Class _JLjiXi 
 Book.^ 1 
 
 %riglit]^^___________ 
 
 COFffilGHT DEPOSm 
 
Limited edition of tivo hwidred copies, 
 
 printed upon hand-set type, and the 
 
 type distiibuted. This copy is 
 
 No. 
 
NARRATIVE 
 
 of 
 
 EDWARD McGOWAN 
 
 INCLUDING a FULL ACCOUNT of the 
 AUTHOR'S ADVENTURES and PERILS 
 
 ^hile Persecuted by the SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 "Vigilance Committee of 1856 
 
 Together n.vith a 
 
 REPORT o/His TRIAL, Which 
 Resulted iti His ACQUITTAL 
 
 JRcprinteb 
 
 Line for Line and Page for Page, from the Original Edition, Published 
 
 by the Author in 1857, Complete, with Reproductions, in Facsimile, of 
 
 the Original Illustrations, Cover-page Title, and Title-page 
 
 ^an jfrancisico, California 
 
 Printed by THOMAS C. RUSSELL, at His Private Press 
 1734 Nineteenth Avenue, Sunset 
 
 1917 
 

 Copyright, 1917 
 By Thomas C. Russell 
 
 €)CI.A479783 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 DEC 22 1917 
 
To 
 J. HENRY MEYER 
 
 JSanbrr 
 
 of 
 Sax Francisco 
 
 This Reprint Edition of the Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 IS Respectu'li.v 
 
 Bebicateb 
 
 hy 
 
 The Printer & Publisher 
 

 PORE WORD 
 TO THE REPRINT EDITION 
 
 The Narrative of Edward McGowan needs no introduction, 
 or foreword: it is so well known to collectors of Californiana, and 
 to old Californians, especially San Franciscans, that all that is neces- 
 cessary to be stated in presenting a new edition thereof is, what has 
 been done by the printer and publisher in the reprinting. 
 
 No attempt was made to edit the work, nor was there any dispo- 
 sition to do so, or to make any changes from the original. Most of 
 the problems arising during the reprinting, where apparent inaccura- 
 cies were met, were solved on the instant, without looking forward 
 for parallel instances, fearful that a Scylla avoided on one page might 
 be succeeded by a Charybdis on another, the line-for-line limitation 
 precluding the correction of many of such typographical errors. 
 
 A preference was expressed by several persons interested in the 
 publication of the book, for a reprinting "exactly as McGowan wrote 
 it. " This could not be done. Evidence is abundant that McGowan' s 
 copy underwent compositorial editing, or that of the proof-reader, — 
 a common practice, and one not always making for betterment, as 
 many a writer has found to his sorrow. On page 69 we find this 
 phraseology: the "sweeper out of Everett's hatter's shop in Clay 
 street." McGowan, of course, did not write this phrase: it is redo- 
 lent of Bow-bells; its cockneyism is apparent. The work of the com- 
 positor guilty of this change can be traced throughout the book. The 
 other "compositors" were of the "woods-and-templed-hills " order, 
 or had gleaned a knowledge of type in some "Tar Flat joint." No 
 indications are there of that "sweeping superficial knowledge" sup- 
 posed to be possessed by the old-time book-printer. Thus it is that 
 the disposition to make no changes lost its restraining curb as the 
 work progressed, and typographical inaccuracies were corrected in 
 many instances. Hispano-Californian place-names, family names, 
 pra;nomens, have been corrected; but the "Spanish" of McGowan, 
 
 5 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 in almost all instances, is inichangfd, being- merely camouflaged in the 
 reprinting- by a resort to the unique system of Spanish punctuation. 
 Anglo-Californian names, also, have received some attention. Not 
 all the inaccuracies of the work can be noted here, but merely enough 
 to demonstrate the carelessness, ig-norance, and illiteracy displayed, 
 as well as to justify the making of such corrections as were made.* 
 
 Misspelling; of cofnmon English avords. turptitude (vi), narative 
 (23), staid \_stayeJ^ (108), occurence (112), empannelled (200), 
 scurrilious (201), rencountre (223), accessory (234). 
 
 Biblical etc. references. Aaron smiting- the rock in the wilderness 
 (126), Dr. Ollipod (50). 
 
 Jiunbles of Spanish ^vith French etc. pauvrecito (101), pauvre 
 viejo (135), 'Marie Jesus (134), Donna Rosa (122). 
 
 Spanish family nafnes and prcvnoniens. Ortego (6]),Ortaga (62), 
 de la Guerra (73), Ignatio (65), Marie Jesus (134), Nicholasa (138). 
 
 Spanish place-names. Piscadero (48), San Louis Obispo (104), 
 Las Crusas (62), Arroyo Honde (95), Arroya Honde (145), Canada 
 Verda (180). 
 
 Spanish punctuation. ' ' Paisano ! vamos ! los Vigilantes ! " (101). 
 
 Spanish, generally. Cochi Gueri (69), Cochi Guero (145), chap- 
 paral (83),pinola (98),pinoli (173), major domo (100), escopet (108), 
 Paisano es bueno Catholico (139), Bastante hombres en el casa (162). 
 
 Names of n^vell-knoivn Californians. John [M.] Freeman (26), 
 David Scannel (115), Neely Johnson (116), Don Abel Starnes (1H8), 
 Arch Bish(jp Allemany (172). 
 
 Piincti(atio7i.\ 1." burglary, or arson or any other ofl^ense against 
 society . . . was about to be perpetrated" (19); 2. "the man re- 
 turned from the Refugio bringing only a naked mule with the infor- 
 mation" (95); 3. "After leaving the Arroyo Honde, on the morn- 
 ing of the twenty-eighth, I struck out" (121) ; 4. "a man coming up 
 the canon leading a horse"; 5. "the bill being prepared on the third 
 day of March, it was placed" (192). 
 
 * The technicalities of printing, such as piiiictiiation and capitalization, are generally left to 
 the printer, but a chanjje of the diction of a respectable writer is a risky and improper proceed- 
 ing: the writer may not, in his proof, notice the change, and it may be the source of annoyance 
 afterwards, liven the practice of querying on a proof-sheet, by unskilled proof-readers, often 
 results in disaster. Many writers, authors and business men, express a preference for the or- 
 thography of the dictionary they possess, but experienced printers know very well that such 
 expressed preference is not often based on actual knowledge of different spellings. Merriam's 
 Webster is recognized as the standard in the United States, and in this reprint the varying 
 spellings in the original, of both American and English usage, are made to conform thereto. 
 
 t Punctuation did not receive the attention it deserved, in the original volume. Thus, in 
 1, no comma is needed after burglary, but one is needed after arson and after society. In 2, the 
 comma should be used after Refugio and mule: the man brought the mule and the information; 
 without the commas, the language means (and says) that the Refugio brought the mule, and 
 the mule the information. In 3, the comma should be omitted after Honde. In 4, a comma is 
 necessary after canon: the man, not the caiion, led the horse. In 5, the comma after March is 
 misplaced: it belongs after prepared. The experienced printer, in gauging the quality of print- 
 ing, can readily come to a decision from even a slight inspection of the punctuation, capitaliza- 
 tion, and division of words; these failing, the poor quality is established. Typographical inac- 
 curacies may be found in the best work; even the dictionaries violate their own rules. Thus 
 the inferior printer can say, in Kipling's words,"" They wink their eyes, the same as us." 
 
NAREATIYE 
 
 OF 
 
 EDWARD MoGOWAN, 
 
 IKCLUDDsG A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 ^'■y\ 
 
 ^crze^'^/^^ce^^^ 
 
 ^ ^^r^^t/>^r^^^ 
 
 Author's Adventures and Perils, while persecuted by the 
 San Francisco Vigilance Committee of 1856. 
 
 m 
 
 i ^' 
 
 Vp: 
 
 r, 
 
 ^ 
 
 
NARRATIVE 
 
 EDWARD McGOWAN, 
 
 INCLtTOING A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 S«t|ar's Sbkntum anb perils 
 
 WHILE PERSECUTED BY THE 
 
 Sail Francisco Vigilance Committee of 1856. 
 
 Valere. — 1 have not merited those names. 'Tis true. 
 I have committed an offence against you c 
 But, after all, my fault is pardonable'. 
 Hahpagok.— How ! pardonable ? what I a wilful murder? 
 A foul assassination of this kind ? 
 Valere.— For Heaven's sake, don't put yourself in rage, 
 
 ■When you have heard me you'll perceive the damage 
 Is not so great as you imagine.— (y/d Play. 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO: 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR, 
 
 1857. 
 
 Facsimile of Original Titlk-page 
 
Entered, according: to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred ; 
 
 Bv EDWARD McGOWAN, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
 Northern District of California. 
 
Bebication 
 
 This Book IS Respectfully 
 
 Inscribed 
 
 to 
 
 Nicholas A. Den, M.D. 
 
 of 
 
 Santa Barbara County 
 California 
 
 Whose Kindness to the Author may be Said 
 TO have Transcended the Charity of the 
 
 ^oob S>amantan 
 
 in that He Did not Confine Himself to the 
 Discharge of a merely Christian Duty, 
 Which Brought with It Its Own Reward, 
 and Nought of Danger to the Doer, hut. Fear- 
 lessly Braving the Insane Clamor of the 
 Multitude, and Listening only to the Voice 
 of Unselfish and Chivalrous Compassion for 
 the Hunted and the Helpless, Nobly Sought 
 Him out from the Inhospitable Wilderness, 
 and Bravely Sheltered Him from the FuRvo/a 
 Cruel Mob 
 
 That Length of Days, Prosperity, and Hap- 
 piness, may be His, is the Heartfelt Hope 
 of His ever Grateful and Firm Friend 
 
 Edward McGowan 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The idea of this work was suggested by the reflection that Provi- 
 dence places no one on this earth without affording him, at some 
 period of his life, an opportunity to be useful to his fellow-creatures, 
 if he will. I thought, then, that perhaps I might turn to some ac- 
 count, in the way of a lesson to unthinking fanatics, the history of 
 the sufferings to which fanaticism has subjected me. Conscious that 
 I did not merit, at the hands of my persecutors, their cruel treatment, 
 and equally conscious that I had, nevertheless, been the recipient of 
 it, I, for the first time in my life, became painfully aware to what ex- 
 tent injustice may be carried, even by men with tolerably good inten- 
 tions. Here, then, was my opportunity to be of some use to the 
 world, by communicating my experience. The authors of the move- 
 ment in which my troubles originated are undoubtedly deserving 
 (not particularly on my account) of all the reproaches which the pen 
 of censure, armed with its keenest point, could inscribe upon their 
 records. I have humbly conceived, however, that, although upbraid- 
 ings administered in that way may often be judicious, and sometimes 
 beneficial in their effects, nothing can so readily awaken the human 
 understanding to an appreciation of the horrors into which men may 
 be led by fanaticism, and the facility with which badly balanced minds 
 may become victims to that moral disease, than a calm, true, and, as 
 far as may be, dispassionate recital of a great wrong which actually 
 has been committed in the name and under the garb of virtue. 
 
 Therefore, in submitting the following pages to the reader, I have 
 been prompted less by a desire to gratify the morbid appetite for the 
 wonderful, — so characteristic of Californians, — than by a heartfelt con- 
 viction that from this simple and true narrative a lesson may be de- 
 
 V 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 y 
 
 rived, whose teachings, in future years, will serve as warning beacons 
 to any misguided men who, mistaking the voice of passion for the 
 call of duty, may be tempted to assume the fearful responsibility of 
 setting the laws of the country, and even the Constitution itself, at de- 
 fiance, enlisting in their vnihappy cause a reckless mob, whose responsi- 
 bility they afterward vainly rely on for support, and whose fury they 
 idly attempt to control. It is my sincere hope that the following 
 summary of my supposed crimes, and true history of the cruel suffer- 
 ings to which I have been subjected, — sufferings so incommensurate 
 with even my alleged transgressions, — may induce others hereafter to 
 pause ere they incur the hazard of inflicting like injustice on their 
 fellow-man. 
 
 As my conduct as a politician has been made a fruitful theme of 
 animadversion by my enemies, it may be as well for me here to state 
 what have been my political antecedents. I do not do so for the 
 purpose of vindicating myself from those charges of political mis- 
 conduct which have been preferred against me, so much as to show 
 how suddenly I must have become unscrupulous and corrupt, if, after 
 enjoying for years the respect and confidence of the first men in my 
 native State, and being honored time and again by the majority of 
 my fellow-citizens with offices of honor and trust, I have suddenly 
 left them, in the decline of life, to set an example of such political 
 turpitude on the shores of the Pacific, that I have been deemed de- 
 serving of the persecution, the details of which form the subject of 
 this narrative. 
 
 I entered political life in 1837. In the year 1838 I was elected 
 Clerk of the District of Moyamensing, in Philadelphia County, living, 
 at the time of my election, in the District of Southwark, where I was 
 born. I immediately moved into the District to which I had been 
 elected, and was xt-t\^Q\tdifi^e years consecutively Xo the same position. 
 During the time I held this office, I was Secretary to the Watering 
 Committee of the District, and was also, one year. Clerk to the County 
 Board, composed of the Senators and Members representing Phila- 
 delphia in the State Legislature. I was recommended for this position 
 by the Hon. Charles Brown, then State Senator, afterwards Member 
 of Congress for the First Congressional District of the State, and 
 subsequently Collector of the Port of Philadelphia, under the ad- 
 ministration of Mr. Pierce. In the year 1842 I was elected to the 
 Pennsylvania Legislature, and in the fall of 1843, appointed, by Gov. 
 Porter, Superintendent of the State Magazine for the Eastern District 
 
Introduction 
 
 of Pennsylvania. I held this post for two years, when a new Governor 
 came into power, and I was removed. I was then elected Superin- 
 tendent of Police for one of the Districts of Philadelphia, and held 
 this position for several years, during- which time I was on terms of 
 the most familiar intimacy with the Hon. Richard Vaux, then Re- 
 corder and now Mayor of Philadelphia. While I held this post, the 
 California excitement led me to this country, where I arrived in 1849. 
 Since I have resided in this State, I have held offices of honor in the 
 gift of the people, and have also been intrusted, by appointment and 
 otherwise, with most responsible positions, during my incumbency of 
 which, princely fortunes of the money of the people have passed 
 through my hands, and no murmur of defalcation was ever heard in 
 the State in connection with my name. The records of the State 
 Treasurer and Controller, under all administrations, now show a full 
 and fair accounting for every dollar of public money ever intrusted 
 to me, and to them I fearlessly appeal. Can some of my persecutors 
 say as much? I will only add, that, in my native city, I enjoyed the 
 most intimate social and personal relations with Governor David R. 
 Porter, Hon. Richard Vaux, Hon. James Campbell, United States Post- 
 master-General, Hons. T. B. Florence and Henry M. Phillips, now 
 Members of Congress from Philadelphia, Harry Connelly, Esq., Hon. 
 John W. Forney, and a host of others, to each and every one of 
 whom I now refer my traducers. So much for my political and per- 
 sonal antecedents. The charges of corruption which have been so 
 lavishly heaped upon me by men who never saw me, I despise j and 
 have inserted this brief history of my past life in the Introduction to 
 this book more to gratify my personal friends at home and here, than 
 from any solicitude as to the good or bad opinion of my slanderers. 
 
 It is not, of course, to be supposed that he who has been the victim 
 of a popular persecution, which challenges the annals of his country 
 for a parallel, can, by any ordinary human effort, purge his bosom of 
 all feeling of resentment against his oppressors; nor, indeed, is it to 
 be supposed that when Time, the great vindicator, shall have brought 
 men once more back to the paths of duty, and opened their ears to 
 the voice of reason, I shall be at all backward in visiting upon the 
 heads of some of my persecutors the thunderbolts with which they 
 have sought to annihilate me, and though, I trust, with more justice, 
 yet no less vehemence. 
 
 The main object of this little work, however, is to lay before the 
 
XarnitiiY of Edward McGowan 
 
 people ;i true narrative of my adventures, witli tlie circumstances 
 which led to them, leaving- with the reader's own iieart and judoiiient 
 the task, of deducing; the moral from the story. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 * * • " his crimes! " — fVhat crimes i 
 
 Were it not better to record the facts, 
 
 So that tlic conteniplator might approve, 
 
 Or at the least learn whence the crimes arose ? 
 
 Marino Faliero. 
 
 It will be remembered that, some time in the fall of 
 1855, James King of VVm., who for many years had 
 been a banker in San Francisco, and in the latter part of 
 his business career connected with the defunct firm of Ad- 
 ams l5 Co., having by the reverses of fortune been reduced 
 to bankruptcy, commenced the editing of a newspaper call- 
 ed the Evening BuUetiru The tenor and style of his edito- 
 rials are too well remembered by the people of California 
 to be here descanted upon. Suffice it to say, that, while 
 they apparently aimed at the correction of abuses which 
 undoubtedly existed in the San Francisco community, it 
 was thought by hundreds of our best citizens that the ex- 
 ample of unbridled license set by this paper to the press 
 was far more dangerous in its tendency than even the evils 
 it sought to eradicate; and it was well known that I, among 
 others, entertained this opinion, having frequently and free- 
 ly expressed it. 
 
 The boldness, arrogance, and not unfrequently reckless 
 mendacity, uhich characterized this sheet, as might have 
 been expected, awakened, in due season, a feeling of disgust, 
 not unmingled with resentment, in the breasts of many of 
 our citizens. Day after day this self-created censor fulmi- 
 nated his abuse indiscriminately on the innocent and the 
 guilty, making shuttlecocks of the reputations of some of 
 the best and most enterprising men in the state, till, em- 
 
 [2] (9) 
 
10 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 boldened by impunity, his apparent zeal in the cause of 
 reformation ran into the wildest fanaticism, at whose insane 
 bidding many a proud and honorable hope was forever 
 blig:hted, and many a happy heart was broken, never to be 
 healed. 
 
 It was while the Bulletin was in the zenith of its 
 career of slander and detraction, and when all men 
 were in dread lest every day should bring the fear- 
 ful ukase which was to herald them to the world as scoun- 
 drels, and place its indelible blight upon their reputations, 
 that some person, doubtless considering that before the 
 people should be expected blindly to believe and obey the 
 teachings of this new monitor it would be v^'ell for them 
 fully to understand what claims it had to the public confi- 
 dence, published a card in relation to the present editor of 
 the Bulletin, Thomas S. King, a brother of James King of 
 Wm. , and to a certain extent engaged with him in the con- 
 duct of that sheet. The communication was signed Caliban 
 — a no?n de plu?ne it was well known I had sometimes 
 adopted, and hence, perhaps, the pretty general suspicion 
 at the time, that I was its author. It so happened that the 
 article in question was not written by me, as any one^at all 
 conversant with my style may, by a careful perusal, easily 
 perceive. 
 
 It was published in the San Fi-aneisco Sunday Tinu^s, a 
 newspaper edited by James P. Casey. As the reader will 
 perceive, it was not ver-y personal, and certainly, under the 
 circumstances, not severe enough to be looked on as requir- 
 ing a bloody atonement. It appeared on the eleventh 
 day of May, 1856, and was as follows: — 
 [communication.] 
 
 Tilt- following- communication finds place in our colunms because 
 we believe some good may be effected by its publication. "There 
 must be some fire, where there is so much smoke." 
 
 Editor Sunday Times: — Althoug;h you do not make so much 
 parade of your courage and independence as some others in your pro- 
 fession, yet I, for one, believe that you have as good a share of these 
 qualities as generally falls to the lot of even editors. In my opinion, 
 he who assumes tlie tripod, and squats in the editorial chair, assumes 
 a responsibility of such magnitude as entitles him to the strictest scru- 
 tiny of that public whose opinion he affects to direct. Acting on this 
 assumption, I beg the use of your columns to state briefly my present 
 object. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 11 
 
 One of the chief traits in editorial management I take to be consis- 
 tency, without which the editor loses prestige and becomes a mere ob- 
 ject of ridicule; for the higher a man climbs, the more noticeable he 
 becomes. I propose, therefore, to test somewhat the consistency of 
 the editor of the Bulletin. In his issue of to-day, Friday, the editor 
 exhibits a most marked fav^oritism for Mr. Latham, in his editorial re- 
 marks recently made by him. The Bulletin says: — 
 
 "if, in making liis appointments, Mr. Latham, instead of selecting his own per- 
 sonal friends, has appointed indiscriminately from all factions, we doubt very 
 much whether the use he has thus made of his official patronage to harmonize 
 the difficulties in the Democ-atic party will injure him in the slightest particular 
 with the authorities at Washington. According to our way of thinking, it is 
 wrong for Mr. Latham, or any other public man, to appoint any other than good 
 men to office, and we cannot approve of some of those charged on him by a 
 'Purifier' in anotlier column to-day." 
 
 Contrast this language with the sweeping, persecuting tone of the 
 same paper in reference to the appointment of Mr. Clarkson by the 
 Governor, and Mr. McDuffie by the President, without taking notice 
 of others of a more insignificant character. Day after day, the Bul- 
 letin has inveighed in no complimentary terms against some of the 
 persons named in the "Purifier's" communication; day after day has 
 that paper held them up to public notice as the worst men in the 
 country; and yet mark its tone now that Mr. Latham has enlisted 
 their services to fight against the honest expression of public opinion 
 through the ballot-box. Now, Mr. Editor, the question arises. Whence 
 this great and monstrous sympathy for Mr. Latham.? I will tell you. 
 Mr. King, James King of Wm., has a brother who holds a lucrative 
 position in the Custom House, under Mr. Latham, and this brother is 
 one of the proprietors of that consistent, courageous, independent, and 
 immaculate sheet, the Bulletin : ' ''Hinc ilke lachrytnCE. ' ' Another point 
 to which I desire to call the attention of your readers is this : the 
 brother I allude to was an applicant for the office of U. S. Marshal 
 for California at the same time with Mr. McDuffie. Is it not possi- 
 ble, aye, even probable, that the bitter, unrelenting, and malicious per- 
 secution of that gentleman by the editor of the Bulletin was instigated 
 by motives of revenge for the defeat of his brother, who, I say, is a 
 large shareholder in the Bulletin? 
 
 Yours truly, Caliban. 
 
 A personal acquaintance with the writer of the above communica- 
 tion induced us to give it place in our paper; but until we read the 
 article we knew not that Mr. King had a brother in this country. 
 Our readers will jutlge and comment for themselves. — Ed. Sunday 
 Ti7nes. 
 
 On reading the above, Thomas S. King- called at Casey's 
 room, which \^■as at the house of John Burns, a deputy 
 sheriff, and demanded of him the author. Casey replied 
 that the person in question \^'as an old man with a lary^e 
 family, and he would prefer \^'ithholdine: his name, or words 
 
12 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 to that effect, and King, thoLig:h apparently not satisfied 
 with the answer, left him. 
 
 The next day, he again called upon Casey, at his office, 
 in company with John Walton, a deputy collector of the 
 port, and repeated his demand, though with no better suc- 
 cess than he had met with the day before. 
 
 Casey then consulted me, and I told him I thought the 
 matter would end there. I knew by the antecedents of 
 Thos. S. King that he must be a poltroon, and told Casey 
 that I did not think he ever meant to bring the matter to 
 an issue of arms. Casey, however, differed with me in 
 opinion, and said that he had made up his mind to pretend 
 to be shy of King, to encourage him, if he would, to take 
 further notice of the card. I advised him to let King take 
 his own course in the matter, and to trouble himself no 
 more about it, unless again called upon. 
 
 In the mean time. King consulted with a gentleman, and 
 acting, I presume, under his advice, addressed two or three 
 notes to Casey on the subject. He also published a card 
 in the San Francisco Hcralrl, asking for a suspension of 
 public opinion on the communication of Caliban. 
 
