PHYSICIAN.

NO. III.

"Man never is, but always to be blest." We are often disappointed in the fruition of our most ardent anticipations, for our pictures of future happiness are far too beautiful and brilliant to be realized; and the heart is best satisfied seeking treasures it never enjoys.

It would be far better for man, if he would stop to enjoy the present; but ill at ease, and not satisfied with the comforts about him, he looks a "little beyond" to the Archimedean stand-point, where brighter prospects spring up before him; and in his haste to reach some ideal court, with gilded corridors and garden walks, where fairy feet have trod, he kills the goose that daily laid its golden egg, and then awakens only to behold, too late, his folly, and sadly to lament the untimely death of his noble and generous bird. Such, at least, has been my experience in my search for gold. While at Nevada, I was in the vicinity of the richest placers in the State; but news came to our company, (with a pledge of secresy on our part), that far richer discoveries had been made a little farther on-somewhere on the South Yuba, and of course I was ambitious to be first in the new field of discovery, and in a few days arrangements were made to follow the ignis fatuus to the promised treasure, and had it been located a "little beyond" some unknown region, either in Heaven or where good parsons tell us the wicked go, I presume I should have been none too wise to have followed the golden phantom.

Away with your philosophy-away with your omnia vitæ ex ovo, and your nucleated-cell-theory of organic development, for I was not developed in any such an arbitrary manner, but early in my life the mystic wand of the hero's god pointed to the goal of my future greatness, and my guardian angel has since been whispering in my ear-"weaving delu

It told me I was born for a hero, and I felt it, though I have often wished some power to "strike the electric chain, wherewith I am darkly bound," and set me forever free. But excuse this Quixotic prelude, and we'll again to the "adventure."

On the first of February, 1850, I left Nevada with my very excellent friend, Charley, and four others each with a pack upon his shoulders, weighing from twenty to forty pounds, besides his bedding, for such was the prevailing custom in those days that a man was considered insane who traveled without taking his bed along with him; thus, in native style, we trudged along in single file, following an almost indistinct Indian trail over and around several high hills, across many rapid streams on fallen trees, that stretched from bank to bank, and before night found ourselves traveling upon the hard crusted snow. We continued our way until night came on, when we halted, consulted a moment together, then laid aside our packs and commenced digging a long trench in the snow beside an old cedar, which gave evidence of having been blown down many years before. This being done, we managed to build a fire in our snow-house-melted snow enough to make coffee, which we took with our raw pork and sailor's bread, with good relish. Then, laying down a thick carpet of pine leaves in the trench we had dug, we spread out our blankets and turned in for the night, regardless of the danger which surrounded us. There, nestled together, quite hidden from the wind, and with our feet towards the fire, which by this time had caught the dead tree, we slept soundly and awoke fresh for our journey the next day. It was snowing when we got up, so we took a hasty repast and hurried on, and at three o'clock, P. M., arrived at a point on the southern slope of the mountain, where we determined to spend the remainder of the winter. One little cabin stood near,

scarce large enough for two persons, which was the home of the pioneers of this new and vastly rich discovery.

The ground was covered with about three inches of damp snow; the dark clouds hung heavy about the mountains; the majestic pines waved to and fro their stately heads in mournful silence, while the deep moaning of the wind gave warning that a fearful storm was hovering about us. How gloomy and sad was the hour! A sickening melancholy came over me; such as feeling alone makes description's self, while words sink back upon the faltering tongue, too feeble to convey the meaning; and I felt as if that part of the earth was but half made up, and that Heaven was sighing and weeping over the deformity.

It was but for a few moments I allowed these feeling to weigh heavily upon me; for cold and damp as I was, I felt it necessary to bestir myself. So taking an axe, I went to felling trees with the rest of the company, and so merrily did we all work that in two hours we had the frame work of a log house erected and covered with pine limbs, in such a manner as to afford a fair shelter from the storm. The damp earth was then thrown out of a little hole we called a door, and pine leaves spread down to protect our blankets from the dirt; then a fire was built in one corner, tea made, supper over, and we began to prepare for retiring, when one of our neighbors peeped in and kindly invited me to spend the night with him, assuring me his place was dry and far more comfortable than my own. After asking my companions if one of them would not like to go (for I did not like to be selfish), I accepted his kind invitation; but when I learned that three others were to occupy this dogkennel of a hut, I secretly repented, though unwilling to give any signs of my dissatisfaction, for I hoped to mix in some oblivious manner with the various hombres; that the memories of the day and the cares of the morrow might soon end in happy dreams. While sitting upon

our haunches, with our hands firmly clasped below the knees, we managed well, but when we came to lie down, there was not room for more than two pairs of legs to lie straight; consequently one of the men ran his feet up chimney, and elevated his body in such a manner as to make me fearfully apprehensive for his safety, lest his brains should all run into his head, as Mrs. Partington said of Ike. Not willing to incur a like danger, I coolly thrust my phalangeal extremities through an aperture, and in a short time they were buried beneath the drifting snow without.

