The echoes of
the old voices have grown still. The men of affairs are new

78 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
men. The old industrial kings long ago laid down their scep
tres ; there may be new ones as gallant, and strong, and brave,
but they are for the new generation.
When the command was given for the United States to
"Forward march !" it was in San Francisco that the march
began. It was there that a new race assumed control; the
blending of all that was good in all the states, made a distinct
race there, and if it did spoil women and children, it was of
itself the best ever. It made possible a new order of man
hood ; it made the city that it built a hallowed spot, and it will
continue to be such to those who watched its first growth, as
long as they remain on this side ; and to those who anticipate a
haven of rest, in their deeper thoughts picture it as something
such as the early San Francisco was, only with fewer saloons
anad more flowers.

THE SACRAMENTO UNION.
THERE are times when the tangible work of men is made
to shine out in a form which is a splendor, though the
men lose their individual personality in performing that
work, and the work itself takes on a personality of its own.
Anthony, Morrill and Larkin, I believe, founded the Sac
ramento Union. Larkin was a trained newspaper man, and
we have heard that Anthony and Morrill were in youth com
positors, but of this we are not sure. But they awakened a voice
in California, that had tones in it which early attracted atten
tion. And that voice kept sounding on and on with ever-
increasing volume and power through all the formative years
in the life of California, until at last it became an enchantment.
I have no knowledge of any other such journal as the Sacra
mento Union between the years 1854 and 1865.
I know of no journal that had the same influence upon the
public. Most of those years were stormy years in California.
The admission of California as a free state, greatly incensed
the men of the old slave states who leaned upon John C.
Calhoun as their ideal of both high manhood and profound
statesmanship. Though the convention that framed the first
constitution of California contained a majority of southern
men, when the question of slavery or freedom for the state
came up, with but one dissenting vote, the state was conse
crated to freedom forever.
When the news of this reached Washington, and the
constitution was presented with the appeal for admission into
the Union, Mr. Calhoun led the opposition to admission with a
kind of fury. It was his last fight. He rose from what may
be called his dying bed to wage it, which gave it a pathos
that touched many southern hearts.
The question hung in the balance for several weeks. But
at last the new state was admitted, and my belief has always
been that it was then that secession was determined upon, that

80 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
preparations for it began then, and the only waiting thereafter
was for some event on which a plausible excuse could be for
mulated, on which to precipitate the crisis. And though the
constitution had been ratified by the men of the Golden State,
as a rule the "Chivalry" wing of the southern men in that
state endorsed the position of the southern leaders in the east,
and politics became stormy in California at once.
Then, too, the old Whig party was disintegrating. The
Democratic party at last was rent in twain; the extreme
southern men flocked by themselves, and of the old Whigs a
part joined the northern Democrats, while a few formed a
nucleus of a California Republican party corresponding with
the Republican party that had been launched in the east.
In the meantime, the Sacramento Union had drawn to it
the enthusiastic support and affection of all northern California.
It was an independent journal and discussed all questions with
perfect candor and without fear. In the early fifties there
were many camps in California so high in the Sierras that they
were only reached by trails, and in others the roads were
blocked for several months each winter by snow. To these
only the express companies carried communications — often in
winter on snow shoes. They charged 25 cents to deliver a
newspaper. Often and often in many a one of those camps
when the express arrived, all that was brought was a package
of letters and a great roll of Sacramento Unions. The miners
called the paper their bible. That hold the paper never lost,
up to the closing of the Civil war.
It was conducted with a judgment and ability which no
other journal in the state could command, and then there was
a charm about it which drew men irresistibly to it. It was
always optimistic about California ; while glorying in the pres
ent it was always pointing to the higher destiny which it must
attain and all the time it was as broad as the Republic itself,
while it met every local question, commercial, social, or polit
ical, with the directness of intuition and the full grace of
inspiration. During the two or three stormy years preceding
the outbreak of the rebellion, it was most masterful in shaping
public opinion, and when the war burst upon the country, "one

THE SACRAMENTO UNION. 81
blast upon that bugle horn was worth a thousand men" every
morning. At that time, a gentleman named Watson was the editor-
in-chief. I never saw him, but was told at the time that he
possessed an almost supernatural intellect, but was a slave to
strong drink. However that may be, there were no such edi
torials as his published in any paper, east or west. As the war
clouds grew darker and darker, those editorials grew more
commanding and incisive every morning and at the same time
there was a beauty about them that kindled in men's hearts
and souls a zealous patriotism not to be measured. I do not
know that the paper held California in the Union, but I am sure
that had there been such a journal on the other side, it would
have carried the state out, or at least made of it a battle ground
drat would have left it as badly scarred as was Virginia.
The men who conducted the paper were never known to
thousands of its readers, but the journal itself became a dis
tinct personality to them ; they thought of it as something with
a mind all masterful, with a voice which to them was sweeter
than a woman's.
When the war was over, it took up the works of peace.
It had for years been the advocate of the transcontinental rail
road, and with the close of the war it renewed its labors for
that enterprise and was a marvelous help to its projectors and
builders. But when the road made the connection with the Union
Pacific at Promontory in 1869, and the policy of its builders
became fully understood, the Union called a halt upon them.
It had given all its support to Leland Stanford when he
was a candidate for governor and through his administra
tion ; it had given the great enterprise its masterful support, but
when its owners and managers began to use it as merely an
instrument for their own aggrandizement, and worse, when
they entered politics and dictated who should and who should
not hold the offices, the Union turned upon them with a vehem
ence that they could not endure. The company established a
paper modeled exactly after the Union in size, type, paper and
make-up, engaged brilliant men to conduct it, and closed their

82 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
cars against the Union. In the meantime, the company had
built the inside road to Los Angeles and San Diego and branch
roads in every direction. It forbade the paper on the cars,
closed every possible avenue against the. great journal and
finally reduced it below the paying point and forced the owners
to sell for a pittance, when it was merged with the railroad
paper and became the Record-Union.
Its death was simply the result of a hired and premedi
tated assassination and it was killed by the money and power
it had so ably aided the railroad owners to accumulate.
But the cowardly methods by which its death was com
passed, can never take from it the splendor of the fame which
it created for itself. It was more to California for fifteen years
after the admission of the state into the Union than any other
single agency ; California never realized how much it owed to
it, and never can make good that debt. But the graves of the
old owners and editors of it should be hallowed ground in the
Golden State, and be marked in such a way that Cahfornians
to the last generation should be taught to revere it.
And could all the journalism in any state be modeled
after the Sacramento Union as it was from 1856 to 1865, there
would be no question of what the ruling power in that state
would be. It would be the mouthpiece of the people; their
reliance, they would know that it was not controlled by any
commercial considerations; no selfish ambition; that a just
cause would always find in it a champion; that all the gold
that could be offered could never induce it to further an unjust
scheme or dishonest measure; that while working for a live
lihood it was at the same time working for everything of good
and against everything of evil, and that the people's weal and
the state's progress were ever uppermost in its thought, and
so the people's hearts would be enlisted, and it would become
to them both a protector and an inspiration.

NEWTON BOOTH.
WHEN California was filled with great men, there was
a merchant in Sacramento who for a time was not
heeded among his fellow men as aught but one of
the class of merchant princes of which there were many in the
state, and of which Sacramento contained a full quota.
But there came a time when the people were unusually
interested in a question and one night at a public meeting this
merchant arose and made a brief address. It was published
the next day in the papers and then it suddenly dawned upon
thousands that a scholar and marvelous thinker had been found.
That was Newton Booth. A man above the average size, fair
complexion, brown hair and blue eyes, as we recall him. Then
he began to be called for oftener and oftener and was soon a
factor in public life. AVhen the Republican party was launched
in California he was one of the prominent sponsors. He was
as eloquent as he was profound.
When the project of building a transcontinental railroad
was launched in earnest, he was its ablest supporter, and the
work he did in its behalf was altogether magnificent.
That the old Central Pacific company was able to obtain
a great subsidy from Sacramento and Eldorado counties and
San Francisco was more due to Newton Booth than any other
one man. Next to Colonel Baker, he was the most powerful expo
nent of Republican party principles among the orators of the
state. But he relied wholly upon argument. He could bring
none of the magnetism of Baker to the work ; none of the light
ning flashes of that inspired soul, but he talked merely as an
earnest American.
After awhile he was nominated for governor and cam
paigned the state. His speeches were classics of their kind.
He stood for Americanism in its highest sense, and for the
equal rights and equal opportunities of every American citizen.
He was triumphantly elected and for four years held the

84 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
high office with signal ability, until his name became a syn
onym for perfect integrity and for absolute justice under
the law. In the election of United States senators there had been
combinations, deals, and no end of stock-jobbing.
When Booth was appealed to as the logical candidate for
the place and urged to run for the office, his reply was : "It is
an exalted office, it is as it was in old Rome when to be a sen
ator was greater than to be a king, but, gentlemen, if the office
in California is to cost one unworthy promise or implied prom
ise, or one tainted dollar, count me out in the very inception.
If a majority of the legislature of California should, of their
free will, unbiased and untrammeled, decide to bestow the
honor of that office upon me, I should appreciate it as no man
ever did before, but on no other terms would I accept it, for if
I ever go to Washington as a senator I must take my full self-
respect with me, and must have the full approval of my own
conscience. He was triumphantly elected, and mingled with the good
byes when he went away were a thousand expressions that
"next time we will send you as president."
But that was practically the end. He made no mark in the
senate. Where so much was expected, nothing was realized.
We cannot recall one act or speech of his in the senate worth
recital. It was worse than Senator Nye's account of the first speech
of Senator Casserly of California. As Nye told it, whenCasserly
was elected, the senators gathered around him and asked who
this Casserly of California was whom the legislature of that
state had elected senator, Nye told them that he was a graduate
of the University of Dublin, that then in the most rigid schools
he had graduated as a lawyer; that he had enjoyed a great
practice for years in his profession in San Francisco, was a
most profound scholar and renowned lawyer, and his coming
would be a distinct addition to the senate.
What follows is in Nye's own words as nearly as we can
recall them :
"He came on to Washington and took his seat. After a

NEWTON BOOTH. 85
few days, before he got his sea legs under him at all, some petty
question was sprung upon the senate, a question that no one,
no matter how gifted, could make a speech on when, to my
surprise, the new senator rose to his feet. The president of
the senate at once recognized him and he began to speak. Fie
could not say anything ; no one could on such a theme, but he
stumbled along, and I was searching the marble floor for a
knot-hole to fall through. An inch hole would have been big
enough. Finally I looked up and Thurman of Ohio, in wiping
his face waved his red bandana toward me, and I followed him
out to a cloak room. Arrived there, Thurman said : "Jim,
have you any letters patent about your clothes to prove that
you are not a d — d old fool ?' And I announced humbly, 'Not
a letter. Not a letter, Allen.' "
When his term was out Booth returned to his business in
Sacramento, but a great silence closed around him.
After awhile it was told that he was ill of an incurable
malady, and a little later he died. We never heard any close
friend of his try to account for the swift change that came
upon him. We never heard of a parallel case. He was the
same to all outward appearances; in conversation he was the
same ; there was no hint that his brain was giving way ; there
was no sign that any great disappointment or anything like a
heart wound had come to him ; but the essence of life had gone
out. He had simply quit. It must have been that the insidious
disease of which he died, had in its first stages paralyzed either
his courage or his mental energies, but whatever it was, he died
long before he ceased to breathe.
To show his style, we give the closing paragraph of one of
his political speeches, as follows :
"What is our country? It is not the land and the sea, the
river and the mountain, the people, their history and laws. It
is something more than all of these. It is a bright ideal, a
living presence in the heart, whose destruction would rob the
earth of beauty, the stars of their glory, the sun of its bright
ness, life of its sweetness, love and joy. My countrymen, cher
ish this ideal. It will exalt you as you exalt it. Make it your
cloud by day, your pillar of fire by night.

J. E. "LUCKY" BALDWIN.
NO ONE has ever yet given a clear idea of "Lucky"
Baldwin. Who can? Tall, and strong, and swarthy,
his eyes sometimes blazing like a fiery Spaniard's,
sometimes deep and sullen as a Pottawattamie ; not much faith
in the average man, looking on most women as schemers —
he must have been the child of parents who cared little for each
other and to whom his birth brought little joy. Still there was
plenty of red blood in his veins and a rude integrity and fierce
pride gave him the respect of business men. Moreover, there
was a strata of generosity in him which, as is often seen in
some mineral formations, was prone to crop out in real gold
in unexpected places.
He reached California early in the fifties, with little save
his hands and his brains, but that did not disturb him, for he
possessed a dauntless courage. Moreover, he had no false
pride; he was ready to engage in any work which was
honorable, and he believed that with his capacity and industry
he could forge out for himself a place among men.
He made a stake by contracting in San Francisco; then
lost most of it. How, no one seemed to know, but all- agree
that when the Comstock was found, he had little. He went
there early, and his subsequent career for fifteen years is a
pretty good indication that he had been a chance-taker in every
thing that came along, from lottery tickets to mining shares.
He had been in Virginia City but a brief time when he
began nibbling at stocks, then to plunging in them.
But he was harder student than he had ever been before
and he knew the Comstock as he did his alphabet, from the
Sierra Nevada to the Justice.
He steadily made money and steadily invested it where
he believed that his dollars would multiply fast. He had large
interests on the Comstock and in California and finally ob
tained the control of the Ophir.
In some way he had about $40,000 in a Los Angeles bank.

J. E. "LUCKY" BALDWIN. 87
It was said he loaned it to a friend and had no security save a
mortgage on a wild tract of 22,000 acres of land some few-
miles from Los Angeles. He was obliged to take the land at
last for the debt, when it could not have been sold for fifty
cents an acre.
But that ranch gave him the title of "Lucky" Baldwin,
for a railroad crept down there at last, then another, and south
ern California began to boom and the Santa Anita ranch
became a principality.
I met him once in San Francisco and he did me the honor
to ask me to "come down and spend a month on the ranch."
Continuing, he said, "There's a lot of horses, steppers and
flyers, saddles and buggies, cattle, sheep, fruits and flowers of
all kinds, enough to keep you enjoying yourself for a month or
six weeks." Then I asked him what he raised on his ranch, and his
reply was : "Every blamed thing in the world, except the mort
gages." This was in the early eighties, after the place had become
famous. He left the Comstock in the late sixties to make his home
in San Francisco — to mine the Comstock — from the other
end — on the stock board.
In the early seventies Mr. Sharon wanted the Ophir in
his business and his battle with Baldwin for the control was
a battle royal, and Sharon won.
Baldwin's financial weapon was an old-fashioned musket,
Sharon's a rapid-fire magazine gun ; but in addition Sharon had
much the heavier reserves.
The Ophir 's proximity to the California and the indica
tions of a bonanza in the latter was the impelling force which
made both men fight, for the control.
It was no wonder either: a few months later California
advanced from $35 per share to a figure which was equivalent
to $12,000 per inch for the whole length of the mine.
In those clays Baldwin accumulated a great fortune, built
the Baldwin Hotel and theatre and gathered in property in
half a dozen states and trritories.

88 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
He stocked the Santa Anita ranch with blood horses,
the very finest that could be found by scouring the world for
them. His ambition was to have finer and fleeter race horses
than any other man.
It was, too, a labor of love with him, for he revealed
more affection for some of those animals than he had ever
shown for anything else in his life. His friends declare that
when the finest one of them all died, Baldwin's heart was
broken, and he never had a well day afterward.
When a great fortune came to him, many an adventuress
sought his acquaintance. He knew their object; he was
restrained by no sense of propriety, no regard for public
opinion, no chivalrous regard for womanhood, and it was not
long until he took the blackguard's idea that "every woman
had her price."
He was the only man that we ever heard of who plead
in answer to a complaint filed against him, that his public
reputation was such that every woman who came near him
must have been warned against him in advance.
Though destitute of sensibility and callous against criti
cism, the poison of the reputation he made for himself in that
regard, at last penetrated his mind and his bitterness and
smothered wrath against the world and himself gave a sombre
shadow to his last days, which was a reminder of a wounded
lion, his confident roar hushed forever, going limping to his lair
to growl and die.
But "Lucky" Baldwin had a wonderful brain, immense
sagacity and solid judgment ; he could grasp a business propo
sition instantly and by an intuition all his own trace from a
cause to an inevitable effect with lightning swiftness; while
on the other hand he grasped with equal celerity a pure gam
ble and wagered what the chances were to win.
And he was ready for either proposition at all times.
He was, moreover, a most shrewd judge of character.
He could describe in three sentences either of the strong
men around him in those tremendous days of speculation when
the arena was filled with giants and every one was a trained
financial gladiator.

J. E. "LUCKY" BALDWIN. 89
In his methods he was more like Jim Keene than any of
the others; he could neither be frightened nor bullied; he as a
rule held his gambling instinct in leash by his steady judgment,
but when he did gamble in earnest, no chance was desperate
enough to make him shrink from taking it.
It is idle to say what, under gentler influence and different
associations and conditions, he might have been, for no one
can tell. As it was, he, with no discipline in his youth, with no
great moral principles to hold him in restraint, was tossed upon
the west coast just when a new epoch was to usher in the metal
lic age, when the age of scholarship and statesmanship and con
servative business methods were to be subordinated to money,
and men's respectability and power were to be estimated by
their bank accounts, and the place which has to be his field was
that winsome city by the Gate of Gold, where restraints were
few, where the very air was a tonic to eager men's brains and
extravagance in thought and act was the rule.
It was there that he was tossed, there with his quick
brain, his tireless energy, his splendid courage, his impatience
of all restraint, and his absence of all moral restrictions except
his rude integrity in business matters.
And he gloried in the work. His great love for blood
horses, we suspect, was because in a race they would go to the
last limit of their strength to win, and we doubt not that as he
watched them he was crooning to himself : "That is likeRequa's
fight for the Norcross ; like Johnnie Skae's wrestle with the
Sierra Nevada; like Sharon's first fight to stand off D. O.
Mills, when he wanted the bank to desert the Comstock," so
through his horses he could live over again his feverish career.
Still it all passed in a few brief years, and there is nothing
left him but a lonely grave, and one looking upon it and think
ing what the occupant might have been and clone with his
opportunities and gifts, cannot shake off the thought that the
Angel of Pity comes to it and sheds tears upon it every day.

"JIM" GILLIS.
A FORTY-NINER was Jim — one of the typical ones.
From Mississippi, I believe; a brother of our Stevie
Gillis of the Enterprise, in Virginia City. Stevie was
younger and came to the coast later. Stevie's first venture
was to go from San Francisco to Oregon, about 1858, with
Long Primer Hall, and start a secession newspaper. I believe
only one edition was published. How Stevie got back to San
Francisco I never learned. I asked him once how long his
paper lasted. His reply was : "Not very long, but at one time
I thought it was liable to outlast me." On returning to San
Francisco and, dressed in his best, he went a few days later to
the polls to vote. There was no registration in those days.
Almost everybody voted. But on this occasion a big fel
low, a Democrat, challenged his vote. Stevie was a little man,
his opponent a big one, but the trouble began at once. Instead
of stopping the battle, the crowd gathered around the two and
began to make wagers on the outcome. Stevie walked home,
but did not appear for three or four days. His opponent was
carried home and was in retirement for two weeks. When
Stevie did appear he came out an intense Republican.
I asked him what caused the change in his political views,
reminding him that the man had a perfect right to challenge
him. "Why, the blankety blank blank drove a scavenger
wagon, and I would no longer belong to a party that employed
such an agent," was his reply.
Well, Jim was Stevie's elder brother. When he reached
California he went prospecting, and early in the fifties found
a placer mine up in Tuolumne country, and bought or pre
empted a cabin that had been built in '49. I said cabin, but it
was really a house, or it was when I saw it I suspect that
Gillis had made one end of the original '49 cabin a home sta
tion and extended it.
It was a typical '49 house, a board house, set on upright
posts, which raised it some twelve inches above the ground.

"JIM" GILLIS. 91
I spent a couple of days and nights in it in the early
eighties, and it was well preserved ; the rooms most ingeniously
arranged and well furnished.
I carried a letter from Stevie and was cordially welcomed
by Jim. A few minutes later two or three fine dogs came in
and introduced themselves and seemed to be trying to convince
me that they were glad I had come.
A little later there was a great commotion under the
house, and Gillis explained that his dogs and rabbits were
having their usual romp before retiring for the night.
I asked him if the dogs and rabbits were on friendly terms
and he answered, "Oh, yes; they grew up together and have
been running mates all their lives."
Of course, the placer had been worked out early, but in
the meantime Gillis had found a quartz mine near and had
been working it in a primitive way several years when I visited
him. It was what miners call a pockety mine, little bodies of ore
interspersed in other bodies that were valueless. When a body
of ore was found Gillis was in bonanza and picked up some
times a few hundred, sometimes a few thousand dollars rapidly.
About once a year he went to San Francisco on a visit ; as
he said, "to see the fashions and buy some more books." He
had many a rare volume; read them all and knew their sub
stance and was bold enough to dispute any proposition that
he found in them where he thought the author had failed in
either principle, consistency or logic.
And he had a way of excusing the authors, explaining
that when they wrote they had thought out only half their
theme. This was intensely interesting, for while talking he
seemed unconscious of the fact that he unwittingly was giving
away the other fact that he had explored the same theme to
its source. After dinner on that first day he asked me to go with him
to see his garden.
He had fenced off about three acres under a big spring
and planted a garden.

92 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
He had a few vegetables, a good deal of fruit and a world
of flowers. Along the line of one fence he had planted a great
variety of berries, and the bushes were, perhaps, five feet in
height. Suddenly he stopped in his walk and asked me if I had
ever seen a mountain quail on her nest.
I replied that I had not, and that I had always understood
they were untamable. "Oh," said he; "they don't care any
thing about me." With that he went to a near-by shrub,
parted the branches with both hands and there, not a foot from
his hands, not sixteen inches from his face, a mother quail
sat serenely on her nest, looking confidently up into his face,
without one symptom of fear.
A beautiful Gordon setter dog squatted beside him, look
ing on placidly, showing that he understood that the quail was
one of the family and must not be disturbed.
The cabin was in the big pines, the mountains rose like
temples in the background and far away to the east, across the
range, the setting sun was turning to purple the crest of Mount
Bodie. I did not ask him if he was ever lonely, for I knew that
he was not. He had his books, his daily papers, his dogs, his
rabbits, his birds and his flowers; his mine, which he worked
a little daily, and the murmur of the breeze in the big pines to
go to sleep by.
There was nothing of the hermit's exclusiveness about
the place. There were no locks on the doors or the cupboard,
all passers-by were welcome and moreover, he was an author
ity in that region.. People brought their troubles and differ
ences to him for advice or adjustment and there were no ap
peals from his decisions.
Then, too, though living there alone, he was fully abreast
of all current events, as given day by day through the news
papers, and would drop shrewd remarks as he discussed them.
If there was a trace of bitterness or prejudice in his soul, he
kept it hid.
On the first night we sat up late discussing all manner of
subjects. The conversation finally turned to the writers on

"JIM" GILLIS. 93
the coast and to those who had made good. I mentioned the
name of Bret Harte, when Gillis said: "Bret Harte is an un
pleasant memory to me. He came here once, ragged and hun
gry, and with that despair upon him which often attends upon
genius when every door seems closed and there is no practical
talent to forge out an independent path. He remained here
a week, and when he was leaving I gave him $50 and told him
that the mountains offered him nothing — to go to San Fran
cisco and try, that he could forge out a place for himself
among the newspapers.
"Some months later I went to San Francisco. In the
meantime Harte had become famous, was at the head of a
prosperous journal and praise of his genius was heard every
where. "I was sincerely glad and went to his office to congratulate
him. He received me very stiffly and coldly and showed very
plainly that he was bored by my presence. I was not dressed
like a bridegroom and my hands had not been manicured
that day. "I retired in as good order as I could and all that night
was thinking what a deuce of a fraud this old world is.
"But next day I went back to the newspaper office, walked
straight into the presence of Harte and said to him, "I would
like that fifty dollars which you got from me, Mr. Harte."
"He touched a bell, a messenger came, to whom he said,
'Please tell Mr.  to send me a check for fifty dollars. The
messenger soon returned and handed him the check. He en
dorsed it and handed it to me. I took it and said, "Don't mis
understand me, Mr. Harte ; I was glad to give you that money.
I have been glad every time I have thought of it since, think
ing that it was a real favor to you. I did not loan it to you.
I gave it to you, marking it off my books. I have rejoiced to
hear of your success since, and came here yesterday for no
purpose except to congratulate you. Your reception changed
my mind in some respects.
"Before I fell asleep last night my soul was saying to me :
'Gillis, is it true that you permitted a dirty scrub to get the

94 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
best of you ?' That is why I came back this morning. AVe are
even now. Good morning, sir."
The Cabin of Gillis was three miles from Tuttletown. To
catch the stage one had to be there at 6 a. m.
I wanted to go the previous evening, but Gillis said there
were no hotels worth the name, that he would wake me in time
in the morning. So at 3 :30 a. m. I was up, had breakfast and
was ready to start. Gillis put on his hat and said: "The
woods are full of trails. You might take a wrong one, besides
I want my mail. I will show you the way."
It was in the late summer and there was no light but the
stars, as we took the trail. Gillis strode on in advance on the
trail, talking pleasantly until a flash of light shot upward in
the east, the first light of the dawn and a bird off through the
mighty forest sounded her call.
Gillis forgot me in a moment, and answered the bird's
good morning with a cheery response, calling the singer by
name and praising her for being the first bird to awake.
An instant later from another direction came the second
hail from an awakening bird, and Gillis responded, calling her
by name, then the calls came oftener and oftener and Gillis
named each one, praising some, chiding others, calling others
hypocrites for pretending to be early birds. He upbraided the
lark for the false reputation she claimed as the first to hail
the dawn; cautioned the mourning dove not to take so sad a
view of things considering who her mate was, called the owl,
the burglar of the woods going home with his mournful "too
who," as though he had merely been out visiting friends, when
in truth he had been raiding the woods for field mice all night.
All this went on until the stars melted away, the shad
ows fled from the deep woods, the full dawn turned the forest
to emerald and gold and the air was resonant with music from
the full orchestra of the birds.
Poor Jim, he has passed on, but if in Summer land there
are no birds, no flowers, no music, there is one spirit there sor
rowing that it cannot get back to the old cabin in Tuolumne
county, where the air is soft, where the flowers bloom and
the birds sing all the day long.

B

WILLIAM LENT.
Y William Lent, I mean the man that every old miner
in Nevada knew as "Uncle Billie Lent." He was an
argonaut and soon after reaching San Francisco became
a wholesale merchant on Front street in that city. He was
a shrewd merchant and made money. But in those days he
could not tie himself down to the daily round of a merchant's
life. When a ship sailed from New York, or Boston, or Phil
adelphia, or any other Atlantic or Gulf coast, for San Fran
cisco a copy of her manifest was mailed to San Francisco.
These were published in San Francisco and also the houses to
which they were consigned.
Then the merchants and brokers would buy or sell these
cargoes to arrive; would buy or sell long or short according
to the stock on hand of the same articles in San Francisco, and
according to the respective ships on which the cargoes were
coming, for they knew the reputation of the different ships, as
fast or slow sailors, and when a new ship sailed, from the
descriptions given of them by the eastern papers, they would
make wagers on the time of its arrival.
In those days for a long time a new clipper came every
month or two, and each was a greater marvel than its prede
cessor. There was great excitement when the Sovereign of the
Seas came in, for there had never been quite so grand a ship as
she ever built before. She made the voyage from New York
in ninety-seven days, and the freight paid on her first cargo
returned to her owners the full cost of the ship.
The Flying Cloud was another wonder. She made her
first voyage in eighty-nine days. But she was favored. When
reaching Cape Horn, instead of meeting the fierce western
winds that held many a ship off the Horn for six weeks, she
caught a gale from the east and her daring commander
crowded on all sail and made 374 miles in twenty-four hours.
Mrs. Cressy, the commander's wife, was on board and
told a friend on reaching San Francisco that on that day the

96 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
cabin was dark half the time because of the seas pouring over
the ship, and at times was dark so long that she thought it
would never be light any more for those on the ship.
The Trade Wind was another of those wonderful ships.
She struck something after rounding the Horn that stopped the
ship dead still for a moment. A moment later a whale, cut
half in two, appeared for a moment on the surface of the
sea and reddened all the water around with blood.
When the ship was docked in San Francisco bay it was
found that all the copper from bow to keel had been torn off.
The most beautiful of all those clippers, and one of the
fleetest, was the Flying Fish. But there were scores of them.
It requires a good many ships to carry all the supplies needed
by 300,000 people, when the voyages are 13,000 miles long.
Those were the days when our merchant marine was the
pride of the seas : when our ships were the fairest and fleetest
that had ever been seen, and when their tonnage exceeded that
of any other nation, not excepting Great Britain.
When the Crimean war came, Great Britain chartered one
of those clippers — the Great Republic — to carry men, horses
and war munitions to Constantinople. Loaded at Plymouth
with a regiment of men, five hundred horses, and a thousand
tons of freight, the ship started from Plymouth, England,
with a steam cruiser to convoy her. When outside the harbor
she put on sail. The cruiser had to signal her to slow clown : it
could not take her pace.
Uncle Billie Lent found plenty of excitement, in keeping
tabs on the stocks of goods on hand, on the average monthly
sales, and on the cargoes to arrive, and he turned many a penny
to his own advantage by being shrewder or more lucky than
his neighbors. There were plenty of others doing the same. Ordinary
California houses in those days, instead of being plastered, were
lined with canvas, which was held in place by tacks. One genius
saw by looking at the manifests of ships to arrive that there
would be no more tacks reach San Francisco for five or six
months. He bought all there were on hand and made a little
fortune. That he was being anathematized all over California

WILLIAM LENT. 97
wherever a cloth ceiling or partition was being tacked up did
not disturb his rest at all.
When the Comstock was discovered and shares appeared
on sale, Uncle Billie Lent was ready to take on some new
degrees. He was a soft-voiced, kindly man, made friends every
where and, moreover, in business was dead honest, and his
word was everywhere accepted as a certified check.
He had a thousand generous ways. If he rode on the
stage from Placerville or Dutch Flat to Virginia City, on get
ting down from the stage he would by siealth pass up a twenty-
dollar piece to the driver.
He would touch a friend on the shoulder and say : "Ophir
is looking pretty well ; I put aside fifty shares at thirty dollars
for you this morning. AVhen it touches forty I believe you
had better sell."
Result: he always had his choice of seats on the stage.
When the rush was great and some passengers had to book
ahead, Uncle Billie could always get a seat. It would have
been a poor agent or driver who would not have made an
affidavit, if necessary, that Uncle Billie had engaged the seat
for that day a week before. And if any stirring man who
kept his finger on the pulse of the market and on the condi
tions of the lower levels in the mines got what he thought was
a pointer, he carried it to Uncle Billie.
He wrestled with the sharp dealers on the Comstock and
in San Francisco and was able to say as the dying Californian
did to his wife : "Tell the boys that I think I has bested as many
as has bested me;" for despite the soft voice and the genial,
generous ways of Uncle Billie, he was as shrewd as the very
sharpest of them.
He and George Hearst were associated for a time, but
that was before Hearst made his alliance with Haggin and
Tevis and he had not money enough to work in the same team
with Uncle Billie.
Mr. Lent dealt constantly in Comstock stocks for ten
years, and as before he wagered on the speed and cargoes of

98 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
clipper ships, so he every day, so to speak, took the sun of the
Comstock as the mariner does the noonday sun at sea.
He knew all the mines and all the managers. When
some of the managers made a statement of conditions he
wagered that it was true, when a few others made statements
of what was and what must be in the immediate future, he
unloaded all the stocks he had in the company and sold short
as many more.
When Mineral Hill had been opened a certain depth and
halted for want' of funds to procure machinery, on the advice
of Joe Farren he put his shoulder to the company and helped
the owners through, taking his fair commission, of course.
Mineral Hill was a porphyry vein in granite, and to those who
understood the formation, it was always safe to estimate its
value down to the lowest point that the porphyry was explored,
the belief being that at any time the underlying rock would
mark the depth of the porphyry and the ore body. But the
porphyry held good for 1200 feet in depth and yielded several
millions of dollars.
When Buel and Bateman obtained their option on Eureka
Con. at Eureka, Farren joined with them, and Uncle Billie
backed Buel and Bateman, and the result was a splendid
success. But Uncle Billie's greatest triumph was at Bodie, south
of Carson, but on the east side of the Sierras in California. He
opened and equipped a mine there which for three or four years
was more like a mint than a mine. No one except Mr. Lent's
heirs knows how much money he made there, but it was a
vast fortune.
He must have been close upon eighty years of age at the
time, but "age had not withered him nor custom staled" his
genial nature, his shrewdness, or his tireless energy.
Most of the bonanza kings had many enemies. It is a
habit of mankind, when they see a fellow man accumulate a
great fortune, no matter how fairly, to brood over it, and
many grow to believe that if the world's gifts had been fairly
divided, no one man could have gathered to himself so much
treasure.

WILLIAM LENT. 99
I never heard of any one who had that feeling toward
Mr. Lent. When a man is called Billie Lent in his youth,
Uncle Billie Lent in middle age, and old Uncle Billie in his old
age, those are all indications that he has the love near him and
the admiration and kindly thoughts of thousands who never
clasped his hand.
So while Uncle Billie was as sharp as the sharpest, while
in business he never asked any odds of any one ; he managed
to hold his own; to line his path with charities, to say gen
erous and hopeful words to those less successful than himself;
to draw to him in splendid loyalty such men as he needed to
work out his enterprises, and if he had any enemies I never
heard of them.
This was because he was always manly and frank and
candid; he had no false pride; every man met him on equal
terms — a pair of overalls was as fine as a dress suit with him
if the right man was inside the overalls.
He died in San Francisco many years ago away past the
eighties, but he is still affectionately remembered there.
My thought is if where he is he is as he was when
riding on the coaches here — he has the choice of seats, and if
he had his pick of places, there is a phantom ocean bearing
ghostly ships into their haven, and spectral mountains in the
backgrou'nd that contain celestial ores,- and that he divides his
eternity making wagers of what ghostly ship is nearing the
offing, and counting on the news that the next ethereal aero
plane will bring down from the mines.
In the meanwhile all the neighboring ghosts are wont to
gather near to hear his ghost tell of the lively times he had on
the Comstock and how, in his old age, he scooped all the young
men when he took in the mine at Bodie.

TOD ROBINSON.
HE WAS not just like any of the others of the Argo
nauts. A matured man when he reached the west
coast; a fine scholar, an eminent lawyer, an orator
most careful in his selection of language, always in a public
address to adjust himself to his audience ; at home talking to
a company of farmers, though he had but vague ideas of a
farmer's life, but leaving an impression upon his hearers that
a great farmer was spoiled when he became a lawyer; most
intense in his sectional prejudices, but veiling them all in his
dealings with men ; imperious in his self-consciousness, but in
his life meeting all men as though, to him, they were all on
the same plane, he managed to draw to him the confidence and
generally the affection of all persons brought in contact with
him. I never could explain his motives to my own satisfaction,
but I presume that his thought was much the same as that of
the great Blucher of Prussia. He had a theory that there were
only two kinds of men in the world, those whom we might
call thoroughbreds and those who might be rated under the
general term of mustangs ; that the first were entitled to all
courtesies because of the blood in their veins, no matter what
might be their personal foibles ; the others as not worth dis
cussing pedigrees with. He was a distinguished lawyer in
California, up in the front rank with Baker, Randolph, Felton,
McAllister and the rest, and he maintained his place when the
magnitude of the fees and the tremendous importance of the
issues to be decided drew that shining galaxy of legal talent
to the Comstock in the first four years .of the life of the great
lode. Then he was a most interesting speaker on any theme,
though with him a speech was always a serious matter. He
seldom attempted to mingle the least humor in a public speech,
rarely permitting his imagination any play in rounding a
period, or illuminating a sentence. He depended upon the cold

TOD ROBINSON. 101
logic of truth to point his argument and the perfect logical
rhythm of his thoughts to kindle men's admiration. Naturally
he was most effective in the court-room, one of the class that
judges lean upon, for he never juggled with a legal principle
and never misstated a legal proposition.
In private he was most winsome, and had a happy faculty
of asking a few questions of a man that left an impression
upon the man that he was solicitous about him and his.
He had mingled much with the world and was a shrewd
judge of men and knew from what point to approach each one.
Inherently he was a lover of justice, and that the right should
prevail, and could have outlined what society would be when
men had lost all their weaknesses, and all were striving toward
a clearer and softer light, perhaps with as much vividness as
Starr King himself.
But, after all, not one in a hundred of his close friends
ever understood the ruling trait of his life, so carefully did he
veil it. He was at heart a sublime egotist. I have read of a few
such men, but he was the only one I ever knew, personally.
A friend said to him one day : "Judge, I came up from
Carson today. I was talking with Chief Justice Bronson of the
Supreme Court last evening and he said to me : "Do you know
that the argument delivered yesterday before the court by Tod
Robinson was the most profound and convincing legal argu
ment I ever listened to?"
AVith an air of perfect conviction and candor, Robinson
simply replied: "It was."
Does not that remind one of what William Pinkney said
of the great Samuel Dexter, the marvelous Massachusetts
lawyer ?
Dexter was one day replying in the Supreme Court to
Rush when Rush, turning to Pinkney, said : "That is a very
able argument," when Pinkney simply responded : "Wait till
you hear me."
But egotism has been a trait in many a great mind. The
Earl of Normandy made a speech in parliament which the
Edinburg Reviezv praised highly, whereupon Brougham wrote

102 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
the editor of the Reviezv, saying : "The speech was very good,
only that it should have been less praised," adding : "He is an
excellent fellow, and deserves great credit; but, truth to tell,
his speech was a failure — so much so that I was forced to bear
down to his assistance."
But Mr. Robinson's self-esteem seemed to be unconscious.
It was like that of Daniel AVebster, who never seemed conscious
of anything like vanity, but who one day attacked a legal prop
osition of an opponent at the bar, and was reminded that he
was assailing a dictum of Lord Camden. He simply turned to
the court and delivered a wonderful eulogy upon Lord Cam
den's greatness as a jurist, which electrified the court and bar,
but then, in his profound way, added : "But, may it please
your honor, I differ from Lord Camden." Even Thomas Jef
ferson possessed that trait; John Adams had it stronger than
Jefferson, while with John Quincy Adams it was almost a
disease, and if we go further back, the Apostle Paul could
have held his own with old Tom Benton himself.
If Tod Robinson was conscious of any such trait, it never
appeared in his public utterances, either at the bar or on the
rostrum. He always talked to his theme and never forgot for
a moment that it was the theme and not himself that the court,
or the jury, or the audience desired to have elucidated.
And while he was fierce and bitter in his political views,
by inheritance and training, he was a fervent apostle of order
and law. The vigilance committee of 1856, he was furious
over, declaring that the committee was taking advantage of
their own wrong ; that had they not shirked their duties as cit
izens of a free country, as voters and jurors, the trouble would
never have been forced upon the city of San Francisco to its
disgrace and the disgrace of the Golden State.
Fie was not like Mount Shasta, springing from the valley,
thus making his summit seem higher than it really was, but
more like Mount Whitney, which rising amid surrounding
peaks, is dwarfed a little by those peaks until tested by a per
fect instrument which reveals its sovereign majesty.

W. C. RALSTON.
TO ONE who has any soul, who knew him well, the men
tion of the name of W. C. Ralston brings a sense of
sorrow. From the early days until he died he was more
to San Francisco than any other man.
He had a masterful brain, an unquenchable public spirit.
Had he been Aladdin he would have covered the sand hills of
San Francisco with palaces and the sea outside with regal
ships. Not being an Aladdin, he seemed determined to rival
him so far as human genius and energy could.
When I saw him first he was the agent of a steamship
company in Panama. It was in the early fifties. He soon out
grew those surroundings and came to San Francisco. The air
of the Golden Coast was elixir to him. He attracted only local
notice until, through his ability and energy, he founded the
Bank of California.
The late D. O. Mills had made a little fortune buying gold
dust in southern California — at San Andreas, I believe — then
had established a bank at Sacramento, and bore a high name as
a shrewd, capable, careful and honest banker. To give the new
bank strength Ralston had his associates invite him to the pres
idency of the California bank; Ralston to be the immediate
local manager. The bank soon obtained the absolute confi
dence of Cahfornians, and swiftly grew into a great financial
institution. It had the best of the local patronage, and through
it the Oriental and Australian business was transacted.
Through Ralston many new industries sprang up in San
Francisco ; through him, in the early sixties, Mr. Sharon was
able to establish the Branch Bank of California in Virginia
City, Nevada, and through him was able to maintain it there
when D. O. Mills insisted that it should be closed, as he did not
approve of Sharon's management.
A little later the great lode began to vindicate Sharon's
judgment, and within ten years had made Mr. Mills more

104 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
money than he had ever dreamed of possessing. Indeed, it
made the whole coast dizzy. Its effect upon W. C. Ralston
quickened his old desire for a great city on San Francisco bay
into a passion. He bought realty, opened new streets, built
new structures, and plunged deeper than a banker, who is cus
todian of others people's money, ever should.
Then he had another habit. If a man presented a scheme
to him which was backed by full and reliable reports, he had a
habit of saying, "Your scheme looks good ; but my time is all
occupied with the business of this bank. You go and see •  -,
or  ; lay your proposition before him and then tell him to
call on me and explain it to me." How many such enterprises
he put upon their feet, no one knows. I recall one in partic
ular. The late Ike Bateman had a bond on the Northern Belle
mine at Candelaria. He went to Ralston, Ralston sent him to
General Dodge. The resu't was that in a day or two Dodge
had bought and paid for the mine and proceeded at once to
erect a great mill, though before that he was not known to have
any money. He made a great fortune from it in the succeed
ing three years and passed for a shrewd operator, while Ral-
ston's name was not mentioned in connection with the enter
prise. But Bonanzas are worked out after a while, and the de
cline of the Comstock began just when the critical time came
in the working out of several of Mr. Ralston's problems in San
Francisco, and when immense sums had to be provided. The
indomitable man struggled against the inevitable for months,
but finally the door of the great bank had to be closed.
A hasty examination of the accounts was made and then
D. O. Mills, in his mathematically correct business way, went
into Mr. Ralston's private room in the bank and in his tone of
icy correctness demanded that he should resign his official
position in the bank. AVithout a word the strong man wrote
out his resignation ; then left the bank from the Sansome street
side, walked rapidly to North Beach; was seen to swallow a
white powder and then sprang off the wharf into the water,
and a little later his lifeless bodv was recovered.
Then a great wave of pity swept over San Francisco.

W. C. RALSTON. 105
Those who had blamed him for the bank's failure, realizing
what he had done for the city and all its people, wept like chil
dren. But their tears no longer disturbed his calm.
He was quite six feet in height; carried a great head on
ample shoulders, and must have weighed two hundred pounds.
He had regular Roman features and his face was always
lighted and eyes alert. It was clear, to watch his movements,
that he had a tiger's determination, though the tiger was much
more given to purring than growling, and that he was driven
on by an insatiable energy and supported by a hopeful soul that
nothing but the last overwhelming disaster could quench.
In his social life he was geniality itself and was lavish in
his generosity. One sample will give an idea of his ways :
When Senator Nye of Nevada was finally denied a re-election,
a few gentlemen met on some business in the bank in San
Francisco. After the business was transacted and general con
versation began, one of those present said : "I am sorry for
old man Nye. He is old and poor and now his office has been
taken from him ; he is too old to renew the practice of law ; on
my soul I am sorry for him."
AVhile the gentleman was talking Ralston swung 'round
to his desk, picked up a pen, wrote a few lines; then tearing
off the paper he had been writing upon, he held up a check and
said : "I am sorry ten thousand dollars' worth ; how much are
you?" In twelve minutes $100,000 was raised and given to
the old Senator. He sailed for the East on the next steamer,
and the next heard of him, he was wandering, dazed, in a street
in Richmond, Va. He died a few months later in an asylum.
When Mr. Ralston died, the great clergyman, Dr. T.
Campbell Shorb, said of him :
"The loss is a great indescribable calamity to the State.
Had I the power I would drape California in the blackest crepe
from Siskiyou to San Diego, for he has left us who made Cali
fornia a synonym for princely hospitality and generosity to the
uttermost bounds of the universe. His most fitting, touching
and eloquent eulogy was pronounced in the question asked in
every street of San Francisco : 'Who shall take his place ?'
His heart was large as the mountain; he was noble, generous

106' AS I REMEMBER THEM.
and true ; his friendship unwavering. Honor, unfailing honor
to his memory; peace, everlasting peace to his soul."
We copy, too, a few words from the eulogy which Hon.
Thomas Fitch pronounced at this funeral :
"His eulogy is written on ten thousand hearts. Com
merce commemorates his deeds with her whitening sails and
her laden wharves. Philanthropy rings the chimes of all public
charities in attestation of his munificence. Patriotism rings
pjeons for him who, in the hour of the nation's struggle, sent
the ringing gold of mercy to chime with the flashing steel of
valor. Unnumbered deeds of private generosity attest his
secret munificence. Sorrow found solace in his deeds. De
spair has been lifted into hope by his voice. There are churches
whose heaven-kissing spires chronicle his donations; schools
claim him as their patron ; hospitals own him as their benefac
tor. He was the supporter of art ; science leaned on him while
her vision swept infinitely. The footsteps of progress have
been sandaled with his silver. He has upheld invention while
she wrestled with the forces of nature. He was the life-blood
of enterprise ; he was the vigor of all progress ; he was the epi
tome and representative of all that was broadening and expan
sive and uplifting in the life of California."
By the strict rules of business the fate of Mr. Ralston was
just. In a place of great trust he had used other men's money
in a way to cause its probable loss, and it would be a slander
to say he did not realize the possible consequences when he
did it. But no one who knew him ever believed that he meditated
any wrong. He had often gambled in stocks and believed he
could pull through. Four years previously Mr. Sharon had
loaned him $4,000,000 in just such an emergency, and his
over-sanguine nature urged him on. When he finally failed
he made no appeals for help. He said to himself: "I can
make but one atonement," so he sprang into the bay. May the
grand things he did in life plead for charity to his memory.

GEORGE C. GORHAM.
HE WENT to California with the Argonauts, a boy of
perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age. He was
always small, about five feet eight inches in height,
fair and slim. In personal appearance he resembled ex-Senator
and ex-Secretary of War Chandler of New Hampshire more
than any other man that I ever met. He resembled also the
picture of Marshall Ney of France.
He was brighter than any of those around him ; he could
write and talk, and, when the occasion required, he could par
alyze those near him by his audacity. A sample of this was
shown just after he reached Marysville, where he went imme
diately on his arrival in California.
He was poor and had to find something through which
to make a living, so in some way obtained an appointment as
notary public. Titles were being changed every day and ac
knowledgments had to be made. In his business he naturally
got to know all the city officers. A primitive circus came to
town and the manager applied to the sheriff for a license. The
sheriff was Mike Gray. He had been a Texan ranger, lieu
tenant under and close friend of Jack Hayes, the famous one.
He was as brave a man as ever lived. A man on the street
shot at him while he was seated in a buggy. He jumped from
his buggy on the right side of his horse, caught the horse by
the bit, swung around the horse's head to the left side, facing
the advancing man, who was trying to revolve his pistol, which
a broken cap clogged, and, drawing a derringer pistol from his
vest pocket, Gray killed the man. That evening a friend asked
Gray what other weapons he had, and he replied : "Not a
thing." The friend said, "You should not go about that way.
You are an officer, dealing with thugs every day, and you
should not go around with nothing but a four-inch derringer
on." Gray thought a moment and then said: "That's a fact;
there might be more than one of them next time." The idea

108 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
that a single barrel derringer would not be enough for one
man never crossed his mind.
But he was as genial and jolly as he was cool and self-
contained. So when the circus man appealed to him for a
license he heard his story, then asked him what kind of a circus
he had. The man explained. "It's a good show, is it?" was
Gray's next inquiry. The man replied that it was a good little
show for California and worth the money. Then Gray asked
him how $2,000 for a license would appeal to him.
The man answered that he could not think of that unless
the sheriff would take his circus in part payment. After ban
tering the poor fellow long enough, Gray said : "AVhy, of
course the boys will want to see it. Go ahead, and never mind
about the license!"
The man was grateful, and after thanking the sheriff told
him to come with his deputies, to announce to the man at the
door who he was and who his subordinates were and they
would be shown in.
Gorham heard of this, went to Gray and offered to attend
the circus in Gray's stead. When Gray declined the offer,
Gorham insisted that he must see that show and could not
afford to put up for a ticket. Gray explained that the offer
included only himself and his deputies and if he named a little
shrimp like George as a deputy, the circus man would know
he was lying and put the whole bunch out.
Gorham was still for a second, then said : "You don't
mind my following your disreputable procession when you go
to the circus, do you?" Gray laughingly replied that he had
followed a good many tough citizens in his time, and would
not mind if one followed him.
A few days prior to this, Gorham had become a clerk of
Stephen J. Field who later became a judge of the Supreme
Court of California and later still was for more than thirty
years a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.
The clay of the circus came and Gorham was at the sher
iff's office at the right time. Arriving at the tent, Gray an
nounced himself sheriff and passed in, then was followed by
the office sheriff and two or three deputies, and then came Gor-

GEORGE C, GORHAM. 109
ham. He did not pause in his walk, but as he reached the door
keeper, he, in a hoarse whisper, hissed, "Estoy Secretaris del
Alcalde et notarius publico," in his ear and passed in. Once
inside, Gray asked him how he made it. Gorham replied : "He
let you fellows in because you were just common officials ; when
I mentioned my title to him, he thought the Alcalde was my
clerk and was overcome by the honor of my presence." Gray
said: "Your Spanish must have hit him hard." With a laugh
Gorham replied : "Hard? It was a knockout."
Justice Field, in his book, tells how Gorham became his
clerk, as follows :
"One day while I was Alcalde, a bright-looking lad
with red cheeks and apparently about seventeen years of age
came into the office and asked if I did not want a clerk. I said
I did, and would willingly give $200 a month for a good one ;
but that I had written to Sacramento and was expecting one
from there. The young man suggested that perhaps the one
from Sacramento would not come, or might be delayed, and
that he would like to take the place in the meanwhile. I replied :
Very well, if he was willing to act until the other arrived, he
might. Thereupon he took hold and commenced work.
"Three days afterwards the man from Sacramento arrived,
but in the meantime I had become so much pleased with the
brightness and quickness of the young clerk that I could not
part with him. That young clerk was George C. Gorham, the
present (1877) secretary of the Senate. His quickness of
comprehension was really wonderful. Give him half an
idea of what was wanted and he would complete it, as
it were, by intuition. I remember on one occasion he wanted
to know what was necessary for a marriage settlement. I
asked him why. He replied that he had been employed by
a French lady to prepare such a settlement, and was to receive
twenty-five dollars for the instrument. I gave him some sug
gestions, but added that he had better let me see the document
after he had written it. In a short time afterwards he brought
it to me, and I was astonished to find it nearly perfect. There
was only one correction to make. And thus ready I always
found him. With the most general directions he would execute

110 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
anything committed to his charge, and usually with perfect
correctness. "When I went upon the bench of the Supreme Court, I ap
pointed him clerk of the Circuit Court of the United States
for the District of California, and with the exception of the
period during which he acted as Secretary of Governor Low,
he remained as such clerk until he was nominated for the office
of Governor of the State."
The truth is, that Gorham knew more politics than Field
and Low combined, and it was Gorham that secured the nom
ination of Field for Supreme Judge of California, and the nom
ination of Low for Governor. When he himself was nominated
for Governor, he should have been elected and would have
been except for two things. AAmen the old Central Pacific
Railroad Company obtained its government money subsidy, it
will be remembered that when the road should leave the valley
and enter the foothills, the subsidy was to be doubled. Well,
Gorham went to AA^ashington and had the foothills moved down
to within twelve miles of Sacramento. So when he was nom
inated for Governor, it was charged that he was a railroad
candidate. Then General Bidwell had just ploughed up his vineyard,
and in the temperance move that was then sweeping over Cali
fornia, was nominated for Governor. All the votes he obtained
were drawn from Gorham, and the Democratic candidate was
elected. California made a mistake. Gorham would have made
a most brilliant Governor and one of the most far-sighted and
honest Governors the State would ever have had.
The night after he was nominated, the Republican State
central committee called upon him and asked him to write an
address to Republican voters, and said they wanted it, if pos
sible, within a week. He bade them be seated, turned to his
desk and began to write. Meanwhile his little boy was climbing
upon and playing horse on the back of his chair. In forty
minutes he gathered up the sheets and, handing them to the
chairman, said : 'Publish that ; it will answer in a campaign
as well as a carefully prepared paper."
It was perfect, and just exactly covered the case.

