A Lady's Captivity among Chinese Pirates in the Chinese Seas

Departure from Havre-Regrets-A Barrier of Rocks-Rio Janeiro-Departure from Rio-Six Weeks at Sea-Cape Horn-Storms-Death of a Sailor-Catching a Shark-Land! Land!-The Gold Country.

In the year 1852, on a fine spring morning, I arrived in Havre with my eldest sister, who was going, on commercial matters, to California. We spent several days in Havre; and on the 30th of May, being Whitsunday, we embarked on board the little French schooner called the "Independence," the captain whereof engaged to touch at Rio for food and water. Besides the captain, the master, and the crew, our vessel carried eighteen passengers, all of whom were going to seek their fortunes in California. The weather was superb, and our captain took advantage of a favourable breeze to set sail. The quay was crowded with spectators, and it was not without some dismay that we overheard their observations on the size of our schooner. "Never," said they, "can such a boat double Cape Horn. The least puff of wind must swamp a nutshell like that!" It is easy to conceive the impression which opinions such as these were calculated to produce on two inexperienced Parisiennes, who, like my sister and myself, were travelling for the first time. We looked hesitatingly in each others faces; but it was too late. The time for hesitation was gone by.

In another moment we heard the captain cry, "Let go the moorings!" All was now over and the great sacrifice was accomplished. Farewell, dear friends-Farewell, France-Farewell, Paris, which is a fatherland within a fatherland!-Farewell, all that is comfortable-Farewell, fashion, amusement, peaceful sleep, home comforts-Farewell, in fact, to all that makes life pleasant! For five months, at the least, I must sleep in a hammock instead of a bed; the sky must be my ceiling, and the sea my floor. My only music will be the sound of the breaking waves, and the untaught songs of the sailors. We are going to seek our fortunes-to seek, but what to find? Leaning sorrowfully over the side of the vessel, my heart full of a thousand hopes and regrets, I waved my handkerchief in token of farewell to the friends I left behind me. First the jetty receded; then Ingouville, with its amphitheatre of houses; Ste. Addresse, which owes its celebrity to Alphonse Karr; then Cape la Hêve; and then there remained only the sky and the ocean.

We spent seven days in the Channel-seven days of rain and fog, with a leaden sky above, and the angry waves below. I was very ill during this part of the voyage. Not till the Sunday, which was the seventh day after our departure, had I strength to venture upon deck. The beacon off the Lizard Point was just visible, and I stood there watching it, till the light finally disappeared.

The passage of the Bay of Biscay was accomplished, not without danger to our fragile bark. At length, after fifteen days on the sea, we came within the influence of a Brazilian climate. I was never weary of admiring those clear skies and glorious sunsets the beauty of which no art could adequately reproduce.

We were rapidly approaching Janeiro, when we were one day startled by a sound like the rolling of distant thunder. The sea was calm; there was not a cloud overhead, and no other ship in sight. The deck was crowded in an instant. The noise grew louder, and we gazed tremblingly in each others faces. The mate, who was on the look out, cried "Breakers ahead!" "Helm about!" replied the captain. The order came just in time. Happily for us, our little schooner escaped with only a scratch.

Brief as this incident had been, the women were all either fainting or shrieking. As for me, I was petrified. I had not really understood the imminence of the danger; but I always looked upon the captain's face as a kind of sea-barometer, and, on this occasion, the barometer fell considerably. My poor sister was overwhelmed with terror. "Cheer up," said I. "You have been longing for an adventure ever since we started, and here is a promising commencement!"

Eight days after this we were in the roads of Rio Janeiro, and came in sight of the Sugar-loaf Mountain, which towers above the bay. I can hardly believe that there exists under heaven a more exquisite scene. It is ineffaceably engraved on my memory. I can still see those wooded hills, those solitary creeks, those delicious valleys, those trees which never know an autumn tint, that immense expanse of sea, and all that marvellous landscape, which, even as one looks upon it, seems more of a dream than a reality.

The entrance to the port is defended by several forts, amongst which are those of Santa Cruz, Villagagnon, and the Isle of Serpents. These two last, which are the most imposing, are built upon islands lying within the bay. At Rio Janeiro we rejoiced to resume the manners and habits of Europe.

Rio is, as every one knows, a purely commercial city. The harbour, the exchange, and the markets are crowded with merchants and sailors. The variety of costumes, the songs of the negro porters, the chiming of church bells, the diversity of languages and faces, German, French, and Italian, all contribute to give a strange and lively aspect to the city.