 Having received, as I understood, no satisfaction" from 
 his correspondence with Casey, Thos. S. King, notoriously 
 connected with a sheet whose every issue teemed with the 
 vilest and most indiscriminate personal abuse, one morning 
 repaired to the pistol-gallery kept by Natchez, on Clay 
 Street, and had his derringer pistols cleaned and loaded. 
 He then went in search of Casey, saying to several persons 
 that he was following him, would make him give up the 
 author, etc. He finally met Casey at the corner of Mer- 
 chant and Montgomery streets, next door to the Bulletin 
 office. I happened to be standing near the spot, in a little 
 cigar-store. King approached Casey and told him that 
 he would give him until ten o'clock the next day to give 
 up the real name of Caliban. Casey replied that he did 
 not desire another minute; that he was himself the author, 
 and responsible. Upon this, King said that he thought 
 the author was a gentleman,'' and walked away. I could 
 not refrain from bursting into a loud laugh when I found 
 how correct had been my opinion as to this man's poltroon- 
 ery. He favored me with a malignant scowl as he left the 
 
Narj-ativt^ of Edward McGowan 13 
 
 spot, and thus I supposed the difficulty between himself and 
 Caliban was at an end. But, alas ! the cowardice of this 
 man — Thomas S. King — was destined to be the polluted 
 spring from which was to flow the stream of anarchy, trea- 
 son, and almost civil war. Better, far better, had it been 
 for the community, the country, and the lovers of free in- 
 stitutions all over the world, if, on that morning, King, Ca- 
 sey, and myself had all fallen in a street ?fielee, and the 
 seeds of internal discord, afterwards sown so broadcast in 
 the land, had been buried in our obscure graves. But it 
 was not to be so. James King of Wm. , provoked to retali- 
 ate on the cause of his brother's discomfiture and disgrace, 
 published, the next day, in the Bulletin^ a very severe arti- 
 cle, in which he alluded, in terms of the bitterest opprobrium, 
 to Casey's antecedents in New York, and stated facts in 
 connection with his life there, which, being published with- 
 out any explanation, of which they were to a certain extent 
 susceptible, had a tendency to degrade Casey in the esti- 
 mation of all good men. The following is an extract from 
 the article: — 
 
 "The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing-Sing prison, in 
 New York, is no offense against the laws of this state 5 nor is the fact 
 of his having stuffed himself, through the ballot-box, as elected to the 
 Board of Supervisors, from a district where it is said that he was not 
 even a candidate, any justification for Mr. Bagley to shoot Casey, 
 however richly the latter may deserve to have his neck stretched for 
 such fraud on the people. These are acts against the public good, 
 not against Mr. Bagley in particular; and, however much we may 
 detest Casey's former character, or be convinced of the shallowness 
 of his promised reformation, we cannot justify the assumption by Mr. 
 Bagley to take upon himself the redressing of these wrongs." 
 
 Casey, upon reading the above, repaired to the editorial 
 room of the Bulletin, and told James King of Wm. that he 
 desired he would not rake up the events of his past life in 
 New York. He said that he was perfectly willing his 
 conduct in California should be scrutinized, and that if 
 anything could be proven against his character here, he 
 was willing it should be published; but with reference to 
 past matters he was exceedingly sensitive; that he was 
 young and inexperienced when the offense for which he 
 had been imprisoned was committed, and, as the evidence 
 
14 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 and the record showed, it was, at worst, but a case of construc- 
 tive larceny. King replied that he would publish whatever 
 he saw fit, and that on the next day he would be still 
 more severe. Casey then told him he must be prepared 
 to defend himself on the street, as he intended to attack 
 him on sight, upon which King ordered him out of his 
 office, and threatened to kick him out if he did not go. 
 Casey left the ofiice, and immediately arranged his private 
 affairs preparatory to attacking Mr. King.* 
 
 While all this was going on, I was attending to a cause be- 
 fore Justice Ryan of the FirstTownship, for Captain Dodge, 
 of the schooner "Matthew Vassar." About twenty minutes 
 past four o'clock of the day on which Mr. King was shot, 
 seeing that another cause which was being tried was likely 
 to occupy the rest of the afternoon, I asked to have that of 
 Capt. Dodge postponed until the following day. This was 
 granted, and after my client and I had stepped out of court, 
 I saw the Evening Bulletin containing the above remarks 
 with reference to Casey. I had not up to this time even 
 heard that Casey had had an interview with King. I went 
 from the courtroom down on to Montgomery Street, and 
 stopped in the neighborhood of the Bulletin office. ^ I saw 
 many persons gathered in knots about the streets, and 
 everything indicated to me that a fight was expected. 
 It was now about twenty minutes of five o'clock. While 
 I was standing on the street, a friend informed me that 
 Casey wanted to see me at a barroom kept in the rear of 
 the City Hall by James Godfrey, Esq. I at once went 
 there, and among a great many other persons I saw Casey. 
 He and 1 immediately stepped into the alley on which the 
 house is situated, and I there learned for the first time 
 what had occurred between him and Mr. King. He was 
 very cool, but apparently very angry. He told me that his 
 determination was to attack Mr. King, and that he had 
 finished the adjustment of his affairs, so that in the event 
 of his fall there would be no difficulty about them. He 
 said that he expected the meeting would result in a des- 
 
 *Tht* author is indebted for this information to James P. Casey, 
 who detailed it to liim before the attack, and afterward in the County 
 Jail. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 15 
 
 perate fight, as Mr. King was greatly his superior physi- 
 cally, and, moreover, from the daily tone of the Bulletin, 
 as well as from the notice he had given him, he took it for 
 granted that he would be fully armed.* He begged me 
 not to be in the street at the time the fight took place, lest, 
 in the event of Mr. King's death, I should be suspected of 
 complicity, on account of my supposed connection with the 
 Caliban matter. He then embraced me, and I left him. I 
 was secretly determined, notwithstanding his injunctions, 
 to see the encounter. Like almost all old Californians, I 
 was accustomed to such sights, and, naturally enough, when 
 I knew that a fight was about to take place, curiosity 
 prompted me to witness it. Accordingly, I returned to 
 Montgomery Street, and, after standing there some minutes, 
 I concluded, as I saw nothing of Casey, that perhaps he 
 had changed his mind about making the attack. W I saun- 
 tered up Montgomery Street, and entered the Bank Ex- 
 change, on the corner of Washington. Here I met an old 
 Philadelphia acquaintance named Peter Whiteman, and 
 invited him to drink with me. While we were standing at 
 the bar, the boy Butts (whose name appears in the subse- 
 
 *The following- are among- many passages of the kind to be found 
 about that time in the Bulletin: — 
 
 Bulletin, Dec. 6th. — "Mr. Selover, it is said, carries a knife. We 
 carry a pistol. We hope neither will be required, but if this rencon- 
 tre cannot be avoided, why will Mr. Selover persist in periling- the 
 lives of others? We pass, every afternoon, about half-past four to 
 five o'clock, along Market Street, from Fourth to Fifth Street. The 
 road is wide, and not so much frequented as those streets farther in 
 town. If we are to be sliot or cut to pieces, for Heaven's sake let it 
 be done there. Others will not be injured, and in case we fall, our 
 house is but a few hundred yards beyond, and the cemetery not 
 nmch farther." 
 
 //'.,Jan.7th. — "If these fellows are really determined to attack the ed- 
 itor of the Bulletin, -tuhy Jon '/ t/iey do it at once and tfC done ^with itF Why 
 keep everybody in suspense ? Here we have been carrying a pistol 
 for nearly three months because of the braggadocio bidlying of this 
 crowd, until we are heartily tired of it." 
 
 [t] I have since been informed that during this time Casey was in a 
 lawyer's office with a friend, arranging- the final disposition of iiis 
 efi'ects in the event of his fall. This office was in Bolton &" Barron's 
 buikling, fronting on Montgomery Street, and commanded a full view 
 of the scene of the meeting. 
 
16 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 quent examination of the case before the Grand Jury) en- 
 tered the room and said something to Whiteman which I 
 did not hear, and Whiteman immediately left the room. I 
 suspected that King and Casey were about meeting, and 
 went into the street myself. I looked down the street and 
 saw many persons standing about the sidewalks, but, seeing 
 nothing of Casey, concluded once more to leave the scene, 
 and started up Washington Street, on my way to my rooms 
 on Dupont. As I traveled up Washington Street, I was 
 met by Henry B. Truett and Hamilton Bowie — the latter 
 since dead: peace to his ashes! They were riding in Mr. 
 Truett' s buggy. Being intimate with both of them, I in- 
 formed them of what was going on, when Truett remarked. 
 
 If such a fight is coming off, it is no place for me." I 
 told them if it did come off I did not intend to witness it, 
 and they drove away in an opposite direction. I continued 
 up Washington Street, and on reaching Kearny I met 
 James T. Green of the Police, (now Justice Green of El 
 Dorado County,) together with John Nugent and Samuel 
 Stevenson, also of the Police. We all went into a place 
 called the Boomerang, on Kearny Street, to drink. While 
 we were conversing about my applying to Mayor Van 
 Ness to have Nugent, v^^ho had been suspended, reinstated 
 on the Police, a man rushed by, on his way, as he said, to 
 see Mrs. King, informing us that her husband had been shot 
 by Casey. Presently I saw the crov^d rushing up Wash- 
 ington Street, follox^ing Casey, who was in charge of the 
 officers, to the City Hall. From thence he was shortly 
 taken to the jail. I went up to the jail and there found 
 Thomas S. King haranguing the mob in a very excited 
 manner. 
 
 I remained there some time, and then went with a friend 
 to my usual place of dining. After dinner, H. H. Byrne, 
 the District Attorney, entered the room, laughing and 
 apparently exulting over the occurrence of the day. He 
 had, I think, been drinking a little. Presently, with a very 
 knowing air, and running his fingers through his locks, he 
 exclaimed, "Judge, this is your pistol," at the same time 
 exhibiting a derringer which he said his brother, Lafayette 
 Byrne, a deputy sheriff, had taken from Casey. After 
 Casey had shot King, Byrne was the first officer who 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 17 
 
 approached him, and it is said that Casey, believing him 
 to be his friend, slipped this pistol into his hand before 
 entering the City Hall, not wishing to compromise the 
 party from whom he had borrowed it. 
 
 I replied to District Attorney Byrne, "if it is mine, 
 give it tome." It was not mine; mine were in my pockets, 
 where I habitually carried them. They were gold-mount- 
 ed, and are well known to hundreds of men in San Fran- 
 cisco. I wished, however, to get possession of the pistol, 
 for I thought I recognized it, and considered it no harm to 
 shield, if possible, the party to whom it belonged from sus- 
 picion ; the more especially as it will be remembered that 
 Mr. King was not shot by a "derringer," but by a revol- 
 ver. 
 
 Byrne refused to give me the pistol, and I said no more 
 about it, taking care to leave him still under the impres- 
 sion that it was mine, knowing that, if called upon, I could 
 easily clear myself of the suspicion. A few days after- 
 ward Mr. King died, and Lafayette Byrne swore at the 
 inquest that his brother, the District Attorney, took the pis- 
 tol, saying, Don't say anything about this, but try to find 
 out the owner. I think some one else is en^a^ed in this, and 
 I want to ferret it out. ' ' Since my return from southern 
 California, he declares to my friends that he did not in 
 that remark mean me. If he did not mean me, believing, 
 as he said he did, that the pistol was mine, who did he 
 mean.f' If he<^/V/mean me, v^^hy does he, now that I have, 
 contrary to his expectations, returned, so solemnly assever- 
 ate that he did not.^" The reason is known to me, and shall, 
 at the proper time, be made public. I here venture to 
 assert that no man in San Francisco felt more heartfelt 
 exultation in the death of James King of Wm. than this 
 same exemplary and zealous District Attorney. Indeed, a 
 reference to a few back articles of the Bulletin, where the 
 editor has had occasion to use his name, will at once con- 
 vince the reader that the District Attorney had very little 
 cause to love the conductor of that paper.* 
 
 [From the S. F. Bulletin, March 17.] 
 
 * "The Ordinance which went into effect on the 15th February, by 
 the joint conni\'ance of the District Attorney, the Mayor, the attorney 
 
18 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 It was necessary for him, however, to keep up a fair 
 appearance of devotion to his duty in this matter. His 
 
 of the Recorder's Court, and Col. James, the counsel for Josephine 
 Burr, has been overruled, set aside, and made of no avail! Mr. Dis- 
 trict Attorney Byrne has falsified his promises of reform." — \_Bulletiti, 
 March ll.'\' 
 
 * * * * "By the way, what has become of that Bill 
 Lewis case.? Hurry up that case, Mr. Byrne, and let's see what you 
 are doing in the wa\- of carrying out your promises. " — I/?. , Marc// 13. 
 
 * * * * "The Chronicle, as usual, is opposed to any 
 censure being passed on Mr. Byrne. We rather guess we know the 
 secret of this course on the part of the Chronicle. The ' editor-in- 
 chief and Mr. Byrne are old friends, and we have it from undoubt- 
 ed authority that the 'editor-in-chief himself, from former associa- 
 tions, is averse to any action against the class of houses referred to. 
 This will account for the glee with which that paper announced, the 
 other day, that 'the ordinance was a failure!' " — lb.., March 14. 
 
 "The Bill Lewis Case. — When will this case come up for 
 trial } We very much fear there is too much ground for the com- 
 plaints against District Attorney Byrne on the score of leniency to 
 criminals of a certain class. Why does Mr. Byrne show so much 
 reluctance in bringing up Bill Lewis, and so much regard for the lat- 
 ter' s welfare, whilst, at the same time, acting so insultingly to Mr. 
 Brown, the witness against Lewis .? Is it a part of the District At- 
 torney's business to browbeat Jiis o^ivn witnesses, and drive them 
 away ? A bystander, who was present on one occasion when this 
 brutal attack of Mr. Lewis on Mr. Brown was being talked over in 
 the District Attorney's office, says he heard Mr. Byrne say, '/ Ul fix- 
 Mr. Bron.vn off., before I get through n.vith him I ' Now, what did Mr. 
 Byrne mean by that speech? The District Attorney says he will 
 'fix off his own witness! Does he mean that he will pursue the 
 same course in this Bill Lewis case as he did with the ordinance of 
 the 15th February, give it up in ^^/-x'tf ;7r^ .^ Take care, Mr. Byrne; it 
 won't do to try that too often." — lb., March 17. 
 
 "'Is the District Attorney the gentleman who was reported to 
 have said in the Mayor's Court recently that "the office did not con- 
 fer honor on him, but that he conferred honor upon the office" .? Judg- 
 ing from the frequency of quashing indictments, the long period 
 elapsing before trials in most of the important criminal cases take 
 place, and the escape of notorious criminals on trial, it seems to me 
 that he confers quite as little honor on the office as "the off.ce does" (in 
 his own words) "upon him." Justice.' 
 
 " [The District Attorney's estimate of his abilities, we doubt not, is 
 fully as great as they deserve, but, from the frequent faults found 
 with his indictments, we incline to think he either favors his friends, 
 or else don't know so much of 'the lor' as he professes. — Eu. Bul- 
 letin.] " — lb., May 8. 
 
19 
 
 mvn safety demanded it. Once convinced of that fact, no 
 feeling of honor could prevent him from turning the full 
 tide of unjust suspicion against one who had ever been his 
 unselfish friend. But I am digressing. At a future time 
 I shall probably have something to say to the public, not 
 only in reference to this official, but very many others who 
 have shown a remarkable readiness to join in a hue and cry 
 against a former friend and benefactor in order to shield 
 themselves. That matter is, however, for the future; and I 
 here close all further remark upon it so far as this book is 
 concerned. 
 
 I have been thus minute in detailing my connection with 
 the circumstances which, as the reader knows, led to the 
 organization of the Vigilance Committee, in order that it 
 may be fully understood how far I have merited the cruel 
 persecution to which I have been subjected at the hands of 
 its myrmidons. I have simply set down the truths the whole 
 tnith, and nothing hut the truth; every word of which is 
 susceptible of proof by gentlemen now residing in San Fran- 
 cisco; and I ask any candid man to say whether there was 
 anything in my conduct which justified the bitterness of their 
 persecution. It is true that a short time before the attack 
 was made on Mr. King I knew that it was to be made. So 
 did hundreds of others, who had thronged the streets to see 
 it, and probably most of them had, by some means, ascer- 
 tained it before I did. And what did I know.? That a 
 murder was going to be committed.'^ By no means. That 
 burglary or arson, or any other offense against society or 
 any of its members, was about to be perpetrated."^ Cer- 
 tainly not. Had such been the case, it would have been 
 my clear duty to communicate my knowledge to the authori- 
 ties, or be content to be regarded as an accomplice. I 
 simply knew that a man whose character had been black- 
 ened by an editor was about to seek redress for the injury, 
 in the only way that editor would give it. I knev\" that 
 that editor had refused to recognize the code by which gen- 
 tlemen all over the world are guided in the adjustment 
 of their difiiculties which cannot otherwise be settled; and 
 1 knew that he had repeatedly declared in the most arro- 
 gant and bullying manner that the crack of his pistol was 
 the only explanation he had to make to those who felt 
 
20 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 aggrieved by his articles. I knew that he who sought 
 redress had endeavored peaceably to obtain it, and had 
 been met with scorn and contumely; and that he was now 
 left to the alternative of obtaining it in this way or forever 
 remaining with the mildew of dishonor on his name. I 
 knew that he contemplated no assassination, but that he 
 simply anticipated a desperate conflict, before entering into 
 which he had set his house in order," anticipating death 
 in the attempt to vindicate his reputation. This I knew, 
 and did not inform the authorities. If in this I sinned, then 
 hundreds of others sinned with me, who were "clothed in 
 purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day," 
 while 1, knawed by the pangs of hunger and thirst, was 
 forced to hide my houseless head among the forest dens of 
 the wild beasts, — like them, hunted, but not, like them, com- 
 forted with the sympathy and companionship of my species. 
 But I digress. I only desire to lay before the world, up to 
 this point, the exact extent of my culpability, and in the suc- 
 ceeding pages the fearful punishment which an unthinking 
 and frenzied mob has inflicted on me. 
 
 The excitement caused by the attack on Mr. King, it 
 will be remembered, induced the Sheriff to svxrcwnon ?i posse 
 of the citizens to protect the jail against any attempt to 
 take Casey therefrom. I, among others, was notified to 
 serve, and did so. On the evening of the sixteenth of May, 
 however, an event occurred, never to be forgotten or suf- 
 ficiently deplored. On that fatal evening, while there was 
 yet hope that the majesty of the law would be respected, 
 and a popular outbreak prevented by an exhibition of firm- 
 ness on the part of the Sheriff and his posse, the Governor 
 of the state, doubtless actuated by the best of motives, suf- 
 fered himself to be influenced by weak counsel, and, relying 
 on the bad faith of seditious and designing men, encouraged 
 the Sheriff, by his countenance if not advice, to admit within 
 the walls of the jail a party of men connected with the band 
 of conspirators then organizing under the name of the Vigi- 
 lance Committee. From that hour I knew that the fate 
 of Casey was sealed, and believed that nothing could avert 
 the storm that seemed about to burst upon the city. Sev- 
 eral of us threw do\An our arms in disgust and left the jail. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 21 
 
 I went down Montgomery Street, and into Barry ^' Pat- 
 ten's saloon. 
 
 As my narrative has now brought me to the organization 
 of the Vigilance Committee, before proceeding further it 
 may not be amiss, perhaps, in connection with the current 
 events of which I write, to state one little fact. Not with a 
 view of injuring the gentleman on whom it in some sort 
 reHects (for, I believe, had he been gifted with more natural 
 firmness, his own heart would have made him more con- 
 sistent), but from the illustration it affords of the hollowness 
 and instability of the foundation on which the so-called 
 reform movement" was based. The evening before the 
 rencounter of King and Casey, I was in Barry ef Pat- 
 ten's drinking-saloon, on Montgomery Street, in company 
 with J. C ^ Cremony, Esg.^ of the San Francisco Siin^ and 
 Mr. Casey. While we were drinking at the bar,~we were 
 joined by Frank Soule, Esq. , of the Chronicle, and another 
 gentleman, also, I think, connected with that press. The 
 subject of conversation, when they joined us, was the bragga- 
 docio and threats of the King family, and the "white feath- 
 er" shown by Tom, in the Caliban matter, that morning. 
 Mr. Soule stated that he had been persecuted by James 
 King of Wm. , and had even gone so far as to procure a 
 double-barreled shot-gun for the purpose of killing him, and 
 that nothing but the entreaties of his partner had prevented 
 him from doing so. * 
 
 * I need only ask the reader to contrast this declaration with the 
 following- extract from the Steamer Clironicle of the 21st May: — 
 
 "James King- of Wm. is no more ! Another victim of the bloody 
 code lies still forever. One martyr more for liberty has paid his pen- 
 alty for speakings what he thought. What threats could not effect, 
 bribes failed to accomplish, the pistol has done, assassination has fin- 
 ished. The bold denouncer of wrong-, the fearless antag-onist of crime, 
 the brave citizen, who risked life and reputation, happiness and home, 
 in the herculean task of tearing- the mask from vice and laying vil- 
 lainy open to the view, lies in his bloody shroud because he felt it his 
 duty to expose evil, and possessed the daring to do it. * * * * 
 He brought to the press an intense antipathy to wrong, and unquench- 
 able ardor in opposing it. From the first number of the Bulletin till 
 tiie last one wliich he edited, liis life hung upon a thready for no man 
 in this city could attack its constantly occurring deeds of darkness 
 
22 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 The evening of the shooting of King, Mr. Soule called 
 upon Casey in the County Jail, and, taking him by both 
 hands, shook them heartily, saying that the people would 
 thank him for what he had done. The day after the shoot- 
 ing of Mr. King, the fifteenth day of May, it will be remem- 
 bered that the Chronicle advocated "Law and Order," but 
 by some mysterious influence best known to the Chi'onide 
 and its patrons, ' 'a change came over the spirit of its dream" 
 before the setting of the sun, and on the following morning 
 it was among the most rabid of the Vigilance press.* Pur- 
 suing the same course, and tacking at the same time, and, 
 doubtless for the same weighty considerations, whatever 
 they were, was also found the Daily Toivn Talk, and in 
 a few days that sheet was enlarged, t 
 
 I have not thus digressed for the purpose of gratifying 
 any petty spite entertained toward Mr. Soule or others; 
 but merely because I think it due to those who have suffered 
 by the acts of that damnable league of hypocrites styling 
 themselves the Vigilance Committee, that the world should 
 knov^' exactly how much of sincerity and how much of sclf- 
 
 uiul crime without risking- his life every time he did so. Mr. King 
 (Hd this, and he felt the risk, he ran— =^yet he swerved not. He had 
 'set his foot upon the heated plowshare, and he was determined to 
 pass the fiery ordeal.' " 
 
 * "What, then, shall we do ? Appeal to the courts, and see that they 
 do their duty. Let reason and law — nay, /;/rtX'^ reason and law — vin- 
 dicate the outraged laws and peace of society. ****** 
 Our courts ??mst protect us, and vindicate at once the character of the 
 community and the violated laws. ****** There t/iiut 
 be henceforth no tritiing. Offended \a\\ must be vindicated — Justice 
 7fnist be satisfied — Mnrdttr ?nust be punished. Homicides must ce-dse. 
 Riot and bloodshed 7/iust be prevented — or society is at an end, and 
 irremediable havoc and ruin will cover us like a pall. " — Chronicle, 15th 
 May. 
 
 t "We do hope and trust that the sober second thought will prevail, 
 and that our city's fair name may be preserved. Though u great 
 wrong has been committed against society, and a lasting injury in- 
 flicted upon our city, let the law have its course and punish this offense. 
 It is due to the courts to see the law faithfully administered and justice 
 done. Violence on the person of Casey would neither vindicate the 
 law, restore the lamented King, nor correct the crying evil tliat exists 
 in ourcommunitv — the constant use of deadlv weapons." — Tu-cviiTalk, 
 15th May. 
 
Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 23 
 
 interest there was in the professions of purity made by that 
 great engine the press, by whose powerful aid the unhealthy 
 fever was so long kept up, and by far the greater part of 
 the treason perpetrated. 
 
 But to return to the thread of my narrative. As before 
 stated, I left the jail and went down town, and into Barry 
 Cif Patten's drinking-saloon. While there, some one told 
 me that the Committee were organizing, and that they 
 intended to send me a notice to leave. I replied that "who- 
 ever brought it had better provide himself with a coat of 
 mail," or something to that effect, intending to give the 
 bearer of such a document, whoever he was, good cause to 
 repent his mission. In the course of the evening I returned 
 to the jail, and remained there till nearly daylight. While 
 I was down town I had ascertained that one J. L. Durkee, 
 a member of the police (and afterwards so notorious as 
 Captain Durkee of the Vigilance Committee police, who 
 was tried for piracy in seizing the arms of the state), was 
 a spy upon the Sheriff in the jail, under pretence of being 
 there on duty. I got an opportunity to notify James Her- 
 bert, and another person whom I recognized on the top of 
 the jail, of this fact. Going around the jail, I discovered a 
 guard stationed in the rear of the building, and saw Charles 
 Doane, afterwards Marshal of the Vigilance Committee, 
 apparently in command. I remained in the vicinity of the 
 jail till near morning, and then retired to my bed. 
 
