of getting a good claim. I have diggings some distance from here, and I think they are rich; no one knows of them besides my company, and one other man, who discovered them in company with us; he is an old mountaineer." "What! old mountaineer, did you say-tall man-long hair-tushers -chews tobacco-Gingerly! is that his name?" "That's the very man," rejoined the stranger. "Good gracious! is it possible!" said we, and all made a grasp for his hand, "'tis the very man we are after." "Three cheers for old Gingerly," shouted the Col. "The old woman you mean," suggested our little Captain. The Col. blushed but did'nt cheer. Then we entered into explanations, and told our new friendwhose name, as he informed us, was Underwood the whole story, and agreed to be ready to go with him that night-to leave in the night," he said, "was necessary, to prevent being tracked." He also told us that had we kept along the ridge instead of coming down the hill, we would have overtaken old Gingerly "but never mind," said he, "you are only a day or two behind, and 'twill end just as well." Upon our return to the Bar we were fortunate enough to find a pack-train, which had just come in from the "Forks," and which we at once engaged to transfer our "traps" to the place of our destination, wherever that might be. Night had drawn down her thickest mantle, and the denizens of Foster's Bar were slumbering-dreaming perhaps of golden nuggets and two ounce diggings-perchance of homebut little did they dream of an expedition starting out for secret diggings while they slumbered. We made our exit from the Bar at a point nearly opposite to that of our entree. There was no beaten path, not even a trail, to guide us up the hill, but "Underwood" acted as pilot, and, taking the bearings of two or three stars, he led off while we followed. It has always been my impression that I tumbled up that hill. I know that I was stumbling most of the time, and once or twice came very near going back to the Bar, by an entirely new route-rapid but not safe. Having surmounted the hill we went on quite rapidly 'till near day, and then camped. About noon of the second day after leaving the Bar we struck snow, and soon found ourselves traveling over what appeared to be a vast prairie covered with snow, and very hard traveling it was, as the snow was soft, and every step plunged us to the knee; we became thirsty, and eating snow only increased our thirst-the perspiration rolled from us in big drops, and, as for myself, it seemed as if every step would be my last; but night was coming on, and we were anxious to reach a growth of timber a few miles distant. A column of smoke rising above the trees inspired us with fresh courage, and we plodded on. Upon entering the grove the cheerful blaze of a camp-fire, glimmering on ahead, was just discernible; with light hearts we hurried towards it. There was a wagon, and beside the fire a man, and-yes! by all that's good-a woman! "Tis needless to say that we had found them. The old lady welcomed us warmly, but her partner looked very savage, and masticated tobacco at a fearful rate, nor would he grant us even a nod of recognition. We flattered ourselves that he would be in better humor by morning, and go on with us, but morning brought no change; he then swore "he would not budge an inch 'till after we had gone," and so we went without him. After traveling some eight miles further we came to a spot upon the mountain free from snow, and here "Underwood" told us we had better stop and make this peak our head-quarters, for it was as near to the creek as we could get with mules. This place we named "Pine Peak," and it was our home for two months. We took up a claim upon the creek; but the water was too high for us to be able to do anything, and so we lived upon the Peak; making out from that place on frequent prospecting tours, in every direction. The first Sunday morning after our settlement on the Peak, the Col. started out for a small walk, and was gone all day; when he returned he said that he had been down to where we left old Gingerly. He found the old lady still there, with the wagon. She was very much dissatisfied, and regretted having left Marysville. The old man, she said, told her that "Slate Creek was no great shakes anyhow, and that we were welcome to all we could make out of it "as for him, "he knew what he was about," and, at that time, was out "somewheres," hunting for something. It might have been three weeks after the Col.'s walk, when, as I sat keeping camp, and trying to amuse myself by doing a little patch-work, I heard footsteps approaching; and upon looking out of the tent my vision was greeted by the sight of that remarkable phiz attached to old Gingerly's person. "Where's the Col. ?" said he. "Out prospecting." "When will he be back?" "Can't say." "The old woman want's to see him." "Where is she?" "Out here, about three quarters." "I'll go and see her." her shoulders was drawn an old dingy red shawl, and upon her head she wore a green sun-bonnet of extraordinary large dimensions, from the front of which was visible her large round face, covered profusely with blushes. I think this was one of the most picturesque and refreshing incidents that I ever met with in the mines, and could that young man on the Bar have shared it with me, I am confident that he could have gone on another eighteen months very comfortably. "I am sorry," said the good woman, when I had climbed upon the wagon wheel so as to be somewhere near her, and after the old man had left us, "I am sorry that the Col. has gone away; I wished to speak with