But here an incident occurred that disturbed our arrangements. Just as the waters of Lethe were rippling over my lids and lulling me into sweet forgetfulness, the accumulated snow upon the tender roof caused it to fall in upon us, and rob us of the intended repose. Ah! thought I, if I had an Inca's wealth, no dire obtrusion would be made upon my slumbers; for

"Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep;
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles-the wretched he forsakes;
Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear!"

Many and bitter were the complaints, and more than once I thought of returning to my own camp; but pride forbade me doing so. We groped about in the darkness and storm a long time, but finally succeeded in repairing the roof, and again retired.

The sombre hours of night glided lazily into the more welcome hours of morning, until the cycle was completed; when a vague joy "came o'er the spirit of my dreams," and I hastened to join my own party; rather delighted that the night had been thus passed, for the incidents seemed happily cuneiform, and just adapted to fill up the little vacuum that otherwise would have rendered my adventures incomplete.

I found George snoring, Smith smoking, Jim preparing to cook breakfast, while Charley was industriously at work topping out the chimney. (This spirit

of industry has made him one of the wealthiest merchants now in the city of San Francisco.) My adventure was soon told. A hearty laugh burst from all hands, except George, who seemed peculiarly to enjoy his snoring propensities. In short, he was one of Cæsar's men"sleek-headed, such as sleep o'nights"; and, with all the pathos of a Sancho Panza, could exclaim, even from the depth of his great coat and woolen shirt, "Blessed is the man who first invented sleep!"

The day was spent filling up the spaces between the logs, and when night came we found ourselves securely protected from the wind and snow; and once more a melancholy joy filled my bosom, as I looked out upon the darkness, and listened to the howling winds, and the roaring waters of the swollen river.

"O! there is joy in grief, when peace dwells in the bosom of the sad." Thus I felt in my silent meditations, though I breathed not a complaint, nor seemed to care for any thing about me. I was stoical in my manner, yet in my heart nearly softened to tears. How little do we know of the world of thoughts that are hovering about our friends, and vibrating impressions of joy or grief upon the inner tablets of the soul. The eye may be dimmed with the tear of affliction, or the warm blood may flush the cheek as the tell-tale messenger of love's inmost dwelling, and yet but ill-bespeak the depth of true and earnest feeling. This is no fiction, but the experience of life.

spent in hunting during the first few weeks. On one occasion, as I had strayed several miles from camp in my chase af ter a deer, which several times had come nearly within shot, I heard a crackling among the thick underbrush, and thinking I should then get a shot at him, I crawled along among the bushes, the better to conceal myself; when suddenly a huge grizzly rose upon his hind feet before me. We eyed each other a few moments, apparently in mutual suspense, when I "drew a bead" upon him; but the ball struck upon his grizzly hide, and glanced off. Stung, but not otherwise hurt, he became enraged, making the mountains echo with his hoarse and savage growl.

Deeming "prudence the better part of valor," I made a hasty retreat through the tangled bushes, closely pursued by old Bruin, and climbed the nearest tree, leaving my gun standing by its side; but had scarcely got beyond his reach, when he seized it, as by instinct, and threw it with such force as to break the stock and bend the barrel. Then raising himself upon his hind legs with the quickness of a cat, he caught the limb on which I was standing, and pulled it to the ground; and had I not had a firm grasp upon the limb above me, I might not have been spared to write this narrative. He now seemed satisfied I was beyond his reach; and after scratching the bark from the tree to the height of several feet, he commenced gnawing at the body, then digging at the roots-occasionally looking up to watch my movements. -meanwhile, manifesting no little anxiety for my safety.

Finally, walking around the tree several times to satisfy himself that the task of gnawing or digging it up was too great to undertake, he walked away a few paces and laid down-never, however, losing sight of me for a moment. Night was coming on, and I felt I must prepare for the emergency, so taking my handkerchief I tied myself to the tree expect

limb, like a turkey, instead of sleeping like a man. Cold and benumbed in my silent roosting place, I longed for some one to come to my rescue; and how willing I felt to be forgiven for all past offenses, provided any accident should befall me. However, before dark I had the satisfaction of seeing my enemy slowly moving away. I watched his movements with almost breathless anxiety until he was quite out of sight, when I hastened down and hurried home to camp, where I arrived late at night, resolved never again to attack a grizzly single handed— and I have kept my promise.

After my encounter with old Bruin, I lost my zeal, and grew weary of hunting; and being tired of the monotonous life of eating and sleeping, with apparently no higher purpose in life than that, which justly belongs to the herbiverous and ruminating animal, I used frequently to go to the top of the mountains, and amuse myself rolling large stones down the slope-listening to the crackling of the bushes and the falling of small trees that happened in the way, until the sound was slowly echoed back by the surrounding hills.

When I became tired of this amusement, I climbed to the highest point of some jagged cliff, and sat for hours contemplating the grandeur and sublimity of the scenery. These were my happiest hours, and awakened in my bosom feelings of heavenly quiet; recalling the fondest remembrances of the scenery about Centre Harbor and the White Mountains, and the many sunny hills of New England, where in my boyhood's days I used to play.