 1 had by this time begun to regard it as prudent to keep 
 out of the way. I had received many intimations from 
 various sources that I was suspected of complicity in the 
 shooting of King, and well knew what I had to expect at 
 the hands of an excited mob in the event of Mr. King's 
 death, whether I was guilty or not. Madame Show, the 
 lady at whose house I had rooms, received that morning a 
 note in a disguised handwriting, stating that my life was 
 in danger. It was supposed to have been written by a Ger- 
 man who had joined the Committee. On Sunday, the 
 eighteenth of May, I rose late, and went cautiously and 
 well armed to a different barber's shop from the one where 
 I had been in the habit of getting shaved. On coming out, 
 I observed the housetops in the vicinity of the jail 
 crowded with people, and ascertained that a demonstration 
 
24 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 was about to be made by the mob, I secured a position 
 where, unobserved, I could witness all that occurred. The 
 events of that black day will never be obliterated from the 
 memories of those who witnessed them. After I had seen 
 them lead poor Casey from the jail and place him in the 
 carriage which was to convey him to his death, I left my 
 place of observation and returned to my rooms. Here 1 
 was shortly visited by a few friends, one of whom was the 
 bearer of a message to me from Casey, who desired me to 
 leave town, as he knew the Committee intended to take me, 
 I remained within doors the v^'hole of that day and the 
 next, and had my meals brought to me by Mr. Thos. Fin- 
 lay, formerly one of the police, while my friends were on 
 the qui vive, and in constant communication with me. On 
 Monday night I removed to the opposite side of the street. 
 Here I received several secret messages from persons who 
 had friends connected with the Committee, begging me to 
 be on the alert and trust to no one. My whereabouts was 
 known to a German named Schmidt, and a Frenchman 
 whose name I have forgotten, — both members of the Com- 
 mittee,- — also to a Jew cigar-vender, one of their corporals, 
 named Wasserman, I also received many offers from per- 
 sons, who knew where I was, to take me into the country, 
 1 listened to all, but accepted none, and kept my own coun- 
 sel. 
 
 On Tuesday, the t^^'entieth of May, the tolling of bells 
 throughout the city announced the death of James King of 
 Wm. I knew that they pealed the death-knell of Casey, 
 and, with the unjust suspicions then aroused against me, 
 perhaps of myself. I changed my room in the house I 
 was in, and sent to a friend, by a sure hand, a note I had 
 received from one of the Vigilance Committee advising me 
 to get out of the way. My friend supplied me with money, 
 and I prepared to leave the city. 
 
 Arrangements had been made that, on the evening of the 
 day on which I was supplied with money, some of my 
 friends were to call and go with me to a spot where a pair 
 of horses and buggy were in waiting, in which one of them 
 was to accompany me into the country. There was a wo- 
 man named Mrs. Eliza Greenwood who had some little 
 things of mine, and before my departure I wished to call 
 
NafTatk't' of Edward McGovvan 25 
 
 and get them, and also to bid her good by. She was a 
 friend of John M. Freeman, Esq., of Freeman's Express, 
 a leading member of the Vigilance Committee, and after- 
 wards a captain in what they called their Light Brigade. 
 Freeman was absent on duty, and about five o'clock in the 
 evening I called at her rooms, which were in the same 
 building with mine. While I was conversing with her, I 
 heard footsteps on the stairs. A friend, who had called 
 with me, immediately escaped from the room by a window 
 opening upon a balcony, and she begged me to do the same. 
 I asked her to see first who it was, and she replied, ' It is 
 John." While I was reflecting that it was too late to 
 escape, and he was but one man at any rate, the door open- 
 ed and he stood before me. 
 
 On seeing me he appeared very much surprised, and 
 even startled. He presently recovered himself, however, 
 and said to me, "McGowan, I don't think you are a very 
 bad man." I replied that "I hoped I was not as bad as my 
 enemies would have it appear." He then said, 'You are 
 in my house, and hospitality forbids that I should betray 
 you." He told me that I was hunted, and if others knev^ 
 what he then did with regard to my whereabouts, my life 
 would be of little value, and offered to give me an asylum 
 at his rooms on Montgomery Street. I declined the offer, 
 and apologized for my presence there, telling him that I 
 had only called to say good by, preparatory to my leaving 
 town. The remains of a bottle of champagne which we 
 had been drinking were on the table, and Freeman sent for 
 another, pressing me to remain and drink it with him. All 
 this time the lady of the apartment was signaling me to go 
 out. I heard the sound of footsteps! Freeman told me 
 not to be uneasy; that he would protect me while there. 
 I thanked him, at the same time thinking that a knife, re- 
 volver, and pair of derringers, with which I was armed, 
 were a better protection. I took a parting-glass of wine, 
 and got out on the balcony, which overhung the courtyard 
 of the building, and so along it to my own room. My ar- 
 rangements to leave were all made, and I lay down on the 
 bed, awaiting the arrival of my friends. Presently they 
 came, four in number. I immediately put on a covered 
 California hat, and accompanied them into the street, and 
 
 [3] 
 
26 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 high time it was that I did so. The bloodhounds had 
 struck the scent, and were on my track. As I afterward 
 learned, fifteen minutes after I left, the neighborhood was 
 surrounded, and some ten or fifteen braves entered and 
 searched the premises. They were armed with sabers and 
 pistols, and ransacked every hole, nook, and corner, making 
 a terrible to-do and clatter among pots, pans, and kettles, 
 but the bird had fiown. They were very curious, and the 
 lady before referred to was very furious, and spoke her 
 mind in no measured terms, while Mr. John Freeman sat 
 a mute spectator of the scene.* My friends and I pursued 
 our way through the streets, which seemed to be alive with 
 people, toward the spot where the horses waited ; but before 
 we reached there, the heart of the friend who was to drive 
 me out failed him. He dare not risk incurring the dis- 
 pleasure of the Star Chamber, and we bent our steps toward 
 Commercial Street. The rooms of an old friend, Mr. James 
 P. Rynders, were on that street, opposite the "Polka," and 
 forthwith I appropriated them. Mr. R. was himself absent 
 in Sacramento, and knew nothing of the unceremonious 
 manner in which I had taken possession of his lodgings. 
 
 The next day, the coroner's inquest was held on the body 
 of James King of Wm. , and a few hours afterward I was 
 indicted by the Grand Jury for being accessary before the 
 fact. Tlie news of my indictment spread like fire, — several 
 members of the Grand Jury were sympathizers with the 
 Committee, and afteruards members of it,- and, simulta- 
 neously with the finding of the bill against me, the Commit- 
 tee were made acquainted with the fact; ten or fifteen min- 
 utes afterward, I was myself notified of it. Then came 
 the tug of war." The exertions of the Committee to get 
 me, and those of myself and friends to keep out of their 
 bloody fingers. 
 
 Thomas Finlay was arrested, and imprisoned in the Vigi- 
 
 * Some of my friends have tlioug-ht that Freeman betrayed me. 
 Whatever may have been his intention after he found me in the room, 
 I do not believe he expected to find me there, and consequently do not 
 attribute to him the descent of the enemy upon the premises. He 
 had no opportunity to give tliem the cue. Besides, I am very loath 
 to believe, under the circumstances, he could be capable of so dastardly 
 a breach of hospitality, if he i.vas Captain of the Lig^ht Brie^ade. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 27 
 
 lance rooms, where, I learned, they used entreaties, threats, 
 and bribes to induce him to disclose to them my place of 
 retreat, but in vain. Pending him, at length, utterly imprac- 
 ticable, they discharged him after two days' imprisonment.* 
 William Mulligan, whom they had also arrested, was offer- 
 ed his liberty, I learned, if he would assist them to capture 
 me, but he indignantly spurned the offer, and suffered ban- 
 ishment rather than tell them where he had last seen me. 
 He had called on me only two days before his arrest. I 
 remained ten days in my hiding-place in Commercial Street. 
 As may be supposed, the hunt for me had waxed sufficiently 
 hot, as I had been unable to execute any manoeuver by which 
 to delude my pursuers into the belief that I had left town. 
 After the first few days, my friends began to be afraid to 
 come near me, and I actually consulted with one of them 
 as to the propriety of giving myself up to the authorities 
 under my indictment; but I have now no doubt that a calm 
 reconsideration of that matter saved my neck from the fin- 
 gers of the Committee's hangman. I requested my friends 
 not to visit me any more, and indeed the request was al- 
 most needless, for there was a ban upon me, and by this 
 time it seemed to them that my very touch was leprosy, 
 and my breath was poison. I bade them have no fears of 
 my being hung, as I never intended to be taken alive. I 
 had no less than ten shots and a good knife always about 
 my person. They embraced me and bid me good by, all 
 but one,, who still stood by me, and a faithful negro boy who 
 brought me my meals. In a miserable state of mind I re- 
 mained here several days, eagerly watching for the first 
 chance of escape, and reading the surmises as to my where- 
 abouts in the daily papers, t One day, I feared, from an in- 
 
 *The following is an extract from an article which appeared in the 
 Herald oi May 28th: — 
 
 We are also informed that one of the police force of this city has 
 received a promise of a large contingent to ferret out McGowan, and 
 that another man, who w^as supposed to be acquainted with all Mc- 
 Gowan' s movements, has been kept in close confinement in the rooms 
 of the Vigilance Committee for the last two days, in the hope of 
 compelling him to make some revelations. He was discharged yes- 
 terday. 
 
 t It is also said Judge Edward McGowan has been arrested in Ne- 
 
28 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 cident that occurred, that my hopes and fears were about 
 to be brought to a speedy termination. I heard at the door 
 
 vada, while some assert he is in possession of the Committee here. — 
 Herald, May 25th. 
 
 The Search after McGowan. — The search after this individual 
 was continued yesterday, but, we believe, without result. It is said 
 by some that McGowan is still in this city, while others assert that 
 he left long before his arrest was contemplated. Towards evening a 
 considerable stir was observable among the members of the Vigilance 
 Committee. They were in every portion of the city — some riding — 
 some walking. The object, no doubt, was to keep a sharp eye upon 
 those places which have fallen under suspicion. — Herald, May 30th. 
 [May 27th.] 
 
 Movements of the Committee. — The search after McGowan 
 was continued yesterday, but with the same result. It is said by 
 some that he sailed a few days ago for Mazatlan^ — by others, that he 
 left this city a few days ago, on horseback, for the southern country, 
 and in support of this theory it is stated that a gentleman in this 
 city, who is the owner of two fleet horses, yesterday received a tele- 
 graphic dispatch to the effect that one of his horses was knocked up 
 some distance below San Jose; while large numbers insist that he is 
 still in this city. The only fact that we have any knowledge of is, 
 that McGowan has not yet been arrested bv the Vigilance Committee. 
 — //^ra/^, June 2()th. [May 30th.] 
 
 A Dark Scene. — On the 18th of June, 1856, a party of armed 
 men might be seen slowly wending (as G. P. R. James would have 
 said) up Clay Street, in the city of San Francisco, — the Queen City 
 of the Pacific, — to Stockton. Having arrived in front of a low shanty 
 on the west side of the street, they halted, and drew up in battle array. 
 The noise occasioned by their movements attracted the attention of 
 those residing in the neighborhood, and window-sashes were thrown 
 up, and nightcaps protruded in every direction. Having formed in 
 front of the dwelling, three individuals, who, by the number and 
 variety of the warlike implements each carried, seemed to occupy a 
 position of command, ascended the rude steps leading to the door of 
 the domicile, and knocked violently. Rap, rap, rap. No answer. The 
 knocking was repeated until the echo reverberated throughout the 
 whole neighborhood. At this stage of the narrative, though we 
 should lay ourselves open to the charge of being literary "Marplots," 
 we would state that the beleaguered shanty was occupied by a colored 
 gentleman, whose only offense against the peace and dignity of the 
 commonwealth was, that he, in the pursuit of a legitimate business, 
 took in the shirts of the ubiquitous McGowan and washed them. 
 Hearing the hubbub, he rushed to the door, and, placing his hands on 
 his hips, with his "eyes in a fine frenzy rolling," roared out at the 
 top of his voice, ..,,.,,^ ,^ j^^ ^^^^^j„^ ^^^ ^,^ ,,^^^, „ 
 
 A gruff voice on the outside ordered him to open it, which he accord- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 29 
 
 the usual signal made by my friends when they visited me 
 (three knocks). I opened it, and found a strange French- 
 man, who asked me, in his own language, where Gustavew?i^. 
 I answered that he was downstairs. From the scrutiniz- 
 ing manner in which he eyed me, I felt sure that he was 
 one of the Committee; and, notwithstanding my disguise, 
 which consisted of a Mexican or California hat, face brown- 
 ed, and hair and mustaches blacked, I feared, if he had ev- 
 er seen me before, that I was detected. He soon left, with- 
 out further conversation. He had no sooner gone than I 
 quitted my room, and entered a water-closet which was at 
 the head of the staircase, and commanded it. 
 
 Knowing it to be impossible to escape by the street, and 
 fearing that my hiding-place was known, I here deter- 
 mined to make a stand, and if any armed body ascended 
 the stairs to take me, to commence shooting, and sell myself 
 as dearly as possible. I remained here about an hour, 
 when, hoping that I had not been recognized, I left my posi- 
 tion and entered the room of my friend, adjoining the one I 
 had been in, taking care to hide the food and other evidence 
 of my having inhabited it. I got under my friend's bed, 
 and remained there till night. When he returned home, 
 I told him what had occurred, and he appeared to be very 
 much alarmed. He informed me that bands of the Com- 
 mittee were hunting me high and low in all parts of the 
 city, and that one H. P. A. Smith* (former member of the 
 
 ingly with trembling hands did, and the whole band rushed in and 
 ransacked the house from top to bottom, while the poor darky stood 
 inside the door, in rather a ludicrous deshabille, with his teeth chatter- 
 ing and his knees smiting each other. It is said by those who wit- 
 nessed his sad plight, that he became almost livid with fear. Not 
 having been able to poke anything out of the piles of dirty clothes 
 with which the house was filled, the armed band retired and searched 
 several other houses in the vicinity, making no distinction between 
 white and black. Whether they were searching for McGowan or a 
 dozen of superfine shirts, which he is said to have left behind in his 
 flight, could not be ascertained. [^Herald, June 20th.'] 
 
 •Domiciliary Visits. — The detective police of the Inquisition, the 
 amateur "Buckets" of the Vigilance Committee, adopting the maxim 
 that "The early bird catches the worm, "were wandering about the 
 city early on Saturday morning, in search of subjects, but we regret 
 to state they finished their labors by sunrise without securing another 
 
30 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 legislature from Marin County) was among the most 
 industrious in the search, and loudest in his denunciations 
 of me. It now struck me, for the first time, that, after all, it 
 might be more for a desire to wreak political vengeance in 
 certain quarters that my pursuers were so eager after me, 
 than from any honest belief in my complicity in Mr. King's 
 death. It is not for me, in this relation of my wrongs, to 
 make any specific charges against any one, nor do I now do 
 it; but my reasons for my suspicions were simply these: 
 
 victim for a sacrifice and practical illustration of the philosophy of 
 hanging. On Saturday morning, at four and a half o'clock, Mrs. 
 Catherine F. Hewitt, the proprietress of the Washington Saloon, on 
 Washington Street, between Dupont and Kearny streets, was awak- 
 ened by a loud noise, apparently proceeding from the entry of the 
 house occupied by her. She immediately observed a number of per- 
 sons in the entry, and, feeling greatly surprised and alarmed, went to 
 the door of her bedroom and asked them what they wanted. Where- 
 upon one of them replied that they had come to search her house. 
 She then ran to the window and screamed, whereupon one of the per- 
 sons who entered took hold of her and placed his hand over her 
 mouth, so as to prevent her making any outcry. She was so ter- 
 rified by the conduct and demeanor of the parties so entering her 
 apartment, that she fainted, and became for a time wholly uncqjiscious. 
 Some one of the party then threw a quantity of water over her person ; 
 and, after they had remained in her room for some time, they left the 
 house, and stated, previous to their departure, that they had made the 
 visit bv authority of the Vigilance Committee, in search of Edward 
 McGowan. {Herald, May 25th. '\ 
 
 Rumors. — We learned, at a late hour last night, that Judge Mc- 
 Gowan, whom the Committee are now hunting, left this city on the 
 steamer John L. Stephens, on Wednesday last. He was put aboard 
 some distance outside the Heads, in a complete state of disguise, hav- 
 ing shaved off his mustache and darkened his complexion. We give 
 the rumor for what it is worth. — Herald, May 25th \24th'\. 
 
 The Vigilance Committee. — Nothing definite could be ascer- 
 tained as to the course which the Vigilance Committee intended to 
 pursue. It is said — but we have no authority for it but street rumor 
 — that the agents of the Committee have succeeded in ferreting out 
 Judge McGowan somewhere in the interior, and that he was to be 
 brought down to this city last night; that several persons are to be 
 notified to leave in the next steamer, and that, in the event of the per- 
 sons refusing to comply with the mandate, forcible means are to be 
 resorted to. The Committee was in session yesterday morning, and 
 also again in the afternoon. They have called into existence a for- 
 midable organization. It is, we are informed, extending throughout 
 the interior of the state, and will, we presume, be converted finally 
 into a political movement. — Herald, May 2Sth. 
 
Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 31 
 
 This fellow Smith, it was well known, was a warm advocate 
 of the claims of a certain distinguished gentleman to a high 
 official position, while I was an equally zealous friend of 
 his principal opponent. Perhaps, then, it was the hope that 
 I was in the possession of some political secrets, which, if 
 divulged, would be destructive of my friend's interests, 
 which induced this man, and others of his kidney, to pursue 
 me so diligently, in the expectation that threats of death or 
 banishment would wring them from me. How shrewd my 
 suspicions were, I leave to certain political gentlemen to 
 say who appeared most patriotically to sympathize with the 
 so-called reform movement. But a few days before, this 
 man Smith had requested my influence to secure his nomi- 
 nation for one of the San Francisco seats in the legislature, 
 pledging himself to support my friend as well as his own 
 for the position above referred to. I courteously declined 
 helping him, for good and sufficient reasons, and now he 
 was at the head of a squad of "Reformers," seeking my 
 life! 
 
 It so happened that the information of my friend was 
 verified that very night; for, about two o'clock, A. m., it 
 being very dark outside, I was standing in my friend's 
 room, without a light, and with the window raised, and actu- 
 ally heard a party of my pursuers talking about me, on the 
 street beloiv ! Among others, I heard Smith, whose voice 
 
 1 recognized, exclaim, ^''The d d old rascal, I'll have 
 
 him before five days more ! ' ' When I remembered the 
 fawning manner in which he had asked my assistance only 
 a few days before, and the entirely inoffensive way in which 
 I had refused it; when I remembered the confidence with 
 which he had even borrowed from me the poor sum of his 
 passage down the Sacramento, knowing that, though a politi- 
 cal enemy and almost a stranger, he w^ould not be refused; 
 when I remembered his truckling protestations of good 
 feeling notwithstanding political differences, and then with 
 my own ears heard him speak thus of me to the pack of 
 sleuth-hounds of which he was the leader, — I confess that 
 for a moment there was murder in my heart. Instinctively 
 I grasped my knife to rush down and kill him, even though 
 it were my own last act on earth; and I believe that in the 
 fury of that moment nothing stayed me but the timely reflec- 
 
32 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 tion that I would bring destruction on an innocent friend, 
 whose roof sheltered me. If his eye falls on these pages, 
 let him not deny the truth of what I have written, for, so 
 sure as he does, his trembling lip will betray to his hearer 
 the lie it utters. He knows how truly I have spoken, and 
 his own heart best knows the motives that prompted his 
 conduct. 
 
 But let him pass. It may be of some interest now to 
 him to know all who composed his audience on that night, 
 and how near he came to meeting with a round of applause 
 to which his modest merit would, of itself, never have 
 aspired. I dismiss him to the guardianship of his own 
 conscience, and the mercy of its reproaches. 
 
 While lying under the bed in my friend's room, I had 
 observed a false face or mask, such as is generally used at 
 the fancy balls given by the French artistes in San Fran- 
 cisco. I had been out of my retreat once before, disguised 
 as a policeman, and afterward discovered by the papers 
 that I had been recognized.* My object in incurring the 
 risk was to get possession of some private papers I had 
 left in my office, but I was unsuccessful, the Committee 
 having been there before me and taken everything they 
 could find. I was now very anxious to get possession of 
 some correspondence which had passed between a gentle- 
 man (one of the foreign consuls) and myself, in reference 
 to a lady, a countrywoman of his; I had left this in a little 
 dressing-bureau in my rooms, and fearing that if it fell 
 into stranger-hands it might injure him, I determined to 
 make a second sortie, if possible, to get it. For this pur- 
 pose, I availed myself of this mask. My foolhardiness 
 may be wondered at, but the gentleman was my friend, and 
 
 * Search for McGowan. — It is now pretty well ascertained, 
 reports to the contrary notwithstanding^, that this noted individual has 
 not left the city. It is asserted positively that he was seen as late as 
 Saturday nig^ht, and followed by some members of the Vigilance 
 Committee. But he ag-ain managed to secrete himself, and elude 
 their most vigilant search. It will be rather a difficult matter for him 
 to escape detection. He has been indicted by the Grand Jury as well 
 as by the Vigilance Committee, for being accessary to the late mur- 
 der, and he must have more than ordinary good fortune to slip by and 
 escape from the Police and the Committee. --^/z'//^////, June J. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan ?ii 
 
 wrote me the notes for my own protection. I should have 
 destroyed them, but not having done so, my duty, in justice 
 to him, was, if possible, to get them. I cut the nose out of 
 the mask, blacked it, and, putting it on with my California 
 hat, sallied out. I reached my rooms unobserved, and saw 
 the landlady. At first, she did not recognize me until she 
 heard my voice, and then she was very much frightened, the 
 mask gave me such a horrible expression. I took off the 
 nose to convince her that it was I, but she refused me ad- 
 mittance, telling me that the Committee had been there and 
 taken everything, and it was useless for me to incur any 
 further risk in trying to secure any of my papers. Find- 
 ing it impossible to even get access to my rooms, I returned 
 to my hiding-place, very fortunately attracting no observa- 
 tion. 
 
 Since my return from the lower country, the Vigilance 
 Committee have restored to me my papers, but this corre- 
 spondence is not among them. I trust if, among the mem- 
 bers of the Committee, there are any of that gentleman's 
 countrymen into whose hands these papers have fallen, 
 they will return them to the source from whence they ori- 
 ginated. 
 
 The time had now come when it was absolutely neces- 
 sary for me to remove from Commercial Street. I could 
 not hope much longer to escape detection if I remained in 
 the city, and it was far better, if I had to be captured, that 
 it should be done when I might have a remote chance of 
 escape by flight, than to be taken like a bird from a cage. 
 Besides, the friend who fed me had gone to the Atlantic 
 states, and to remain there longer was impossible, as every 
 one else, who knew where I was, were watched night and 
 day. A very kind friend, who had faithfully stood to me 
 through everything, cast about him, day after day, to secure 
 me a place of safety, but in vain. I even agreed to the 
 proposition of a friend to take me to his room on Mont- 
 gomery Sti'eet, next door to the room of No. 33 Secretary of 
 the Committee. This, however, was overruled by all my 
 friends who were consulted. 
 
 At length a retreat was found for me with a pious old 
 lady, who lived a short distance from the city, on the Mis- 
 sion Dolores road. The difficulty now was, how to get me 
 
34 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 there. The outlets of the city were surrounded by armed 
 horsemen, continually on patrol, relieving each other at 
 stated hours, night and day, and all on special watch for 
 me. In a word, escape seemed impossible. 
 
 Those who were in San Francisco at that time will re- 
 member how high and fearfully public opinion ran against 
 me.* There was nothing in it of reason; no deliberate ac- 
 tion based upon proven guilt on my part; but the blind and 
 aimless fury with which the death of Mr. King seemed to 
 have fired the bosoms of the masses was, for want of a more 
 available victim, directed in a resistless torrent against me. 
 People had evidently mixed up the Thomas King affair, 
 with which it was known I was connected, with the death 
 of James King of Wm. Every witness summoned before 
 the Committee was greeted with the question, "What do 
 you know of McGowan \ ' ' Col. A. J. Gamble, as an in- 
 stance, was cited to appear before them, and gave in his 
 evidence touching a conversation I had at Mr. Hunt's sta- 
 bles the day before James King of Wm. was shot. Subse- 
 quently he was recalled, and his testimony being read over 
 
 * Bulletin, June 2d. — Should Ned McGowan fall into the hands of 
 the Vigilance Committee, and receive the punishment he so justly 
 merits, he would a tale unfold that would make the quills of the por- 
 cupine stand erect. We think the porcupine comparison quite appli- 
 cable. The naturalist tells us it is [one of] tlie most destructive of all ani- 
 mals, and lives on the bark of trees, and when it has attacked a tree, 
 never leaves until it has completely stripped it of all the bark on 
 trunk and branches. And so with these political leeches, they will 
 hang on and return so long as there is a drop of blood to be drawn 
 from this outraged community. Out upon the heartless hypocrites ! 
 In our opinion, these men, Iscariot-like, would sell their best friend 
 for even less than thirty pieces. 
 