GEORGE C. GORHAM. Ill
I think it was Stewart and Nye, senators from Nevada,
who obtained his appointment as secretary of the Senate of the
United States. He held the office for many years — eighteen, I
believe — and was a walking encyclopedia for that body.
He was always most courteous, but his quiet criticisms of
some bumptious senators were delicious to listen to. Fie was
in full accord with the stalwarts of both parties, but he never
liked Sumner. He said, one clay, of him: "Why, the old
fraud, counting on our ignorance, talks bad Latin in his
speeches." He was always a stalwart. There were as many
Democrats as Republicans in Marysville, California, in 1861.
But when Washington's anniversary came, Gorham procured
a large mackerel, and, going into the saloon Eldorado, where
many Democrats congregated, he went from one to another
and, holding up the mackerel, said : "Take a whiff of that I
From this time on, it is to be the American eagle."
Had anyone else tried the same thing, he would have been
killed. I saw Gorham at the Willard in Washington just after
a Democrat had succeeded him as secretary of the Senate. He
said : "I could have been Governor of California and would
have been had not one who was under great obligations to me
betrayed me. I might have been Senator. It was offered me,
but I put it by for a friend who wanted it more than I did. I
have helped a good many friends to get office ; I have enabled a
good many other friends to get rich; I have distributed more
than $3,000,000 since I became secretary of the Senate, but
my accounts have exactly balanced, and I am going to New
York today to begin work to support my little family, and
listen ! I do not take a regret with me, for I have done the best
I could." Later, he wrote the life of Secretary Stanton and per
formed much other literary work. Some months ago, I heard
he was dead, and I said then as I say now, "Poor George,
the world will never know how high of soul, how clean and
true and great he really was/'

THOMAS STARR KING.
ALL the men of whom I have spoken in this series of
reminiscences had within them more or less of the earth
earthy. Thomas Starr King had not enough of base
metal in his nature to hold his spirit long in this world. Gold
has to be alloyed with a harder metal to endure the attrition of
daily use. There was no alloy in Starr King, and he was
quickly worn out.
He weighed, I judge, about one hundred and forty pounds.
He was slight and fair, but the head above his shoulders was
a royal one ; the face a sovereign one, and notwithstanding his
delicate appearance, his voice held within it all the sweetness
of the harp when struck by a master hand, all the power and
solemn grandeur of a great cathedral organ. He had, more
over, that subtle magnetism which drew and retained his audi
ence while he talked. But his was never a dress parade elo
quence. It was, after all, the thoughts behind his words that
held men and women captive while he spoke; the thoughts
and words and that majesty which comes from the soul of
some men, maybe once in a century. Listening to him one
thought involuntarily of the statement that when the Master
was in the Garden by the brook Kidron, the soldiers came to
arrest him and when they told him whom they sought and he re
plied : "I am He," they walked backward and fell to the ground.
He was of New England's bluest blood. He was denied
a university training. His father, a clergyman, had prepared
him for college, but when the boy was fifteen years of age the
father suddenly died and the care of the mother and younger
children, turned him to labor for them. He worked as a clerk,
then as a teacher.
But while the training of his brain in the schools was for
•the time arrested, his soul was growing and at nineteen he
began to preach. The recognition of his genius was instanta
neous. He was wanted everywhere, and for eleven years he
held New England enthralled. Boston had claimed him and

THOMAS STARR KING. 113
counted on him as one of that royal circle which half a cen
tury and more ago was an intellectual Aurora Boreal is in that
northern latitude of New England.
He was a Unitarian minister and Edward Everett Hale
was a foster father to him.
AA'hile young in his ministry a great longing for the west
came upon him, and amid the sorrow and good wishes of the
highest in Boston intellectual circles, he sailed for California.
When he landed in San Francisco, though few knew the fact,
it was really the coming of an apostle of religion and an evangel
of patriotism. A pulpit was waiting for him, and his first
sermon made clear that the west coast had gained a treasure
richer than any in her mines, for from the first, men instinct
ively felt that behind all that he said, there was a character so
lofty that it was interwoven into the very texture of the man
himself; a something which was as much a part of the man as
were his vocal chords or as was the blood in his arteries.
He preached and lectured, and wrote, and grew constantly
in public estimation — he was a light to the west coast, for
every man was his brother in his own estimation, and it was his
duty to hold up the hands of his fellows and to affirm the mercy
and glory of God.
With the coming of the great Civil war he was strangely
agitated. How native land was to be saved in its entirety;
how the old love and trust were to be wooed back were prob
lems that exercised his mind continually.
When the scheme to raise money to purchase comforts and
medicines for the soldiers and to pay nurses for attending
upon the sick and the wounded was broached, he became its
instant advocate, and to further it he lectured through the
Pacific states. He drew all classes to those lectures until his
fame, which had been, in most part, confined to San Francisco
and surrounding towns, filled the whole coast. His travels,
too, gave him every day new scenes from which to draw illus
trations. It is presumptious to try to give an idea of his style or
his methods on the rostrum, but we will relate one incident.
He was delivering a lecture in Carson City, Nevada, for the

114 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
benefit of the sanitary fund. He finally, in his lecture, as pre
liminary to an apostrophe to patriotism, told how, a few days
before, he was sailing down the Columbia, and the theme of
all on board was a great battle, news of which had just reached
the west coast. He noticed a solitary man sitting by the
rail and showing no interest in what was going on.
Going over to him, he said : "Have you no interest in the
tremendous events now convulsing the country?"
"None at all," was the reply, "all I want is to be left
alone." "Do you realize that the life of the republic is hanging in
the balance, and that your countrymen are dying by thou
sands?" "I have lost no one. All I want is to be left alone," said
the man, doggedly.
"Have you no love of country? No appreciation of the
blessings that have been yours all your life under the flag and
the splendor that it represents?" was the next question.
"No, I jist want to be let alone," was the querulous answer.
Then straightening himself and stretching outward and
downward his right hand, and in a voice that thrilled all who
heard it, Starr King cried: "And that abject, cowering wretch
sat there, though Mount Hood in its majesty was towering
above him, and the Columbia was rolling at his feet."
It was not what he said, but the way he said it that
thrilled those who listened and made them realize more fully
the full meaning of what he said on another occasion, which
was : "The soul is not a shadow; the body is. Genius is not
a shadow ; it is a substance. Patriotism is not a shadow, it
is light." At that time there were thousands of men on the coast
who were working to cause the secession of California, Oregon
and Nevada, and to have them join the Southern confederacy
or to organize an independent Pacific Republic. King's
soul was on fire, and his appeals were bugle calls.
In the lecture field he sounded all literature for illustra
tions and all the moods of men were his to play upon. Every-

THOMAS STARR KING. 115
thing was at his command, but there was thought behind all his
words. For instance, how expressive is this : "Fie who com
poses a poem that has no burning thought in it, is not so orig
inal as he who constructs an original mouse trap. The one is
a mere artisan in words, the other an original thinker in wire
and wood." And again : "So many of us there are who have no majes
tic landscapes for the heart, no gardens in the inner life! We
live on the flats, in a country which is dry, droughty, barren.
We look up to no heights where shadows fall and streams flow,
singing. We have no great hopes. We have no sense of infi
nite guard and care. AA'e have no sense of divine, all-enfold
ing love. We may make an outward visit to the Sierras, but
there are no Yosemites in the soul."
And hear this :
"History, until of late, has been mostly a record of bat
tles, many of which had no effect on society. But history
truly written will show that the hinge-epoch of centuries was
when no battle sound was heard on the earth — when in Gali
lee One was uttering sentiments in a language now nowhere
spoken, never deigning to write a line, but entrusting to the air
His words. The Caesar, whose servant ordered His crucifixion
— all the Caesars — are dead, but His words live yet, the sub
stantial agents of civilization, the pillars of our welfare, the
hope of the race."
And again :
"Running up through the realm of science to society, and
to the life of nations, we find that the apex-truth which the
intellect discovers is this : Character is of supreme impor
tance for national growth, prosperity and stability. How im
pressive does history seem as a study, when we find that every
country is a huge pedestal, lifting up one national figure, which
symbolizes the prospects and the perils of the millions that dwell
around its base."
So he lived, working constantly and for only three things
— his fellow men, his country and the glory of God.
The secret of his charm was in his absolute sincerity and
in the loftiness of his character. He was intensely human in all

116 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
his acts; every man who had a sorrow was his brother, but
when an intellectual field was to be explored he was every
where a leader ; whenever a righteous cause needed a champion
his voice was loudest and sweetest of all. He believed that all
men should be educated; that there was no safety to society
except in obedience to law; his apostrophes to charity in all
its forms were sometimes anthems, sometimes trumpet calls;
he believed in full liberty; he consecrated his life to duty, and
wore himself out and died just as he reached the zenith of his
intellectual power. A Amen dying he said :
"Do not weep for me. I know it's right. I wish I could
make you feel so. I wish I could describe my feelings. They
are strange ! I feel all the privileges and greatness of the future.
It already looks grand, beautiful."
I feel that the forgoing does not nearly do justice to the
wonderful man, and close by copying the little poem which Bret
Harte wrote, evidently feeling the same way, to a pen that the
S'reat soul had written with :

&

"This is the reed the dead musician dropped,
With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden.
The prompt allegro of its music stopped,
Its melodies unbidden.
"But who shall finish the unfinished strain,
Or wake the instruments to awe and wonder,
And bid the slender barrel breath again —
An organ-pipe of thunder?
"His pen ! What haunting memories cling about
Its golden curves ! What shapes and laughing graces
Slipped from its point, when his full heart went out
In smiles and courtly phrases !
"The truth, half jesting, half in earnest, flung;
The word of cheer, with recognition in it;
The note of alms, whose golden speech outrung
The golden gift within it.
"But all 'in vain the enchanter's wand we wave;
No stroke of ours recalls its magic vision ;
The incantation that its power gave
Sleeps with the dead magician."

THE OLD BOYS.
THE old California days are always coming back upon
me in thought, and perhaps it will not be unwelcome if
I devote a chapter to the old boys. California was not
settled like any other state. As late as 1848 the United States
was a poor country in wealth. It was rated a little higher than
Turkey, not much above Spain in its material wealth.
At that time the Sacramento, the American, the Feather,
the Yuba, the Stanislaus, the Merced, the San Joaquin and the
other rivers were flowing on and on, serene and unvexed, to
the sea. Their banks had never been disturbed by the pros
pector's tread.
But the hour came at length when the nation was to ad
vance to a higher plane, about to take up a new station among
the earth's nations ; and treasures were needed for that forward
march; so they were released.
In those first days California was fairyland. It was beau
tiful beyond description. Nature seemed to have gathered
there all her glories. The mountains were a rugged back
ground for pictures such as angels might have painted with
the brushes of the Infinite, with dyes from the very fountains
of light. The valleys were carpeted with flowers, the mountains
looked up to from the valleys were azure until where the
higher range asserted itself — there their brows were white as
a planet's light.
The air was soft and sweet, and came to the faces of men
like a caress. The sunlight was the crowning glory.
Sun-kissed seas smote all the long coast; the mountain
tops were crowned with such forests as the newcomers had
never beheld, never dreamed of before, while over real golden
sands the rivers followed their channels to the sea.
Such was the land that greeted the newcomers, and in
such a land nothing seemed impossible save man's capacity to
grasp the opportunities before and around him, to dare to reach

118 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
for and seize the triumphs which Hope painted on the retinas
of brave eyes.
The people who were gathered there were the pick of the
world. Young men were in the majority, every state was
represented and the outside world supplied its quota. There
were some bad men, of course. I have seen a coyote among
the orange groves of Riverside.
What a broadening of horizons came then, and to hearts
what a melting away of prejudices was experienced; how the
innate divinity in royal souls shone out.
Besides the young there were older ones, those who had
fled from the narrowness and poverty that had bound their
lives from the cradle up. Some had fled from unhappy homes
where, illy-mated at first, the cramped environment had added
heart-breaking cares to original disappointments. Others had
left happy homes, except that mouths became many and
rewards few, so they had been forced to follow a vision of
enough wealth to buy for the loved ones surcease from trouble.
Society lacked the only natural leaven — -the restraints, the
grace, the benign influence of pure women, the music and
the benediction of children's voices and presence.
The effect was quickly seen. When a ship loses its rudder
it falls off into the trough of the sea, and with every oncoming
wave its decks are swept. Many a naturally brave soul became
reckless ; the vices caught them. Thousands of lives went pre
maturely out because there was no wife or mother or sister or
sweetheart to steady them with a reproachful look, or cheer
them when the world's bufferings made them despair.
But there was an empire to redeem from savagery, there
were infinite mountains to explore, broad valleys to people
and cultivate, states to be rounded into form, and behind every
other incentive there was a promise of gold.
The coming to the new land had chastened the people.
Whether by way of the plains, by sail ship around the conti
nent, or by the charnal ships that came and went to and from
the Isthmus, it mattered not. There was suffering enough to
make men thoughtful and considerate, to engender gratitude
for a land which offered so much and was so beautiful. There

THE OLD BOYS. 119
were no written laws that men regarded and it was then that
the fashion of the west and southwest was established. Men
held each other personally responsible for shortcomings, and
the result was not so bad. There is a class of men needing
control that is better controlled in that way than in any other.
As the hosts increased the old enlightened instinct asserted
itself. There were offenses that individuals without authority
could not follow to conviction and punishment. The need of
laying the foundation of society where order could be main
tained and laws enforced was soon apparent and generally
accepted. Of course, the country was supposed to be under
military rule, into which some civil forms had been injected,
but in the mining camps something more was needed.
With Anglo-Saxon directness the work was inaugurated.
Fortunately there was no lack of material to set up a govern
ment to start it in motion. No community ever had a larger
portion of educated, trained men. Thus, men went to work.
They explored the hills, they turned the rivers from their
natural channels, they made new applications of the engineer's
science. In part, they adjusted themselves to their surround
ings — in part compelled their surroundings to minister to
them. The implements that men work with they remodeled
to save weight where weight was not needed, to make their
own strength avail more when using those implements. A
change came also in their characters. The absence of pure
women gave them a higher appreciation of what a pure woman
is ; the absence of children impressed upon them the knowledge
that a world without children would not be worth living in.
The hardships of their lives made them generous and for
bearing toward the weak and unfortunate. The habit of accept
ing as a matter of course everything which Fate had in store
for them, developed in them a self-reliance which was superb,
an unpretentious courage which was sublime. At the same
time they acquired a habit of careless levity which would have
made a stranger think they had never felt a care or heartache
in their lives.
When in jovial mood they were a race of rare jokers and
sometimes there was a sting in their words. They had not

120 A3 I REMEMBER TFIEM.
much reverence for the forms which in polite society are en
forced. A stovepipe hat would have been in great clanger in
an old-time mining camp; but their cabins were never locked
and strangers passing were expected to go in and help them
selves to anything they needed in the way of food. But the
thief who would take money or gold dust or anything else of
value was dealt with in a way so decided, expeditious and
thorough that more than one man was kept honest through the
certain knowledge of what would follow if an offense were
committed. In those days a horse was worth vastly more than
a man. That is, if two men quarreled and one was killed, the
offense was generally condoned; but woe to a horse thief if
ever caught. Of course, in such communities a cry of distress
was a signal for universal and unstinted charity, and it was
extended in such a way as to make the recipient feel that he had
conferred a favor by accepting it.
What a place those camps were for puncturing frauds!
A pretentious man quickly grew weary of himself. The quack
doctor or lawyer was quickly discovered and banished by ridi
cule ; but if a sincere and earnest man entered a camp, explained
that he was a minister of the gospel and desired a place in
which to deliver a brief sermon, if necessary the games were
all summarily stopped in the biggest gambling hall in the town,
the preacher was given a billiard table for a pulpit, attentively
listened to, when he had finished was handsomely rewarded
and told when he came that way again to drop in and
make himself at home. When he was gone there was a general
discussion as to whether the lead that the preacher was follow
ing would ever end in the finding of pay dirt, some holding, in
the idiom of the camp, that the gold was too light to save, or
that the diggings were too pockety, or that there was too much
dirt to move to reach pay rock, or that it was the "Blue Lead"
he was on without any certainty of ever gettting into the pay
channel. But it was generally believed that a preacher seemed
to be mining on the square and confidently expected to finally
"strike it big."
Those camps were veritable bonanzas for theatrical com
panies — unless too bad — that visited them. A pretty girl in

THE OLD BOYS. 121
the tinsel of the stage, dancing a lively hornpipe or Spanish
waltz was sure to hear falling around her as she danced halves
and dollars until the stage was covered with coin. She brought
back to the men vividly the memory of the girls they had left in
the states and they were anxious to pay her for the service.
But there were great souls in those camps. Many later
proved it, many more kept still and those who see their graves
in the valleys or on the mountains will never know their ster
ling worth, what they were to the world, how splendid were
their services, how steady and true their patriotism.
All those years men east and west saw what was being
clone in California, but only the more sagacious ones realized
the full scope of the work and progress — the eventual results
that would follow. It became a habit of the steamers every
fortnight to carry east two millions to three millions of dollars.
The first effect was the increased credit that was ready to be
extended to our country; railroad building took on a new
impetus and the men of Europe were willing to buy American
railroad bonds. In those clays it was a habit every year to bring-
in from across the plains large numbers of eastern horses.
They were very lean of flesh upon their arrival and were turned
out upon the rich pastures. When, the next year, they were
caught, it was found that five-year-old horses had grown half
a hand in height over what they were when they left the east.
In like manner men grew, not in Stature, but in mind. They
were broader, steadier-brained than when they left home. The
change was such as comes to volunteers when, under the fric
tion of a great war, they are hardened and refined into vet
erans. It is the rule in the eastern states to give those pioneers
credit for what they did, but it is often said, "It is most strange
that no really very great men were with those Argonauts."
People that talk that way do not know. Mount Shasta is a
very much more imposing mountain than Mt. Whitney, though
Whitney is the higher mountain of the two. The reason is
that Shasta is a butte — that is, it springs up into the heavens
from the valley and is not dwarfed by any surrounding moun
tains, while all around Mt. Whitney are peaks almost as high

122 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
as its own. There was a general higher proportion of great
brains and great hearts in California than were ever 'seen in
any state before. It will do no harm to name a few as they
come to memory.
There was General E. D. Baker, who went east as a sen
ator on the eve of the coming of the great war, and a little
later died under a battle cloud.
There was David C. Broderick, who made himself a name
in California which is reverenced there still, and who, in the
same cause, though under a different name, died for his
country. He who later was General Teeumseh Sherman was run
ning a little bank, and he who later was Admiral Farragut
commanded at Mare island.
At that time, too, John W. Mackay was mining on Yuba
river. The world knows what he was pretty well, but I remem
ber when a strike was threatened in Virginia City, he said
to me: "The little additional money that these miners want is
nothing. (They were getting $4.00 a day.) What I hate is
the spirit of it all. I rolled rocks in the Yuba river month
after month, even though I did not earn four bits a day, but
then I did not strike. I lived on the four bits (fifty cents) until
I could make more, then I enlarged my menu, and the one
thought that possessed me in all those years was, sometime,
somewhere, if I had but courage enough and strength enough,
I could win out. I never thought of asking help of any man, I
never growled at conditions; the good God had given me a
good constitution and a pair of strong arms, and I always said
to myself that that was capital enough to begin with in this
world." Buying gold dust in those days was D. O. Mills. When
later a fortune came to him, he went to New York, and the
shrewdest financiers there realized that there was a man among
them equal to their best.
There was Collis P. Huntington, who had a little store in
Sacramento. AATien later a fortune came to him and he went
to New York and started into a regular Roman wrestling

THE OLD BOYS. 123
match with the financiers there, they found he was about the
hardest man to throw down they had ever met.
There was J. P. Jones. All those years he was up in the
hills of Trinity county. Those who knew him knew he was
brighter than anybody, jollier than anybody, deeper than any
body else in their county, and when later he went to Nevada
and was sent from there to the senate of the United States,
in his careless way and dress the other senators looked upon
him as a western product which would add picturesqueness if
not much wisdom to the senate. But finally a great national
question came up and then this miner who had become senator,
arose to speak upon it. He had proceeded but a little way until
the sharp men around him began to question him, expecting,
of course, to discomfit him. He answered all their questions
on the moment and answered them in such a way that they
knew instinctively that what they had thought was a common
stone was in fact a pure diamond, and ever after they were
careful how they questioned him.
There was Chief Justice Hugh Murray, who went upon
the bench when but a little over thirty years of age and died
when he was only thirty-four years of age, but who wrote
decisions which lawyers now appeal to and admit their
strength and directness.
There was Stephen J. Field, who, after a while, was made
a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, who held
the place for more than thirty years and whose decisions are
models for lawyers in every state in the Union.
There were wild miners who sent communications to the
city papers and when they were read, the public knew that
somewhere in the hills a new bird was singing with voice
sweeter than the lark, but more shrill than the eagle's scream.
Bret Harte found fame first in California. He caught
it from the atmosphere down there. He never could have
written "Truthful James" had he remained in the east. That
came from the impelling forces around him.
There were such clergymen as Dr. Scott and Reverend
Stebbins ; such lawyers as John B. Felton and Hall McAlister ;
such scholars as Leconte. There were men of affairs there

124 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
who, looking at the boundless possibilities before them, said
to themselves, "We are sufficient for them. We will grasp
them and take them in." There was little Wm. Sharon, deli
cate of health, who made no noise in Ca'ifornia, but who later
stood at the helm when the Comstock's future was hanging in
the balance and saved it, and when later there came the crash
of the Bank of California and the eastern financiers said, "That
is the end. Another western bubble has burst," he closed his
thin lips and in three months had the bank again established,
all the debts paid, all the dishonor which had been threatening
turned aside, and gave to the men of the east an object lesson,
where a bank failed and where no other bank in all this nation
had ever reopened when loaded with such responsibilities ; gave
them an object lesson in a rejuvenated bank, stronger and
more commanding than ever.
There was no end of them. There was no work too big
for them to undertake and carry out. And there were others
who did not care for all the gold in California, who sat on their
perches like mocking birds and mocked every singer in the
forest, and then, as if out of self-respect, struck out and sang
a song of their own, sweeter than the mourning dove's call to
her sweetheart. If the present generation is not altogether remarkable, it is
not any lack in the race, but it is because those Argonauts,
when they saw a child, were sure to spoil it. If it did not
have a silver spoon in its mouth, they put one in, and they let
that first generation grow up under the sunbeams, living idle
lives, like the birds that sang around them, like the flowers that
bloomed around them, and it will take perhaps a generation or
two more before a race appears that will understand from the
first that nothing is really good unless it is earned, and that
it is man's duty from the first, with his own hands, and eyes,
and brain, if he wants something worth keeping, to earn it.
As I began, so I close. California then was the glory of
the earth. It is a glory still, and the first race that gave the
nation the gold through which it might become great, which
planted the first fields, which framed the first institutions, was
the stateliest race that had ever peopled a new state.

WILLIAM SHARON.
IT IS said that a new bonanza has been discovered and is
now being explored in the deep levels of the old Mexican
mine. It is fifty-two years since two placer miners, work
ing with rockers on a little stream that ran down East canyon
¦from Mount Davidson, in what was then Carson County, Utah,
found as they worked up this ravine, increasing value in each
clay's work until at last, as they reached the head of the ravine,
they realized $300 per clay from each rocker ; notwithstand
ing that a persistent bluish rock annoyed them by clogging
their rockers and despite the fact that some incomprehensible
alloy reduced the value of their gold to $13 per ounce. Their
eyes were blinded. They never had thought of sending the
material they were washing to an assayer. Why should they ?
It was one hundred and fifty miles by trail to the nearest
assay office, and then it was only gold that they were after,
and they could get the gold by washing. At the head of the
ravine, they came upon a great deposit of this rich gravel, and
located it. The news of the rich diggings they had found was
told by one prospector to another and now and then a man
climbed that rugged mountain out of curiosity to see what was
there. One of these picked up a piece of this strange blue-
black metal and carried it away as a pocket piece. He lived
near where Reno, Nevada, now is, but a few days later made
a visit to his old home in Nevada City, California. He gave
this strange pocket piece to a friend. The friend took it to
an assayer and asked him to test it for gold, silver, copper or
anything else he could think of. The result was nearly $1,200
gold and nearly $1,500 silver per ton.
So the gravel that the miners had been working up the
ravine, and the deposit they had located at the head of the
ravine, was not gravel at all, but decomposed rock from the
croppings of the old Ophir and Mexican mines, as they have
since been known.
That was how one end of the great Comstock lode was

126 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
discovered. Of course, there was an unparalleled excitement
and rush for the astounding new camp. It was the first silver
mine ever found in the United States ; a little later more silver
mines were found out on the desert north, east and south ; the
whole financial world was electrified. What fortunes could not
men accumulate now. Who could measure the wealth of such
a country as ours?
No man in the republic knew how to successfully reduce
silver ores, but that abashed no one. The silver and the gold
were there, and there must be a way to work them, so they
went to work. The story of those first years has often been
told. Two or three years later a man went up from San Fran
cisco to see the famous lode and the state of business around
the mines. That man was William Sharon. He had early
gone to California and engaged in the realty business in San
Francisco. He was well educated in the schools, had studied law
enough to understand its exact relations to business, was by
nature shrewd and far-seeing and could reason from cause to
effect on a business proposition with the quickness of intuition.
He was a small man, weighing perhaps 135 pounds, always
delicate of health. His hands were small and white as those
of a dainty and perfectly groomed woman, but he carried a
sovereign head upon his shoulders, and his features were as
clearly cut as were those of that class of old Greeks that rung
the world of their day. His face was lighted by a pair of cold
gray eyes, a glance into which made clear that any one who
dealt with him should understand from the first that no bluff
would ever carry with him, that no matter what the crisis would
be, it would be met without fear.
The Vigilance committee of 1856 gave San Francisco
business a very black eye ; the cream of the California placers
had been skimmed ; the rush to Fraser River of thousands of
miners in 1858, and the return of those miners as a rule bereft
of everything, made any advance for San Francisco impossible,
and men who were loaded up with San Francisco real estate,

WILLIAM SHARON. 127
if much in debt, could not extricate themselves, and lost all
they had.
After 1859, the liveliest business there was dealing in
mining shares. Sharon watched this for a while, and then
went in person to Virginia City. He found a strange state of
affairs. A good many crude quartz mills had been built,
generally on insufficient capital; the cream of the croppings
of the great lode had been skimmed ; most of the mines were
in litigation; the little banks there had loaned all their money
on mills and mines at a regular interest of five per cent per
month, but could collect neither principal nor interest, nor
could run the mines nor mills; there were no pay days for
miners, and Sharon found a community of several thousand
people standing over immeasurable treasures, but unable to
utilize them.
It was a case of oceans in sight but not a drop to drink.
The prospect of bringing order out of such a situation would
have daunted most men. Sharon, after looking around a few
clays, wired W C. Ralston of the Bank of California that the
thing needed there was a bank. Ralston wired back, "Come
clown, and we will talk it over."
The result was that in a few days a branch bank was
established there. It took over the interests of the little banks
in the mines and mills, a regular pay-day for miners was estab
lished ; interest was reduced to twelve per cent per annum ; reg
ular superintendents at high salaries were appointed on the sep
arate mines; about the same time the dealing ceased to be in
feet, and began to be carried on in shares; order was estab
lished, and business, reduced to business channels, began to
move without friction. And William Sharon was the captain
on the bridge that ordered everything, anticipated everything,
prepared for everything and with a nerve that was superb
fought the difficulties that confronted him and kept the im
mense machinery of that business running smoothly; though
there were times when the obstacles in the way would have
broken the heart of any other man, for sometimes it looked
as though the whole lode was going into perpetual borasca.
His troubles were not all local. D. O. Mills was then presi-

128 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
dent of the parent bank in San Francisco, and was exact in his
business methods as a perfectly adjusted engine is in its move
ments, and looked upon anything like gambling in business
when that in any way affected the integrity of a bank, as an
unforgivable crime, and mining was not reduced to an exact
science in those days by a very considerable extent. Indeed,
there is always an element of gambling in mining, and for that
matter in every kind of business. When the farmer ploughs his
field and plants his crop, he gambles that the soil, the moisture,
the sunlight and the air, will return him three or four or forty
fold what he plants, and he does this, knowing that possibly
frost, or the drought, or the locust or the worm, or the storm
may render all his efforts rewardless.
So the miner, when he sees an indication on one level,
knowing the pitch and trend of the mine, figures that at a
certain point in the depth, that indication will have swelled
into an ore body and delves for it, all the time aware that
a fault may have occurred a million years ago that would
make his hopes futile, and his labor vain, but from the record
of the doctrine of chances, estimates how often he will win.
Many people pronounce his work extra hazardous, but call the
gambling of the insurance man legitimate business when he,
in fact, for $30 of your money hand paid, wagers that your
$3,000 house will not burn for a year to come. In the same
way Mr. Sharon learned the habits of the Comstock and so
dealt with its moods, and though carrying the cares of a hun
dred men in his brain, directed and controlled that mighty
business and knew every day his business latitude and longi
tude as certainly as does the master of a ship his place on the
sea, when every day the great sun bends down to give him the
needed data. So he was justly called the king of the Com
stock for ten years. At last he aspired to be elected to the
senate and he was. I fear all his methods would not have
been approved by Senator Beveridge, but his methods were not
like those in the East. Here is a sample : Joe Stewart was
a Virginia City gambler. He was known far and near as a
dead square man in business. Sharon met him one morning
and said : "Joe, I am going to be a candidate for senator. You

WILLIAM SFTARON. 129
and I have long been friends. I want you to help me among
your class of men. It will take much of your time, and you
will naturally spend a good deal of money. Come into the
bank and I will give you, a check." "Your check be d — d,"
was Joe's reply. "I expect to help you; you know that I will
do all I can for you, but not for money. You can command
me without any of your checks." "Oh, all right," said Sharon.
They then talked for a few minutes, when Sharon suddenly
said : "By the way, Joe, it is a long time since we had a game
of poker. Can you not fix one for tonight?" "Oh, yes," said
Stewart. "Well, make it for about 9 p. m. and I will be up,"
said Sharon. He was there at the hour and the game began. Sharon
was unlucky from the first. He lost and lost with a bad grace.
He made a great ado over every loss, until Stewart said :
"Why, Sharon, what is the matter with you tonight? I have
seen you lose before, but have never known you to make such a
fuss over it."
"It is a blankety blank thieving game. How much do I
owe?" asked Sharon. Stewart looked over the memoranda
and replied, "Four thousand seven hundred and sixty-five dol
lars." Sharon called for a blank check, filled in the amount
and signed it; then pushed it over to Stewart and said: "I
suppose you think you have earned that." "Yes," said Stewart.
"It was a square game." Then Sharon said: "See how much
trouble you can make a man sometimes. That is just $235
less than I intended to give you this morning, if you had not
got so cranky about nothing."
In that same campaign a husky young man called at the
office one day and, saying that his name was Sharon, asked to
see Mr. William Sharon. General Dodge was in the ante
room, showed him in and explained to Mr. Sharon that the
man said his own name was Sharon and that he hailed from
eastern Nevada. Sharon greeted him cordially asking him what
Sharon family he belonged to, and how things were in eastern
Nevada. The man proceeded to business at once. He said he
could control at least fifty votes, but it would require some
money. "About how much money?" asked Sharon. "About

130 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
$100 apiece," was the reply. A cold bluff for $5,000. It was
too transparent. Sharon sprang from his chair like a tiger,
and hurling an unspeakable volley of anathemas at the man,
wound up by saying: "You infernal petty larceny hold-up.
I will give you $500 if you will petition some legislature to
change your name, but would not give you another cent to
save your worthless life."
The man seemed glad to get out alive without even
the $500. A year and a half later Ralston stretched out too far, and
the great California bank had to close its doors. It was a bad
break, so bad that it was believed to be hopeless. The eastern
newspapers held it up as a sample of wild speculation, and
scoffed at the idea that it could ever again open its doors. The
directors of the bank were overwhelmed and utterly pros
trated. For the marriage of his daughter to Senator Newlands
and to please his children, Sharon had fitted his San Francisco
home beautifully ; the parlors were a dream. When the bank
closed its doors he had some rough tables placed in those par
lors, upon the tables were paper and pencils and cigars, and
around these tables, amid clouds of cigar smoke, for six weeks
the directors sat and consulted. Some were quitters, some
cowards, some belligerent, but all, at the beginning, were set
tled in the conviction that the bank was hopelessly involved
and intent only on seeing how much of their private fortunes
could be saved from the wreck.
One of the band intimated that the trouble started by
adopting mining methods of running the bank. At this Sharon
quietly rejoined that he had never suggested a change in the
bank's methods ; that by his work in Nevada he had made every
one of them more money than he had lost by the failure, and
had four years previously saved the bank from disaster,
when by the opening of New Montgomery street, and the pur
chase of the necessary realty, the bank had advanced too much
money. Another director then began to assail the memory of Mr.
Ralston, and then all the smothered wrath in Sharon's soul

WILLIAM SHARON. 131
burst forth, and in a few terse and incisive sentences he declared
that Mr. Ralston had more heart and soul than the whole band.
That whatever his faults were he had made restitution for
them all by dying of a broken heart, and that in their further
deliberations those faults should not be called in evidence.
Continuing, he then insisted that the question before them
was not how to bury a wreck, but how to reinstate a great
financial institution and save their individual honor, and the
honor of the city and state. They all declared that to be im
possible, but Sharon insisted. So the matter hung for days.
The bold and angry ones Sharon bluffed ; the fearful and timid
ones he coaxed and conciliated, his position being that each
from his private fortune should double his subscription as a
stockholder; that by so doing the bank would be in better
standing in a year than it ever had been and would pay them
better interest on their money than they could obtain in any
other way. In addition, for his part he took the half-finished
Palace Hotel with its liabilities. After some weeks of this, the
announcement was one morning made in the papers that on
a certain day the California Bank would resume business and
be prepared to meet all demands.
It did open as advertised, in three months it had won back
all the prestige it had lost, and was making more money than
ever before. It exalted the prestige and credit of the west in
the east more than any other event ever did, and it made clear
that among shrewd and sagacious financiers William Sharon
was a past grand master.
In private life Mr. Sharon had his moods. When an
noyed he could be unreasonable, and say unjust words ; again
he could be the most delightful of hosts, and a most brilliant
conversationalist, for he was a finished scholar along all the
lines of the great thinkers, and again when in reminiscent mood
to trusted friends he sometimes made clear the load he had
carried while lifting the burdens from the well-nigh prostrate
Comstock. In the gentle way he rehearsed them, with nothing-
like vanity or egotism in the narrative, the story was as win
some as a great drama.

COL. DAVID T. BUEL.
SIX feet four inches in height, had he met Saul his first
question would have been : "Son of Kish, which of
us are the people looking up to?" He obtained his
military title by leading a band of men against the Pitt River
and Modoc Indians who had been raiding the settlements on
the lower Pitt river, in California, in 1850 or 1851. His com
mand brought home many scalps.
He had fairly earned his title, for he was never afraid.
His brain was filled with a rude but far-seeing strategy, and his
tactics, though not elaborate, were effective. They may be
described in the few words, "Find 'em; then take 'em in."
He was a natural leader. With his height, his breadth of
shoulders, his aggressiveness and the absolute absence of fear
in his make-up, he could not help but be, for men have been
looking up to and following that style of man since before the
days of Saul.
He was a pioneer on the Golden Coast, one of the first.
It was naturally so, for had any started before him, he would
have passed them and led them in. He early made a name in
California. Readers will have already recognized how per
fectly in place he must have been in a Democratic convention,
and how natural it was when he arose in a convention and said
"Mr. Speaker?" for the presiding officer to recognize him, and
for the full convention to see him.
After a while he was elected sheriff of El Dorado County.
With all his plunging ways, he had a profound respect for law,
and for any sworn officer to betray or fail in his trust, he held
to be the unpardonable sin.
In the early days on the west coast people had not much
patience with criminals, and as they had to rely a good deal
upon themselves, executions were sometimes summary. There
was a tree outside of Placerville — in those days, called Hang-
town — a live oak, if I remember correctly, upon the branches
of which tree it was said that some thirteen or fourteen men

COLONEL DAVID T. BUEL. 133
had suffered as Absolom did — they were caught in the branches
and their mules walked out from under them.
A man charged with some crime was in the jail, which
was not a very secure structure. Col. Buel had but a few days
before qualified as sheriff. He was called to a distant part of
the county and was returning. He was resting for a few min
utes at a wayside station, twelve miles from Placerville. From
the station there was a grade up the mountain for three miles,
then the path descended gradually into Placerville. The colonel
always rode a thoroughbred horse, and it was more to rest the
horse than himself that he had stopped at the station, for he
and the horse were close friends.
While there a messenger clashed up on a foaming horse,
sprang to the ground and handed the colonel a letter. It was
from one of his deputies, and stated tersely that there would be
an attempt that night to take the prisoner from the jail and
lynch him.
The colonel crushed the letter in his hand, thrust it into
his pocket and called sharply for a bucket of water and a bottle
of whiskey. He broke off the neck of the bottle, poured half
its contents into the water, then held the bucket up to the horse,
which eagerly drank its contents. Rubbing his hand over the
face and nose of the horse, and calling him by his name, said,
"Come," and started with his long strides, like a gray wolf's
lope, up the steep grade, the horse following like a dog close
behind. Reaching the summit he sprang upon the back of the horse
and gave him the rein.
When he reached Placerville, the night had come down,
the crowd already had taken the prisoner to the fatal tree and
had a rope around his neck.
Buel rode straight to the crowd, sprang from the horse
and began to force his way through the excited mass toward
the prisoner, the horse following at his heels.
Twenty revolvers were drawn on Buel, and he was sternly
ordered back on pain of death. But he continued to force his
way, crying to those around him : "Don't be inhuman, men.
The man may have a last message to send or a prayer to offer."

134 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Through his tremendous strength and determination he quickly
reached the man, with his knife cut the rope from his neck,
then, seizing the man, threw him upon the horse's back, struck
the horse's flank, with the flat of his hand and bade the man
ride for his life.
Then, turning to the crowd, he denounced them as
cowards and law-breakers, and declared them all under arrest.
There were hot words and many threats for five minutes ;
then the mad-men realized that they had all been baffled by
one man who was not afraid, and one of the bunch proposed
three cheers for the new sheriff. Then, I am told, they
made a night of it and that the sheriff went along to see that
order was kept. He got back his horse in a day or two, but
the prisoner was never seen in that region again.
Of course, Colonel Buel went with the crowd to the Com
stock. In the ten years in California he had learned much
about mining and mine formations and was a practical expert.
He visited all the camps in the state, but finally decided
that for him the neighborhood of Austin was better than that
about the Comstock. The leads were narrower, but the ore
was richer and the competition less.
From Austin, he went off south, with a company, on a
prospecting trip and wore out his shoes. One of the boys found
a dead ox on the desert; from its hide he cut two pieces, bent
up the edges, attached some buckskin strings and tendered them
to the colonel for sandals. He put them on ; they worked all
right. On reaching Austin there was a call for money for
the sanitary fund.
The colonel was a red-hot Democrat, but the cry appealed
to him. He put up his sandals at auction. He called attention
to the value of the sandals, pointed out their length and depth
and breath and beam, and asked for bids. One man offered
a dollar, another a dollar and a half, but the bidding was slow.
The colonel bid twenty dollars, then upbraided the crowd, told
them the money was for sick and wounded soldiers and put up
the sandals again. The result was they brought $916.00.
At last he drifted down to Belmont and bonded one of
the mines there. He took the bond and the needed data,

COLONEL DAVID T. BUEL. 135
went to England and sold it, realizing a little fortune from
the sale. Then he determined to make a run over to Paris and see
the sights for a week. It was not long after Napoleon III and
Eugenie were married, and all Paris was rejoicing.
In his youth the colonel's study of French had been at best
most superficial, there was not a word in the language that he
could pronounce correctly. But, by the show bills that were
hung out with their pictures and by the preparations he saw
going on, he knew a great horse race was going to be run,
so he followed the crowd to the track. The seats were all
occupied except those in one special stand. He noticed that
over this stand were flying many gay flags. It was carpeted
and supplied with easy chairs. He immediately took posses
sion of one of these chairs on a long row of seats. Soon an
officer rode up, saluted and delivered a brief oration, of which
the colonel did not understand a word. But he bowed politely
to the officer and thanked him, but kept his seat. The officer
seemed much perplexed, and finally turned his horse and rode
away. Then an officer covered with decorations rode up,
curtly saluted, and in a most impressive tone explained some
thing to the colonel, upon hearing which he bowed profoundly,
told the officer that he was greatly obliged, pointed to a seat
beside him and in pantomime invited the officer to occupy it.
The officer was wild, and was just entering upon a most
vehement speech when a trumpet sounded and a carriage and
four, superbly caparisoned and attended by a glittering array
of mounted outriders, drove up and the emperor and empress
alighted and entered the stand. The officer, with extravagant
gesticulations, explained something to the emperor, who turned
and glanced at Colonel Buel, then with a smile, bade the officer
let the elongated American alone. And the colonel watched
the races from the royal stand.
The colonel was one of the pioneers of Eureka, Nevada.
He and his associates obtained a working bond on the Eureka
Con. ; built the furnaces and worked them successfully ; thor
oughly opened the mines, when they sold out at a large
advance to an English company. It would have been better

136 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
for them had the sale fallen through, for the mines paid
$1,000,000 per annum dividends for fifteen years.
The colonel removed to Salt Lake and operated mines in
Utah and in Nevada- for several years, then went to Joplin,
Missouri, and worked for awhile until finally, overborne by a
life filled with hardships, died in St. Louis some eighteen or
twenty years ago.
He was one of the most typical of frontiersmen. No
undertaking was too hazardous to make him quail, though
when he was prosperous nothing was too good for him. He
slept on the ground in every county in California; he slept on
the banks of the Fraser River when the rain that was falling
was half ice; the sagebrush of Nevada made a good enough
bed for him, and the simple food of the miner was a feast for
him when he was prospecting, but in town he insisted upon
the best, his ideas being that the man who did not get the finest
that could be procured every day was discounting his own
rights. He was honest in business and would throw any one who
deceived him or played false, through a window on land, over
board at sea. He was an intense American ; he was public-
spirited; he wanted to see the foremost of other countries
made second-class by comparison with his own ; he was sensi
tive of his own honor and had any man maligned a friend of
his in his presence he would have broken him in two. He
passed a stormy, restless, laborious career ; all his aspirations
were high and true, and he prized his individual honor more
than he did his life.

WILLIAM H. CLAGGET.
I HEARD of Billie Clagget first about 1864 as a bright
lawyer and marvelous orator of Humboldt county. An
old California friend who lived in Humboldt county, but
who was making a brief business visit to Virginia City, said
to me : "We have a young man out in Humboldt whom you
are going to hear about one of these days. He is the son of
the famous Judge Clagget of Iowa, splendidly grounded in
the law, but it is as a speaker that he is going to win. When
he talks he is sometimes a whole orchestra playing, sometimes
just a great baritone chanting a battle hymn with organ accom
paniment." After a while we all knew him better. After Nevada was
admitted into the Union his business often called him before
the supreme court at Carson City. About 1866 he was a can
didate for Congress, but so many of us had made pledges to
help friends who were candidates that we had to beat him in
convention, and have been grieving over it ever since.
The man nominated was a lawyer and in broad experience
the superior of Clagget, but none of us loved him so much.
Had any one else been defeated on that day we would all have
forgotten it, but when Clagget's defeat is thought of a feeling
of sorrow is awakened yet in the hearts of the very few who
are left of that convention.
I suspect it was that faculty of winning the sympathy for
the cause he advocated, that gave the chiefest charm to his
eloquence. He was a fine lawyer and natural great orator, but he
never made a masterful success because of certain idiosyncra-
cies of his mind.
For instance, his idea of his own political sagacity in the
handling of a campaign was like Richelieu's idea of his own
poetry. He thought it the clearest evidence of his genius; it
was his utter weakness.
10

138 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
An ordinary ward politician could beat all his combina
tions and shiver to atoms his most cherished plans.
He was often the same way about business matters. I
remember that on one occasion he was sanguine that he had
secured the key which was going to make him a millionaire.
He explained it to me. He told me of the hundreds of thou
sands of acres of worn-out lands that were in the state of Vir
ginia alone. He further explained that the land was not really
worn out, but that because of the steady rotation of one crop
certain of the original elements of the soil had been leached out
or exhausted, that the alkali soil in places in Nevada possessed
those very elements, and that with the alkali soil for a fertilizer
the lands which were now practically almost valueless, would
increase in value four or five hundred per cent.
I asked him how much of the fertilizer he proposed to
apply to the acre. He replied, "Oh, some hundreds of pounds,
you know, it will cost nothing here in Nevada."
"But," I asked, "how much will the freight upon it be
from Nevada to Virginia?"
He had never thought of that.
He practiced law for a good many years and held his place
up in the front rank of the marvelous bar of that state, but his
charm was his eloquence. He had every attribute of an orator.
His voice was glorious, there was a grace in every movement
that was an enchantment and his mind was so equipped that
he could draw his illustrations from every mine of knowledge.
On the rostrum he was perfectly at home, while before a great,
cheering crowd, one watching him thought instinctively of
Job's war horse, "whose neck was clothed with thunder" and
"saith among the trumpets, Ha, Ha ; and he smelleth the battle
afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting."
After a while he left Nevada and settled in Montana, when
it was a territory. There the people sent him as a delegate to
Congress. But a delegate from a territory has not much chance.
He is expected to talk very little, save on questions pertaining
to his own territory, and it must have been a torture to Clagget
to listen in half-enforced silence as chump after chump, in a

WILLIAM H. CLAGGET. 139
lumbering way, discussed themes which they but half under
stood and to which they could lend no inspiration.
After a while Clagget visited Salt Lake and because of
illness in his family remained in that city several months — the
greater part of one winter.
Toward spring he told me one day that he was going to
Oregon. I asked him if he believed that was a good state for
a lawyer, whereupon he confided to me that he did not care
about practicing law any more, but added : "I have money
enough to buy 160 acres of land in Oregon and fix myself
comfortably. I intend to plant 100 acres of the land to apples.
There is no such country for apples as Oregon. I shall plant
100 trees to the acre, plant them wide apart, so they will have
plenty of sunlight. After eight years they will bring me net
$10 to the tree. There is never any failure of crops there. Ten
dollars to the tree will give me $1,000 per acre, and 100 acres
will make my income $100,000 per annum, and that is as good
to a prudent man as a million." It was a good thought.
I saw him three or four years later and he told me the
climate of the Willamette valley was too damp for him, that it
gave him rheumatism, and that he had made his home in Idaho.
Two or three years later he was a candidate for United
States senator, and when the legislature met it was expected
that he would be elected. The late O. J. Salisbury of Salt Lake
City, who was very fond of him, went to Boise to help him.
He returned after two or three weeks and told me that it
was no use ; that Clagget had a plan which he was sure would
win and would take no advice from friends, and added the
belief that he would be defeated, or if elected it would be in
spite of Clagget's management. He was defeated and two or
three years later died. The greatest sorrow that his death
caused his friends was the thought that he died without ever
having found the place where what was greatest in him could
be made clear. What was masterful and grand in him seemed
always under the domination of that part of his brain that was
not infrequently weak. Men with half his legal learning ; not
half his scholarship, possessing not one tithe of his eloquence,
have made for themselves immortal names.

WILLIAM M. STEWART.
HE WAS six feet two inches in height, his natural weight
in early manhood was about 210 pounds, which, with
age increased to 250 pounds. He had a great wealth
of reddish-brown hair, with immense whiskers and mustache
of the same hue; his eyes, I think, were gray, but under any
light except sunlight, they seemed to be black. He had fine
hands and feet, and was a most impressive-looking man.
He had, too, a bearing like that of a lion when he stalks
up and down his cage and dreams of his days in the jungle
when he was lord of all.
He was born a little east of Rochester, New York, in
AVayne county, and grew up on a farm. He received a fair
education and studied law. But he did not know law enough
to hurt, until after he reached California.
When the news reached the east of the gold discoveries
in the far west, he only waited to have the news confirmed, and
then, going west, bought four or five yoke of oxen and a
wagon, loaded what stores he thought he would need, and
drove his oxen into California. No man from Pike county,
Missouri, could excel him in manipulating an ox team.
When he sold his outfit, bought a few books and opened
a law office in Nevada City, California, those who had seen
him navigate his "prairie schooner" and oxen, resented the
change and gave gloomy forecasts of the future of an accom
plished "bull-whacker" trying to be a lawyer.
But Stewart was never sensitive and was always san
guine, and worked on the theory that a man who possessed
the neeeded qualifications to successfully engineer an ox team
across the continent might, if he tried, succeed in other fields
of effort. He grew in his profession from the first. If, now and
then, he received a metaphorical black eye from some giant
at the bar like Colonel E. D. Baker or General Charles H,

WILLIAM M. STEWART. 141
Williams, he was not discouraged, neither did he sulk in
his tent, but went to work to fit himself to meet a like attack
in future, and reasoned that after a while there would be no
attacks that he could not parry.
It is told that when the original James Gordon Bennett
had a street scrap in New York, and got the worst of it; he
quietlv went to a pump on the street corner, washed the blood
from his face and eyes, then sat down on the curb, and wrote
a picturesque account of the collision for publication in his
own paper, declaring, with proper journalistic alertness, that he
did not intend to permit the Tribune to get a scoop.
Our idea is that Stewart would have done the same thing
under like circumstances.
His practice in California oscillated between Nevada
county and Sierra county, Nevada City and Downieville being
the respective county seats.
He had sharp competition. There were Thornton, Taylor,
Meredith, Dunn, Campbell, McConnell and a score more, and
important cases drew from Marysville and Sacramento their
ablest attorneys, and many of them were giants.
The resourcefulness of Stewart was something wonder
ful. Then, as said above, he was not sensitive, neither was he
sentimental, and his nature all his life was to conquer any
difficulty that he met.
He commenced the construction of a fine house in Nevada
City. Asked what he wanted of so pretentious a structure, he
replied that the finest girl in all the Golden West had consented
to marry him, and on a certain date he was going to San
Francisco to get her to come up and put the house in order.
At the appointed time he left for San Francisco. He
called upon the lady — she was a most splendid woman — and
told her he had come for her. Then, in the most delicate and
pleading words she could master, she told him that she had
thought that she loved him and meant to marry him, but that
she had met another, and from that hour she had known that
it would be wrong for her to marry any other man.
Stewart made no comment, uttered no reproach, expressed
no sorrow, but merelv asked the name of the favored man.

142 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
The lady told him, he bade her good-bye and went back to
his hotel. Soon, ex-Senator Foote — formerly of Mississippi,
came in, and seeing Stewart, asked him to take a drink. Stew
art acquiesced, then asked Foote to drink, and they made a
night of it and all the next day, and part of the second night.
They had reached the limit and were lying side by side on
the floor of Stewart's room, when Foote said :
"Stewart, you are a northern man ; your political princi
ples are a disgrace to the world, but personally I like you
exceedingly, and it will be a pleasure to me at any and all
times to serve you personally."
"You can do me a great favor right now," said Stewart.
"I want your permission to ask your daughter Annie to be
my wife." "Well," said Foote, "as I told you, your political princi
ples are a disgrace, but you are clever, and I never go back on
my word, suh. Go and see and if you can fix up things with
Annie all right. She might do worse."
Stewart straightened up as rapidly as he could, and when
fully himself, he called upon the young lady and asked her
to be his wife. She wanted a little time to consider the matter,
but Stewart insisted that every day she would be considering
would be a day lost for them both, and he carried his point.
Within a week they were married. Stewart carried his bride
triumphantly home and it was a long time before Nevada City
people new that Mrs. Stewart was not the lady that he had all
the time expected to marry.
By the way, the other lady married the man of her choice.
The pair moved to Virginia City just about the time that Mr.
and Mrs. Stewart moved there, and the two men were rivals
professionally and politically for years, Stewart winning more
than half the honors professionally and all the honors polit
ically. But the other was the abler lawyer.
The Comstock was just the field for William M. Stewart.
The laws governing mining titles at the time were confused
and often of doubtful construction ; the titles sometimes over
laid each other three times on the same ground, the courts
were presided over in great part by judges who in the east had

WILLIAM M. STEWART. 143
been given appointments because of political services rendered
congressmen; the majority of them knew little of the science
of the law and nothing at all of the complications they would
meet in the west ; many of them were as corrupt as they were
stupid ; there were witnesses who could be educated ; there were
jurors who were not there because of the climate ; tremendous
sums were often at stake, and fortunes were made or lost on the
determination of a case.
In such a field William M. Stewart was entirely at home ;
the forces around him were such as he loved to ride and control.
Then he was, personally, much liked by the stormy crowds
that surged up and down the great lode. He was generous,
never apparently caring for money, a host was always ready
to back him, and he had a courage that never failed him in or
out of court.
Much more profound lawyers than he thundered against
him, and made arguments which before a great judge would
have carried absolute conviction, but Stewart was never fazed ;
he could appeal to juries and to those chumps of judges suc
cessfully, when his case had been torn to shreds, and in a thou
sand adroit ways baffle all legitimate conclusions.
He made a great fortune between the time of the finding
of the Comstock and the creation of the state of Nevada, and
then was in such a position that it was conceded on all sides
that he would be one of the first United States senators.
He was elected almost without opposition.
In the senate his first work was to frame a bill defining
how quartz veins should be located, their extent, and what the
location should include, pushed it through both houses and
never rested until he had obtained the president's signature.
For that service he is entitled to the gratitude of every mining
man in the nation.
He performed much other splendid work for his constitu
ents and for the west, and was one of the bulwarks of his party
in the senate on all the questions that were sprung in recon
struction days. He was a stalwart of stalwarts. Grant leaned
on him, so did Conkling, Chandler, Carpenter — all of them.
He maintained his place as one of the foremost senators

144 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
until the silver question assumed an acute stage. So sanguine
was he in the righteousness of the silver cause that he believed
he could carry the senate his way. He did not realize that the
cards were all stacked against him and when finally told by a
friend that he was fighting a hopeless battle, he replied: "I
may not convince them, but I can make the situation almighty
disagreeable for them."
At last, when he began to speak on that theme, senators,
one by one, would get up and leave the hall. The gold press,
too, assailed him with anathemas and ridicule, but neither
senators nor newspapers could answer his arguments, and they
are more pertinent today than when delivered.
Mr. Stewart left the senate after serving two terms, was
re-elected in 1885, and served two terms more.
Filled with his old farmer memories, he went over into
Virginia, bought a farm and started a dairy. But it was not
a financial success. When his last term in the senate expired
he returned to Nevada, built a fine house in Bullfrog and
opened a law office and remained there two years until the
titles in Goldfield and adjacent camps were pretty well set
tled. He then returned to Washington and made that city his
home until in about 1908 he suddenly died.
He was one of the most extraordinary men who ever lifted
his head above the level in California and Nevada ; one of the
most forceful personalities in the nation.
He had fine legal abilities, though not of the highest, but
he was one of the most successful lawyers that the west ever
knew. His executive abilities were wonderful. He would have
made a superb state governor, a broad, enlightened president
of a continental railroad company, and a much more able pres
ident of the United States than either of several who have been
presidents. In preparing a case for trial not one detail was omitted
to insure success; in framing up a political campaign he was
the same way.
He liked to make money, but he cared little for it, and
rich men received no consideration from him on account
of their wealth.

WILLIAM M. STEWART. 145
When one very rich man was in much trouble he sent for
Stewart to help him out.
Stewart said : "I will do what I can for you, but I don't
like your tone. You have been a d — d old fool, but now brace
up and take your medicine."
He was hearty and strong to the very last, and did not
mind a champagne dinner that lasted all night. He should
have lived, many years longer.
For some ailment he submitted to a petty operation, and
died next day. My belief is that he died from the effects of
the anesthetic administered to him.
He was not only a great man, but one of the very truest of
friends. His loyalty to his friends was one of the very finest
of his manifold attributes. He would not permit any one to
assail a friend of his in the friend's absence.
He early clashed with President Cleveland, most naturally
on the silver question. Shortly after the inauguration of Pres
ident McKinley, he came west. I asked him if the change of
presidents would make any difference in the status of silver in
Washington. He thought it would not. I said, "The change
of presidents then is not much more than a change of men ?"
He replied : "That is about all except that the man who is
now president is a gentleman."
He made "The House of Stewart" a great house.