During the fifteen days which we passed at Rio Janeiro, we visited all that was worth seeing in the city and its environs. The mountains, towards the north-east, are much built over. It is there that the Jesuit college, the Benedictine convent, the episcopal palace, and the Fort of Concéiado are situated. The architecture of these buildings appeared to me both heavy and ungraceful; but I much admired the aqueduct (finished in 1840), which brings the water from the torrents of Corcavado down to the city fountains. The imperial palace of St. Christopher is built at some distance from Rio, and is approached by a portico and a double colonnade. The promenade in front is planted with mangoes and laurels. There, like a true Parisienne, I did not fail closely to observe the toilettes of the Brazilian belles. Although these ladies profess themselves the devoted followers of our French fashions, they still indulge the Portuguese taste for ornament. The amount of jewels worn by each would be sufficient to stock a shop-window; and they chiefly love to dazzle from a distance. On the whole, they are pretty; though perhaps a little too pale and sallow. With strangers they are familiar, perhaps even somewhat coquettish, and their nonchalance is particularly amusing. Lounging nearly all day on sofas covered with matting, they disdain mere household matters. As to their education, they never receive any; and their conversation is of the most uninteresting description. Their favourite topics are their slaves and their servants. It is no unusual sight to see these indolent women rouse themselves from their habitual lethargy, to run long needles into the arms or bosoms of the negresses who wait upon them. The society of Rio Janeiro is divided into coteries. The young Emperor of Brazil patronizes art, science, and letters; his people occupy themselves only with trade and money-getting. Indeed it is not long since a Parisian bookseller, of whom I enquired respecting the literature most in favour at Rio, replied that the books which sold best in the Brazils were those with red bindings! As to the commerce of Rio, it has increased of late to an enormous degree. Sugars, coffees, cottons, rum, tobacco, and other articles of native produce, are exported every year to the value of several millions of piastres. I can never forget the delight with which I visited the environs of Rio, or the delicious excursion that we made to the neighbourhood of Tijuca. It took us two days to get there; but we halted for the night at a plantation, where we were received with the utmost hospitality. Starting by daybreak the next morning, we proceeded through a labyrinth of delightful paths, and soon found ourselves face to face with the famous cascade, which is here precipitated into the midst of an amphitheatre of rocks. In the presence of this spectacle I must confess, in justice to myself, that I began to be somewhat consoled for the absence of Paris, and the Boulevard des Italiens. Often, O shade of Louis XIV.! as I had seen the great fountains at Versailles, I now found them surpassed. Less agreeable, I admit, was the knowledge that these vast solitudes were peopled with jaguars and other ferocious beasts. After all, I prefer to admire wild animals in the Jardin des Plantes.

Having laid in fresh provisions, the captain took advantage of the fine weather, and we left Rio Janeiro. My sister and I had also stocked ourselves with good things; amongst the rest, with a large quantity of delicious little oranges, fine-skinned, perfumed, and sweet, which are sold in Rio for a mere song.

On the 7th of July we set sail once more for California. Seeing our little schooner depart on so long a voyage, the Brazilians proved themselves quite as discouraging as our evil prophets of Havre. "The 'Independence,'" said they, "can never weather the tempests off Cape Horn!" My sister implored me not to continue our voyage; but, although I partook of all her fears, I remained inflexible. Independently of my desire to make a fortune, I felt myself impelled to go farther and farther away, and court the very dangers that I feared. I was proud of having crossed the line, and could not have borne to pause when half-way on the road. I had not much confidence in our schooner; but, had we chosen to go on by another vessel, we must have paid our fare twice over, and we had already spent as much as was consistent with our means.

Behold us, then, once more at sea, and, this time, for two or three months at the least. We talked, it is true, of touching at Lima, but on this head there was nothing certain. Our living was detestable; and despite the expostulations, and even the blows, with which our chef was stimulated, he never seemed to improve. My belief is, that he cooked entirely by chance. Wearied to death were we of potted meats, cabbage-soup, and half-boiled cod. These details are not poetical, but the facts are painfully true. On board the steamers (which put frequently into port, and carry cattle on board) the bill of fare is generally excellent; but in small merchant-vessels, such as the "Independence," the food is but too often scanty and unwholesome.

For a whole week we had the finest weather imaginable. There were five women on board; and we sewed, embroidered, and played at loto, as cosily as in our own homes. Every evening we all assembled upon deck. There we talked and sang, and the singing, it is true, was not always very good; but at sea one's audience is not critical. Besides, it was pleasant to listen to French airs and choruses; and, when far away, all that recalls one's fatherland is welcome. By the way, I have forgotten to observe that our crew was entirely French.

And now the weather began to grow colder, and the sea, become more boisterous, no longer rocked us like a kindly nurse, but flung us rudely to and fro. Our embroidery, our loto, our singing came abruptly to an end, and we found ourselves subjected to all the miseries of a maritime journey. Every face was pinched, yellow, and discontented, and only groans and complaints were heard on every side. We were not absolutely in any kind of danger; but we were the victims of sickness and ennui. Thus several long weeks went by, and, day by day, the cold grew more severe. At length we came in sight of Cape Horn, clad in ice. Involuntarily, I thought of all the evil prophecies which had accompanied us since we started; but, to my great surprise, the nearer we approached the Cape, the more tranquil grew the sea. A dead calm ensued. For forty-eight hours we never stirred a foot. At length, towards the evening of the second day, the weather changed, the sea became agitated, and this time we found ourselves indeed menaced with one of those sudden storms which are peculiar to these latitudes. The captain instantly took in every sail. At this moment a young sailor was carried off the yards by a sudden squall, and was not missed until it was too late to save him. I can still hear the voice of the captain calling, and counting his sailors-"Jacques, Pierre, André, Remy, Christian, Robert, where are you?" "Here, sir!" "And Jean-Marie? Jean-Marie?" But Jean-Marie replied not. He had disappeared for ever, and of our eight sailors we had lost one. Poor Jean-Marie had been our ship's carpenter. It was his first voyage, and he was to have been married on his return. That night, all on board were sleepless. "They were right," thought I. "This Cape Horn is indeed a deadly and a dangerous spot!" The moaning sea and the sighing wind furnished a dreary accompaniment to these sombre thoughts. For twelve days we remained tossing to and fro without making any appreciable progress. On the thirteenth, we doubled the Cape. Soon after this, we sailed into a warmer latitude, and crossed the line for the second time.