 Creditors of Adams Gf Co. — Did it ever occur to you that the 
 speediest way to get that |100,000 out of the hands of P., C, Gf Co. 
 would be to find the whereabouts of Ned McGowan ? They would 
 let your, as well as the city and county, money flow like water ere 
 they would run the risk of his disclosures. 
 
 Gentlemen of the Vigilance Committee — Did it ever strike 
 you that the best place to look for the aforesaid Ned would be in the 
 state prison or some county jail? Ned is a "law-and-order man," 
 and, like all villains of his class, would flee to his friends — the minis- 
 ters of the law — for protection. Such scamps love "law and order," 
 but it is the law of their own making, and after their own order. 
 
Naf-rative of P^dward McGowan 35 
 
 to him, he pronounced it correct, except that Thomas S. 
 King should appear throughout where James King of Wm. 
 appeared. The conversation was about the other affair! 
 
 Thus a portion of the mob, mistaking one affair for the 
 other, persecuted me perhaps from an honest conviction of 
 my guih. The other portion, and they the leaders, in de- 
 fault of proof against me, but absolutely knowing my inno- 
 cence, joined the hue and cry through blind rage at the 
 death of King.* Another portion, and they the politicians 
 opposed to me, threw themselves on the top of the wave, 
 and circulated wonderful stories about ballot-box frauds. 
 McGowan was a politician, boxes had been stuffed, perhaps, 
 at primary elections, consequently McGowan was a ballot- 
 box stuffer, and must die ; and, under all this pressure, even 
 the Grand Jury had to yield. When the question of indict- 
 ment came before them, there was no evidence on which to 
 find the bill. The foreman of the jury, Mr. Thomas J. 
 Poulterer, than whom a more worthy and respectable gen- 
 tleman does not live in San Francisco, told the District At- 
 torney, Mr. Byrne, that there was no evidence to warrant 
 an indictment, but it was of no avail. On the jury there 
 were many friends of the Committee; one of them (one 
 Jobson ) my bitter personal enemy! Add to that the tre- 
 mendous howl from without, and the weak nerve which, in 
 that hour of peril, induced the District Attorney to tell Mr. 
 Poulterer that if they believed I knew anything about the 
 matter prior to the shooting of King, the jury were bound 
 to indict, and it will be seen how even my indictment was 
 found in response to a wild and unreasonable demand of 
 the populace. 
 
 Such was the state of the public mind with regard to me. 
 
 * The day before Casey was hung, a friend was admitted to see 
 him. This gentleman is now holding an honorable position under 
 the Federal government. He was allowed to speak to him in the 
 presence of Captain Aaron Burns, a member of the Executive Com- 
 mittee of Vigilance. It was the last time he was permitted to see a 
 friend (except one other, Mr. Charles Gallagher) in this life. This 
 gentleman questioned him about my connection with the death of 
 James King of Wm., and he stated that I was entirely free from all 
 complicity in it, and if I was present, nothing but curiosity or a pen- 
 chant for such sights prompted me to be there. 
 
36 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 and such had been the measures adopted to prevent my es- 
 cape when the time arrived for me to attempt it. After 
 much time had been spent in consultation among my friends 
 as to the best plan to be pursued, it was at length decided 
 that my own proposition was the best; which was, to dis- 
 guise myself, and walk boldly forth through my enemies. 
 Accordingly, arrangements were made for me to leave my 
 hiding-place just at lamplight on the evening of the third 
 of June. My friend was to send some one to me, and not 
 come himself, as it was considered dangerous for him to 
 again visit me, he being by this time very narrowly watch- 
 ed.* He applied to at least twenty persons to come and 
 make with me the arrangements, but none of them dare 
 come near me, and he was at last obliged to do it himself. 
 He came, and it was agreed that he should meet me with 
 a carriage on the Mission road. Before he left, I struck a 
 light, and asked him if he would know me. He appeared 
 astonished at my disguise, and said he would not. My 
 face, hair, and mustaches were blacked with pomatum 
 and shoe-blacking, my stomach was drawn in and confined 
 with a pair of French stays, and over my clothes 1 had an 
 overcoat, with a derringer in each pocket. 1 also had on 
 my slouched hat, and a pair of derringers in my panta- 
 loons pockets, together with a six-shooter and a knife in 
 my belt. Thus armed and disguised, as soon as my friend 
 had left 1 sallied forth alone. Jt was just in the dusk of 
 the evening as I walked up Commercial Street, toward 
 Kearny, on my way to the Mission. I passed several 
 
 *The following is taken from the Herald of May 28th [26th] : — 
 Rumors. — Yesterday, Merchant Streetwascloselywatched through- 
 out the entire day. It was thought by the Vigilance Committee that 
 Edward McGowan was somewhere concealed in that neighborhood, 
 and therefore every person that was known to be intimate with him 
 was watched wherever he went. 
 
 Vigilance Committee. — Everything was quiet around the Com- 
 mittee rooms yesterday. Matters remain in the same condition to- 
 day. Late last evening, word was comnumicated that Ned McGowan 
 was seen to go into the building at the corner of Sutter and Kearny 
 streets, where he had a room. A portion of the Committee, soon af- 
 ter, surrounded the building, and early this morning a thorough search 
 was instituted, but he could not be found. — Bulletin^ June h\. 
 
38 Naj-rat'ive of Edward McGowan 
 
 whom I knew standing in front of Whipple's club-house, 
 and afterward, on the road, I met Mr. Dan Sweeney and 
 Sandy Marshall. None of them, however, recognized me 
 for a moment. I walked boldly out Kearny Street, and, as 
 I went, found many a fearful reminder of my peril, in tramp- 
 ing hoofs and clashing sabers. I could not forget, in a 
 thousand centuries, the feeling of mingled hope and horror 
 with which I walked, that evening, an unjustly outlawed 
 man, through the hosts of my enemies. 
 
 It was not the fear of death itself that made these 
 moments terrible; for death I could face, and had faced 
 before. But it was the thought of such a death as awaited 
 me in the event of my capture, and the reflection that myri- 
 ads of tongues would ring into the ears of my children 
 how ignobly their father died, but none would tell them how 
 unjustly. The starlight that glistened back from the 
 sabers of my enemies was not more quick and sudden in its 
 coming and its going than the changes of my thoughts 
 from hope to fear, and back again from fear to hope, as, 
 marking every incident around me, I walked unquestioned 
 and unheeded through the meshes of the net my persecu- 
 tors had thrown about me. Thanks to a kind Providence, 
 I at length was enabled to draw a long breath, on the Mis- 
 sion road, far beyond the outmost sentinel. 1 here met my 
 friend with the carriage, who was surprised to see me out 
 so soon. I talked and laughed with him, for it appeared as 
 though a mountain had been lifted from my soul in the last 
 half-hour. He reproved my ill-timed merriment, in his 
 anxiety for my safety, and told me I had been so long an 
 outlaw I must have got used to it. I told him I did not 
 intend to die but once. May he never undergo the agony 
 of mind necessary for him fully to appreciate my happiness 
 at that moment. We turned around and went back toward 
 the city, to the place which was to be my refuge during the 
 rest of my stay in the neighborhood of San Francisco. 
 This, as before stated, was the house of a pious old 
 lady, a member of the Baptist Church. She lived on 
 the Mission road, with no companion but one sweet 
 little daughter, about ten years of age. This child was 
 going to school in the neighborhood, and I was at first 
 fearful that she might betray me. I knew that children 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 39 
 
 of her age generally had some little female friend, or some 
 lad whom they called sweetheart, to whom they told all 
 their little secrets. I found she had a sweetheart, and she 
 told me who it was. I asked her if she knew the impor- 
 tance of keeping my secret, and she said she did, and 
 would keep it. I told her that I had four boys, one of 
 them no bigger than herself, and if she were to tell any- 
 body that I was there, men would come with guns and take 
 me and kill me, and then my four little boys would be 
 without anybody to love and protect them, and they would 
 think it was her fault, and would not like her or her mother. 
 In this way I awaked the dear little thing's sympathy, and 
 I felt quite sure from the way she listened to me that she 
 would never tell her sweetheart or any one else of my 
 being in her mother's house. I then asked her what kind 
 of silk dress she would like to have, and she told me she 
 would like to have a pretty plaid silk; so I got the old 
 lady the next day to go out and buy her one, and little 
 "Ariel" and I became sworn friends. 
 
 The front part of the house was not inhabited, and the 
 next morning, when the old lady had gone out, I took up 
 two of the planks in the floor of the kitchen, to provide 
 myself with a hiding-place in case of necessity. That day 
 my kind hostess prepared for me quite a sumptuous dinner. 
 1 suspected that she was somewhat changing her usual 
 mode of living, and this I objected to for various reasons. 
 
 I told the old lady that I wanted plain food, as, in all 
 probability, if the Committee did not disband, I would be 
 compelled to take a long and tedious journey, and wanted, 
 by way of preparation, to accustom myself to rough fare. 
 To this end I also changed my drink, and in the place 
 of brandy and water, to which I had been accustomed, I 
 took gin. There was also danger in the tradespeople 
 remarking an alteration in her style of living, and I 
 reminded her of the story of the French gentleman who, 
 in the "Reign of Terror" in Paris, secreted himself at his 
 washerwoman's house, and she, imprudently enough, so 
 changed her style of living on his account, that her neigh- 
 bors, who were of the Robespierre faction, remarked it, 
 and searched her house, where her friend was arrested, 
 and subsequently guillotined. Accordingly, she went back 
 
4U Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 to her old style of living, and we got on very comfortably. 
 I remained with this good old lady about four weeks, 
 during which time nothing worthy of note occurred. My 
 friend, who visited me twice a week, brought me all the 
 papers, and I had the pleasure of reading all the kind and 
 good-natured things that were said of me, and also all the 
 profound surmises as to my whereabouts. * It was while I 
 
 *Ned McGovvan. — Notwithstanding- it has been reported that the 
 individual whose name heads this parag^raph left on the Sea Bird last 
 Saturday, he was seen by several parties in the city last evening- 5 a 
 fact which appears strange to us, when it is well known the Vigilance 
 Committee have been diligently searching- for him. It will hardly 
 be fair to punish Casey only, for a crime of which others are equally 
 guilty. — T'o^vn Talk^ May 23. 
 
 Ned McGowan. — This ubiquitous individual, who appears to 
 have as many hiding-places as a cat has lives, was reported last even- 
 ing as having been taken at the State Marine Hospital, which, in 
 common with other reports, proved to be without foundation. It has 
 been said that McGowan has been seen on board of a storeship in 
 the harbor; again, that he is stowed away in one of the steamboats 
 off Mission Creek, and a hundred other surmises equally as absurd. 
 We are of the opinion that if the Committee do track the ftigitive to 
 his lair, it will be when he is napping, as his cunning and ingenuity 
 are proverbial. We hope, however, that it will not be long before 
 he is safe in the hands of the Committee. — Ih. 
 
 Still after McGowan. — Quite a nuiuber of members of the 
 Vigilance Committee, with perhaps some of the police, w^ere keeping 
 close watch upon and around a block fronting- upon Stockton Street, 
 yesterday afternoon. It was finally concluded that they were upon 
 the wrong scent. If Ned be in the city, he has firm and shrewd 
 friends who know how to conceal him. Among- so many reports as 
 to his whereabouts, it is impossible to say which is true, or whether 
 any be true. — Chronicle., Jutie 10. 
 
 Aquatic Sin)Rrs of the CoMMrriEE. — Towards the close of 
 yesterday, considerable excitement prevailed. The Committee, having 
 received some information that McGowan had been conveyed on 
 board of some vessel which was to put to sea tliis morning, chartered 
 the steam-tug Martin Wliite, Captain H. A. Cheever, and started in 
 pursuit. At an early hour in the afternoon, the Martin White got up 
 steam and cleared. The chase was anxiously viewed from Telegraph 
 Hill. Two schooners were observed crowding all their sail to make 
 the Gate. The Martin White puffed and labored, and appeared to 
 g-ain on the schooners steadily. The chase became exciting. The 
 schooners were the Queen of the West and the Francisco. In a short 
 time the Martin White came alongside. The schooners were over- 
 hauled, but, as the sequel will show, no discovery was made. By this 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 41 
 
 was at this house that I received the agreeable, though 
 rather surprising, information that I was in Carson Valley. 
 A kind friend had started the story for the purpose of throw- 
 ing my pursuers off the scent, and I here beg to tender 
 him my most heartfelt thanks for his good offices.* 
 
 time the excitement in town became intense. It was rumored that 
 McGowan had been captured, and a rush was accordingly made to 
 the wharves to obtain a glance at the ubiquitous individual, about 
 whose whereabouts so much had been said. At length, the Martin 
 White hove in sight. The people rushed. She came alongside the 
 wharf. A large number of the parcels of the Committee came 
 ashore. They brought with them an ominous-looking box, about six 
 feet in length, wrapped in blankets. The rumor was immediately 
 circulated that the aforesaid box contained the mortal remains of the 
 ubiquitous McGowan. It was generally believed. The box was 
 placed on a cart; it was conveyed to the rooms of the Vigilance 
 Committee; it was carefully brought upstairs; five thousand people 
 witnessed the sight. In concluding this account of the aquatic 
 sports of the Committee, we would state that, from all the inquiries 
 that -we have made on the subject, we are of the opinion that the box 
 over which so much parade was made did not contain the remains of 
 McGowan, and that it was filled with tower-muskets, warranted by 
 the maker not to explode. — San Francisco Herald^ May 27 \29^. 
 
 *The following appeared in the Daily ToTvn Talk of June 25th: — 
 
 Ned McGowan near Carson Valley. — This notorious individ- 
 ual is said to have been met by a Mr. David J. Barnes, from Mis- 
 souri, at a place called Silver Creek, just below Carson Valley. Mr. 
 Barnes had been wintering at Bear River, on his way to this state, and 
 on his way across the mountains met a man at Silver Creek, called 
 Judge McGowan, who, in company with five other persons, was 
 spending his time in hunting. From an article in reference to the 
 discovery of this noted character, in the Sacramento Spirit of the Age 
 of yesterday, and telegraphed to the Ex'ening Bulletin, we glean the 
 following: — 
 
 Says Mr. Barnes: "After I camped in the evening, I went down 
 to their camp, some four or five miles off the road. They had lost 
 one of their horses. They (four men) came to my camp next morn- 
 ing. One of them said, 'Judge McGowan, you can send that saddle 
 to Placerville by this emigrant. ' The men reported that they were 
 hunting, and sometimes prospecting." 
 
 Mr. Barnes brought the saddle with him to Placerville, and endeav- 
 ored to leave it at a hotel, as directed, but the landlord refused to ac- 
 cept it, or Barnes either. He then brought it to this city, and left it at 
 the store of Heard <£f Osborn, where it remains, subject to the order 
 of Judge McGowan. 
 
 Mr. Barnes reports that when he asked w hat name he should leave 
 with the saddle, McGowan answered, "No matter what name — just 
 leave it there till called for." McGowan' s party were apparently out 
 of provisions. 
 
 [4] 
 
42 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 I knew more of what was going on inside the Committee 
 rooms — except the Executive room — than many who be- 
 longed to them. The Law and Order party had their spies 
 in the Vigilance camp, as, doubtless, they had theirs in ours. 
 I used frequently to see the Light Brigade drilling, with 
 John M. Freeman and Frank Baker in command. One 
 day I distinctly heard John give the word of command, — 
 "Trot!" The first day I saw them, although, as I after- 
 ward learned, they numbered but a hundred men, they 
 looked very numerous, and I thought they had come to sur- 
 round the neighborhood. I was about to get into my hid- 
 ing-place under the floor, but, after looking at them a few 
 moments longer, I saw that they were only exercising. A 
 pretty-looking set they were ! charging and slashing around, 
 and mowing down fictitious enemies with the most brilliant 
 gallantry imaginable. I could not help wondering how 
 long some of those heavy-set Dutchmen and tape-selling 
 Bayards would have kept their clumsy seats if charged up- 
 on by half a dozen well-mounted and determined men. 
 They "were a motley crew." Most of them appeared to 
 have quite as much on their hands as they could well at- 
 tend to in managing their sabers and bridle-reins and 
 sticking to their saddles, without the additional trouble of 
 attempting to learn cavalry manoeuvers. O puissant 
 warriors ! had you only have known that one weak old 
 man, whose imaginary sins had awakened your terrible 
 wrath, and marshaled you in that awful battle array, was 
 calmly amusing himself by looking at you at the distance 
 of a few hundred yards, what a gala day would it have 
 been for you ! You would have dismounted and given up 
 your ridiculous attempts to ape the soldier, and most incon- 
 tinently, then and there, proceeded to tie a rope around my 
 old neck and hang me up to the first telegraph-post. And, 
 in good sooth, it were an occupation better befitting your 
 natural gifts and tastes than that of endeavoring to play the 
 part of chivalry, which, in order to be successfully done, 
 requires some modicum of the gentleman. 
 
 While I was in this place, 1 lived in hope, from day to 
 day, that the lawless proceedings of the Vigilance Commit- 
 tee would be put a stop to, either by force of arms or other- 
 wise, I understood that the Law and Order forces were 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 43 
 
 preparing, when they had a sufficient number of arms, to 
 compel the Committee to disband. And although it was 
 generally understood by their best military men that mat- 
 ters had been and were being managed very badly for 
 them, still I shared the hope entertained by many, that 
 something would finally be done. The fatal mistake was 
 that of leaving their forces and arms scattered about in va- 
 rious defenseless armories, where they could at any time 
 be taken in detail by the Committee's superior numbers, 
 instead of going at once into an encampment, and thus con- 
 centrating their strength and forming a nucleus around 
 which their friends from the mountains could rally; and to 
 this mistake the Vigilance Committee may attribute their 
 undeserved success. The proper orders, however, did not 
 come from headquarters, and the junior officers had only 
 to lie on their arms and swallow their chagrin. My friend 
 had promised me, that if a fight took place, I should be noti- 
 fied of it in time to participate. When, however, the man 
 Hopkins was stabbed by Judge Terry, and the Committee 
 availed themselves of the occasion to take the arms of the 
 state, my hopes died within me. The effects of the wretch- 
 ed policy that had been pursued were then, as had been 
 predicted, felt, when too late to remedy them, and the sup- 
 porters of the constitution and the laws were left not only 
 powerless to maintain their cause, but exposed, personally 
 naked and defenseless, to the pitiless storm of treason and 
 fanaticism that swept over the city. I became disgusted 
 and disheartened, and begged my friend to set his wits to 
 work to devise some means by which I could leave the 
 county of San Francisco. It mattered not to me where I 
 went, so that I could but go, and go speedily. I not only 
 was in peril of my life by remaining, but, had I not been, 
 I no longer desired to breathe the polluted air of the Doom- 
 ed City. At length, matters were arranged and the plan 
 formed for my departure. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 If there fled 
 One Argive from the slaughter, be it said 
 Of old Adrastus he hath learned to fly; — 
 We count it death to falter, not to die. 
 
 Trans. Ancient Poem. 
 
 pRiDAY evening, the 27th of June, — the day that Judge 
 Terry's trial before the Vigilance Committee commenced, 
 and while the Executive Committee were busily engaged 
 in that gentleman's case, — was the time fixed for my flight 
 from San Francisco. I was to endeavor to make my way 
 home to Philadelphia, by the southern route, through Mex- 
 ico. I did not much like to start on a Friday, inasmuch 
 as it was hangman s or Vigilante day; and I have never 
 been entirely free from superstition. However, as the 
 journey was not properly to commence until the following 
 day, I overcame my scruples, and prepared for the start. 
 My friend called early in the evening to inform me that 
 all was arranged, and the horses, together with a guide who 
 had been provided, (James Dennison, ) and a companion, 
 were in waiting at the Mission Dolores, so that all 1 had 
 to do was to go there, mount, and ride for life. 
 
 I bid an affectionate farewell to the good and kind lady 
 who had sheltered me, kissed the faithful little "Ariel," 
 who had kept my secret, and, thoroughly disguised, stepped 
 out into the night, and, accompanied by my friend, bent my 
 steps toward the Mission. Having arrived there, and found 
 everything in readiness, I put on my spurs, embraced my 
 
 44 
 
46 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 kind friend, who had been more than a brother to me, — may 
 God reward him, — and mounted the good horse who was 
 to carry me, I trusted, safely from danger. 
 
 I felt sad, very sad, not only at parting with my true and 
 faithful friend who had been so constant and so kind through- 
 out my many perils, but also at leaving the city of San 
 Francisco. An hour before, I was all anxiety to turn my 
 back upon it forever, but when the time of parting came, 
 involuntarily my mind recurred to the many happy days I 
 had passed there, and the many friends whose cheerful 
 smile and pleasant laugh I was, as I supposed, on that even- 
 ing bidding farewell to forever. 1 kissed my hand to my 
 friend, and, turning my head toward the city, notwithstand- 
 ing the dreadful plague-spot that marred its beauty, I bid 
 it a sorrowful yet affectionate "good night." 
 
 So soon as the form of my friend had vanished in the 
 darkness, I turned to Dennison, and said to him I could 
 not make up my mind to leave until I had said "good by" 
 to my old friend William Shear, the proprietor of the 
 Nightingale. I was near his hospitable threshold, and I 
 felt as though I was acting meanly to depart without say- 
 ing farewell to an old and tried friend. Dennison at once 
 rode up and called Shear out. He came and shook me 
 warmly by the hand, telling me for God's sake to take care 
 of myself; that the Committee, unless I was very cautious, 
 would certainly hang me. "That is," said I, "if they catch 
 me." He brought me out two bottles of his best old bran- 
 dy, to comfort me, as he said, on the journey. All this 
 while my friend, who I supposed had gone back to town, 
 was within a few yards of me, and, seeing me talking to 
 some one, came back, and was perfectly furious at my te- 
 merity in taking so many chances. While he was upbraid- 
 ing me, I waved my hand to him and Shear, put spurs to 
 my horse, and galloped away. 
 
 That night we were only to ride to Dennison' s raiicho at 
 Halfmoon Bay, a distance of about twenty-five miles from 
 the Mission, in what is now the county of San Mateo. We 
 had to traverse a rugged mountain road, bad enough in the 
 daytime, but at night, except on the surest-footed beasts, 
 almost impassable. Our object was to keep off the main 
 roads as much as possible, both night and day. However, 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 47 
 
 we got on pretty well till within about three miles of our 
 stopping-place, when my horse, who was quite a colt, and 
 full of spirit, knowing that he was approaching home, start- 
 ed to run, and threw me. I fell very heavily, and was bad- 
 ly hurt. Indeed, I thought for a time that my back must 
 be broken. He did not run far, hov^ever, before the Cali- 
 fornian who accompanied us caught him. I could scarcely 
 walk, my back pained me so dreadfully. I knew, though, 
 what I had to go through in the journey before me, and 
 thinking it too soon to begin to complain, I again mounted 
 with great difficulty, assisted by my companions, and rode 
 on to the house. It was daylight when we reached the end 
 of our ride, and right glad I was to have an opportunity to 
 rest. I went to bed and slept until eleven o'clock, a. m., 
 when I arose, and while I took breakfast Dennison and the 
 Californian — who, by the way, was his brother-in-law — 
 caught the horses that we were to take with us for the 
 journey. This Californian, whose name will figure consid- 
 erably in this narrative, I may as well here describe. His 
 name is Ramon Valencia. He is very dark-complexioned, 
 though his skin is as soft and polished as a woman's. He 
 is of medium stature, very well formed, and has most ex- 
 pressive features, a fine bright and intelligent eye, a 
 great deal of vivacity, and much good sense. He had mar- 
 ried the sister of my friend Dennison, but had lost her un- 
 der most unhappy circumstances. He was very kind-heart- 
 ed, and many a weary mile he beguiled by his agreeable 
 chat in broken English. I can never forget his kindness 
 to me during my weary pilgrimage, and beg now to offer 
 him my thanks and good wishes for his future. Would 
 that it were in my power to return him even one of his 
 many disinterested and generous acts of friendship to me. 
 
 Dennison selected six of his finest California horses, and 
 in another hour we were in the saddle and had commenced 
 our journey. I felt very sore from my fall of the preceding 
 night, but said nothing about it, determined to bear up un- 
 til I had placed many leagues between myself and danger. 
 Nothing in the way of incident occurred to us during that 
 day' s travel. We followed the Coast Range, always keeping, 
 as far as possible, the trails, and avoiding the main road. 
 