"RED" FRANK WHEELER.
THERE were two prominent Wheelers in Nevada, one
was dark and swarthy with intensely black eyes and
hair; the other was light with reddish brown hair and
blue eyes. Being in the same town, they were soon designated
"Red Frank" and "Black Frank."
"Red" Frank, when I met him first, had a saloon and eat
ing house combined in Hamilton, Nevada. Moreover, it was
a central station for business men, prominent miners and
strangers to congregate.
It was natural, too, for "Red" Frank Wheeler was both a
genius and master spirit among men. He kept an eating house
and saloon because he was not very rich, but many a duller
man has been given high places and earned for himself high
honors. But "Red" Frank did not care for honors. His theory
was that a man should get all the good he could out of life
every day, for there was no certainty for the morrow.
That winter of 1868-69 was a tough one in Hamilton;
there were many poor men there; many in want. Hon. P. C
Hyman was mayor, and he had an understanding with Wheeler
that his orders for meals would be honored at half price, and
the poor were fed.
Then the smallpox broke out and became epidemic ; more
over, there was a great deal of pneumonia, and men do not
last long with pneumonia at an altitude of 8,500 feet above the
sea. The calls for help were incessant, but they were promptly
met. In this work "Red" Frank led.
One night about 10 p. m., just as the mayor was about to
retire, there was a knock on the door. He opened the door
and there stood "Red" Frank.
"AVhat is it, Frank?" asked the mayor.
"A fine mayor you are," was the reply. "Fine care you
are taking of the city, and the reputation of your friends."
"What's the matter with you?" asked the mayor.
"You had better ask," said Frank. "You know there are

"RED" FRANK WHEELER. 147
some boxes piled outside my place. Well, next door a man died
of smallpox this evening; his friends stole enough of my boxes
to make a coffin, then returned the boxes in the form of a
coffin and piled them on the other boxes."
"Well, what have I to do with that?" asked the mayor.
"Oh, yes;" said Frank, "of course you are innocent, but
have you not the care of the smallpox patients ?"
"Suppose I have, how am I concerned if men steal your
boxes ?" asked the mayor.
"But they have brought back the boxes," said Frank.
"Very well, what is your growl now?" asked the mayor.
"Why, of course, nothing," said Frank, "only the man
who was a smallpox patient this afternoon is in the box and
my customers swear that it is no good sign for a first-class
hostlery. "But what could I do, at this time of night?" asked the
mayor. "You can come and help me!" was Frank's answer.
"Everybody is panicky. You and myself must see to this
funeral." The mayor put on his hat and coat. They two took the
coffin and carried it down to near the Big Smoky mill, when
they met a man with a team. They told him what they wanted,
but when he learned of what the man had died, whipped up
his horses and drove away.
"Red" Frank looked as he disappeared and then said :
"Mr. Mayor, that man ought to start a dairy !"
"I give it up," said the mayor, "what's the joke?"
"Why, is not his breast running over with the milk of
human kindness?" was Frank's answer.
They picked up the rude casket and carried it a little way,
when they met another team. They told the driver ; he swung
his team around and said : "Put the box on the sled and
jump on yourselves !" He drove them to the cemetery. There
they found picks and spades, shoveled the snow away, and
sunk a grave. The ground was frozen more than two feet deep,
but they persevered, finished the grave, dropped the box into it
and filled it up, and as they returned to town the east was

148 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
beginning to shoot up the first signals of approaching dawn.
As they were about to separate, Frank said : "Mr. Mayor,
if you won't say anything about this I won't; you have done
so many mean things that no one will believe you if you do
tell; but, honest, I did not want that sign out on my boxes
when morning came."
Frank was careless about taking care of his money, and
one night, to scare him into more careful habits, some friends
went to his bed, woke him up and told him the safe had been
robbed. He looked very grave for a minute, then turning to his
clerk — who had just come on watch, asked how much money
belonging to outside people was in the safe. The clerk replied,
"Between fifteen and sixteen thousand dollars."
Then Frank's face relaxed and he said : "Never mind, I
have enough to make that good." He was not thinking of his
own loss, but of those who had deposited money in his safe.
Before going to Hamilton, Frank had lived long in Austin,
Nevada, and knew everyone in eastern Nevada.
So, when J. P. Jones became a candidate for senator in
1872, Frank went to Gold Hill to look after his campaign.
In a brief time the candidate became wonderfully attached
to Frank, and when elected senator still kept him in his employ.
Frank went as a delegate to the Republican national con
vention at Cincinnati, which nominated Hayes and Wheeler.
Frank originally was an Ohio man and knew Cincinnati as well
as he did Virginia City. He happened to stop at the same
hotel that the candidate for vice president did. At night after
the nominations, a brass band came around to serenade the can
didate. The two gentlemen had rooms on different streets and
the serenading part}' got on Frank's side and played "Hail to
the Chief." Frank had not retired, and while the band was
playing some instinct told him that it was a mistake, so when
the crowd began to shout "AA'heeler, Wheeler!" he stepped out
upon the balcony and was greeted by a storm of cheers. Then
a sudden silence fell and Frank, knowing what was expected,
rose to the occasion with :
"Gentlemen and fellow citizens! I thank you sincerely for

"RED" FRANK WHEELER. 14l)
this great honor, but I hold it as not intended for me, but for
tlie great office for which the convention today named me.
"But the nomination already has brought a burden upon
'me, not that I fear defeat, for when I run for office I am
always elected. But the whisper is already in my ear : "Can
you fill the expectations of your countrymen when elected."
"Your visit tonight encourages me, for what American
can fail when his arms are upheld by the confidence and sup
port of his fellow-countrymen ?
"Our country has been torn by a terrible war, and since
its thunders died away it has been tossed as is a great ship
when, in the midst of furious seas, the winds are suddenly laid,
and the ship loses steerage way and rolls and wallows in the
confused waste of waves. But, gentlemen, I have a happy pre
monition that when the great soldier statesman named today
for president is elected an era of peace will follow. I need
not tell you that if I shall be elected vice president, I shall so
preside over the senate that I hope the entire senate will agree
that in whatever else I may fail, I have known no north, no
south, no east, no west, in my rulings.
"Thanking you once more for this high compliment and
with a prayer that the wounds of our country may soon be all
healed, I bid you a happy good night."
Returning to Nevada, Frank was asked about his speech
when he replied : "It was a great speech under the circum
stances, but the newspaper cut out nearly all the telling points
that I made, and the landlord of the hotel doubled my bill after
he read it."
When asked if it was true that the band played a funeral
march as they retired, he answered : "You cannot tell what
those Dutch in Cincinnati are going to do until they do it."
After a while Frank's health began to fail. He had been
burning life's candle at both ends for many years.
At last he called upon two eminent physicians in San
Francisco and asked them to look him over. They did so, and
then asked him about his habits of life for the previous ten or
fifteen years. He answered them frankly, keeping back nothing.

150 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Then one of them said : "If that is true we can save you
some suffering, but we cannot long keep you alive."
"I knew it," said Frank. "I knew it when I came to see
you. I was only curious to see if you gentlemen were well up
in your profession."
A little later he could no longer leave his bed. Then he
sent for his great friend, "Red" Davis, and said to him: "Did
we not make a compact once in Austin?" Davis answered
"Yes." "What was it?" asked Frank. Davis replied. "That
whichever of us was called first, the other should see that he
had a gentleman's funeral, even if he had to beg, borrow or
steal the money.
"Correct," said Frank, "I shall need your services sooner
than you think."
"Oh, you will be all right in a few days, do not talk about
quitting," said Davis.
Then Frank said : "You don't know much, old friend,
"My constitution was gone years ago. Since then I have been
living on the by-laws, and they are beyond amendment now."
A few days later he died. An hour before his death Davis
called to see him. He was conscious, but could not articulate.
He made a feeble motion which the nurse could not under
stand, but Davis did, and said to the nurse : "He wants a
toddy." The nurse made the toddy and held it to his lips, but
Frank feebly shook his head, looking at Davis. Then Davis
said : "He wants me to have one.-"
The nurse made a second one and gave it to Davis, then
held the first one to Frank's lips. AA'ith the ghost of a smile
he drank, and a few minutes later ceased to live.
He was careless of himself. He might have made a great
name, but lie was indifferent to all that. He worked hard, his
whole life's pathway was lined with good deeds and he died
as he had lived, without reproach, without fear.

JAMES W. NYE.
HE AA^AS not an Argonaut; not even a Nevada pioneer,
but came by appointment as governor of Nevada when
the territory was carved out of western Utah. But he
would have been a marked addition, had he joined the first
company of forty-niners.
He was New York born and bred ; grew up in poverty ;
studied law, practiced law in all the courts; was always a suc
cess, and at home among every class of people, from the fire
jackie of New York City to the President of the United States ;
from Captain Jim of the Washoe Tribe to Abraham Lincoln ;
and on the rostrum, from a bunch of cowboys to the Senate
of the United States. He was nearly sixty years of age when
he reached Nevada. He was given a public reception and when
it was over the verdict was that he would do. About five feet
ten inches in height and massive, weighing about 200 pounds ;
small and high-born feet and hands, and with about the hand
somest, most expressive face that was ever given a man.
His eyes were coal black, but they were dancing eyes, like
those of Sisyphus, and snow-white hair down upon his shoul
ders, like Henry Ward Beecher's. In repose his face was most
striking, but the play of his features was wonderful ; every
emotion found expression in his face. Had he chosen an
actor's career, I am sure that he would have stood first among
actors in his generation in all roles from Falstaff to Macbeth ;
though he would have failed, probably, in Shylock, for when
Bassanio and Antonio failed to pav, he would have hunted
up the latter and said, "Brace up, Tony; if you need a little
ready money, while I have none myself, I will send you to a
man who has plenty and whom I think vou can work for a
loan." He was one of the most intense of Americans, and had
the full courage of his convictions. Had trouble come in
Nevada as was predicted and threatened in the early sixties,
Governor Nye would have been what Governor Morton was

152 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
in Indiana. On the rostrum he was a very glory of the earth,
for he was familiar with every phase of human nature ; it was
impossible to take him by surprise; it was a delight to have
someone interrupt him and hear him flash back a reply that
settled the question. He was making a speech in Eureka,
Nevada, one night after the war closed, and reconstruction
had not quite run its unfortunate course.
He was saying that the men of the South were our broth
ers; that they had got off wrong; that many of them were still
angry, but he was looking forward to the day which he
believed was coming soon, when their old devotion would come
back, and through their generous natures again fully awak
ened would be once more as they were at Buena Vista,
when the struggle was to see which state could honor most the
land which the fathers had bequeathed to us. Just then Major
McCoy, who was a Mexican war veteran, but who in the
great war had been so fierce a secessionist that when the con
federacy collapsed he had expatriated himself and gone to
Mexico to remain there some years, interrupted with the ques
tion : "Senator, if those are your sentiments, why are you so
loath to giving Southern men full official recognition?"
The old jolly look came over Nye's face, and he said:
"When I was a boy I was walking one very cold winter day
from Bridgeport, on Oneida Lake, to Syracuse, when, hearing
sleighbells coming rapidly, I stepped out into the snow to let
the sleigh pass. It proved to be a fancy New York cutter
drawn by a span of perfectly matched Black Hawk horses.
The trappings on the horses were silver-plated ; the cutter was
filled with fine robes and was driven by a middle-aged man.
As the rig flashed by me it was, to my eyes, a vision of beauty.
The man saw me and as soon as he could pull up the team
— the morning was frosty and the steppers were pushing the
bits hard — called to me to come quick and get in. I ran and
climbed in, the man holding the team steady with one hand and
with the other tucked me all up with one robe and then drew
a second robe over my lap and I knew I had struck a bonanza.
"By this time the Hawks were fairly flying — you know
they can only strike about a three-minute clip, but can keep

JAMES W. NYE. 153
it up all day. The man was talking low to them and I know
now that they were making his arms ache. This went on for
about fifteen minutes. I was snug and warm under the robes,
when I looked up at the man and proposed that he give me
the reins, telling him that I knew lots about horses. He
glanced clown at me and said : "My boy, when you grow wise
you will know more than you do now and will learn that an
invitation to ride does not carry with it any obligation to let you
drive." The major asked no more questions.
Just after the war he was making a speech. The pas
sions of all men were strung to their utmost tension in those
clays, and he was explaining all that was being done to recon
struct the south, when some one in the audience said, "But,
senator, the war is over."
He made two strides forward on the stage and with eyes
blazing, thundered : "Yes ; but for an original unrepentant
rebel there is no cure save through death; no justification save
through ages of hell fire."
But he did not mean it. Hearing that a confederate offi
cer who was a close friend of one of his own friends, was in
prison in Fort Lafayette, under a charge that, when captured, he
was within the federal lines as a spy, Nye first went to Presi
dent Lincoln and obtained a pardon for the man, then went up
to Fort Lafayette, got the man released, advised him to quietly
take the first steamer for California, then to go to Nevada ;
gave him a list of names of good fellows out there, put a
roll of $1,200 greenbacks in his hand and bade him good-bye.
He explained later that the greenbacks were worth only forty-
seven cents on the dollar, so he was not out much.
He and the late Senator Stewart were the first senators
from Nevada to Washington. Nye's seat was next to that of
Senator Sumner of Massachusetts.
They became warm personal friends, for as Nye said :
"Sumner meant well, even if he did not know much." He
said when he first took his seat, Sumner looked down upon him
from an infinite height and said, with all dignity : "Good morn
ing, Senator Nye." "Good morning," Senator Sumner," was
the reply. In the course of a few days Sumner began to relax
11

154 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
and one morning said : "Good morning, Mr. Nye." And Nye,
responding, said: "Good morning, Mr. Sumner." "After
about a month," said Nye, "I went in one morning and Sumner
said : 'Good morning, James,' and I said : 'Charlie, my boy,
how are you?' "
The second year Nye was in the Senate a furious debate
was sprung on some question of the management of the war,
and one senator grossly criticised President Lincoln. When
the speech was finished, Nye sprang to his feet, and for twenty
minutes held the Senate spellbound. The burden of the speech
was to picture the mighty burdens under which the patient
president was staggering and the cowardice of senators who, in
such a crisis, instead of holding up his hands, would add to
these burdens. Nye had a private key to a side-door in the
White House, and went there nights to "swap stories" with
Lincoln. Nye received a letter one day, informing him that a bri
gade of New York soldiers, stationed at some point in Arkan
sas or Missouri, had been overlooked and were suffering for
food and clothing-. Next morning he called at the war office
and sent in his card to Secretary Stanton. He told me that
he wrote under his name — the only time he ever did it in his
life — "U. S. Senator." He was shown in. Stanton was stand
ing behind a little counter, and as Nye approached, Stanton
said curtly: "What can I do for you, sir?" Nye presented the
letter and asked the secretary to read it. Stanton glanced over
it hastily, and pushing it back, said sharply : "I have no time
for these little things." "AVill you please take the time, sir?"
said Nye. Then Stanton said hotly : "Do you know who you
are talking to, sir?" Nye stepped up close to the counter and,
holding out one finger, said : "You will change that tone of
yours right quick or you will know very soon who you are
talking to." "Then," said Nye, "we glared at each other for
a second or two, and then Stanton opened a little door in the
counter and said politely : 'Walk in, Senator Nye,' and we had
everything fixed in five minutes." He added: "Something
about the incident seemed to please the clerks within hearing
a good deal."

JAMES W. NYE. 155
One day in the Senate Sumner made one of his mean
speeches, asserting that no great race had ever sprung from
below latitude 37.40. As Sumner sat down Nye arose, and,
being instantly recognized, explained that he would take but a
moment of the time of the Senate, that he desired only to call
attention to the unfortunate fact that the learned senator from
Massachusetts had not lived prior to the coming of our Savior,
because, had he done so, when the Messiah came to give in
structions to his disciples he would have said : "Go ye forth
and preach the gospel to all peoples, nations and tongues, north
of 37.40," and sat down.
Sumner turned to him and said : "There is no argument
in that." To which Nye responded : "Of course not. There
was not a trace of sense in what you said."
Nye had the scriptures at his finger ends. In the hot
campaign of 1868 the national committees sent Nye up to a
town in Connecticut to make a Republican speech. He
reached the place about noon. The local committee met and
welcomed him, but explained that it would be useless to try
to have a political meeting, that the whole region thereabouts
had gone wild over a religious revival, that they were holding
services day and night and that the work of grace was doing
wonders. Nye told them that he was glad of it, that he did not want
to make a political speech, but would like to attend their after
noon meeting, adding that while not a member of any church,
he had a Christian mother, and if he might be allowed to speak
for a few minutes he believed he might interest the children.
This was hailed with delight, and when the great congre
gation had assembled in a grove in the open air, the head
deacon explained to the audience that a rare treat was in
store for them, that the great "gray eagle, Senator Nye" of
Nevada was present; that while not a professed Christian he
was brought up under Christian auspices and had kindly con
sented to address the congregation. Nye was then presented
and turned that sovereign face of his upon the audience. His
own account was like this :
"I looked them over a minute and they became very still.

156 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Then, as impressively as I could, I repeated the twenty-third
Psalm, beginning, 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not
want.' Then I gave them a few flirts from Job and a couple
of rib-roasters from Isaiah, and in fifteen minutes I was giving
them as robust a Republican speech as they ever heard. I held
them for two hours, and when I closed I noticed an old girl
who was sitting in the front row wiping her eyes, and could not
help hearing her say : 'The gentleman may not be a profes
sor, but nothing can convince me that he is not full of saving
grace.' "
It was a custom in mining towns for merchants to keep
.donkeys, so when an outside miner bought a bill of goods, they ,
were packed on a donkey, the miner led him to his cabin,
unloaded the pack and turned the donkey loose. The wise
creature would at once return to town.
Nye was speaking in Austin, Nevada, one of those match
less Nevada summer nights, and everybody was out to hear-
him. He had hardly got under way when a donkey started
around the crowd on a fast trot, braying as though his heart
was breaking. It seemed as though he would never stop, and
when he did, the echoes came back almost as distinct and loud
from old Mount Toyabe, and, of course, the audience was con
vulsed. It was ten minutes before the tumult was settled.
Then Nye, stretching out his hand, said : "Ladies and gentle
men, that does not disturb me in the least. I have never tried
to make a Republican speech in Nevada that the opposition
have not trotted out their best speakers to try and down me."
Senator Nye was called upon once to address a gathering
of Sunday school children. The burden of his talk was that
the utmost care should be taken to see that children receive
upon their plastic hearts only good impressions, so lasting
were they. To accentuate his words he drew a fifty-cent piece
from his pocket, held it before the children, and told them that
when a small boy that silver piece had been given him by the
great Daniel AArebster, that foremost of statesmen.
Then he told them that since then he had often been hun
gry, often cold, for in childhood he had not sufficient clothing
for a New York winter ; often he had seen dainties which he

JAMES W. NYE. 157
coveted, but that nothing could ever induce him to part with
that silver, for it had been held in the hand of the matchless
Webster, and by that hand given to him. By this time he was
overcome with emotion, and was crying, and so were half the
women and children before him.
When he finished and was retiring from the hall a friend
said to him: "Senator, where did you get that half dollar?"
"Got it from a bootblack this morning," was the reply.
He was riding on the cars in Central New York one
morning when he saw an old man in another seat whose face
seemed familiar. Fie studied the face for several minutes,
when a leaf of memory turned in his brain, and, going over
and sitting down by the old man, he said : "Is not your name
Baxter?" The man said it was.
'Well," said Nye, "do you remember that a little after
daylight one November morning some forty-five years ago you
' took into your house a fourteen-year-old boy who had been
walking on the tow-path of the canal all night; took him in,
gave him a hot breakfast — sausage and eggs and buckwheat
cakes and honey, pumpkin-pie and coffee ; how your wife gave
him a pair of shoes and stockings, a muffler for his neck and
mittens, and when he went away filled his pockets with Rhode
Island Greening apples, doughnuts, gingerbread and cheese?"
The old man said he did recall something of the kind.
'Well, I was that boy," said Nye, "and I wanted to ask if
your wife was still spared to you, and if all was well with you."
The man replied that his wife was still with him, but that
he had been unfortunate ; that he was forced some years before
to mortgage their little farm for $800 ; that now, with interest,
costs and lawyers' fees the debt amounted to within a few dol
lars of $1,400 ; that the sheriff would sell the place at noon that
day at Little Falls ; that he was on the way to see who bid it
in and to see if he could get a lease from the buyer so that his
wife would not be forced to give up her old home. Then the
old man burst into tears. Nye told him that he was a lawyer ;
that he, too, was going to Little Falls, and would accompany
him to the sale ; that he might help him in fixing up the papers.
They went to the sale together. Nye found out the exact

158 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
amount of the mortgage and costs, bid in the property, had
the sheriff make out the deed in Baxter's wife's name, paid
the money, placed the deed in the old man's hands and told him
to go home and tell his wife that the home would always be
hers. He further told him that really the money had cost him
nothing, that it was a fee a client, one King Faro, had paid him
for a trifling service.
The old man was overcome and asked Nye where he could
be found. Nye told him in the Senate chamber at Washing
ton. Four weeks later the old man and his wife found him
in Washington, and Nye, speaking of it, said later: "If the
great bookkeeper up above saw that meeting, it's a twenty
dollar piece to a ducat that, with their gratitude, he balanced a
mighty tough column that he held in his ledger against me."
But this is growing too long. With the most character
istic story of Nye ever told, we will close.
He went to Europe one summer late in the sixties, and
went as far as Constantinople. He wired the American min
ister there that he was coming. The minister informed the
Grand Vizier that a senator of the United States would, arrive
in the city that evening. He informed the Sultan and the
Sultan ordered a review of all the 30,000 soldiers in the city
the next day in his honor — those superb soldiers that stood off
Skobelorff so long at Plevna, a little later. We take up
the story as Nye told it : "They gave me a pure Arabian horse
to ride. You should have seen him. Eyes like an eagle's,
nostrils you could put your fist in, coat like velvet, and he felt
under you like steel springs, but still was biddable as a great,
good-natured, friendly Newfoundland dog. I rode him through
the review and divided honors with the Sultan. On dismount
ing I could not repress my admiration for the horse. The
interpreter explained what I had said to the Grand Vizier,
whereupon he made a very low salaam, saying something as he
bowed. The interpreter explained that his highness, the Grand
Vizier, begged to be accorded the honor of presenting the horse
to my excellency. I made a rapid calculation. I had not the
money to pay the freight on him; I could think of no one to
whom I might send for the freight money, and so I took high

JAMES W. NYE. 159
ground. I made a salaam that must have made the Grand
Vizier's look like an amateur's and bade that interpreter explain
to his highness how honored I would feel to receive so royal a
present, but that it was against the constitution and laws of
the great republic, my country, for a senator of the United
States to receive any present from any foreign prince, potentate
or power." A moment later, he said : "Why, do you know, had I
have had that freight money I would not have taken $2,000
for my chance on that horse?"
Nye was twelve years senator from Nevada, but was
defeated in the election of 1878. He left San Francisco on
the steamer, apparently well, but after arriving home he was
found wandering daft in the streets of Richmond, Va. He
could not explain how he got there. He was taken to Bloom-
ingdale asylum, where he died a few months later.

JOHN W. MACKAY.
WHEN I heard the news of the death of Mr. Mackay
I thought instinctively of the old Persian legend,
and said to myself : "Had he died in a deep wil
derness, as did the old king, all the lions in the forest would
have assembled, the strongest and stateliest of them would
have taken up their stations around him and held ward and
watch until men came to bear the body away for sepulchre,
for the instinct that a masterful soul had fled would have come
to the forest and its sovereigns would have gathered to guard
the dust which had been that soul's tabernacle."
When the soul of Abraham Lincoln took its flight, the
light shining back from it caused the children of men all around
the world to stop in awe, and the men of his own race through
their tears to see how dimmed had been their eyes, how feeble
their comprehension of the man of sorrows who had been their
President. But Mr. Mackay had been but an humble citizen. No
official honors had any lure for him ; he had never sought any
notoriety and to the world at large he went to his grave merely
as one of the world's rich men, though the highest in the land,
east and west, had besought him to accept a United States
senatorship. Only a few of us who had found out his real nature know
his sterling worth, the motives that guided his life, the real
nature of his high soul, and the splendor of his character.
He was five feet ten inches in height, weighed one hundred
and sixty-five pounds, his eyes were blue-gray, his hair brown,
his complexion ruddy — that ruddiness that comes where the
warm air blowing across the Gulf stream keeps Erin perpetu
ally green. I never saw him show anything like exultation
over being rich, but once, and that was but a flash of his eyes.
In the winter of 1876-7 the famine was sore in Ireland. I
mentioned it in his presence one day. He said, "Yes," but
added : "There are a good many poor people right here, but

JOHN W. MACKAY. 161
vou may thank God that none of them are either cold or
hungry."
AA'e did not know the truth until later, and found it out
then by accident. In the previous October all the southeast
half of Virginia City was destroyed by fire, including the Con
Cal Virginia and other hoisting works, offices, etc. In the
crisis of the fire, when the miners were dynamiting the houses
on the west side of D street, and filling the shafts to a depth
of thirty feet to where the cages had been lowered, with bags
of sand, and covering the floors of the hoisting works around
the cages with sand two or three feet deep and Mr. Mackay
was everywhere directing the work, a devout old Irish lady
approached him and said : "Oh, Mr. Mackay, the church is
on fire !" All the answer that he vouchsafed was, "D — n the
church, we can build another if we can keep the fire from
going down these shafts !"
The old lady went away shocked, but next morning Mr.
Mackay called upon Father — later Bishop Monogue and said :
"There is a good deal of suffering here, Father. If I try to
help personally I shall be caught by two or three grafters and
then will be liable to insult some worthy men and women. I
turn the business over to you and your lieutenants. Do it
thoroughly, and when you need help draw upon me and keep
drawing." In the next three months Father Monogue drew
upon him for $150,000, and every draft was honored on sight,
and the old Irish lady saw, besides, a church grow out of the
embers of the old one, and it was larger and more beautiful
than the one that had been destroyed.
After Mr. Mackay made his first little fortune, he lost
$300,000 in an Idaho mine. No one knew it but himself, but
he told me long after that he lost that money just when he
could not afford to do so, and, while he was counted rich, as
riches were rated then, he was struggling under a heavy load.
His firm was trying to get control of a mine that Mr. Sharon
wanted the control of, and one day they clashed in the branch
California bank of which Mr. Sharon was manager. Sharon
was a small man, and all the last years of his life in delicate
health. But he was hot tempered, and when angry did not

162 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
care what he said. On this occasion he was standing behind
the rail which shut off the public, and Mr. Mackay stood out
side. The contrast between the men was most marked ; Sharon
was small, pale and frail, Mackay in the flush of perfect man
hood, erect, compact, alert and with the easy bearing of a wary
tiger in captivity. The dispute grew sharper and sharper
until at last Sharon told Mackay that if he did not go slow he
would make him pack his blankets out of Virginia City. Mac
kay flushed red, his hands opening and shutting for an instant
and then he controlled himself and in a husky voice and with
the stammer which always came to him when angry, said:
"You will ? Very well, I will still have a mighty sight the best
of you: I can do it."
But some months later, as Mackay came down town one
morning he met Billie Wood, one of the bank attorneys, who
asked him how things were going with him. "I must have
$60,000 today or lose stocks which in three months would make
me twenty times $60,000." "Come up to my office," said
Wood, "and tell us about it." They went to the office, which
was over the bank, where Sunderland, the partner of Wood,
was. Wood explained to Sunderland the situation and Sunder
land made a memorandum of the stock, and saying "Wait here
a few minutes, Mackay," went out. He returned within ten
minutes with a note and a check on the bank for a like amount,
and, laying the two papers down, said, "Sign the note, Mr.
Mackay, and at your convenience leave the stocks in the bank.''
Mackay glanced at the check and saw that it was the per
sonal check of Sharon.
"Did Sharon do this?" asked Mackay. "Yes, he was glad
to do you the favor," replied Sunderland ; "and let me give you
a little advice. You and Sharon are both too hot-tempered
to quarrel with each other. When you both feel like fighting
at the same time, separate and fight outsiders."
But there was no more disposition on Mackay's part to
fight Sharon, and when Sharon later was in real trouble, Mac
kay was as a brother to him.
In his younger clays, Mackay had much repute as an
athlete and boxer. One day when the Bonanza was at its best,

JOHN. W. MACKAY. 163
he asked R. M. Daggett and myself to go down in the mine
with him. He sent the message by Colonel Obiston, who was
then superintendent of the Gould and Curry — one of the Bo
nanza firm's mines. Fie said to Obiston : "Those fellows up in
the print shop think I get my money easy. I want to show
them." We went down into the mine and began to explore it. But
Daggett was fat and not much accustomed to exercise, and
fifteen minutes of going up and clown ladders and into hot
drifts was enough for him. He found where an air pipe was
supplying the mine with air, sat down in front of it and
declared that he had no interest in examining mines that he
did not own personally, and making $7,000 reports of them for
nothing, especially for people who kept their mines as hot as
that was. It must not be forgotten that in a hot summer day,
after an hour's visit to a lower level of the Comstock, on ascend
ing, as the cage emerges from the shaft the summer air strikes
one like a plunge into a cold bath. On that day, after going
the rounds, we were hoisted out of the mine and went to the
dressing room to throw off the mining suits, bathe and resume
our own clothing. When Mackay had thrown off the gray
shirt he "put up his props" before Daggett, in challenge for a
boxing match. Daggett cried out. "Wait until I am ready, and
"I will lay on for Tusculum ;
Do thou lay on for Rome."
But a moment later he said : "On second thought I
decline. When I become excited I strike too terrible a blow,
and you are poor and have a family to support."
While in the mine that day, Daggett asked Mr. Mackay
how much money he had, and he replied : "I have twelve
millions of dollars now and believe I have yet twenty-five years
of good work in me." Fie died almost exactly twenty-five
years later.
But, speaking of his fondness for athletic sports, I suspect
he was more responsible for the career of Jim Corbett than any
one else. After the Bonanza days, Corbett was a clerk in the

164 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Nevada bank in San Francisco. For exercise the clerks had
fixed a little gymnasium in the basement of the bank. Mackay
often went down to watch the young men in their exercise. He
noticed the wonderful quickness and precision of Corbett.
Many young Englishmen who went to San Francisco car
ried letters to Mr. Mackay. They were often fresh from
Oxford or Cambridge, and their talk naturally drifted to ath
letics. Then Mackay would tell them that there was a boy in
the bank who was right handy, and if they expressed any
desire to meet him, he would be called from his work and go to
the basement, and it was with grim humor that Mackay would
watch Corbett "do them up."
He had another kind of humor. One day the boys were
down in the Con Virginia office fixing up a slate for candi
dates for city offices. While thus engaged, Mr. Mackay swung
around in his chair and asked, "What are you going to do for
Jasen Baldwin?" (Baldwin was bright and shrewd and win-'
some, but there was a loose pulley somewhere in his brain; he
lacked application and thrift.)
Colonel Osbiston replied that Baldwin wanted to run for
constable, but he had no money. Then Mackay said : "Send
him down here. I will give him $500. If we do not get him
an office we will have to fix a place for him and he is not a
first-class worker."
Osbiston soon found him and said : "Baldwin, why do
you not run for constable?"
"Because I have not a cent to treat the boys," was the
reply. "How much do you need ?" asked Osbiston.
"I need two hundred and fifty dollars," said Baldwin.
"Well," said Osbiston, "go down and Mr. Mackay will
give it to you."
"Yes, he will; he will fire me out of the office," said
Baldwin. "No, it will be all, right, I know," said Osbiston.
Baldwin thought it over and then went down, walked up
to the rail and said to the secretary: ""Will you inform Mr.

JOHN. AY MACKAY. 165
Mackay that Mr. Baldwin is here and would like a brief inter-
view r
He was shown in and said : "Mr. Mackay, I want to bor
row two hundred and fifty dollars."
"You want to borrow it? What is your security?" asked
Mr. Mackay. "The security is a little thin, but there is no end of it,"
said Baldwin. "You would give your note, would you not?" asked the
Bonanza king.
"Oh, yes," said Baldwin.
Mr. Mackay turned to his desk, made out a note, filled in
a check and pushing both papers across to Baldwin, said :
"Sign the note, Baldwin, and there is your money."
Baldwin picked up a pen and signed the note, when Mac
kay said, "Had you not better read that note before you
sign it ?"
Baldwin held it up and read aloud : "On demand, for
value received, I promise to pay to the order of John W.
Mackay two hundred and fifty dollars with interest at the rate
of five per cent per day until paid." Dropping the paper, he
turned to Mackay and said : "Mr. Mackay, make it five hun
dred dollars, and put the interest at 10 per cent per minute!"
In Bonanza days the men- were paid in coin. A window
was opened in the secretary's office. Before it was a table on
which there were several tills, such as are used in banks, and
filled with twenty-dollar pieces, twenty in each column, making
$400 as in all western banks, and a great heap of silver coins
in the center of the table. As each miner came to the window
and gave his name, a clerk would name the amount clue him,
and another clerk would pay in gold and silver.
One pay day, when this was going on, Mr. Mackay was
sitting inside the rail in conversation with a San Francisco
gentleman who had expressed a desire to see how the men
were paid off.
Looking up, Mr. Mackay saw an old Irish lady bending
over the rail. He arose, went to her and heard her begin to
say, "O Mr. Mackay, we are very poor — " then he broke away.

166 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
went to the table, picked up three of the $400 rolls, returned
and said low to her, "Hold up your apron." When she did, he
dropped the money into it and said, "Go right away now,
please. I am very busy."
When the great actor, Adams, returned, dying, from Aus
tralia to San Francisco, he started out and went from theatre
to theatre, trying to secure an engagement. But every man
ager saw how feeble he was, that he could not bear up under
the strain of a single play, and put him off with one or another
excuse. He returned to his room exhausted and almost broken
hearted. This was long before bonanza days and before any
of the Bonanza firm was rich. Adams had been obliged to
take to his bed immediately on reaching his room. As he lay
there ill almost unto death and in despair, suddenly, without a
knock, the door opened and Mr. Mackay entered softly. He
greeted Adams cordially, talked hopefully to him, telling him
that he knew that in a few days he would be his old self again,
keeping up the talk for several minutes, when, rising, said
he must go, but added : "Adams, you do not seem to be lying
comfortably," and bending over him put one arm under his
shoulders, raised him up, and, with the other hand, rearranged
his pillows, then, laying him down, said he would see him again
very soon and left the room. A little later, the colored man
who was waiting on Adams asked to help him to a near-by
lounge, that he might make his bed for the night. This was
done, but when he turned the pillows back he said : "Why,
Mr. Adams, here's a letter." Adams opened it and read
the following :
"My Dear Adams : I have long owed you a great debt
for the pleasure you have given me by your fine performances.
I am sure you will not be offended if I begin to pay you in
installments, of which I enclose the first one.
"Sincerely your friend,
"J. W. Mackay."
With the letter was a check for $2,000, and it was never
known until McCullough, the actor, told it at a banquet in New
York. And he added, the tears streaming down his cheeks

JOHN. W. MACKAY. 167
as he spoke : "We found the letter under Adams' pillow when,
a few weeks later, he died."
The hardest trial that Mr. Mackay ever passed through
in the business world, the one that most clearly revealed the
tenacity of the man and made clearest his integrity of purpose,
came to him after he thought his fortune was secure.
When the founding of the Nevada Bank was being con
sidered, Mr. Mackay had said, "Go ahead if you think best,
but do not bother me with the business ; that is altogether out
of my line, unless you get to advancing money on mining
stocks, then I shall want to know what you are doing. The
bank was started, also the branch bank in Virginia City. It
will be remembered that in the winter and spring of 1884 or
1885, a series of great rains and floods swept the whole south
ern country from San Francisco and Los Angeles clear across
the country to Galveston. The Southern Pacific railroad was
the greatest sufferer from the storms. One morning in San
Francisco Mr. Flood, president of the Nevada Bank, met Mr.
Charles Crocker. They stopped on the sidewalk, but after a
moment Flood said to Crocker : "You seem to be cast down
this morning. Anything special the matter?"
Crocker replied: "I am about ready to give up." Then
he explained that the road was washed out in a hundred places ;
that cars with costly merchandise were strung all the way from
San Francisco to El Paso, and the amount of money needed
to put the road in repair was appalling. "How much money
is needed ?" asked Flood. "I am afraid to say," was Crocker's
reply. "The best way to meet trouble is to look it squarely in the
face," said Flood. "Tell me how much money you require."
Crocker answered : "I think $5,000,000." "Well," said
Flood, "make out a note and have Governor Stanford sign it
with you, and the bank will cash it."
But the cashier of the bank, a young man, was furious
about it. He declared that no bank had any right to loan
$5,000,000 on any two men's signatures, no matter whom
they might be.
Some months later, Mr. Flood was confined by illness to

168 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
his home in San Mateo, and the bank was left in charge of
this same cashier.
About the same time, unconscious of any trouble, Mackay
sailed for Paris by London, to visit his family. Arriving in
London he called at the bank which was the London corre
spondent of the Nevada Bank. He was shown into the pres
ident's room and after a few minutes' conversation, the pres
ident said : "You are doing a heavy business in your San
Francisco bank, are you not?"
"Nothing unusual that I know of," was the reply. "AA nat
leads you to such a conclusion?"
"Why," said the president, "your bank's account is over
drawn with us more than £ 100,000."
Mackay turned over private securities which he was hold
ing in London, settled the overdraft, wired his wife that he was
obliged to return to America, took the next steamer and hurried
to San Francisco. A man had tried to corner the wheat mar
ket and had hypnotized this same cashier, and when Mr. Mac
kay reached San Francisco, he found that he had advanced
this wheat cornerer more than $30,000,000. The ships car
rying the grain were strung all the way from Port Costa to
Liverpool, and wheat was falling in price. He said he did not
know in that hour whether one cent of his fortune would be
left or not, or whether he would not also be in debt.
Sometime before Mr. Fair had withdrawn from the bank,
but that morning he entered the bank, walked up to Mr. Mac
kay, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said: "I hear
you are in some trouble, John. I sold a little railroad vester-
day, and have $3,000,000 over in another bank. If it will do
you any good, you are welcome to it."
They worked out, but Flood and Mackay lost $12,000,000.
Then Mr. Mackay said to Flood : "Don't be cast clown.
AA^e have lost a little money, but have a little left and we will
g-et along." But Mr. Flood never rallied from it, and died a
few months later.
In face and hand and foot, Mackay showed that he came
of gentle stock ; in natural bearing, he was imperious as a
Caesar, with the walk of a trained soldier, but it was onlv in his

JOHN. W. MACKAY. 169
bearing. As he mingled with men, there was not one look
or word or gesture that was not winsome, unless some base
nature crossed him.
Most men can bear misfortune. To toil and to be disap
pointed is so often the fate of men that it may be called the
rule. But when the wealth of a kingdom comes suddenly to a
man, then the manhood of the man is tried; then if aught of
vanity or false pride or love of power or display attaches to
him it comes at once to the surface, and its manifestation is a
trial to witness.
Mr. Mackay in youth started out with a fixed belief in the
omnipotence of labor. He believed it was capital enough for
any healthy man in this country. By nature he was impetu
ous, quick of temper, resolute, never asking odds, always ag
gressive, always borne up with a belief that he could fight his
way through, trusting only in his own brain and the physical
equipment which nature had given him.
After years of incessant labor, and all the hardships which
are inseparable from a miner's life, John AV Mackay awakened
one morning to find himself twenty times a millionaire.
He knew that mankind burned incense to success. He
knew that if desired all honors in the political world were open
to him ; that all social triumphs might be his ; but the thought
that controlled him was that wealth in this world is a trust ;
that the greater the wealth, the more exacting is the obligation
to use it righteously.
His former work had made him an "industrial king." He
had laid his hands upon the desert mountains of Nevada and
wrested from them vast treasures. His fortune was a crea
tion; so much added to the wealth of the world. Labor had
been his trust always ; he continued to work. He next laid
his hand upon the sea and stretched a cable beneath its storms
and its surges, a living wire, a right arm for commerce, a
link in the chain of peace. He supplemented this with a
telegraph service that controlled a continent; could his life
have been spared two years more, he would have completed a
"girdle round about the earth" which would have realized
12

170 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Puck's dream. He wore the harness of toil until the moment
that his final call came.
Though brave enough to have led McDonald's charge at
\Aragram with unblanched face, he was sensitive as a woman;
he loved passionately music and works of real art; though
through all. his youth his days were absorbed in a rough and
tumble fight with and against an iron fortune, he was perfectly
at home in the society of great men and accomplished women —
the unpretentious manhood of the man shone out everywhere.
Gifted pens have told of his achievements, but none have
or can give any clear idea of the man as he was; the alert
brain, the warm heart, the superb character that he bore; the
courage that no misfortune could daunt ; the soul so high that
there was never room for one trace of false pride.
His whole life was lined with unostentatious charities ; if
every generous act of his life could be converted into a flower
they would garland the mausoleum where he sleeps with a
glory never seen around a death couch before; if his impulses
in life could have taken material form they would have fallen
in benedictions upon every poor man's home, they would
have steadied the hands of every high officer of our govern
ment, for love of his adopted country and solicitude for its wel
fare and glory were with him grand passions.
Intense and strong as he was, after all his highest attri
bute was his affection for those he loved. He was never quite
himself after the death by accident of his eldest son. As one
after another of his old friends fell asleep, he grieved for them
as for brothers dead.
But he kept right on with his duties. He was always
ready if summoned to his final account to say to the judgment
angel, "I began with nothing. I gained many millions, but I
kept my hands clean ; look at them in this clearer light and see
if they carry one stain."
The world has never seen a manlier man than John AV.
Mackay. If good deeds count for so much as a feather, if
they took form beyond this life and became his pillow, his
final couch is softer than down, and his last sleep is curtained
in everlasting peace.

CLARENCE KING.
WHEN I met Clarence King, he was most considerate,
kind and companionable. There was not a trace of
self-consciousness about him, but merely a genial
recognition of a fellowman — the air of one who as men
measure men — knowing that he was learned and gifted, never
forgot that real men are men, and that brilliant accomplish
ments in this world are at best but a mastering of the alpha
bet of real learning — that the exhaustless fields are beyond.
There was a courtesy and refinement about Mr. King which to
me seemed inborn, and which I never fully understood until I
learned that when a baby of a year old his father died and that
thereafter his gifted mother devoted her life to her boy's edu
cation and training. When I read that, I said to myself, "Why,
of course it was the character of his mother shining out
through the son."
He was the same in a mining camp, in the private office
of hard-headed financiers or at a reunion of college boys. His
audience was always puzzled to quite analyze him.
The truth was that he was a child of nature; the great
mountains were more real company for him than either men or
men-made books, though he was a scholar and loved his friends
exceedingly. He was drawn from his New England home by reading a
description of Mount Shasta, and never rested until he had
found that majestic mountain and climbed it. Then at its
base he found a stream of water which by its color he believed
had come from a glacier, and when assured by the highest
geological authority that there were no glaciers on Shasta, he
still had his convictions, and after years of exploration he
found the glaciers on the sullen mountain's flank. He had a
memory that never left him in the lurch ; he was so brave that
he could perform feats that other men shuddered even to con
template ; he kept his heart always open to every cry for help ;
his knowledge was most profound, but to the last he was

172 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
simple-hearted and eager to learn, and every phenomenon of
nature was, when he found it, a joy to him. I can imagine him
and John Muir walking side by side all day over Yosemite
trails and hardly speaking, and then at night see them enthu
siastic over the great day they had enjoyed.
He grew to be a great geologist on the west coast and was
more and more absorbed in the study up to the day of his
death. We say grew to be, because that exactly expresses the
fact. In a suit between two warring mining companies in
Eureka, Nevada, he gave his expert testimony. In another
case some years later, where the same formation was a ques
tion Mr. King was called upon again and reversed his previous
opinions. When his former testimony was shown him and he
was asked to explain the discrepancies between his statements,
he frankly admitted that his first testimony was delivered upon
superficial knowledge, stating why he was deceived at first and
how a new light had come to him.
The air was filled with whispers of combines to defraud,
bribery, double-dealing, perjury and all the sinister accompani
ments ; but there was not a thought on either side that ex
pressed would have cast so much as a shadow on the stainless
shield of Clarence King's integrity. He explored almost every
defile, climbed to the summit of every western mountain
and lifted the veil from every desert of the west, but we feel
sure that only his over-mastering love of nature held him up to
the work, for he was naturally refined and loved all refine
ments; he loved the society of the gifted, accomplished and
learned ; everything that was exquisite in art and literature ; he
loved, too, the comforts that come of richly furnished houses,
delicate food, soft beds, rare books and pictures, trained
service ; and the highest society held him as foremost guest.
But with all these, I suspect he would periodically have
broken away — he would have followed a cloud to mark the
changes of color that the sunbeams might paint upon it, or
would have followed the trail to some new mountain that he
had news of, or would have run away to the seashore to
interpret the voices of the waves as they came rolling in from
far-off lands.

CLARENCE KING. 173
"The call of the wild" was ever ringing in his soul. Fie
climbed Lassen's Peak one clay when the fog eight thousand
feet deep had laid its mantle on the hills of Lassen, Shasta and
Siskiyou counties, and all the Pitt River valley. It was just
after the first fall of snow in the early winter, and seen that
way a man's first impulse is to doff his hat as though in the
presence of Deity.
AVhen King reached the crest of Lassen's Peak — which is
a sovereign mountain itself — there, eighty miles away, the six
thousand feet above the bank of fog, stood Shasta, its crest
turned to purple and gold under the sunbeams, its sides white
under the new fallen snow, and he cried out : "What would
Ruskin say could he see this?"
Ruskin gave the world some glorified pictures of the Alps,
but never had seen an inspiration such as that would have
given him.
But we are not sure that King would not have achieved
more fame had he chosen a purely literary career. Sir Walter
Scott achieved immortality in weaving into simple stories,
colorless without, the pictures of Scotland's mountains and the
portrayals of Scotland's men and women, their looks and their
deeds. What might not Mr. King have achieved had he chosen to
portray the poetical side of the great west of America or of
the fairest of foreign lands !
Under his mother's care he wrote beautifully when but
fifteen years of age. What might he not have done with his later
knowledge and experience in the clearer light that had come
to him? For he knew how the mountains had been framed;
how the glaciers were started in their flow; the ages of the
rocks; and had translated their heiroglyphics into written
languages. However distracted he may have been in other
directions, he was always in accord with nature. Then his
taste was so perfect, his wit so exquisite, his power of descrip
tion so unequaled; his use of language so inimitable — for he
never lacked the exact word needed — his observation so all-
embracing that he never missed a detail — like a woman who at
a glance can take in every detail of a sister woman's attire as

174 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
they pass on the street — what might he not have produced in
a literary way?
Then he could master a strange tongue in a month and
so all literature would have been at, his command in its original
form and expression.
And he could in a moment ingratiate himself into any
company, a band of cowboys in the west or an array of artists
or scientists or writers in London or Paris, or had he been
captured by cannibals, they would not have eaten him, but
would have adopted him and within a week would have ten
dered him his choice of their prettiest dusky maidens for a wife.
And still, after a hard day's work, or an evening spent
with artists, brilliant men and women, to rest himself so that
he might sleep, he was prone to solve some abstruse problem
in mathematics or clear up from his field notes some doubts
as to rock formations.
The service he performed for his country in his reports
of his studies of the great west, are invaluable and the work
performed in getting together his data was something pro
digious. Still as a simple man was he greatest, the every-day man,
manly everywhere, manly without a shade of false pride in
his nature ; the man at home everywhere, the man who held
all other honest men as good as himself ; one who would have
taken a friend from the gutter and nursed him back to health
and hope, but would not have taken the hand of a Caesar had
that Cassar been unworthy — the centuries may not produce his
fellow, so versatile was he, so all-encompassing was his mind,
so royal his heart, so exalted his character.
Those who knew him best loved him most, and when he
died, beyond the passionate grief that followed him to the
grave, was a vast regret that he had never given full expres
sion to the real height and depth of his nature, and that the
world would never realize how altogether great and splendid
a man he was, or how much the world lost when he died.

JUDGE B. C. WHITMAN.
SO FAR as I could ever see, there was not one flaw in the
character of Judge Whitman. A gentleman, a gentle
man always ; educated, refined, so exalted in his integrity
that it was never questioned ; the most devoted father and hus
band ; the most considerate of the faults of others ; mingling
with all that throng on the Comstock in the first wild days in
perfect accord, and still making it absolutely clear that he had
nothing in common with anything coarse or rude or unclean,
he was to men what the Gulf stream is to the common waters
of the sea, moving amid it with a current distinctly its own,
fed by a different fountain, bound on a separate voyage, utterly
unlike in temperature, and pursuing a different course.
He was always genial and gentle; he loved his friends,
loved to associate with his fellow men; he had an exquisite
sense of humor, and still he always gave me the. impression
that he would have been perfectly at home in some great insti
tution where only high thoughts were permitted, only classic
language spoken.
He practiced law many years in Virginia City in those
years when gladiators in the profession met in the arena and
fought to the limit, and held his own there.
No spoken nor mental reproaches ever followed Judge
Whitman out of court. The thought was : "Whether right or
wrong, he thinks he is right."
When elected to the supreme bench, and he took his seat,
it seemed to those who watched as though the seat had been
long waiting for him, so natural was it to think of him as a
judge. I do not think he was as profound a lawyer as Judge
Mesick, or C. J. Hellyer or General Charles H. Williams, but
he was great enough to have the perfect confidence of the
whole bar, not only in his absolute integrity, but in his knowl
edge and his utter absence of prejudice.
Outside of his profession he was a most valued citizen.

176 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
He was a massive man physically and intellectually; he had
most pronounced opinions on all subjects relating to the gov
ernment and country; he could express them without offense
and in a way to influence those who heard him. And so he
moved, an example of high manhood and of exalted patriotism
all his days.
In those first days on the Comstock, when the clouds of
the dreadful war gathered and broke in their fury, the bar of
Virginia City was about equally divided between northern and
southern men, and sectional differences between them were
bitter in the extreme.
These had been nursed during the five preceding years in
California after the Democratic party had divided and the
tattered remnants of the old Whig party had been picked up
and woven into the Republican fabric.
This had been greatly intensified by the death of Brod
erick and Ferguson in California ; their friends declaring, in
their sorrow and wrath, that they had been slain to get them out
of the way, the friends of Terry and Penn Johnson insisting
that both had acknowledged the code and that they were fairly
killed. For many months the dropping of a match would have
kindled a civil war. Among these contending forces Judge
Whitman moved with his life-long serenity, and though as
fixed in his convictions as any of them, and as perfectly under
stood, his presence made for order and for law, not only
among the men who were prominent, but among their respec
tive followers. It was natural, too, for to have assailed him
would have been like knocking the scales from the hands of
Justice or bespattering the white robes of Peace.
The influence for good of such a man cannot be estimated.
As the years move on he gains in his influence, and it is more
difficult for men to do unmanly things when they meet such
a man every day.
AVhen Judge Whitman left the supreme bench the Com
stock was going into temporary borasco, and he removed to
San Francisco and resumed the practice of law there, which
he pursued for a few years until one evening he went into one

JUDGE B. C. WHITMAN. 177
of the gentlemen's clubs in the city and feeling drowsy laid
down upon a lounge. Soon after he lost consciousness and a
little later died.
It is a welcome memory that when his call came it was
without pain and that death to him was but passing from a
troubled sleep into the sleep of everlasting peace.
In life his was as nearly a perfect character as I ever met.
Men can live calm lives in a cloister ; if their lives are ab
solutely devoted to the service of God, many men can live
blameless lives ; but Judge AVhitman assumed all a man's duties
as husband, father, citizen, and fought for a place and name
against all the sharp competitions necessary to forge out un
aided his way, and so did his work that there was not a stain
on his character, not a reproach attaching to his high soul to
the last. He was the highest possible type of man, and those who
revered him most were those who understood him best; those
who loved him best were those who had been closest to him in
their relations.
To his family he was at once a king and a guardian angel.
He was in the sharp contests of business, and every night
emerged from the fiery furnace as did the three — no smell of
fire upon him.

JAMES G. FAIR.
ABOUT five feet eight inches in height, weighing, say
210 pounds, massive every way; a sovereign head; a
splendid face ; a soft voice ; a winsome personality — a
tiger satisfied in captivity and inclined to purr, and seldom "to
unsheath from his cushioned feet his curving claws." A master
mechanic who could do anything in iron and steel, a perfect
judge of any kind of machinery; a brain in which everything
was reduced to perfect order; one of the very shrewdest of
financiers; a mind that could reason from cause to effect with
lightning-like rapidity and perfect certainty, and from early
childhood more interested in the affairs of James G. Fair than
of any other soul on earth. From childhood he knew, what so
few men ever learn, the exact value of a dollar, and was strong
enough when his fortune climbed into the millions, never to
forget the unit and what it was worth.
Early in California quartz veins had the greatest attrac
tion for him. If a vein assayed $7 per ton, and if 80 per cent
of the value could be saved, that meant $5.60. If that could
be mined and reduced for $2 per ton there would be $3.60
saved, and one hundred tons per day would mean a saving of
$360, and that would be newly-created wealth. If 85 per cent
could be extracted and the cost reduced 50 cents per ton, then
the profit could be $4.45 per ton or $450 per day. How to
perfect machinery to save a higher percentage from the assay
value, and how to adjust machinery and labor to reduce the
cost of working, were his studies for years in the Golden State.
From it one can readily see how well prepared he was to wres
tle with the problems that the Comstock presented. I believe it
is fair to say that the Wheeler grinding and amalgamating
pan was the most important adjunct in the working of Com
stock ores in the first twenty years in which those ores were
worked. Mr. Fair always claimed that every feature of the
pan was his original idea.
He went to the Comstock as a machinist, but in California

JAMES G. FAIR. 179
he had given much study to ore presentations and in a brief
time he understood perfectly, both the formation of the great
lode and its peculiarities, for all great mines have habits of
their own.
When the mining stock board was established in San
Francisco, and the dealing in stocks became the great feature
of that city, no one understood better than Mr. Fair its possi
bilities. In the meantime he had learned to know John W.
Mackay well and both knew Flood and O'Brien in San Fran
cisco, and a combine was made. The San Francisco firm had
some means and when from the Comstock word was sent to
buy or sell stocks, 'or to buy on a margin or to sell short, Flood
responded, and a good deal of money was made. They soon
became a factor ; then they began to get control of certain of
the mines ; they made one diversion and lost $300,000 in a
Silver City, Idaho, mine, and thereafter clung with more ten
acity to the great vein under Mount Davidson. By 1870 they
had obtained control of the California and Con. Virginia,
Best and Belcher, and Gould and Curry, all adjoining. Their
hope was 'to explore the old workings of the California and
Con. Virginia, believing that a good deal of money could be
made from low-grade ores that had been left in the stopes, as
the cost of reduction and transportation had been much re
duced. They worked with but indifferent success for six
months, when one evening Mr. Fair met Captain McKay, who
long had been in charge of the Gould and Curry, before the
Bonanza firm obtained possession. Captain McKay was a fine
geologist and scholar generally, besides being a perfect miner.
McKay said to Fair : "Why do you not go to the bottom
of the Gould and Curry shaft and drift north? The shaft is
1,200 feet deep; a tunnel north from it would be below all the
workings of the Best and Belcher, the Con. Virginia and Cali
fornia ; it would be in virgin ground, and if there are any deep
ore bodies on the fissure, the outcrop of which was the surface
ore body of the Mexican and Ophir, by the dip of the vein
you ought to strike them."
"I don't think there is anything in it," was Uncle Jimmie's
reply, but that night three shifts of men were set to work at

180 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
the bottom of the Curry shaft, drifting north. It was all
blasting rock; when broken the debris had to be run back
to the Curry shaft, hoisted 1,200 feet and run out on the
dump. It required a good deal of nerve and a great deal
of money, but it was pushed out through the north end
of the Curry, 150 feet, through the Best and Belcher 750
feet and 150 feet into the south end of the Con. Virginia,
when the great bonanza was struck about 30 feet below its
apex. Had the shaft been only 1,100 instead of 1,200 feet
deep, the drift would have passed over it and it might have
remained undiscovered still.
When I left Virginia City it had yielded $119,000,000 and
had paid in dividends $67,000,000. Of course Uncle Jimmie
made some millions from it, but it did not change him, rather
it made him as the boys on the Comstock said, more so. The
anecdotes of him were numberless. When the big bonanza was
fully opened it was 400 feet wide in places and was laid off in
great galleries by wide drifts like the streets of a city.
It was intensely hot, and so the timbers — it required
3,000,000 feet per month for several years — became as dry as
tinder. A fire started in those depths would have made a
volcano in an hour.
Hence the strictest rules were enforced against every
thing that might start a fire. One rule forbade smoking. Uncle
Jimmie went clown in the mine one day, and going to one of
the stopes thought he detected the odor of tobacco smoke. He
said nothing, but went to other portions of the mine and in
half an hour returned. Sinking down on the floor of the drift
with a deep sigh he said, "I am surely growing old, a little run
through the mine tires me more than a day's work used to. I
think if I had a few puffs of a pipe it would refresh me
greatly." A dozen pipes were presented in a moment. Uncle
Jimmie took one, puffed away for a moment, then with many
thanks handed it back, saying that it had greatly revived him,
and went to the surface.
The next day, going down Taylor street toward the mine,
he met the whole shift of men going up the hill, "Why, how
is this?" said he; "I thought this was your shift."