And now the provisions became more and more scanty, wherefore we all complained bitterly of the shipowner. Eight or ten days more must, perforce, elapse before we could arrive at San Francisco; and, should we be delayed by contrary winds, it was just probable that we might die of hunger on the way. I began now to regret my own obstinacy, and wished that I had yielded to my sister's entreaties. While we were yet in this dilemma, our sailors caught a shark. It was so big, that, even after it was harpooned and hoisted on board, I dared not venture near it. Armed with their knives, our men speedily despatched it. It then was delivered over, piece by piece, into the hands of our abominable cook, who seasoned it with different sauces, and, horrible to relate, served it up for three successive days! We had, however, endured so many privations that every one pronounced it to be delicious, and only the captain and two sailors refused to eat it. Even they refused not from disgust, but superstition, believing that one day or other they might chance to be eaten in return.

If there be a delight unknown to those whose careless lives glide by in lettered leisure; if there be a joy untried by those Sybarites of great cities who seek to exhaust the pleasures of this world without risk or fatigue, it is that immense and ineffable rapture which overflows one's heart at the close of a long sea-voyage. Not till one has spent six months of life between the sea and the sky, the plaything of tempests, and subject to all the dangers of shipwreck and fire, is it possible to comprehend the intoxication of feeling with which one hears the sailor up aloft pronounce that magic word-"Land! land!" Everybody rushes on deck-the women burst into tears, for thus they translate every emotion of joy or sorrow-and the men, eager and triumphant, congratulate each other upon the distance and the dangers which are over at last. At sight of San Francisco, our passengers forgot all the sufferings of the journey, and began dreaming once again of the good fortune which awaited them. My sister and I followed the general example, and, for us, the present wore all the pleasant colours of the future. Poor France! thou wert soon forgotten, and we already opened our arms to this inhospitable land where gold is the only true God.

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The Bay of San Francisco-Deserted Ships-The Mission-Dolores-Manners of the Chinese Emigrants-The Black Race-The Loungers of Jackson Street-Gaming Houses-The Black Band-The Committee of Vigilance-On Hanging.

On the 21st of November, 1852, we came in sight of the little islands called the Farellones, which lie at the mouth of the bay of San Francisco, and of Bonetta Point, which, towards the left, juts out to a considerable distance into the sea. At this spot, a pilot came on board to conduct our schooner through the narrow straits, which hereabouts are scarcely more than half a mile across. The steep rocks and sandy hills, all overgrown with brambles, which line the shore on every side next came into sight; and, immediately afterwards, a magnificent spectacle was presented to our view. We came, all at once, upon a fleet met together from every nation under heaven, as if to attest the importance of this modern city. Turning from the contemplation of these crowded masts, and parti-coloured flags, I beheld with surprise the scene of desolation presented by the sandy shores on the other side of the bay. There, all crowded together and falling to decay, lay the ruins of another fleet, scarcely less numerous than the first. Their faded flags hung in tatters from the broken masts; their decks had given way; and the moss was already growing in the interstices of the boards. They had long since been abandoned by their crews, all of whom, once landed, had fled away to the gold regions, and left their good ships to ruin and decay-melancholy examples of the greed of gain! Before the discovery of the gold mines, San Francisco was a harbour frequented by whalers, who put in there to refit and take in provisions. The dealings between the Indians and the European sailors were at that time limited to exchanges of skins. About half a century ago, a party of Spanish missionaries established themselves at some little distance from the coast, and built a small church called the Mission-Dolores, which exists to the present day. When these Californian solitudes were overrun by Americans and Europeans in search of gold, that lonely spot, whither religious faith alone had penetrated, became one of the busiest haunts of San Francisco. A fine road was opened, buildings of all kinds sprang up around the modest chapel, and the road of the Mission-Dolores has now become one of the gayest promenades of the city.

At the time of my arrival (November, 1852), San Francisco presented a sufficiently curious aspect, with its sandy streets, its planked foot-ways, and its houses built of wood, iron, and brick. A marvellous activity prevailed in all parts of the city; and I was particularly struck with the coming and going of this polyglot population, composed of men and women of all races, complexions, and national costumes. I was jostled every moment by the natives of eastern and western America, of Tahiti, of the Sandwich Isles, and of every part of the European continent. Emigration had been going on very extensively for the three or four years preceding my arrival, and the population of San Francisco had consequently augmented to a total of something like sixty thousand souls.