 After crossing the Santa Cruz line, 1 was struck with the 
 
48 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 splendor of the scenery. Living so long pent up among 
 the brick-and-mortar walls of San Francisco, I was pre- 
 pared to enjoy with a peculiar zest the loveliness of nature. 
 It was midsummer, and the plains and hillsides were 
 decked in their gayest robes. Flowers of every odor and 
 every hue were shov^^ered lavishly over the landscape; and 
 the sweet breeze that came to our nostrils, laden with their 
 perfume, also brought to our ears the songs of a thousand 
 birds, who, in the recklessness of their joy, seemed to mock 
 my sorrows; and I confess, as I bounded along on my act- 
 ive little horse, drinking to the fill of nature's fresh, deli- 
 cious charms, I forgot that I was a fugitive, and that my 
 path of flight from death lay through all that made life 
 most lovely. 
 
 The termination of that day's ride was a little Spanish 
 settlement near the coast, called the Pescadei^o, where we 
 found only a few Californians and two or three Americans. 
 It is some twenty-five or thirty miles south of the ranch of 
 my friend Dennison, which we had left in the morning. 
 We arrived there just before dusk, and found quarters with 
 a California widow lady. She was, like all her country- 
 women, a most kind-hearted and estimable soul. There 
 were several houses in the place, but none near hers, and 
 this was our reason for selecting our quarters with her. 
 
 Dennison and I thought that, in the event of our being 
 pursued, it was as well to cover up our tracks as well as 
 possible, and give rise to as little surmise as we could as to 
 who we were. Accordingly, he told the widow that I was 
 an American priest traveling through southern California 
 for the purpose of visiting the various Missions, and obtain- 
 ing material for a book I was writing concerning their his- 
 tory. At the same time, to guard against accidents, he 
 informed her at once that I could speak no Spanish. Of 
 course the Californian, Ramon, was in the secret. This 
 introduction was sufficient to insure Padre Don Eduardo 
 — as Dennison called me — a good supper, the best bed in 
 the house, and the attention and respect of everybody, great 
 and small, about the premises. I was born and educated 
 in the Roman Catholic Church, and when the old lady and 
 her daughter, who spoke a little English, were making my 
 bed, I made the sign of the cross,^ — not in derision, — far 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 49 
 
 from it. I thanked God for my safe deliverance from my 
 enemies so far, and repeated the prayers of the Church. 
 
 In the morning, I found a very nice breakfast prepared 
 for me, and, having finished it, we got ready to resume our 
 journey. I asked the widow for my bill, but she replied, 
 Nada, nada, Padre, and seemed astonished that I should 
 suppose any charge would be made to a priest in her house. 
 I managed, however, after a good deal of persuasion, to get 
 her to accept a five- dollar piece. All being in readiness, 
 I bid the old lady good by, and we mounted and com- 
 menced our second day's journey. 
 
 We were to travel, that day, as far as the city of Santa 
 Cruz, distant forty miles from the Pescadero. We 
 attempted, in pursuance of our invariable plan, to avoid the 
 main road, and started along the sea-beach, but soon found 
 that the road was impracticable. We came to a point ren- 
 dered impassable by the high tide, and were compelled to 
 turn back and follow the public road. We met no one, 
 however, except a nephew of ex-Governor McDougal, 
 who was going to a sheep-ranch near Santa Cruz. He 
 looked very hard at me, and asked me if my name was not 
 Johnstone, and if I did not live at Halfmoon Bay. I 
 knew the gentleman he took me for, and answered "Yes." 
 Thus I passed myself on him for James Johnstone, Esq. , 
 an old friend of mine, and owner of a large tract of land 
 at Halfmoon Bay. He was a mere lad, not over sixteen 
 years of age, and had been on the road, alone, for three days. 
 He asked me if I knew his uncle. Governor John McDou- 
 gal; I replied that I did, and that his uncle George was 
 an old friend of mine. I also told him that I was slightly 
 acquainted with his father. Colonel William McDougal, when 
 he was a member of the state legislature. Poor little 
 fellow ! he little dreamed that the man who knew his peo- 
 ple so well was a fugitive for his life. He traveled with 
 us until we had crossed a small river a few miles this side 
 of Santa Cruz, which we had to swim, and then left us, 
 having arrived at the place of his destination. We con- 
 tinued on toward the city. The ride was, of course, the 
 more tedious to me on account of the soreness which I still 
 felt from my fall. 
 
 On arriving within about half a mile of the town, Den- 
 c 
 
50 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 nison proposed that 1 should wait outside while he and 
 Ramon went in to reconnoiter. It was desirable, if possi- 
 ble, to pass Santa Cruz without goiny; through it, the more 
 especially as it was Sunday, and almost everybody from the 
 country was in town. Besides, we had no means of know- 
 ing what reports might have reached there with regard to 
 my flight, nor how the people stood affected as to the Vigi- 
 lance Committee. Accordingly, Ramon furnished me with 
 a fresh horse, and, while he and Dennison rode into town, I 
 fastened him to a fence in a lane near the city, and hid 
 myself in a ditch hard by until they should return. The 
 heat and fatigue of the day had thrown me into a burning 
 fever. There was very little water in the ditch, and a 
 great many cattle about it. Nevertheless, I had to drink 
 every few minutes, notwithstanding I discovered, from the 
 singular taste of the water, that, in the language of Dr. 
 Ollapod, "the cows had been here." Ramon and Denni- 
 son did not return for three hours. At last they came, 
 having ascertained the only feasible route without having 
 to inquire while I was with them. They informed me that 
 it was necessary we should travel some fifteen miles far- 
 ther, in order to get to a suitable stopping-place. Accord- 
 ingly, all sick and sore as 1 was, I again mounted, and we 
 galloped straight through the town without let or hindrance. 
 
 On the outskirts on the other side, we fell in with one 
 of the brothers Castro, — a family well known in that sec- 
 tion of the state. He was a relative of Ramon, and ap- 
 peared delighted to see him. Dennison told him the old 
 story about my being an American priest unable to speak 
 Spanish, which was, of course, enough to insure me his 
 good will and respect. 
 
 This Castro sympathized with the Vigilance Committee. 
 His reason for it was that he thought it was a demonstra- 
 tion against the judges and lawyers. He had been sub- 
 jected to many vexatious land suits, as he said, and, besides, 
 disliked "los Yankees, "as he called the Americans. One of 
 them had married one of his daughters, and inveigled him 
 into a speculation of building a grist and saw mill, by which 
 he had lost several thousand dollars. It stood upon the 
 opposite side of the town; indeed, the ditch above men- 
 tioned, in which I was hid, was the mill-race of the estab- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 51 
 
 lishment. There was not enough water in it to swim a 
 toy boat, much less to turn a wheel for a mill. 
 
 We soon parted company with this gentleman, and rode 
 on until we reached the hacienda of his brother, distant 
 some fifteen miles from the city of Santa Cruz, where 
 we stopped for the night. This hacienda was, in itself, quite a 
 little village. The mansion, although built of adobes, was 
 unlike the generality of California houses. It has been 
 built since the acquisition of the country by the Americans. It 
 is a large, well-finished two-story house. What particu- 
 larly struck me about it was the ceiling of the upper rooms, 
 which was composed of most beautiful colored wood. 
 There were, in all, some fifty persons about the premises. 
 
 These were the daughters, sons-in-law, and other rela- 
 tives of the master, together with his dependents, servants, 
 etc. As soon as we entered the house, our host embraced 
 his relative Ramon, and welcomed us very kindly. Our 
 horses were cared for, and after we had partaken of a fine 
 repast, the old gentleman invited us upstairs into a sort of 
 drawing-room or parlor. 
 
 Here we found a large number of persons of both sexes, 
 who seemed to be gathered there as at a sort of evening 
 party. Our host directed some of his people to play for us, 
 which they did delightfully. It is seldom that one fails to 
 observe about these large haciendas some four or five mu- 
 sicians who play upon instruments for the amusement of 
 the household. It being Sunday night, after nine o'clock 
 the dancing commenced. My friend Dennison, who is a 
 very fine-looking fellow, and perfectly posted in the cus- 
 toms of the country, had brought with him a suitable dress 
 for the occasion, and, being a good dancer, figured very gay- 
 ly in the revels. He spoke the language of the country 
 very fluently, was quite a beau, and apparently a great fa- 
 vorite with the dark-eyed sehoritas. Ramon also took an 
 active part in the festivities, while a son-in-law of my host, 
 who spoke English, and myself entertained each other in 
 conversation. Thus the evening passed off very pleasant- 
 ly. Long before the dancers had begun to flag, I retired 
 for the night to a good bed and sound sleep. 
 
 While at breakfast the next morning, the old gentleman, 
 through Dennison, who interpreted, asked me a great many 
 
52 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 questions. We had dropped the character of the priest, and I 
 found that the title of Judge gained for me the respect of all. 
 He asked me, among other things, how old I was. 1 told him 
 forty-three. He replied that 1 must be at least sixty. "Why," 
 said he, "I look younger than you, and I am fifty-five." I 
 should suppose, from his appearance, that that was about 
 his age. He was very large, probably weighing from two 
 hundred to two hundred and twenty-five pounds. I must 
 have looked much older than forty-three, for my beard was 
 quite white, and I had not shaved for six weeks. As there 
 was no necessity, however, for deceiving him with regard 
 to my age, I told him the truth, — that I was forty-three. 
 He said that he had observed the Americans to be like 
 women in this respect, — that they never told their real age. 
 
 We remained at the hospitable mansion of the old gen- 
 tleman nearly all that day, waiting for one of his sons to 
 get ready, who was to accompany us as far as San Luis 
 Obispo, a distance of two hundred miles. He was going in 
 search of a younger brother, who had wandered away from 
 home in company with some Sonorans. He was the 
 youngest child, and they were anxious to get him. back. 
 Mr. Castro's family are as fine specimens of the old Cali- 
 fornians as one would wish to see. The old gentleman 
 himself, hale, hearty, and robust, with a frank, manly coun- 
 tenance, bespeaking the kindness and benevolence of his 
 heart; his sons, tall, active, and graceful, and withal very 
 intelligent. His wife, a good-natured, amiable, and lively 
 old lady, still retaining the traces of her youthful beauty; 
 while her daughters are possessed of all the bewitching lit- 
 tle graces of mind and body which make the Spanish beauty 
 so irresistible. Long shall I remember the happy hours of 
 respite from sorrow and anxiety which I enjoyed under 
 that hospitable roof, and I here again and again thank 
 them from the bottom of my heart for their kindness to 
 me. 
 
 At length, young Castro being ready, and having caught 
 four fine horses for his journey, we bade adieu to our kind 
 host and hostess, and in the cool of the afternoon again de- 
 parted on our way. We rode, that evening, some twenty 
 miles, leisurely cantering along the road, driving before us 
 our spare horses, now numbering ten in all. A little after 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 53 
 
 night we stopped at the house of , a Mexi- 
 can, whose name I have forgotten. Here we found toler- 
 able quarters, and were amused by the story of our host's 
 adventures during the war with Mexico. He had been a 
 lieutenant in Santa Anna's army, and, in one of the engage- 
 ments with General Scott's forces, was taken prisoner. His 
 strong resemblance to an Irishman, who had deserted from 
 the American ranks, nearly proved fatal to him. Indeed, 
 he was about to be ordered to be shot, but managed at the 
 last moment to convince the Americans that he was really 
 a Mexican. He lived here on a little ranch of his own, 
 and stated that before the war he had been acting in the 
 capacity of private secretary to one of the governors of 
 California. He was an important witness in many of the 
 land cases then and now pending. 
 
 We retired for the night, intending to make an early 
 start in the morning, and, if possible, spend our Fourth of 
 July in Santa Barbara, distant three hundred miles. I 
 slept very well and enjoyed my rest, and, after breakfast 
 on the following morning, the first day of July, we left San- 
 ta Cruz County and entered Monterey. We considered 
 that, after passing through San Juan, — a little town in Mon- 
 terey County, — we should be fairly on our journey, and I 
 out of danger; for from that point we would bid adieu to 
 the "white settlements" and enter the hospitable land of 
 the Spaniard. I now began to get accustomed to riding, 
 which at first fatigued me dreadfully. When I started, I 
 was very fat, weighing one hundred and eighty-two pounds, 
 and entirely unused to exercise. Add to this the entire 
 novelty, to me, of our mode of traveling, and it may be 
 imagined that I suffered not a little. I was getting the 
 better of it, however, by this time, notwithstanding I was 
 still very sore from my fall. We started away at a slash- 
 ing pace. It was a lovely morning; our horses felt fresh, 
 and we were in good spirits. There are many beauties in 
 the scenery of Monterey, but I saw nothing that struck me 
 as agreeably as the flowery carpet of Santa Cruz. It was 
 just twenty-seven miles from our point of departure to the 
 Mission of Soledad. This distance we rode at a full gallop, 
 Ramon and young Castro driving the extra horses ahead 
 of us. When we arrived there, some of the people about 
 
54 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 the place seemed to be very anxious to know who I was; 
 and to their inquiries Dennison repHed with the story of 
 the priest. They were just taking their coffee as we rode 
 up, and invited us to partake, but we decHned, and rode on 
 without making any stay, thus affording me but a poor op- 
 portunity to observe the place. From the hasty view I 
 had of it, however, it appeared like most of the old Missions 
 in the lower country, — considerably gone to decay, yet bear- 
 ing evidences of former wealth, taste, and industry. Some 
 miles farther on, we came to the Mission of San Antonio. 
 There is nothing remarkable about this Mission. The usual 
 amount of dirt was to be seen, and the usual number of la- 
 zy peones and Indians lying listlessly about. Here we 
 stopped about two hours, in order to feed and water our 
 horses, and give them time to rest. After taking some re- 
 freshment ourselves, and washing it down with one or two 
 bottles of bad claret, we again mounted, and continued our 
 journey. We rode until dark, and then, for the first time, 
 prepared to camp out. We had ridden, in all, that day, 
 ninety miles. 
 
 We pitched our camp near an Indian's hut, and,Jiaving 
 purchased of him a rabbit and a piece of mutton, we cooked 
 and ate our supper, and laid down to sleep. It was a beau- 
 tiful summer night, and I slept as quietly under the stars 
 as ever I did under the canopy of a luxurious bed. Noth- 
 ing disturbed my rest, except a curious dream I had toward 
 morning,^that the Indians had robbed me, and thrown me 
 down a well. At daylight we were astir, and, having eaten 
 our breakfast and saddled the horses, we started at a gal- 
 lop for San Luis Obispo. 
 
 After we had ridden by the most unfrequented roads 
 several miles, just as the trail we were following turned 
 around the foot of a low hill, we suddenly came upon a 
 band of Sonorans, twenty-five or thirty in number. Ap- 
 parently, they were returning from the mines, and having 
 found water, encamped, and were in the act of cooking part 
 of a beef they had just killed when we came upon them. 
 This was in a very wild and lonely place. I had about 
 my person a large sum of money, and my companions ap- 
 peared somewhat alarmed. Nevertheless, the best policy 
 was to show no fear; so we rode boldly up and asked them 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 55 
 
 where we could get some water. They pointed to a clump 
 of flags or rushes a short distance from their camp. They 
 were all well armed, and he who was apparently their lead- 
 er was a very fine-looking and well-dressed man. Their 
 horses, which were also very fine, were grazing about them 
 unsaddled. We went to the water, and, while there, Den- 
 nison cautioned me not to speak, and, above all, not to dis- 
 mount, saying that they were probably banditti, and, at any 
 rate, had a great aversion to Americans, who sometimes 
 drove their people from the mines. 
 
 We found the water very bad. It was as white as milk, 
 being strongly impregnated with sulphur; nevertheless, be- 
 ing very thirsty, we dipped some of it up in a tin cup and 
 drank it. As we rode off, my companions bid the Sono- 
 rans good day, and Ramon, to prevent appearance of 
 alarm on our part, carelessly asked them for a piece of 
 their meat, which they gave him, and as soon as we had 
 got a few yards from their camp, we put spurs to our 
 horses and galloped away, very glad to get out of such 
 dubious company. 
 
 We rode but a few miles before we stopped to feed, 
 water, and change our horses at the Mission of San Miguel. 
 While here, the young horse that Castro was riding was 
 stampeded by some Indians, and three hours were lost in 
 endeavoring to recapture him, but without success. We 
 secured the saddle, which he had thrown off in his flight, 
 and went on without him. Without anything of note oc- 
 curring, we shortly arrived at a large plain or desert, in 
 which was a hot spring. Here we dismounted and took a 
 most refreshing bath. We likewise met here some of Cas- 
 tro' s friends, and he, after conversing with them a little while, 
 determined to go back and again attempt to recover his lost 
 horse, and so parted with us. After two or three hours of brisk 
 riding, we came to the Rancho Santa Margarita, where we 
 again stopped to rest and change. This rancho was once 
 a Mission, but is sadly gone to decay. The old Mission 
 building is inhabited by a California woman, who keeps 
 therein a kind of restaurant and liquor-store. The place, 
 however, in point of stock and extent of land, is said to be 
 one of the most valuable in the state. 
 
 After resting sufficiently, we again started, and soon com- 
 
56 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 plctcd the remaining: twelve miles of our journey, v\'hich 
 brought us to the town of San Luis Obispo, making a day's 
 ride, in all, of eighty miles. I remained outside of the 
 town, while Dennison and Ramon went in to reconnoiter 
 and find a place for the horses, taking mine with them, but 
 leaving the saddle with me to avert suspicion. About 
 dark they returned, and, reporting that all was right, we 
 went together into the town, and ordered supper at a sort 
 of hostelry near the old Mission building. While we were 
 seated at the table, a party of Americans entered the room 
 and eyed me very closely. I joined immediately in the 
 conversation of my companions, and, from certain indica- 
 tions, feared that one of the newcomers knew me. After 
 supper, Ramon and I followed him out to see if he would 
 make a demonstration, or if any attempt was on foot to 
 arrest me. He entered a place where a number of Span- 
 iards were playing at billiards, and sat down. I seated 
 myself at once beside him, determined to ascertain whether 
 he really knew me. I now became convinced, though he 
 looked at me very hard, that, if he had ever known me at 
 all, he did not now recognize me, and felt greatly relieved. 
 We applied to a blacksmith to get our horses shod, but on 
 being informed that it would require half of the next day 
 to get it done, we were compelled to postpone it until we 
 should reach Santa Barbara. I did not see much worthy 
 of note in the town, except the old church. There are no 
 fine buildings there, and, after wandering about an hour or 
 two, 1 became sleepy, when, instead of going to the tavern, 
 I entered the corral where the horses were feeding, and, 
 making a bed of the sweat-blankets and my overcoat, with 
 plenty of hay, I laid down and slept soundly. T^his, the 
 second night of my "camping out," was, like the first, 
 marked by a singular dream. I dreamed that 1 was in 
 Sacramento, and that a party of VUr'dantes, headed by Rich- 
 ard N. Berry, were pursuing me, and succeeded in cap- 
 turing me, but that I subsequently escaped. What put 
 Berry's name into my head I cannot imagine, for he never 
 v\'as, that I know of, a member of the Committee. 
 
 At daylight, we started from San fAiis Obispo, deter- 
 mined, if possible, to reach Santa Barbara that night. 
 Just outside the city, we found a man lying on the road, 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 57 
 
 with a bottle of brandy beside him and his horse quietly 
 standing near. As we approached, he mounted and joined 
 our company. He informed us that he was a blacksmith, 
 and was then building a shop about five miles from town. 
 He said that, the preceding evening, he had been to town 
 on some business, but that while there he had drunk too 
 much, and his bottle proving too heavy for him on his way 
 home, he had fallen asleep on the roadside, while his horse 
 quietly stayed by him all night. After looking intently at 
 me for some time, he told me he thought he knew me. I 
 replied that I thought it likely, determined, if he did know 
 me, to deny my identity, and to face him down that 1 had 
 never heard of an individual of my name. He finally 
 came to the conclusion that he was mistaken, and I thought 
 it probable, inasmuch as he said he never had been in San 
 Francisco. He said he had formerly been sheriff of San 
 Luis County, and spoke to me of many of my acquaint- 
 ances, among them Col. Parker H. French, who had rep- 
 resented the county in the legislature two years before. 
 He soon reached his place of destination, and, taking a 
 parting drink out of the jolly ex-sheriff's bottle, we bid 
 him adieu, and galloped on our journey. 
 
 After riding between thirty-five and forty miles without 
 drawing rein, we lost our way, and went at least two leagues 
 off of the road. It was a very sultry day, and the fatigue 
 and heat of the ride had again brought on my fever. 
 Ramon, the guide, said the sun would have cooked an egg 
 in our hands if we could have held it. We could abso- 
 lutely see the heat in little waves conforming to the sur- 
 face of the sandy plain. For miles around us, it was one 
 scorching, unbroken series of sand-hillocks, reminding me 
 of what I had read of African deserts. Not a spear of 
 grass, nothing but the shining waves of sand as the wind 
 had shaped them. 
 
 For hours I had not tasted water, and the heat and my 
 burning fever made them appear days. My tongue be- 
 came thick, my throat parched, and I felt a sensation like 
 choking. Finally, to my great joy, after two hours' search, 
 we again found the road, and about two o'clock, p. M., we 
 arrived at a place, Los Alamos, distant about fifty miles from 
 the town of San Luis Obispo. Here we changed horses, and 
 
 [51 (•* 
 
58 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 endeavored to get something to eat, but without success. 
 We got some water, however, which greatly refreshed us, 
 and then rode on over a bad road to the Mission of Santa 
 Inez. Before we arrived there, I quite gave out with 
 fatigue, fever, and thirst, I was two or three miles behind 
 my companions, they having ridden on to encourage me to 
 push my animal. I had neither strength to whip or spur 
 him. As I was lagging along the road, more dead than 
 alive, and suffering dreadfully from fever and thirst, I saw 
 some cattle, that were ahead of me, leave the road, and at 
 once knew they must be going for water. I followed them 
 and found it, but, on attempting to dismount, my suffering 
 was so intense that I fairly fainted by the side of the 
 stream. How long I was in that condition I cannot say, 
 but, on reviving, I found my horse standing beside me. He 
 was very gentle at all times, but then much too tired to 
 stray away. After bathing my wrists and face, I took a 
 drink, which greatly refreshed me, and, again mounting my 
 horse, I went back to the road and traveled on. After 
 going some distance, the road led me to a crossing-place, 
 higher up on the same stream from which I had drunk. 
 Here I found Ramon waiting for me, who informed me 
 that Dennison, fearing something had happened, had ridden 
 back on the road in search of me. After some time he 
 returned, and was furiously angry. I told him what had 
 happened, and he swore like a trooper. I was too much 
 exhausted to answer back. He had gone back six miles 
 in search of me, of course passing me when I was off the 
 road at the water. He told me that he had avoided tell- 
 ing me before a fact which he knew, viz. , that the black- 
 smith to whom we had applied to get our horses shod at 
 San Luis Obispo had once worked in San Francisco for a 
 man named Blaisdell, and had recognized me, and he had 
 been fearful all day that he would get up a party and fol- 
 low us. He told me that he was responsible to my friends 
 in San Francisco for my safety, and so long as that was 
 the case, I must look to him for water or anything else that 
 I wanted. All this was very true and reasonable, but I, 
 also, not being in the best of humors, after a while found 
 strength to quarrel back at him, and we had a regular 
 swearing match, in which I was decidedly wrong, for the 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 59 
 
 poor fellow was responsible for my safety, and was doing 
 all that he could to secure it. 
 
 After our spat was over, he pointed to a mountain ahead 
 of us, and told me it was Santa Ynez Mountain, and we must 
 cross it that night if the horses could carry us. The quarrel 
 had waked me up, and I had recovered strength. I told 
 him I could cross it if the horse could, and could do any- 
 thing else that he or any other man could do, — poor, weak 
 boaster that I was, — and thus, refreshed with an hour's rest, 
 and water, and wrath, we started to cross the mountain of 
 Santa Ynez, — and what a mountain ! To me, tired as I was, 
 and not accustomed to anything of the sort, it seemed im- 
 possible, in the jaded condition of our horses, to cross that 
 night. 
 
 Before commencing the ascent, Dennison told me to recall 
 to my mind the worst hill I had ever traveled up, and then 
 add a hundred per cent to it, and I would have some idea 
 of the one before us. I laughed, and told him to jog on. 
 Each of us had to lead a spare horse, but in my exhausted 
 condition I had to relinquish mine before we got half-way 
 over. Dennison then led two. It was quite dark before 
 we reached the summit, up to which point I got on pretty 
 well; but in descending the other side I was less fortunate. 
 I was twice unhorsed, probably from not letting my animal 
 take his own way. Dennison laughed at me, and told me 
 I was worse than an old woman, but presently he got a fall 
 himself, and asked us, while he was picking himself up, if 
 we were going to leave him in that way." I told him he 
 was worse than two old women. Ramon always assisted 
 me, but suffered Dennison to shift for himself. My eye- 
 sight, which is miserable at night, came very near being 
 rendered permanently useless in one eye, by a piece of wood 
 that ran into it. It pained me so much that I thought I 
 must have put it out; fortunately, however, I had not, 
 though the wound was very severe. 
 