JAMES G. FAIR. 181
One of them replied. "We have been laid off." "Laid
off?" said Fair. "That is John (Mackay). I never get a
crew of men that just suit me, that John doesn't discharge
them." And with a sigh he passed on. But the miners knew
better and called him names as they climbed the hill.
One day a gentleman from Boston with his wife and young
lady daughter called at the Con. Virginia office and the man
asked if it was possible to visit the lower levels of the mine. The
clerk called down to the lower shaft house, telling what was
wanted. The reply came back to send the strangers down
there at once. They put on the needed clothes and were shown
to the cage. The man at the engine was told to stop at 16.
When the party left the cage a miner received them and for
an hour or more showed them 'round, explaining what was
ore, what country rock, how ore was mined; how big mines
were timbered, all the time talking wisely of ore formations,
the working and ventilation and drainage of mines ; the pro
visions made for escape in case of a cave or a fire or other
accident. The party was charmed with the sturdy miner who
seemed so well informed and so affable. When they reached
the cage and were about to be hoisted from the depth, the
Boston man tendered the miner a bright new silver dollar.
The miner thanked him but declined the gift, remarking that
the company paid him for his time and it was easier to show
strangers around than to swing a pick.
"But," said the man, "this is for you personally." But
still the miner declined, saying that what he had done was
no trouble, but rather a pleasure.
But the Boston man persisted and said : "Now, tell me
honestly, my man, why you do not wish to take this dollar."
The miner sighed and said : "Well, one reason is that I
have $600,000 up in the bank and it has been bothering me all
the morning to decide how I had better invest it."
It was Uncle Jimmie and he smiled softly as the cage
shot up the shaft.
A man and his wife in San Francisco filed the papers in
a suit against Mr. Mackay, claiming heavy damage for seek-

182 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ing to alienate the affections of the wife from her husband.
It was a direct attempt at blackmail and Mackay never rested
until he landed both the man and his wife in the penitentiary.
But when the news of the filing of the suit reached Mackay
in Virginia, he was furious. No one had ever seen him so
angry before. He paced up and down the Con. -Virginia office
like a tiger and the old lines would have fitted him :
"We tore them limb from limb ;
And the hungriest lion doubted
'Ere he disputed with him."
The woman's given name was Amelia. Uncle Jimmie
went down to the office that morning, but seeing how the
atmosphere was he softly went out and started across the foot
bridge for the Ophir works. On the bridge he met a young
man and woman. The young woman stopped him and ex
plained that the young man was her brother; that he was a
splendid worker, and that they both needed what he could earn
and besought a place for him. Uncle Jimmie smiled down at
her and said, "My dear! John tends to all that, go to the
office. I just left him. Go and tell him what you have told
me, and tell him your name is Amelia and I am sure he will
give your brother a place!"
Fortunately they did not get to see Mr. Mackay that
morning. On one occasion Mr. Fair returned to Virginia after an
absence of a couple of months when a blacksmith presented
a bill for $80. Uncle Jimmie looked at it and said : "Eighty
dollars. What might this be for?"
The smith explained that it was for shoeing Mrs. Fair's
carriage horses, setting the tires on the carriage and — but
Uncle Jimmie interrupted him with : "That is all right, I was
not disputing your bill, but I am superintendent of four mines,
and the companies pay for all necessary work. Take the bill
home and bring me back four bills, against the four companies,
but not all quite alike. Make one for $22 to sundries against
the Con. Virginia, one for say $18 against the California; one
for $24 against the Curry and one for $16 against the Best

JAMES G. FAIR. 183
and Belcher, and I will try to get them allowed, though times
are hard." He went to San Francisco in 1879, called at some offices
on Montgomery street on business, and glancing around the
offices, thought he would like them. Fie knew who owned the
block and the agent in charge. ITe went to the agent and asked
if the people in the corner rooms had a lease of the rooms.
The agent replied that they merely paid from month to month.
"And how much might they be paying?" asked Uncle Jimmie.
The agent gave the figures. "Well," said Fair, "they would
be worth $100 per month more to me. Please give them notice
that you would like the rooms on the first of the month."
The agent replied that he could not do it, that the firm
occupying the rooms had been there two years, had paid the
rent every month promptly and he could not order them out.
'Won are right," said Fair, "you are doing just as I would
want you to, if you were my agent."
Three days later he met the agent again and said to him,
"You will kindly inform the tenants in that block that they
will have to vacate on the first, that the block has been sold."
"Sold?" cried the astonished agent, "to whom?"
"Oh," said Fair, "the owner wanted a little money more
than he did the block and I exchanged with him, but you are
still the agent, only after the first report to me please."
In the sixties, Mr. Fair, as he got up from the break
fast table one morning, said to his wife : "My dear, have you
any money?" Mrs. Fair replied that she had $7,000 in the
bank. By this time Uncle Jimmie had put on his hat, and
said : "Don't mention the matter to a soul, but I think there
are a few dollars in Curry," and went out.
Mrs. Fair thought the matter over for a few minutes.
Then she said to herself, "Surely there would be no harm in
letting my brother know," and crossed the street. Her brother
was away, but his wife was home and Mrs. Fair told her.
She had a brother and like Mrs. Fair, her thought was,
that there would be no harm in telling her brother. By noon
all Ireland in Virginia City was buying Curry and Uncle
Jimmie was unloading it upon them.

184 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
By the end of the week the stock had dropped out of sight
and in the Fair house there was a thunder cloud in every room.
As Uncle Jimmie rose from the breakfast table he said to his
wife : "My dear, did you not tell me that you had some money
in the bank?"
Here the storm broke. "I had $7,000 and it is all lost
in that old Curry," said Airs. Fair, and she burst into tears.
"My, my, but I am sorry," said Fair then with a deep
sigh, he went into his library and a moment later returned
with a check for $7,000. Handing it to his wife he sighed
again and said, "I will help you out this time, my clear, but I
fear you are not constituted just right to successfully deal in
stocks." While he was absent Mrs. Fair one clay told Mr. Mackay
that if her husband could go to the United States Senate it
would be a great thing for her children.
That was enough. Mr. Mackay had the machinery all in
order for his election when he returned, and he was elected.
It was a great misfortune. There was no more happiness in
the Fair family.
While he was senator I went to him and explained that
raw sulphur came into this country free, but there was a tariff
of $20 per ton on refined sulphur; that 3 per cent sulphur in
Sicily was being refined up to 97 per cent and then shipped in
as raw sulphur free, which kept the nearly pure sulphur depos
its in Utah from the market, because of the cost of transporta
tion, and asked him to see the secretary of the treasury and
have the duty applied to Sicilian sulphur. I had forgotten
that he had extensive refining works in San Francisco, and
that sulphur was an essential agent.
When I had made my plea, he sighed and replied: "I
will do everything I can for you, but I have three shiploads
of that Sicilian sulphur on the sea right now."
He continued to make a great deal of money up to his
death, some fifteen years ago, and died very rich.

ROLLIN M. DAGGETT.
NOT tall, about five feet eight inches in height, swarthy,
a remote strain of Iroquois in his veins, I think ; heavy
set, weighing close upon 200 pounds, a face full of
merriment generally, but savage as a trapped bear when he was
angry, a mind filled with all sorts of contrasts; a face and
voice and handclasp filled with magnetism — his like we shall
never look upon again. He was born somewhere in northern
New York, and in youth learned the compositors' trade and
obtained an academic schooling from the masters and the
books; a deeper training from nature, for the mountains, the
streams, the valleys, the forests were all open books to him,
and wind, sunbeam and storm all brought messages to him.
He went with the first argonauts to California, started
with nothing but a rifle, a blanket and a little knapsack con
taining his tooth-brush, his other shirt and a few indispensable
trinkets. He was a natural writer, an editor whose judgment
never erred. At first he engaged in placer mining and made
a stake, then he went to San Francisco and started the Golden
Era, a literary paper, the merits of which still linger in the
minds of the few old Cahfornians left on this side of the
Great Divide.
Whoever may have retained a file of that paper will by
running over it now, realize anew how strong was his pen;
how every impulse of his soul found expression in those col
umns. Late in the fifties he disposed of the paper and early
went to the Comstock and became associate editor with J. T.
Goodman on Mr. Goodman's Territorial Enterprise. Dan
DeQuille was already on the paper. That made three strong
men on the editorial staff which a little later was reinforced
by Mark Twain. The Enterprise was a great newspaper in
those days ; indeed, there was not a more brilliant journal any
where. It had to be, for at that time there were more brilliant
men in Virginia City than were ever seen in a town of that
size before. 13

186 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
On the Enterprise I got to know Daggett as well as any
one ever did, for there are not many secrets in an editorial
room between men who are in close rapport every day. Dag
gett at that time had been a journalist for twenty-five years,
and had grown a little lazy intellectually, but age had not
withered him nor custom staled his infinite variety or his infi
nite humor. He was not witty, but the drollest genius in the
world, and he had a way of mixing adjectives, never heard
before in conversation, and when a joks was perpetrated at his
expense, he would laugh until the tears ran down his cheeks.
I recall that one night when there was a company of gen
tlemen in our main working editorial room, he looked over
at me and asked me which syllable in some word ought to be
accented. I gave him my idea, whereupon he reached over,
took the big dictionary with both hands, lifting it in front of
him — he loved to make a dramatic display — and most impres
sively said : "I will see for myself. I would rather be right
than be President." I said gently to him : "AVe all feel that
way about you, Mr. Daggett." Whereupon he sprang up,
went to each gentleman in the room and asked for a gun, and
beseeching from all an opinion as to whether instant murder
would not be justified, under a provocation of that kind.
Elderly people will remember that when after the war as
the Southern States were restored to the Union, in some of
them rather tough legislatures were elected; that in those
clays General Sheridan had command of the Department of
the South and was stationed at New Orleans.
That one day he sent a dispatch to Washington declaring
that the legislature of Louisiana was made up of banditti and
asked for authority to dissolve it. The dispatch caused a tre
mendous excitement. Democratic legislatures all over the
country, and Democratic newspapers from Maine to Cali
fornia were fierce in their anathemas. At that time a gentle
man, whom we will call Snyder — only that was not his name —
was running an evening Democratic paper in Virginia City.
When the dispatch reached him he was furious and in an im
passioned editorial demanded a new rebellion, if that kind of
work was to be continued.

ROLLIN M. DAGGETT. 187
It was a cold winter night, and Daggett did not show up
until 11 o'clock. He waddled to his table and sat down, ad
mitting that he had on board a large and assorted cargo of
gin. I finished my work about midnight and getting up pro
posed that we go out and get some hot oysters. He replied
by holding up some manuscript and requesting me to read it.
I did and said : "Oh, Daggett, do not publish this ! We are
good friends with Snyder ; let it go ; his article will do no
harm." Then Daggett took on his savage look and replied : "No,
sir. That other rebellion cost 4,000 millions of dollars and
400,000 lives. I am going to squelch Snyder's right now."
"But," I said, "if you publish this, Snyder will get his
gun in the morning and fill you full of buckshot when you go
on the street."
With a cunning look he said: "Do you think so?"
"Of course," I answered. Then he said : "I will fix that,
I will get up early in the morning and go down and tell him
it was you."
As nearly as I can recall, from an imperfect memory, the
article began with these words :
"Mr. Snyder paid his respects to Lieutenant General
Sheridan in his last evening's Chronicle.
"It was good of him to thus remember an old companion
in arms. "Both were in the service. When Sheridan was plan
ning a raid on the Shenandoah valley, Snyder was planning
a raid on a government safe.
"Both succeeded, Sheridan cleaned out the valley, Snyder
cleaned out the safe."
There was more of it, but the above is sufficient to show
his style. The article appeared in the next morning's paper. I saw
no more of Daggett until after dinner the next evening, when
he and Snyder came in, each a little mellow. They had been
dining together. He was filled with contradiction.
He went out on the divide, four miles north of Virginia

188 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
City, one day, to attend a prize fight, and acted as one of the
judges. He returned in the evening and wrote a scathing arti
cle, picturing the shame' of prize fighting and its demoralizing
tendencies, and denouncing the county officers for permitting
such things. It was our habit in the Enterprise office to read
each other's proof. I read his article, then turning to Dag
gett, said :
"Old man, you remind me a little of Saul before he
became Paul."
"How is that?" he asked.
"You must have seen a great light as you were coming in
from the divide today," I said.
"You lack experience," he said. "When you become
wiser — I should hate to wait for the time — you will learn
that there come times in men's lives when it is duty to assume a
virtue, though they have it not."
In some way he awakened the ire of a brother editor in
an outside town of the state, and the editor came back at
him in an article which was fierce in its savagery.
He was asked if he was going to reply to it. Flis response
was : "Answer that ? Would you hunt snipe with a howitzer ?"
He and I were quietly at work one afternoon when a man
came in unannounced, walked straight to him, and presenting a
folded Enterprise, said : "Daggett, that is a shame. My cows
are as well fed as any man's, and the milk I sell is rich and
sweet." Daggett took the paper, looked at the heading: "Swill
Milk," swiftly glanced it over and knew that one of the re
porters had been writing up the man's dairy in not very com
plimentary terms. Turning upon the man an indignant face,
he said : "You are a pretty fellow to come to me. I was down
by your corral night before last;" — he had not been there in
three years ; — "as I walked along the high-board fence I heard
your cows gnawing bones, and when I turned the corner they
looked up at me and growled like dogs." The man dropped
his hands, exclaiming: "Well, by  !" turned and left the
office." "That was all on the square, I suppose?" I said.

ROLLIN M. DAGGETT. 189
"That was necessary," was his response. "That son of
a gun will not bother us again for eighteen months."
Daggett met Mr. Sharon one morning, who said to him :
"Come and have breakfast with me !" On his announcing
that he had just come from breakfast, Sharon said : "Come
along, I want to talk with you a few minutes."
Sharon ordered a quail on toast and in his dainty way
commenced eating, when Daggett bade the waiter bring him a
plate of ham and eggs. AVhen served he began eating in his
usual hearty manner. "I thought you said you had break
fasted," said Sharon. "I had, but the way you eat made me
hungry," was the reply.
"Heavens, I would give half my fortune for your appe
tite," was Sharon's comment. "Yes," said Daggett, "and the
other half for my character and lofty bearing. You see I am
richer than you." He had no more form than a sack of
apples and- his character, from a Christian standpoint, was a
good deal shop-worn in spots.
General Thomas H. Williams was one of Virginia City's
great lawyers. He carried through successfully a difficult law
suit, and his client gave him a small fee and 1,800 shares of
Con. Virginia stock. Williams tried to sell it, but the mine
was in borasco then and on the stock board was rated at only a
few cents a share. But after a while whispers began to be cir
culated that there was something in Con. Virginia, and the stock
began to rise. Then the shares were multiplied by five; bu:
they continued to creep up, then to jump, then to soar, and
Williams woke up one morning to find himself worth $12,-
000,000. It was not long until it began to be told that General
Williams was a candidate for the United States Senate.
Hearing of this Daggett wrote and published an article
giving some data in Williams' record, calculated to depress
Mr. AVilliams' hopes of success. The general met him next
morning and trembling with anger, through white lips de
manded to know his authority for what he had said.
Daggett named a not very brilliant lawyer who was a half
pensioner on Williams. Williams bowed and walked on. An
hour later the man named burst into the editorial rooms and

190 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
demanded in almost uncontrollable anger whether Daggett had
given him as authority for the infamous article on General
Williams. Daggett turned in his chair, seemed to be thinking for
an instant and then said : "I believe I did."
"Well, on what grounds?" was the next demand.
"It was this way," said Daggett : "Williams came on me
sudden-like, and you were the first son of a gun that came
into my mind."
One night Daggett and another engaged in a friendly
game of seven-up in the Washoe club. They continued to
play until 11 p. m., having beer between the games. A
final game was proposed to decide which should settle the
score for the evening. The friend agreed to this and the
game proceeded until Daggett had won six points and the
friend had but two. It was Daggett's deal, and he gave the
friend a queen and seven of trumps. The friend begged.
Daggett, who had no trump but a jack, gave him one. Then
the friend led the queen and caught Daggett's jack, made high,
low, jack, gift and the game and went out.
A friend who was watching the game turned away with a
laugh and left the club.
In his softest, pleasantest voice, Daggett said : "D  ,
do you know why Quinby went out?"
"It is getting late," was the reply. "I suppose he has
gone home."
"Oh, no," said Daggett, and his voice was like a caress.
"He has gone out into the hall, just to say to himself that a
man who would beg on a queen and a seven" — here his voice
quickly took on the growl of an angry bear — "is a blankety,
blankety holdup who, had he but the courage, would rob a
stage." AVhen the Custer massacre was wired, I met Daggett on
the street and told him. The savage in him came out like
smallpox. No word of sympathy for the command, but admira
tion for the Sioux. With eyes ablaze he said : "Big fellows,
Roman noses, fighters. I am proud of them."
Daggett had a beautiful wife and two little girls. AA'hen

ROLLIN M. DAGGETT. 191
I first knew them the children were three and four and
one-half years old respectively. In his home they would both
seize him ; he would fall to the floor declaring they had thrown
him down. They would pile cushions and rugs upon him,
shrieking with glee, while he, looking like a half-buried hippo
potamus, with awful imprecations would threaten to fall upon
them and make wafers of them in just two minutes more.
If he ever took an old lady by the hand and told her how
much he was honored in meeting her, she was hypnotized for
life. And when he tried, how he could handle English ! Listen
to those opening lines of his memorial poem in the centennial
year: "With leaf and blossom spring has come again,
And tardy Summer, garlanded with flowers,
Trips down the hillside like a wayward child,
Her garments fringed with frost ; but in her smile
The valleys turn to green, and tender flowers,
Woke from their slumber by the song of birds,
Reach up to kiss the dimpled mouth of May.
"With feet unsandaled and with solemn step,
Treacling the path that marks the centuries,
We come to lay on valor's silent bed
The fragrant offerings of our hearts and hands."
After Daggett's term in Congress expired, he served two
or three years as minister to Hawaii. Then he returned to
California, and about nine years ago he was stricken with
hemorrhage of the brain and died the same day.
There never was but one R. M. Daggett in all this world.

PROFESSOR FRANK STEWART.
PROFESSOR STEWART was one of the extraordinary
men of the west. He was tall and slim and angular;
he might have passed for a twin brother of Abraham
Lincoln, though he had a handsomer face than the man of
men of his generation. He was Indiana born and could not
have received very much schooling, for at eighteen he volun
teered in Joe Lane's Indiana regiment and went to the Mexican
war. He fought through all that long day at Buena Vista,
and could describe it in much more graphic phrases than any
historian ever has.
He was one of the original California Argonauts. If he
was not deeply schooled in his youth, he made up for it by
incessant study ; he was not a miner, but a wonderful geologist,
botanist and all around scientist. He was familiar with the
classics, wrote some fine short poems, but his joy was to grasp
an abstruse scientific problem and never rest until it was
solved. He would rather, from the shells and rocks, calculate
the age of the earth than to attend a banquet. He joined
Walker's expedition to capture Nicaragua, his reasoning being
that it would be a mercy to the people of that country to give
them a stable government. They conquered the country, but
because of Walker's utter incapacity and unfairness, his com
mand broke up into fragments ; Walker, with a few followers,
was captured and shot, and Stewart made his way on foot to
San Juan, Costa Rica, from there reached the coast and in
some way caught a vessel and returned to California.
He was editing a newspaper at Placerville, Cal., when one
day "Snow Shoe" Thompson, who carried the mails on snow
shoes over the Sierras between Placerville and Genoa, Nevada,
showed him a sample of rock and asked him what it was, ex
plaining that it clogged the sluices and bothered the placer
miners in Gold canyon.
Stewart told him that he did not know, but that it looked
as though it might be black sulphide of silver as described in

PROFESSOR FRANK STEWART. 193
the books, and advised him to have it assayed when he reached
Sacramento. Thompson did so, with astounding results. The
return was nearly $1,000 per ton in gold and over $1,200 in
silver. It has never been clear which assay was made first , the
one in Sacramento or the one in Nevada City. But they were
nearly at the same time.
Stewart went early to the Comstock. Mount Davidson
rises 2,000 feet high just west of the Comstock lode. At first
the pitch of the vein was to the west. Professor Silliman being
early called to Virginia City to give expert testimony as to the
great lode, predicted that the heart of the Comstock would be
found under Mount Davidson. This was published in Silli-
man's testimony. Stewart read it, and with a laugh said if
that was true then God Almighty had made a mistake, and had
placed the gangue on the wrong wall.
When explored a little below two hundred feet, the vein
suddenly quit. It did not pinch out — it just stopped. Short
drifts were run east from the bottoms of the shafts, then
from the east ends of the drifts shallow winzes were sunk and
lo, there was the ledge found, pitching east. Now the hoisting
works are a third of a mile down the mountain to the east. By
some upheaval the crest of the ledge had been pushed back and
broken off so that its natural pitch to the east was reversed
near the surface and turned to the west. It deceived Silliman
but did not Stewart.
Stewart explored all the camps of Nevada. His old
reports on Tuscarora, though discounted at the time, have been
vindicated by the pick, drill and dynamite.
In early days he gave a series of lectures in California and
received the sobriquet of "Earthquake" Stewart, because of
the theory that he put out, that the tremblors in California
were caused, not by displacements below the surface of the
earth, but because of electrical disturbances in the air and in
the earth near the surface, and predicted that when railroad
tracks and telegraph wires were stretched across the continent,
connecting the eastern and far western states, these disturb
ances would in a measure be neutralized, that the tremblors
would grow less and less severe, but that there would be tre-

194 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
mendous electrical storms in the Missouri and Mississippi
valleys. For like reasons he insisted that California was not a good
state for children to grow up in; that they would be high-
strung, with abnormal, nervous temperaments, and that like
too early ripened apples, would never reach entire excellence.
He was the kindest-hearted of men, but became impatient
in a moment if anything like a question of his geological con
clusions was asked.
After he had spent a month in Tuscarora, he returned to
Virginia City, and calling at the Enterprise, was enthusiastic
over the new camp.
A gentleman from New York had brought letters to me
and we were conversing when the professor came in. He at
once plunged into a description of the camp, and after talking
a few moments he suddenly stopped with the remark : "I will
show you just how it is." Then he went to a table, sat down,
picked up a pencil and was busy for several minutes making a
sketch. AVhen he had finished it he brought it back, explain
ing how each mine, thus far, had been located, and then gave
the course of the vein as he had traced it from the formation,
explaining what mines would be liable to have ore bodies and
which would not. His description lasted perhaps fifteen min
utes, and then the New Yorker said gently enough, "This is
your theory, Professor."
"There is no theory about it. That is the way God Al
mighty made it," said Stewart, savagely, and rolling up his
sketch, left the office without another word.
AAmen any new specimen of rock or shell was shown him,
he had a fashion of studying it, sometimes for fifteen or twenty
minutes, until he got it classified in his own mind, and then he
would explain what it was, to what age it belonged and all
about it.
He seldom drank any strong liquor, but about once in a
year or two he would drink for a day or two. After a long-
absence on a hard trip to some mines he got into Elko one
afternoon. At that time there was a district judge in Elko
who drank a good deal too much. Meeting Stewart, they

PROFESSOR FRANK STEWART. 195
drank together, then drank again, and as the night came down
they were both how-came-you-so, seated at a table in the bar
room of the hotel, unconscious that forty or fifty men were
looking on and listening The more Stewart drank the brighter
he seemed to grow, while the more his companion drank the
stupider he became. At last Stewart began to describe that
clay at Buena Vista ; how General Wool, early in the morning,
in splendid uniform, great epaulettes and a plumed hat, rode
along the lines, crying to the men that it was Washington's
birthday and American soldiers could never be whipped on
AA'ashington's birthday ; how the battle opened ; how early Jeff
Davis, with his Mississippi regiment of riflemen, without a
bayonet in the regiment, stopped 4,000 Mexican lancers in full
charge ; stopped them and rolled them back, covering the plain
with dead men and horses ; how then the fight centered around
the regiments of Hardin, McGee and Clay, and all three were
killed; then the storm broke over Lincoln and his regulars
and Lincoln was killed, and when Bragg sent back for rein
forcements and there being none to send him, General Taylor
in person, on his white horse, rode to him and gave the famous
order : "A little more grape, Captain Bragg." But this was
but preliminary to his description of the prodigies which Joe
Lane with his Indiana regiment performed, when suddenly
Stewart's friend, the judge, roused up and said : "Professor,
were you in that Indiana regiment that ran like blazes from
that fight ?"
Stewart stopped talking, looked across the table for quite
two minutes at the judge and then broke out with : "I can't
classify you, sir. I don't know whether you are a fool, sir, or
a son of a she wolf."
The listeners shouted with laughter. Stewart looked
around at them, then, rising hastily, said : "I think it is an hour
after the time when I should have been in bed," and hastily
left the room.
He came into my office one morning with a joyous look
on his face, and laid a specimen on my desk, saying: "What
do you think that is?" I said: "It looks like a piece of brick
that was too much burned in the kiln."

196 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
"Not much," he said; "  , the great traveler, just
gave it to me. It is a part of a brick which he picked up from
the ruins of the Tower of Babel. It proves what I have always
said. You know the Bible says a fire came down from heaven
and destroyed that tower. It was just an old-fashioned tre
mendous electric storm — a cyclone and thunder storm com
bined, and the lightning vitrified that brick."
He was a Democrat, and with his breeding he never liked
New England, always expressing the belief that except for
Phillips, Garrison, Sumner, Mrs. Stowe and the others there
would never have been any secession or war. But in the
eighties some croppings were found in Maine which, being
assayed, showed fair values in silver. A Boston company was
organized to develop the property. But an expert's opinion
was wanted, and one of the directors wrote to one of the great
mining companies on the Comstock to send them a man both
practical and scientific. Stewart was sent. He was engaged
as consulting engineer, which held him in Boston most of the
time, only making occasional visits to the property. After
three months he wrote me : "Do not waste your life any longer
in the west ! Come here ! I never knew what a whole com
munity of gentlemen meant until I came to Boston."
From Boston he received a call to examine a mine in West
Virginia. He returned with a fearful cold, which soon devel
oped into pneumonia, and he died three days later.
Poor Stewart; he was altogether a most gifted, manly
man.

GOVERNOR LUTHER R. BRADLEY.
IT IS with a feeling of deep sorrow that I recall the mem
ory of Governor Bradley, for he was long my friend ;
but there came a time when it was my duty to inflict upon
him perhaps the greatest disappointment of his life.
He was an early comer to California, one of the Argo
nauts, I believe. He settled near Stockton in that state. He
was from Virginia, unlettered, spoke in the dialect of the poor
whites and negroes of that state, was intensely pro-southern,
and went to Stockton just when Judge Terry, Dr. Ainsley
and the full band of fire-eaters centered there and controlled
things politically, sometimes in a most partisan and arrogant
manner. Governor Bradley was in full sympathy with them. He
was not more than five feet seven or eight inches in height, but
stockily built, and must have weighed 200 pounds. I never
knew him until he reached Nevada. Ever after that he wore
very long, full whiskers. It was said that when the news of
the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency was confirmed,
he declared that he would never have his hair cut nor beard
shaved until the people got some sense and elected a Democrat
President. The truth of this I cannot affirm, but think it very
liable to be true. He came to Nevada, I think, in 1860, driving
over a small band of cattle. He located near where Austin
now is.At that time Nevada was covered with bunch grass, which
is most nutritious. Cattle pastured upon it in the autumn,
when the seed ripens, would in three months, from half skele
tons take on full flesh, and the meat be equal to or better than
the best stall fed beef, for the seed was really grain and
the very finest quality for beef. There was a series of mild
winters after 1860; the governor's herds swiftly increased and
he became a real cattle king. In the early seventies, I asked
him once if he ever made any provisions for protecting and
feeding his cattle in the winter, and reminded him of the legend
that buffalo were plenty in the Great Basin until the fierce

198 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
winter of 1838, which killed them all. He replied that he
only brought a small band of cattle to Nevada and just let them
rustle, and he had done reasonably well. He added : "There
is a good deal in educating a critter He is like a man. If he
knows his living depends on his rustling, he will rustle." In
1870 the Democrats, looking around for a candidate for gov
ernor, determined to nominate Bradley.
The Comstock had been in borasco for several years until
1869. Mr. Sharon had held things together, and made the
great discoveries in the Belcher and Crown Point possible.
Not one man in a thousand comprehended the work he had
performed, but he was called king. Sutro was filling the air
of the whole state with his complainings against Sharon and
the bank ring, and when the Republicans nominated F. A.
Tritte, a broker in Virginia City and friend of Mr. Sharon,
though he was one of the most splendid men that ever lived in
Nevada, the Democrats with "Old Broadhorns," as they called
him, and a cry for an honest government, easily elected their
candidate. He had not the first qualification for the place; no clear
knowledge of the duties of the office, nor of the needs of the
state, but he was a kindly old man and had a streak of native
strategy about him which was in truth the most catching kind
of politics. A couple of samples of this will make it clear.
Crossing the street in Carson one day, a man in a lumber
wagon, with his wife and child with him, drove past, and, see
ing the Governor, stopped his team, and accosted him with,
"Excuse me, Governor, but me and my wife wanted to speak
to you and tell you that we and all the neighbors up in Douglas
county were glad that you were elected, and to wish you well."
The Governor stepped up to the wagon, shook hands with
both, told them he had been hoping that he and his neighbors
would come to Carson, that he wanted to see them all, and all
the time was patting the child's head. They drove away with
radiant faces, when the Governor turned to a friend and asked,
"AVhobe they?"
The friend replied, "Why, that is  ; they live in
Douglas county."

GOVERNOR LUTFIER R. BRADLEY 199
"And whar be Douglas county?" asked his excellency.
On another occasion, as the Governor went out from his
executive chambers one morning, he noticed that the janitor
was removing the desks from the assembly chamber. Going to
him, the Governor asked: 'What's yer doin', Jake?" The
janitor explained that the Knights of Pythias from all over the
state had been in convention in Carson for two days, that they
were going to have a ball in the assembly hall that night and
he was preparing the room for them.
"Knights of Pythias," said the Governor, "who be they?"
The janitor replied: "Why, Governor, it is an order like the
Masons or Odd Fellows ; have you not noticed them here for a
couple of days wearing sashes and swords?"
"O them fellows," said the Governor ; "why they'll get
drunk and muss everything up. I wouldn't let 'em have the
hall, Jake."
At that moment one of the Knights came in, the scabbard
of his sword clanking on the marble floor at every step.
The Governor turned to him, right in the presence of the
janitor and said cheerily : "Well, my son, are you going to
have a good time tonight?"
"I hope so, Governor," was the reply.
Then the Governor, with a smile, said : "I heeard you
was going to have a party and I war so anxious that every
thing would be pleasant for you. I war out superintending
Jake's work myself."
Could anyone beat that? He was re-elected governor
in 1874. By 1876 the bonanza was in full blast and the Corn-
stock was soaring as never before.
AVhen the Legislature met in January, 1877, the Gover
nor, listening to some not very level-headed advisers, recom
mended in his message a mighty tax on bullion, and further,
that all incorporations should be taxed for the full amount of
shares in their capital stock at par.
That meant that if the owners of a prospect incorporated
with say 150,000 shares of the value of one dollar per share,
m hope of selling a few shares, say at 10 cents per share in
order to help develop the prospect, the incorporation should be

200 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
assessed for the full $150,000 named in their incorporation
papers. A Amen the time for nominations drew near in 1878, I
begged the Democrats, through the Enterprise, not to try to
run the governor for a third term ; explaining that the Repub
lican press of the state had always been most considerate of
the governor because of his age and kindly ways, but it would
be necessary to defeat him if he was a candidate again, and
that one result would be to sunder old ties of friendship which
it would be sweet to keep.
The Democrats met in state convention two days later
and nominated the old man by acclamation.
Of course the fight was on at once. I do not think there
was ever any other such political fight on this coast. It did
not relax, but rather grew hotter and hotter every day for
two months, and the old man went down under the storm.
But he got even in a little way. Four years before, I had
called upon a friend in Sacramento. In a paddock near his
house he had a mare and a baby colt perhaps three months old.
It seemed a wonderful colt, and I asked the friend what he
would take to keep him and break him and send him to me
when the colt was four years old. ¦ He named a price and
I paid him. Just before election, when the campaign was at its
height, the friend sent me the colt. He was a wonder, one
of the most beautiful horses ever seen in the west. The stable
boys were hitching him to a sulky one day when Governor
Bradley passed. He looked into the barn, saw the horse,
entered and walked around him several times exclaiming,
'What a beauty! What a beauty!" naming his regal points in
a kind of ecstasy. Finally he asked who owned the animal.
AA'hen told, he said : "That thar feller in the Enterprise?"
AA'hen answered yes, he turned abruptly, and saying:
"That there colt looks ter have a heap more sense than his
owner," left the barn.
The following winter was a most severe one, and 20,000
head of the governor's cattle perished.
His disappointments, his financial losses and his great age
were too much for him, and a few months later he died.

GOVERNOR LUTHER R. BRADLEY. 201
He died thinking I was his enemy and never knew that
there never was a moment when personally I would not have
gladly gone out of my way to serve him in any manner possi
ble, and he never could understand why the best interests of
Nevada made it necessary to defeat his third election.
If any reader thinks the personal pronoun is too much in
evidence in this, I hope he will believe that it is but to make
clear to the many friends of the Governor who are still alive
that sometimes an honest newspaper has to present things in
such a light as makes everyone connected with it wish that he
could avoid the duty.
Governor Bradley was a kindly, generous man in life. He
was, too, shrewd and cunning in many ways, a typical fron
tiersman, and the hope of all who knew him is that in the
beyond in the clearer light, he will see the hearts of men as
they really are, and be able to understand all that was hidden
from his darkened eyes here.

14

ALVINZA HAYWARD.
ALVINZA HAYWARD lived about the most even life
of any of the famous men who won and lost on the
Comstock. He was -an Argonaut. When he looked
first upon the Golden state he was six feet in height, strong
and brave, and looked like one who had come to conquer. From
the first his thought seemed to be that the legitimate work of
a man in California was mining; that everything else was
secondary employment. He made some money in the placers
in Amador county, but the great mother lode ran by his door,
and he was irrestibly attracted to it. He had assays made
from it, and though he knew nothing about quartz mining, or
the reduction of gold ores, he knew that the simplest form was
to crush ores by stamps, then to wash the pulp, and if the ores
were free a fair proportion of the gold could be saved.
So he crushed some pounds of the ores in a common mor
tar and then washed the fine pulp in a pan. In that way, by
comparing what he could save from twenty pounds of rock,
with the assays of 2,000 pounds, he could estimate what per
centage of the ore in a ton could be obtained in a mill. In
that way he found that the ore was "free milling;" that is, it
was not held in combination with some other metal that would
carry it away with the pulp, as it was run over a quicksilvered
plate. Then he had a crude mill built and found that he could
make money much faster than in the placers, and so in the early
fifties had accumulated what was then a great fortune and a
high name among the business men of California. He really
was working a mother lode bonanza.
Then he devoted much of his fortune to many different
enterprises. He was an original stockholder in the California
bank. He was intimate with Ralston, Mills, and the others of the
bank ; when Gorham and Jones ran for governor and lieutenant
governor, he formed a great attachment for J. P. Jones — as
almost any man would, for there was never but one J. P.

ALVINZA FIAYWARD. 203
Jones — and we suspect that he advised Jones to go to Nevada,
and helped get him the place of superintendent of the Crown
Point mine in which Hayward was a heavy stockholder.
In the mines in Amador, Mr. Hayward was always
dressed as a miner with gray shirt, overalls and miners' boots ;
in San Francisco he was always attired like a gentleman of
leisure and finely groomed, and altogether an attractive-look
ing man of affairs. He was indeed a real captain of industry.
As the Crown Point progressed under the management
of Jones, Hayward stood behind him, he being the controlling
stockholder, and as the indications pointed to a bonanza sure,
bought more and more of the stock until when in a very few
months the stock jumped from 50 cents a share to $1,800, both
men became several times millionaires. That bonanza gave
up. if we remember rightly, something over $33,000,000.
When Mr. Hayward began to grow rich in Amador, he
started to help his fellow miners when they were in trouble.
The amount of these loans, which were generally gifts, only the
books in the Beyond can ever reveal. Certainly Alvinza Hay
ward never knew the sum.
This he kept up all his life, one result of which was that
he had mining interests in many places.
In a certain district in Placer county, "drift diggings"
were found. In the immemorial past a river had threaded its
way through that region.
By some mighty convulsion of nature this river was cov
ered deep by overturned mountains. Its source was turned in
some other direction and the ancient bed of the river was
buried. In a few places, through the erosion of the years, the
mountains covering the dead river had been worn down, leav
ing exposed small portions of its bed.
This bed was often several feet deep in gravel which was
rich in gold and when the bed rock was reached it was often
fabulously rich.
AVhen found the only way to work this was by drifting
up stream — for it was filled with water — running the gravel
out on cars and washing it outside.

204 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Mr. Hayward had some interests in the camp, but another
man had an extremely rich section of the old stream and in a
few months took from it $1,500,000.
Then he went east on a visit. In New York City, at the
home of a relative, he met a beautiful and most brilliant young
lady who was poor and was earning her living by teaching.
She had quarreled with her sweetheart the very day before
she met this miner who had just made $1,500,000. He was
carried away at the first sight of the lovely girl and in two
weeks sailed from New York for California with her for a
bride. Reaching San Francisco, her husband offered to buy her
any home that she might select, but she told him it was a con
tract for life, that while he remained a miner she intended to
be a miner's wife, so she went with him to their wild camp in
the high Sierras and remained there three years. There she
sometimes met Mr. Hayward.
Afterwards they went to Auburn, built a fine home and
remained there until the husband died.
In addition to the first stake of $1,500,000, the man took
another million from the old river bed; but he knew nothing
about business; he invested his money in a hundred schemes,
and when he died his wife found that there was nothing- left
but the home and the "remnants" of the old mine. She went
back to the old camp and looked it carefully over and then went
to find Mr. Hayward in San Francisco. She called upon him
and told him that she had come to him to borrow $10,000,
maybe $15,000.
He smiled and asked her what her plans were, for he
knew that her husband had left her next to nothing.
Then she unrolled before him a map or map and sketch
combined, and asked him if he recognized the place. He looked
long at it and then said. "It is as the camp was fifteen
years ago."
"That was when I made it," she replied.
"You made it ?" he asked.
Then she explained that when a young girl she used to
make caricatures of every teacher that she did not like, and

ALVINZA HAYWARD. 205
every boy that she found looking at her in school. That when
her late husband found her in New York she was teaching-
mathematics and drawing; that when her honeymoon began
to wane up in that mining camp, to occupy herself she began to
sketch the camp.
"But," she added, "look closer, Mr. Hayward ! Do you
see these lines? They represent the old river bed, from this
point (touching the map) up and clown. My husband worked
out the bed above as far as he could follow it, and found that
the fall averaged twenty feet to the mile. Then he went below
and started this tunnel (tapping another line) to strike the old
bed in 700 feet.
He ran it 50 feet, and then the upper river bed was paying
so much that he put all the men to work there and never
resumed work on this lower tunnel. I want the money to drive
that tunnel 200 feet more, to strike the channel."
"Suppose you do not strike it?" asked Mr. Hayward.
"But I shall. I must," was the reply. "My children and
myself cannot get along without it."
"What do you know about mining?" asked Hayward.
"Did I not work three years in those mines?" she asked,
and then added : "Please keep in mind that I am no common
miner. I am a mining engineer. Look at that map !"
"Well," said Hayward at last, "such pluck as yours de
serves recognition. Draw on me for all you want!"
The lady made good ; paid him back every cent and had
something left for herself and children. I can not tell her name
for the children were still alive when I last heard from them,
though their mother is dead. Everyone in Auburn will know
whom I mean.
As Mr. Hayward grew old he became a great spiritualist,
a sort of Uncle Jesse Knight, for rumor has it that Uncle Jesse
dreams out bonanzas; but Mr. Hayward's spirits came out
flat-footed and told him what mines would do.
The late Charlie Lane found or obtained an option on the
LTtica mine at Angels camp in Calaveras county, Cal., and went
at once to Mr. Hayward for help. Hayward was then an old
man, but the Utica was on the mother lode : he looked at the

206 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
samples Lane had brought (whether the spirits approved I do
not know, but Hayward did) and told Lane to go ahead, and in
the next six years the mine made them both what would have
been great fortunes before the Comstock was found. He made
his first and last fortune on the mother lode, and though he
made more money on the Comstock than he did in California,
his first love was for that same great lode that plows its way for
three hundred miles through the Sierras ; which has made so
many people rich and which, its friends believe, holds yet in
its course vastly more than it has so far given up.
Mr. Hayward was one of the first to demonstrate its pos
sibilities ; it made him a millionaire when millionaires were rare
objects in this old world, and he in return made it clear to the
men of California that the quartz of the state would many
times make up for the vanishing placers.
Mr Hayward died a few years ago in San Francisco.
A\"e do not know of one reproach that followed him out
into the Beyond.
He came to California and single-handed forged out a
fortune for himself and made it from the hills ; no other man
was made poorer by it, rather while he was wresting it from
the stubborn rocks, his life was a blessing to those around him;
he kept his brain alert to find where he could be of use to his
fellow men and his heart always open and generous.
At the same time he was a shrewd business man; if he
was ever foolish with his money it was because he intended to
be. Among as sharp men as ever battle for fortunes either
through the legitimate channels of business or by desperate
plunging on the stock market, Mr. Hayward never lost his
head nor his temper, but moved easily among them, saved
what he had made and added to it.
He believed in the invincibility of work; his love for
California and his desire to see the great state exalted were
grand passions with him : he was one of the very strong men
of the Golden State for more than half a century ; and among
those who changed the great state from its barbaric glorv in
1849 to its enlightened splendor of today, not one did nobler
nor higher nor more effective work than Alvinza Hayward.

HARRY I. THORNTON.
HE WAS slight and fair, not more than twenty-four
years of age, I think, when he reached California, but
he was already an accomplished lawyer. Fie hailed, I
believe, from Alabama, and was of the first families. Fie set
tled in Downieville and soon made a name as an orator and
lawyer, and was looked upon as sure to stamp himself upon
the state as one of its foremost citizens. His private life
was above reproach — he always carried himself as one who
was above winning- anything except on merit, and as though
his self-respect was something which he would sooner die
than stain or wound. After awhile the Sierra district sent
him to the legislature and he soon made a name there as a
speaker and legislator. He was a Democrat of the Southern
school and politics were fast taking on a fiery form in Cali
fornia. The killing of Broderick by Terry, and Ferguson by
Penn Johnson had inflamed northern-born men of all parties.
Though they were both killed in duels, the feeling in the first
case was that he was challenged by an expert duelist, not be
cause of the reason assigned, but to get him out of the way,
and in the latter case that it was little better than murder, for
Ferguson was one of the most genial, gentle and kindly of men.
The extreme Southern-born men counted on General
Albert Sidney Johnston turning over the arms and ammuni
tion stored in Alcatraz to them. But he was a soldier, and was
on his honor to perform his duty, and though all his sympa
thies were with the Confederacy, he would not betray his trust.
When he was relieved by General Sumner, and resigned from
the army to start for the South, a great many southern-born
men in California followed him.
Thornton made a ringing speech in the legislature giving
his reasons why he could no longer serve California as one of
her law-makers, sent in his resignation, and likewise left for
the South. He was at once given a commission and a place on Gen-

208 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
eral Pat Cleburne's staff. He fought in all the battles that
the fiery Cleburne engaged in, the most furious one being at
Franklin. He told me that on that afternoon Hood ordered
six separate assaults upon the earthworks behind which Scho-
field with his seven thousand veterans played upon Hood's
army in the' open field. Six high officers of Hood's army were
killed, among whom, if we are not mistaken, Cleburne was one,
with a score of lesser officers and an appalling list of men.
Franklin virtually decided the battle of Nashville.
It was what Hougomont was to Waterloo, and a part of
Hugo's description would apply to Franklin, as follows :
"Napoleon sent his brother Jerome against Hougomont;
the divisions of Foy, Guillemont and Bacheln hurled thunders
against it; nearly the entire corps of Rielle was employed
against it and miscarried; Killerman's brigades were' exhausted
on this heroic section of wall. Banduin's brigade was not
strong enough to force Hougomont on the north, and the di
vision of Gage could not do more than effect the beginning
of a breach on the south.'
And the result:
"Banduin killed; Foy wounded; conflagration, massacre
carnage ; a river of English blood ; French blood ; German blood
mingled in fury ; a well crammed with corpses ; the regiment
of Nassau and the regiment of Brunswick destroyed; Duplat
killed ; Blackmaun killed ; the English guards mutilated ; twenty
French battalions besides the forty from Reille's corps desci-
mated; three thousand men in that hovel of Hougomont cut
down, slashed to pieces," etc.
As will be remembered, when Sherman at Atlanta wired
Grant, asking permission to break away from his base and go
through to the sea, Grant wired back to detach Thomas to look
after Hood (who was in command of the Southern army in
front of Sherman), and then go ahead. Sherman took ninety
thousand of his army and started "From Atlanta to the Sea,"
and the army he left Thomas was so much inferior to Hood's
that there was nothing for Thomas to do but to fall back until
he could unite with the command at Nashville. Then beean that

FIARRY I. THORNTON. 209
movement of Thomas' army with Flood hanging on his rear
and seeking the opportunity to overwhelm him.
AVhen Thomas reached Franklin, two clays' march from
Nashville, he ordered Schofield with seven thousand men to
occupy the works there that had previously been constructed ;
to keep a lookout for Hood, and if he found that he was flank
ing him, to leave the works and hurry after him, but if Hood
attacked him to fight him until night and then draw out his
troops and follow him to Nashville. Evidently Thomas be
lieved from what he knew of Hood's impetuous nature that he
would try to crush Schofield and then his battle with Thomas
wou'd be much easier, which would have been good general
ship had Schofield been in the open like himself, but not when
Schofield's army was splendidly entrenched. So Hood led his
army through six distinct assaults with loss so frightful that it
was only a half-hearted army that he had left. Thornton told
me that in the last assault General Adams led his command
until his horse's fore feet were reared upon the earthworks,
when he and his horse were both killed.
When night came down, following his orders, Schofield
silently withdrew his army and hurried on to join Thomas.
Next morning the Confederates entered the deserted works, and
found there the body of General Adams. The Federals had
gone out and carried the body in, composed the limbs on a
blanket and over it had laid an officer's costly military cloak.
AAmen the war closed Thornton prepared the necessary
papers and went to Washington. He went to Secretary of
AATar Stanton's office next morning and waited his turn to speak
to him. When the others were disposed of, Thornton went to
the rail which separated the outer from the inner office, and
Stanton asked in his brusque way what he could do for him.
Thornton, pushing forward his papers, replied : "I have come,
Mr. Secretary, with a petition for pardon."
Stanton looked down upon him for an instant and then
said : "You had better go about your business. We are not
spending our time in pardoning boys."
I suspect that hurt Thornton more than would a blow. He
had practiced law several years, been a member of the legis'a-

210 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ture of a great state and then had fought by the side of a gen
eral renowned for his fighting propensities, only to be called a
boy and told to go about his business by a grim old secretary
of war. From Washington he went to New York and watched
the thousands that thronged the streets, the ships going and
coming, and he told me he had never realized before what fools
the southern men had been. "Why," said he, "New York
City alone could have licked us, and had she found the work
a little too robust, she could in a month have imported enough
Irishmen and Germans to have beaten us down through the
sheer force of numbers." As soon as he could he sought the
west. Reaching San Francisco, his friends advised him that all
the rush was for Nevada, and he went there, settling first, I
think, in Austin and going from there to Hamilton. When he
arrived in Austin he found many old Sierra county friends. The
first proposition was to all have a drink. As they stood glasses
in hand, one man cried out, "Here's to the south, beaten, but
not subdued." Thornton set down his glass and turning to the
man, said : "Where in the south did you serve ?"
"Oh, I was here," said the man.
Then Thornton said : "I was in the south, and I am sub
dued." He formed a law partnership with Judge Garber, and the
firm was recognized as one of the foremost in the state for sev
eral years. He was handling a mining case in Belmont and the
principal on the other side was a Frenchman who had but
a poor understanding of English. In his final argument,
Thornton used the Frenchman's name several times. A would-
be funny deputy sheriff sitting- near the Frenchman asked him
if he understood what Thornton was saying. He replied that
his understanding was imperfect, when the other, thinking
to have some fun, told the Frenchman that he was making fun
of him and intimating that he was none too honest. When the
Frenchman finally understood, he grew pale and asked the
deputy if he would carry one paper to Monsieur Thornton. The
deputy said he would, and the Frenchman went to a desk and
wrote something in French and gave it to the deputy.

HARRY I. THORNTON. 211
AA'hen Thornton finished his argument the deputy carried
him the paper. Thornton read it, his face flushed a little and
leaning forward, he penned an answer. A lawyer friend was
watching him, and leaning over him said : "What is it, Harry?"
Thornton passed him the Frenchman's note. He read it and
the friend said: "Are you going to notice it, Harry?" For
answer he held up his acceptance. The friend read it and then
declared that it must not be ; that Thornton had said nothing to
provoke a challenge, and the man was only a boor.
To this, Thornton replied : "When a man is willing to
risk his life for the honor of his name, his social position is not
to be questioned. He is a man as good as any other man."
It required the utmost exertion of the court and bar, cou
pled with the protestations of the deputy that it was all meant
as a bit of fun, to make Thornton concede anything. Finally
he said: "Gentlemen, bring me a formal withdrawal of this
challenge signed by Monsieur, or the fight goes." Then the
Frenchman was appealed to, but he was as game as a bull-dog,
and not until the judge of the court assured him on his honor
that there was not a word of disrespect to him in Thornton's
speech, would he sign the paper. He finally did, grinding his
teeth and swearing low to himself in the meantime. Then
he sprang up and challenged the deputy to fight him, "not with
ze sabre, not with ze gun, not with ze cannon, not with ze
bomb, but with ze fists."
Then it required another extended explanation that the
deputy was a peace officer, and while he held the office could
only fight to keep the peace.
The Frenchman was still angry when he started out of
town toward his mine.
Thornton and Garber were in all the litigation in White
Pine county, and in all the great cases in Pioche and Eureka.
After some years they removed to San Francisco and there
maintained their high standing as lawyers and men. But after
Mrs. Thornton died, Harry seemed to lose his interest in his
business, and a little later an insidious disease came upon him.
He had bought a farm some miles out of Oakland and raised
horses and flowers upon it. He bought the place merely as a

212 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
resting place when he wanted to be quiet, but as his feebleness
increased he spent more and more time there, and I believe died
there. He was most gifted and lovable; most generous in his
estimates of his fellow men. There was nothing of envy
or jealousy in his nature; not one drop of cold blood in his
veins. Such a nature naturally drew men to it, and the grief
over his death extended from cabin to palace and took in all
classes of men.
Except for the great war, Harry I. Thornton's name
would have been familiar and honored in every home on the
west coast.
A little anecdote may make a good closing for this sketch.
One day, when General Sherman was before Atlanta and Bragg
was in command of the Confederate army in his front, Bragg
sent a flag of truce to Sherman. Thornton heard the order
given and begged to go along. The little company passed
through the. union lines and came upon Sherman's headquar
ters. One side of Sherman's tent was thrown back and Sher
man was seen within bending over a map and talking to a
group of officers around him and gesticulating in his
impetuous way. As the flag of truce was announced, all in
the tent stood at attention. The ranking officer approached
General Sherman. They had been friends before the war.
Sherman greeted him cordially and presented him to the offi
cers around him. Then the Confederate officer presented those
who had accompanied him, until it came to Thornton, when
Sherman said: "One moment." Looking intently at Thorn
ton in his colonel's uniform, he said : "I had the honor of
being associated with you in the trial of the case of Lucas
Turner & Co. vs. Langston'e Express Company, in Downie-
ville, California. The trial began on the 16th day of February,
1854, and lasted four days. It was a hot fight, but we licked
'em. I am glad to see you, Col. Thornton." Then added,
"Colonel Harry I. Thornton." Then he turned to his officers
and introduced Thornton as an old California friend.

"DAN DE QUILLE."
HIS real name was AA'illiam Wright, but his nom de
plume grew to so much overshadow it that thou
sands knew him by no other name. Prior to the war,
the Sacramento Union had a correspondent who signed him
self "Ching Foo." He was an army officer, but in time of
peace wrote to the Union. He was a fine writer; his letters
were superbly prepared and called for loving remembrance
for years after he ceased to write. In Washoe county, Nev.,
was a prevaricator whose genius in that line is still recalled
with admiration. Long after "Ching Foo" had ceased to write
for the Union, reference was made, in a little company, to his
old-time wonderful letters. Our imaginative friend at once
broke in upon the conversation in this strain : "Ching Foo was
the most intelligent Chinaman that I ever saw. Fie cooked for
me three years in Calevaras county, California. I taught him
to write English."
There may be grand liars still who, when occasion re
quires, may be telling that Dan De Quille was a most intelligent
Frenchman, and that it was under their care that he acquired
a fair knowledge of English. But Dan was an American
through and through. I believe he was Ohio born, but his
home had been in Iowa from childhood until he went to
Nevada. He reached there in the autumn of '59, I believe, and
took up his home in a cabin in Silver City. He was following
in the wake of the Grosh brothers, who either first found the
Comstock, or at least a spur of it, built a rude furnace and
smelted the ore and then both died — one in trying to cross the
Sierras in winter, and the other of sorrow and sickness a little
later. Dan was a good deal of a geologist and something of a
mineralogist, and studied the Comstock from the surface to
below the 3,000 level. He was always writing dissertations
on the lode and its formation,' and when Mr. Goodman moved
the Enterprise to Virginia City, Dan became a regular con-

214 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
tributor, which culminated in a few months in his becoming
one of the staff of the great little paper. Then for more than
thirty years he was in full evidence in the columns of that
journal. Without him the paper would have been an automo
bile with a punctured tire.
He was down in the mine every day at first, and could
the files of the Enterprise have been saved, his articles taken
out and arranged with the proper dates, would make a com
plete and fascinating history of the great lode from the first.
Moreover, what he wrote, everybody believed implicitly. This
or that expert might make a report, and men would say, "He
may have been mistaken." This or that owner of heavy shares
might express his opinion, and men would say : "Maybe his
interests prejudice him." But everyone believed Dan.
But his work was not confined to the mines. It cov
ered everything; he was a mining reporter, a local reporter,
and when, late at night, his regular work was finished, he would
write away until after daylight on some droll story or some
scientific theme.
He had a quaint irony through which he could make fun
of his fellow man's idiosyncracies, which everyone would rec
ognize at a glance, but he never offended anyone.
Daggett, with his intellectual cleaver, would chop a man
to pieces. Mark Twain, with his droll humor, would lead
his victim up to the shambles he had in waiting for him, and
the unconscious creature would never suspect what was going
to happen until the ax fell.
But Dan had a softer way. The intended victim would
know all the time after the first ten lines that he was going to
be sacrificed, but he was under a spell, enjoyed the process, and
laughed after he was downed. Dan was in close rapport with
the Indians and Chinese, and they all brought their troubles
to him. Yan Sing came to him one day and said : "Mr. Quille,
you sabbie ! Hong Lung he die las week. We fix him up all
lite, fine coffin, hire band, plenty music, plenty yellow paper,
well we bellie him all lightie, but he come back first nightie, say
he no all lite. He came nex night, say he no all lite, he come
Slaterday night and say, 'What the h — 1 ! Me no all lite.'