But this city changes its aspect from day to day. Stone buildings were even then springing up in every direction. Montgomery Street, one of its handsomest thoroughfares, was paved, and bordered with superb buildings. Shops, warehouses, cafés, and magnificent hotels enlivened the street towards evening with thousands of lamps; and, seeing the crowds that issue at night from the Metropolitan Theatre, one can with difficulty believe that, only six years before, the Indians, lasso in hand, scoured this very spot in pursuit of the wild horse and the buffalo.

San Francisco had by this time become somewhat less expensive than formerly. It was possible to hire a furnished room for forty piastres per month, the value of a piastre being about four and twopence. This was considerably cheaper than the rents of many previous years, when shops were let at 100, 200, and sometimes 600 piastres per month. Meat and game were also much more reasonable. Mutton was sold at one piastre per pound, and veal at half a piastre. Milk, having at first cost one piastre the bottle, had fallen to two shillings, one shilling, and, finally, sixpence. Vegetables, on account of their scarcity, were sold at enormous prices. A pound of potatoes was not purchaseable at less than one shilling, and eggs cost from three to six piastres the dozen. The washing of a dozen articles of linen cost five piastres; a bottle of champagne, five piastres; and the cleaning of a pair of boots, two shillings. On the other hand, salmon was plentiful, and sold in all the markets at one piastre per pound. In the early days of San Francisco, one piastre would scarcely pay for the most simple repast without wine.

A great part of this population came originally from China; and if I first name these emigrants, it is because their colony, established in the midst of foreigners, presents many curious features. Their unsocial habits are already well known. Although their industrial inclinations drew them hither to this young and fertile country, they nevertheless brought with them all the sullen and solitary instincts of their race. Thus, to avoid mingling with the Europeans, they congregated in a special quarter of the city. Sacramento Street, which is the centre of their colony, presents all the characteristics of a street in Canton, or any other Chinese city. Their commerce is exclusively confined to the products of their own country; and, in Dupont Street, they have gaming-tables always ready to tempt such of their countrymen as may be disposed to risk their hard-won gold.

An equally curious population may be found in another part of San Francisco. I allude to the blacks, who, like the Chinese, are settled altogether as one great family. They inhabit one entire side of Kearney Street; but the motives which have drawn them together arise from quite a different source. The Americans hate the negroes, and their antipathy is neither unknown nor dissembled. The contempt with which they are always treated, has, naturally enough, caused these latter to unite together in a quarter where they will neither trouble, nor be troubled by, their oppressors.

The reciprocal hate of these two races, the one so timid, and the other so arrogant, has induced between them a suspension of every social relation. The blacks are excluded from all public places frequented by their tyrants. They dare not show themselves at the cafés, the restaurants, or the theatres; and, having no other resource than dress, they parade the streets with cravats of the most dazzling colours, fingers loaded with rings, and dresses the delicate tints and textures of which contrast ridiculously with the ebon hue of the wearers. You chance, now and then, to meet a negro who is doing his best to imitate the manners of a gentleman; but he is sure to be absorbed in the perfection of his boots and gloves, and is altogether pervaded with an uneasy consciousness of his own dandyism. All the efforts of Mrs. Beecher Stowe have not yet availed to elevate the social position of the negro in the United States. The generous sympathy which this lady has manifested towards the coloured population appears simply ridiculous in the eyes of her own countrymen; and even in this free land, where the social rights of man have been at least conceded to them, the inferiority of their position is still so painfully apparent, that, after all, they can scarcely be said to have gained more than the mere privilege of making money and being their own masters.

The rest of the population consists chiefly of Americans, French, English, Germans, Dutch, Mexicans, Chilians, etc., etc.

Jackson Street is one of the most curious in San Francisco. On either side, the primitive wooden huts of the first settlers are still standing, and almost every dwelling is an eating-house, or "bar," as it is here generally called. After dark, when the gas is lighted, these establishments present a most extraordinary coup d'?il. The diggers, after a lucky day's labour, meet here for recreation; and this assemblage, gathered together from all parts of the world, makes up the strangest picture imaginable. The confusion of tongues and the variety of costume baffle description. Negresses, Mexicans, Peruvians, Chilians, and Chinese women decked out in furbelows and flounces, are seen hand in hand, and side by side with men who drink, and dance, and stamp, and shout for joy, to the sound of infernal music. Should you pause for a few moments before the door of one of these haunts, you are sure to witness some frightful quarrel, begun apparently in sport. This quarrel is but the lightning which precedes the thunder. The melée soon becomes general, and you had best escape while yet you may; for the quarter will be in a commotion for the rest of the evening. Blood is sure to flow, and a formidable fight, in which many lives are sacrificed, but too frequently follows.