 At length, after stumbling and sliding down the tortuous 
 trail in the darkness, risking, every moment, the necks of 
 both riders and beasts, we reached the plain below, and 
 rode toward the Refugio Ranch, where we arrived about 
 nine o'clock in the evening, having traveled, that day, more 
 than one hundred miles. Here, to our great disappoint- 
 
60 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ment, owing to the lateness of the hour, we could get noth- 
 ing to eat or drink. I had not tasted a mouthful since 
 morning, and, weak, sick, and disheartened, I threw myself 
 down in the corral, spurs and all, and slept till daylight. 
 
 In the morning, it being the Fourth of July, Dennison 
 brought me a bottle of bad brandy, and, after drinking some 
 of it, I rubbed myself with the balance. We then got a 
 good breakfast, which, as may be supposed, we relished 
 exceedingly. After breakfast, we hired fresh horses with 
 which to ride into Santa Barbara, distant but a few miles, 
 and left our own at the ranch to rest. After we had 
 started, Dennison told me that his intention was to remain 
 in Santa Barbara three days, so as to thoroughly recruit 
 the horses, and give ourselves an opportunity to rest and 
 bathe in the hot springs. On reflection, I thought if that 
 was the case, I had better remain at the Refugio. My eye 
 was weeping blood and matter, and paining me very much, 
 and I was otherwise very sick and sore. Besides, the 
 rancho was a more retired place than the town, and there 
 was less chance of my being identified by the sheriff of the 
 county, or any sympathizers with the Vigilance Commit- 
 tee. Dennison agreed with me, and it was arranged that 
 he should send back on the following Monday for me and 
 the horses. Accordingly, we returned to the house to make 
 the arrangements for my stay. He told them that I was 
 sick, and desired to rest there for a few days. This was 
 true, for I was almost worn out. They consented to the 
 arrangement, and Dennison and Ramon rode on to the 
 town. 
 
 I could notthenspeakorunderstandawordof Spanish, and, 
 considering my condition in other respects, the day bid fair 
 to be a dull Fourth of July to me. Situated as I was, how- 
 ever, I cared little for pleasure of any kind. I was playing 
 the "game of life," and had to keep myself guarded at all 
 points. Pleasures or comforts were secondary considera- 
 tions with me. Mustering all my philosophy, I essayed to 
 revive my drooping spirits by looking about me. At the 
 Rancho Refugio there are three main buildings, all, of 
 course, built of adobes, together with several small out- 
 houses of the same construction. There are, probably, about 
 the place from forty to fifty persons, all related to a well- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 61 
 
 known and generally respectable family in that county, by 
 the name of Ortega. I became acquainted with many of 
 them afterward, during my long stay in Santa Barbara, 
 which was destined to be much longer than I then antici- 
 pated. Little did I dream, that morning, that I was standing 
 in a county whose boundary I would not again cross until I 
 had roamed for seven months among its mountains, a hunted 
 and despairing man, with scarcely life, and less of hope. 
 Had such a vision crossed my mind, I should not, as I did, 
 have endeavored to shake off my sadness, and enter into 
 some sort of companionship with the people around me. 
 
 The Refugio is celebrated in the history of California 
 as having, many years ago, been plundered by freebooters. 
 And indeed, on looking around on the countenances of some 
 of its residents and frequenters, I could not help thinking 
 that, like our armies in Mexico, the freebooters had left 
 their mark behind them ; for many of them looked the free- 
 booter still. 
 
 At one of the houses, they sold villainous brandy for a 
 dollar a bottle, and an old fellow whom they called Do?i 
 Miguel Cota, and who appeared to be a man of some con- 
 sequence among them, had a decided relish for it. Seeing 
 that I was possessed of the means of gratifying his pen- 
 chanty he assiduously cultivated my acquaintance, and we 
 struck up at once such a friendship as could exist when 
 neither of us spoke a word of the other's language. How- 
 ever, we got on tolerably well, and, for want of better 
 employment, I got the old Don as drunk as any patriot on 
 that glorious day could have desired to see him. Without 
 exactly understanding what there was particularly in the 
 day to license unusual excess, he seemed to take it for 
 granted that there must be something very glorious about 
 it, and entered into the patriotism of the occasion with 
 great spirit. Unhappily, however, in getting old Don 
 Miguel drunk, I intoxicated with rage his better half, 
 Senora Cota. She delivered herself of an oration to me, 
 which, judging from the expression of her countenance — 
 by no means beautiful even in repose — and her violent 
 gesticulation, I took to be anything but complimentary. 
 As it was couched, however, in the Spanish tongue, all, save 
 the gesture which accompanied it, was thrown away. That, 
 
62 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 however, was sufficient, and, like the clown in the circus, I 
 understood her very well, though I did not know what she 
 said. She made me understand this much: that if I had 
 anything to give away, I had much better present it to her, 
 than spend it to purchase brandy with which to fuddle her 
 lord and master. Finally, however, I managed to concili- 
 ate her by giving one of the children a piece of money, 
 and, after a great deal of pretense of not understanding me, 
 I prevailed on her to make me a cup of tea. 
 
 I was stopping with another branch of the family, who 
 were apparently well off, and lived in the center adobe. 
 Notwithstanding I paid well for all I got, when night came 
 I found my bed made for me outside of the house. They 
 appeared to have certain rules, from which they would not 
 vary. All who belonged to the family, and had rights and 
 privileges about the premises, could sleep within doors, 
 but those who were not of the family, and had no rights 
 in common with them, had to sleep out, notwithstanding 
 there was abundance of room within. 
 
 The second day of my stay at the ranch, several per- 
 sonages, apparently not belonging to the household, -made 
 their appearance. Among them were two, who, as they 
 will hereafter figure in this narrative, I may as well intro- 
 duce to the reader now. One of them was perhaps thirty- 
 five years of age, of medium size, well formed, of rather 
 dark complexion, and was named Pedro Ortega, and 
 resided at a place called Arroyo Hondo. The other was 
 younger and smaller in stature than his companion, with 
 rather a lighter skin; he was said to be well connected in 
 Santa Barbara, and resided at a ranch known as Las Ct^u- 
 ces. Both of them spoke English very well. Pedro, as 
 well as old Miguel, was very fond of his ^^poco cognac,'' 
 and we very soon struck up an acquaintance. He, as well 
 as his companion, asked me a great many questions con- 
 cerning myself, all of which I answered as I thought 
 proper. I could not help thinking that, in consideration of 
 our short acquaintance, they treated me more like"dovvn- 
 easters" than the descendants of Cortes. I did not then, 
 however, suspect their object. I told them that I was a 
 drover, and was then on my way to Los Angeles to buy 
 horses. They said they would like to sell me a horse, and 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 63 
 
 I replied that on my return I would probably purchase of 
 them. Not long after this, the companion of Pedro told 
 me that Don Miguel had said that I had told him I had 
 five thousand dollars about me. I then began to suspect 
 the character of my gentleman. I knew that he had told 
 me a lie, and took it for granted that he must have some 
 object in it. I asked him how it was possible that Miguel 
 had said I told him so, when he spoke not a word of 
 English nor I of Spanish. This appeared to confuse him, 
 and he was for some time silent. I told him, however, in 
 a very frank way, in order to throw him off the scent, that 
 my money was to come down by the steamer to Santa 
 Barbara; that it would have been too unwieldy to have 
 brought it along the road, and besides, I did not intend to 
 make any purchases until I had reached Los Angeles, but 
 that, on my return, I would probably purchase of him. 
 They appeared very anxious to know how much money I 
 had with me, and Pedro suggested the idea of my loaning 
 him a small sum, only five dollars, and taking an order for 
 it on a gentleman residing near Santa Barbara, whom I 
 knew very well by reputation. The five dollars was a 
 matter of no consequence, but as I suspected it was only a 
 ruse to get a sight at my purse, I politely declined. I 
 bought them, however, as much brandy as they could drink, 
 which was not a little, for they were decidedly good drink- 
 ers, and nothing more was said about the money that day. 
 At dark I retired again to my bed outside the house. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The Fatal Sisters hover round our birth. 
 And dash with bitter dregfs our cup on earth. 
 
 T'rans. Ancient Poem. 
 
 I FORGOT to mention in the last chapter that I had received 
 a message from Dennison, that he wanted me to meet him 
 in the town of Santa Barbara on Sunday, the sixth of July, 
 instead of Monday, as had been arranged when we parted. 
 I accordingly had my horses corraled the next morning 
 while at breakfast, and, having hired a young Spaniard to 
 drive the extra ones for me, was soon ready to start. I 
 made signs to the senora to know how much I owed her, 
 to which she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders, ^^dQuien 
 sabef'' and was apparently much pleased when I gave her 
 six dollars. I then mounted, and, accompanied by my 
 guide, started for the city of Santa Barbara. I had now 
 ridden nearly five hundred miles from San P>ancisco, and 
 certainly thought I had a right to congratulate myself on 
 my escape from all peril. As I rode along that lovely 
 morning, excepting bodily fatigue I had no feelings but 
 those of pleasure, and my heart was full of thankfulness to 
 a merciful Providence for my deliverance from my enemies. 
 Visions of future happiness and comfort in the bosom of 
 my family, far away from the harpies from whose perse- 
 cution I was fleeing, flitted through my mind, and I could 
 already hear, in fancy, the welcome of my wife and the 
 prattle of my children. Joy, resentment, the hope of ven- 
 
 64 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 65 
 
 geance, gratitude to my friends, — in short, almost every 
 feeling, by turns, tookpossession of me, except apprehension ; 
 of that I was free. But, alas! how true is it that "Man 
 proposes, but God disposes." How little did I imagine, as 
 I reveled in the sweet freshness of that summer morning, 
 that the heart then so lightly bounding with joy and hope 
 would, ere that summer evening, be crushed and almost 
 pulseless with despair ! But to my story. We cantered 
 gayly along the road, with nothing of interest occurring, 
 except an ineffectual attempt to purchase some brandy for 
 my guide, at a ranch which he told me belonged to Senor 
 Ignacio Oj'tega, till we came in sight of the Dos Pueblos^ 
 the residence of Dr. Nicholas A. Den, an Irish gentleman, 
 who has resided in California a great number of years, and 
 is one of the wealthiest, as well as one of the noblest, men 
 in the state. Of him, to whom I have done myself the 
 honor to dedicate this poor narrative, I shall have more to 
 say hereafter. The guide stopped to have a little chat 
 with an am'igo^ the mayordomo of the establishment, while 
 I rode on, not caring to be identified by any Americans 
 who might be about the place. The guide soon overtook 
 me, and informed me that the Doctor was not at home. I 
 had been introduced to him by an acquaintance, the winter 
 previous, in Sacramento, but at this time, not knowing his 
 feelings in relation to the Committee, (God forgive me for 
 such injustice ! ) I preferred not to meet him. It was 
 seventeen miles farther to the city. We met no one on 
 the road, until within a few miles of our destination. A 
 great many persons were riding about on horseback and 
 in wagons, and seemed to be enjoying themselves very 
 much, apparently not having quite got over the hilarity of 
 the glorious Fourth. I noticed a wagon coming toward 
 me, containing six men, whom, from their appearance, I took 
 to be Irishmen. They eyed me very closely as they 
 passed, which I attributed to the fact that it was not cus- 
 tomary to see a stranger loitering along the road -with six 
 horses. I must have looked very suspicious too : my beard 
 was long and white, and I had a patch over my wounded 
 eye, not giving a very agreeable expression to my coun- 
 tenance. I was sunburnt and travel-stained, and my 
 weapons, too, were in sight. They stopped, and I heard 
 
66 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 one of them say, "I think he is an old horse-thief." I, at 
 this, rode up to them, not wishing to have a hue and cry 
 raised against me on a false accusation, which might as 
 well have been true, as far as the consequences were con- 
 cerned, if any of the Vigilance Committee were about. 
 One of the party gave me a sign, which I understood, and 
 returned to him. This man ynust have known me. He 
 then said in a low voice, ' I knew you had been there." 
 He asked me to drink some brandy out of a bottle they had 
 with them in the wagon, which I did. He then said to his 
 companions, "He is all right," which I was very glad to 
 hear. They asked me a great many questions, and in 
 reply to one touching my business in that part of the coun- 
 try, I told them the old story about buying horses in Los 
 Angeles. I knew the faces of two of them, but could not 
 remember where I had seen them. One of them told me 
 he thought he had seen me before. I told them that I was 
 acquainted with their senator, the Hon. Pablo De la Guerra, 
 and also with their representative. Gen. Covarrubias. One 
 of them asked me if I knew the General's son Nicolas, to 
 which I replied, "Yes; he is a clerk in the banking house of 
 Palmer, Cook, (^ Co." They appeared satisfied that I was 
 not a horse-thief, and after we had taken some more brandy 
 all round, they drove off. I remained about the outskirts 
 of the town some time, waiting for Dennison and Ramon to 
 come out and meet me, but they did not come. I tried to 
 make my guide understand that I wanted him to go into 
 the city and find them, and tell them that I was waiting for 
 them outside, but he either did not or would not compre- 
 hend me, and I, at length, very foolishly resolved to go at 
 once into the town and find them myself. 
 
 I rode up to a hotel and restaurant kept by a French- 
 man, and, before I dismounted, saw that I was recognized 
 by one Albert Packard, formerly a shoemaker. He had 
 resided a long time in Santa Barbara, had married a native 
 California lady and turned lawyer. My object in going to 
 this place was to find Dennison, as it appeared to be the 
 only hotel of note in the town, and I thought it most likely 
 I should find him there. Packard was sitting on the porch, 
 and finding I was recognized, I thought it best to put on a 
 bold front; accordingly, I dismounted and took a seat beside 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 67 
 
 him. We entered into conversation, and talked over pretty 
 much all the topics of the day, including the Vigilance 
 Committee, politics, ^*c. He told me that he was in favor 
 of Col, Fremont for the Presidency. I tried very hard to 
 sound him as to his connection or sympathy with the Vigi- 
 lance Committee, but he very adroitly foiled me, and I 
 could not judge from anything he let fall whether he was 
 for them or against them. Fool that I was ! Why did not 
 common sense whisper in my ear that he was engaging me 
 in conversation, merely to give time to the bloodhounds of 
 Santa Barbara to organize and arrest me, and that while I 
 sat there I was perhaps talking my life away.f" I asked 
 him to take a glass of something with me, thinking that a 
 drink might make him communicative, but he replied that 
 he seldom took anything before dinner. I had heard that 
 he was a hunter up of fraudulent land claims, and a stand- 
 ing witness about the Land Commission; I knew that he 
 was a humbug, and a libel on his adopted profession; he 
 had told me that he was a Black Republican, and I might 
 have known that he was a Vigilante. The fellow after- 
 ward wrote a letter to the San Francisco Bulletin, in 
 which he gave an account of this interview, and made it 
 appear that I did not think he recognized me. He knew 
 very well that I knew he recognized me all the time. What 
 his object was in telling so foolish and harmless a lie I do 
 not know. I suppose, however, it was a cheap opportunity 
 to gratify a natural inclination.* 
 
 * The following letter from Packard apppeared in the San Francisco 
 E'vening Bulletin [July 1 1 th] : — 
 
 Santa Barbara, July 6, '56. 
 
 The usual tranquillity of our town has been disturbed to-day by the 
 arrival of McGowan. The gent alighted at the Fonda at about mid- 
 day, from a very tired horse, in company with a Mexican. McGowan 
 straightway entered into a conversation with me, representing himself 
 to be a cattle-drover, and in fact he somewhat resembled one, although 
 I recognized him at once. But as he wished, apparently, to preserve 
 an incognito, of course I did not interfere with his plan, and was very 
 much amused with his views of matters and things in general. I 
 could not help giving him the items of news as to what would proba- 
 bly be the fate of Judge McGowan if he should be taken to San 
 Francisco. This caused him to give certain spasmodic jerks not 
 very peculiar to cattle-drovers in general. He privately assured me 
 
68 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 While we were conversing, a large-sized, well-dressed 
 man approached, and, after regarding me intently for a 
 moment, walked away. I asked Packard who he was, and 
 he informed me that his name was George Parkinson, and 
 that he had been, until recently, employed in the light- 
 house at Point Conception. Packard expressed his sur- 
 prise that I did not know him; I told him I had no recol- 
 lection of ever having seen him before, and it was the 
 truth. It was evident, however, that he doubted my state- 
 ment. In a few moments, three other persons approached 
 and looked at me very closely. One of them I had known 
 for a long time. His name was A. F. Hinchman; he had 
 called himself a lawyer in San Francisco in 1850, and had 
 tried several cases before me when I held court in the 
 old Plaza building. He was there only a short time, how- 
 ever; for so soon as men who were really lawyers began to 
 be numerous in San Francisco, he found his level and 
 migrated to Santa Barbara, which county he represented 
 in the assembly in the year 1852, and there distinguished 
 himself by being the only member of the house who voted 
 in favor of considering a foolish and somewhat insolent 
 negro petition. He had married a native California lady, 
 in order, it is said, to get a comfortable livelihood. He gave 
 me a nod as he approached, but I did not return it, not 
 being sure that he recognized me in the dress I wore. I 
 was afraid of him, for his antecedents were such as to 
 entitle him to full membership with the "purest and best," 
 and I felt quite certain that he at least sympathized with 
 them. Besides, he was opposed to me politically, and I 
 had by this time come to the conclusion that politics had 
 
 that the great Democratic party would right all the trouble in San 
 Francisco, and in the course of a few months all things would be in 
 their old position. He allowed that Howard made a blunder in 
 taking to the stump through the country. He was recognized by 
 several people while he was conversing with me, and he appeared to 
 be very nervous and uneasy. He complained bitterly about the hard- 
 ships he had experienced since he had left San Francisco, — that the 
 whisky was very bad on the road. The beds at ranches he voted as 
 great nuisances, and said that the people would hardly be worth 
 selling in Georgia. In fact, the old scamp appeared to be completely 
 used up in both mind and body. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 69 
 
 much to do with the crusade against me. Of the two 
 others, Packard told me that the larger one was Russell 
 Heath, Esq., the sheriff of the county. I afterward 
 learned that these fellows had instigated this gentleman to 
 arrest me and hand me over to the Committee. The 
 smaller one was a red-headed, sneaking-looking cur 
 named Harvey Benjamin Blake, a mischief-making, nose- 
 poking busybody, who had earned for himself, by his pe- 
 culiar gifts, the sobriquet of Cochi Gueri ' ' or white pig. 
 I at once identified him as the former sweeper out of Ever- 
 ett' s hatter's shop in Clay Street, San Francisco. He, too, 
 had, in some unaccountable manner, made himself accept- 
 able to a wealthy California lady, and is now one of the 
 so-called merchant princes of the state. He was a tool 
 and sympathizer of the Vigilance Committee, and he and 
 Hinchman were partners in the firm of Burton, Blake, and 
 Hinchman. The principal of the firm, Mr. Lewis Burton, 
 is said to be a gentleman. It must be admitted, however, 
 that he has the misfortune to be in horribly suspicious 
 company. 
 
 Strange to say, I did not even yet suspect that anything 
 was wrong, and when they went away without making any 
 attempt to arrest me, I attributed their close scrutiny of me 
 to a mere curiosity to see the "ubiquitous Ned," as the 
 papers called me. I did not then know that they had been 
 apprised of my coming, and were raising a larger party 
 preparatory to making a demonstration. Gallant heroes ! 
 Four stalwart men did not dare to attempt the arrest of 
 one old man, broken down by a ride of five hundred miles, 
 and scarcely able to walk ! 
 
 I afterwards learned that one Doctor S. B. Brinkerhoff, 
 one of the "purifiers," had asked the Hon. Pablo De la 
 Guerra if he could identify me. He told him that he could, 
 if I was in the city, but he did not think I was there, not 
 having seen me. The fact was, that, being under indictment 
 for murder, I did not choose to call on any of my friends 
 and run the risk of compromising them, but was only desi- 
 rous of getting on to Mexico, and would have continued on 
 my journey at once if I had only been able to find Denni- 
 son and Ramon. 
 
 When the above-mentioned parties had left, Packard 
 
70 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 stepped into the house to dinner. I entered also, and was 
 at once recognized by Capt. Bache of the Coast Survey, who 
 was attached to the surveying schooner then lying in the 
 harbor. He looked at me and smiled. I inquired for the 
 room occupied by Dennison and Ramon. It was shown 
 me, and I threw myself on the bed, and, notwithstanding I 
 did not feel altogether easy, could scarcely keep awake. 
 I fell into several "cat-naps," but suddenly something with- 
 in me told me not to sleep. A sudden presentiment of dan- 
 gertookpossession of me, and I became thoroughly alarmed. 
 I rapidly ran over in my mind the conversation with Pack- 
 ard, and recalled the looks of the men who had stared at 
 me so on the porch, and was thunderstruck at my stupidity 
 in not having suspected my danger before. 
 
 Wondering why Dennison did not come to me, — for he 
 must have heard of my arrival, — I took my knife and one 
 of my pistols and laid them on the bed beside me. Pres- 
 ently I saw a man enter and fasten, on the inside, the door 
 that led into the street. I grasped my pistol, determined, 
 if he attempted to molest me, to shoot him. I said to him. 
 What are you doing .f* ' ' Said he, ' ' They are going to^arrest 
 you." "For what.?" said I. He replied, "Jem" — mean- 
 ing Dennison — "has told me all." I asked him where Den- 
 nison was, stating that I had been an hour and a half in 
 town, and he had not come near me. He replied, "He will 
 be here soon." 
 
 I now recognized in my companion the large, well-dressed 
 man I had observed on the porch. He told me his name 
 was George Parkinson; that he was formerly a partner 
 of James Cusick, one of the expatriated, and that he 
 would befriend me. He was an Irishman, and I thought 
 I could trust him. In a moment more Dennison entered. 
 "Come," said he; "there is no time to lose." Parkinson 
 took one of my derringer pistols out of my belt, saying 
 that we would go to his room, where he would give me 
 another six-shooter, and we stepped into the street. The 
 place was by this time alive with people running to and 
 fro. We walked about two hundred yards before we reach- 
 ed the place for which we had started, and I noticed with 
 gloomy forebodings that I was the object on which all eyes 
 were turned. We found the door of our place of refuge 
 
72 Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 closed ! I heard shouts in the distance, and despair began 
 gradually to steal over me. At this moment, when I was 
 about giving up all for lost, a horseman came dashing 
 toward us at full speed, mounted on a magnificent animal 
 beautifully caparisoned. He reined up in front of us, and, 
 springing to the ground, said to those who were with me, 
 "The party is made, and the hunt is up for ^/w," pointing 
 to me. I recognized the speaker at once. It was Jack 
 Power. Bandit and Destroying Angel though he may be, 
 he was my guardian angel then, and may Heaven, which 
 sent him to my succor, be merciful to him in his hour of 
 need. I had seen him in San Francisco in 1849, and he 
 recognized me at once, "judge," said he, "there is no 
 time to be lost. Will you trust yourself to me \ I will 
 protect you as far as I am able." 
 
 Parkinson and Dennison did not want me to leave them, 
 but I knew Power's desperate courage well, and would 
 have chosen him out of the whole state for a partner in a 
 hopeless fight. Something prompted me to at once assent 
 to his proposal, and I did so. In an instant we were gone, 
 leaving my companions standing in the street, and in less 
 than three fuinutes Dennison was arrested, but I had van- 
 ished. Jack ran with me about twenty yards up a street 
 at right angles with the one in which he found us, passed 
 me through the window of a house, rolled me up in about 
 forty yards of carpeting he found lying on the fioor, told 
 the woman of the house, in Spanish, what he had done, cau- 
 tioning her to say nothing, and then rushed out and joined 
 in the pursuit after me, louder than the loudest, while the 
 woman quietly took her seat in the doorway and com- 
 menced to sing. It was all done in less time than it 
 has taken me to tell it. I had, in an instant, as it were, 
 been snatched from certain death ! 
 