"DAN DE QUILLE." 215
"Yesterday we dig him up, open boxie, what you thinkie?
One leg pullie up so (bending his knee). We pushee leggie
clown, make urn straight, nail up box, bellie him again. He
no come last nightie."
Dan was married, and a baby girl was born to him before
he left Iowa for the far west. AA'hen old enough this little girl
began to write him letters. They were a crown of glory to
Dan and the writer of them was Dan's divinity, the one thing
that kept his heart warm and filled with a celestial light.
He was drinking beer with Steve Gillis one night in the
Fredericksburg brewery, when he broke out and delivered a
eulogy on this little girl back in Iowa. Gillis listened and
then said: "Dan, I have been looking for just such a girl as
that. Bring her out here and I will marry her."
Dan's face grew savage in a moment. Bringing his first
clown. with a resounding whack upon the table, he exclaimed:
"No, sir ; no, sir ; no son of a gun that drinks beer can ever look
at that girl, much less marry her."
He wrote up a plausible story, taking as a starter the
fact that C street, Virginia City, was exactly the same altitude
as the surface of Lake Tahoe, thirty miles away in the Sierras.
He explained that the excessive water in the Comstock was
probably due to an underground channel from the lake, coming
that long way under the mountains and under AVashoe valley,
then under Mount Davidson in the range in which the Com
stock is 'located, and filling the Comstock fissure to the sur
face ; and all that kept it from overflowing was that the surface
of the lake was at the same altitude as the croppings of the
Comstock ; and instead of favoring the Sutro tunnel to drain
the lode, he suggested that shafts should be sunk in Washoe
valley and drifts run, until the underground channel was found ;
then plug that and, of course, when the Comstock was once
pumped out there would be no more trouble from water.
His solar armor story was one of his best ones. It was
an invention intended to neutralize the excessive heat of the
summer. It was called "a solar armor." It was a suit of India
rubber that a man could put on, but within it was a compact
air compressor attached to which was a pocket battery to run

216 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
it. AA'hen the wearer found it was growing too warm, he had
but to touch a button to set the compressor going, and when
sufficiently cooled, he could touch another button and shut off
the power. At last, according to Dan, when the inventor got all ready,
he put on the armor and started across Death valley one after
noon when the thermometer marked 117 degrees in the shade,
and went out of sight in the sun. He did not return, and the
next morning an exploring party started out to try to find
traces of him. Out four or five miles in the desert they found
the man's body. He had started the apparatus evidently, but
could not stop it, and it had frozen him to death. The machine
was still running when the body was found, and an icicle
eighteen inches long was pendant from the nose of the dead
man. About a month after the story was published Dan received
a London Times one morning containing a marked article that
filled two or three columns of that ponderous publication.
Some writer had read his article, accepted it as true, en
dorsed the principle and elaborated upon the advantages which
would come of it, could the government see its way clear to
supply the British soldiers in India and other hot countries with
the armor. Dan read it through, then with a blue pencil drew
a line around the article and connected the two ends with a
pencil sketch of a hoodlum, looking at some far away object,
and the figure had his right thumb to his nose with his fingers
wiggling He put the paper in a wrapper and directed it to the
Scientific Writer, care of the Times, London, England. But
all that day he wore such a look as Dr. Holmes must have
worn while writing that poem in which he promised never more
to "write as funny as I can."
His resourcefulness in a newspaper office was wonderful.
He could do two or three men's work when necessary ; his in
dustry was untiring and his brain exhaustless.
He took one summer off and wrote his book, "The Great
Bonanza," which is a true story of the Comstock up to 1875.
He was tall and slim, and as he grew older he seemed to
grow more spare and tall, and a feebleness came upon him

"DAN DE QUILLE." 217
which finally left him no strength to work. He went back to
his friends in Iowa and as the winter came on the influenza
which came that winter across the Atlantic prostrated him.
He recovered from the disease, but he had no strength to rally
and after a few weeks the wornout machinery ran down and
stopped. He was the most winsome of men ; no man was ever more
honest or conscientious ; he was gifted in a hundred ways ; he
was one of the most efficient and valuable men that ever wore
out his life in a newspaper office, and no one who knew him
well has ever ceased grieving for him.
He was above both bribes or bluffs ; no man could ever cor
rupt him; no man could scare him. He made no pretentions,
but every day he followed his duty as God gave him to see it,
and along its path, though there were sometimes thorns and
sharp rocks under his feet, he never stopped unless to here and
there plant a flower or a shade tree.
He did not need any credentials when his soul went above.
The pearly gates swung back merely at the mention of his name,
and I fancy that the breeze that swept over Summer Land in
that hour, caused every harp-string to thrill with soft seolian
notes in welcome to Dan.

COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR.
HE would have been a great statesman had not nature
given him so many splendid gifts to lure him from a
settled and high purpose. Then in a rollicking mood,
Bacchus must have stooped and kissed his baby lips while he
was yet in his cradle. He was just about the height and size
of James G. Blaine, quite as bright, but far more versatile.
He was born and reared, educated, and studied law in
New York City. He married into a stately family there — one
of the old "400," in which no one could gain recognition unless
his credentials were of the highest. Had he remained I
am sure that he would have divided honors with the very high
est, for his equipment was complete ; he was perfect physically
and his mind was superb. After a few years his wife died, leav
ing a boy perhaps ten years old. Then came the news of the
gold discoveries in the- west, and he, with some others, char
tered or bought a bark, and after a very long voyage, reached
San Francisco. Marysville had just been "located," and he
went there to begin the practice of his profession. AVhile
erratic in a thousand ways he was as methodical and auto
matic as a piece of machinery. No lawyer ever drew up
the papers in a case with more care. They are models in every
court in which he ever practiced. They were perfect as legal
documents, but in addition there was a style about them which
few lawyers could in the least imitate, for while the strict legal
phraseology was closely clung to, a word here and there gave
them a rhythm which was as though Jove, while framing a
decree, was humming low to himself a strain from one of
Apollo's songs, which mellowed the irrevocable edict. And
still he was a natural poet. When any public occasion required
it. he was on hand with a poem, or a dissertation in prose
which only required to have its measure changed to make it a
poem. Indeed, in Marysville, he practically edited a newspaper
for a long time. Moreover, he was as good an actor as he was
poet or lawyer, and often appeared to help out an amateur play.

COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 219
Later, in Virginia City, he played lago to Lawrence Bar
rett's Othello, and divided the honors with Barrett. From
Marysville he moved to Downieville and a little later was
elected district judge and held the office for years until he vol
untarily gave it up to remove to Virginia City. Fie had not
been long in Downieville until news reached him that his boy
in New York had been killed by a fall from a tree. He was
never quite the same after that. He had the same devotion to
duty ; the same cordial bearing, the same warm-hearted gener
osity; but there was an indefinable change. He was at night
more reckless in throwing off the cares of the day ; his dreams
for a high fortune and great name seemed to begin to fade
away, and he cared less for the approval or at least the applause
of his fellow men. But as a judge he filled every requirement.
We never heard a complaint of his rulings, never heard of any
man who ever cast a reflection on his absolute integrity He
was one of the most perfect presiding officers that we ever saw,
either on the bench or in a convention when the disposition
was sometimes to make things stormy.
He never became confused, never lost his balance, nor his
temper, and with his superb and perfectly practiced and disci
plined voice, his rulings had a cadence and power which were
never appealed from. He was a wonderful elocutionist. He
could read a funeral service in a way to give the listener a feel
ing as though while he read an unseen organ was accom
panying him.
As age came on he grew more dignified and more reck
less. Although I never heard of his quarreling, he had a self-
respect which never failed him. A man had been saying some
mean things about him. He paid no attention to it, but one
morning the same man approached smiling and with a "Good
morning, Colonel," held out his hand. Taylor looked at him
an instant, then turning away said, "Excuse me; I have just
washed my hands."
I returned to Virginia City after an absence of some weeks
and met the colonel a little after dark. We were near one of
the famous saloons of those days, and the colonel insisted that
we must take something. While standing at the bar, a German

220 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
brass band, a new organization, began playing in front of the
saloon. The colonel explained : "It is a new band and the mem
bers need encouragement. Excuse me for one minute." Fie
made a dash for the leader and I went my way.
I met him the next afternoon and asked him how he got
along with his German friends the previous night.
He smiled and said : "Our German-American fellow citi
zens are hard gentlemen to throw clown. It took me until 2
a. m. to do it."
I met him late one night with his partner Judge Camp
bell, and Judge Hardy. All had been drinking a good deal.
Campbell and Hardy were considerably intoxicated. Taylor had
drunk as often as the others, but was fully himself. The propo
sition was for another drink, and Hardy insisted that Taylor
should sing again, "If I Had But a Thousand a Year." Taylor
was as good a singer as he was elocutionist; but he had im
portant business early on the morrow and said that he was
going home.
Iit the meantime, he had managed to whisper to me:
"Hardy is getting his incipient whoop on ; we must get him
home, for when real drunk he becomes mean and quarrelsome."
After a little further parley we started Hardy and Campbell
in front arm in arm walking with unsteady steps ; Taylor and
myself in the rear.
It was one of those still, delicious moonlight nights which
Virginia City is given to in the dog clays.
At the time the Civil war had just closed ; all three, Taylor,
Campbell and Hardy, were Democrats. Hardy a fierce South
ern Democrat, a great friend of Terry, Gwin and the others of
that school. But when the walk started, Campbell struck up
"John Brown's Body Lies A-mouldering in the Grave." and
Hardy joined him. AA'e passed from C street up Union street
to B, and then south on B street.
At one of the big livery stables on B street the stable
boys had a pet black sheep named Joe. Joe was as well known
as the mayor of the city. He had some pretty bad habits. He
was fond of tobacco and especially fond of beer. On this night

COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 221
Joe was lying on the outer edge of the sidewalk enjoying him
self. Just as Campbell and Hardy came opposite him, they
reached the stanza, "John Brown's pet lambs will meet him on
the way," when Joe arose and gave a responsive "Bah." The
singers were too much occupied to notice the aptness of
Joe's response, but Taylor, with a "Did you hear that?" sat
down on the curb of the walk with his feet in the gutter in a
perfect hysteria of laughter. The judges turned up Taylor
street toward A, where they both resided. I went with Taylor
to his gate and left him. Next morning at 10 a. m. he was in
court, and from his words and bearing no one would ever have
discovered that a few hours before he had been sitting on the
edge of the sidewalk with his feet in the gutter and screaming
with laughter over a brief remark made by a black sheep.
He worked two years on a case in which he had a great
fortune pending. It was decided against him in a territorial
court. He told me that all the law and all the facts were in his
favor; other great lawyers said the same, but he would not
say a harsh word of the judge. He had been for several years
a judge himself, but had "the recall" been possible in those
days, I suspect he would have voted for it. He worked on, but
his wild nights became more frequent, and the wrong side of
stocks had something to do with it, for he left Virginia City
fortuneless and passed the remainder of his life in San Fran
cisco. I can but think that had he remained in New York, he
would have made a name as great as Samuel J. Tilden or Ros-
coe Conkling. He had all their high attributes and other
winsome qualities that neither possessed, but lacked one
thing, which was fixedness of purpose. There was so much of
the thoroughbred in him that once in a while if he could not get
proper exercise he would kick a side out of his own stable;
then with his strength and power he was by nature so genial
and so bright that every Bohemian sought him out. He was
the happiest toastmaster that ever presided at a banquet; as
orator of the day, no matter what the occasion, he was always
nerfect; if a role needed filling at the theatre, he could assume
it with perfect grace, and could melt an audience to tears just

222 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
by the way he read a burial service. He should have made
for himself a great name, and would, had he been denied half
his winsome g'ifts, or had his lot been cast where only steady
business was the rule and where the highest society was exact
ing in its requirements.
He was the soul of honor; moreover, he was a devout
Christian. He told me once that Archbishop McCloskey of
New York was the greatest and most winsome man he had
ever met. Under his eye what might not have been his fame?
Had he remained in Sierra county, he would have been judge
for life and held with the highest. But in Virginia City in its
palmy days, there were no brakes on men and every boiler
carried double pressure.
R. H. Taylor was one of the truest and best of friends,
and the keenest regret that followed him to his grave was that
he was not a more exacting friend of himself.

THE OLD STAGE DRIVERS.
MOHAMMED was a camel driver, but he was not like
other camel drivers. The stage drivers in the old
California and Nevada days were not like other stage
drivers. Marysville, California, was headquarters for the
California Stage Company, and it was there that staging was
seen at its fulness.
As soon as it was light on those delicious mornings, the
criers began — one can hear them still, — "Empire Ranch, Rough
and Ready, Grass Valley and Nevada" was the first cry. Then
came "Oregon Ranch, Camptonville, Downieville." Then
"Oroville, Forbestown and Moore's Flat." Then "Tehama, Red
Bluff, Shasta and Yreka," and at steady intervals in a glorified
baritone rang out "Sacramento, Sacramento."
Then, from the stables would come the stages. The horses
had been driven across the plains, turned out on their arrival
and by the next spring they had grown a hand in height, and
when taken up, fed grain and groomed, they were most beau
tiful. The great Troy coaches for twenty-seven passengers and
drawn by eight horses, had the right-of-way. At first they
were driven on alternate days by "Big John" and "Big Jake."
Their real names were John Littlefield and Jacob Putnam.
Later Oscar Ross was put upon that line, but one morning he
ran his coach into an opposition coach and knocked it to pieces,
and a passenger on the opposition coach, as soon as he could
extricate himself from the wreck, fired a full charge of bird
shot, at close range, into Oscar's side and he died three days
later. "Big John" became dissipated and the company took
him from the Sacramento route and gave him one of the Camp
tonville coaches, which were four-horse coaches. After a few
days he made a night with the boys in Camptonville. He was
a little "How-came-you-so" when he mounted the box next
morning, and, going down the Goodyear hill grade, rolled his
coach over, broke the rail from the top of it, bruised badly a

224 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Chinese passenger, but managed to get to Marysville. He
had the coach repaired at his own expense and next morning
drove up in front of the stage office. While waiting for the
time to start, a clerk came out of the office and, walking up to
the coach, said: "Mr. Littlefield, President Hayworth has
instructed me to inform you that your salary has stopped."
Littlefield began to wind the reins around the brake bar,
and in a soft voice which grew harsher as he went on, said:
"My compliments to President Hayworth, and kindly say to
him that while I hate to disappoint him, if what you have just
said is true, I'll be d — d if I drive !"
Robert Robins and his twin brother Dan drove the Shasta
stages, leaving Marysville on alternate days. They were
known as "Curly Bob" and "Curly Dan," because of their
curly hair. As the railroad stretched its way up toward Te
hama and Red Bluff, and staging declined, they came to this
side of the Sierras and drove on the Overland and branch lines.
They were fine looking men and great drivers, and had none
of the wild strata in them which is so common in men of their
calling. Rob died some years ago in Idaho, and Dan in Salt
Lake City a few months ago.
Baldy Green was another famous whip. He was an old-
time California driver and then for years handled the ribbons
on the Overland between Virginia City and Austin.
The last I heard of him he was a justice of the peace in
Humboldt county. His knowledge of law was limited, but
he surely had a great deal of horse sense. He must have been
of the Sancho Panza order of magistrates.
Of course half of the world has heard of Hank Monk.
Before there was any grade over the Sierras and before the
finding of the Comstock, Monk drove a stage between Genoa
and Placerville. It was there that Horace Greeley encoun
tered him and the famous story has been told with more vari
ations than are used when "Home, Sweet Home" is played on
the piano by an amateur. There was not much to it except
that Greeley grew impatient going up the mountains from the
Genoa side and sharply told Monk that he was put down for
a lecture in Placerville that night. Monk with his drawl told

THE OLD STAGE DRIVER. 225
him to keep his seat, that he would have him there on time.
Reaching the summit, Monk shook out his team and Mr. Gree
ley's head collided with the top of the coach at short intervals,
which caused him to cry out to go slower, but Monk's only
reply was: "Keep your seat, Mr. Greeley; I will have you
there on time."
Mr. Greeley did not know it, but the man on the box
was about the most superb reinsman in the world. Flis secret
was his exact calculation. With every ribbon apparently loose,
he would turn a running team on a narrow street, and bring
them to a full stop at exactly the right point.
A friend of mine came clown one evening with Monk from
Glenbrook on Lake Tahoe, to Carson City, fourteen miles, in
forty-five minutes. The friend asked him if he ever rolled a
stage over on that route, for the horses were at full gallop half
the time. "Oh, no," was the reply, "when you strike a level
grade ride your brake and let the stock go ; but when you
turn a curve, take off your brake and give the wheels full play,
because to ride a brake around a curve when going lively might
make you trouble."
Monk had a superior education and was famous for droll
expressions. I was riding beside him once when, nearing a
wayside hotel, a man with overcoat on arm came running
out of the hotel to the coach. Monk pulled up his team, when
the man said : "Monk, have you seen Bill lately?"
"Yes, saw him yesterday; he's coming clown with me to
morrow," was the reply.
The man said he was glad, turned and walked back to the
hotel, and Monk, easing up on the reins, the team trotted on.
When we had gone a few rods, Monk said : "I wonder what
Bill that yahoo meant?"
"What Bill did you mean?" I asked.
"I meant the way-bill," said Monk.
Mrs.  of Virginia City went up to Tahoe in a
carriage one day for a few weeks' rest in the hot weather.
She left her trunk — a skyscraper — to be sent next day by
coach. AVhen Monk reached the hotel at the lake, the lady, a
fidgety little woman, was on the upper piazza looking for her

226 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
trunk. It was not there, and, knowing Monk well, she called
to him and asked where it was.
"They were sawing it in two when I left," he replied. "I
will bring half of it tomorrow and the other half next day."
The lady rushed to her room and cried out to her hus
band : "They are sawing my trunk in two in Carson and all
my good clothes are in that trunk: all my party dresses."
"Oh, well," said the husband, "that will be all right; you
are not more than half dressed anyway when you go to a
party." At last, after many years, Monk tipped a stage over. He
never recovered from the humiliation of it, and died a few
months later.
But when the Comstock was discovered, stages and stage
drivers reached perfection. The coaches were beautiful, the
horses magnificent, covered with ivory rings, tassels on their
head stalls, and trappings generally as splendid as could be
invented. There were two rival lines : the California Stage
Company's line from Dutch Flat via Donner Lake to Virginia
City and Wells Fargo & Company's pioneer line from Placer
ville via Genoa and Carson City to Virginia City. The drivers
were the finest that could be found. Among these were John
Burnett, whose sobriquet was "Sage Brush;" Wm. Gephardt,
"Curly Bill;" Charlie Livermore, and others.
"Sage Brush" was a wonder with the reins. He was
diiving for Jack Gilmer in Nebraska and Dakota when in a
quarrel one night he killed or desperately wounded a man.
The difficulty was fixed up some way, but he thought best to
leave that region, and finally reached Sacramento. He was a
small man and was much travel worn, but he walked into the
stage office then in charge of Grant Israel and asked if he
needed a stage driver.
Israel had just quarreled with a recalcitrant driver and
discharged him, and was in no good humor. Turning fiercely
upon Sage Brush, he said : "A stage driver ? Did you ever
drive a stage?" Sage Brush had a drawl like Mark Twain and
he answered, "A little." "Ever drive two horses?" was Grant's
next question. "Sometimes," said Sage Brush. "Ever drive

THE OLD STAGE DRIVERS. 227
four?" asked Israel. "Occasionally," was the answer. "Ever
drive six?" asked Grant fiercely. "Oh, yes, once in a while,"
said Sage Brush. "AVhen can you go to work?" asked Israel.
"Whenever you like," was the answer. "Do you know where
the stage barns are?" was Israel's next question. Sage Brush
said he did.
"Well," said Israel, "go there tomorrow morning at six
o'clock and tell the men you are to have the six bays for the
Placerville route. Come clown the street that the barn is on
to a block below this, then turn to the left a block, then turn
into this street and bring the coach to this door !" "All right,"
said Sage Brush, and turned to the door. But Israel hailed
him and, calling him back, said : "I suppose you are broke ;
take this," extending a twenty-dollar gold piece, "and get
yourself a square meal !"
"No, thanks," said Sage Brush. "I have plenty of money.
I only drive stage for exercise," and went out.
Then the clerks in chorus said: "Mr. Israel, you surely
are not going to give that team to that emigrant! They will
kill him before he ever reaches this office."
"Suppose they do? You don't know how much I would
give to see a stage driver killed. I have felt that way for a
week." Israel was out on time next morning to see the tenderfoot
bring down the team ; so were the clerks. He did not come
down the back street, but down the street on which the office
was situated, only on the other side, and the team was trotting
along gently enough, all their pranks seemingly put aside.
When a little below the office, the driver seemed to rouse him
self. There was a swift tightening of the reins, a sharp crack
of the whip, the leaders came around on a run, the swings on
a gallop, the wheelers on a fast trot; at just the right moment
all the reins were pulled taut, the driver's toe touched the
brake, from the driver's lips came a low "ehe," and the team
stood still. "A stage driver at last, by  ," cried Israel, and
the clerks said, "You bet."
The stable boys said that before the new driver mounted
the box, he inquired the name of each horse, then went to each

228 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
one, called him by name, rubbed his nose a minute, talking low
to him, and "hoodooed the whole bunch." "Sage Brush"
drove the first coach on the Donner Lake route out of Virginia
City every night, and "Curly Bill" the second. "Curly Bill"
was not nearly so expert a reinsman as was "Sage Brush," but
was a tremendously powerful man. One day a lady in his
coach called to him asking protection from a passenger. The
passenger happened to be a distinguished army officer who had
made a great name in the Civil war. But that day he was in
his cups, and in a vicious mood. Curly Bill got off the box,
and, going to the stage door, said to him that one wearing the
uniform he had on should respect it too much to make a woman
afraid. The officer made an insulting reply, whereupon "Curly
Bill" reached in, took him by the collar and hauled him out,
bringing the door of the coach with him. The officer was
appalled by the terrible strength of the driver, appalled and
sobered. He apologized to "Curly Bill" and to the lady, and
for the rest of the journey was "childlike and bland."
The teams driven in and out of Virginia City were mar
vels, but when the climbing of the Sierras began, less valu
able horses were used. One day at Hunter's Station on the
Truckee, Spaulding, superintendent of the road, asked "Curly
Bill" if he would not for a few days exchange his team going
west from there for that of "Sage Brush." At this "Curly
Bill" demurred, saying that he had taken pains with his team,
that they traveled together like clock work, and he did not
want to give them up. Then Spaulding said : "But that team
of Sage Brush's are big half-breeds, wild as Zebras and a bit
vicious withal, and 'Sage Brush' is afraid that some day when
he has a big load of passengers on the grade something will
happen and he will have a spill."
"Oh, that is different!" said Bill. "Give me the right-of-
way and I will try them." The next day the passengers were
seated in the coach and Bill was on the box when the "devils"
were brought out. It required two men to each horse to hook
them to the stage, then the reins were passed to Bill, and he
nodded to let them go. They all sprang into a run, over the
bridge they flew and up the road for a mile, when Bill said to

THE OLD STAGE DRIVERS. 229
a man beside him: "I wonder if they are real game." With
that he gathered the reins, touched his foot to the brake, and
all six went up into the air as though they had struck a stone
wall. 'Why, they're dunghills," said Bill, and, taking his
whip, he lashed them for a mile, then threw them up into the
air again, and thus lashed them and hauled them up by turns
all the way to Crystal Peak. They went into Crystal Peak in a
sickly lope. They were all afoam and trembling almost in a
collapse of exhaustion.
"Sage Brush" had crowded Bill's team to the utmost, and
reached the Peak a few minutes later.
Bill, pointing to the panting, trembling horses, said :
"They are broke, Sage Brush." And Sage Brush replied:
"They look it."
When the railroad superceded the stage, "Curly Bill"
established a livery stable in Virginia City and later removed
it to San Francisco, where he died last year.
"Sage Brush" drifted to White Pine and then back to
Austin. There one night he ran upon his own sister in a
questionable place, went to his room and shot himself dead.
Charlie Livermore drove out and into Virginia City on
the Placerville route.
At the beginning of this paper I made reference to Big
John Littlefield. After losing his situation in California, he
went to Virginia City and his friend, Deland, who had the
Eclipse mine, gave him a fine six-horse team and wagon and
set him to hauling quartz. But he got full, let the team get
away from him and smash the wagon. Livermore told me
that one morning he was driving his coach up the steep grade
through Gold Hill. He had his pet six-horse chestnut team
with all their trappings on, a full load, inside and out, of pas
sengers, ladies and gentlemen, and he believed he had the finest
team and coach in the world. Then he caught sight of Big-
John — who had driven the Troy coa.ch and eight horses be
tween Marysville and Sacramento — driving a donkey not much
bigger than a jack rabbit on a whim close beside the road.
Livermore said : "I was foolish enough to call to him and say,
'Why, John, what are you doing there?' when, in a voice like

230 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
a fog horn John shouted back, T am trying to see to how d — d
fine a point I can reduce this stage-driving business'."
Littlefield went north and died, I believe, in Oregon many
years ago.
After the collapse of staging in Nevada, Livermore went
to Arizona to drive on a line there. He had nothing left but
one ivory ring such as are used where the reins cross between
a team. His first drive was in the night, and his only instructions
were to follow the road. He was given four mules as wild as
deer. It took several men to hitch them up ; when they started
it was on a run. A jolt put out all the lights. After a few
minutes the coach stopped and the leaders disappeared in the
darkness, the lead reins being pulled through Charley's hands.
His first word was "Keno !'
Someone trying to find water had sunk a great shaft fifty
feet deep, the lead mules had run directly into this shaft. As
they fell the goose neck of the wagon pole broke, leaving the
wheelers and coach on the brink. Asked what he thought,
Livermore said : "I knew in a minute that my ivory ring was
gone forever."
When Big Jake gave up staging he went to Virginia City
and opened a bank, — not a national bank, but one of King
Faro's, and became wealthy. Each year when the snow was
deep and the sleighing good, it was his custom to hire a four
or six horse team and sleigh with double bob-runners, fill the
sleigh with robes and children and give the children the ride of
their lives.
They are all gone. I do not know one of the old band
that is left.
The world will never see their like again unless somewhere
in the Cordilleras or Andes another Comstock may be found,
beyond the reach of railroads, where steep grades will have to
be climbed and descended and sharp curves rounded and com
merce will have to return to old methods.
As it is, the old race have all passed away as did that
driver in Sacramento, who, when dying, whispered: "It's a
clown grade and I can't reach the brake."

JUDGE ALEXANDER BALDWIN.
IN Nevada he was known as "Sandy" Baldwin; a small
man about five feet eight in height, weighing perhaps
135 pounds. Had he been born a bird, he would have
been a game rooster or an eagle.
Fie was the son of the famous Judge Joe Baldwin of
Alabama, who wrote "Flush Times in Alabama." Sandy was
not as great a lawyer or as profound a scholar as his father,
but was growing to be both when overtaken by an untimely
death. He was one of the partners of William M. Stewart in
Virginia City when he was appointed a United States circuit
judge for Nevada.
This appointment sobered him a good deal, for he fully
realized the responsibilities of the place, and notwithstanding
his impetuous nature and the strong prejudices which he never
sought to conceal, in his rulings an enemy was liable to fare
better than a friend, for his thought seemed to be : "Would it
not be a shame were I to permit my personal dislikes to sway
my judicial judgment in weighing the legal rights of this
man." So he gave him the benefit of all his doubts.
But it was when practicing law in Virginia City that he
shone best. His audacity was something beautiful to see, and
he kept his natural impudence burnished bright, though his
hearty good nature made every one fond of him.
One day in a case a great deal of trouble was encountered
in selecting- a jury. The attorney opposed to Sandy was one
given to spending much time on details, some of them trifling
in importance. Finally, Sandy appealed to the court, pointing
out that half the day had been spent on trifles not worth con
sidering, adding that a few minutes were as good as a few
hours in reaching a conclusion whether a man was competent
to sit on a jury or not.
His opponent replied that he was bound to use every

232 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
precaution and that he wanted the cause of his client tried by
a jury of his peers.
Quick as a flash Sandy responded : "I see, you are expect
ing a break from the Nevada penitentiary and that all the
convicts will make a rush for Story county to serve on juries."
In those years of 1861-62 and '63 about the hottest thing
in Storey county was politics. Parties were about equally di
vided and party feeling ran very high. A contingent of the
Knisrhts of the Golden Circle was there and it was understood
that if a break was made in California a like stand would be
made in Virginia City. There were many sharp quarrels and
here and there a man was killed, but when Sumter was fired
upon, most of the Douglas Democrats joined with the Repub
licans, while the southern wing of the Democracy clung to the
cause of the south.
Sandy was from the South, but he was a Union man, and
this made the chivalry hate him worse than they did northern
born Union men. But Sandy cared nothing for that.
One day a southern man was telling of the loss his family
in the south would suffer should their slaves be freed, where
upon Sandy offered to bet him a thousand dollars to five hun
dred that no member of his family ever owned a slave; that
in the south he belonged to the "poor white trash," that even
the slaves had a contempt for, adding: "I know you by your
walk. You have that shamble which is hereditary with your
class of poor whites."
Before the autumn election in 1864 the Democrats had a
county convention in Virginia City and determined to have a
torchlight procession at night. The torches were secured and
a brass band engaged and the procession started. It made a
fine showing as it marched up C Street ; the band playing and
the men cheering.
Sandy was watching, but suddenly stepped from the side
walk into the narrow street, and, touching one of the link men
on the shoulder, with a stately courtesy, said : "Excuse me,
my friend, and pardon my suggesting that you carry your
torch nearer vertical, lest you burn the hair from the teeth of
the gentleman next behind you." He deserved killing every

JUDGE ALEXANDER BALDWIN. 233
day for the things he said, but somehow they never killed him.
The Republicans held a convention in Virginia City once,
and a somewhat noted speaker was very bitter on the south,
of the men who lived on the unpaid labor of the slaves, and
spoke generally disdainfully of southern men and methods.
When he finished, . Sandy sprang to his feet and made a
speech, the tenor of which was something like this :
"I hope never to hear another speech such as we have just
listened to, for it is hard for some of us to bear.
"The south is wrong now, but they are a brave and im
petuous race and I can understand how, environed as they are,
as their lives have been, they have been led into their present
attitude. I am satisfied that had I remained there, I should have
been with them heart and soul. But no matter how much in
the wrong they may be, there is no nobler race of men than
they ; they treat their slaves better than the gentleman who has
just a'ddressed you would had he been a slaveholder among
them ; and the man who discounts the manhood of the men or
the womanhood of the women of the south, is to be pitied for
his ignorance, for he knows nothing of what he essays ta
discuss." Judge Baldwin had a high and proud career in Nevada
and grew in intellect as the years went by, but suddenly in the
very prime of his manhood and when his abilities were at their
highest, he was, in 1869, killed instantly in a railroad collision
near Alameda, California.
He was greatly missed and mourned in Nevada.
He would have been a distinct personality in any country ;
so game was he, so alert, so audacious and yet so kindly. He
had all the attributes that go to make up a brilliant and stal
wart man ; he was an honor to his name, to the state that gave
him birth, to the state in which he was so conspicuous a figure
for fifteen years. He was buried from the home of his great
relative, John B. Felton, in Oakland, and the winds that sweep
in through the Golden Gate pause to murmur over no braver
grave than his.
Judge Baldwin's wife was one of the most beautiful
women of the west coast. About the time of the judge's death
16

234 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
the wife of General John B. AVinter, Superintendent of the
Yellow Jacket mine at Gold Hill, died. The families had been
intimate friends and two or three years after the death of
Judge Baldwin and Mrs. AVinter, the General and Mrs. Bald
win were married, and a little later removed to San Francisco.
From the beginning of the mining on the Comstock a
weird woman lived there. She kept a boarding house at first
in Gold Hill, but became the owner of twenty feet in one of
the Gold Hill mines; the Alta, I believe. "Sandy" Bowers,
an illiterate and uncouth man in many ways, a rough miner,
also owned twenty feet of the Gold Hill ground. He boarded
at the house of this woman and soon made her acquaintance;
they were each receiving large dividends from their interests ;
at last they were married and their united ground, when sold,
made them very rich.
Mrs. Bowers claimed to possess the second sight, and I
guess she did, for she told people many things which seemed
to have no more substance than a vagrant dream, but, as a
rule, they came true. She was called "the Washoe seeress,"
and some of the strongest men on the Comstock were wont
to consult her. She knew Judge and Mrs. Baldwin well, as
she did almost everyone else in western Nevada.
One day in 1877, I think, she met R. M. Daggett on the
street and Daggett accosted her in his cheery way, with :
"What's the news, Mrs. Bowers ?"
She replied : "I have something very strange to tell you,
Mr. Daggett. I was alone riding in my buggy down in the
valley last night, when suddenly Sandy (Baldwin) sat on the
seat beside me. I hate to have him come, for he is always
jollying me the same as he used to when in the old days I met
him here in Virginia City.
"But last night there was an exultant, joyous look on his
face — a kind of glory — and he held up before me a pair of
white gloves — you never saw anything of such celestial white
ness as were those gloves, and he whispered : 'Alice will be a
bride again tonight.' Have you heard any news from San
Francisco this morning?"
Daggett replied that he had not, that he had just come

JUDGE ALEXANDER BALDWIN. 235
down town and was on the way to his office. As he ascended
the stairs, he was saying to himself : "The old lady is grow
ing more and more uncanny." Fie entered his office, hung up
his hat and sat down at his desk, when there before him lay a
sealed telegraph dispatch. He tore it open and read the fol
lowing : "San Francisco, Cal.,  .
"Editor Enterprise, Va. City, Nev.
"Mrs. John B. Winter — she who was the late Judge
Alexander Baldwin's wife, died in this city at 1 :15 o'clock this
morning." All their friends hope that the phantom gloves were
drawn in all their whiteness upon her ghostly hands that night
and that their second honeymoon is to last through all eternity.

PROFESSOR JOSHUA CLAYTON.
THE schools do not perfect all the great men, or open for
them avenues to travel up the trails which lead to success.
They do not supply half the school masters of this
world, for now and then there comes one who can teach the
masters. The heroes do not all appear on the battle line, or on the
decks of fighting ships, for the bravest of the brave are those
who fight their way through the dark ambuscades of ignorance
and poverty and superstition up into the celestial light.
Joshua Clayton was one of these. Born somewhere in the
wild mountainous regions of Georgia, in the heroic squalor
which abounded there some four score years ago, where poverty
was accepted as a matter of course, but where a fierce manhood
would brook no criticisms, nor acknowledge that there was
anything to be apologized for ; in those primitive surroundings
Joshua Clayton was born and grew to manhood.
All his life, to his credit, he was proud of the manhood
and exalted womanhood of that region, his belief being that it
was from such stock that primitive man emerged and from
which, when the right germs began to expand, civilization and
enlightenment were finally evolved.
Somehow he learned to read and write, and to obtain the
simplest rudiments of an education. We suspect that he owed
more to a glorified mother than to all the schools — we mean
schools taught by men and women.
But of the other school, that of nature, he was a pupil all
his days ; from rocks and trees and stars all his life he drew
knowledge which through the chemistry of genius he trans
muted into wisdom.
He would have been a boon companion of John Muir.
Together they would have searched the recprd of the glacier
and discovered the vital energies that set it in flow; where the
earthquake had been upon its march, like camp followers, they

PROFESSOR JOSHUA CLAYTON. 237
would have unearthed from the debris it left why it was
wakened to life and the object of its campaign.
He was an omniverous reader; a lifelong student, who,
after a hard day's toil loved nothing so much, to rest himself,
as to spend half the night in working out some scientific prob
lem. He went over the problems that other scientists had
solved and 'tried them to see if they would stand the test of
later knowledge, and many a time he pointed out their errors.
He was one who, had no elements of science ever been
reduced to rule and form, would have promulgated the rules
and established the forms. Often he would modestly demon
strate by exact figures or illustrations where this or that great
man had erred, both in theory and in elucidation, at the same
time explaining how natural was the mistake with such lights
as the learned men had before them at the time they lived.
He came with the Argonauts to the west coast, and his
years in California were devoted to study, and to obtain means
to live upon he worked in the placers and in the quartz mills.
He was an expert worker of gold ores.
Give him a shell and he would at a glance tell you to what
age it belonged and how long its former inmate was engaged
in building the house in which he lived before
"* * * he was free,
Leaving his outgrown shell by life's unresting sea."
To his opinions on all these questions, Clarence King,
Raymond — the whole array of scientists, conceded his superi
ority. He loved to sit by the hour where the earthquake had
rent the earth's crust, and explain why it was attended by cer
tain profound phenomena.
He loved to explain why the glacier was but a sublime
preliminary in preparing the earth for races of intelligent
beings, which at the time and for millions of years thereafter
had no existence save in the mind of God.
Could such a man have strolled quietly into Athens and
found Socrates teaching the youth of the city, he would have
sat clown beside the great scientist and explained that from the

238 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
croppings and other surface indications the old sage was
mistaken.
Fie was always humble, cheerful, kindly and passionately
fond of real friends, but he really needed no society except
his hand hammer, his magnifying glass and a mountain crest
covered with shells and rocks.
With these he could summon all the ages around him, all
the master spirits of the past, and be at home with them.
He became a great geologist; he read surface indications as
an open book. In this he never made but one mistake.
He was prone to tell from surface indications what would
surely be found in the deep, and this propensity he could never
outgrow. He knew the rock formations were full of faults ;
that the chimneys in the fissures up which the treasures were
drawn were often closed, but he seemed to have a passion for
what would surely be found below, and thus made mistakes.
He said from the first, as did Professor Frank Stewart,
that the natural pitch of the Comstock was to the east, and
gave his reasons for his belief in the face of Professor Silli-
man's judgment, and was right. He was the first, we believe,
to call attention to the mighty future which Ely district would
have, and in his wanderings he took in every known mining
camp of Nevada and passed upon its worth.
Then he explored Utah and later Montana, and in almost
every case his translations of the hieroglyphics which the ages
had inscribed upon the rocks, were right.
AVhen the clay's work was completed it was a fascination
to listen to him as he recalled his life since reaching California.
Before anyone else had done it, he had counted the little records
made by the years on the stump of a mighty Sequoia in Cala
veras county, California, to make sure of the age of the big
tree. He told me that it was 978 years old when King John
signed the Magna Charta and 1255 years old when Columbus
first sailed for the New World. He sketched for me the
work of the glaciers in grinding down the shales and freeing
the gold found in California placers. It was a great shock to
him when silver was demonetized. "What are they thinking
of?" he said. Then he explained that from the first the increase

PROFESSOR JOSHUA CLAYTON. 239
and decrease of the production of the precious metals had
marked the ebb and flow of civilization ; that from the first
gold had been the money of kings and the rich of the world,
that silver had been the anchor of the poor ; that when in Jeru
salem "silver was no more accounted," the masses of the people
were so steeped in poverty and in such despair that so soon as
Solomon died, they revolted under unbearable burdens ; that
the infusion of silver into Europe from Mexico and Peru at
last gave the poor the courage to cry out for freedom and the
French revolution was the final explosion. Then he predicted
that with gold the only standard in the United States, it would
speedily be absorbed by the rich and panics and depression
would follow.
He was an intense American. When in a frenzy his native
state framed a secession ordinance, he read the account, grow
ing very white and still, then dropped the paper, sat for a long
time in silence, and those near him heard him, speaking low to
himself, murmur : "Father, forgive them for they know not
what they do."
A rare, high, brave, humble soul ; for forty years he made
but a doubtful living in the states of California, Nevada, Utah,
Idaho, Montana and Oregon, and was finally fatally injured in
a stage coach accident. Not one in a hundred of those who
knew him half appreciated his marvelous intellect or the
grandeur and nobility of his soul.
They made his grave in the beautiful cemetery that over
looks the city of Portland, Oregon. It is such a place as he
would have chosen for a resting place, for there nature is lavish
in her splendors, and a hush like the calm of his own soul
broods over the place even as when a mother bird gathers under
her wings her brood that they undisturbed may sleep.
Below, the clear Willamette winds through its lovely
valley; in the distance "rolls the Oregon," and Hood, and Jef
ferson, and Adams and St. Helens and the other sentinel moun
tains keep perpetual guard around his grave. After his high
and blameless life, it is sweet to think of him wrapped in the
hush of eternity amid just such scenes as were his rest and
delight in life.

ADOLPH SUTRO.
HE AArAS a massive and masterful man physically. He
must have been six feet and two inches in height and
big every way. AAmen I knew him best, he weighed
perhaps two hundred and thirty-five pounds, but was as active
as a boy and seemed ever driven on by an energy that never
tired. He had a lion-like face and a brain that was always
alert and strong.
He was an early comer to San Francisco from some Ger
man state. It is said, and his after life was a confirmation of
the story, that he brought with him several kegs of German
coins, worth about seventeen cents each. It was most diffi
cult in California at that time to get the small change needed
in business. There were plenty of slugs (fifty dollar octagon
pieces) twenty and ten and five dollar pieces, but small change
was very scarce. So the German coins passed readily for
twenty-five cent pieces and Mr. Sutro lost no money on them.
He opened or purchased a modest cigar and tobacco store and
attended to it carefully, but his brain was at work. He kept
posted on everything that concerned business in the Golden
State, watched, studied and waited.
When the Comstock was discovered with its mixed gold
and silver ores — the values were 56 silver and 44 gold — there
was not a man in the United States who could reduce the ores
in a practical way and give a fair percentage of the values,
except by smelting them; there was no flux to do that, and
the great body of ore was too low grade to bear shipping to
where it could be smelted. It was clear that the reduction
must be near the mines. Rude mills were erected, but the loss
suffered by running the ores through them was enormous.
The old Spanish Patio process was tried, but that was too slow
and imperfect. In those days, about one man out of four had
a process for working the ores, most of which were, of course,
worthless. Colonel Brevoort had a little mill down at Silver City

ADOLPH SUTRO. 241
and made a small fortune running it, but all the time was at
work in his laboratory and succeeded. With a few ounces of
crushed ore he could draw all the precious metals they con
tained to one pole of his battery. He sold his mill, went east
and exhausted the fortune he had made in trying to make his
invention of practical value, but failed.
Mr. Sutro must have invented a process, for he crossed
the mountains and built a small mill at Dayton. Like the pru
dent man that he was, he had the mill insured. But it would
not work the ores, and, after making several trials, he closed
the mill down. Shortly after, one night the mill burned clown.
No one could ever account for the fire, but that it was an honest
one there could be no doubt, for Mr. Sutro was at Virginia
City that night and the keeper was burned to death in the mill.
From the beginning much water was encountered in sink
ing on the Comstock and that it must be drained by tunnels
was accepted as a fact. One or more short tunnels were run.
After the burning of the mill, Sutro took up this scheme in
earnest. He had surveys made, maps prepared and demon
strated that a tunnel about four miles long started on the banks
of the Carson River, north of Dayton, and driven to the Com
stock would tap the great lode some 1,650 feet below C street
in Virginia City.
He organized a company. He showed that the great ore
channel could be drained and all the ores from the mine could
be run out through the tunnel far cheaper than to transport
them by wagon. Then it was most natural to expect that in
its course the tunnel would encounter other paying veins, par
allel to the great lode. The mining companies along the lode
looked upon the scheme as practical and at first gave it full
encouragement. Sutro knew nothing about running tunnels, but with his
disposition to dominate everything he insisted not only upon
acting as superintendent, but upon superintending the details
of which he knew nothing. He bought shiploads, almost, of
machinery which proved worthless, and ran the business in a
way which was clear evidence of incapacity.
In the meantime, some of the shrewdest and squarest in-

242 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
dustrial chieftains ever seen in the AArest were opening the
Comstock; they would not stand for Sutro's work, and when
they told him what must be and he refused, there was a quarrel
and they washed their hands of the enterprise.
Then Sutro began his clamors against them. He desig
nated them as the "bank ring," which, in his broken English,
he pronounced "bankving," and for years his denunciations of
the "bankving" were incessant, and the perfidy which he in
sisted had been practiced upon him was one of his chief argu
ments for selling the tunnel stock.
Meanwhile the men at work on the great lode were doing
more and more superb work. They installed more and more
and larger and larger pumps, sank deeper and deeper until,
by the time the tunnel reached the lode, the mine was opened
1,000 feet deeper than where the tunnel pierced it, and thus
the great necessity of the tunnel was largely discounted. After
years of trial, Sutro finally relinquished all but the general su-
perintendency, leaving the driving of the tunnel to the capable
men below ground.
Then the political bee that had hived in Sutro's bonnet be
gan to buzz. By 1872 he was prominent in politics. He was
loud in his praises of the gentleman who, for the two previous
years, had been Nevada's Democratic congressman, declaring
that he was the only honest man that Nevada had sent to either
House of Congress for years ; that he was one man who could
not be corrupted.
It transpired later that in some quiet way the Congress
man had reached an understanding with Sutro by which Sutro
felt sure that he could depend upon the Congressman serving
him in any way he might suggest. But he must have been
mistaken, for within a brief half-year, Sutro was not only
denouncing him as the biggest thief of the whole bunch, but.
moreover, the most treacherous and ungrateful one.
As a sample of Sutro's methods, as that election drew
near, he employed all the men who made applications for work
until he had within and about the tunnel fifteen hundred men.
Then three days before the election he assembled them
and made a speech, the burden of which was that if his

ADOLPFI SUTRO. 243
friend, the Congressman, should be re-elected they could all
depend upon permanent employment, but if he failed of elec
tion, he would be obliged to close down the entire works.
His friend was elected and on the first payday after elec
tion they were all dropped except the regular force of about
one hundred and forty men.
In 1874 Sutro was a pronounced candidate for the United
States Senate. He established a daily newspaper on the Com
stock and employed that fine writer and man, Charles Sumner,
of San Francisco, to manage and edit it. Charlie did his best
and did great work, but we have a suspicion that for years
thereafter he would have been willing to certify that the work
was the toughest in his experience. Sutro himself rigged up a
magic lantern and made an illuminating campaign of the state.
There seemed to be sort of an affinity between him and the
lantern. At Hamilton, in the midst of his speech, the lantern
grew suddenly dim, the voice of Sutro began to falter ; then
the lamp blazed up for a moment and the speech was resumed
with energy, then the lamp dimmed again, and with a final
sputter went out and just as suddenly the lecture closed.
I was editor of the Virginia Enterprise at the time, and
early in the campaign I promised Sutro, through the paper,
that he should not have one vote for Senator in the Legislature.
And he did not.
His feelings were much lacerated by the result, but the
people contemplated his sufferings with dry eyes.
He sold the stock of the tunnel only, as he claimed, to get
money to complete it. The men of his native country and of
his race purchased the most of it, and it was with apparent
great sorrow that he let any of it go ; it would, as he predicted,
pay such princely dividends when completed.
Shortly after the tunnel pierced the lode, Sutro resigned
the superintendency, shook the sage-brush and the dust of
Nevada from his brogans and removed to San Francisco.
Then the stockholders discovered that despite his high
estimation of the value of the stock, he had been persuaded to
unload practically the whole of it upon his friends ; they had
the stock and the experience ; Sutro had a good many millions

244 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
of dollars. This I have from one of his own race and one of
the heaviest stockholders in the tunnel.
I did not follow his career very closely in San Francisco.
He transformed the spot now called "Sutro Heights" and pre
sented it to the city. How the gift affected the value of his
other real estate in the neighborhood I never learned. He
served a term as mayor, and I am informed made a good mayor.
It seemed clear to some of us that he was still working for
the position he had so long coveted — a United States senator-
ship. His career was suddenly cut short by death.
But no one must lose sight of the fact that he was a mas
terful man, physically and mentally, that with the absence of
two or three traits which were inborn, he would have been a
great and commanding man, that, as it was, the work he wrought
through the long years in which the tunnel was building was
a tremendous one, such an evidence of courage, faith and ten
acity of purpose as few men have shown, and that the tunnel
today is the splendid monument which he built to himself — out
of the sale of his stock.

HARRY MIGHELS.
A SMALL man physically was Harry Mighels, but the
concentration of genius, audacity and pluck. In young
manhood he was associate editor with Crossett on a
newspaper in Oroville, California. They made it the most
sprightly and interesting newspaper in northern California. At
that time, Oroville was but a mining camp, the depot and sup
ply station of extensive placer mining, where, from the ordi
nary simple washing of gold from the sands, there was the
damming of the rivers in the autumn, and the washing of their
beds down to bed rock.
The rivers were dammed, the waters turned aside in
flumes and ditches, and then the rush to mine out the
section thus exposed before the heavy rains of the autumn
came, and the rivers, crushing everything before them,
returned to their channels. If the dry season was long con
tinued, little fortunes were made; if the rains came early, for
tunes were lost. It was entirely legitimate work, but it was,
nevertheless, absolute gambling. A man or company in effect
wagered, say $20,000 on the weather. The bet was that it
would not rain before a certain time. If it did not, then the
man or company won from $50,000 to $200,000 through wash
ing the gravel above bedrock. A great many men won for
tunes that way, and were at once rated as shrewd, sagacious
miners. If the rains came unexpectedly early and the invest
ment was lost, there were plenty to aver that any fool could
have told them that it was impossible to turn the stream in
time to wash the river bed.
But there was a great deal of this work clone, and that was
an exceedingly rich gold region is still in full evidence, for the
steam dredge has laid waste all the region around there to filch
from it its gold, even to the extent of tearing up the orange
orchards on the river's banks.
It was there that Mighels reveled in the excitement of
mingling with the hundreds and thousands of the old-day

246 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
miners. He wrote extravagant stories, the more extravagant
the better they suited; he said through the type audacious
things about miners real and fictitious, and the miners laughed
over them; he was little more than a boy and small in stature,
and the miners said : "Is he not a game and saucy little cuss?"
He was a devoted lifelong friend of George C. Gorham; and
was to Oroville what Gorham was to Marysville.
On one occasion it was determined to give a grand ball
in Oroville. In anticipation of it, Mighels drank too much Cal
ifornia wine. It was a new beverage then and cheap, and it is
true that while French grapes carry but a little more than three
per cent of alcohol those of California carry from thirteen to
sixteen per cent.
The result was that when it was time for the dancing to
begin, Harry was not in a condition for dancing, except that
when he attempted to walk his motion took on some of the con
ditions of a two-step ; but it was not keeping step with any
music. His sublime confidence never deserted him. He
approached Mrs. Crossett, as the skilful captain does the en
emy's earthworks — by zig-zags, and besought the honor of a
dance. Mrs. Crossett, with a laugh, said: "Not, now, Harry;
there is not room on the floor for all your steps," and taking
the arm of another gentleman, proceeded to the ball room, leav
ing Harry in the most indignant and unforgivable mood in the
world. A short hall connected the reception and ball rooms.
Mighels worked his way to this hall, and when the dance was
over and the dancers came out, as Mrs. Crossett approached,
Harry, with a lofty air, said : "Mrs. Crossett, I wish to speak
to you." "What is it, Harry?" was the lady's reply. He
straightened up and extending his right arm, said : "I wish to
inform you, madam, that in my opinion you are no gentleman."
The truth of the remark could not be questioned, and it
added to the hilarity of the occasion.
When the great Civil war came on, Harry did not hesitate
for a moment. He took the first steamer for the East, enlisted
and was given a place on General Joe Hooker's staff.
At Antietam he was desperately wounded. When stretched
upon the operating table, the surgeons examined the wound,

HARRY MIGHELS. 247
and their faces became grave. Harry was watching them, and
in a feeble voice said to the chief surgeon: "What are my
chances, doctor?" With a compassionate voice, the surgeon
replied : 'I am sorry to say you have not more than one chance
in ten to live." "One in ten," replied Mighels cheerily. "I
will take that chance. I tell you there was never a rebel bullet
cast that could kill me." He finally pulled through, but was
long recovering and never again could join the army. After
the war, he returned to California and soon drifted to Nevada.
There some old and new friends endorsed for him and he
established the Carson Appeal. He ran it with all the old-time
vigor. When the Virginia and Truckee Railroad was under con
struction it was impossible to get competent white laborers
except at miner's wages, and the company obtained Chinese
graders from the Southern Pacific. They graded the
road from Carson up to the Storey county line. (Vir
ginia City is in Storey county. ) Then a delegation of the Corn-
stock Miners' union called upon Mr. Yerington, the superin
tendent of the little road, and told him that if his Chinese
graders ever tried to extend the grade over the county line
something very serious would certainly happen, and advised
him not to try it.
Mighels, at the time was under many obligations to the
owners of the little road, and day after day, through the
Appeal, scored the foreign-born miners who would not permit
another class of foreigners to earn their bread in a class of
work which the miners would not engage in at any price. His
anathemas against the foreign-born miners were terrible. All
that invective and scorn could invent was poured out through
the Appeal morning after morning, and when anything espe
cially savage appeared, Mighels would go to Virginia City
that day and walk the streets with the biggest chip on his
shoulder that a man of his size ever carried.
Some years later a political convention nominated him
for lieutenant-governor. He stumped the state and the date of
his meeting in Virginia City was advertised some days in
advance.

248 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
His opponent went to the library and from the Appeal
files copied the most furious of the expressions that he had
used in his fight upon the, foreign miners ; had them set up and
struck off in leaflets which by thousands were scattered over
the sidewalks on the afternoon of the clay on which Mighels
was advertised to speak.
That same afternoon, Harry came into the Enterprise
editorial rooms and said to me : "They are going to pack the
house on me tonight. Some of them are hot enough to shoot
or bring on a riot. AVhat is your idea of the best way to meet
those wild devils?' I said, "I don't know, Harry, except in
my thought, as lots of them are fighters, they will stand a brave
bluff better than an apology."
The meeting came off as advertised and about midnight
Mighels came again to the Enterprise office, and in response to
the inquriy of "What kind of a meeting did you have, Harry?"
he said: "The sons of guns, they came there to scoff; they
went away to pray."
One who was at the meeting told me what happened. His
words were about as follows :
"The gallery was packed to the limit with men who were
there for any kind of a row up to riot and murder.
"Mighels, with no introduction, walked to the front of
the stage- with a bunch of leaflets that had been scattered on
the street, in his right hand. The house was as still as a Cali
fornia morning when an earthquake was scheduled for that day.
"Holding up the leaflets, Mighels, looking up at the hos
tile rows of faces in the gallery, said : 'I suppose the few of
you who can read have read these things to the rest of you.
Let me tell you something. I wrote them. Every word of
them. ' 'AVhy I wrote them you will never know, for the secrets
of the sanctum are as sacred as the secrets of the confessional.
" 'I am a candidate for lieutenant-governor. I would,
inasmuch as I have been nominated, like to get as many votes
as possible, but let me inform you that I do not need the office.
I have that little printing office down at Carson ; I have enough
paper on hand to last me ten or fifteen days ; I have a wife and

HARRY MIGHELS. 249
four children,' then, retreating a step, he slowly picked up a
glass of water from the table, took a swallow, and slowly
set down the glass. Suddenly lifting his fist and bringing it
down with a resounding blow on the table, he shouted : 'And
they are all mine.'
"The audacity of it all, the certain conviction that came
to those who had gone there to break up his meeting, that
they might do it, that possibly they might kill him but never
scare him, came upon them in a flash and they shook the house
with their cheers, and cheered every point he made during
the meeting, and at its close left the house saying as did the
Oroville miner twenty-five years earlier, 'Is he not a game and
saucy little cuss ?' "
But even then an insidious and fatal disease had begun
its work upon him, and a few months later he died. His was a
distinct individuality wherever he went.
I heard him once talking to Mr. Sharon. It was when
Mr. Sharon was a candidate for United States senator and he
wanted Mighels to support or fight some proposition. I do not
remember what it was, when Mighels refused.
Sharon at last told him that he was too poor to be so inde
pendent. "Poor," said Mighels. "You ought to see my last
baby. Why, I am richer than you are." Then Sharon told
him not to talk like a d — d fool. "Was I talking like a d — d
fool?" asked Mighels. "Of course, you were," was Sharon's
reply. Turning to me, Mighels said : "Is it not wonderful
how I can adjust my language to the comprehension of some
dull men?" His death was a great loss. He was a decided genius,
and he was growing mentally every day. Had he survived
but a few years, the highest places would have been open to
him, and he would have filled them, filled any place in the gift
of his people, with wonderful ability and perfect integrity, and
with a courage that nothing could daunt. Great Harry ; poor
Harry, may his last, long sleep be sweet.

