The first of February we again changed the scene of our labours, and commenced working on American Bar within a few rods of our dam. This bar had been originally extremely rich, but having been already dug over by three or four successive parties, nothing now remained but the bare granite and numerous piles of paving-stones with a little sand sifted among them. Nevertheless, we worked here for three weeks, and in that time took out about three hundred dollars; almost all of which we found embedded from one to six inches in the soft granite. Here follow a few extracts from my most meagre journal.

Monday, Feb. 10. Worked all the last week without knowing one day where to go the next; yet our earnings, one hundred dollars, exceeded those of any other week this season. The last three days have been unusually delightful,—there has been a something in the air like the first warm summer days at home, when the earth dries, as it were, all at once, and the boys hurry to the ball-ground.

Wednesday, 12. Came home in the middle of the afternoon with only six dollars—found a man who had been buried under a mass of earth in the red bank laid on one of our beds. After he had sufficiently recovered he informed us that when he found himself unable to move, his only anxiety was to tell his wife where to look for his life policy, and the next moment he fell asleep.

Thursday, 13. In a fit of desperation I went to work on our bank—Tertium prospected, and St. John went to try his fortune once more on American Bar. He did so well that I joined him in the afternoon.

Friday. All worked on the bar—made fourteen dollars and a-half.

Monday, Feb. 17. Dr. Ecossais sold his claim in the red bank, together with his tools, for eight hundred and fifty dollars, to a Captain Sampson, who has just come in from the southern mines.

Tuesday. Sold our claim to Dr. Ecossais for fifty dollars. I worked on the bar alone—St. John and Tertium prospected—in vain.

Wednesday. Rain sent us home at ninety buckets. We begin to hope to make something out of our dam, and St. John and I think of remaining till fall. Thus the time for our return continually flies from us.

Friday. A melancholy, lugubrious, opaque morning—rain at a hundred and twenty buckets, and an undecided afternoon.

This it so happened, though we had no such expectation at the time, was our last bank mining in California.

We had sold our claim as above mentioned, not because we believed it to be entirely exhausted, but chiefly from want of patience to contend longer with such a stubborn foe. What the result would have been if the same quantity of rain had fallen as in the preceding winter I can only conjecture, but have no doubt our engineering operation would have been highly profitable. The two seasons, however, were in this respect widely different—the first year it rained according to our observation fully one third of the time from the 1st November to the end of March; while during the second there was hardly as much rain as commonly falls in a New England summer. The weather was also cooler—hoar frosts were frequent—and several mornings we found the ground frozen to the depth of three or four inches.

This scarcity of rain, however, though it interfered so materially with the plan of our winter operations, was full of promise for the approaching summer. The rivers would probably be unusually low; and it was this circumstance that led us, in spite of our former disappointment, to turn once more a favourable eye upon our unlucky dam. As early as the 5th of January I had put up a notice signifying my intention to work the claim the next summer, which Cameron, our bonny Scot, no sooner discovered than he scrawled his own name beneath, and by this characteristic stroke of policy made at once two hundred and fifty dollars. The other members of the company having destroyed their constitution and dispersed in different directions, we anticipated no trouble from that quarter; but we regarded with considerable uneasiness the movements of another party who, seeing the claim abandoned, had also put up a notice, and of an earlier date than my own. As they were already in possession, however, of another claim a mile below the island, and as my having been a member of the Washington Company gave us, in spite of my long neglect, no slight advantage, we determined to maintain our ground, and tore down their notices without further ceremony. Still more to strengthen our hands, we now proposed to form an alliance with two of the principal miners in the red bank, whose numerous retainers would enable us, if need were, to repel force by force. The first, whom we have already mentioned by the name of Capt. Sampson, was a New York Texan, who had patched the cautious calculation of his native State with the sudden enterprise of the frontier. The two tempers had not united—there was the iron and the carbon, but not the steel. He made money and he lost it with equal facility.

Dr. Ecossais was the other, whom we, or rather Capt. Sampson, proposed as a partner in our new enterprise. He had also made money, by keeping a tavern in the village; and he had also lost all he had made, by speculating in dams. He was one of the first to settle on the red bank, where he was now in a fair way to retrieve his losses.