Still more curious is it to observe these people in the gaming-houses. There, by the light of glittering chandeliers, the contrast between these white, black, and bronzed faces becomes more startling than ever, crowded as they are around tables heaped with gold, silver, and ingots. When these gaming-houses were first started, and the gold-fever was at its height, many a serious fra?as took place in the rooms, and, more than once, the winners found themselves paid with a pistol shot. It was then proposed to abolish the gaming-houses altogether; but, as the government exacted enormous rents for the hire of these establishments, they were eventually suffered to remain. The games are various. The Mexicans play chiefly at monti; the French at roulette, vingt-et-un, trente-et-quarante, and lansquenet; and the Americans at faro. I shall never forget the countenances of those professional gamblers who form, as it were, an essential part of these establishments. They are ready to play for others as well as for themselves, and there are few tables without three or four of these auxiliaries. Unruffled and business-like, they play on perpetually, and take no notice of whatever may be going forward. Playing for themselves, they win, on the average, from four to five dollars per diem; playing for others, they contrive to gain from eight to twelve. The windfall-gatherers are also deserving of mention. They are mostly Americans, who make it their business to pounce upon such stray coins, as are not immediately claimed by the winners. Watchful of every venture, they follow each turn of the cards, and, if a dollar be for one instant forgotten or left upon the table, an eager hand clutches and bears it off before the unsuspecting player has time even to recognize the thief. The proprietors of the gaming-houses favour these predatory individuals, and even help to distract the attention of the novice whom they have selected for their victim. This system of robbery is a sore trial to inexperienced players, and the consequences are often serious. The player who finds himself defrauded, scruples not to shoot the thief as if he were a dog. All these houses are provided with good orchestras, and the music sounds well to the chinking of the gold.

There is yet another and a more formidable class infesting these places. It is known by the name of the Black Band, and consists of a party of American swindlers. Well-dressed, skilful, and audacious, they follow their daring craft with utter impunity, and are the terror of the population. If they go into a gaming-house, it is with no idea of wasting their time on the chances of the cards. They find it more profitable and convenient simply to sweep off all the gold from the tables, after which they coolly walk away, and no one dares to stop them. These frauds are, as it were, consecrated by time and tradition. The police and the local government have as yet no power to put a stop to them, and, though the scandalous misdemeanours committed by the members of the Black Band would fill a volume, they are yet suffered to tyrannize over the entire community. Every day during my stay, some merchant's house was plundered, and did the loser dare to lodge a complaint against the robbers, they not only returned to the charge, but destroyed everything of value that came in their way. Nor was this all. They dined, drank, and helped themselves at all places of public resort, with their customary audacity; and, although their excesses had greatly diminished since the first peopling of the colony, there was not yet established, in 1852, any legal force sufficiently powerful to operate against them.

Arrived at San Francisco, we established ourselves in Montgomery Street, and hired a little furnished apartment, at a rent of three hundred francs per month. Considering that the walls were never dry, and that our bed was always soaked in rainy weather, we may be said to have paid somewhat dearly for our accommodation. We consoled ourselves, however, with the panorama which lay extended before our windows, and agreed that so glorious a prospect was cheap at any price; for it comprehended, not only the greater part of the city and the surrounding mountains, but included a bird's-eye view of the room in which the Committee of Vigilance had established its tribunal. This room was situated over a baker's shop, close under our windows, and a piece of cord attached to a pulley hung out from the first story, as an emblem of that simple and summary process known by the name of Lynch law. Not many days after our arrival, an execution took place. I chanced to awake very early that morning, and on opening my window saw two men busily occupied in fixing a new and unusually long cord to the pulley before mentioned. Already distant cries and the trampling of many feet announced something unusual, and in another moment the street was filled by an eager and angry crowd. I foresaw the terrible scene which was about to take place, and, seized by an overwhelming terror, dragged my sister from the room, and left the house by a back door. In another quarter of an hour we were in the country, where we remained and spent the day with some friends. I afterwards ascertained that the criminal was a Spanish assassin. Arriving at the scaffold with a cigar in his mouth, he calmly addressed the crowd, and smoked till the very moment when the fatal noose was tied. The story that I had heard, and the sight that I had seen, left so painful an impression on my mind, that I was soon weary of my lodging in Montgomery Street, and hastened to seek another.

This terrible Lynch law is so called after an unfortunate man of that name, who became its first victim. The fatal and frequent errors which must necessarily ensue from this illegal system, may easily be conceived.

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Sacramento-Fort Sutter-Nomadic Indians-Marysville-Shasta City-Adventure with a Bear-Weaverville-The Miners-The Rocky Mountains-Eureka-Return to San Francisco.

I spent a year at San Francisco, and, during that time, paid a visit to Sacramento, which is the second large city of California. The steamer took me there in a single day, and gave me an opportunity of admiring the river scenery. The city of Sacramento stands in the midst of a flat and fertile district, somewhat resembling the cultivated plains of France. The buildings, like those of San Francisco, are built partly of wood, or brick, and partly of stone.

Here commerce is less active, and the heat more oppressive, than in the city I had just left. The surrounding marshes infect the air with pestilential vapours, and when the river overflows its banks, the country all around becomes one immense sheet of water. The gold diggers at one time poured by thousands into this unhealthy district; but the mortality amongst them was so rapid that, after the first brief harvest, they were glad to leave it.