17

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS-"MARK TWAIN."
MOST of the intelligent people of the world are familiar
with the personal appearance of Mark Twain, as he
was on earth. Of medium height and weight, dark
complexion, eyes and hair like an Indian, a strong, expressive
face, a beautiful head, as a man ; and one, who, when a baby,
must have been a mother's darling ; and as she held him to her
breast she fondly believed that he would grow up to be not
only bright and respectable, but a wonder among his fellow-
men. I have an idea that a mother's thought, if intense enough,
makes its impression upon the child before or after birth, and
that that impression lasts and in a measure controls the child
through all its life. And I am ready to believe that what
was best in Mark Twain came of that impression.
Abraham Lincoln was born in squalor ; his childhood was
so pitiable that men recoil when they read the story of it.
Through one fierce winter the rude house in which he lived had
but three sides to it, the fourth was open to the pitiless winds
that swept across the Indiana prairies. But perhaps it was
through that open side of the house that the great angel came,
and noting the rude cradle within, bent and touched the
lips of the sleeping child with the signet of immortality. But
it is more acceptable to believe that the mother, destitute of all
other treasures save that baby, so yearned with love about it
and so impressed her life upon it that as the years went by, the
fruition of those hopes was reached and that thus the man
became immortal.
Mark Twain was born in Florida, Monroe county, Mis
souri. There is nothing to show that he was different from the
other boys around him.
Missouri was crude in many ways when he was a boy,
but it had great old forests which gave out nuts and wild bees
in the autumn, and there were fields where "roasting ears,"
cantaloupes and watermelons grew, and forest and field sup
plied plenty of joys to boyhood. The chances, too, are that

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN." 251
Mark fell in love very early, and possibly that event of his life
was later the inspiration of "Tom Sawyer." Then he wan
dered off to the big river in Missouri and by a sort of natural
gravity we hear of him first as an assistant pilot on a Missis
sippi steamboat. Later, I believe, he became a real pilot, though
an old man has been reported recently as saying that he taught
him what he knew as a pilot, but told him that he never would
be a good one — that he was too funny.
The first I heard of him was when he began to write
communications for the Territorial Enterprise, published in
Virginia City, and his communications were signed "Mark
Twain." There is a little interim between the time that he
ceased to be a pilot and the time when he became a miner in
Nevada that I cannot connect by any data that I can secure.
It was whispered that early in 1861 he was for a time in the
Rebel army. It is possible that he was one of the Missouri
State guards. If he was, he grew tired of the work pretty
soon. It is quite possible that he had an experience like another
Missourian — a learned judge that I once knew. He told me
that they organized a Confederate company or two in St. Joe,
that they raised the Confederate flag over the courthouse, and
when they met by day or by night they were wont to say to
each other, "We would like to see a Yankee army try to lower
that flag." Then he added :
"One morning a special train pulled into St. Joe, five
companies of General Lyon's regular soldiers "detrained," and
forming in column marched to the courthouse. The colonel
in command detailed a lieutenant to go up and take down the
flag and substitute the American flag. It was done, the lieu
tenant returned and took his place. Then, by order, the com
mand saluted the old flag, and taking the Confederate flag
with them, marched back to the train, boarded it and pulled
out of town."
Then he said : "We looked in each other's faces. None
of us felt like going up and taking down that flag, for we had
seen, though on a small scale, the real flag, borne by real sol
diers, under real discipline, and somehow the idea came into
our minds that we were not very much warriors after all, and

252 * AS I REMEMBER THEM.
that there were several lessons which we would have to learn
before we could call ourselves thorough veteran soldiers, irre
pressible and invincible."
Maybe Mark Twain had a little experience like that, but
that is mere speculation. I know nothing about it except that
by his own confession he was once a Confederate soldier.
The first I ever heard of him in Nevada was after the
territory was organized. James Wr. Nye of New York (the
famous Nye) was appointed governor and Orion Clemens, a
brother of Mark Twain, was appointed secretary of the terri
tory. At that time Carson, the capitol, was a young town. The
increase in houses did not keep up with the increase in people.
Most of the houses were of the original California style — rude
boards outside, and the partitions made, not out of studding
and lath and plaster, but of canvas covered with paper, which
houses had the disadvantage of taking all privacy away from
the occupants. It was in one of these houses that Orion Clem
ens was installed on his arrival in Carson. His room was
fitted up with mahogany or black walnut furniture — black wal
nut was the rage in those days — and there one day the occu
pants in the next room heard a man come into the secretary's
office, heard him push a chair to one side, heard something
very much like what is heard when a man puts his feet on
the table, and then they heard a drawling voice say :
"You're playin' Hades out here, Brother Orion, are you
not? Fine furniture, fine office, everything. But they'll drop
on you after a while, Brother Orion. They will find out about
you, about half as much as I know now, and you'd better go
back to your oxen. Oxen are your strong suit, Brother Orion."
With Nye, when he came from New York, came a young
man named Robert Howland. He was one of those "Don't-
care-a-cent" young men, ready for any lark, afraid of nothing
in the world; jolly, cordial, a man for men to like at first
sight and for women to be charmed with. He and Mark
Twain soon contracted a friendship for each other, and when
the news came in from Aurora, one hundred miles south of
Carson, of the great discoveries in that camp, these two young
men formed a partnership and in some way got to Aurora.

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN." 253
There they bought or built a rude cabin and passed the cold
winter therein. Years later Bob used to tell that in that bleak
winter it was the wont of Mark Twain and himself to go out
at night, steal the empty fruit cans, oyster cans, empty cham
pagne bottles and bottles that once held booze, from the rear
of saloons and boarding houses, carry and pile them up in the
rear of their own cabin to give it an opulent look, that passers-
by in the daylight might say, "My, but those fellows must be
flush with money!"
As the Fourth of July grew near, Mark wrote a Fourth of
July oration, signed it "Mark Twain," and sent it to the local
paper, in which it was copied. It began with the words, "I
was sired by the great American Eagle and borne by a conti
nental dam." This struck the fancy of Joseph T. Goodman,
the owner and editor of the Territorial Enterprise in Virginia
City, and he wrote to Mark that if he was not making more
money mining than he would as local reporter on the Enter
prise, he would hold a place for him. A few days later, when
Mr. Goodman was entertaining some friends in the sanctum, a
man walked in, shod in stogy shoes, wearing Kentucky jean
pants, a hickory shirt and a straw hat, all very much travel
worn, and in addition had a roll of ancient blankets on one
shoulder. He shrugged that shoulder, dropped the blankets,
and staring from one man to another, finally drawled out,
"My name is Clemens." That was Mark's introduction to real
journalism in Nevada.
But in a few clays Mark was clothed and in his right
mind — and just here a word about his nom de plume. The
most authentic account that we have of it was Mark's explana
tion that a bright man used to write stories in New Orleans
and sign them "Mark Twain," and when the man died Mark
stole the nom de plume. ) He gave other reasons during his
lifetime. One was that it was to shorten the work of the ter
ritorial legislature of Nevada so that members could refer to
him, not as "that disreputable, lying, characterless, character-
smashing, unscrupulous fiend who reports for the Territorial
Enterprise, but as 'Mark Twain'." Another story was that
he got it from a roustabout on the steamboat, when they were

254 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
near dangerous banks and the lead had to be thrown, and he
would report "Mark one" or "Mark Twain." It is no matter
whether he invented it or stole it, he wronged no one else and
he made the title so famous that thousands know it who do not
know his real name.
That coming to the Enterprise was the making of Mark
Twain. I doubt very much whether he ever would have been
famous at all except for his experience there. He found an
atmosphere different from what he ever dreamed of being in.
The office was filled with bright men, the town was filled with
bright men. There he saw men that had made fortunes quickly,
others who were trying to make fortunes quickly, and he saw
other men who never had fortunes and never expected them.
And he would hear them rail at the millionaires and say that
the fact that they had money was a sure sign of how little
God thought of money, judging by the men he gave it to. R.
M. Daggett was on the Enterprise, and from his example he
learned that when it was necessary to call a man names, there
were no expletives too long or too expressive to be hurled in
rapid succession to emphasize the utter want of character of
the man assailed. Dan De Quille was working with him, too.
He used to write famous stories on almost any subject, and
he knew all about the gift of using adjectives. It was con
tagious in that office. It reached to the composing room.
There were typesetters there who could hurl anathemas at
bad copy which would have frightened a Bengal tiger. The
news editor could damn a mutilated dispatch in twenty-four
languages. There was a compositor named Jim Connely. At that
time the Enterprise was a six-day newspaper. Jim used to
work faithfully through the week, but Saturday night he
would "load up." Sometimes the load would last him over
Sunday, and when he reached the office Monday morning he
was a little trembly. One Monday morning he tried to dis
tribute type for a few minutes, but laid down the stick, saying
that his eyes were bad, wondering if he was going to be blind
before he died, and thought he would go outside and take a
spin around the block and see if he would not feel better. He

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS—'MARK TWAIN." 255
did so. Probably he partook of three or four jolts while going
around the block, for when he came back and picked up his
composing stick, another printer asked him how his eyes were.
He answered, "Fine." The rear windows of the Enterprise
looked over the lower hills and out upon the twenty-six mile
desert beyond. And as Jim said, "Fine!" he pointed out of
a window and said : "Can you see that gray wolf on the
twenty-six mile desert? I see him plain."
That was the character of society that Mark was intro
duced to, and outside there were the brightest lawyers, doc
tors and the shrewdest men of affairs in the world, and Mark
got pointers from them all. If he wrote a good thing they
would praise him and tell him to keep on, that there was some
thing- in him sure. If Homer nodded with him sometimes they
would hold him up to scorn the next day; but he noticed
through all that nothing was too extravagant for them in the
way of description, and nothing too fine.
Mark Twain did not like a joke a bit if he was the vic
tim. The boys of the Enterprise office made him a formal pres
entation of a meerschaum pipe. He was exceedingly pleased,
but when he found next day that he could buy any number of
such pipes at $1.50 each, it filled his soul with a desire to mur
der somebody, and he did not outgrow the feeling for a month.
Wells Fargo's coach was robbed of $25,000 at the Mound
House, half way between Virginia City and Carson. A
week later some of the wild chaps in Virginia City held up
Mark Twain on the divide between Virginia City and Gold
Hill and took his watch and money. He thought it was a
genuine hold-up, and decided to go the next evening to San
Francisco for a brief vacation. As he was sitting in the coach
in front of the International Hotel waiting for the hour of de
parture, the same gang, headed by George Birdsall, approached
the stage and passed him a package done up in paper. He
tore the paper open and saw inside his watch, and realized that
his robbery was all a fake, and with his drawl said :
"It is all right, gentlemen, but you did it a damn sight
too well for amateurs. Never mind this little dab of mine, but

256 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
what did you do with the $25,000 that you took from AVells
Fargo last week?"
He was in San Francisco when that city suffered a severe
shock of earthquake. It happened one Sabbath morning about
ten o'clock and Mark wrote a description of it to the Enter
prise. The files of the Enterprise were burned and the letter,
I believe, is lost to all the world : but some things about it
seemed to me at the time about the j oiliest writing that ever
Mark Twain did. I believe I can recall a few paragraphs of
it from memory almost word for word. He said :
"When that earthquake came on Sunday morning last
there was but one man in San Francisco that showed any pres
ence of mind, and he was over in Oakland. He did just what I
thought of doing, what I would have done had I had any op
portunity — he went down out of his pulpit and embraced a
woman. The newspapers said it was his wife. Maybe it was,
but if it was it was a pity. It would have shown so much
more presence of mind to have embraced some other gentle
man's wife.
"A young man came down from the fifth story of a house
on Stockton street, with no clothing on except a knitted un
dershirt, which came about as near concealing his person as
the tin foil does a champagne bottle. Men shouted to him,
little boys yelled at him, and women besought him to take
their sunbonnets, their aprons, their hoop skirts, anything in
the world and cover himself up and not stand there distracting
people's attention from the earthquake. He looked all around
and then he looked down at himself, and then he went upstairs.
I am told he went up lively.
"Pete Hopkins was shaken off of Telegraph Hill, and on
his way down landed on a three-story brick house (Hopkins
weighed four hundred and thirty pounds), and the papers,
always misrepresenting things, ascribed the destruction of the
house to the earthquake."
And so the letter ran on and on for a column and a half of
the old, long, wide columns of the Enterprise, and every line
was punctuated with fun.
He finally went to Honolulu for a vacation. There he

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN." 257
completed a lecture which he had been preparing, and return
ing to San Francisco, delivered it. A great hit was in the ad
vertising, which announced that the doors would be open at
7:30 o'clock and the trouble would begin at eight. A little
later he joined an excursion party to the Mediterranean and
its shores, from which he wrote the famous "Innocents
Abroad." He took the manuscript to a portly publisher in New
York, and, throwing it down on his desk with his card, said :
"I'd like to get that stuck into antimony." (Types are
made of antimony.) The publisher looked at the manuscript,
then glanced at the card, then looking up to Mark, said :
"AA'ho are your references, Mr. Clemens?"
He replied : "I haven't any in the world. There are only
two men I could app'y to. One is Joe Goodman, the other is
Jerry Driscoll, and they would not count, because they'd lie
for me just as I'd lie for them."
Since then the world has known the history of Mark
Twain. As I said above, it was the making of Mark Twain
to go to work on the Enterprise. It opened a new world to
him. All his life before he had been mostly with ordinary
people, but there he found the majority of people were bright as
dollars, as brave as lions, all alert, all generous, all ready to
give credit where credit was clue and none afraid to criticise
anybody or anything else. And over all was the steadying
influence of Mr. Joseph T. Goodman, the owner and editor of
the paper. I think Mark Twain out of pure gratitude to him
should have left him a part of his fortune. Goodman himself
is as brave a man as ever lived, a thorough journalist, with
magnificent journalistic judgment, and he steadied Mark
through the years and was Mark's particular inspiration. In
deed, the affection of Twain for Goodman all his life was
made clear in his own autobiography.
When he went east and his first book came out and
he was hailed as a genius, he might have gone to the clogs had
he not met the woman who became his wife and who was his
salvation. That changed the whole course of his life, awakened
new hopes, changed all his prospects ; gave him to see how
much there was in a refined life. Then when he made his

258 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
home in Hartford and all his associates were refined and edu
cated people, the change from his former life was an epoch
to him; and still there are some things about him which are a
mystery to those who knew him well. There is no evidence
that in his boyhood he was fond of study or fond of literature ;
he wrote nothing that attracted especial attention until after
he was thirty years of age.
It is not strange that he wrote so many humorous things,
but the style of his writing is a perpetual mystery. Where did
he get that ? His English was always perfect, and it was of a
high class which draws readers to his work every day.
We wish for the sake of his fame that he would oftener
have done what Shakespeare did — all at once break out in a
dozen lines of such majesty and beauty that it thrills people
and always will. However, his fame is secure enough ; his
work was a distinct addition to the literature of the United
States J But could some one have followed him about and taken
clown his remarks every day and compiled them in a book,
it would outsell all his works, for he was funnier every hour in
his conversation than anything he ever wrote.
I met "Josh Billings" as he came west a few clays before
he died. I said : "Of course, Mr. Shaw, you know Mark
Twain?" "Oh, yes," was the reply. "I went to his hotel in New
York last week to see him and was told that he was over in
Jersey lecturing, but would be back about midnight.
"Mark had a parlor and bed-room and out of the parlor
another bed-room opened. They gave me this bed-room. I
retired, leaving the door open. About 2 a. m. Mark came in.
He turned up the gas, came to my bedside and said, 'Hello,
Josh.' I asked him where he had been. 'Over in Jersey
lecturing,' was his answer. I asked him if he had a good time.
"With a look of sorrow, he said : 'Had a devil of a time.
Just before the lecture was to begin, a young man came to me
and asked me to come with him. He led me to where there
was a hole in the drop curtain, and with much emotion said,
'Please look through this. The old gentleman with the white
hair to the left of the center aisle, in an orchestra chair, is my

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN." 259
father.' Then with a gulp he explained that the old gentleman
had been afflicted with a settled melancholy for a long time,
and that if I could say anything to rouse him it would be an
immense favor to the whole family. I said, 'All right.' The
curtain went up and my lecture began. After two or three
minutes I shot a joke at the audience, but meant it for the
old man. It didn't faze him. A little later I tried another
joke at him; it didn't faze him. Still a little later I gathered
myself up and hurled my masterpiece at him. The audience
yelled, but the old man didn't even smile. Then I thought
that I could not devote all my time to him, that something was
due the audience, and so went on and finished my lecture.
"Then the young man came and in a soft voice inquired
if I had succeeded in arousing the interest of the father.
" 'Not a blamed bit,' I replied. 'Fie sat there as though
he did not hear a word.'
" 'I guess he didn't,' said the Reuben. 'A powder mill
explosion twenty years ago smashed the drums in his ears
and since then he has been as deaf as a post.' Here Mark
added, 'And I had no weapons'."
When the Lusilania first came to New York, he was in
vited aboard the great ship arid shown around. When the
inspection was over, he casually remarked that he would tell
Noah about 'that ship.
I hope he has found Noah now, and all the rest of the "old
boys" that have gone over on the other side ; and if he has, I
predict that whether it is up above or down below, a ripple of
laughter will follow his footsteps in either place through all
eternity.

JUDGE R. S. MESICK.
THREE SCORE years ago a man who possessed $200,000
was considered very rich. When the Comstock was
discovered and it seemed to be pitching to the west, the
hillside below the great lode to the east was covered with loca
tions wherever there were croppings of ore. AVhen suddenly
at a depth of about two hundred feet the Comstock was found
broken off, and with a little sinking, and drifting to the east
found again, pitching to the east, then the question at once
arose as to the titles on the surface hillside.
The claim of those on the lode was that with their location
they had a right to trace the vein wherever it pitched, west or
east. Then there were such pitched legal contests created as
had never been known. The fees paid to attorneys were such
as had never been paid before, and that naturally drew to the
Comstock an array of attorneys more able than had ever been
gathered together.
Perhaps General Charles S. Williams was the Nestor of
them all. He had been a great lawyer and attorney general in
New York. But around him was an assemblage of attorneys,
all of whom were great. AA^e may name such men as C. J.
Hillier, Thomas AA'illiams, Moses Kirkpatrick, AArm. M. Stew
art, Judge Josejah Baldwin, who had made a great reputation
in Alabama before he went to California; his son, Judge
"Sandy" Baldwin, C. E. DeLong, Horace Smith, Jonas Seeley,
Sunderland, Crittenden, Mitchel, Aldrich, Hundley, Judge Cy
AA'allace, John B. Felton and a score more.
But the first obstacle was the courts. The United States
courts were made up as a rule of broken-down politicians, sent
west to pay political debts or to get rid of their importunities.
They were in a strange field; questions that had never been
submitted to courts before were before them. In a legal way,
as a rule, they were utterly incompetent, and a great many of
them were corrupt. The brightest one of them all in a little
while got to selling his opinions; and worse still, a little later

JUDGE R. S. MESICK. 261
he got to selling out to both sides, which was a sure sign, under
the ruling of Zinc Barnes, that he must be a little crooked, be
cause Zinc's definition of an honest man was "a son-of-a-gun
who would stay bought."
The suits were multiplied, the courts were far behind,
and it was a pitiable spectacle to see those great attorneys try
ing to get a little information through the brains of those in
competent judges. The situation was one of the impelling
causes that led to making Nevada a state before it had either
a population or developed wealth to entitle it to statehood.
But the state was admitted, and R. S. Mesick stooped down
to accept a district judgeship that he might help clear the cal
endars and get the court running on a legitimate basis.
Just as Judge Mesick had finished his regular course in
Yale and afterwards at the law department of Yale he joined
the Argonauts who went to California. He located in Marys
ville. In those days Marysville had a wonderful bar. Judge
Stephen J. Field, who afterwards sat more than thirty-three
years as justice of the Supreme Court of the United States,
was practicing law there. There were many other great law
yers. Mesick's legal abilities were acknowledged at once, but
in those days he was a little shy, clue perhaps to a lingering
provincialism which made him rather think that with his ac
complishments and his training he had a certain dignity to
maintain. In those days he was as good a lawyer as Judge Field
and practiced law in Marysville until the Comstock was dis
covered. AVhen he went upon the bench in Virginia City he was
surrounded by more temptations than ever a judge was before ;
but he so bore himself in that office that when his short term
was out, he had the full respect of all the bar and of all the
people. Beyond that it was plain to the bar and to the people
that he was about the greatest man that ever gave the best years
of his life to the golden coast. He was not only as great a
lawyer as Field, but he possessed elements of statesmanship
which were denied Justice Field.
In Nevada his exclusiveness wore away. Some people

262 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
had called that exclusiveness pride, but really it was but a dig
nity which he held to be due his profession, mixed with a little
natural shyness, and while he mellowed down, he maintained
that dignity to the very end. Through his friction against men
on the Comstock, he took on the wisdom to note that all around
him in every walk of life, were intellectual giants ; that in the
original elements into which society was there resolved, the
brightest brain could only aspire to be an equal and not a su
perior. And he was surrounded by brains, some of which were
cleavers and battle axes, some Damascus blades, and in the
wielding of those weapons they were all trained until they had
become real gladiators. There were trials in which a spec
tator saw only flashings of great lights ; there were argu
ments which Burke would have listened to enchanted ; there
were bursts of legal eloquence which would have charmed Clav
or Prentiss. It was an arena where giants contested.
In that arena, whether on the bench or at the bar, Judge
Mesick was a captain. No subtlety could jostle him into mak
ing a weak ruling; no artifice could prepare an argument that
he could not seize and puncture if within it there was one
weak point or false principle embodied.
But it was not only as a lawyer and jurist that he was
great. Had he remained in the east and married some woman
great enough and true enough to have held up his strong arms,
there could not have been a place so high that he might not
have justly aspired to attain it. He would have been rated
the peer of the very highest ; as scholar, lawyer, judge, orator,
statesman. But the customs of the coast had their influence upon him.
He was not free from some human weaknesses. Moreover,
down deep he was one of the most lovable and genial of men.
Despite his reserve he would, could he have had his way, "have
lived by the road," where he would have met his fellow-men,
met them with their virtues and faults and affiliated with them
all. He was altogether a manly man, even when he gave way
to his weaknesses. The divinity within him shone out always,
the same under the light of a tallow clip as under an electric

JUDGE R. S. MESICK. 263
chandelier. He had courage that never failed him, he had in
tegrity and self-respect and respect for his profession that
nothing could turn aside.
A very rich man, on one occasion stated to him the points
of a case and asked him if he could win it in court. His answer
was: "I might, but I will not try."
"Why not?" asked the man. "You are not very rich and
there are thousands of dollars in this for you if you will under
take it."
"But I will not," said Mesick.
"And why not ?' asked the would-be client.
"Because it is a dishonest proposition; because you are
hoping through the power of your money to perpetrate a great
wrong, to accomplish which you would have to prostitute the
profession of the law and disgrace the court. I will not be a
party to it."
Then the man flared up and intimated that there was a
great difference between his own friendship or enmity. To this
Mesick merely pointed to the door and said :
"Get out, and do not stand on the order of your going, but
go at once !"
Half an hour later he looked up from his desk and said to
his clerk: "I am mad through and through at myself."
"What for?" asked the clerk.
And he replied : "That I did not kick that scoundrel out
of this office and all of the way down the street."
He lived sixteen years in Virginia City, then removed to
San Francisco, where he died in 1897 or '98. He died worth
only a few thousand dollars, though in a single case — the Fair
divorce case — he received a fee of $200,000.
The grievous thing is that such a man was never known
outside the few who were close to him, when, had he had a little
different nature, had he had more desire for selfish glory, he
might have stood with the very highest. Never on this coast,
never anywhere, was there a more clear-cut mind, a more ac
complished man in books and in his profession. While he min-

264 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
gled with his fellow-men on terms of equality, he at the same
time moved in a sphere of his own. He was a glorified scholar
until the last. AA'hen the world got to be a burden to him, he
could go to his library and commune with all of the great souls
that had preceded him in this world, only when he read the
great thoughts, they always haunted him ; a thought of his own
was that what he read was not new, that such thoughts had
been his familiars all his life.
He should have gone to the senate from Nevada ; he
should have gone with Senator Stewart. That body would
have recognized in a moment that a master had come, and the
brightest of them would have fought shy of an encounter
with him.
He was surrounded by great souls, but his surroundings
were never what they should have been. He never could
have found any array of intellects that he would not have stood
a peer among; he never could have found a class of men that
could have been his schoolmasters. His brain was acute; it
either held all the knowledge in the world, or an open door to
all the knowledge in the world ; and if his thoughts had been
directed away from the fierce encounters which were met on the
Comstock and led up into the heights of literature or of states
manship, he would have been at home.
He died of bronchitis, and shortly before his death, when
a friend bending over him sympathized with his great suffer
ings, and after the medical men around him had tried every
way to soothe his pain, his friend spoke to him of his ap
proaching death. And he answered, with a faint smile on
his lips :
"Death will be a cure for the sufferings I am bearing
now." AA'e hope that rest has come to him and that in the sphere
where his soul has found an abiding place, there will be con
genial spirits enough of the very highest, to take away from
him all regret that he was called so soon from the earth.

GENERAL P. E. CONNOR.
GENERAL PATRICK EDWARD CONNOR was a
very splendid soldier. He fought through three wars.
Every moment of fifty years he held his life, fortune
and sacred honor subject to his country's call. Flis best ser
vices were perhaps in Utah.
It is said that the society which has the building of a
monument to him in charge, is at work. Everyone in Utah
should invest at least one dollar in the monument. Some men
fight when they have to ; some men fight when a fight comes
to them ; now and then a man goes out after a fight. General
Connor was one of the latter class.
He was born near the lakes of Killarney in Kerry county,
a spot which has some reputation in the world ; and one of the
things that it is renowned for is that there is not a living thing
in that county — man, woman, horse, dog, chicken — anything,
that won't fight.
He was born there March 17, 1820, on St. Patrick's day,
and when but a child he was brought by his parents to New
York City.
When nineteen vears of age, in 1839, the Florida war was
in progress. AA'e suspect that at that time he had no fixed
idea of just where Florida was, but he heard there was a fight
there and volunteered.
He served in the army five years, to November, 1844.
Early in 1846 he moved to Texas and when the same year the
Mexican war broke out, he joined a regiment of Texas vol
unteers, of which Albert Sidney Johnston was colonel. He
was the second volunteer officer mustered into service in that
regiment, and he entered as a captain.
He was in the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma,
and was one of the immortal 4500 men who confronted Santa
Ana's army of 22,000 men on that day of days at Buena Vista.
He fought all day, although he was the first officer
wounded in the battle. But that night he had lost so much
18

266 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
blood that two of his comrades had to lie close to him on either
side through the night to keep him from dying from cold and
exhaustion. For his work on that day he was given a captain's full
pension. Shortly after the war closed, he passed through Mexico
and reached California on January 22, 1850. A little after his
reaching there, great excitement was raised over gold discov
eries on Trinity River. At that time it was believed that Trin
ity River flowed into the Pacific, and acting on that belief,
Connor with some naval officers and sailors went up the coast
to find the mouth of Trinity River. Seeing a boat, they tried
to reach it. Some were drowned in the breakers, the rest
reached the boat that they had seen in the offing, and found it
to be the Farragut. They learned from those on board that
Trinity River did not empty into the sea.
In the next spring Captain Connor tried again to reach
the same stream. He reached Humboldt Bay, cut a trail
through the Redwoods and took his party at last to the banks
of the Trinity River. With a small boat he learned the currents
and eddies and shoals of Humboldt Bay, and for awhile served
as a pilot. In 1854 Captain Connor was married to Johanna Connor,
then a resident of Redwood City, but who was a native of the
same county the Captain was born in.
In October of that year, he was appointed postmaster
of Stockton, California. He was serving at the same time as
adjutant of the Second brigade and Captain of the Stockton
Blues. He lived a very rugged life in Stockton. That was a
center of some very determined Southern men. Judge Terry's
home was there, and there were a great many others ; and as the
war drew near, the feeling ran, very high, and Captain Connor
was a mark of especial detestation by some of those men. His
life was a hundred times threatened and he walked those streets
day and night for two or three years when he was not certain
that he would live a minute. But he was always resolute for
the government and the Union and courted rather than avoided

GENERAL P E. CONNOR. 267
danger. He established and owned the Stockton waterworks
and was drawing from that $8,000 a year and had a contract
for building the foundation of the state capitol at Sacramento.
He was released from that, however, by the legislature of
1861-2, being ordered to report with his command.
When the Civil war broke out he tendered his services at
once to the governor of California, who appoined him colonel
of the Third California infantry. His command was stationed
at Benicia barracks, California, during the winter of '61 and
'62, pending a transfer to Utah, where the command was
ordered, to the great disappointment of the volunteers, who
expected to be sent south.
In May, 1862, Colonel Connor and his regiment, embrac
ing 850 men, consisting of the Second California infantry and
four companies of the Second California cavalry, started on
foot for Utah.
He issued a bulletin to his soldiers when the march began,
full of patriotic fervor and in splendid form.
They marched over the Sierras, then on through Nevada
to a camping place in Ruby valley. Here the men became very
restless — they wanted to go south. They offered all the money
they had, some agreed to forfeit all their pay if they could be
permitted to go south, and Colonel Connor sent a petition to
General Halleck, secretary of war, begging- to be permitted to
go and offering to pay their own passage from San Francisco
to Panama. But they were ordered to continue on to Utah,
and on the 24th of October, 1862, they marched through Salt
Lake City, stopping while the band played in front of the house
of the governor, and then marched on to the spot which is now
the site of Fort Douglas.
They were threatened with destruction before they
reached Salt Lake, but it made no difference. The threats
came from no authentic sources and they continued their
march. In February, 1863, the Indians being very troublesome in
the Bear River country, General Connor took the main portion
of his command and marched up there. The weather was
fearfully cold, dropping to ten degrees before they had been

268 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
out a day. The command consisted of company K, Third
infantry, California volunteers, Captain Hoyt, two howitzers,
under command of Lieutenant Huntington ; twelve men of the
Second California cavalry, with a train of fifteen wagons, con
taining twelve days' supplies to proceed on the 22nd of Jan
uary; and the colonel himself followed with detachments of
companies A, H, K and M, Second California cavalry; Sur
geon Reed, Third California Volunteers ; Captain McLean,
and Price, and Lieutenants Chase, Clark, Quinn and Conrad,
Second California cavalry. Major Gallagher, Third California
infantry, and Captain Berry, Second California cavalry, went
as volunteer aides, leaving Colonel George S. Evans in com
mand at Camp Douglas.
They found the Indians in a very strong position, and
after a fierce engagement of twenty minutes, finding it was
impossible to dislodge them without great loss of life, Major
AfcGary, with twenty men, was ordered to turn their left flank,
which was in the ravine where it entered the mountain. Shortly
afterwards Captain Hoyt reached the Bear river ford, three-
quarters of a mile distant, but found it impossible to cross the
men on foot. A detachment of cavalry was ordered to cross,
and a little later Major McGary's flanking party turned the
enemy's flank.
Up to that time the Indians were under cover and had
much the advantage of the fighting, and did fight with the
ferocity of tigers. But the flanking party was ordered to ad
vance down the ravine on either side, which caused the Indians
to give way.
The fight commenced at 6 in the morning, and continued
until 10. At the commencement of the battle the hands of
some of the men were so benumbed with cold that it was with
difficulty they could load their pieces. They suffered terribly
during the march, and not less than seventy-five of the men
had their feet frozen, some of them being crippled for life. The
colonel bestowed particular praise upon Major McGary, Major
Gallagher and Surgeon Reed, and indeed he had only good
words for his whole command. Eighteen of his soldiers were
killed, forty-five were wounded, and seventy-six confined to the

GENERAL P. E. CONNOR. 269
hospitals from being frozen, making the casualties one hundred
and forty-three. It made peace with the northern Indians which was
never after broken.
Later in the war, when the colonel was promoted to gen
eral because of his services, he was offered a high place in the
army, but he preferred with the close of the war to give up his
army life to devote himself to mining. He mined in Utah and
Nevada, and he continued his work up to within a few weeks
of his death.
He gave a detail of soldiers leave of absence to go pros
pecting, and they found the mines in Bingham.
He died in Salt Lake City, and was given a splendid mil
itary funeral, with Colonel Rose in command.
He earned the name of being about the best Indian fighter
in the army. He was a fine soldier, but his patriotism was
superior to all his other traits. He was one of those men who
held his life at the service of his country every moment from
the time he enlisted in the Florida war until he laid clown his
life in this city. He did a splendid work in Utah. He was
not very successful in business here, because his whole soul
was that of a soldier.
Born in a foreign land, not much accomplished in the
schools, coming to this country a poor emigrant, at the first
call he offered his life, and that offer remained open until he
died. From an obscure foreign-born boy, by his own merits he
rose until the stars of a major-general glittered on his shoul
ders. He was a gifted soldier. His courage was immeasurable.
His love for his adopted country was a grand passion. He
did the work appointed for him to do perfectly, and he sank
to rest with "all his country's honors blest."

MARCUS DALY.
MARCUS DALY graduated from the Comstock, took a
post graduate course in Utah, then went to Butte,
Montana, to win his degrees. And he won them all.
I do not know his career before he reached the Comstock, but
it was there that he first comprehended what a great mine was
and what great mining was. He took it in fully, by actual prac
tice mastered every detail, and I suspect it was in the depths,
down among the gnomes, that an unspoken determination
came to him to rival the best that had been accomplished
there, if he could but find a field big enough to expand in.
He removed to Utah and did some fine mining in differ
ent parts of the state, and it was there he made the greatest
strike of his life — he found and won the wife that was his
life and light even until his final call.
I think he contenrplated securing the Ontario for a while.
Had he, doubtless he would have been the inspiration and
financially the king of Parley's Park, but the Ophir and Gould
and Curry and Gold Hill croppings were in his thoughts,
and he reasoned that a big mine must have a great outcrop, so
he advised Craig Chambers to look after the Ontario while
he went for the Walker Brothers to Butte to open the Alice
Mine. There he grasped the outlines of the Anaconda mine and
watched all that was done toward exploring it until his im
pressions of it deepened into conviction and then he obtained
an option upon it.
He knew George Hearst and through him Haggin and
Tevis of San Francisco. He went to them and laid his plans
before them, gave them frankly his belief that the mine would
prove, when fully developed, a wonder of the world, but ex
plained that it was a long distance from cheap and rapid trans
portation and that to buy it, develop it into working form
would require a good deal of money, a vast amount of money,
a mint of money, giving increased emphasis to each statement.

MARCUS DALY. 271
Old man Haggin, next to William Sharon, the shrewd
est and gamest and boldest of all the then rich men on the
coast, was impressed with the description of the property, but
more impressed with the frankness and dash of Mr. Daly, and
told him that the money he needed for a starter was ready for
him, and when that was gone to draw for more and to keep
drawing. Then the little chief returned to Butte and began his real
work. I saw him there in 1881 and he said to me that the world
did not know it, but it would after a while learn that he had
the biggest mine ever found. He worked on its development
for two years, expending vast sums of money, and then wrote
to Haggin and Tevis that he needed further funds, but
that he would not draw for another dollar until one or both
came to Butte and saw what he had done with the money he
had drawn, and what use he had for more.
Mr. Haggin went to Butte and spent several days in exam
ining the mine and the contemplated reduction works, and
then said :
"Daly, you make me a vast amount of trouble. I am get
ting old, but you drag me up here, race me through your mine
workings for days and give me your ideas of what yet remains
to be done, and the whole business was unnecessary.
"The property is bigger than you led me to believe, which
I suspected was the truth before I left home ; you have shown
me where all the money has gone which I was confident I
should find; indeed I cannot see how you could do the work
with so little money, and you tell me what is needed, which is
clear enough, but I am no better satisfied than I was before I
left home, and so all this work of mine has been useless. Here
after please keep in mind what I told you when we first began
this enterprise: when you need money draw, and keep draw
ing." So the work went on and began to pay. Then there came
a crisis. Copper began to fall in price and the percentage of
copper in the rock began to decrease at the same time, until
the margin of profit left after deducting expenses became most

272 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
dangerously small. Moreover, the deeper explorations in the
mine made clear that low-grade copper was thenceforth to be
the rule. Something had to be done. Fortunately the ore
bodies increased in magnitude. That gave Mr. Daly an idea.
He said to a friend who was an old gold quartz miner : "If a
five-stamp mill is running on five dollar rock, how much does
it make a day?"
The friend replied: "A five stamp mill ought to crush
from twelve and a half to fifteen tons of ore daily. If the rock
is favorable, it will crush fifteen tons. To mine and mill it
generally costs from $2.00 to $2.25 per ton. If 90 per cent is
saved that leaves about $2.25 to $2.50 per ton profit, or on
fifteen tons $34 or $35 per day; but everything has to be favor
able to produce that result."
"Then if the ore becomes rebellious, or a heavy volume of
water is encountered, or the machinery is faulty, there is not
much left, is there?" asked Marcus.
The friend replied : "Not much ; and often the most care
ful management cannot keep even."
"I thought so," said Marcus, "but if the mine is big
enough to produce 1,000 tons per day, how then?"
"AA'hy, at least $1.50 profit per ton should be saved, which,
you see, in a year of 300 working days, would mean nearly
half a million," said the friend.
"I thought so," said Marcus.
That night he called in his mechanical engineers, and
laying before them the outlines of certain machinery which he
wanted for the mine and for the reduction works, asked them
to bring him the estimate of what it would all cost as soon as
possible. Then he said to Otto Stalmann, who was with him: "I
want you to give me an estimate of what your expenses would
be to go to Europe, visit all the copper reduction and refining
plants there, which I take it will require a year's time, and see
if you can find something through which we can work this ore
cheaper and save a little larger percentage of copper."
The next day Mr. Stalmann reported that he could not
make the trip with less than $2,000 or $2,250.

MARCUS DALY. 273
In his impetuous way Mr. Daly swung around to his desk,
filled out a check for $10,000, and handing it to Stalmann,
said: "If you go to Europe for the Anaconda company, keep
in mind that you are to go as a gentleman. AVhen that money
begins to run low, draw for more."
The change of front in the working of the mine and at the
reduction works, Marcus kept from his partners in San Fran
cisco, bearing all the expense himself until he made a success.
"I did not know but it might fail," he said.
There have been some marvelous triumphs in copper min
ing and in the reduction of copper ores since, but it must not be
forgotten that Marcus Daly was the Columbus who found the
first islands of the new copper world.
AA'hen he had achieved that great success and had become
a copper king, his nature changed a little. He seemed to be less
patient under opposition and more arrogant in manner, espe
cially to those he was not fond of, though he was as generous
as ever ; as thoughtful for others as ever, but he began to be
active in politics and impatient at opposition. Then he looked
around to gratify a longing that he had all his life been hug
ging to his soul. He wanted the finest farm in the world and
wanted to own the finest blood horses. He found the farm in
Bitter Root valley and bought it. It contained more than
20,000 acres. AVhat he paid for it I do not know, but he must
have expended from $2,000,000 to $3,000,000 in stocking it
and making it perfect. In the meantime, if any blooded horse
performed a great feat, Marcus purchased him if the horse
could be bought. He sent an agent to Hungary to purchase
the great English blood-horse Ormonde, that had been pur
chased and taken to Hungary.
The agent bid for the horse as long as he dared, but a
South American finally bid him in at $140,000, if we remember
correctly, and the animal was sent to Rio.
The agent returned and reported to Mr. Daly, saying: "I
bid as long as I dared to, as long as I thought you would ap
prove of my bidding."
"But you permitted a greaser to outbid you and take the

274 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
horse to South America after I had told you to buy him. That
is not the way a faithful agent obeys instructions," said Daly,
and turned away in disgust.
The last time I saw Marcus he told me that just then his
ambition was to have a Montana horse win the English derby.
Many people thought he paid most extravagant prices for
some of his horses, but when, after his death, his stable was
sold, the animals brought as much as he had paid for them.
His clear judgment never failed him. Most of the horses
are gone, but the farm remains, and a Montana man will tell
you it is the finest farm in all the world.
For many years he took an active part in advertising
Montana ; his only trouble being that he would bear no oppo
sition, and when fiercely opposed, his motto seemed to be "Mil
lions to carry my point, but not a cent for graft."
He made scores of friends rich, and rejoiced as much in
their prosperity as in his own. In many ways, he was a most
extraordinary man. A great strike was once threatened among
his host of employees. To a committee that called upon him
he frankly stated that. he could not accede to their demands;
that it would be unjust to his company. To this the chairman
replied that in that case the men would strike. "Very well,"
was Mr. Daly's answer, "that is your privilege in this free
country, but remember that if you do, it will not be long until
there will be much suffering among your men who have saved
no money. When that time arrives, don't hesitate about calling
on me. I will see that none of your wives or children suffer
until the men can get work again. I have been a working man
all my life and know how hard their lot is sometimes. I can
not grant your demands ; because it would be an injustice to my
company, to the men who have invested millions of dollars here,
and besides I am boss here and do not propose to divide my
duties with you, but personally I will do all I can for those de
pendent upon your work."
When this was reported to the union it was decided that
it would be bad business to strike on a man like Marcus Daly.
He sold the mines and reduction works at last and meant

MARCUS DALY. 275
thereafter to live easy, but in the work he had carried on so
long his vitality had been well nigh exhausted.
He had been a most material factor in the transformation
of Montana. Fie had not been much disciplined in his youth,
and he fretted at any opposition ; then, too, between his mighty
success and the insidious disease that was even then creeping
upon him, he became impatient and sometimes arrogant ; gen
erous to a fault himself, anything like ingratitude awakened
in him a fierce. desire for vengeance, and he did some things
which hurt Montana, but they weighed as nothing compared
with the good he had done the state; the unheralded and un
measured help he had been to scores and hundreds of his fellow
men. He carried on a tremendous work there for years, out of
a multitude of difficulties he finally wrought a magnificent
success, but in the work he forfeited every chance to enjoy a
peaceful old age, for he died just when he should have been in
his prime. His death caused profound sorrow all over Montana; to
this day there are hundreds of men who will tell, as the tears
run down their faces, that there never was but one Marcus
Daly; so great was he, so clean his life, so warm was his heart;
so high his soul.
When Montana builds her hall of fame, in a sculptured
niche where sunbeams will play upon it all the day long and
weave golden halos around his brow, will be the statue of
Marcus Daly.

JOHN ATCHISON.
THE chief fault with John Atchison was that he had too
much courage and energy. These traits are seldom
charged against a man as faults, but in the case of John
Atchison they were ; for his daring and his faith in himself
that he could by his native force drive anything through to
success, caused him to make many failures. They swayed his
judgment and often caused him to attempt the impossible.
In 1849 he loaded his household goods and gods on a
wagon, somewhere in Illinois, if I remember correctly, and
with oxen for a propelling power, started across the plains.
Several other families fitted out the same way were in the com
pany. They drove through to Salt Lake valley, and stopped
for several weeks to rest their livestock, and, so far as possi
ble, to exchange poor cattle for fresh ones.
Then they started west again, taking the northern route,
and struck the Sierras in the vicinity of Honey Lake. It was
then November and every dictate of prudence would have
counseled them to camp there for the winter.
But when told that it was but a little more than one hun
dred miles to the Sacramento valley, and as no winter snows
had fallen, Atchison, who was the master spirit of the party,
determined to push through.
A man who had been stationed there to meet and direct
emigrants advised them to take the Lassen Pass, since called
the Fremont Pass, and they started. When over the summit
and really not more than twenty miles from where storms
change from snow to rain, they encountered a real Sierra snow
storm. The snow fell five feet in a night and the temperature
fell to zero.
Nearly all the cattle perished that night. There was noth
ing in their stomachs. When they could not longer stand they
sank into the snow and the cold brought them speedy deaths.
Mrs. Atchison saved her cow by taking her into a corner of her
own tent.

JOHN ATCHISON. 277
There were women in every wagon and a good many
children in the company. The memory of that night was a
horror to them all the rest of their clays.
When the morning dawned they threw away everything
they had except what of clothing they could wear and such
food as they could carry and pack on the few cattle left, and
started on foot for the west. Fortunately the mountains on
that side were precipitous and with every mile traveled they
descended two or three hundred feet in altitude, and before
night they had passed through the snow belt. Had they "tried
the pass" one day sooner they would have escaped the snow ;
had they delayed one day longer the chances would have been
a hundred to one that the snow would have been their final
winding sheet.
Arrived at the Sacramento River, they could travel no
further, yet it was imperative that they should move on.
Packed on one of the oxen was a bale of small rop>e and
some axes, augurs and other carpenter's tools. Under Atchi
son's direction the men felled some small trees on the river
bank, cut and trimmed them, hewed off the rounded sides, put
them together, lashed them with this coil of rope and pegged
them with slats. They caulked them with rags of their cloth
ing and pitch from the trees and on this frail scow loaded
the women and children, and "cast off." Frail as it was, it
floated the company clown to where they got help.
I have stated the above to give an idea of the invincible
soul of John Atchison.
He lived nearly thirty years after that, but there was
never a new mining camp found that he did not go with the
first crowd to it; never an enterprise suggested that seemed
too hazardous for him ; never a chance proposed that he would
not take. He followed the trail in the early fifties to Garden Valley
below Camptonville, located the valley, built a house there ; and
that was his home, while he followed placer mining for several
years. He went with almost the first company to the Comstock ;
"made a stake" there, and then explored Nevada, Idaho, and

278 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Utah, locating or bonding and selling mines until seized with
an illness brought on by exposure, he died in Salt Lake City
in the late seventies.
It may be said that he never rested from the time he helped
construct that unique raft on the bank of the Sacramento river
until he died. His name was a household word over all north
ern California, and everywhere he was held as a man at once
indomitable and irrepressible.
When appealed to for advice on matters in which he had
no personal interest, his mind was always strong and clear, and
the counsel he gave was always shrewd and wise.
But when intent upon some scheme of his own, he often
failed in judgment; that is, he permitted his sanguine belief in
himself to override it.
Had he been born a thousand miles further west, he prob
ably would have been a trapper and hunter ; had he been born
a thousand miles further east, he might have been one of those
mighty men of affairs — a Vanderbilt or a Tom Scott, for he
had the ability and his resourcefulness was inexhaustible.
•He was one of that class of men that no matter what his
surroundings may be, he always gravitates to the top and is
hailed as a leader.
He might have been a John the Baptist except that he
never would have acknowledged that a greater than he was
coming behind.
He was most sincere, and his highest dream was to make
an independence for those he loved.
The trouble was that he was not only ready to attempt
anything that looked good to him, but he would pledge all he
had that it would make good. And all the time he was carry
ing a host of decrepit friends and relatives.
Thus he wore himself out and died before his time, with
out achieving anything that will last in the memories of men,
when in truth thousands of men with not half his equipment,
not half his courage, and not a tithe of his energy, have gone
into the records as great men.
On his monument should be embossed : "He died of too
much energy and courage."

JUDGE J. B. ROSEBOROUGH.
IT IS with a solemn joy that I recall Judge Roseborough,
his stately bearing, without the slightest pride, but with
a self-respect so austere and yet so gentle that all men
understood by a glance that he was trained in a school where
only gentlemen were admitted, and where no gentleman could
lower himself to ever do an unworthy act or submit to an un
worthy imputation.
He was southern born, in South Carolina, I think, but he
was an Argonaut in California. He did not reach there until
he was a finished scholar, and thorough lawyer.
No one suspected the compass of his learning who was
not close to him. It ranged over every field. Not a smattering
of knowledge in a hundred directions, but a profound scholar
and careful student to the end of his life.
He was a walking encyclopedia of his own country in
every way. All the stately figures in the political history of the
country, or in the literature of the country were familiar to him,
not only their acts and their triumphs, but their characters as
men; every question of importance that has agitated the coun
try he could tersly state both sides of; all the different forms
of government that the nations have tried, he could explain,
all the classics were at his call when he wanted a simile or an
illustration ; his word pictures of men, either as finished as the
old masters or as cartoons, were delicious to listen to ; he was
equally as thorough in the sciences, from the stars above to
the chemistry of earth and air — every thought was an illumina
tion. The old story of the man in London who took refuge
under a bridge for half an hour in a great storm and engaged
in conversation with a stranger and who went away declaring
that the man he had met had told him- everything in the world,
might have applied to Judge Roseborough as well as to Ed
mund Burke.
No man ever took a morning walk with Judge Rose
borough who did not come back the wiser. Everything- inter-

280 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ested him ; he made everything interesting. To some boys who
were preparing to climb a certain tree, he said : "Why are you
going to climb that tree?"
One of the boys replied : "For birds'-nests."
Then the judge stopped and said : "You will find no nests
in that tree. Look at the branches and the leaves! Do you
not see that they all grow straight up ; that none of them droop ;
hence they cannot shed water when it rains.
"The birds know that, know that were they to build nests
in the branches, they would be flooded out with the first rain
and perhaps their babies would be drowned; hence they never
build nests in a tree the foliage of which furnishes no protec
tion for their houses."
He was greatly interested in small boys, and would often
stop them and ask them to show him the contents of their
pockets, and was always ready to wager that if the boy was
able to buy a knife he would have a knife, and would never
fail to have a stick and a string, because a boy could mend
almost any toy with a knife, a stick and a string.
He said to a friend one day : "Why can I not raise alfalfa
in Texas?" The friend asked him what his sub-soil was. He
answered, "Clay." "And how deep beneath the surface does
it lie?" the friend asked. "About two feet," said the judge. "I
suppose," said the friend, "the winter rains sink to the clay,
can get no farther, and the sour stagnant water poisons the
roots of the alfalfa."
The judge was still for a moment and then said: "Don't
tell anyone that I asked that fool question, for I knew better
had I stopped to reason for a moment. Of course, that is the
reason. Alfalfa is two-thirds water; where it has a chance it
will go clown twenty feet on a still hunt for water, but wants
pure water, and when stopped on its downward way and
choked by stagnant water, of course it is killed."
He was a district judge in California for a good while.
Late in the fifties he settled in Siskiyou county with his
brother, who was likewise a lawyer.
Then the people elected his brother judge, and the old
judge began to settle his business prior to moving away.

JUDGE J. B. ROSEBOROUGH. 281
A friend hearing of it went to him and asked him why he
was going to give up his splendid business and seek a new field.
His answer was : "After a few weeks my brother will be pre
siding judge of this district. Naturally, if here I would have
to try cases before him. Fie might sometime decide a case in
my favor : then some one might say I won the case because my
brother happened to be the judge. Then I should have to kill
the dirty clog, and it is not worth the trouble." But he deplored
the necessity which made it incumbent upon him to remove
from old Siskiyou.
There were old Shasta and the sister peaks; the roar of
the great ocean was but a little way west, and his soul was in
perfect accord with every majestic display of nature.
When a great electric storm was raging, his way was to
go out into the storm and exultantly salute every lightning
flash and every thunder peal.
He removed first to Idaho and a little later with Colonel
Merritt for a partner, settled in Salt Lake City, opened a law
office and practiced his profession with great honor for a quar
ter of a century. He was intensely southern and justified every
effort that the south made to establish an independent govern
ment ; his thought being that if the cause was a righteous one
in 1776, it was quite as much so in 1861.
But he had a profound reverence for law, and the rule that
prevailed in Utah up to the issuing by President AAroodruff of
the Manifesto, kept his hot pulses throbbing with fever speed
all the time.
Still, to the rank and file of the people of the Church of
Latter-day Saints his heart went out in profound sympathy.
AVhen Colonel Merritt became judge, Judge Roseborough
did what he had done in Siskiyou. He prepared to move. He
found a great tract of fine land down near Aransas Pass, Texas,
and joined by Judge Harkness and the late John Q. Packard
of Salt Lake City, they purchased it and stocked it.
It was a cape that jutted far out into the Gulf, so that a
short fence at the upper end made of it, for stock-raising pur
poses, an island.
He removed there and remained several years, finally
19

282 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
selling out and realizing a large fortune for all the investors.
While he was there a gentleman of Salt Lake City visited
Texas and reported that the Texans held the judge as a mod
ern Socrates. He said also that a Texan, getting lost one night,
rode until 4 a. m., when, seeing a light he went to the house
and found it was Judge Roseborough's. The light was in the
judge's library.
He knocked at the door, and being answered by a "Come
in," entered to find the judge by his table with Dante's Inferno
in his hand. He had been all night absorbed in reading, never
realizing that bedtime had passed hours before.
The last I heard of him he had gone back to South Caro
lina. He must, a good while ago, have passed on.
If he has, South Carolina has not one nobler grave than
his ; so splendid was he in character and mind, so sensitive was
he of his honor ; so just was he as a man and citizen ; so high
were all his ideals ; so lofty was his integrity ; so brave and true
of soul was he.
Not many men in Utah understood or appreciated him. A
state filled with such men would seem to every visitor what the
Roman senate seemed to the visiting Greek — "an assemblage
of kings." He was a great lawyer and jurist, he was a schoolmaster
to all men who were fortunate enough to get into the inner
circle of his confidence and friendship and while he was a resi
dent of Salt Lake, the average man of Utah no more realized
what he was than did the man we read of realize who his
guests were when he, unawares, entertained angels.

JOHN PERCIVAL JONES.
BORN in England or Wales, brought to the United States
when five years of age, or, as he in jest was wont to
say : "Not liking the customs of the old country, I left
AA'ales at five years of age for the United States, and brought
my whole family with me."
He passed fifteen years in and about Cleveland, Ohio, at
tending the schools there ; then at twenty turned his face west
ward, graduated among the California mountains, and took
his post-graduate course on the Comstock.
AVho can give to those who never met him an idea of
John P. Jones?
He was perhaps five feet nine and a half inches in height,
massive, weighing say one hundred and eighty pounds, ruddy
complexion, with dark gray or black eyes, a face at once strik
ing, joyous, genial and commanding.
He was a profound thinker, but this he was wont to keep
masked except in the seclusion of his own library, among
trusted friends, or when a few times in the senate of the United
States he made clear to the great scholars there that they had
never learned the alphabet of the language which was needed
to make clear some of the deeper sciences of government or of
the philosophy of money. He was generous as the sunbeams
that come in the spring to drive the chill from the earth and
clothe it with verdure and flowers; his affections were of the
very deepest; his courage was equal to any test; and all the
time his sense of humor was so exquisite, his conversational
powers so wonderful that an hour with him when he was care
free was better than food to the hungry or medicine to the sick.
His judgment of men was infallible. He once said to Senator
Lodge of Massachusetts :
"Senator, I have heard many of your speeches, have read
all your published thoughts. It is a pleasure to me to tell you
that you are an eloquent speaker ; that with your epigrams and
metaphors, your logic and figures of speech and speaking the

284 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
exact words needed to make clear your thoughts, it is a delight
to read your books. Only, Senator, you have never come down
to earth. You don't know a blessed thing in the world of how
a poor man goes to work to make a living and to feed his
babies." Still, when in joyous conversation, he would frequently
pronounce a dozen words that would make clear that a pro
found problem had been mastered by him in a way that settled
it forever. He read much, and his range of reading covered
everything that was beautiful or deep or grotesque. He would
have been at home with Aristotle or Socrates. He would have
looked Julius Caesar squarely in the eyes and told him if some
proposition of his was faulty; he would have been perfectly
at home with Curran or Sheridan or Bobbie Burns. Still the
stalwarts, Conkling, Chandler, Morton and the others, leaned
upon him as upon an immovable pillar of strength.
His early life in the solemn mountains had its effect upon
him as it does on all thinking people, for in the hills man grows
close to nature. This supplemented with the depths of a great
mine where in the darkness men search for ore bodies, is never
outgrown. Such a man is not easily surprised and when the
strain is over, disappointment after that is met with no emo
tion which is apparent to others.
It was from that school that J. P. Jones emerged with
honors and soon after was elected to the United States Sen
ate, and held the place for thirty years. He made but few
speeches, one or two on the tariff, two or three on the silver
question, as it was carried on from 1873 to 1893. Of those
speeches it may be said they were never replied to. Other
senators discussed the question, but never essayed to answer
what he said. There was a reason for this — they could not.
When we consider the state of the exchanges between the
United States and the Orient, to turn back and read what Sen
ator Jones said on that question reads like a solemn prophecy.
In his first speech in the senate the experiment was made
to bombard him with questions. It was not long persisted in, for
the more questions that were asked, the more it was apparent

JOHN PERCIVAL JONES. 285
that his knowledge of his theme was the master's, that of his
inquisitors was but as a schoolboy's.
From the first he drew to him in friendship and respect
those whose friendship and respect were most to be coveted.
It could not have been otherwise. He had read all the
literature that any of them had ; his views were quite as high
and pronounced as those of the most exclusive of them all, and
still he was geniality itself and was at home everywhere; and
everywhere when he asserted himself, he held the center of
the stage. General Grant believed in him implicitly. He was never
very friendly with President Harrison, and we believe this was
through a misunderstanding. President Harrison was thought
to be cold and reserved. The truth is he was merely shy. Could
the right man have introduced them and shook them both out
into free converse, they would have been friends always.
President Arthur leaned upon Senator Jones, I believe,
more than upon any other senator. Senator Jones and Presi
dent Cleveland never affiliated. Senator Jones exactly
appreciated President Cleveland ; in return Mr. Cleveland
never had the slightest idea of the nature of Senator Jones.
Senators Conkling and Cameron were in love with the Nevada
senator, and so was President McKinley.
Senators are easily made, at least sometimes, but the
rare thing is to find an all-around great man, one who would
have been great had no books ever been written. One who, after
books were written could read them, storing in memory all the
gems of thought and discarding the rest ; one who was as great
as the best, but who, while holding himself the peer of the high
est, had his ears open always to the right, and who could detect
real manhood under the gray shirt of a miner as quickly as
under a senatorial robe.
He spent a good deal of money in his first campaign.
though he knew that his election was sure from the first. But
it seemed natural to him to be generous to the men who were
joyously working for him.
Two anecdotes of that campaign may not be out of place.
In the free-and-easy ways of the Comstock, a middle-aged.