While this important negotiation was still in progress, I went down to San Francisco to attend to certain matters which required our attention. I left Natoma on foot, hoping soon to fall in with a wagon that would carry me to Sacramento, but none overtook me till I had walked more than half the distance. We arrived at Sacramento about noon, and at two I started in the steamer Confidence for San Francisco. An exciting race with the Senator made the first half-hour pass pleasantly enough, but when we at length yielded the palm, and I had gone through the boat and sufficiently admired the fine engravings in the saloon, I became impatient even of twenty miles an hour. My only companion was Dr. Ripsome, with his enamelled dickey, who, having tried both doctoring and digging in vain, was now going to practise his profession at San Francisco. We reached that city about nine, and my companion led me blunderingly to a hotel at the head of Sansome street, where, for the first time since leaving home, I crept in between the snow-white sheets, with an awkwardness that seemed to say that I had no right in such dainty lodgings. An alarm of fire during the night—the ringing of the bells and the hoarse cries of the boys—made me believe myself for a moment at home, but a glance at the bare rafters of my narrow cell soon dispelled that illusion.

San Francisco had not changed so much as Sacramento. The most striking feature was the old hulks lying in the very heart of the city, with streets and houses all about them, and suggesting vague and puzzling analogies to the ark on Mount Ararat.

I saw here a number of my fellow-passengers in the Leucothea, and having obtained a large supply of books and papers, the first of which I bought at the stalls that were to be found at every corner, I returned in the Senator to Sacramento, and the next day to Natoma. I had very unadvisedly taken my blankets with me, and I had now, in addition to this burden, two thick coats, the eighth volume of the Spectator, the first volume of Macaulay's History—both large octavos—and five small volumes of Gil Blas, besides a bundle of papers. I was very glad on reaching Willow Spring to throw my pack into a wagon, and thus lightened I made the rest of my way with tolerable facility.

During my brief absence river stock had rapidly risen, and the prospect for the summer was more favourable than ever. Cameron had agreed to sell his half of the Washington Dam for two hundred and fifty dollars, and my brothers had then disposed of it to Sampson and Ecossais at a slight advance. The next day, however, they refused to complete the purchase, for fear of trouble from some members of the Washington Company, who had at this late hour set up a claim. We walked two or three miles up the river to the place where these unreasonables were at work, to hold a palaver, and if possible effect a compromise; but finding them fixed in their resolution of working on the dam the next summer, we told them they shouldn't, and came home very much discouraged.

Tuesday, March 11, we went to work on the race in order to get the start of our numerous competitors. Cameron at first refused to join us. "You'll lose your share then," said St. John. "I'll chance it," he cried, but finally consented and went. We worked several hours clearing out the canal, which was in many places almost obliterated by the rubbish that had been thrown into it. In the afternoon St. John had a long talk with Capt. Sampson, and represented our superior claims so strongly that he agreed to make the proposed arrangement if Dr. Ecossais would join him.

"We are all inclined to buy out Cameron at all events, but the risk is almost too great. Four p. m., Sampson changes his mind once more and concludes to buy—while we are talking about it, Cameron comes in in his usual hurry—after a little haggling sells for two hundred and fifty dollars—then runs a mile up the river to communicate the intelligence to another party with whom he had about completed a bargain."

Wednesday, we sold one of our remaining shares to a young Missourian for two hundred dollars, and the next day went to work with eight men. The party below having heard of our operations now sent out a small detachment to reconnoitre the ground, and if possible reason us out of the claim. Possession in California is more than nine points of the law, and we paid little heed to their arguments. They had one effect, however, which at the time was rather disheartening—the young Missourian, not having yet paid for his share, was frightened at the first appearance of a storm, and at night quietly removed his tools without saying a word to any one, and we did not discover his defection till the following morning. A few days after, our rivals made us a second visit in larger numbers, accompanied by a famous orator, who endeavoured to persuade us to settle the matter by arbitration. We held a meeting in the evening, and having chosen Capt. Sampson president, and framed a constitution and by-laws, determined unanimously, in our corporate capacity, to make no such concession. The whole red bank was ready to take up arms in our defence, which strengthened our stomachs mightily, but we had no further trouble from any quarter. We continued our labour in the raceway for nearly a week, when a succession of violent rains, that raised the river higher than it had been during the whole winter, interrupted our work, and we were not able to resume it till the last of June.