For those who wish to go direct to Marysville by land, there is a comfortable stage-coach; but the roads are bad, and the jolting is terrible. When we had traversed about twenty miles of the road, we came upon Fort Sutter, which is inhabited by a tribe of Indians. Looking out from the windows of a stage-coach, and seeing these wild bands spurring across the plains, one is forcibly impressed by the contrast between savage and civilized life. Their complexion is tawny, their eyes large and black, and their expression, when not indicative of discontent, is innocent and wondering as that of a child. Their hair is straight and abundant, and black as jet, and grows down within half an inch of the eyebrows. Their dress consists of skins and quaintly-embroidered stuffs; on their necks and arms they wear an abundance of necklaces and bracelets, made of shells, glass-beads, and buttons. Notwithstanding all this finery, they are far from cleanly in their habits. They dwell in little dome-shaped huts, built up with clay and boughs of trees, and entered by a small opening near the ground. Here they crowd together, men, women, children, and dogs, and feed upon the produce of the chase and the river. Amongst other fish, they catch an abundance of fine salmon, which they dry for winter consumption.

These Indians never eat fresh meat; but, when it is putrid, either boil or grill it. They grow a kind of grain which they shell out into wooden bowls, work into a paste, and bake as bread. With this, they likewise eat grasshoppers and various other insects.

The traveller who pursues the road to Marysville, is tolerably certain to meet with more than one troop of aborigines. They have been driven into these desert regions before the advancing footsteps of civilization, and, although many of them, drawn thither by curiosity and that love of gain so common to all mankind, have ended by embracing the habits and occupations of the new comers, many others have, nevertheless, remained in open warfare, and several American expeditions have already been undertaken against them.

After eight hours of travelling, in the course of which we had forded several rivers, and encountered the worst roads I ever remember to have traversed, we arrived at Marysville.

With the exception of some few brick houses, Marysville is constructed entirely of wood. Situated on the enchanting banks of the Yuba, this city resembles an immense market-place, and does in fact supply all the villages and diggings round about. The heat here, however, is even more overwhelming, and the fever still more fatal, than at Sacramento.

It was in this city, and at the very hotel where I alighted in company with the rest of my stage-coach companions, that I met with an adventure which very nearly cost me my life. We were dining in company with a lady and her husband. Just as we had finished, and were about to leave the house, we heard an extraordinary commotion in the room overhead. The master of the hotel, in answer to our enquiries, replied that it was only a party of gentlemen who had met to dine upstairs. Being by this time tolerably well used to American manners, we were by no means surprised, but merely hastened our preparations, in order to get away before these revellers became more uproarious. It was a fine night, and we were anxious to pursue our journey by moonlight. Already the sound of broken plates and glasses foretold a serious ending to the riot. We waited to pay our bill, and suffered for our honesty. At the very moment when the master of the hotel was counting out our change, the door upstairs flew open, and the staircase was all at once filled by a drunken and vociferating crowd. We endeavoured to escape; but the fight had already begun. The combatants were all armed with revolvers, and in another instant I found myself separated from my companions. All at once a shot was fired, a ball whistled past my ear, and a second shot took effect upon a stranger who fell wounded at my feet. Distracted with fear, I ran I knew not whither, and was met by my friends, who believed me to have been injured, and were hastening to my help. The assassin, it seemed, had singled out a gentleman who ran for shelter down the passage where I was standing. Pursued and fired at, he nevertheless effected his escape; but the first shot passed within an inch of my head, and the second lodged in the left shoulder of an unoffending bystander.

The gloom of the passage, and the male attire which I habitually wore, had aided to mislead the would-be murderer. After all, I had a narrow escape of it.

It may not be out of place, at this point, to describe my costume, and to explain the motives by which I was led to adopt it. I wore a gray felt hat, a travelling paletot, and Hessian boots, such as were then the fashion in California. To these boots were attached a pair of Mexican spurs, useful for the mule-riding which is so frequent a mode of transit in these parts. Besides all this, I wore doeskin gloves, a leather belt made to carry gold, and a poignard. This dress is not only picturesque, but necessary; for the country is savage and unsettled, and, in moments of danger, the woman who is thus attired can better escape or defend herself than if she were encumbered with the garments peculiar to her sex. Up to the present moment I had never ceased congratulating myself on the success of my charming disguise; but this adventure, I must confess, somewhat diminished my confidence in my own temerity.

As may be conjectured by the preceding anecdote, the Americans, when intoxicated, are the maddest and most dangerous of human beings. They drink little wine; but, during their orgies, are much given to brandy, whisky, gin, absinthe, and other strong liquors. Their blood once inflamed, even the most peaceable among them become quarrelsome and sanguinary, and commit murders which, in their reasonable moments, inspire even themselves with horror.

Shasta City is a small settlement lying towards the north of California, and consists of a single street of wooden houses situated at some little distance from Sierra-Névada. This town was formerly the market which supplied certain rich diggings of the neighbourhood, long since exhausted. Instead, however, of being consequently deserted, Shasta City still flourishes in virtue of its situation. It is a halting-place for stage-coaches, and a station for the sale or hire of mules, without which it would be impossible to traverse the dangerous bridle-paths of the Rocky Mountains. Passing through this city, we beheld one of those great social disasters so common to California. Even at the moment of our arrival a great fire broke out, and in less than an hour the greater part of the city was consumed. Still more melancholy was it, towards evening, to see the unhappy inhabitants wandering amid the smoking ruins in search of the friends and fortunes they had lost.