 The pack was now in full cry, and, as I lay in the car- 
 pet, how wildly my heart beat as I heard them approach 
 nearer and nearer, and how sweetly hope would whisper to 
 me as the noise of the hunt receded ! As I afterward 
 learned, there were at least one hundred men in the pur- 
 suit, some mounted and some on foot, armed with guns, 
 pistols, and swords. All the idlers, loafers, and scum of Santa 
 Barbara had joined in the "hue and cry." But an instant, 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 73 
 
 and they thought their hands were on me; in another, I had 
 vanished Hke a dream, and none, save two, in all that city, 
 could say where. They could not realize, when they picked 
 up my coat and waistcoat, which, a moment before, I had 
 dropped in my flight, that I was not in them. The din was 
 terrible; the tramping of hoofs and yells of the mob as the 
 chase swept, pell-mell, up one street and down another, the 
 men shouting, and the women (naturally prone to the side 
 of the weak) bespattering them with most unsavory epithets 
 whose bitterness can only be expressed in the Spanish 
 tongue, now roaring past the very house in which I was 
 lying, now dying away in the distance, — all contributed to 
 make up the most fiendish and unearthly howl that ever 
 had rung in my ears. And there I lay with palpitating 
 heart. They ransacked Santa Barbara, but came not to me. 
 Jack Power was leading them ! 
 
 At length, as I afterward learned, the Hon. Pablo De la 
 Guerra, whose inherent chivalry of nature could not per- 
 mit him to sympathize with such fierce persecution of an old 
 man not yet proven to be guilty of crime, fearing that, if 
 this hot pursuit was continued much longer, I must be cap- 
 tured and delivered up to the mercies of a ruthless mob, 
 started the report that a man had been seen running into 
 the tides adjoining the garden of his house, and that I 
 was probably the fugitive. The bloodhounds, biting at once 
 at the bait, surrounded the house and grounds, and set fire 
 to the tules, the Sheriff of the county fiimself applying the 
 torch.* Some one expostulated with the Sheriff, pointing 
 
 ♦McGowAN AT Santa Barbara — Attempt to Burn Him out 
 OF A Swamp — Great Excitement. — By a gentleman who arrived 
 yesterday from Santa Barbara, we have been told all about the at- 
 tempted capture of Edward McGowan. 
 
 It appears that on Sunday morning, the 6th instant, a stranger 
 appeared in the town of Santa Barbara, and was seen talking for a 
 long time with Mr. Packard, a person well known in the city. At 
 length the two were passed by Mr. Blake, who at once recognized in 
 the stranger none other than the notorious McGowan. A short time 
 afterwards, Ned went to the hotel and approached Maj. Bache, of the 
 Coast Survey, who was eating at the table. The Major immediately 
 knew the visitor, and Ned smiled as he neared Mr. Bache's seat, and 
 withdrew. By this time everybody had heard that the runaway was 
 in the place, and application was made to the Sheriff that he might 
 
 [6] D 
 
74 Nar7'ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 out to him, that, if I was really in there, now that the tules 
 were surrounded, I could not escape, and by firing it he ex- 
 posed me to the horrible death of being burned alive. The 
 expostulation was of no avail, however: he did not stay 
 his hand. 
 
 At least two hundred persons rushed into the garden 
 to see my burned and blackened corpse taken from the 
 fire, and more than one of them doubtless anxious to rob it. 
 I had forgotten to mention that the miserable reptile called 
 the "white pig" had circulated, in order to whet the fangs 
 of my pursuers, the ridiculous story that the Vigilance 
 Committee had offered ten thousand dollars for my body, 
 dead or alive, the Governor five thousand, and that I had 
 five thousand about my person. The mob, in their anxiety 
 to capture me, had done immense damage to Don Pablo's 
 garden, breaking down fruit-trees and trampling the 
 flowers underfoot, and, indeed, at one time the premises of 
 my friend were likely to be destroyed by fire. Finally, 
 becoming convinced that they had been on the wrong scent, 
 and reluctandy coming to the conclusion that I had got 
 
 be arrested. But, while this officer was satisfying- himself that there 
 really was an indictment against McGowan for murder in San Fran- 
 cisco, Ned's friends became alarmed, and ran him off to the fastnesses 
 of a swamp. The Sheriff collected a posse and started in pursuit; 
 but, it being near night, it was not possible to enter the swamp to 
 make search with any prospect of success, so he spread his posse 
 around and set fire to the tules. Meanwhile the darkness approached, 
 and the search was given over. 
 
 It was now ascertained that the fugitive had been accompanied to 
 the place by two men, one a Californian, and the other an American 
 named "Jim Dennison," who had acted as guides either from the 
 Mission of San Jose or Dolores. Dennison, who is a butcher, and 
 has a ranch at Halfmoon Bay, stated that he was on his way to San 
 Diego to buy horses for the Governor. ( ? ) The two were arrested, 
 and were being examined amidst great excitement as our informant 
 left; and about twenty Californians were started to scour the country 
 for the so long invisible Ned. 
 
 Is it possible that the scamp has been out here this while or at the 
 Mission of Dolores, and read and heard all that has been said about 
 him ? The three were, according to Dennison's own statement, five 
 days in reaching- Santa Barbara, and McGowan was so much wearied 
 by the journey that they were forced to stop for a time at a ranch 
 twenty-five miles north of Santa Barbara to recruit muscle. — Alta^ 
 July 10th. 
 
Nai'rative of Edward McGowan 75 
 
 clear away from the town, they slunk back to their kennels, 
 followed by a parting malediction from the women.* All 
 this time, I, of course, was ignorant of what was going on, 
 and from the glare and smoke which I could see in the sky 
 through the breathing-aperture of my carpet, I thought the 
 town was on fire. I lay still, though, preferring to be 
 scorched a little, and even burned, rather than fall into the 
 hands of that cruel mob. I had also been represented to 
 them, by the "white pig, " as a desperado, a perfect demon ; 
 they only hunted me in fifties and hundreds; and, I doubt 
 not, had they seen me, death would have been my portion 
 on the instant. It sometimes seems to me unaccountable 
 how such bitter malignity could have been so suddenly 
 engendered in the hearts of men whom I had never wronged 
 or injured; but the whole history of our race shows that a 
 taste for cruelty, and a delight in the misery of others, are 
 moral diseases, easily contracted by minds not naturally 
 ferocious, and, when once acquired, are as strong if not 
 stronger than any of the propensities with which we are 
 born. 
 
 I cannot say that I forgive that "white pig'-' and his 
 
 *The following- letter appeared in the Bulletin of July 10th: — 
 
 Santa Barbara, June 6, 1856. 
 
 Editor Bulletin: — Thinking a few items of intelligence from 
 this remote quarter might not he uninteresting, I avail myself of the 
 departure of the steamer to-morrow to drop you a few lines. 
 
 Well, sir, who do you suppose honored this little town to-day with 
 his presence? No less a personage than the "noble-hearted, gener- 
 ous, and brave" (see a certain senator's speech in the last legislature) 
 Neu McGovvan ! He arrived in this place early this morning. The 
 rascal had the impudence to put up at the best hotel in the place, and 
 ordered dinner. He was recognized by three or four gentlemen who 
 had known him, in times gone by, in San Francisco. Information 
 was given to the Sheriff, who, after an unaccountable hesitation, sum- 
 moned a posse and proceeded to the hotel, at which place his (the 
 Sheriff's) informer had left McGowan but twenty-five minutes before. 
 On his arrival at the hotel, he found the bird had fiown, under the 
 protection of some two or three notorious individuals who are at the 
 head and front of all the disturbances in our otherwise quiet little city. 
 Diligent search was made all the afternoon, and a large patch of 
 "tules," where it was supposed he had secreted himself, set fire to; 
 but all in vain. So we returned, very much disheartened at our 
 failure. 
 
76 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 associates their murderous persecution of me ; that, of course, 
 I will never do. But I will freely say, that I rejoice from 
 the bottom of my heart, on their account, that they have 
 escaped the frightful responsibility to which they would 
 have been held at the judgment-bar of the Almighty if on 
 that day their myrmidons had found me. 
 
 But to return to my story. It was one of the hottest 
 days I ever experienced. The heat of the carpet and the 
 excitement nearly killed me. I was tormented, too, by 
 myriads of fleas, of which the carpet was full. I lay still, 
 however, for I considered that to move was death. After 
 I had lain there about an hour and a half, I heard footsteps 
 in the room, and presently Jack's voice. I implored him 
 in mercy to give me some brandy and water, for I was nearly 
 fainting with suffocation. He replied, "Lie still, or directly 
 you won't have a throat to drink with!" and immediately 
 passed out again. I suffered on for another hour and a 
 half, and by that time it was quite dark. The woman of 
 the house lit a candle, and commenced washing her chil- 
 dren and putting them to bed. Presently I heard voices 
 at the door, and could distinguish that of Power speaking 
 in English. A party wanted to enter the house and search 
 it. My protector told them there was no one there, and it 
 was of no use to disturb the children. They said they had 
 searched every other house without opposition, and they 
 did not intend to make an exception of this. I now thought 
 that my time was come, and, slipping out of the carpet, I 
 silently cocked my pistol, grasped my knife, and, making a 
 short prayer to Heaven, stationed myself just inside the 
 door-post, within two feet of the man who was asking admit- 
 tance, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. Pow- 
 er, however, as Providence would have it, managed to 
 make such resistance to their entrance that they finally 
 walked away. 
 
 I had forgotten that there was an open window behind 
 me, and, as there was a light burning in the room., they had 
 only to turn the corner of the house to see me standing 
 against the door-post. The instant they had turned from 
 Jack, he turned his face to me and whispered, "Under, for 
 your life!" I dropped, and crawled under the bed, and in 
 the same moment they passed the open window. I again 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 11 
 
 begged for water, and he pushed to me with his foot the 
 basin in which the children had been washed, and I plunged 
 my face into it and drank it all, and never in my life before 
 did I taste so refreshing a draft as that filthy water was 
 to me. 
 
 As soon as the footsteps of my pursuers had died away. 
 Jack assisted me to get out of the window, and, getting out 
 after me, ran with me some thirty yards and laid me down 
 on my face in a sort of garden, telling me that when the 
 moon went down he would come and take me to a place of 
 safety. When he left me, it was about half-past eight 
 o'clock, and the moon was then two hours high. The town 
 of Santa Barbara had gone back to its wonted quiet, and 
 the excitement of the day had been forgotten in the gen- 
 eral conviction that I had managed to escape from the trap 
 into vs^hich I had that morning entered. Music and dan- 
 cing were going on, and all the world seemed happy but 
 me. There I lay, with trembling limbs and beating heart, 
 almost unmanned. My escape from death seemed to me 
 a dream which I could not realize, because I dare not 
 believe that I would ultimately be spared from the dread- 
 ful perils that surrounded me. 
 
 And who shall describe the agony I underwent in that 
 long, lonely w^atch .'' He who has not stood, as it were, in 
 the full flush of life and gazed into his tomb; he who has 
 not felt that a breath, a shadow, the cracking of a twig, 
 might open to his burning eye the mystery of his here- 
 after, — can form no idea, from mortal pen, of the weird 
 phantoms that peopled those two dreadful hours ! 
 
 It was a heavenly night. A cool breeze played gently 
 round my throbbing temples, but it brought no balm to me. 
 I could only feel in its freshness the icy hand of death, 
 and mistook its fragrance for the odor of the charnel-house. 
 Flowers were springing round me, but, as they waved in 
 the pale moonlight, I only saw funeral-plumes. A little 
 stream was trickling near me, and its gurgling ripple broke 
 like a death-rattle on my ear. I heard the guitar and 
 tambourine in the distance, and, as the sighing night-wind 
 brought them down to me accompanied with light-hearted 
 beauty's laugh, I only heard a death-wail and a dirge. All 
 around me spoke of death. So fearfully had my mind 
 
78 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 been wrought upon by the horrors of that day, that I really 
 was^ in fancy, on the confines of the spirit-land, and, as is 
 always the case when the spirit either is or fancies itself 
 about to wing its flight from earth, the phantoms of the 
 dim past floated before me as vividly as if but yesterday I 
 had passed them on the stream of Time, instead of years 
 and years ago. I saw my poor old mother (who died 
 during this persecution of me) as I had seen her in my 
 childhood; and so startlingly distinct was the vision, that 
 but a day appeared to fill the gap which years had made. 
 Wife, children, brothers, sisters, and all my kindred, and 
 long-buried friends of other days, passed in bright review 
 before me; and as the clear, cold moon looked down into 
 my very heart, every action, good or evil, of my past life 
 seemed to be searched out from the rubbish-closets of mem- 
 ory, and held up before me as vividly as though each one 
 was but the event of yesterday. And as I watched that 
 weary moon sink gradually to its setting, — that moon whose 
 light had often seemed to me, in youth, so lovely, but for 
 whose waning now my throbbing heart so longed, — I could 
 look it bravely in the face and declare to the Being. who 
 placed it there, by all my youthful joys that moon had wit- 
 nessed, and by the agony of soul which its departure would 
 take from me that night, that I was, in heart and in deed, 
 innocent of the crime for which I was persecuted. 
 
 At length that dreadful watch was over. The moon had 
 sunk below the horizon, and, under the pall of darkness 
 which its setting left, I thanked a merciful God that he 
 had guided no enemy to my place of concealment. It was 
 not long before I heard footsteps, and presently Power 
 appeared, accompanied by two Spaniards. He told me, in 
 a whisper, that, for the present, they would take me to a 
 hiding-place, and then, for a consideration in money, which 
 I there agreed to pay them, they were to return for me at 
 three o'clock in the morning and conduct me to a place of 
 safety. I grasped Power by the hand, and went with the 
 Spaniards. They conducted me to a long, low adobe 
 building with a balcony in front of it, on the outskirts of 
 the town, and there left me, promising to return, as had 
 been agreed upon, at three o'clock. Not long after they 
 had gone, I was joined by two others. They entered the 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 house apparently as though they had a right there, and, 
 indeed, the place looked as though it might be their den. 
 It was a villainous-looking hole, and if ever robber and 
 assassin was written on the human countenance, it was 
 written on the faces of these two men. They had a lamp 
 with them, and by its light I saw that one of them had 
 been drinking. They had apparently been informed of my 
 being there, and, after scrutinizing me very closely, endeav- 
 ored to enter into conversation with me. I could only 
 reply to their questions by signs, and here and there a word 
 of broken Spanish. One of them at length espied a very 
 pretty scarf about my neck (it was about the only piece of 
 decent apparel I had left, and was the gift of a lady), and, 
 taking hold of it, jerked it from me, saying, 'V" V. no quiere 
 presente me estef* It was useless to remonstrate with the 
 scoundrel for such a trifle, and of course I let him keep it. 
 He then made me understand that he wanted to know if I 
 was armed, whereupon I showed him that I was. He then 
 wanted to know where my money was, and I told him that 
 my amigo had it. He next proposed to exchange coats 
 with me. Mine was a policeman's uniform, buttoned up in 
 front. He gave me to understand that his old coat, which 
 was in rags, was a much better disguise for me. I would 
 have given the rascal the coat rather than had a noisy dif- 
 ficulty with him just then, but in the breast pocket of it I 
 had a purse of gold, which I was determined he should not 
 see, and, of course, to exchange coats without taking it out 
 was out of the question. After considerable palaver, he 
 said to me, 'V V. no quiere presente me uno pesof^ I took 
 out a handkerchief in which I had some silver and a few 
 gold pieces tied up for my current expenses, — as I did not 
 care to exhibit my purse on all occasions, — and handed him 
 a dollar. He let it fall on the floor, either by accident or 
 design, and did not stoop to pick it up, saying, Yo no 
 quiere para plata^ pero mucho para oro. "J I gave him a 
 two-dollar-and-a-half piece, and then made him pick up the 
 
 •Don't you wish to present this to me ? 
 t Don't you wish to g^ive me a doll; 
 + I don't want silver; I want g^old. 
 
 lar f 
 
80 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 dollar, bein^ fearful that, if 1 did it myself, he would stab 
 me as I stooped, either in the back or neck, and then rob 
 me. He at first refused to do it, but, bein^ determined to 
 be trifled with no longer by the scoundrel, I covered him 
 with my pistol and made him pick it up. I then gave him 
 to understand that 1 wanted no more to say to him, and, 
 making him take what few old clothes he had hanging on a 
 line in the building, I drove him into another room and 
 fastened the door. 
 
 This fellow doubtless thought I was a robber or high- 
 wayman like himself, and that the object of that day's pur- 
 suit of me had been to deliver me up to justice for offenses 
 in that line; consequently that 1 was a legitimate subject to 
 demand toll from, in the way of "hush-money." Indeed, I 
 am not astonished that the wretch should have taken that 
 idea into his head, for the Santa Barbara mob had been 
 taught to regard me as the fiend incarnate, guilty of every 
 crime in the decalogue, and, instigated by the hope of reward, 
 had pursued me on "general principles," utterly ignorant 
 of the real object of my persecutors. 
 
 It was now getting quite cold, and I sat myself down on 
 the earth floor of the house, anxiously awaiting the coming 
 of the Spaniard whom Power vi^as to send to conduct me 
 out of danger. Their signal was to be three raps at a back 
 window. 
 
 Three o'clock came, as nearly as I could judge, and yet 
 no one rapped. I still anxiously waited, thinking that per- 
 haps something had occurred to change Jack's plan, and 
 that I should shortly hear from him. At length day began 
 to break, and I could see, through a crack in the window- 
 shutter, that it was very foggy. I now made up my mind 
 to remain no longer where I was. From the treatment I 
 had received since entering the house, I knew that I was 
 in bad hands, and feared that if I waited there during the 
 coming day, the villains would betray me for money. 1 also 
 knew that the steamer from San Diego would pass up that 
 day, and was, of course, aware that, if captured, I should at 
 once be sent to San Francisco and delivered over to the 
 Vigilance Committee. I considered, therefore, that I ought, 
 by all means, to get into the mountains at once, and remain 
 there at least until after the steamer had passed up, even 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 81 
 
 if I then had to return to the town. By that means my 
 friends would have time to sue out a habeas corpus^ as it 
 would take at least a week or ten days to send down after 
 me, which I knew would be done, now that they had got 
 on my true track. They had been egregiously humbugged 
 by all the other reports my friend had started as to my 
 whereabouts, and having spent many thousands of dollars 
 in various "wild-goose chases," I supposed that they felt 
 sufficiently sore to be very anxious to lay hands upon me. 
 Accordingly, I went to the window and endeavored to open 
 it, but found that I had not sufficient strength to do so. I 
 then went into the apartment where the two Spaniards were 
 sleeping, and my entrance awakened one of them. The 
 one, however, who had attempted to rob me had not yet slept 
 off the fumes of his drunkenness, and I, of course, took no 
 pains to awaken him. I made the other one understand 
 that I could not open my window, and wanted his assistance. 
 He came and opened it for me, and I waited till he had 
 gone back to his bed, and then I got out. I threw my boots 
 out before me, and it was with the utmost difficulty that I 
 could follow them. 
 
 I was so stiff and sore that I could scarcely vs'alk. It was 
 now daybreak, and I could hear the musical bells of the 
 Catholic church chiming for matins. The fog was so 
 dense that I could not see twenty yards before me. I did 
 not know the direction of the mountains, and was compelled 
 to strike out at "haphazard. " Presently I found myself 
 getting into soft clay, and saw, looming through the fog, the 
 binnacle-lightof the surveying-schooner, which was anchored 
 abreast of the town. I knew from this that I was getting 
 onto the beach, and fearing that if I continued along it my 
 footprints would lead to my capture, I at once turned and 
 groped in the opposite direction. After walking some time, 
 1 reached the foot of the Coast Range, to the eastward of 
 the city, and commenced ascending it.* After I had gone 
 
 * Ned McGowan at Santa Barbara — The People in Pur- 
 suit — Expected Apprehension. — We are indebted to the purser 
 of the steamer Sea Bird, which arrived here this forenoon from the 
 southern coast, for tlie following^ important and interesting- informa- 
 tion in regard to the notorious Ned McGowan. Ned had been track- 
 ed at hist. We trust that by the next arrival from Santa Barbara the 
 
82 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 up some distance, I ensconced myself in some thick furze, 
 determined, before proceeding farther, to take some rest. 
 The sun was now fully up, and as the mists melted before 
 his rays, it bid fair to be a beautiful day. 
 
 As I sat looking down from my eminence, my eye fell on 
 the cross on the little Catholic church at the lower end of 
 the town, and I was reminded of a religious duty too often 
 neglected by me in bygone days of comfort and luxury. I 
 had been instructed by my poor mother in the religion of 
 the Church, and, falling on my knees, I made the sign of the 
 cross and thanked God for his merciful kindness. 
 
 scoundrel will be broug-ht hither to meet the fate he so richly deserves, 
 and which his companion in guilt, Casey, has already suffered. The 
 purser's memorandum says: — 
 
 "Great excitement was created at Santa Barbara by the arrival 
 there of Ned McGoivan, who made his appearance last Sunday, the 
 6th of July. Upon being recognized, which he immediately was, 
 Ned took to the mountains in the vicinity, closely pursued by the 
 citizens, but, up to the time of the steamer sailing (the 7th), no clew 
 has been found of him. The people, however, were in hopes of tak- 
 ing him before evening. Mr. Russell Heath, Sheriff of Santa Bar- 
 bara, had arrested a California boy and an American who accqmpa- 
 nied McGowan from Santa Cruz to Santa Barbara. They stated 
 that McGowan left San Francisco about the 23d or 25th of June, 
 and they joined him at Santa Cruz, he representing to them that he 
 was a cattle dealer, and on his way to San Diego to buy cat- 
 tle. They arrived at the Rancho de Refugio, about twenty-seven 
 miles from Santa Barbara, on the morning of the 4th of July. Mc- 
 Gowan was then so exhausted that he could proceed no farther, and 
 had to go into Santa Barbara, where he arrived on the morning of 
 the 6th. He was immediately recognized by those who knew him. 
 Upon hearing of this, McGowan left his horse and took for the moun- 
 tains, followed by the citizens. The majority of the people think he 
 is secreted within the town of Santa Barbara, as there are many seek- 
 ing to aid him in his escape. ["] — Bulletin^ July 9th. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Creation slumbered in the cloudless light. 
 And noon was silent as the depth of night. 
 O what a throng of rushing thoughts oppressed. 
 In that vast solitude, his anxious breast! 
 
 Moore. 
 
 I HAD remained for two or three hours where I had 
 halted on the mountain-side, looking out on the vast ocean 
 glittering like a burnished mirror beneath the rays of the 
 morning sun, and down on the city of Santa Barbara, 
 which lay like a little social pebble on its sounding shore, 
 thanking Heaven for my recent escape, and revolving in 
 my mind plans for my future action. By that time I be- 
 came materially rested, and mustered strength to penetrate 
 the mountain wild still farther, deeming it to be but pru- 
 dent to place a little more distance between myself and my 
 pursuers, and accordingly commenced a farther ascent. 
 After proceeding some distance, I came to a very precipi- 
 tous "bench" overgrown with a thick and impenetrable 
 
 chaparral.'' Into this I cut my way with my knife until 
 I came to some rocks that afforded shade, and near by I 
 found some water. Here I halted, and remained behind 
 the rocks the entire day without seeing a living creature of 
 any sort. Strange to say, either from extreme excitement 
 or some other cause, I felt no hunger, although the last 
 meal I had eaten was my breakfast on the preceding morn- 
 ing at the Ranch de Refugio. I drank a great deal of the 
 water, however, for I still suffered from fever. Before 
 reaching this spot, I had thrown away my flannel under- 
 
 83 
 
Nm-rative of Edward McGowan 85 
 
 clothes, owing to the excessive heat, but toward evening it 
 became quite cool, and I discovered I had done a very 
 foolish thing. I had lost my overcoat and waistcoat the 
 previous day, as before mentioned, and suffered greatly for 
 the want of them. I may as w^ell here state that in the 
 pocket of the overcoat were all my papers of a private 
 nature, but, fortunately, they fell into the hands of Don An- 
 tonio Maria De la Guerra, mayor of Santa Barbara, and 
 brother of the present senator, through whose kindness 
 they have been restored to me. Among these papers were 
 letters to the different Missions in lower California and 
 Mexico, stating that I was a good Catholic, and not travel- 
 ing through those countries on any political errand. This, 
 as I afterward learned, was told to the good Bishop Amat, 
 and he sent messages to the various Missions, instructing 
 them to give me shelter if I visited them. He also had 
 mass said for me. Had I known all this at the time, I 
 would have been spared the painful pilgrimage I was then 
 about entering upon. I should have at once sought an 
 asylum at one of the Missions, and been safe. 
 