him, but perhaps you will do as well. I don't know," she continued, "what the intentions of the old man are; he says that he has discovered something about twelve miles from here, but I have lost all confidence in him. I must go with him; I cannot help myself now. I have a favor to ask of you-it is this: if you do not hear from us within five days, I want you and the other boys to come over, to follow the wagon ruts on the snow and find us; I may need your assistance. Will you promise me that?” Were it not for the great respect I "Yes, certainly, whatever assistance I ever entertained for the sensitive na- can render you shall be given cheerture of females, I should have laughed fully, and, in speaking for myself, I when I beheld Mrs. G. She was know that I but utter the sentiments mounted upon a very tall horse, with a of my partners." "Well, now I shall very broad back-he appeared to be a feel more contented; I thank you very very gentle sort of a horse, and to have much, and, if it be possible, I will send passed the centre of life. Upon his the old man over to tell you where we back sat Mrs. G., not in the manner are, and what we are doing; but if you you would expect to see a lady, but in, do not hear from us do not fail to an abortive attempt to sit astride. Mrs. come." "Hallo, there! I'm going to G., to use a homely expression, was start," was the rough salutation that short and fat, and, owing to the extreme next greeted my ear. I jumped from brevity of her limbs," and the im- the wheel, and, at Mrs. G.'s request, mense breadth of the horse, her "ex-led her horse for a short distance, for, tremities," in this attempt to ride, stuck as she remarked, "'tis rather hard to out on a line but slightly deviating get him started, but once started he from the horizontal; her dress was follows the wagon very well.” more appropriate for walking than riding, and rather more of the aforesaid extremities were exposed than was proper for a young man to see; over Upon the return of my partners I reported proceedings during their absence. The stipulated five days passed, and, hearing nothing, we rolled a few days' grub in our blankets and started | are dwarfed by the snow-drifts gathered out, and found no difficulty in following round them; not a branch, nor leaf, the wagon tracks, for they were all that nor twig but wears an icy coat of mail; marked the hitherto unbroken surface the sky you cannot often see, for the of the snow. For a time our road was very air is white with snow. through the timber, and then we came out upon the "Bald Hills," where one of the most beautiful spectacles was presented that it was ever my good fortune to witness. Far as the eye could reach was naught but snow, snow, snow-every rough and jagged mountain peak, far and near, was clothed with glaziers, which reflected back the sun-rays, making those peaks to sparkle in their lonely glory brilliant as castles built of diamonds. The track led us to the extreme verge of a ridge, and here, far below us, was spread out the panorama of a valley. If we admired those ice-bound sparkling cliffs, rising from a field of white, and leaning against the bright blue sky, we found no less to admire here in Grass Valley. I have seen it in the spring, and in the winter-in the spring, when the snow was melted from off the bottom, leaving the mountains which form its walls still covered. I always likened it to a vast cathedral-one of nature's temples-I know of no better simile. Here and there, scattered throughout the valley, and upon the mountain sides, huge and stately pines stretched their tapering trunks far, far upwards, as if supporters to the roof. Through the centre of the valley a lovely sheet of water wends its placid way in silence, and not a ripple breaks upon its surface. Where was ever temple more beautiful? Carpeted with the brightest green-walls of the purest white the blue arched sky the roof, supported by tapering columns decked with evergreens. And then the baptismal font-that crystal stream, pure, clear, calm, and beautiful as a maiden's brow ere any thought of care or sorrow hath marred it with a line. What! more beautiful? But in winter the scene changes: the carpet then is of pure white; the little stream is bridged with ice and snow; those grand trees But without further digression, here, in Grass Valley, we found Mrs. Gingerly, the sole occupant of a tent pitched beside the wagon. "The old man," said she, "went away the day after our arrival here, and he may be back at any time." Scarcely had an hour passed when we saw the figure of a man rapidly approaching us, and who we had no difficulty in recognizing as old Gingerly. Upon reaching camp he embraced Mrs. G.-displaying much more affection than I thought him capable of-shook hands with us all round three or four times-again embraced Mrs. G.