Leaving Shasta City, and turning towards the north, as if bound for Oregon, the traveller passes through a mountainous country infested with enormous tawny bears, one of which alarmed me as I never wish to be alarmed again. I was riding somewhat in the rear of my companions. My mule was jogging slowly on, and, what with the fatigue of perpetual travelling, and the extreme heat of the day, I was more than half asleep. All at once, about twenty feet in advance, I beheld a huge bear peeping out at me from a cleft in the rocks, and swaying his head to and fro with the most tranquil and self-possessed air imaginable. The reins fell from my hands; the colour rushed to my face; I was paralyzed with terror, and had no voice to cry for help. The bear, however, content with the impression he had made, amused himself by rolling over and over in the middle of the road, without taking any notice of either me or my mule. A turn in the road now luckily brought me in sight of my companions. Their presence gave me courage, and, unwilling to prolong this exciting téte-à-téte, I put spurs to my mule, galloped rapidly on, and in another moment was indulging in a glowing description of the dangers through which I had passed.

Not far from Weaverville, where it was our intention to halt, we came upon Trinity River, on the banks of which many bloody battles have been fought between the Indians and Americans. Kneeling on the backs of our mules, we forded the stream, and landed among the rich pastures which clothe the table-lands all round about the city. Weaverville is the most northerly city of California, and lies amid a circle of mountains, the summits of which are covered with perpetual snow. Grouped together at the feet of these pine-clad mountains, the pretty wooden houses of Weaverville have a certain tranquil and pastoral effect, not unlike many an Alpine village. The air here is pure, fevers are unknown, and the whole place presents a delightful contrast to the unhealthy activity of San Francisco and Sacramento. The transport of letters and gold is carried on by an express postal service; and the auriferous riches of the district attract a considerable influx of visitors.

We sojourned for some time in this peaceful locality, which seemed as if it had never been visited by adversity or sorrow. Strolling one day in the outskirts of the town, I came upon a desolate-looking spot, in the midst of which stood two black crosses, such as are seen in the French cemeteries. They occupied the very spot upon which the foundations of a building were yet visible. Naturally curious, I hastened to enquire the history of these funereal emblems, and heard in reply the following narrative:-

During the first or second year which followed the discovery of gold in California, there existed no form of regular government. Those miners, therefore, who first penetrated into the regions of Weaverville, were obliged, in a measure, to take the law into their own hands, and protect themselves and their property. Here they lived in a state of the most complete independence, subject to no taxation, and relying for safety upon their own courage and fire-arms. Soon the American Government recognized the necessity of organizing a political jurisdiction for the greater safety of those masses which were crowding, day by day, to the gold-fields of the new State. A system of taxation was forthwith imposed upon all the cities of California, and, amongst other measures, it was decreed that every digger should purchase the right of exercising his vocation. These new laws met, of course, with much opposition, and the sheriff who was despatched from San Francisco to Weaverville, found his office by no means safe or pleasant.

Amongst some of the first gold-seekers who penetrated to these mountainous districts, was an Irishman, who had here built his house, and established himself and family. Being summoned to open his door, in order that the sheriff might take an inventory of his goods, he declared himself ready to defend his domestic liberties with his life, and refused to admit any law-officer whatever, without some more convincing guarantee of his authority. Exasperated by this resistance, the sheriff, who was a man of savage temper and indomitable energy, and who had served in many an expedition against the Indians, replied only by a shot from his revolver. The unhappy gold-digger fell dead across the threshold of his door, and his wife, in trying to defend him, shared his fate. Henceforth, the new taxes were raised and paid without opposition. As for the Irishman's house, it was razed to the ground, and those two black crosses serve to perpetuate the spot where the victims were buried.

The greater proportion of Californian gold-diggers is Irish; and, at a distance of about three miles from Weaverville, there lies a little town called Sidney, which is exclusively colonized by these people.

During my stay in this district, I took advantage of an opportunity to visit some Indian prisoners, who had not long since been taken, and who were kept upon a piece of waste ground at some little distance from the city. Here they had built themselves huts, and dwelt as they might have dwelt in their native forests. They had been captured during an expedition which was lately undertaken to avenge the murder of an American merchant, and were here expiating the crimes of others. Amongst them was one man so old and decrepit, that it seemed as if he could scarcely live from one day to another. Turning slowly towards me, he uncovered his chest, and displayed a large and deep wound, from which the ball had not yet been extracted. Some few steps farther on lay a young Indian woman. A thick blanket was wrapped about the upper part of her body, and she wore a petticoat of fine matting, beyond which her lovely little feet alone were visible. Her wrist was broken by a pistol shot. Prostrate and motionless, she lay like a dead creature. Her face alone glowed with a kind of savage heroism, and her great black glittering eyes met mine steadily and coldly, as if she were insensible to pain.

Two savage dogs, of the species called coyotes, had followed the prisoners into captivity. These dogs live, like the Indians, in wild and wandering bands. They have short legs, smooth tan-coloured skins, and muzzles fringed like that of the fox. They abound in the desert country round about Oregon, and, unless impelled by hunger, rarely venture in the neighbourhood of the towns. Timid by nature, they fly at sight of man. Amongst the prisoners I observed several women, who were attending to their children, and cooking their food, after the manner of civilized nations. The men of these nomadic tribes leave all household matters to the women.