The 25th of March we left our snug quarters under the bank, our tent interfering with the operations of a New York lawyer behind us, and removed to a point farther up the river and directly opposite the centre of our claim. The place we had now selected was the most delightful and picturesque we occupied in California. Our tent was pitched on the brow of a steep hill that descended at two bounds to the river a hundred feet below. On the south we were protected by a small but leafy oak springing from the base of a huge isolated rock, whose perpendicular sides rose higher than the roof. A numerous and contented family of squirrels had dug their winding burrow under its friendly walls—and we often saw the father or mother scampering over the grass, and the young ones playing before the door. Behind and around us spread the open parklike forest, and in front an immense extent of elevated table land stretching away over to the North Fork. Our river claim, which was very large, comprised three distinct hollows—the upper nearly hidden from sight by a projecting buttress of the hillside, while the second and smallest lay as round as a cup and deep as a well directly at our feet. The river here turning at right angles plunged into this little basin over a fall formed by a bar of the wildest and most cunningly balanced rocks, producing a pleasing murmur, and imparting an air of coolness to the landscape that was indescribably refreshing in the torrid heats of midsummer. On the opposite side of the river was American Island, about a thousand feet in length, with our canal winding round it and occasionally betraying its course by the flashing foam on its surface. With the assistance of some of our neighbours we moved our tent almost bodily to this new location, and at the end of the second day everything was finally arranged to our satisfaction; though a peevish rain that continued the whole week rendered this undertaking anything but agreeable.

A few nights after our removal we were far more seriously annoyed. A violent storm of wind and rain, after keeping us awake for several hours, had at last lulled us to sleep by its ceaseless beating, when we were all at once roused by the lively warning of a rattlesnake in some part of our tent. Communicating our fears to each other by one of those expressive grunts supposed to be characteristic of the North American Indian, but which our experience had shown to be the natural language of all who have lived a long time in the same limited and therefore close communion, we at length succeeded in lighting a candle without venturing on to the floor, and then arming ourselves with long sticks, we took up an advantageous position on bags and boxes and began industriously to stir up the enemy. A small pile of firewood lay near the stove, and in this the unwelcome guest had taken up his abode for the night, and was now apparently busy in warming his toes and fingers. Suddenly his ugly head was thrust waggishly out of a small opening as if to inquire the reason of his being disturbed at such an unseasonable hour—the next moment, being provoked by an ineffectual blow, he made a wide-awake spring that tumbled us all backward upon our beds. Mutually confirming each other's resolution we speedily returned to the attack, and having disabled our antagonist by a lucky thrust we despatched him by repeated blows. He measured nearly five feet in length—was as big as a man's arm—and had eleven rattles. I afterwards while hunting in the neighbourhood encountered and shot two others, neither of them, however, so large as the first. Snakes of a different species, and apparently harmless, were far more numerous—the big rock that overhung our tent was their favourite resort, and I often saw them gliding among the crevices or lying motionless in watch for some unlucky lizard.

The 1st of May, Tertium left us to return home. We had already sold two of our shares to miners on the red bank, reserving only one apiece; and as his could be worked to almost equal advantage by hired labour, and nothing could be done at present, he could no longer resist the temptation to anticipate the time fixed upon for our return. The prospect was at this time far from encouraging. The rain, which had kept off all winter, had now come in earnest, so that the time of commencing our operations seemed farther off than ever. Furthermore, our claim was considered by nearly all the miners in the neighbourhood absolutely worthless, and we were made the laughing-stock of the whole river. Yet under all these adverse circumstances the price of shares had steadily advanced, and our hopes were insensibly borne onward by the swelling tide. When we had first put up our notice signifying our intention to rebuild the dam, we had offered the whole concern for three hundred dollars. A month afterwards, we would gladly have sold for fifty dollars a share. Even so late as March, Number Four, to whom we proposed a partnership, was unwilling to give one hundred dollars, but now a share could not be bought for less than four hundred.

In the mean time our days passed pleasantly in reading the books I had brought from San Francisco, and in roaming at will through those fresh and untamed solitudes. Every morning after breakfast, says my journal of May 24, we take our guns, both double-barrelled—St. John hangs a dirty game bag round his neck—we fasten the tent with an ingenious catch of T.'s invention, and away into the woods. If game is scarce, there is a fine opportunity for revery and castle building, or from the top of one of the many hills we enjoy a vast and dreamy prospect. Sometimes we get separated from each other and imagine all kinds of accidents. After our return, while enjoying, with a hunter's relish, the quail and pigeons or hares and squirrels we have conquered, we recount all the incidents of our morning's sport, the stratagems we have employed, and the mishaps we have met with.

There is perhaps no country in the world more delightful for such rambles than that part of California. There is such a pleasing variety of hill and valley—the trees are arranged with such perfection of art that one is continually led on from one point to another without knowing when to stop; while the absence of all natural or artificial obstructions, such as fences or tangled underbrush, communicates a feeling of most entire liberty and independence. I have wandered thus for miles without encountering any human thing, except, now and then, a deserted roofless cabin standing in some lonely ravine, or the white tents seen miles away among the woods.