On the first of March, it was proposed I should go to Nevada and get the letters which we all expected, and pack fifty pounds of flour on my back when I returned; thus making a lively application of the old motto, "kill two birds with one stone."

The suggestion pleased me, for I thought any thing for a change to be far preferable to the automatic round of every-day

life, where waiting for and not receiving was the constant employment of us all, and where there were no books or papers to read, to while away the lonesome hours. Though in poetry there are, sometimes "Lessons in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing," yet in experience this is far from true.

Early in the morning I left, accompanied by Jim, who volunteered to go along. Following down the river-scrambling over ledges, and jumping from point to point of the projecting rocks-we soon came to the crossing; which was made by felling two young trees, one on each side of the river, and which rested on a ledge in the middle, about ten feet above low water. We sat astride of these logs, and hitched ourselves along upon our hands, much like school-boys at a game of "leap-frog;" and in a few moments we were again on terra firma at the opposite side of the river. We then ascended the mountain, and following the old trail through the woods, up and down tedious hills, and through deep ravines, we reach ed the camp of Mr. P..., one half mile from Nevada, just at sunset; having walked twenty-five miles in nine hours. Here we were cordially received; a warm supper was set before us, and an invitation given to spend the night, which I need not say was accepted.

After resting a while, we went to town and obtained our letters, and several for the boys at the camp. What pleasure a letter afforded us in those days! I quickly scanned the contents of mine, and treasured up all the items of love, murder, marriage, births, and deaths, to be talked about for many days after I returned to camp. We here heard that Mr. B... had just purchased our old claim on "Gold Run," (which we left for richer diggings "a little beyond,") for which he gave ten thousand dollars. When I heard this, my heart grew sick, and I felt we had sacrificed much to gain little-as it afterwards proved.

We soon made a purchase of flour, returned to our friend P.'s and spent the

night. He had no beds in his cabin, but he kindly offered me his bunk; which I, however, declined-choosing to sleep upon the ground with my feet to the fire, rather than obtrude too much upon his generosity.

We rose early next morning, and to our great discomfort found it had been snowing during the night, and was then raining. We had no time to lose; so, taking a hearty breakfast, we each packed a sack of flour upon our shoulders. Besides this, my friend took a jack-plane, a jointer, and a hand-saw; while in addition to my sack of flour, I took about ten pounds of broken sea-bread, and a two-quart jug of "Old Monon.," at the earnest suggestion of my friends, of course, and which they assured me was a sure preventive to colds and fatigue.

Thus equipped we left, with the rain falling upon our backs, and the slush of snow under our feet; but we had not gone far before the rain turned to snow, which increased rapidly in depth, until all trace of a path was obliterated, and frequently we found ourselves in drifts three feet deep.

We had scarcely advanced one-half of our distancǝ towards home, when my companion became suddenly ill, and sat down to rest. Here I administered a little of my panacea, not forgetting to try it myself; and not knowing but it might harm me, I took a little twice as we are told medicines act adversely upon the human system as the dose is diminished. I then went forward, beat down the snow, and encouraged my companion to advance; and I thus continued to tread the snow before him for three hours or more, when I became nearly exhausted, and was glad to stop a few moments to rest. Suddenly, as if heaven and earth had collapsed, it became dark, and the storm increased in that severe manner which can best be appreciated by those who have been in a snow-storm on the Nevadas. To say it was dark, and the wind

howled among the tall pines, would give but a vague idea of the raging elements, and the gloominess of that hour.

My companion became still more disheartened, and insisted upon lying down in the snow to spend the night, cold and wet as he was, rather than make further efforts to reach some human habitation, where a more grateful shelter could be enjoyed; and it required all my energies and remonstrances to dissuade him from such a foolish and dangerous resolve. Being now obliged to grope my way in the dark, the points of the compass soon became confused in my mind, and I knew not in what direction I was traveling; yet my heart failed me not, and I resolved to keep moving.

In such an emergency one requires a stout heart, and a truer courage than that of the brave school-boy, who goes whistling by some lone church-yard, with his ears open to catch the slightest sound, and one eye turned over his shoulder to see if some goblin is not skulking behind the dilapidated tomb-stones. Though I do not boast of courage that finds no comparison, I was nevertheless determined to surmount every obstacle; believing that to a great extent what man wills man may perform.

After wandering about several hoursoften finding myself brought to a sudden stand-still, by coming in contact with large trees; at other times stumbling over logs, or sinkingdeep into the snow, I fortunately discovered the faint light from a fire far down the mountain. Following the direction of the light, at ten o'clock I found myself and companion in the tent of an American, a true white man-who had retired to rest, regardless of the fearful storm about him. Our story was soon told. He got up; baked us a cake, and made some coffee, of which we eagerly partook with grateful hearts. He then furnished us with blankets, which we wrapped around us, and laid down,