The children were playing happily together amid their sorrowful elders. The heads of two of the number had been lately shaved, in token of mourning. Their faces had also been blackened, according to the Indian custom, and I was told that their parents had been killed in the late attack. In this part of California it is only the women who are tattooed, and the men never shave their heads, excepting for the loss of a near relative.

We gave these Indian prisoners some game, a couple of gray squirrels, and three doves, all of which, in California, are accounted delicious dainties. Our offerings were received with good will, and the women, in return, presented us with some necklaces of shells.

Weaverville is the centre of a great mining district, and its commerce chiefly consists of provisions, household utensils, and tools used in the diggings. The land thereabouts is of a reddish hue and of a particularly auriferous quality. There are few spots which do not yield some profit to the pickaxe and cradle of the miner. Provided with these, he unearths and washes the nuggets. The first blow of the pickaxe, and the washing of the first cradleful furnishes him with an estimate of his harvest for the day; since he has only to measure his gains by the speed of his labour. It was attempted, at an immense cost of money and time, to turn the course of Trinity river, and convey a canal through the heart of the diggings; but the project was too gigantic, and the works were at length abandoned for want of capital.

The southern mines are much poorer than those of the north, and, consequently, enjoy a smaller share of popularity. There are two seasons favorable to the work; the one begins in November, during the rainy season, and the other after the melting of the winter snows in April or May. Were there more water in California, a larger amount of gold would be found, and the diggers would suffer fewer miseries during times of drought.

The profits of a gold-digger vary with the soil on which he works. Some gain five piastres per diem, others ten, twelve, and upwards. Some there are who, having chanced upon an unusually auriferous spot, make fortunes rapidly; but those of whom we hear nothing are the unlucky thousands, who, having abandoned their homes and families in the hope of gain, arrive too late, and find only those lands which have been exhausted by others. For such as these, despair and starvation alone remain.

A travelling gold-digger presents a somewhat eccentric appearance. He wears great leather boots, which reach considerably above his knees, a coarse woollen shirt, and a felt hat beaten out of shape. To the left of his belt hangs a bowie-knife, to the right a revolver. On his shoulder he carries his pickaxe, on his back his bedding, and round his neck his saucepan and miner's cradle.

Leaving Weaverville for Eureka, which lies still farther to the north of California, we crossed a long chain of mountains, passable only by mules. We frequently rode beside abysses so frightful that we dared not look at them, and pursued sandy paths all seamed with serpent tracks. In the midst of these vast solitudes, we came now and then upon a party of muleteers. The tinkling music of the mule-bells, the crackling of the dry leaves under foot, and the mysterious vapours by which we were surrounded, all combined to add to the poetry of this strange and solemn scene. In a church I have often vainly striven to pray; but amid a nature such as this, prayer comes unbidden.

In consequence of the snow which had lately fallen, our journey was more than usually tedious and difficult. We frequently beheld the foot-tracks of the gray bear. Now and then we passed the carcasses of animals which had been devoured, and came, more than once, upon fresh blood-stains in the snow.

A few miles farther on, being quite overpowered by fatigue, we halted at a hut which had been built by some Americans, amid the regions of perpetual snow. We took them, at first, for brigands; but they were simply inn-keepers, who sold us cutlets of bear ham for their weight in gold. I had already tasted this dish at San Francisco, and found it on both occasions delicious.

In the heart of these Oregon mountains lie table-lands, which in summer are covered with the richest vegetation. They are, for the most part, cultivated by emigrants from the interior of the United States. The gathering together of these and other emigrant labourers, renders Eureka still more important as a place of business, than either Weaverville or Shasta City. It is a stopping-place, where travellers pause to lay in stores of provision, and to make such purchases as are necessary for the pursuit of either mining or agriculture. In proportion, however, as the European and American population increased, it became more and more incumbent upon the Eurekans, to watch over their own personal safety. Driven from their hunting-grounds, and forced to take refuge in the mountains, the Indians cherished a profound hatred towards these new comers, and Eureka became the scene of a harassing nocturnal warfare. When I arrived at Eureka, the outrages which had lately taken place were the theme of every tongue. Whole farms had been burnt, and whole families massacred in the immediate neighbourhood of the city.

Eureka is but fifteen miles from Oregon, and we arrived there in the month of November, A.D. 1853.

The houses, and even the chief hotel, are here built of wood. As usual, wherever there are gold-diggings in the neighbourhood, there are gaming-houses in the city. At the restaurant La Fayette, which is the best conducted of these establishments, an excellent French dinner may be had. For all this, and despite the general tendency towards material comforts, it was difficult in 1853 to surround one's self with many of the luxuries of life. Everybody, for instance, slept upon straw-beds, and mattresses were unknown.

The frosts this winter were so severe, that scarcely a day passed but I saw three or four frozen corpses brought into the town. As for our bread and meat, we had to cut it with an axe and hammer.

The mines of Eureka are also highly productive; but here, as elsewhere, the want of water is often sorely felt.

After staying in the city for twelve weeks, and having, by that time, disposed of our merchandise to considerable advantage, my sister and I returned to San Francisco. This fatiguing journey had tried us both severely, and we now entertained serious thoughts of establishing ourselves in business, and making our home in that city.

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