Often, especially in misty weather, I climbed to the summit of a lofty hill several miles from our camp, and, resting upon a projecting crag, seemed for a while to lose myself in the great soul of the universe. "The grandeur, the astonishing melancholy of that picture, cannot be expressed in human language. In vain in our cultivated fields the imagination seeks to extend itself—it encounters on all sides the habitations of men; but in those wild countries the soul delights to plunge itself into an ocean of forests; to alight on the mysterious summits of the distant mountains; and, so to speak, to find itself alone with God."

The game that we found in greatest abundance was the quail that were now leading forth exultingly their timid young. Their flesh, however, was dry and tasteless compared with that of the pigeon, which was as juicy as the nicest steak. Besides the moaning dove already mentioned, and which was no bigger than a lark, there were three distinct varieties of pigeon, the largest of which was fully equal in size to the crow. The squirrels also attained an unusual size, one that we shot measuring twenty-seven inches from the end of his nose to the tip of his tail, and their flesh furnished us with many a savoury stew.

Our attention was one day attracted by a great commotion in a little thicket near which we were passing. On coming nearer to ascertain the cause, we discovered an owl that had tarried too long at the night's banquet, and was now surrounded by a crowd of noisy chatterers, like the unfeeling persecutors that hedge the way of the luckless toper who has continued all night over his cups. Anxious, if possible, to secure him alive, I advanced slowly till within about thirty yards, and fired. He fluttered feebly a few feet to a log on which he was compelled to alight, when I ran up and hastily extinguished him with my hat. On taking him out I found, to my amazement, that he had shrunk from the size of a hen to be no bigger than a pigeon, the downy texture of his feathers and his immense wings having caused the illusion. He seemed at first quite unwell, but recovered soon after my reaching home, and having tied a stout cord round his leg, I placed him on the ground to observe him more carefully. He was very gaily drest in bright yellow and ash, and, as if to display his attractions to the utmost, again swelled out his feathers, and expanding his wings stood looking us straight in the face, and teetering slowly from one foot to the other in a manner evidently intended to be in the highest degree dignified and imposing. His beauty, however, was somewhat marred by large yellow eyes that resembled those of the cat, and had moreover a most uncompromising squint. Two small tufts of feathers on the top of his head, shaped like the ears of a cat, completed the resemblance, and added still more to the grotesque of what Dr. Browne would have called his tootin cymbal; so that it may be doubted if a more purely comic character ever existed. I kept him a week, but as he firmly refused to eat during all that time, and I was ignorant of the art of stuffing, I felt constrained to give him his liberty. He floated away on his ash-coloured wings, as large as those of a goose, without any apparent effort, like a gossamer or soap-bubble, and we saw him several hours after again surrounded by his officious satellites.

We sometimes in our rambles encountered less agreeable objects. St. John was wandering one dull drizzly day, with his gun on his shoulder, on the further side of a distant mountain, when he suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes as bright as burning glasses glaring upon him from behind a tall gray bush. He at first thought some wild animal lay there in ambush, but looking lower he detected beneath the eyes a pair of naked copper legs that could belong to no animal in the world except an Indian; and at the same moment he felt with his eyes the sharp point of a flint-headed arrow projecting through an opening between the branches.

Wisely concluding that to run would be useless, he banished all appearance of uneasiness, and advanced boldly towards the treacherous bush, when the eyes, and copper legs, and flint-headed arrow, and three other Indians he had not observed, stept out and confronted him. They were ill-looking fellows as one would wish to meet alone and miles from any habitation, and all carried in their hands villainous bows and arrows, which the string of birds and squirrels hanging at their backs showed that they knew full well how to use. Their monstrous heads, covered with a thick thatch of long black hair, and mounted on dwarfish bodies and distorted limbs, gave them a peculiarly inhuman and impish aspect, which their threatening demeanour was in no wise calculated to diminish. Crowding round St. John they assailed him with an unintelligible gibberish of Indian and Spanish, intermingled with a few words of English, that, together with their signs, gave him to understand that he must surrender his gun or they would make a prickly porcupine of him quicker than he could say Jack Robinson. Such spinous honors, however, were anything but agreeable, and making a sudden spring backward he presented his rifle at the foremost and biggest, ordering them all with a stern countenance to keep a proper distance. They understood the action if not the words, and instantly huddling together sought to screen themselves behind each other, while St. John, slowly retiring backward and still keeping his eye and his rifle upon the enemy, reached at length a large rock, behind which he cunningly withdrew, and then taking to his heels he never stopt running till he came in sight of a tent on our side of the mountain. I am inclined, however, to the opinion that the copper rascals only wanted to make game of him, not in the way above hinted at, but in a more innocent fashion, inasmuch as there was no instance of any outrage committed by them in those parts, where the numerous settlements imposed upon them a salutary dread.