-sounded the war whoop-cut several pigeon-wings- attempted to turn a somerset, and fell down. He's mad! whispered the Col. Mad! Mad! whispered we all. "Yes, mad with joy!" shouted the old man. "I've found it! The richest place in California." Gold by the pound-gold by the bucket-all gold! Hurah for old Nelson. Go to your camp, boys, pack up your "plunder," bring it over, and we're off to "Nelson Creek." Now we had none too much confidence in the old man, at best, and after this exuberance, entertained in reality some doubts regarding his sanity. It was much easier to say "pack up your plunder and bring it over," than to do it, as we had a good wagon load, and no wagon, or, in fact, any mode of conveyance but our backs, which were quite unequal to the task. After a short consultation it was decided that the Col. should go with him, and we return to Pine Peak; and should the Col., upon his return, report favorably, we would then invent some way to take our "plunder" down there. For two weeks did we anxiously await the return of the Col., then becoming alarmed at his long absence, determined to make a trip to the Valley. We were just about to start when he made his appearance, very much exhausted, and but little disposed to answer our inquiries regarding Nelson Creek-he laconically replied "humbug." "Then we had better move down to our claim on Slate Creek, and commence the dam?" "Yes." Down upon the claim we went, where a great deal of time and hard labor was uselessly expended. For several weeks previous to the completion of our dam, people were continually coming down the hill, crossing the creek just above us, and ascending on the other side. At this we were much surprised, and upon inquiring learned that they came from the "Forks of the Yuba," and were bound for Nelson Creek. Wishing to be of some service to our fellowmen, we stopped all that we could, and advised them to return to the "Forks," telling them that we had been to Nelson's, and it was a "humbug;" but not a single man could we induce to turn back, and we were yet more surprised to find that none came back. Having finished our dam, turned the creek, and made the unhappy discovery that the "bed-rock" was "destitute of gravel," and that the "crevices pitched down stream," we shouldered our blankets, and started out for Nelson's, via Grass Valley. The Col. desiring to go no further than the Valley, we left him there and proceeded on. At the Creek we found every inch of ground claimed, and every claim paying handsomely. Here we learned that old Gingerly, when at Marysville, had been offered fourteen thousand dollars to find a route by which the emigration, by way of Noble's Pass, could come into that place; and we also learned that the old man having offered the Col. half to assist him, they, instead of prospecting Nelson's Creek, crossed it and prospected the mountains above for a wagon road. We returned to the Valley, had a quarrel with the Colonel, hired mules, went to Slate Creek, packed our pro visions and household goods over to the Valley, sold them, and disbanded the company. The Colonel started a little grocery in the Valley, my other partners returned to Marysville, and I, joining another company, went further into the mountains, was fortunate enough to have a "streak of luck" and "strike a good thing." The Later in the fall I passed again. through Grass Valley, on my way to San Francisco. This time, I found that Gingerly had erected a log house, and that Mrs. Gingerly "furnished meals to strangers.' The old man amused himself by acting as guide to such as desired his services. The following, I learned, was a common practice with that gentleman: He had in his possession several very fine specimens of pure gold-the same, probably, that were used to entice Mrs. G. from Marysville. These he represented to new comers as from secret diggings of his own, and would stipulate, providing they would make up a party of eight or ten, to guide them to the place for the sum of fifty dollars each. party made up, and the cash paid down, they would start out; but, their guide entertaining an aversion to highways and beaten paths, would lead them through immense fields of chapparel, up and down the roughest and most abrupt mountains, and by altering his course each day, would, in less than a month's time, manage to lose them; and, leaving them lost amid the mountain wilds, return to the valley. When these unfortunate men, exhausted, nearly famished, and almost destitute of clothing, came straggling in, he would be out with another party, and thus far managed to elude for the time that punishment he so justly deserved, and surely would have received, could those men have met him. The spring following, I met my old partner, the Colonel, in San Francisco, and from him I learned that Old Gingerly, with his blankets upon his back, started out one morning alone, intending to go to some place over the mountain. He was never seen or heard of afterwards. He probably perished on the mountain-how, when, or where, was never known. He probably lost himself as he lost others, and famished; he may have fallen a victim to the carnivorous appetites of wild beasts; or, perhaps some of those whom he had so cruelly deceived and led astray, may have satiated a wish for revenge, by taking the old man's life: but very certain it is, he has never yet "turned up." Mrs. Gingerly remained in Grass Valley some two months after his last departure, and having such good cause to believe herself again a widow, sold out her establishment, closed up the business of Gingerly & Co., and repaired to San Francisco: and being thoroughly disgusted with life in California, engaged passage on the first steamer bound out, and in due time was landed safely in New York. And in some portion of that State she now resides, living contentedly among old friends, and frequently, during the long winter evenings, enlivens the fireside by the recital of her adventures and the doings of Gingerly & Co. in the mountains of California. Others the said committee had to banish; In other cities for fresh crimes, like Spanish VIII. I'll change my subject-for this epic poem, Or, "not an epic," which I meant to say; have no hero chosen, in my proem, I should have told you, that for every day, I certainly was lame in the omission, IX. These daily heroes though are only supes, |