286 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
grave and soft-voiced gambler called upon him, and proceeded
at once to business. Said he: "J. P., I can control about a
thousand votes in this coming election, but it will take some
money." "About how much money?" asked the wouid-be senator.
"As nigh as I can calculate, about ten dollars a head," was
the reply. "But who are these gentlemen who desire to sell their
votes?" was the next question.
The sport replied : "They are quiet, low-down chaps that
will never peach. An investigating court could not by torture
get a word from one of them."
"You interest me," said Jones. "But who and where are
these voters ?"
"It has taken a great deal of work on my part to get
them marshaled and all their names put down correctly," was
the reply. "But who are they, and where are you keeping them?"
asked Jones.
Then the sport's voice grew more soft and insinuating
as he said : "They are up in the burying-ground, J. P. I
have been a month chipping the moss and syenite dust off their
names and copying them."
Jones told his visitor that he did not believe he wanted
that kind of support, and the man, warning Jones that he was
likely to be sorry at not acepting the offer, retired.
A month after election, the candidate met the sport again,
who said : "J. P., you had better reconsider the reward that is
due me. You see I still have the chisel, and if I should get
angry sometime after you are gone I could disfranchise you for
all eternity." Colonel O., who was a native-born Englishman, but like
Jones, a stalwart American, told Jones that in the mines there
were a thousand English miners, and they wanted to organize a
"Jones British Club," but they had no hall to meet in.
Jones said: "All right. Find the hall, pay the rent in
advance for six months, hire a band for every night up to

JOFIN PERCIVAL JONES. 287
election day, have some refreshments on hand, and let the boys
have a good time. Come to me for what may be needed."
The programme was carried out and things went on
swimmingly up to election day.
About noon on election day O. came to Jones and told
him that the dirty dogs would not vote until a large assess
ment which they had levied was paid.
AA^ith a laugh Jones said : "Send word to them that I am
awfully busy just now, but I will come down after a while."
At about 3 p. m. they sent a messenger that they were waiting.
Jones bade the messenger tell them he would be over in a few
minutes. A fresh shift of men were at the time coming out of
the Belcher and Crown Point mines and hurrying to take their
places in line to vote.
When that line was extended until it was clear it would
take until the polls closed for them all to vote, Jones repaired
to the hall.
Mounting the little rostrum he said :
"My fellow miners, I have taken great interest in your
club from the first. When I see English-born men come to
America, and see them after they have become familiar with
the principles of our free government and understand the
opportunities supplied here for true men, take on the solemn
obligations of citizenship, I rejoice and say to myself, 'These
are worthy descendants of those Englishmen who made Eng
land free and held her free when almost all the earth outside
was lost in apparent anarchy.' And my comforting thought
is that they will be as true to the land of their adoption as they
were to the land of their birth.
"These thoughts are what prompted me to help you in
the formation of your club. It was not half so much to get
your votes, as because we all came from the same land, and
while our allegiance here is equal to any native born Ameri
cans, we have beside the memory that it was our forefathers
who, while conquering a peace for themselves, at the same time
conquered what was crude and wrong and savage in their own
natures and dedicated our England to order, to law, to liberty
to progress and enlightenment. In the meantime, too, they

288 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
established a literature of their own higher than was ever
before founded. On land and sea for a thousand years they
have held their place, until the names of her heroes and sages
and scholars make the brightest list that ever the sun shone on.
"An hundred years ago, when England had unworthy
citizens she transported those whom she did not hang. I am
satisfied that had that still been the custom, not one of you
would have ever paid your own passage money to get away.
And now, asking your pardon for detaining you so long, I
want to explain that the only reason that prompted me to
come here today was to have the pleasure of telling the last
mother's son of you that you have my full permission to go to
h — 1, and to hope that none of you will be delayed in reaching
your rightful destination."
There was a rush to reach the polls to vote against the
Jones legislative ticket, but it was too late. The whole bunch
were shut out.
He went twice, if I remember correctly, on international
monetary commissions abroad, and held his place with honor
among the world's foremost authorities on finance. Not until
past four score did he retire to his estate at Santa Monica,
California, to pass the twilight of his life there.
It was a most appropriate place. The world with its
storms and heat and cold, its fierce winds and tempests, was
all behind him. Before him was the great ocean ; its surges,
freed from all their deep-sea 'fierceness and wrath, came rolling
in, bringing in low murmurs refrains from far off shores;
bringing to the weary man whispers of peace, which to the aged
who are losing their hold on life are what a mother's lulla
by is to the child just entering upon life, and so under those
murmurs, in the soft air, from his peaceful surroundings there
he passed to the deeper peace.
He lived and died an honor to this western coast.
Because of him the manhood of the coast was exalted in
the world's estimation.
In his own home, when he died, the light of the world
well nigh went out.

ALLEN GREEN CAMPBELL.
AVERY sterling- man was Allen Green Campbell ; there
are thousands of people in Utah who knew him, who
were familiar with him every day for years; but we
venture the belief that not one in two hundred of them all
realized how true was his manhood, how high his soul.
Could he, when he was poor, have been offered a fortune
at the expense of doing an unmanly act, such as thousands
would cheerfully do and esteem it as a shrewd busines trans
action, he would have spurned it.
An instance of this was shown when the Horn Silver
mine was sold. The company had given a certain man a bond
on the mine. He went to New York and after awhile wired
or wrote Campbell to come with authority to give a title to the
mine, as it was sold. Mr. Campbell prepared the necessary
papers and went to New York. The day after his arrival he
was ushered into a room where he found the principal sub
scribers to the purchase waiting for him.
Then one of those present said : "Mr. Campbell, we have
agreed to purchase the Horn Silver mine on the report that has
been presented to us, provided you endorse the report."
The report was read to him, then pushed over the table for
his endorsement. He pushed it aside and said : "I cannot endorse that
report." "And why not?" was asked him.
"Because," he replied, "it is not true."
All looked disappointed, and the man who had obtained
the option was paralyzed. There was an oppressive silence for
a moment, when one of those present said :
"What kind of a report would you endorse, Mr. Camp
bell?" Campbell replied : "Yours, if you would but stick to the
truth."

290 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
"But I know nothing about mines or miners," said
the man. "Well," said Campbell, "push your chair up to the table
and let me make an expert out of you !"
The gentleman laughingly assented, drew some papers
and pens before him, and said, "I am ready."
Then Mr. Campbell told him to write what the surface
formation showed, giving him the data sentence by sentence.
Then he took him to the first level in the mine, had him write
the length, breadth, and the assay value of the ore shoot devel
oped there. In the same way he went through all the levels of
the mine, then he bade him put down the cost of mining, haul
ing and smelting, to make clear what the net value of the mine
so far as developed was.
Then he told him to reckon thirteen cubic feet of ore to
the ton, to calculate the tonnage, then deduct the cost of min
ing and reduction and give the gentlemen present the result.
The man was an expert accountant, and in five minutes
gave the amount, which was some $300,000 more than the
man with the option had figured out from his imagination.
Then Mr. Campbell said : "I will sign that report. You are
about the only honest expert that I have met for six months.
I will sign the report and guarantee that you will find the
mine as stated, except that on the lowest level the boys were
uncovering the ore chute several feet every day. and there will
probably be 100 feet more ore there for you than this report
includes." Then all present took on a new idea of a western miner.
Mr. Campbell was a great miner and an intense American.
He was not a scholar in the usual sense; but he would have
been a close friend of Plato or Socrates had he lived in the
generation of either of them, for he had reasoned out how
things should be from an intuition all his own.
One day when a group of men were discussing the Chi
nese question, one of them turned to him and said : "Mr.
Campbell, do you not think the Chinese should be kept out of
our country, such a menace are they to poor white laborers?"
Campbell waited a moment and then said : "The Chinese

ALLEN GREEN CAMPBELL. 291
that come to our country are poor wretches, but they are men.
They represent the results of thousands of years of want and
suffering. They are grateful to work for a pittance and to
do menial work. Could I have my way I would let them come
and do that work and at the same time exalt American work-
ingmen to places where the Chinese could not compete with
them." He always meant to be absolutely fair, and justice was
his insistance from childhood to the last clay of his life.
At the same time he had some weights upon him. He
never could outgrow some provincialisms and prejudices that
were due to the environments of his youth, and could not
always distinguish an honest man from a would-be grafter.
He became accustomed to the control of a great fortune,
but when he traded his Nevada farm for a small orange grove
at Riverside, Cal., he fixed his home there and told with more
pride that he cleared $2,000 from it the previous year, than
he ever exhibited when a mining transaction had brought him
three hundred times that amount.
He was one of the truest of friends. He and Mr. Matt
Cullen of Salt Lake City were partners in the Horn Silver
mine. To his dying day he always looked upon Mr. Cullen
as a brother.
When he accepted the nomination as a delegate to Con
gress from Utah, he did not expect or desire to hold the office.
He ran merely to vindicate a principle and as a protest against
what he looked upon as a defiance of law on the part of the
majority here.
There was much of the martyr in him. He feared noth
ing on earth except to do wrong, and he would have cheerfully
faced death for what he believed to be right.
He left his early home with nothing except his faith in
the invincibility of labor, backed by honest intentions. He
became an accomplished miner and made a fortune, but there
was not one stain upon one of the dollars he accumulated, or
upon his life while he was accumulating it.
He was a great-hearted man and a patriot as true as was
Regulus. He was always a reminder of Abraham Lincoln in

292 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
the unfeigned integrity of purpose which controlled his life.
But his hands and feet showed that he was of gentler stock
than was Mr. Lincoln.
Utah never realized how great and true a man he was,
for he was utterly unpretentious and was never in a position
where his real character shone out before the eyes of the peo
ple. He had within him all the elements of a great soul; we
do not believe that he ever himself knew how much of a factor
for good he might have been.
I one day heard a man ask him what his idea of serving
God was. He replied : "To do what little good we can here
for God's poor." That was one key to his real nature.
He died too soon, but he met death as he had all the
storms of life, with calmness and without fear.

A. C. CLEVELAND.
THE Honorable A. C. Cleveland, while yet a boy, went to
California from the state of Maine. California had a
great many fighters at that time. Cleveland went to one
of the southern counties where fighters abounded. Coming
from Maine, they thought at first he was an easy victim. After
six months he could not get a quarrel unless he forced it.
His career in that respect always reminded me of S. S.
Prentiss, who went from Maine to Mississippi. At that time
everyone fought in Mississippi. It was not long until Pren
tiss had occasion to fight a duel with he who afterwards became
Senator Foote. He was lame and walked -with a cane. The
second of Foote objected to his leaning on the cane while the
duel was on, at which he threw it away, saying-, "I can lick
Foote on one leg."
Some boys had climbed trees nearby, and during the pre
liminaries for the duel Prentiss looked up to them and said :
"Boys, look out! Foote shoots mighty wild."
But later Mississippi took Prentiss to its arms, and most
Mississippi boys at this date believe that he was to the rnanor
born in that state.
Mr. Cleveland early went to Nevada, when Nevada was
not altogether a Sunday School. In his early days he had
some few little difficulties, but he learned later to restrain
himself. His first business in Nevada was contracting, hauling tim
bers up from the flank of the Sierras to Virginia City for the
mines. He had a contract with the Gould and Curry to supply
that mine with timbers, and had a good many teamsters in his
employ, whom he paid every month. One pay clay he went to
the office to draw the needed money to pay his men, where
upon the clerk in the office said to him: "Mr. Cleveland, So
and So, one of your teamsters, has asked me to hold out his
wages that he may collect them here."
Cleveland said, "All right." But when he went away,

294 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
thinking over the matter, he became angry. The more he
thought of it the more angry he became. The habit of team
sters was to go from Carson City up into the mountains, get
their load of timber, and bring it down to Carson City; then
the next day haul it to Virginia City.
Cleveland knew the hour when the teamsters came in and
so went out on the road on foot to the outskirts of Carson to
meet this particular teamster. He came in due time. He was
not riding the near wheel mule, as was the custom, but was
up on top of the load of timbers, ten feet above the street,
driving the mules with a single rein, as was the habit. Cleve
land stopped him and said :
"You got your money all right, did you?"
"Oh, yes," said the man.
"AArell," said Cleveland, "do you know what I think
of you?" "No. I haven't the least idee," was the reply.
"Well," said Cleveland, "I think if you will come down
off that load that I can whip you to a standstill in about two
minutes and a half."
"Is that so ?" said the teamster.
"Yes, it is," said Cleveland.
"In that case," said the teamster, "I will be damned if I
come clown. "
This disarmed Cleveland entirely. Waiting a minute he
looked up and said, "Well, would you come down to take a
drink?" "AVhy," said the man, "that is different." Whereupon
they were sworn friends- for life.
The writer of this had the honor of once sitting in a
state convention in Carson City with Mr. Cleveland. There
was a contesting delegation down from Virginia City, and
the men who had charge of the hall stationed the two dele
gations on different sides. It was the old capitol building, which
was built in the form of a cross. The delegations from Vir
ginia City were on either end of one arm of this cross, and
the rest of the convention in the center between them. The
contesting delegation got control of the convention and placed

A. C. CLEVELAND. 295
Judge Fladyen of Dayton in the chair. The regular delega
tion was very angry. The contesting delegation was made up
in great part of natural fighters. One of them, a distinguished
one, took up his position in front of the speaker's desk. It was
a clear case that Hayden had been promised protection no mat
ter how he ruled. This particular delegate was named Riff
AA'illiams, or at least he was known by that name. He stood
with his profile to the audience, the mildest-faced gentleman
that anyone ever looked at; but he was indifferently picking his
teeth with a fifteen-inch bowie knife which to some people in
the hall looked ominous as it was a new tooth pick that they
were not familiar with — as a tooth pick.
As the proceedings went on, the anger increased. Hay
den was most arbitrary in his rulings and no appeal was per
mitted from them. AA'hen the crucial time seemed near I whis
pered to Cleveland, saying : "Cleve, when this row starts,
which side are you going to assimilate with?"
He whispered back, "I don't know. As I was coming
into the hall someone dropped a derringer in my pocket, but
he did not tell me which way he wanted me to shoot."
The difficulty was finally quelled by a few humorous re
marks of an outside delegate.
Cleve lived in Carson a good many years; married there,
was elected to the state senate and made a fine reputation for
his ability and his perfect fairness, and for the clear sagacity
he manifested in handling all cases. Later he moved to White
Pine county, bought a great tract of land and settled down to
ranching and stock-raising.
For this he was perfectly equipped. He knew the busi
ness and was personally perhaps the best horseman in Nevada.
He went to a friend one day and said :
"What has  against you?"
The friend said : "I have no idea in the world. We have
been good friends for several years in Nevada."
"Well," Cleveland said, "he is talking about you."
"Well," the friend said, "he has no cause. I never had
any business with him, none whatever, and he is either labor
ing under a mistake or he is just mean on general principles."

296 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Cleve went to the man and told him, and said : "I would
not follow that up, because  is not a bad man, and people
here' will believe him."
But he kept up his talk and a few days later was on a
bender and met Cleveland in town. He said :
"Come and take a drink."
"No," Cleveland said. "I don't drink."
The man, himself in his cups, rudely caught Cleveland by
the shoulder and said :
"Ah! None of that. Come in and have a drink."
AATiereupon Cleveland shot him through one arm, badly
wounding him. A few clays later the other friend said to him:
"Cleve, why did you shoot  ?"
He said : "He talks too much. That's all."
In a little while Cleveland's ranch became the stopping
place for all passersby, partly because it was a great place to
stop and partly because Cleveland had no charges for trav
elers at his ranch. He planted a great many trees. They
grew rapidly and the birds from all over that part of Nevada
came and made their happy homes in them. Cleveland gave the
word that no gun should be fired around the place lest it
frighten the birds. They must have heard of it, for with
each year more and more birds came, until the concert from
them — from lark, from robin, from oriole, from wren, and
the rest — was a genuine oratorio from daylight to dark, and
when the night came the sage thrashers and mocking birds took
up the refrain and kept it up till morning.
One day when Cleveland was absent, two or three hunters
came along just at dark and camped. They had the hospi
talities of the home, the supper, the beds, the breakfast. In
the morning they began to get out their guns. Celeveland had
a Chinese cook whom he had had for many years, and the
Chinaman became as much absorbed in the place as Cleveland
himself was. Cleveland being absent, the Chinaman thought it
his duty to look out, so he went to them and said :
"AA'hat you do dem guns?"
One of the men said : "We are going to kill some of
these birds."

A. C. CLEVELAND. 297
The Chinaman replied, "Not muchee. You no shoot 'em
birds."
"Why can't we shoot the birds?" said one of the men.
"You shootee one dese birds, old man he come home he
play hell with you!"
They put up their guns.
As Cleveland grew old, he grew more self-contained,
but one day a man came along, stopped and got his dinner,
and during the meal and afterward hurled anathemas at a cer
tain gentleman in Nevada whom he did not like. He finally
wound up by wishing that the man was there that he could
settle with him.
"Settle how ?" asked Cleveland.
He said : "I would beat him to death if he was here."
At which Cleveland said : "Do you know what you are
saying ? Do you know that that man you are talking about is
something of a fighter ?"
"It does not matter. If he was here I would beat him to
death." "Well," said Cleveland, "it is against my religious princi
ples to have a difficulty with a man — that is, any serious diffi
culty — but that man you are talking about is a friend of mine
and if you are entirely sure that you are anxious for a fight
today, I'll take the risk of getting in that friend's place."
That was a different matter. The man lost his desire for
a fight in a moment.
He was for a long time one of the prominent men of
Nevada, and once was a candidate for governor and should
have been elected except that he was running against another
man as popular as himself, Governor Sparks, and the major
ity was for Sparks.
For a long time he acted as the attorney of the Virginia
& Truckee railroad to watch legislation in Carson, that nothing
could be gotten through that was hostile to the road.
Finally he went to Carson, when the legislature met, but
was seized with a terrible cold, the clay before the meeting,
which swiftly developed into pneumonia, and he lay at death's
door until the session was over. He returned by Salt Lake,
20

298 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
and was for a few days under a physician's care. I met the
physician and asked him if Cleveland was all right, and he
replied : "He is going to get up and go home, but he will not
live three years.
Two years later, one Saturday night, he went to a little
house near his main residence, where the hired help con
gregated, asked the boys for a newspaper or two and went to
the house. Within five minutes one of the boys followed him.
He was sitting in a chair holding the newspaper, and with one
hand on the table, evidently reaching for his spectacles. But
he was stone dead.
He was a man of wonderful ability, a man with a heart
bigger than his breast; a man quick of temper, but just and
generous to all. He was my friend, without a moment's dis
agreement, for forty years. He did as much as any other one
man to make Nevada a state and to keep it glorified. There
was hardly a man, woman or child in the state that did
not know him ; there was not one who was not a mourner
when he died.

"JOGGLES" WRIGHT.
IF I ever heard his first name I have forgotten it. Then,
were it published, not many of his friends would know
who was meant, for they knew him only as "Joggles."
He always reminded me of a thoroughbred horse that had
been brought up in a band of mustangs. He could outfoot any
of them, out-jump any of them; he had more deviltry in him
than any of them, but he was as fond of their comradeship
as though they had all been of the blood royal.
He was of fine stock, that was clear, and must have been
trained at home in all polite usages, for when the occasion
required it he showed that he was familiar with all the rules of
select society.
But he must have run away early from home, for there
was always a vagrant, untamable side of his nature. He was
from the south somewhere, Maryland, or more likely Virginia,
for when he first appeared in Nevada, he quickly found he who
was later Governor Bradley of Nevada, and being broke, Brad
ley instructed him in his duties, and giving him a $200 shep
herd dog, set him to herding sheep.
To give him such a place was on the same plane of wis
dom as that which had Paul Sheridan assigned to the quarter
master's staff when the big war was on.
AAYight tired of the position within three days, and to vary
the monotony, kettled the dog "just to see him run," though
the dog knew more about herding sheep than Wright ever
learned. He went to Belmont and engaged to work as a miner.
Whether he had known the business before or not I do
not know, but he soon became an expert miner, then a foreman,
then a superintendent. He quickly showed that he not only
understood mining, but further, that he understood mines, and
where ore bodies were liable to make good, and how to reach
them. Moreover, he swiftly demonstrated that he knew how to

300 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
handle men, how to get full work from them, and at the same
time hold their respect and gain their affection.
When he began to earn more money than he ever had
before, he began to look carefully at every horse that came into
Belmont, on the pretense that he wanted a saddle horse.
At last he found one to suit him, bought it, and was seen
i iding the horse out of town for an hour or two daily.
A race-horse man came into Belmont one day and an
nounced a desire to run his horse 600 yards against anything
that Belmont could produce. Wright paid no attention to him
the first day, but the second day, when the stranger offered
to run his animal at five to four against any horse that could
be produced, "Joggles" closed with him on a $500 race.
"Joggles' " horse was badly beaten, for the stranger had
a really great horse, and "Joggles" financially was where he
was when he first entered the camp, except that he still had
his horse. He did not mind the money loss, but his pride was
badly shattered.
AAmen he arose next morning he went to the stable and
had his horse brought out. He looked him over, and expressed
the belief that his judgment had not erred, that he was satis
fied his horse only lacked confidence in himself; that if such
confidence could be built up he was sure he would make a
four-mile racer.
Then he proceeded to give the horse confidence. He found
an empty can in the stable and made a hole near the top of
the can, tied a rope in the hole and the other end to the horse's
tail. He got some pebbles and put them in the can ; and striking
the flank of the horse with the flat of his hand, at the same
instant whooped at him like a Comanche.
The horse sprang forward, and feeling the attachment
and hearing- the rattle of the pebbles, dashed down the main
street in a frenzy of fear.
"Joggles" danced for joy, shouting like a lunatic. "Didn't
I tell you he could run if I could only give him confidence?"
AAdien his hilarity subsided, he said he would make the
stable man a present of the horse, if he could catch him, and
thereafter went on foot to and from the mine.

"JOGGLES" WRIGHT. 301
After he left Belmont he bought a small band of cattle
and was camped with them near the sink of the Carson. One
morning his head vaquero explained to him that the camels
that had been packing salt from the salt beds near the sink to
the Virginia City quartz mills — silver mills use large quan
tities of salt in reducing ore — were on the range about twenty-
five miles away; that old Brigham, the patriarch of the herd,
had a mane four feet long; that they could go over there,
throw a rope on him, shear off his mane and from the hair.
make two fine lariats.
So, next morning they saddled their horses, rode to where
the camels were, dismounted, re-cinched their saddles, and the
vaquero urged his frightened horse — horses are afraid of
camels — near enough and threw his lariat over old Brigham's
head before Brigham realized what was intended.
But it happened to be just that season of the year when
Brigham was sure that he was lord of all he surveyed. When
the lariat began to tighten around his neck, he did not wait,
but turned, and with mouth open and ears back, started for the
horse. That animal, wild with fear, turned and sprang into a
run. The vaquero cut his lariat at the saddle and fled for his
life, while "Joggles" filled the air with shouts of laughter.
The camel chased the vaquero a mile and then returned to his
family, still proud, but disappointed that he did not overhaul
the man who dared to throw the rope on him. But he had the
rope to show as a proof of his valor. The two men reached
home at 10 p. m., the vaquero bewailing the loss of his lariat.
Three or four years later a newspaper published that the
camels had been returned to Arizona and were running wild.
A friend seeing the article, asked "Joggles" if he did not
believe it would be fun to hunt wild camels. "Joggles" ex
pressed doubts, but admitted that it was great fun to see an
angry camel hunt a man.
When Johnnie Skae gained control of the Sierra Nevada
on the Comstock, Wright was appointed superintendent. He
sank that wonderful incline, all in ore, twelve hundred feet,
and made the short cross-cut in ore and every one believed it
was a ereater bonanza than that of the Con-Cal Virginia. It

302 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
was but a pipe of ore ; a thousand men lost their fortunes in the
stock, but it was a wild dream while it lasted.
The Sierra Nevada ground is four miles north of Virginia
City proper. Wright kept a saddle horse to go to town and
return. One morning, as he was going from the hoisting
works to the office, he met his secretary — one Ford — coming
from the office. As they met, "Joggles" said, "Which way,
Ford?" Ford replied that he was going to town. "On foot?"
asked "Joggles." Ford said yes. "Why don't you take the
horse?" asked "Joggles." Ford replied that he would like to if
the horse was not going to be used.
'Why, certainly, take him ; the loafer is eating his head
off. AAdiat is the use of walking?" said Wright.
Ford saddled the horse and rode away. He returned three
or four hours later. He was a big man, an athlete, six feet
tall, and weighed two hundred pounds, but as he entered the
office where Wright was sitting, his lips were white. He
showed three or four contusions on his face, and was trem
bling like a frightened girl. Looking up, "Joggles" exclaimed :
"Why, Ford, you look demoralized. Did you have a scrap
clown town?"
"No, no scrap," said Ford, "but at the highest place on the
grade that horse of yours suddenly turned, jumped off the
grade, bucked to the bottom of the ravine and tossed me on
a pile of rocks."
"You don't say so !" said "Joggles." "Why, confound him,
we will sell him ; he did the same trick with me yesterday."
But poor Wright. He burned his candle at both ends.
He would work all day, run with the boys all night and be
back to work next day as though nothing had happened. He
was a leader everywhere, no matter what strata of humanity
he happened to come upon.
Suddenly one day he collapsed. One physician was sent
for ; he sent for another and one of them was obliged to tell him
that he had but a few days, perhaps but a few hours, to
live. He received the news in his old, careless way, saying:
"If it was measured up maybe I have lived out my full three
score years and ten."

"JOGGLES" WRIGHT. 303
The morning before he died Judge Belknap bent over him
and said, "Wright, you ought to pull through. You do not
look like a dying man." To which he replied : "I do not
seem to feel like one, but those doctors say they have a corner
on me." I saw him three hours before he died. His mind was ram
bling, but, turning his head wearily on the pillow, he said :
"Hurry, for the boys are having a hard time down on the
sixteenth level."
The air of Nevada is still filled with echoes of him. Flis
courage was perfect; his generosity of the frank and joyous
kind; he was like Brinsford Sheridan, if he could not help a
friend up, he would lie down beside him. He was careless
what kind of a crowd he was in, but at the same time he had
an independence of character which caused him to hold him
self the peer of the very highest.
He had ability enough to justify him to aspire to the
highest places, but he did not care for personal honors ; he had
neither social nor political ambition; his sense of humor was
limitless; he had little reverence, and would have fired a joke
at the Archbishop of Canterbury ; when he was superintendent
of a great mine, he would leave his work any time to seize the
rope of a fire engine running to a fire, all the way yelling :
"Jump her! Jump her, boys!" His animal spirits were in
exhaustible; he struck Nevada when that state was a central
station for the world's sensations ; he had no more self-control
than an unbroken colt; he lived fifty years in fifteen, and was
no more disciplined on the last day than when he kettled his
own horse to see him run.
All the time he had no enemy except himself. This life
to him was a place to have fun in, and at last he cast it aside
as carelessly as he had used it all his days.

MOSES KIRKPATRICK.
BORN in Kentucky in 1829, educated in an Indiana col
lege, and then a three-years course in the Louisville,
Kentucky, law school, he went to St. Louis a partner
with the great Blair family of lawyers. He practiced there
until the "call of the wild" from California drew him west.
My recollection is that he was, so to speak, an aristo
cratic emigrant. Others drove oxen attached to red wagons.
He engineered a mule team and his wagon was blue with red
fretwork on the box borders. That "fretwork" is more appro
priate than ordinary mortals can understand, for there was a
good deal of fretting in those emigrant trains. There was a
great deal of labor attached to it, and then there were other
features to try the nerves of men and women. The awful still
ness of the desert is something which, after a few days, gives
the one who has borne it a sense of relief to hear some over
worn teamster consign his team to perdition in a language
which is an improvement over that which "our army in Flan
ders" used.
Then after the silence of the clay, the voices of the night
come, for wolves "bay the moon" as well as dogs, and the
owl's hoot, coming to the ears of a half asleep man, fills his
brain with visions of a mighty bird of prey that is swooping
clown to carry off his team, his wagon and himself.
I recall that once I stopped at old man Phillips' Peoria
hotel, fourteen miles from Marysville.
The old man drank a little in the forenoon, ate his dinner
at 12 m., then slept for an hour, and then drank a little more
to be ready for supper. I was young in those days, and while
waiting for dinner the old man was looking me over. In the
language of that day, he was "sizing me up."
Finally he said : "Young man, how long have you been
in this country?" I told him.
"Cross the p>lains ?" was his next question.
I said, "No; I came by steamer via Panama."

MOSES KIRKPATRICK. 305
'Well, you don't know anything," was his response, and
continuing he said : "I lived with my wife twenty-five years and
thought I had got acquainted with her, but we had not been
out a week from home on the way here until I found I had
never had an introduction to her. I had fixed up a fine wagon,
had it covered with all care, then had a fly put over the cover
to chase the heat away.
"I drove the oxen, my wife sat under the double cover,
for all the time I was getting the outfit ready, my thought was,
'I must make the old lady as comfortable as possible.'
"But the fourth day out I halted the team at sundown and
began to make camp.
"Then my wife put her head out from beneath the wagon
cover and said : 'Are you going to camp here ?'
"I told her that I thought I would, whereupon she re
marked in a high soprano voice that 'It is the meanest place
I've seen today. Why didn't you camp over there?'
"Things grew complicated more and more for a week until
one day I said to her : Mrs. Phillips, you are my wife and it's
all right, but if you were not my wife, I would' — I stopped
right there and went after the oxen just to work off my steam,
and I had 'em on a gallop in a minute."
Reaching California, Kirkpatrick opened a law office in
Camptonville or Downieville. There were some great lawyers
there — Thornton, Stewart, Rising, Meredith, Taylor, Dunn,
Hawley,a splendid array of wonderful young lawyers, but from
the first Kirkpatrick was up in the front rank and soon made
a state reputation. He* served one term in the legislature, and
was on the direct road to political preferment.
He went with the others to the Comstock, and the law
firm of Stewart, Kirkpatrick and Rising was soon leading.
As explained elsewhere, the Comstock at first was found
pitching to the west. The great lode is high on the mountain
side at the base of Mount Davidson. All the way down the
hill to the east for a third of a mile the hillside was covered
with strata quartz, and all these were located, some of them
three deep.
The lode pitched to the west, and as great an authority

306 IS I REMEMBER THEM.
as Professor Silliman said the heart of the lode would be found
under Mount Davidson.
But both Professor Stewart and Professor Clayton dis
agreed with that theory, declaring that there must be a fault
somewhere, that the natural pitch was to the east. AVhen a
depth of about 200 feet was reached the ledge gave out. Sink
ing a few feet and then drifting east a few feet, it was found
again, pitching to the east.
Then the question at once arose : Who owned the ground
the surface of which had been located? It was finally decided
that the men or company who owned the apex of a lode owned
it in all its depth, no matter where it led. But it required years
of litigation to establish that rule, and some of the cases in
volved millions, such fees were paid as were never heard of
before, which brought such an array of legal talent to the
Comstock as was never previously seen in so small a place.
Among their names Kirkpatrick's was in the front rank. At
one time he left Nevada for a couple of years, but the spell of
the place drew him back.
The crash of the Sierra Nevada mine broke half the coast,
and Kirkpatrick was one of the victims. He removed to Salt
Lake City, then was engaged by the late Marcus Daly to go to
Butte, Montana, to look after the great Anaconda legal busi
ness. He went to Ohio to try one mining case, and his hand
ling of it evoked the surprise and admiration of the foremost
lawyers of that state.
Three or four years later he visited Salt Lake City on
business, was seized with illness about 5 p. m., and died at
10 a. m. next day.
He was one of the great lawyers of the coast, one of the
foremost men. In his home he was the most devoted husband
and farther; we doubt whether he ever uttered a cross word
there. The grief over his death still lasts, though it is more than
twenty years since he passed away. He helped lay the founda
tions of three states ; for forty years he was a power on the
west coast, and he went to his grave covered with honors, and
without one reproach following him.

"ZINC" BARNES.
I BELIEVE his initials were S. C, but they soon degen
erated into "Zinc," and that is the only name that thou
sands ever knew him by. I have before now written of a
good many gentlemen of character. Zinc's character was in
the main fine, but there were holes in it. He was a royal
friend, so true that I fear had a real friend needed something-
Zinc would have got it for him ; and had his own finances
been in borasco, he, by the enchantment of his reasoning-, would
have drawn it from the opulence of others.
His initial venture in Nevada in one of those first two or
three hard winters was on a ranch above Carson City, where
there was some timber and a little grass.
It may be said that Zinc did not obtain the ranch for the
purpose of improving it and making a homestead of it, but
held it to wait for the boom which in those days always came
in the spring, when sometimes it was easier to work a "sucker"
than a ranch.
The former owner had built a dugout to live in; that is,
he had "cut out a station" on the side hill, put up some logs
on the sides and covered it with poles. On these was piled
brush, and some earth which he had packed down with his
shovel. When in Carson someone asked him if he had a house on
his ranch. He answered: "Why certainly." "Tell us about it,
Zinc !" was next demanded. 'Why," replied Zinc, "it has
rustic sides, for that is my taste, a beam roof, for I always
admired beam roofs, even if costly, but I have no door, rather
I have hung before it a piece of rare old tapestry to remind
me as I go in or come out of my mother, for she had a passion
for rare tapestry." The questioner walked away, whereupon
Zinc turned to Joe Farren and asked him if he had a large
dollar which he could loan on unquestioned security. I was
told that the tapestry which made the door was manufactured

308 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
out of two gunny sacks, which is certainly as plausible as was
Zinc's tapestry story.
When the country around the Comstock was pretty well
located, a young man one day pointed out to some companions.
that the range in which the Comstock was located was cut in
twain by the Truckee river and the mountains north of the
Truckee had never been explored for mineral indications, and
proposed to organize a prospecting party and prospect up and
down that range. The proposition was at once approved and
a party of fifteen or twenty young men started out from about
where Reno now is. • All were riding small mustangs except
Barnes, who was mounted on a very tall and long mule and a
mule with a wide reputation for its indisposition to indulge in
violent exercise.
As they were riding along the first day the question of
food was sprung, whereupon Zinc explained that many things
which were really good food were ignored through a foolish
prejudice. "For instance," he continued, "there are few dishes
more dainty and wholesome than a broiled rattlesnake." He
was laughed to scorn, but insisted.
They descended from a low hill into a small grassy valley
with a clear stream running through it, where they deter
mined to camp for the night. Their coming started up a score
of fat rabbits and the boys shot a dozen of them. One of the
boys ran upon a big rattler in coil and shot his head off. This
was skinned and cooked in a separate frying pan and laid in a
coil before the tin plate of Barnes. But amid the railing of
the crowd Zinc insisted on eating rabbit. When he had finished
he lighted his pipe and when all was still suddenly broke out
with :
"I still insist that when a man needs an appetizer there is
nothing finer than a cooked rattler, but after riding all day a
man does not need an appetizer, and so can choose what to
eat, and under such circumstances the man who does not choose
rabbit is off his base."
AAdien the country began to have a mineral look, they all
dismounted, one man led the animals and the others spread out
on the hillsides prospecting. In that way they continued to

"ZINC" BARNES. 309
wander further and further north, when one day they ran upon
a band of renegade Piutes or Modocs in their war paint. The
boys ran to their animals, sprang upon them and beat a retreat.
But Zinc could get no speed out of his mule and he called to the
others: "Hold on, boys ! Hold on ! There is only a little band
of them. We can lick them easily."
But his cries were unheeded. Suddenly an arrow aimed at
Zinc fell a little short and struck the mule just beside the mule's
tail. This aroused the mule, and seeing or scenting the sav
ages, he laid his ears back and started at a pace which soon
overtook the mustangs.
As'Zinc swept by his companions he cried to them: "Come
on ! Come on ! You sons of guns. If there is one Indian after
you there's a million."
He held ever after, that the point of view was everything
sometimes. After awhile Zinc bought out the title of a man whose
claim lapped over on Bonanza ground, and his was the oldest
title. Zinc demanded possession of the ground and an account
ing, and being refused, began suit.
He enlisted the services of a brilliant lawyer, and no case
was ever better prepared or presented.
It was tried in the federal court, Judge Sawyer of San
Francisco presiding.
When the hearing was over and it came time to charge the
jury, the judge descended from the bench, went and stood in
front of the jury and for half an hour expounded the law in a
way which was an astonishment to all that heard it.
Zinc listened until the close, then turning to his lawyer,
said : "Sawyer is a perfectly unbiased, unprejudiced judge,
is he not?" "Why do you ask?" was the reply. "O, nothing-
much," said Zinc. "I was only thinking that if that is an un
biased opinion, what a splendid attorney he would make if
he were really interested on one side of a case."
Zinc, finally drifted across the country from Bodie to
Pioche. AAmen Zinc reached Pioche his services were needed. The

310 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
great trial was on between the Raymond and Ely and the
Meadow valley mining companies, and some people thought
that Zinc had a sort of hypnotic power over a jury.
It was there that he gave voice to his idea of an honest
man — "a son of a gun who will stay bought."
The air of Nevada is still filled with the echoes of his
quaint and terse sayings.
He had the exact estimate of every man he came in con
tact with and could write a full biography of many of them in
an epigram. He was an all around genius, but had no terminal
points ; no fixedness of purpose, no apparent care for what hap
pened the day before or what would happen the day following.
Thousands of men with less ability have made for them
selves fortunes and high names, but he seemed to care for
neither. He looked upon life as a game, and that to lose was
no sign of want of ability, but a want of luck.
He looked upon life as a game, and that to lose was no
sign of want of ability, but a want of luck.
He died a painful death in Idaho, but those who were
with him said despite his great sufferings, his quaint remarks
lingered to the last, and he died just as he had lived, looking
upon death as merely a gateway beyond which there was an
other land to explore, but from which the point of view would
be everything.

GENERAL THADDEUS H. STANTON.
HE was a major when I knew him first. He made his
headquarters at Salt Lake City during the years that
Major General Alex. McDowell McCook was sta
tioned at Fort Douglas. He had all the elements of a great
soldier; he was a perfectly equipped great citizen. When he
reached Salt Lake he bore the name of "Crook's fighting pay
master." That came from the fact that during all the years that
General Crook was fighting the Indians on the frontier, when
ever a fight was on, it was Stanton's fashion to forget that he
was paymaster, and taking a gun went into the ranks with the
regular infantry and fought so long as any Indians were in
sight. Of course the soldiers all swore by him. He did not
do it because he loved fighting, but he had a theory that if in
a fight with Indians, other things being about equal, the
white man can hold up steady for a few minutes, the red man
will give way ; and his presence in a company, his presence and
words of cheer, and the absence of all fear on his part, were
calculated to hold the men up into the fight, when otherwise
a panic might have come upon them.
His general bearing was that of a light-hearted, jovial,
kindly man. Only a few of us knew how fine a scholar and
profound a thinker he was, or how intense was his patriotism.
When stationed in Salt Lake he made frequent journeys
to all the military stations in this intermountain region, to pay
off the soldiers. Once he went to Fort Washakie in northern
Wyoming in midwinter. From the railroad station at some
point in Wyoming — Rawlins, I believe — the trip was by stage
some 100 miles, and the thermometer showed over 30 degrees
below zero.
When he reached the fort the officers all exerted them
selves to minister to him and make him comfortable. When at
last he had been served with a hot meal and was fairly warmed

312 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
through, some of the officers asked him if he had not nearly
perished in the intense cold.
He assured them that while the air was a little bracing and'
might have seemed really cold to boys — there were several
young lieutenants stationed there — it was just wholesome to a
veteran. This bantering went on until some of the young
officers told him that he was born before the real tough stock
of Americans had appeared; that old chaps like himself had
not the constitution to stand a real endurance test. To this
Stanton replied that it would be easy to demonstrate that right
then. At Washakie there is a big hot spring, the waters of
which below the spring are caught in a pool ; so Stanton pro
posed that they all go down and take a bath in the spring.
Half a dozen of them accepted and disrobed as Stanton
did, went into the pool, then out, naked, following Stanton,
left the water and lay down on a snow bank close by, and
repeated this three or four times. It is the wonder of the
world that it did not kill them all. When the young officers
got warm enough to talk, they admitted that possibly a few
tough men might have been born before the stalwart age
came in.
When here the major always dressed in plain clothes or
undress uniform, except when it was pay day at Fort Douglas.
Then he was always in full uniform and on such days, while
he had on that uniform, no persuasion could induce him to
enter a saloon.
With him the army of the United States represented the
glory of the republic, the flag it bore was a standard so sacred
that all those in whose immediate custody it was entrusted
should always, when on duty, show that their lives were con
secrated to its defense — "their lives, their fortunes and sacred
honor." His loyalty was something beautiful to see. The
president of the United States was his commander-in-chief, and
if any one in his presence had aught to say in criticism of him,
Stanton would walk away.
But he was just as loyal to friends. When Mr. Cleve
land was elected president, he sent a gentleman to Utah with an
appointment as surveyor general of the territory. He was a

GENERAL THADDEUS PI. STANTON. 313
finely educated and accomplished gentleman, a kindly man
withal and on his arrival at Salt Lake wanted to be on good
terms with all the people. But he evidently had never been
west and he brought with him a somewhat narrow provin
cialism. He was met on his arrival by Mr. Barratt, a prominent
Democrat, who naturally invited him to the Alta club and
introduced him to the gentlemen there. The call lasted perhaps
forty minutes, when Mr. Barratt escorted him to his hotel. On
the street the new surveyor general suddenly turned to Mr.
Barratt and with mingled surprise and gratification, said :
"Barratt, do you know that from that hasty visit I would judge
that 60 per cent of those gentlemen in the club, in intelligence,
would average very well with the men of Illinois."
Barratt, himself an old Baltimore thoroughbred, left him
at the hotel and then went to find Stanton.
To him he recounted what the new federal appointee had
said. Stanton listened and then said : "This is serious, Bar
ratt, I must think it over." He took the first conveyance
for Fort Douglas and told General McCook. "You are sure
he said it, Stanton?" said McCook. Then he made a brief
oration, made up in great part of compound adjectives.
Finally he said : "Next Thursday is Jackson day. It is only
fair to pay our respects to this new federal officer. I will give
a reception on that day and invite the gentleman to attend.
I will invite a few others to make everything agreeable. Sit
down and help me make out the list."
The reception was set for 10 a. m. and a good many car
riage loads of gentlemen were there on the hour. General Mc
Cook and all his officers, in full uniform, received them and
made them welcome..
The general had brewed one of his famous punches. Those
McCook punches besides being wonderful to the palate were
loaded down with character. They looked innocent as lambs
and harmless as doves on the surface, but in their depths lay
coiled serpents as potential as cobras. Of course the first thing
was to drink the health of the president ; then to the memory
21

314 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
of the hero of New Orleans ; then to the army of the United
States ; then to the flag ; then to the governor of the territory.
Evidently the new surveyor general had never found any
such beverage before and this was not only wonderful, but free.
Within fifteen minutes he volunteered to make a speech. It
was cheered vociferously and he made another. Then his
health was proposed and drunk with irrepressible enthusiasm
and so he made a third speech which broke down party lines
and Democrats and Republicans were all brothers.
In forty-five minutes after his arrival he was asleep under
the table and the expression on Stanton's face was something
delicious to see. Mr. Barratt acknowledged his obligation
to him. When the kaiser's brother, in his journey around the
world, reached Salt Lake, he stopped off for a day's rest. His
attendants were a count and a baron. I think that Stanton
had received a request from Washington to make their visit
as pleasant as possible. As a representative of the army he
met them and did what he could for them. The prince had a
cold, and Stanton had Dr. Allen or Dr. Hamilton visit him
and advise him not to go out in the night air.
Thereupon, when the prince was disposed of, Stanton took
the count and baron to the Alta club. The gentlemen of the
club did what they could to make the night pleasant for the
distinguished guests. About 2 a. m. the major escorted them
back to the hotel. It was cold and sloppy weather, I think in
February. It had stormed during the evening, a half rain
half snow down-pour, and the sidewalk was slippery and far
from dry. Reaching the hotel the major said the count
insisted on sitting down on the sidewalk and as he did so he
remarked : "I haf been der vurld around und like Salt Lake I
finds nottings."
AVith a proper expression of sorrow the major told me of
it the next day, and admitted that it was bad, but added that
it was impossible to do the great German empire and emperor
too much honor when their representatives came to this
country. The above gives a faint idea of the joyous side of General

GENERAL TFIADDEUS PI. STANTON. 315
Stanton's character. There was a boyish side to him which
never grew old, but his inner nature was that of a hero and
statesman. Could more than one recent candidate for presi
dent have heard him for half an hour discuss the principles
upon which this government of ours was founded, the vital
points which were to outline what should be, with proper lim
itations, beyond which neither legislators nor executives might
go ; how representatives were but to execute the people's will
and how they were to be checked if they attempted either exper
iments or usurpations beyond that; how the civil power must
always dominate up to the point of actual war ; how until that
point should be reached both the army and navy were as much
subject to the civil authority as the humblest citizen ; how
patriotism did more to make a man a good citizen than all
the schools, and love for the flag was not only a duty but an
inspiration; those candidates would no longer advocate some
things which they have advocated.
He went from Salt Lake to Denver and finally was sta
tioned in AA^ashington, D. C, as assistant paymaster general,
and with the coming of the Spanish-American war became pay
master-general. The work he performed then was marvelous. He had the
regular and volunteer armies to look after, a thousand stations
from Porto Rico to the Philippines to take care of and keep in
order, and when his work was critically analyzed, not one error
on his part was found.
He was retired shortly after the war closed, and a little
later died. He visited Salt Lake some half year previous to
his death. He was the same Stanton, though he had aged
much, and it was clear that he had not long to live.
There was all the old exquisite humor, the same joyous
personality; the same old love for friends; the same clear
instinct of right and wrong ; the same devotion to native land ;
the same reverence for the flag — the same invincible, irrepres
sible spirit, the same high heroic soul. He lived the perfect
citizen and soldier, and if his spirit was questioned in the
beyond, he was able to answer: "It was a little rough down
there at times, but if you will look, you will find that my books
every night showed an exact balance."

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY.
ONE of the strong men that for a quarter of a century
helped to give direction to the thought and the political
history of Utah was Col. W. M. Ferry. He came of
a sterling race. His ancestors emigrated from France to
England and then to Massachusetts. The original Ferry in
this country, at least to which any date attaches, was Charles
Ferry, who took the oath of allegiance to the government of
the Massachusetts colony at Springfield, in 1675.
Colonel William Montague Ferry was a child of the fron
tier, having been born at Michilimiackimal, Michigan, in 1824,
when Michigan was practically a wilderness. He was the
eldest son of Rev. Wm. M. and Amanda White Ferry. The
elder Ferry was a Presbyterian clergyman who went to Mich
igan as a missionary. He was a devout Christian; but he be
longed to the Church Militant, not as a fighter, but as one with
out fear. Before he moved there to begin his work, he sailed
with two Indians in a canoe around Lake Michigan, over
to Chicago, when it had not a thousand people, and up to the
beautiful site now occupied by Milwaukee.
Then he took charge of the Mackinaw mission, and for
several years maintained it.
It was there that Colonel Wm. M. Ferry was born. In
1834 the elder Ferry, with his little family, removed to the
present site of Grand Haven, Michigan, the family being the
first white settlers of Ottowa county. There Colonel Ferry
grew to manhood. That fact alone is sufficient to make clear
that there is nothing of savagery or hardship on the frontier
that he did not learn while yet a boy to accept as a matter of
course. His educational advantages were such as the frontier
could furnish. When a child he was taught to write and
cypher in sand boxes, such as were in use in the Indian mission.
Colonel Ferry's father's experience in college was a hard

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 317
one in working his way and he did not wish it repeated by his
sons. But he was a teacher himself, and had a fine library;
then two eccentric men came to Grand Haven and each had a
choice library which they united and to this the boy had per
petual access. One season he spent in Massachusetts and there
attended the Sanderson Academy, then in charge of Henry L.
Dawes, who later was Senator Dawes of Massachusetts.
After he was twenty, young Ferry nearly lost his life in
trying to save people on a stranded ship, and being through
this unable to work, he was a year in Kalamazoo College,
standing high in his class. From childhood he was an insati
able reader. All his life, at home or on a journey, if his pockets
were searched, a book, generally a classic, could be found. The
frontier itself with its loneliness, its lakes and forests with their
manifold voices is a pretty good school to thoughtful boys.
Once he ran upon a pompous clergyman who gave away
the fact of his dense ignorance every time he opened his mouth,
but he knew a few words and phrases of Latin, and these he
was prone to unload on any audience. Tired at last, Colonel
Ferry one day told him that it was an accomplishment to speak
a foreign tongue, but dangerous unless the speaker knew the
roots of the language. Then said: "Hear me!" Then for
five minutes he hurled imprecations at the man, which were
enough to cure him of his habit. The language used by the
colonel was high-class Chippewa.
As the colonel grew up he mastered the trades of a
machinist and engineer. His mechanical genius was a gift.
All his life if anything was going wrong in machinery in mo
tion, he would detect it in a moment by the sound, or rather
by the want of rhythm in the sound.
Because of the floods of water encountered in the Ontario
mine at Park City, Utah, it was found necessary to install a
great Cornish pump. It was a massive affair intended to keep
the mine drained to a depth of 1200 feet. It had been running
but a few days when Colonel Ferry drove past in his buggy.
The great engine was knocking badly. The colonel was an
old man, but he stopped his buggy, and calling a man who hap
pened to be outside the works, bade him tell the engineer that

318 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
he wished to speak to him. In a moment the engineer came to
the buggy and said : "AVhat can I do for you, Colonel ?"
"Nothing for me," was the reply, "but why do you not
stop the knocking of that engine ?"
"I have racked my brains over that until I am getting rat
tled," said the engineer. "I have tried water and oil and a
dozen other things. I have begun to think there is a spirit in
that cylinder that is knocking to get out."
"There is no elasticity in oil or water," said the colonel,
"but there is plenty of it in air. Bore a hole about the size of
a gimlet into the cylinder two or three inches from the cylinder
head on the exhaust end ; the air will make a cushion that will
serve as a buffer and should stop the knocking."
That done, the spirit must have escaped through the
hole, for there was never any more knocking.
The colonel had hardly finished his education — of mind
and hand — when he became noted as a skilful draughtsman,
engineer and inventor. He was given several patents for his
inventions. In 1856 he was elected a regent of the University
of Michigan, which place he held until he went to the war.
The previous year he had erected the Ottowa Iron Works,
a large foundry and machine shop, near Grand Haven, and
was engaged largely in the manufacturing of steam engines,
stationary and for lake boats, his own saw mills which revo
lutionized the sawing of timber in the old northwest, pro
pellers and all kinds of machinery.
In 1851 he married Miss Jeanette Hollister, and perhaps
had he searched the world over he never could have found a
woman so gentle and tender, so serene under trials, and yet so
strong and steady-minded as the wife he married. Surely not
one who could have so steadied his impetuous and sometimes
imperious nature. His business prospered ; he was gaining in
the estimation of men ; the world was bright before him when
the call for soldiers came in 1861.
He was in politics an aggressive Democrat; he had
grieved exceedingly over the election of Mr. Lincoln; all his
life he had heard his father preach peace and good will; after

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 319
a hard childhood and boyhood peace and plenty had come to
him, and hope was beckoning him on to fortune and fame.
But there was duty. Had not his grandfather and grand
uncle fought side by side through the Revolutionary war?
Had not his father come to Michigan when it was but a wil
derness, bringing little save a Bible in one hand and a rifle in
the other and with these entered the mighty wild to subdue it ?
Behind him was an ancestry that whether they knew much of
the Bible or not, did know how to handle a gun. And now his
native land was assailed, its integrity was threatened ; its flag
had been fired upon. He did not hesitate a moment. He
entered as a private in the Fourteenth Michigan Infantry. He
was in the hell of Pittsburg Landing; at the siege of Corinth;
in all the battles of the Army of the Tennessee; then having
been promoted through all the grades to a captaincy, he became
an aid to General McPherson in General Grant's army, was
wounded at Vicksburg, and when he was exulting over the fall
of that stronghold, his younger brother Noah was dying a sol
dier's death on the red field of Gettysburg.
When first promoted to his captaincy, Colonel Ferry, by
direct appointment of President Lincoln, was assigned sub
sistence commissary. Early in 1862 he made a report, making
clear the lamentable condition of the soldiers in field and hos
pital, owing to the lack in the regular army rations to provide
for the wounded and sick, and condemning the sutler sys
tem as a robbing of the soldiers.
General Rosecrans approved his report, but was powerless
to inaugurate a remedy, and told Captain Ferry that any one
attempting an innovation would be summarily dismissed from
the service. But because of his sympathy for the suffering
men and because he knew that he was right, the captain
assumed the responsibility, ordered from the north, on gov
ernment account, what he wanted, and introduced a commuta
tion of rations, through which, in lieu of such portions of the
regular rations as soldiers did not desire, they could receive
such other articles as were needful for their health and com
fort, limited to the prescribed cost of the regular rations.
His first monthly report to the subsistence department at

320 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
Washington, containing full explanations of what he had done
and was doing, was emphatically and absolutely condemned.
To this Captain Ferry replied more fully, explaining the
need of the change, pointed out that the results were most sat
isfactory and reminding the department that the innovation
involved no extra expense. His plan received no formal sanc
tion, but it was not forbidden, and so was continued and soon
became an unwritten law. After the close of the war it crystal-
ized into a rule in the department and was finally approved by
Congress, the sutler system abolished, and now officers and
their families, soldiers in rank and hospital may select any kind
of rations they desire within the cost of regular rations.
Immediately after the fall of Vicksburg, with its garrison
and the Federal army of ninety thousand men in a region that
had been laid waste, General Grant ordered Colonel Ferry to
provide at Vicksburg as he had the previous year at Corinth,
such additions to the rations as the health of the army required,
and "any needed luxuries" for the soldiers in the field and
hospitals, and General Tecumseh Sherman, after Corinth, said
to him : "Ferry, you have left your mark in the army, and it
will stand to your honor as long as the United States has
an army." After the death of General McPherson, and the promo
tion of Captain Ferry to the grade of lieutenant-colonel, he was
ordered by General Grant to proceed to Memphis, Tenn., to
take charge of the receipts and disbursements of army supplies
for the armies of the South and Southwest. His responsibili
ties there were very great, but he found time to write regularly
to Harper's AAreekly and occasionally to the Chicago Tribune
and other journals. He also wrote up his own experiences in
the army with a view of publishing them. He was a terse and
accomplished writer, while his absolute truthfulness shone
out in every line.
His perfect mastery of the French language brought him
offers of honorable and lucrative positions abroad, but he
declined them.
His remembrances were never completed, nor published,
because of an accident. His headquarters in Memphis were in

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 321
the Bradley block. The building was filled from basement to
roof with army supplies, some of them, like barreled pork, very
heavy. The building had been weakened by taking out par
titions, and there were whispers that it was unsafe.
The colonel had but just left the building when it went
down in a crash that shook the city. The Bradley block was
simply a ruin.
All the colonel's manuscripts were lost. It was a great
pity. His book could not have failed to be most interesting.
His "Guarding Rebel Property" was translated into many lan
guages. A\rhile the colonel was in Memphis an inspector was sent
there from Washington to straighten out some irregularities,
but he never troubled Colonel Ferry. Years after the war the
inspector and the colonel met at an army reunion, when the
inspector said: "Colonel, do you know why I did not investi
gate your business in Memphis? On the back of my instruc
tions the department had written, 'Let Ferry alone. He's
straight.' "
AAmen the war was over the colonel with an honorable
discharge, returned home. Perhaps no returning soldier
ever had a more joyous home-coming than he. He went away
a private soldier; by his worth alone he had won his way
through all the grades to lieutenant-colonel ; the war had
brought out all that had been incomplete in his nature ; but
he returned as he had gone away, a Christian gentleman, and
Jeffersonian Democrat.
To receive him were wife and children, his aged, heroic
father, his brothers, one perhaps the brightest in the family.
the other soon to enter for several terms the United States-
senate, and his friends, which included most of the population
of Michigan. He remained there fifteen years, was tendered many high
offices and filled a few of them, notably all school offices, and
as a delegate helped to form a new Constitution for Michigan.
Then his mining interests called him to Utah. Four sons
and two daughters had been born to him ; the sons died when
children, but the daughters still remain, Mrs. Allen, with her

322 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
mother in Park City, Utah, and Mrs. George Hancock in Salt
Lake City.
In Utah he was quickly recognized as the masterful man
that he was. He became greatly attached to the state, espe
cially to his mountain home in Park City. Only one thing
disturbed him. He reached Utah just when the clashing be
tween the government and the Latter-day Saints was approach
ing a climax.
The colonel, a trained soldier, an American to whom his
country was all in all, could hardly contain himself in the situ
ation that existed. AAmen discussing it, he would sometimes
spring from his chair, and pace the floor, and his walk was that
of a tiger in captivity.
But he went about doing good and trusting in God. He
with his brother carried on a most complicated mining business
which finally, four or five years prior to his death, culminated
in a competency for him.
His home life was something beautiful to see. Some
three or four years prior to his death his eyes failed him, and
he became almost totally blind. Then his loved ones became
eyes to him. All that devotion and loving solicitude could
do was done for him. In the family devotions, he loved to
lead, with his fine tenor voice, in the singing, and his family
learned to guess his mood by the character of the hymns he
sang. He had long been feeble in health. His faltering heart
was his notice that his end was near.
In the winter of 1905 he was seized with an attack of
grippe, and on the 3rd of January, he sank into a quiet sleep
and awoke beyond the stars.
After impressive services at his home in Park City, his
body was taken to his old home in Grand Haven, and after
still more impressive obsequies, he was laid to rest in the beau
tiful cemetery there, the murmur of the waters of Lake Mich
igan being a lullaby to the sleeper.
At his death the Loyal Legion of the United States issued
a military order which was a noble eulogy of his life and

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 323
character. The press of Utah and Michigan gave him notices
which were all fine.
AVhat he had, what he was, he wrought out for himself.
He was gentle in his ways; he drew those near him to his
heart with hooks of steel ; his resolute soul never lost its perfect
poise ; he was sure that a clear brain and a healthy body were
sufficient capital for anyone. With these he began his battle
for a place among men, and won it ; won it, too, in a way that
carried no self-reproaches. Every day of his life he was
ready, if called upon, to make a full accounting.
AAAhen the war came, he hurried to the front. He re
mained there until the lips of the last cannon grew still. He
was in the forefront of that wonderful array of officers who
were the executives of those greater soldiers, Grant, Sherman,
Thomas, McPherson and Rosecrans.
The war did not change in the least the man, save to in
tensify his high character. He became as eminent in peace as
he was in war.
He was a Christian gentleman. In the world he never
feared aught except his God and the possibility of doing
wrong. He walked high-souled and self-respectful through life.
He believed in the omnipotence of labor and worked until his
eyes failed him. As his sight grew more and more dim, the
vision of the greater light of the beyond grew brighter and
brighter around him, and while the new year's greetings
were ringing joyously, the ligiit suddenly went out, and he
passed to the everlasting day.
When around his own fireside, the colonel would some
times, in a reminiscent mood, tell old war-time anecdotes. Two
or three are given below.
"A bunch of us officers were once during the war invited
to dinner at a private southern home. After dinner, to enter
tain us, the ladies of the house sang several songs with piano
accompaniment. Finally "Maryland, My Maryland" was sung,
and then a discussion arose about the origin of the tune, the
ladies and some of the gentlemen claiming that the tune, like
the words, were Southern. The colonel said they were mis-

324 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
taken about the tune, that it was an old hymn. When this was
contested, the colonel said : 'But I will prove it,' and nodding
to one of the officers, said, 'Lieutenant, play me the accom
paniment;' then, in his superb tenor voice he sang the hymn
through, which shut off further debate."
At one time the Army of the Tennessee was encamped
for a good while on both banks of the Tennessee River. It
was the habit of the bands of several regiments on Sundays
to play jolly music of every kind. This was a great distress
to the chaplains, and to all the religious men in the army. It
was most offensive to Colonel Ferry, and he went through the
army making personal appeals to the band masters. The next
Sabbath morning's dawn was most beautiful. The sky was
sapphire and a great hush was on the air. While many of the
soldiers were still asleep the clear notes of a bugle rang out on
the still summer air, a full regimental band playing softly an
accompaniment. The air played was, "Praise God from whom
all blessings flow."
As the music ceased there was a moment of absolute
silence ; then the band of another regiment with more power
took up and repeated the anthem.
Soldiers came out of the tents to listen. Very soon both
banks of the river were lined with listening men ; as one band
after another joined in the solemn but triumphal hymn.
The waters of the river seemed to be bearing along the
sacred melody; then human voices joined; then regiment after
regiment took up the strain, and soon every division of the
superb army, as with one acclaim, was singing. From that day
until the encampment was broken up, only sacred music was
played on Sunday.
The colonel went to Central and South America in
1888-89. Bishop Scanlan of Salt Lake tendered him letters of
introduction, which generally had the effect of a safe conduct
for him and his party. One Padre to whom one of his let
ters was presented, read it and then said : "I see you are
not of our faith, but I know of no reason why I should not
serve you. We are all traveling toward the same country."

COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 325
Generally the utmost kindness was extended,, but when
they reached the port of Pacasmazo, an officer stopped them
and took them before an alcalde. The colonel and his party
were in a hurry, and the colonel looked over the alcalde, went
near him and in a low voice said, "We are in a hurry, and I
have one hundred good reasons to show you why we should
not be detained."
"In that case," said the doughty magistrate, "it would be
better to come with me to my private office." The colonel went
and soon came out with a flowery passport to travel anywhere
within the jurisdiction of the court. I asked one of the com
pany what the reasons were, and he gave me to understand
they were Peruvian silver dollars.
The same member of the company — a Utah-born boy —
told me that when their little coast steamer entered the port of
Paita it was just about sundown. The whole company had
grown weary of the Spanish "jabber," none of them had seen
an American for months, but there, right before them, lay the
Trenton — which went to pieces on the rocks under the beatings
of the hurricane in Samoa harbor, the band playing as the ship
was sinking. The Trenton was a beautiful four-masted frigate,
and she was rising and falling on the swell as gracefully as a
swan. The marines had been drilling, the yards were alive
with men, the sun was aflame over the flag, and the band was
playing- a national air. With full heart I was watching the
scene, when Col. Ferry came on deck from below and caught
sight of the pageant. Off came his white hat. For five minutes
he waved it, shouting like a Comanche, jumping up and down,
and tears coursing down his face.
If, where the soul of the colonel has gone, the standard is
not the Stars and Stripes that soul will join the progressives
and demand a new deal.

COLONEL WILBUR F. SANDERS.
A MASTERFUL man was Colonel Sanders of Montana,
and perhaps for forty years did more to shape events in
that state than any other one man. When he reached
there in the early sixties the region was almost without law,
and desperate men were in control.
Colonel Sanders took his life in his hand and went about
to subdue the lawless and to establish order. The decent peo
ple rallied to his support and the transformation was made. To
do this it was necessary that a few of the worst of the ruffians
should be hanged, and that duty was cheerfully performed.
The transformation being made, the work of putting the re
gion in order for the coming of full enlightenment was begun,
and there has never been any break in its upward way since,
except for a brief time when ambitious men were fighting for
place by methods which were calculated to demoralize, rather
than uplift the people.
Through the forty or more years of Colonel Sanders' life
there, no one ever doubted his power or discounted his influ
ence. If he did not have all the honors that were his due, no
one was to blame but himself. His soul was as imperious as
ever was Cassar's, and his tongue was, perpetually firing
poisoned arrows. He was tall and large and swarthy, and
when excited his eyes were flames and like Job's war horse, his
"neck was clothed with thunder."
Nevertheless he was a most genial man, and while as
proud as Lucifer, he had not a trace of false pride. A finished
scholar and fine lawyer and with talents that made him well-
nigh invincible, clown deep his thought was that the highest
call in this world was that of duty, and that no man was so
poor or unfortunate that he was not entitled to justice.
He was not always right, but he always meant to be
right. There was no compromise with him. Everything must
be either right or it was all wrong, and when aught trenched
upon the right, with him there was nothing to be done but

COLONEL WILBUR F. SANDERS. 327
crush the wrong. As all men cannot see alike, this disposition
on his part made him enemies, but they all admitted that he
was a fair fighter. He was passionately fond of Montana.
He felt that the character of the magnificent state was in part
his work, and he was as jealous of the state's reputation as of
his own. He wanted every man within its borders to be
brave and every woman fair.
He was a wonderful speaker on the hustings, and there
his fashion was to discomfit his opponents with an irony at
which no offense could be taken, but which convulsed his hear
ers and annihilated opponents.
He was as loyal to his country as to his state, as jealous
of its honor, and its flag was to him the symbol of absolute
justice, truth and enlightened liberty.
AAmen Montana entered the Union he was one of its first
United States Senators, and served with great benefit to his
state, with great honor to himself. The east is prone to look
askance at senators from new states. In their eastern prov
incialism they assume as a matter of course that much that is
crude and not quite refined must be expected from such
sources. One glance at Wilbur F. Sanders was enough to un
deceive such people. He looked as high-born as a king, and
when he opened his mouth the shrewdest of them all sat up and
took notice.
A fatal malady kept him at home for several years prior
to his death, but he never for a moment lost interest in all
public matters and he worked at his profession to the very end.
Estimating men we often compare one with some other man of
national reputation. That cannot be done in Colonel Sanders'
case. In his bearing he was what Roscoe Conkling might have
been had he when a youth pushed out on the frontier for
half a dozen years. But I never knew any western man that
much resembled him. His was a type of manhood most rare.
I believe that what he coveted most in the world was the love
of his fellow-men, but not many could discern this unless
brought close to him. He would stoop to help up a poor man
who had fallen, but he would not have doffed his hat to Julius
Cassar unless Caesar had set him the example. His home was

328 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
a most happy one ; his grandchildren could work him in every
way they pleased, and his last word was one of endearment to
his wife. Could he have been given his health ten years longer, his
name would have been as familiar in the nation as it was and is
in Montana ; but his call came just when the fruition of his
hopes seemed to be taking form in a setting of glory before
him, and without a murmur he accepted his fate. On the day
of his funeral, a Montana paper said :
Men of Montana ! Bare your brows today,
Stand at salute before the open grave
That waits to gather to its arms the clay
Of him who was the bravest of your brave.
He was the most potential figure among the strong men of
his state. For years he was looked up to by a majority of
them as their uncrowned sovereign, and the saddest act of
their lives was to smooth his final couch, and to repeat above
him their all hails and farewells.

JOHN 0- PACKARD.
WHEN I knew him first Mr. Packard was a merchant
in Marysville, Cal, in 1852. He was born in New
York City, was trained and educated there in the cir
cle which later blossomed into "the Four Hundred." Before
I knew him personally I had seen him and noticed that he was
the best dressed man in the little city. His measure was doubt
less in New York, and he was not only dressed in perfect taste,
but in perfect taste every hour of the day. But the rains fell
and the floods came, and on Christmas day a part of the
city was under water, the other part deep in mud.
Still Christmas had to be celebrated, so a band of young
men — there were no old men there — gathered together and
engaged Seymour Pixley, who was six feet three in height
and slim, to play the fife, and little Grubb — I cannot recall his
given name, who was about five feet four in height, but tall
east and west, to play a bass drum; the whole company wore
high miners' rubber boots, and some other clothing. They
formed a procession, the fife and drum leading, and marched
from one saloon to another. When a saloon would treat the
whole bunch, they would give it three resounding cheers. When
a saloon declined to be generous it received three sepulchral
groans, and this continued from 10 a. m. to 4 p. m.
And Packard was the grand marshal of the procession.
The next morning he was clothed in his habitual perfect
attire, and was in his right mind. Moreover he looked fresh
and ruddy as a bridegroom.
Later I got to know him intimately and early formed an
idea that he was a man who went into confessional with his
conscience every day, and balanced his books by it every
night. But he never stopped to question his conscience as to its
own status; never took time to remember that the compass
of a ship may seem to be perfectly adjusted, and still some
thing in the ship itself may cause it to vary, so when the
22

330 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
ship's course is set by it, all unexpectedly it goes smashing
into the breakers.
There was a little variation of this kind in the compass
of Mr. Packard's soul, so he was at times a trifle eccentric,
and had collisions which were a surprise to himself.
He was wonderfully wrought up when the Coxie army
started on its march. He had never relied upon anyone save
himself and could not comprehend how any healthy man should
directly or indirectly beg in a land like ours.
For a long time he had been noiselessly contributing to
maintain a certain church in Salt Lake City. No one. knew it
but the pastor of the church. As the army neared Salt Lake,
just as Packard was most furious about it, he met this pastor
on the street, who greeted him with, "Oh, Mr. Packard, what
can we do for these poor men ? Where can they go ?"
At the top of his voice Packard shouted : "Let them go
to h — 1 !" And strode on leaving the good pastor paralyzed
with astonishment.
Mr. Packard made a fortune in Marysville and removed
to the east.
At the close of the war he went South and bought two
plantations, one in Mississippi, the other just over the line in
Louisiana, and started to raise cotton.
Soon after his going there news came that the cholera
had reached America and was devastating the eastern cities.
Packard took the first boat for New Orleans, consulted an
eminent physician as to the most approved treatment then
known for cholera, bought a great chest of medicines, and with
it returned home. It was not long until the disease began its
march through the south, and one afternoon a man came by
Packard's house and said a negro on a neighboring plantation
had been stricken. Mr. Packard, with holsters filled with
medicine, mounted a horse and hurried to the sick man's side.
For several days he was physician to all who were seized by
the pestilence until he finally came down with it himself. He
went through all its stages until he lost consciousness in a col
lapse. He came to himself the next morning and asked his
foreman what had been done to pull him through. The honest

JOHN Q. PACKARD. 331
man replied : "The case was desperate, Mr. Packard, so I
doubled the doses on you."
But cotton was low, and the atmosphere of Mississippi and
Louisiana just after the war was not congenial toward north
ern men, even northern Democrats like Packard. So Mr.
Packard sold out, or more correctly, abandoned his home there,
and started for California.
But reaching Salt Lake he was attracted by the reports of
the Eureka mine in Tintic district, and bought the control of
it. He had practically no knowledge of quartz mining, but
he had exhaustless pluck and industry; he made a great mine
of his purchase, and a great deal of money; later opened
the Gemini and made more until his fortune mounted up into
the millions. He built the fine school building at Eureka, the beautiful
library in Salt Lake and another in Marysville, where he made
his first fortune. His home for twenty years was in Salt Lake.
In all that time he sought no honors for himself ; comparatively
few people knew him; he never had any family, but during
the last ten years of his residence there, with the beginning of
every month more than one family received a check from him
which was equal to the family's needs. He removed to Santa
Cruz, California, about 1900, and engaged in business there,
pursuing it with all his old-time energy until at about eighty-
five years of age his summons came. He was one of the very
strong men of the West.

COLONEL A. C. ELLIS.
BORN in Kentucky, a University and Law School grad
uate, he was district attorney in St. Louis when the
war came on. He joined the Confederate army and
fought until the Confederate arm was broken in Missouri ;
then made his way across the plains and settled in Carson City.
Almost at once he took his place in the ranks of finished law
yers. Later he was nominated for governpr, but was defeated
because in those days Nevada was strongly Republican. After
practicing his profession for ten years, he removed to San
Francisco, where he pursued his profession for ten years more,
always up in the front rank among lawyers. Removing to
Salt Lake City, for twenty years he maintained his place
among the leaders of his profession until his health failed. He
died in March, 1912.
His great charm was the high manhood that always was
his. His great and varied scholarship and superb conversa
tional powers with his ever-sanguine temperament made him
delightful company everywhere. But for the war he would in
ten years more have secured for himself any desired position
in Missouri. As it was he was one of the thousands of young
men in the south whose hopes were shattered by the war, and
whose after lives were always shadowed by the thought of
what might have been. He was always genial and kindly; he
tried his utmost to conceal the scars of the wounds his soul had
received ; but they were manifest enough to close observers.
A tree blasted by a thunderbolt often puts out new
branches, and with every spring tries to hide its scars under
green leaves ; but it is never quite the same tree, no matter how
bravely it meets the tempests; how uncomplainingly it bears
its ancient wounds.

RICHARD MACKINTOSH.
THE tears dim my eyes as I look back and remember
Richard Mackintosh, as he was wont to come out of
his house in the morning and with a voice cheery as
a lark, as cordial as the robin, hail the day.
He lived many years in Salt Lake City. Those who
knew him well loved him exceedingly. He was born in Dub
lin, Ireland. His father was a distinguished officer in the
British army, a captain in the famous Ninety-third Highlanders.
Fie was one of the Mackintosh clan, who, on that day of days
at AAraterloo, followed the pibrochs through all the long hours
until Blucher came and the exhausted English army fell on the
ground to sleep.
After the war, every year, so long as Wellington lived,
on leave of absence that father left his command and went up to
a banquet given by his grace, the Iron Duke, and the titles
he won, the decorations he wore, are a glory to the Mackintosh
family in any land where they dwell.
After AAraterloo the father of our Mackintosh was sta
tioned in Dublin with his regiment. There he fell in love with
a bonny Irish girl and married her, and there Richard Mack
intosh was born, only a few steps from Phoenix Park. And
so in his nature he had much of the canny Scot of his father,
much of the splendor and joyousness of his Irish mother. And
as such we knew him.
He was originally intended to succeed his father in the
army, but for a slight physical defect he was not accepted,
and we do not believe it is any harm to state what that defect
was. One side of Mr. Mackintosh was a little smaller than the
other. His arm was smaller, his foot was a little smaller, and
the laws of England in their crude way assumed that this was
a defect, when in truth one side was just as strong as the other,
and he was fashioned like the one-horse shay — "every part as
strong as the rest."
What I write about Mr. Mackintosh i,s simply from my

334 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
own memory, and if other people who knew him do not agree
with all I say, I will hold the belief to my soul that they did
not know him as well as I did. I knew him only as a frank,
splendid, high-souled, thorough man, and thorough American,
and a friend that was more sacred than all the jewels of Arabia.
all the professions of professed friends in all the world. He
was a good friend, and whenever I wanted a joyous word, a
note of defiance at fate, a lark's song to awaken me from the
cares that were upon me, I always turned instinctively to
Dick Mackintosh.
So he plodded his way. When he lost money he made no
plaint ; when he made money his voice was all the higher, his
cheer all the greater, his disposition to do somebody a favor all
the more increased.
In the queen's diamond jubilee year he went to England
and attended the fete. AAmen he returned he was telling about
what he saw in his joyous, boisterous way, and especially
about the fleet that was anchored off Spithead, when miles and
miles of guns roared out their welcome to the queen. I asked
him how the Brooklyn looked in that outfit, because our gov
ernment had sent the Brooklyn over there in honor of the
queen to represent the American navy. AVith almost a shout
he said : "She was splendid. She lifted her crest up among
those blasted English ships with the flag above her as much as
to say, 'Look here, Mr. Englishman, we are here in state. AA^e
like your old queen, but we would fight just as quickly as any
one of your black devils down the line.' "
To the end of his days he was a true Britisher, but after
he had been a little while in America he would have fought any
Englishman on earth if he had made a face at the American
Flag. He was one of the Comstock boys. He got to the Com
stock when he was but little more than a boy. He made the
long trip around the Horn and he had several fights on board
ship. The last one was in behalf of a little girl that he declared
was the prettiest girl in the world, at the time, adding, "That
was before I was married."
He got to the Comstock when it was a great school for

RICHARD MACKINTOSH. 335
all Britishers. He learned how to deal in stocks and that be
came a habit with him. He clung to it all his life. He removed
to Salt Lake. He was prominent in mining for many and
many a year. Fie made good, but he was more prominent as
a citizen, as a neighbor and a friend through all those years,
and he wound his heart-strings around the heart-strings of
others until when it came time that they should be torn apart,
it made a new wound which never has been healed in those
who remain.
He was called before his time — just in the pride of his
splendid manhood. Flis own home had been desolated by the
death of his wife, and after that he drooped and drooped and
what of the old jollity came back at intervals was but a forced
attempt not to make his sorrows a sorrow to others. He
failed for a year and then died, and when he passed away it
was a solemn joy to say about him that he was the truest
friend, the kindest-hearted, strongest man, the bravest cham
pion of what he thought was right, the best neighbor, that any
one ever knew and that thought still remains. All that was
really fine in manhood was his and if he lacked aught in the
manifestation of his real nature, that was a misfortune, be
cause the nearer one got to Richard Mackintosh the more they
esteemed and loved him. He was a brave man, of that stock
of men who held it was nothing to die for one's country or for
one's honor; that germ was always working in his own mind;
and if he made any mistakes it was because for the moment
he was deceived, for deep in his mind he was one of the finest
examples of absolute loyalty and high courage of all the men
who in the old days helped to make of Utah a glorified Amer
ican state.

WILLIAM S. GODBE.
BORN in England, he visited half the world's ports as a
youthful sailor, with a student's eagerness to revive
the histories and to study the modern conditions of the
people. Returning to his native land, he heard a new gospel
expounded, investigated it and believed it was a new materiali
zation of what the Master taught.
He worked his way across the Atlantic and traversed the
continent mostly on foot to Salt Lake City, believing that there
the regeneration of mankind was to begin.
AVith the enthusiasm of an earnest youth he began his
work ; intense in his religion ; intense and untiring in his labor,
and worked on and on until the whole territory recognized his
masterful abilities, his business acumen and lovable nature;
and he became a favorite from the highest chiefs of the new
creed down to the lowliest toiler, until he was looked to every
where as a support, from the inauguration of a great enterprise
to the founding of a little frontier church.
But all the time he was studying ; all the time was asking
himself which way Duty led ?
Every night he went into confessional with his own con
science, until through weighing what was being said and done,
the conviction came to him that while religion implied sincere
service to God, still all men should be free to do any legiti
mate thing.
Indeed this had been transmitted through the blood of
his ancestors since before that June day in 1215 when the
great charter was wrenched from a sullen and vindictive Eng
lish king. So, when fully convinced, he declared himself. This
brought to him a summons to show cause why he should not be
excommunicated. He responded; proclaimed his love of God and of his fel
low-men, and cited the record of his own life to prove his sin-

WILLIAM S. GODBE. 337
cerity and truth, and defended what he was doing as right in
the eyes of God and enlightened men.
He was expelled, but that did not change his high nature.
For awhile old friends passed him coldly by, which grieved
him, but awakened within him no vindictiveness. Neither
did it change his purpose.
His fortune was shattered, and he was repudiated in
places where he had been so much esteemed. ITe turned to the
solemn mountains for sympathy and support, and thence for
thirty years opened mines and roads ; built mills and furnaces :
toiling without rest, but keeping his heart open to any cry of
distress; bearing no malice toward men; but to the last pro
claiming the love of God and the brotherhood of man; his
path lined everywhere with charities and good deeds, until he
'finally died, literally in the harness of labor.
He was a man who believed he was created in the image
of God : that nothing from him must mar that image ; so he
toiled on, his soul shining out more and more until when the
tabernacle that held it fell away, and it took its flight, it was
reflected back, high and brave and true and white as a planet's
light.

GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOWELL McCOOK.
HE WAS one of the fighting McCook family. His
father and brothers, six of them, if I remember rightly,
died in the war from wounds or disease. His brother
Anson was shot in Mississippi by guerrillas, while, badly
wounded, he was being conveyed in an ambulance across the
country. General Alex. McCook always held Anson as the
great man of the family. They were indeed a fighting family.
The old father, past seventy years of age, was killed in trying
to repel Morgan's raid.
This special family were all Ohio men, and often in the
late hours of a banquet General Alexander McDowell McCook
would assure his fellow banqueters that he, personally, was
the d — t best Presbyterian that ever came from "Yaller"
Creek. He was a West Point graduate, and when the war
came he was assigned, a general of volunteers, to Gen. Don
Carlos Buell's army, commanding his right wing. As is well
known, a part of General Buell's army reached the battlefield of
Pittsburg Landing at dusk after the first day's tremendous
battle. It was there that General Buell said to General Grant :
"Did you not take too big a risk, General ? A big river in your
rear, an army of unknown strength in your front, and in case
you were defeated only two little gunboats to carry your army
across the river? Why you could not have crossed more than
40,000 men on those boats."
And Grant replied : "They would have been ample to
cross all that would have wanted to cross in case I had been
defeated." The regulars of Buell's army joined Grant's army on the
second clay's stubborn battle, which lasted until 4 p. m., before
Beaureguard's army was finally routed. McCook's corps
reached the field about the time the final retreat began, and
General Sherman wanted McCook to pursue the enemy, but
McCook pleaded the fatigue of his men. General Sherman
never quiate forgave McCook for this. Shiloh was a real

GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOWELL McCOOK. 339
punctuation point in the war. Had General Albert Sidney
Johnston lived four hours longer, what might have been ? ?
Had Grant who was after that battle practically retired,
well-nigh dismissed, indeed, never been restored, what might
have been ?
Had the attack been made a day sooner, when Buell was
too far away to help, what might have been? Surely "God
moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform."
General McCook, with his single corps, fought and won
the battle of Perryville. General Buell, with the main army,
was three miles away. The battle began about 1 p. m., the
object of the Federals being to hold possession of a stream, of
the Confederates to gain possession of it. The battle lasted
two hours, and the fighting was most sanguinary, but not a
sound of it was heard by the main army only three miles away.
AAmen a messenger finally reached General Buell, he hurried
to the scene, received from General McCook's lips an account
of what he had done, at which General Buell warmly praised
him for his splendid generalship.
When the command went to General Rosecrans, General
McCook retained his corps and took part in the furious battle
of Stone River. At Chickamauga the corps was rolled back,
as was the entire army, except the corps of General George
H. Thomas, "the Rock of Chickamauga," by the fierce onsets
of Bragg's army.
After Chickamauga McCook was detailed on official busi
ness in Washington, where he remained for more than a year.
McCook was in command five years at Fort Douglas, in
Utah. Fie was a most thorough soldier, the most genial of
men except when the authority of the United States was
doubted ; then the soldier was at the front in a moment. And
he had some eccentricities. It was the custom in the summer
for the regimental band to give public concerts every afternoon,
and it became a habit for people of the city to drive up to the
post to listen to the music. Some distinguished ladies and
gentlemen from the East were present one afternoon, and were
presented to the general. One of the ladies praised the perform
ance of the band warmly and expressed the hope that it would

340 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
play a certain piece of music which she named. The general
at once sent word to the band-master to play the piece. He left
his place, went to where the general was and explained that
the music desired was unusual and difficult of performance,
and further that he had no copies of the music. The general
ordered him to the guard-house for not having the music,
but finally rescinded the order upon the lady's earnest solicita
tion in behalf of the unfortunate musician.
The general was wont to give receptions at the post, and
many a Salt Laker remembers those receptions with much
pleasure. The general and his officers, always in full uniform,
received the guests who were royally entertained. McCook's
punches still have a local reputation and name in Salt Lake
City. His domestic affections absorbed his life. His first wife
died soon after he reached Salt Lake. The foremost ladies of
the city gathered at the hotel where she died and tendered
their services, but he put them all gently aside, and would not
permit one of them to even see his wife's dead face until he,
unaided, had prepared and dressed her body for the grave.
Before he left Utah he married a second wife, a most
brilliant and accomplished lady. He was ordered to the com
mand of the Department of the Platte, with headquarters at
Denver, Colorado, and remained there until retired through the
age limit. While stationed in Denver a Salt Lake friend went there
to attend a three or four days' convention. He reached there
after nightfall, and stopped at a hotel. The next morning as he
went down to the office, the General, with an orderly, was in
waiting. After the greetings were over he asked for the key
to the friend's room, which he had in his hand : took it, looked
at the number, and extending the key to the orderly said:
"Go to parlor  , get all the baggage that there is and any
other little thing that you see, and take it to my rooms."
Then turning to the friend, he said : "I want you ; come
along." They drove to the hotel where he was living, went straight
to the elevator and up to his rooms. Opening the door he

GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOWELL McCOOK. 341
shoved the friend in and said : "My wife is back in Wisconsin
visiting her mother. You shall have her bed. It is the finest
bed in Denver, and now come here." He led the friend to
a desk and opening it, said : "There are half a dozen boxes of
the finest brands of cigars this side of Havana. And now
come here until I show you the "Fodder Stack." And open
ing a cabinet he displayed some ominous-looking bottles of
various colors. "Now," said he, " I am going to watch you;
and if you spend a cent while in Denver, I will have you court-
martialed." Every morning he would prepare the bath, and then, as
though talking to a reluctant boy, would say:
"Come. No growling this morning. Jump up and have
your bath. You have no idea how much better you will feel to
have a hot bath and a cold shower. This cold water comes
right out of the snow, and you will see it will feel just as ice
cream tastes."
When the Spanish war came he grieved exceedingly, and
said : "I am retired for age, and that is right, but I was never
better physically or mentally, and I do know better than some
younger men how to take care of soldiers in camp and field."
A little later he was in Ohio visiting friends, when he was
seized with apoplexy, and in a few hours his soul went to
join his old comrades of the Army of the Cumberland, the
Army of the Tennessee — all the royal souls that when the life
of the nation was at stake interposed their breasts between their
country and their country's foes.

E. H. HARRIMAN.
MY acquaintance with Mr. Harriman was limited to a
few meetings in social gatherings where little save
polite nothings were spoken. Hence there is nothing
before me save his personal appearance and the impression his
work made.
He was small of stature with a kindly but shrewd face;
but as one looked at him and heard him greeting the people
around him, he carried the impression that even in that moment
grades and curves and other difficulties were being overcome
in his mind and possibly purposes were taking form.
With him such meetings were put down merely as a gen
eral might receive a flag of truce — they had no bearing upon
the plans of his campaign.
He had many of the elements of a great soldier. He
knew when to mass his forces around a base; he knew when
to break away from his base, divide his command; how to
make rapid marches and when to concentrate at a given point,
which necessarily included a knowledge of what was opposing
him and how, if at all, it would seek to intercept his march.
To me his face showed a fixity of purpose which, when
reached, it would be almost impossible to turn aside, and a
silent patience which would hold a post until the garrison
starved. But he kept masked that other something which may be
termed a subtle sagacity which must have been lighted by an
artist's imagination, which enabled him to see instantly that a
transformation was due and then in his mind picture what that
transformation would bring.
The old Central Pacific Railroad Company always treated
the region between Reno and Ogden as worthless, and the
road across it merely as a bridge, over which the through
business was to pass, the freights and fares on which must not
only cover the cost and profits, but in addition must meet the
expenses of operating the whole line.

E. IT. HARRIMAN. 343
Then, too, its object seemed to be to subordinate all busi
ness to the building up of San Francisco.
The Union Pacific Company seemed impressed by a like
idea except, with it, the thought apparently was to minister
to Omaha. Neither company ever realized the wealth of
the empire it possessed, and neither ever handled its road
as a common carrier.
The result was that when the bonds finally fell due they
gave up their property, which they had permitted to depreciate
in value until it consisted of little more than a streak of rusty
steel and a right-of-way.
Then Mr. Harriman appeared upon the scene. He seemed
to take in at a glance the resources along the route of roads,
seemed to hear "the first low wash of waves where soon would
roll a human sea ;" seemed to note what was being done in the
mines, and what mines, especially base metal mines, were to
transportation companies who had their patronage ; to see the
wonders wrought when the desert was touched with moisture.
He rightly estimated that the great Central route ter
minating on the Bay of San Francisco must always be of vast
concernment to the world; just as readily and swiftly he rea
soned that the road to be effective must be placed in as perfect
a condition as possible; that unnecessary grades and curves
must be eliminated, knowing that speed and safety must always
be chief factors in operating railroads.
It may be said that any business man would have reasoned
the same way, yet some very shrewd men on both ends of the
line had possessed the road for thirty years and had not rea
soned that way, but apparently had thought that the true theory
was to exact everything possible from the road and its patrons
and to do as little as possible for the road.
That Mr. Harriman reached his conclusions quickly was
clear enough by what he did, but that his conclusions, once
formed, were fixed with him was made evident some years later
when, in a trial in court, the fact was brought out that on his
first coming West he began to purchase and put away the stock
of the roads, sure that after awhile they would advance in value.
We think it would be impossible to find a parallel to his work

344 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
in recreating the old Central and Union Pacific and the Oregon
Short Line roads.
AVhat Mr. Harriman did for the roads along their
entire length resulted in making certain for all time that San
Francisco was to be the foremost city on the west coast of the
United States. The old companies worked for a special object,
Mr. Flarriman for an absolute result.
As he did not fail to grasp the wealth of the desert, neither
did he fail to realize what California would be when eastern
methods were adopted on her lands. An empire as great in
area as all New England, New York and New Jersey com
bined, with soft climate and marvelous soil, up to his day pen
etrated by only two railroads, and defended by a mighty ram
part of mountains.
He noted that the east was occupied; that in addition to
the natural increase of the people, half a million foreigners
were pouring into the country annually, and that they must
have employment ; that failing to find it east, they must go west.
So he improved his roads and built additions and with serene
trust that in the end both his judgment would be vindicated,
and the money expended would be returned. His methods of
overcoming physical obstructions were seen in the building of
the Lucin Cutoff and the driving back of the Colorado within
her banks. In the early clays of the construction of the Panama canal,
when the difficulties of the undertaking were being much dis
cussed, the magnitude of the work was referred to in Mr.
Harriman's presence, when he said : "If such an obstruction
should come in the path of a well-organized railroad company,
there would be no noise made about it; the company would
just go to work and overcome it."
His ability to command needed funds to carry on his work
is a theme for financiers to discuss. The public only saw that
when they were needed they were forthcoming, and that all
his promises were made good. He was a general in marshal
ing both his forces and his finances ; he was a statesman in
foreseeing the effects that would follow certain causes, and

E. H. HARRIMAN. 345
there was a poet's rhythm in the harmony of his work from
inception to conclusion.
He had, too, the faculty of drawing men to him. All his
lieutenants were devoted to him.
He sprang into the arena pitted against financial gladiators
and industrial kings ; he was unknown to the financial world ;
in a few brief years his summons came to give up his work,
but in those few years he accomplished more than any other
man ever did along the same lines in a period so brief.
Contemplating his work one wonders what would have
been could he have retained his strength for another decade.
A A hat he really accomplished was but preliminary work. AVho
can estimate what achievement he held in contemplation ?
His name will outlive all the friction of the future. It
still clings to the roads he manipulated ; they continue to be
"The Harriman" roads ; indeed his name was one to conjure
by and his work seemed to be ever smiled upon by that angel
called Success.

23

HON. O. J. SALISBURY.
MR. SALISBURY was born and educated on the shore
of Lake Erie in New York, a few miles from Buffalo.
He was early tossed on the frontier, and was first
known in the west as a contractor on the Union Pacific road
when that road was under construction.
When the Star Route Stage company was organized by
his brother Monroe and J. T. Gilmer, he was the office partner
and had the direction of the details of the company. It was
he who had to see that the stages ran on time, that the stock
had to be at the right place at the right moment, that the horses
were fed and the drivers fed and paid. This he had the adminis
trative ability to perform apparently without effort, though he
was carrying in his mind day and night the whole machinery
of the business, which was extended over half a dozen states.
His work was that of a commander who handles the details of
half a dozen armies, and on him rested the responsibility of
making no mistakes.
He was stationed for a time at Deadwood; there with
clear judgment he secured mining interests which are still pay
ing steady dividends ; and when the staging was crowded out
by the encroaching locomotive, he went to Bayhorse, Idaho,
securing the great mine there. Without much previous knowl
edge in the reduction of rebellious ores, he built smelters and in
two years made another fortune.
AAdiat that means no one who has not been through a
like ordeal and won out knows.
The vigilance required, the details to be anticipated and
provided for ; the ground to be studied and its faults met ; the
reserve strength needed to work when other tired men are
asleep ; the patience and the nerve to wear a smiling face before
employees when the burden reaches almost to the breaking
point; to meet and oust all the guards which nature has sta
tioned to conceal and hold her treasures, until the very moun
tains are melted into obedience and the stars above smile ap-

HON. O. J. SALISBURY. 347
proval ; then to find and conquer the rebellious elements which
are hidden in the ores ; to do these things when a hundred miles
from any transportation save the crudest, and to do them in a
way that will leave a profit, are problems that a thousand men
have failed to solve to every one man who has succeeded.
Mr. Salisbury had the business training to meet this, but
the more difficult part he was obliged to learn while the work
and its inexorable demands were in progress. He succeeded ; and
while it was going on an insidious disease was preying upon his
vitality in a form which the physicians could not arrest, and
which in a few months would have killed him, except that the
accidental coming of a great specialist from abroad and
who was taken to see Mr. Salisbury by his local physician,
saved his life. This specialist, after a long practice in a great
foreign city had never seen but one similar case. The resolu
tion which under such a weight bore up Mr. Salisbury until he
made the great business a success, showed the nerve that car
ried on that fight.
He bought a home in Salt Lake City in the eighties and
lived all the rest of his life there. He was active in politics
from the first ; he did more to build up his party than perhaps
any other man. He was long national committeeman and as
such perfected the organization of his party, and by the will
of his party would have been elected United States senator,
had not a fatal illness come upon him.
In private life he was a quiet but most genial gentleman ;
in his home a most devoted husband and father and as winsome
a host as ever received a friend under his roof.
He had great plans for Utah when his honorable ambition
should be gratified, but it was not to be.
His summons came too early, and the great grief is that
when his friends sorrowingly laid him at rest, not one in a
hundred of them had any comprehension of how strong and
true and high-souled was the man they were saying their
farewells to.

HON. GEORGE W. CASSIDY.
A GREAT George was he. In the late fifties he ap
peared in Dutch Flat, California, fresh from Missouri,
then little more than a boy. But like the others from
his state, he wanted to be shown. He became a reporter on
a little newspaper there, and soon made a name. He was an
inspiration to the people there to raise the funds to enable T. P.
Judah to make his preliminary surveys for a railroad over the
Sierras. He drifted early to Nevada and found a broader field for
his local pen. Shorthand writing was not known then in news
paper work, but Cassidy was a wonder as a reporter. He
could sit through a long speech and then write it up for next
morning's paper in better form than it was generally de
livered. He showed me one of these speeches as he had re
ported it, remarking: "I believe I have improved that old
duffer's speech."
I suggested that he may have had an advantage that pos
sibly the speaker might have been handicapped by conscientious
scruples, to which he replied that if that had any weight it
would be hard to improve any of my speeches.
He was chaffing with a friend one day when he cried out :
"Oh, let up. If you keep going I shall lose my reputation."
To which the friend responded : "If you could it would be the
making of you." To this he said : "Maybe it would," sat down
and laughed until the tears ran clown his cheeks.
He worked on the Virginia City papers, growing intellec
tually constantly ; went from there to White Pine, when the
Eberhearst mine was found, and after a couple of years estab
lished the Sentinel at Eureka, Nevada.
He was soon elected to the- legislature and served with
honor several terms, growing to be a first-class debater. Then
an appreciative constituency sent him for two terms to Con
gress and he held his own there and did much for his state.

FION. GEORGE AV. CASSIDY. 349
He was given the position of bank inspector, and served
with great credit in the office for several years.
While making a speech at a state convention in Reno
he was seized with heart failure and in half an hour was
dead. ITe died in the prime of life, but he knew every man in
Nevada ; he was a poor man but always had a dollar for an
impecunious fellow citizen and excused himself for being
caught so often by explaining- that it was cheaper to give up a
dollar than to wait to hear a tale of woe, and then would add :
"And maybe the poor, devil really needed it."
He made a name from nothing and grew intellectually
from the day he landed in California to the day he died, and
counted confidently on the belief that the highest was yet to
come to him.
He was a mighty worker, no one ever saw him in bad
humor for more than a minute at a time ; he was the most genial
man that ever looked misfortune in the face and laughed it
to scorn ; he was one of the most genial of men and his death
was too soon by a quarter of a century.

COLONEL GEORGE L. SHOUP.
ONE of the manliest of men was Senator George L.
Shoup. He was a natural captain of industry; a far-
seeing business man and a manager of men. But he
was early tossed upon the frontier; then came the war of the
rebellion. He at once raised a regiment and with it was ap
pointed to take care of the restless white men and the untamed
savages of Colorado and New Mexico. He soon established
the fact that he was of right the leader of those he commanded,
for he was always to the front when a fight was on, and gained
the reputation of being always in the right place and doing the
right thing at the right time.
When the war was over, accounts of rich gold discoveries
drew him to Idaho. At that time Idaho was almost an abso
lute wilderness. He located up on the Salmon River and around him grew
up Salmon City. There he lived with his trading post and
farm, but the personality of the man asserted itself and for
all that region he may be said to have established public
opinion. He helped to frame the territorial government, was the
first governor and always a directing force in that government,
and when the territory took on the dignity of statehood, while
there were doubts who would be the second senator, there was
no doubt who would be the first, for George L. Shoup was the
choice of his party and those opposed to him politically con
ceded his great worth.
He served twelve years in the senate. He carried his level
head to the senate, and the scholars quickly realized that his
judgment on all practical questions was clear and strong, and
the manliness of the man made him welcome on both sides of
the august chamber.
Every interest of the west found him a guardian, and still
his patriotism was bound by neither state nor section lines ; he

COL. GEORGE L. SHOUP. 351
wanted every foot of soil under the flag dedicated to freedom
and every man and woman and child happy and prosperous.
He nursed no animosities as he clung to his own opinions,
he judged his own heart, and conceded that every other man
was as free as himself and had the same rights.
He was shrewd in business, but there was never a cry of
distress that he did not at once respond to; he was the most
hospitable of men and the magnitude of his unostentatious
charities grew faster than his fortune.
Never was there a more genial man, and he had very
much such a nature as Iole gives to Flercules, "he did not
wait for a contest, he conquered whether he stood or walked,
or sat, or whatever thing he did," and the impression he gave
was that "he was appointed by Almighty God to stand for a
fact." If he lacked some refinements, still the solemn mountains,
the irresponsive desert, the hardships, the privations, the dan
gers, had made their marks upon him and he had the refine
ment of a chastened brave man, which caused many a more
cultured man to realize that God gave heroic and generous
attributes to some natures long before there were schools and
books in the world, and such men find their places by natural
selection. He helped lay the foundations of two states. He helped
to make Idaho the great state it is, to shape the character
of her people ; he long represented them with honor in the
senate of the United States; before that he had been proved
a wise and sagacious governor, and for all time the men of
Idaho should hold his memory sacred, for he helped first to
redeem that soil from barbarism, then to see that the founda
tion of the state were rightly laid and for a long period in the
senate through his own lofty character gave distinction to the
state he represented.
His grave is a hallowed spot in the soil of the state he
helped to create, and should be kept dressed with flowers always
by a grateful people; dressed in flowers and looked upon as a
shrine.

HARVEY W. SCOTT.
HARVEY SCOTT was born in Oregon when Oregon
had not emerged from pioneer and frontier conditions.
He came of that heroic stock which in the early
forties in the central Mississippi valley gathered together a few
belongings and with ox-teams turned their faces to the west
and never rested until the awful march of twenty-five hun
dred miles was completed. They found where rolls the Ore
gon and planted the first stakes of civilization beside the Willa
mette. I know of no other achievement in history to compare
with that. The retreat of Xenophon has been ringing down
the stairs of history for three and twenty centuries, and it was
a great exploit, but his march was not so long as was that of
the Oregon pioneers ; then his command was made up of trained
fighting men and while he had much fighting to do, it all was
against inferior races that with inferior weapons could not
stand before the trained veteran Greeks, while all the way food
was plentiful. But the Oregon pioneers blazed a trail for quite two thou
sand miles of their journey, and half of that was through a des
ert, so bare that it must have seemed to them a region from
which the smile of God had forever been withdrawn.
Harvey Scott was from birth endowed with the impres
sion made upon his parents in that march. He was a kindly
man and could be most genial, but left alone or in uncon
genial company he was wont to lapse into silence and his face
took on what might be called a long-distance look, such as his
mother might have worn when trying to catch a glimpse of a
land of grass and flowers and trees beyond the desert that en
compassed her.
He early found a newspaper office, and began to write.
It was not long until he became an editor and then for forty
years he pursued that work, with a patience that was sublime,
with ever-increasing power and with more and more solici
tude for the glory of Oregon and the welfare of her people.

FIARVEY W. SCOTT. 353
His environments were narrow at first ; thev were bounded
by the boundary lines of his state; they expanded until they
took in his country and the whole world beyond. He began
when schools were scattered and poor in Oregon; from the
first his journal presented a course of study for the state; to
the end he was the state's great schoolmaster. Born with a
thought that everything must be either right or wrong, at
first some unconscious prejudices took form under his hand;
these, as experience and a broader vision came to him, began
to be eliminated until his sense of duty to his readers, coupled
with his incorruptible integrity, finally assumed full sway.
Then his journal, the Oregonian, took on its full power and
did more to shape public opinion in Oregon and to lift up the
minds of her people than any other one cause.
His journal that, at first was but a little red schoolhouse
by the roadside expanded until to his people it became a mighty
school of enlightenment and patriotism, a daily university
course in integrity and wisdom.
I never think of the battleship Oregon that I do not think
of Harvey Scott. On an urgent call the ship rounded a con
tinent in unparalleled swift time, without resting took its place
in the battle line, and when the supreme call came, rushed in
vincibly into the very vortex of that storm and never slackened
its speed, never faltered in power until the last opponent was a
shattered wreck.
If inanimate objects ever take on character, the battle
ship drew its character from Harvey Scott.
Oregon will never appreciate what it owes him. That his
final summons came while he was yet in possession of all his
faculties and all his power, has been a grief to thousands, but
for the sake of his memory and his fame maybe it was best,
for surely it is better to see a great ship go clown in the hour of
victory with flags flying and victorious trumpets calling, than
to watch it growing weaker and weaker until, dismantled, it
becomes a target for envious guns.

SENATOR WOLCOTT.
THE stormy life of Senator Ed. Wolcott of Colorado wore
itself out before its time. Gifted beyond his fellows,
handsome, winsome, impulsive, impetuous, imperious,
reckless, undisciplined, a born leader, a born fighter, subtle as
a serpent, eloquent, high-bred as a Greek master, implacable
toward enemies, enchanting to friends, magnetic, audacious, at
home with Bacchus when in the mood, but ready to look Thor
full in the face and challenge him to bring out his biggest
hammer and try conclusions with him. A natural aristocrat
by virtue of his lineage, his learning, his family's place in the
nation's history and his own masterful abilities, but still a gen
uine American to the last drop of his blue blood, and especially
reverential of the fact that when it comes to a question of coun
try and the direction of events all Americans stand on the same
plane, all have a right to a hearing and the more especially
that the aristocracy of a republic must rest on brain and heart
alone. So, many sided, followed by troops of friends, winning
manifold honors; always shadowed by bitter enemies, for
twenty years he was more the concernment of the men of Col
orado than any other man — his comings and his goings among
them were like those of Mercury to and from Olympus — "to
witch the world."
But he suffered one disappointment which half embittered
his life. President McKinley sent him as head of a commis
sion to try to effect an international agreement to remonetize
silver. France joyfully received him. An agreement was
reached, then the premier of France accompanied him to Lon
don. Then Bond street and AVall street raised a protest and
just at the crisis, Lyman Gage, then secretary of the treasury,
cabled to London that the United States did not want remon-
etization. That betrayal destroyed all chances to succeed, and
ever after as Senator Wolcott thought what his success then
would have been to Colorado, to the United States, to the

SENATOR WOLCOTT. 355
world and to his own fame, he was outraged and comfortless.
He is still passionately mourned in that state by those who
loved him; even his enemies feel as did Earl Douglas when his
passions cooled, and he said : "Bold can he speak and fairly
ride." He died young, comparatively, while yet when his intellec
tual powers were at their height.
Still, considering his life for thirty years in Colorado, he
was eigiity-seven instead of fifty-seven years of age, for in
those thirty years he lived two years for every one.
He aspired to the very highest honors that the republic can
bestow ; he had abilities that justified his ambition, but he,
strong and controlling as he was, would never control himself;
he watched as he burned life's candle at both ends and con
templated calmly what would come when the two flames met.
And still so winsome was he, so masterful, so brave, that
those who loved him can not yet recall him as he was in life
that his image is not quickly obscured by their tears.

JOAQUIN MILLER.
A "HEAD of gold, breast and arms of silver," but all the
rest "potter's clay." A half savage chained to a star.
His soul took in every glory of nature ; the hills, the for
est, the overhanging dome of the sky, the stars above, the boom
of the deep-sea surges bringing, in an unknown tongue, mes
sages from far-off lands — all these were delights to him. The
songs of birds always met a response from him, but an Indian
wickiup suited him as well as a palace, and when in the deep
night the scream of a complaining cougar came to his ears, he
smiled and said low to himself : "We are in accord."
A little more, and he would have been out and out a naked
savage ; a little more the other way and the angels in heaven
would have bent their ears toward the earth to listen to his
melodies. Of the earth he was exceedingly earthy, but all the
time the incandescent lights of his soul were shining through
the coarse material and illuminating it.
His courage, moral and physical, was superb. He could
look any danger in the face and smile, and when the foremost
men and women of the land knocked at his rude door, he
received them with a grace as free from affectation as from
apology. While he never felt above the most lowly, he never
met a man whom he deemed his superior. He had a native
savage pride which an earthquake could not have shaken.
In his youth he accepted the sensual side of life, but at
night from his bed on the ground, he had a wireless telegraphy
which brought him messages from the stars. He transcribed
some of these and their divinity cannot be questioned. Had
his surroundings been more refined and had he learned a little
discipline in his youth, who knows what he might not have
achieved ?
He lived his own way asking no odds of anyone, and
without fear passed on.

THE OLD COLUMN.
AT TIMES, as I recall some old names and the character
istics of the men assume distinctive forms before me, it
is a joy to make a hasty record of them. But today
they come in companies, come with the old elastic steps, the
old joyous faces, until the air around me is filled with echoes
of their voices, and the oldtime joyous laughter, and the air
is warmer because of their smiles. For the smiles were lighted
from the fires of youth, which fires have perfect combustion,
leaving no dross upon the earth, making no taint upon the air.
Somehow, in life they seemed to be borne up with a belief
that while it was true that other generations of men have lived
out their span and gone into the silence; it was going to be
different, with them; that they had found the long-looked- for
Ponce de Leon spring, the waters of which were to restore the
waste of nature, the attritions of old age, the assaults of dis
ease ; that each night was to bring them undisturbed rest, and
that each succeeding morning would find them perfectly re
stored to hail the day as joyously as the lark and with no more
apprehensions of evil.
At least they lived that way. There was no work that
could abash them ; no risk they were not ready to assume ; no
clanger that appeared in their path that could daunt them or
turn them aside, and when a call came upon their charities the
thought was, "Why should we not respond generously, for
have we not unabated strength to create more?"
When some one, overborne, fell out of the ranks and grew
still, that mattered not. The explanation was that he always
had been delicate, or that he never had taken any care of him
self, or if all the usual explanations failed, it was said that "he
was out of luck," and then some primitive philosopher of the
company would deliver an address and prove to a demonstra
tion that luck was a force in the world which could no more
be fought back than measles or whooping-cough. And some
near friend would explain that the ancient belief that the Fates

358. AS I REMEMBER THEM.
watched which thread of life to sever with their scissors was
true, and what they did when a man became so much better
than his fellows that their reckless ways gave him pain, was to
mercifully bring peace to him, and so the death of such a man
was not an event to weep over, but rather to chant a farewell
joy strophe above him to be a lullaby for the long sleep.
When from the outside world learned and accomplished
gentlemen came among the band, and meaning to be genial and
pleasing to hosts talked down to them, it always seemed to me
a pity that no voice from the subconscious intellects of those
guests could whisper to them to go slow; that they did not
know their audiences ; for who among the learned in books
and those who have worn soft raiment all their days, can com
prehended what it is for thoughtful men to take their post
graduate courses in that great university, the faculty of which
is made up of the ocean waves that break at the mountains'
feet; the winds that, coming up from the sea, make all the
mighty pines on the mountain tops the harps on which to set
their anthems to music ; the desert with its cold and heat, and
when it sleeps under its pall of silence — that dreadful silence
which is so profound and all encompassing, as though all na
ture had died — that the nerves of dumb animals break down
under it, and they are stampeded ; when to those hunger, and
cold and thirst and hardships are added as assistants ; when
these earnest, generous natures feel the pangs as one hope after
another dies in their souls, can the mere book scholar give such
men any instruction to much interest them ?
When a great calm for a long time spreads its winding
sheet about a portion of the earth, when the sun beats down
until the world and the air become fetid ; then suddenly the
elements arouse themselves and call up a cyclone or a hurri
cane to clear the air, which in its track leaves a trail covered
with the wreck of forests and homes and sometimes dead
men and animals. But the air is purified. Men who live close
to nature take on some of its moods.
What wonder, then, if sometimes sections of this old band
would suddenly arouse themselves and paint things crimson,

THE OLD COLUMN. 359
giving up to excesses and perpetrating episodes not to be ap
proved of by any Sunday School society in the world?.
It was a way they had to clear the atmosphere.
But let no one wonder if some of the native sons of Cali
fornia and Nevada are a little spoiled. It was the old band
that did it.
And do not blame the old band. They felt one hope after
another die in their souls, and bore it without plaint. They
knew that their youth was about to fall off the trail and if the
knowledge brought any sorrow to them they hid it. in their
own hearts ; but every morning as they rose from their rude
couches they felt the little fingers that were not to be tugging
at their garments, and what wonder that when they came upon
children they spoiled them?
AATiat deeds of valor they performed! What noiseless
charities they bestowed ! What self-abnegation attended their
lives ! What splendid industrial triumphs they wrought when
they 'were obliged to adjust ends to means, and from the im
possible to wring victory!
There was no place in their ranks for braggarts or pre
tenders ; they had to be shown ; with a swift intuition they sep
arated gold from dross and the seal of their approval was
equivalent to a certified check.
They were not all angels, but in their hospitality they
assumed every time that they were entertaining angels, and
had a real angel come he, at least, would have known that he
was getting the best that his host could provide.
For me that procession began its march three score
years ago.
I watched it changing year by year, watched it as ever
and oftener one and another fell from the ranks, watched it
until the radiant column shrunk to a straggling band, and of
late have only at long intervals heard a footfall.
But today, looking down the long aisles of memory, the
mists are all cleared away from above the trail, and that pro
cession is again in view — the splendor of the beginning, the
flags, the trumpets^ the joyous songs, the springy, exultant
steps, their paths bathed in sunlight and ablaze with hope ; the

360 AS I REMEMBER THEM.
march through the hot noonday, no wearying, no rest; the
the long afternoon march, and the bivouac under the stars — •
all the music grown still and the night wind sweeping up from
the depths of the desert becomes a requiem.
But through the silence there come whispers of a land
in the Beyond; another land of golden mountains, clear
streams, flowers and sunlit fields, filled with the love songs
of bright plumaged birds, where the dawns, the sunsets, and
the light of the stars are all merged in the greater splendor
of the Eternal Day. THE END.