 When it was quite dark, I prepared to come down from 
 the mountain and sleep in the plain, being afraid of the 
 bears, in which the country abounds. I got into a canon 
 in which was an aqueduct built of stone. It is many miles 
 in length, and supplies the Mission of Santa Barbara, 
 which is distant a few miles from the city, with water for 
 irrigation and other purposes. I followed the course of 
 this aqueduft till it brought me near to the old Mission 
 church and buildings, finding no safe place to sleep im- 
 mediately about them, I at length got into an oat-field in 
 which the straw had been cut and stacked up. Here I 
 made a very comfortable bed, and slept soundly till just 
 before day, when I heard a man driving some cattle into 
 the field. I remained quiet till he went away, and then 
 got up and again ascended the mountain back of the church. 
 As may be supposed, by this time I had become quite hun- 
 gry. I saw some fish swimming in a kind of basin in the 
 watercourse, and thought I would try to catch some of 
 them and eat them raw. I cut some holes in the crown of 
 my hat, so as to make a kind of net of it, and then, fasten- 
 ing it to a pole, endeavored to get some of them; but, either 
 
86 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 I was too unskillful a fisherman or fate had determined I 
 should not succeed. After trying a long time in vain, I 
 was compelled to give it up and remain hungry. I contin- 
 ued up the canon a mile or two, keeping all the time in the 
 watercourse and walkuig barefooted. Still having fever, 
 I drank every half-hour. I endeavored to cross the moun- 
 tain, thinking that I might find some friendly ranch in the 
 plain on the other side, but, after I had traveled till I 
 could advance no farther even in the watercourse, I was 
 obliged to give it up, and sat down to rest. I have since 
 been informed that, in endeavoring to cross that mountain, 
 I was undertaking an impossibility, it never having been 
 crossed at that point. I remained there in solitude the 
 entire day, and at night again descended to the Mission, and 
 slept in the same oat-field, without interruption, till day. 
 When I awoke, I found myself suffering intensely from 
 hunger. I had now been three days without eating, and 
 was perfectly ravenous. I determined to go to the first 
 rancho I could find and ask for food, concluding that I 
 might as well be captured and killed as starved to death. 
 Accordingly, 1 got out into the road, and walked on without 
 knowing which direction I was going. Presently I came 
 to a house. I should judge it was then about seven o'clock 
 in the morning. A young man was standing in the door, 
 whom, from his appearance, I took to be an American, but, 
 on accosting him, I discovered that he could not speak 
 English. I then addressed an old woman, who appeared 
 to be his mother, but with no better success. I managed, 
 however, to make her understand that I was hungry, and 
 showed her a five-franc piece. Her breakfast was nearly 
 ready, and she soon invited me to sit down and fall to, 
 which I did with a will. After breakfast, I got the old lady 
 to give me some beef, hard bread, and a bottle of 
 milk, for which I paid her three dollars. As no one spoke 
 English about the premises, I thought there was no fear 
 of my being betrayed by them to my enemies, and contin- 
 ued my walk along the road. 1 had got my head so 
 "turned round" on the mountain, that I did not know the 
 direction of the city of Santa Barbara, till suddenly, to my 
 horror, I came right upon it. As soon as I espied it, I 
 turned and ran off the road about a mile, when I came to 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 87 
 
 a small canon filled with very thick bushes. Into these I 
 crept, and lay there all day without molestation. And bet- 
 ter need I had to be well concealed than I was then aware 
 of; for it turned out that the woman at whose house I 
 breakfasted was a Mrs. Robbins,*and, though a native her- 
 self, the widow of one Captain Robbins, an American, and, 
 moreover, she was the mother-in-law of none other than 
 Harvey Benjamin Blake, alias the "white pig," who had 
 instigated the Santa Barbara mob to hunt me so savagely 
 two days before. He was in the habit of almost daily vis- 
 iting his mother-in-law, and, as I afterward ascertained, 
 did actually, on that day, pay her a visit, and was telling her 
 about the hunt of the preceding Sunday, when she informed 
 him that I had breakfasted with her that morning. At this 
 "the pig" became almost frantic. He mounted his horse 
 and rode back to town, where he communicated his news, 
 and, getting up another party, they gave me another hunt. 
 All the while, however, I, unconscious of what was going 
 on, lay safely ensconced in the bushes, and their search was 
 fruitless. 
 
 As soon as night came on, I watched the moon and stars 
 to ascertain v^hich way I should go to get north of the city 
 of Santa Barbara. I had determined to abandon my pro- 
 ject of going to Mexico, and to return toward San Francisco, 
 knowing that I should be more rigorously pursued in lower 
 California than elsewhere, t I thought that I was south of 
 
 *The Chase after McGowan. — By the extract from the Santa 
 Barbara Gazette on the outside page, it will be seen that McGowan 
 had disappeared from Santa Barbara, and that a sheriff's posse was 
 after him. Another posse is also on his track, and it is not proba- 
 ble he will escape. 
 
 McGowan left Santa Barbara on the 6th instant, and on the 17th he 
 was seen a short distance from town, where he paid a dollar for a 
 glass of water, and the next day, at the ranch of Mrs. Robbins, about 
 two miles from town, he paid three dollars for his dinner. At this 
 time he had no hat on, and was badly scorched and blistered with the 
 sun. It is said that he had $900 on his person, and in roaming about 
 that section of country it is not improbable that he may be murdered 
 for his money. Indeed, there was a report in Santa Barbara that he 
 had been murdered, although passengers from there by the Sea Bird 
 say there was nothing to confirm the report. — Alta California, July 20. 
 
 Los Angeles, July 16th, 1856. 
 t Editor Bulletin: — The Vigilance Committee boys are now 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 the town, toward Los Angeles; but in this I was mistaken. 
 When I fled to my present hiding-place, I had come at least 
 a mile and a half in the direction I wished to travel. I 
 came out of my retreat and traveled on, getting, as I sup- 
 posed, to the northward of the city. I kept two or three 
 miles off the road, and walked for nearly three hours, when 
 I came to a ranch. By this time I had become sleepy, 
 and, as I preferred to rest near a habitation on account of 
 the bears, I determined to halt here. I laid down by the 
 side of a fence, but, notwithstanding my fatigue, it was so 
 cold I could not sleep. One of the greatest annoyances I 
 found during my pilgrimage in Santa Barbara was the Cali- 
 fornia watch-dog. There are always eight or ten of them 
 about a ranch, and they invariably gave the inhabitants 
 notice of my presence by barking. They soon found me 
 out in this instance, and at once became very noisy. Pres- 
 ently I heard a man speaking to the dogs, in English ! I 
 started up in alarm, knowing that if he was an enemy, and 
 recognized me, escape was impossible" while he had his 
 dogs to assist him. Presently he came out to see what they 
 had discovered. I boldly accosted him first, saying, ''Your 
 dogs are barking at me^ sir," following up the information by 
 asking him how far it was to the city of Santa Barbara, pre- 
 tending that I was going in that direction. Without answering 
 my question, he replied, "Are you from above.'*" I replied in 
 the affirmative, and he asked me, "From how far.^" I told 
 him, ' ' PVom San Jose. ' ' He asked me how long I had been 
 
 close on Ned McGowan' s trail, and you may expect them up with 
 him by the next trip of the Sea Bird. When last heard from, he was 
 on foot, and hardly able to walk. He stopped at the Mission of San 
 Buenaventura, on Wednesday mornings, 16th inst., to get his break- 
 fast. They immediately sent news into Santa Barbara to that effect. 
 Eight good men, on picked horses, are now on his track, and he 
 cannot long escape. 
 
 By the inclosed bill you will perceive that the authorities have 
 offered a reward of $300 for his body, dead or alive. The vaqueros 
 and Indians are scouring the country between Santa Barbara and Los 
 Angeles. At Los Angeles, Judge Hayes has issued three bench- 
 warrants for his arrest, and sent one to San Diego, one to San Ber- 
 nardino, and one to the Ferry on the Colorado River, thereby closing 
 every avenue of escape. Ned's race is run; the fox is earthed at last. 
 Nada mas. — Bulletin, July 19. M. 
 
Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 89 
 
 on the road, and I told him about a month. He then said, 
 "It is only about four miles to the city, and a good road. 
 You can soon make it." I judged from his accent that he 
 was, as we familiarly say, "from Pike." I imagined, too, 
 that he did not wish to give me shelter for the night. How- 
 ever, he was not aware that, had he offered me his hospital- 
 ity, circumstances would have prompted me respectfully to 
 decline it. I left my friend "from Pike," and, after walk- 
 ing a short distance farther, came to a sheep-ranch, where 
 1 saw some large stacks of oats. I was now glad that the 
 dogs had roused me from my last uncomfortable resting- 
 place, and, crawling in between two of the stacks, I enjoyed 
 a sweet and refreshing sleep until morning. 
 
 I arose before it was fully daylight and continued my 
 journey. I had no fixed plan of operations; nothing more 
 than a general idea of getting northward as quietly and as 
 rapidly as possible. I had not gone far before I saw a 
 Spaniard on the road. He did not approach me, however. 
 He was a vaquero, and was watching some cattle. After 
 proceeding some five or six miles, I saw some horsemen on 
 the road, coming toward me, on their way to the city. At 
 the same time I observed two men at work in a field. Im- 
 mediately it struck me that the best way to avoid meeting 
 the men on the road was to join those in the field. I ac- 
 cordingly approached them, while the horsemen passed on. 
 I remained with the two men some time. They were 
 engaged in making a fence, and preparing the ground to 
 put in a crop. I ascertained that I was upon the land of 
 Daniel Hill, Esq. He is an old Californian, having resid- 
 ed in the county of Santa Barbara thirty years. He had 
 married into the Ortega family, and is the father of Mrs. 
 Nicholas A. Den, the wife of the gentleman to whom I 
 have before referred. I learned these facts from one of 
 the men, who was a Chileno and spoke English. He in- 
 formed me that he had been a long time in the employ of 
 Grogan ^ Lent, of San Francisco. He said my face was 
 familiar to him, and asked me what countryman I was. I 
 told him that I was French, but had been a long time in 
 America, and was then on my way to the Mission of Santa 
 Ines, to act in the capacity of teacher of English. He 
 asked me if I had seen anything of "the man the people 
 
 [7] 
 
90 Nar?'athe of Edward McGowan 
 
 were hunting." I told him that I had not, but that it was 
 supposed that he had gone to the lower country. I told 
 him that I was one of the party who had pursued him, and 
 re(2;retted that he had escaped us, and further informed 
 him that, during: rny stay in Santa Barbara, I had been the 
 guest of Don Pablo De la Guerra. This appeared to sat- 
 isfy my Cliilcrw -Yankee friend, and he annoyed me with no 
 more questions. They asked me into their tent, which they 
 had pitched in the field, and treated me to a cup of good 
 warm cofTee, and exchanged some of their soft bread for 
 my hard biscuit. They also gave me a drink of as^uaf- 
 diente, for which I paid a dollar to the one who did not 
 speak English. I told them, as I left, that I was going no 
 farther than Dr. Den's house that day, and the next day I 
 hoped to reach the Mission of Santa Ines. 
 
 As soon as I left them, I got into the mountains, it being 
 then about eight o'clock, and entirely too late for me to 
 travel any longer on the road. I lay concealed in the 
 mountains all day, and at night came down again. Finding 
 no straw at hand, of which to make a bed, I continued my 
 journey until the moon went down, which was at^about 
 midnight, and then fell asleep under a tree. 1 awoke in 
 the morning very cold and stiff, and suffered greatly until 
 the sun came out. The warmth then restored me to a 
 comparative degree of comfort, and I pursued my journey. 
 I passed the residence of Dr. Den before any of the house- 
 hold were stirring, and, after walking some five or six miles 
 farther, came to the ranch of one Dmi Ivnac'io Ortega^ 
 where I had made the unsuccessful attempt to get some 
 brandy for my guide after leaving the Refugio. After I 
 had passed this place, I again went into the mountains. 
 Here I remained all day, and, after having eaten all that 
 remained of the provisions I had bought of old Mrs. Rob- 
 bins, I enjoyed a good sound sleep until about five o'clock 
 in the evening, when I awaked. 1 was on a very high 
 mountain which commanded a view of the road for some 
 distance both ways. Not seeing any one, I descended to 
 the road which led to the Refugio Ranch. It ran through 
 a deep caiion which I remembered having passed on my 
 way to Santa Barbara, and I knew that now I must be at 
 least thirty miles north of that town. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 91 
 
 As I was making the best of my way along the road, I 
 suddenly heard the sound of hoofs, and, looking up, I saw a 
 horseman approaching me at a full gallop. He was so 
 close upon me that it was impossible to hide from him, and 
 besides, he had seen me, and it would have been foolish to 
 attempt it. I loosened my pistol and my knife in my belt, 
 to be ready for service in case he attacked me, and awaited 
 his coming.* When he reined up in front of me, I at once 
 identified him as one of the two men who, it will be re- 
 membered, were so curious about my money at the Refugio^ 
 on the Fourth. This was not Pedro, but his companion, 
 who lived at Las Cruces. He was also a brother of the 
 guide who had gone with me into Santa Barbara. After 
 the first recognition, I tried to deceive him as to my situa- 
 tion, and told him that the Indians had stampeded my 
 horses; but I soon found that he knew all about me, and 
 everything that had befallen me in Santa Barbara. He 
 told me, furthermore, that Dennison had gone on back to 
 Halfmoon Bay, taking with him all the horses. I sus- 
 pected this man to be a robber, and of course was anxious 
 to get rid of him. How to do it, however, without any 
 difficulty puzzled me. In the event of his attempting to 
 rob me, which I thought it not unlikely he would do, I did 
 not want to kill him, for it would have caused me a great 
 deal of trouble to bestow his body, and horse and saddle, in 
 such a manner as to prevent discovery. I had a fierce 
 
 * Ned McGowan not yet Captured — Expectation of soon 
 Catching Him. — By the steamer Sea Bird, which arrived this morn- 
 ing' from ports on the southern coast, we have Los Angeles papers 
 to July the 12th, and the Santa Barbara Gazette to July 17th. 
 
 The news all relates to the movements of the Hon. Judge Ned Mc- 
 Gowan and the chances of his capture. In another column, we give 
 a letter from a Santa Barbara correspondent, which contains the 
 latest intelligence on this subject, from which it would appear that 
 McGowan cannot escape the hot search after him. In all probability, 
 this noted veteran scoundrel will be in this city, in the hands of the 
 Vigilance Committee, within the next ten days. We may add here, 
 that McGowan is ill of the piles, and is physically unable to move 
 onward. The Indians and vaqueros who have seen him report that 
 his bowels are protruding. The letters of our Santa Barbara and 
 Los Angeles correspondents show that the whole southern country 
 is up and in eager chase after the fugitive. — Bulletin, July 19. 
 
92 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 enough pack at my heels already, without wishing to do 
 anything which would render them more savage than they 
 were; and yet, to suffer myself to be robbed by him was 
 out of the question. 
 
 He told me he was going into town to get some medicine 
 for a sick brother, and when he returned he would sell me 
 a horse he had at his place. It occurred to me to ask him 
 if he would take a message for me to General Covarrubias, 
 telling him where I was. He at once agreed to do it, and 
 I gave him a four-dollar piece. At first he refused to ac- 
 cept it, but after a while he did so. After conversing a few 
 moments longer, he started off, as I supposed, to go to the 
 city. Presently, however, he returned with a bottle half 
 filled with brandy which he had procured at the Refugio^ 
 and offered it to me to drink. I suspected it was poisoned, 
 and very politely told him, "After you, seiior. " He drank, 
 as I thought, very sparingly, and handed the bottle to me. 
 I took a mouthful of it, but did not swallow any. Indeed, 
 the liquor v^^as poison enough, of itself, without any "doc- 
 toring." 
 
 He now asked me to give him ten dollars more, which I 
 would have done had I have had it out of my purse. I had 
 no idea, however, of letting him see my money, and there- 
 fore told him that all my money was in twenty-dollar 
 pieces, and on his return from General Covarrubias I would 
 give him one of them instead of a ten. My object was to 
 get rid of the fellow, and of course I never intended, after 
 he had left, to wait for him, or ever let him see me again if 
 I could help it. I contemplated crossing the mountain of 
 Santa Ynez, and then leaving the Coast Range. He ap- 
 peared satisfied with my answer to his demand, and was 
 about riding away when something put it into my head to 
 ask him if he knew Jack Power. His eye brightened in a 
 moment, and he replied in Spanish, quickly, "(^V<7t/fv Poiuer 
 V. amigo?'' I told him "Yes." His whole manner at once 
 changed; he appeared very much pleased to know it, and, 
 taking a long pull at the suspefted bottle, he said to me, 
 "If Jacky Power is your friend, I will have him at this 
 place to-morrow at twelve o'clock." It was then sundown, 
 and he immediately started for Santa Barbara, distant 
 thirty miles. I had not the remotest idea, when he rode 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 93 
 
 away, of being there the next day, for I had no faith in 
 him; I did not beHeve he could bring Power to me, as he 
 had promised, and I was very anxious to be clear of him. 
 As soon as he had gone, I bent my steps towards the Refu- 
 gio, in search of a place to sleep. I waited until it became 
 quite dark, and then attempted to get into one of the small 
 houses adjacent to the main building, which, when I was 
 last there, I had observed to be unoccupied. In this at- 
 tempt I failed, the door being fastened. I managed, how- 
 ever, at length, to stumble upon a sort of little outhouse, 
 built of adobe, with a tile roof, and laid down inside of it to 
 sleep. I had lain there but a few moments when I heard 
 voices, and presently two men approached, conversing in 
 Spanish. One of them entered the house. I lay perfectly 
 quiet, and directly he lit a match, which for a moment 
 lighted up the place, but he did not see m^, and immediate- 
 ly his companion went away, whereupon he fastened the 
 door on the inside and laid down. Soon afterward, another 
 came to the house and tried to gain admittance, but my 
 companion refused to let him in, and he went away. I 
 waited till I thought my fellow-lodger was asleep, and then 
 stole softly to the door, unfastened it, and went to the gar- 
 den of the establishment, and laid down under a row of 
 willows which were planted inside of the fence. 
 
 I subsequently learned, before I left Santa Barbara, that 
 the man who entered the building in which I was secreted 
 was a prisoner who had broken jail in Santa Barbara while 
 the Sheriff and the mob were hunting me, and made his 
 escape. He either had a wife or friend at the Refugio, 
 which accounted for his coming there. I managed, notwith- 
 standing the cold night air, to get some sleep, but I awoke 
 at daylight shivering, and nearly chilled through. I got up, 
 however, and continued my journey toward the mountain of 
 Santa Ynez, and before long the warmth of the sun relieved 
 me. I tried very hard to discover the pass by which Ra- 
 mon, Dennison, and I had crossed it, but, after two hours of 
 fruitless search, I had to give it up. Having thus aban- 
 doned all idea of crossing the mountains alone, I determined 
 to await the result of my message to Power. I did not go 
 to the spot where I told my messenger I would await him, 
 fearing that he might play me false, and, tempted by a re- 
 
94 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ward, bring my enemies upon me. So I moved about a 
 mile and a half down the road, nearer the city, and, taking 
 a position which commanded a view both ways, secreted 
 myself in the bushes and awaited his arrival. When it 
 had got pretty well on toward noon, I spied two men in the 
 distance, coming from the direction of Santa Barbara, and 
 on their nearer approach I was delighted, and at the same 
 time surprised, to find that it really was Jack and my mes- 
 senger. They had to ride around the foot of a steep hill 
 before they could pass me, and, seeing no one else on the 
 road, 1 descended from the mountain to meet them. Jack 
 was very glad to see me safe, and told me all my friends 
 in town had come to the conclusion that I was killed. He 
 asked me why the devil I did not remain with the men he 
 had sent to me in the adobe house, and explained that all 
 my friends thought it would be better for me to remain in 
 town a day or two, as there was very little fear of my be- 
 ing discovered where I was, and hence I had not heard 
 from him at three o'clock that morning, as had been agreed 
 upon. I reported to him how one of them had attempted 
 to rob me, and told him that I, of course, thought rpyself 
 much safer in my own keeping than in such hands, and 
 therefore had left. I then narrated to him my adventures 
 since I had started out on my own account. He swore 
 furiously at the scoundrel who had treated me so ill, and 
 declared that he would cut the rascal's ears off when he 
 saw him. He, however, asked me if the fellow was not 
 drunk, and I told him that he was, which appeared to 
 account to him for his conduct. 
 
 He told me that he had had several persons busy the last 
 four days hunting the mountains for me, and when the mes- 
 senger told him where I was he did not believe that he 
 had seen me till he had shown him my name which I 
 had roughly scratched on a piece of paper when I sent him. 
 Power and I stepped a little aside from the Spaniard and 
 had a long conversation. He told me that it was suspected 
 in the city that he knew of my whereabouts, and a large 
 sum of money had been offered to him to reveal it, but of 
 course in vain. He told me, that, though he was poor, he 
 would not have the blood of a helpless man upon his hands, 
 and I might feel quite certain he would never betray me. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 95 
 
 Of this I was very sure, and, although he did not ask me 
 for any money, I gave him one hundred dollars for his kind 
 services to me thus far. When I took out my purse to give 
 him the money, he asked me if the Spaniard had seen it. 
 I assured him that 1 had been too cautious for that, and he 
 replied that it was well I had been, for the fellow was a 
 robber, and would at any time have murdered me for much 
 less than what I had with me, as would many others of his 
 stamp, who were very plenty in that section of the state. 
 He added, however, that there was no danger now of any 
 of them betraying me, because they had learned that I was 
 a good Catholic, and they would not have the reputation 
 of having sold my life to my enemies. Besides that, he 
 told me, with a significant expression of the eye, that he 
 was a ^^medicine-man'' among them, and they would not 
 provoke him. He then called to the Spaniard, and, giving 
 him twenty dollars out of the money I had given him, to 
 which I added five or six dollars more, he bade him go to 
 the Refugio and procure for me a horse, saddle, and bridle. 
 While the Spaniard was absent, Jack told me that his 
 original intention, on learning where I was, was to take me 
 to ' ' Los Alamos, ' ' — one of the places at which I had stop- 
 ped, as the reader will remember, before crossing the moun- 
 tain of Santa Ynez, — but that, on reflection, he thought it 
 best that I should go to a place called xhe'^'' Jrroyo Hondo,'' 
 being the same place where resided my friend Pedro, who 
 had been so inquisitive about me on the Fourth, when in 
 company with the Spaniard who was then with us. He 
 told me that it was but five miles distant from where we 
 were, and that, though the Spaniard could take me there, 
 as he knew the place and the friend to whom he intended 
 to send me, he did not intend to trust him, but to go himself. 
 It was not long before the man returned from the Refugio, 
 bringing only a naked mule, with the information that that 
 was the best he had been able to do. Jack looked suspi- 
 ciously at him for a moment, and then, telling him to dis- 
 mount from his horse, he coolly took the saddle from the 
 animal and placed it on the mule. The man then spoke 
 in Spanish to Jack, who afterward told me that he wanted 
 him to let him take me to his place at Las Cruces. Power 
 told him that he intended to take me to Los Alamos, and 
 
96 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 that he might either stay where he was, or go to the Refu- 
 gio and wait till his return. I then mounted the mule, and 
 Jack his steed, and we proceeded along the road, leaving the 
 Spaniard and his unsaddled horse to keep each other com- 
 pany. As soon as we were out of his sight. Jack ex- 
 changed animals with me. Being a fine rider, he could 
 get along with the mule much better than I, and besides, in 
 case of an unexpected pursuit, his magnificent horse would 
 take much better care of me than the miserable little ani- 
 mal I was on. The horse was very fleet and powerful, and, 
 withal, perfectly gentle, with a gait as easy as the rocking 
 of a cradle. After making the exchange, we got in the 
 road, and took the direction of the Arroyo Hondo, at which 
 place we shortly arrived. 
 
 Here I at once discovered that the master of the place 
 was, as I had suspected, none other than my inquisitive 
 friend of the Fourth, Don Pedro. Power appeared to 
 have a mysterious influence over all these people. They 
 all respected him, and, while many of them would have 
 cut my throat at any time for my money had I been alone 
 and unfriended, his name seemed a talisman which. con- 
 verted them from enemies into hospitable friends. He 
 frankly told Pedro w^ho I was, and what were my trou- 
 bles, as also who were my friends at Santa Barbara. He 
 informed him that he had brought me to his house for ref- 
 uge, and as he delivered me to him safe and sound, he 
 expected me to be returned to him in the same condition 
 when called for. He told him to take charge of me for 
 a few days, until the hunt after me had begun to flag, 
 or some other and safer place could be found for me. 
 He further charged him to tell no one that I was there, 
 to let no one see me, and particularly to keep my hiding- 
 place secret from the Spaniard whom we had just left 
 on the road, calling him by name. All of this Pedro 
 wilHngly agreed to, and Power then stated the case to 
 his wife, and exacted and obtained from her the same 
 pledges. It will be seen that she faithfully and honor- 
 ably kept her trust to the last, and took care that her 
 children did the same; but the sequel will also show 
 how far her husband kept his. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Thou art a wanderer, it is said; 
 For Mortham's death, thy steps waylaid. 
 Thy head at price — so say our spies. 
 Who range the valley in disguise." 
 
 Rokehy. 
 
 In order that the events which occurred durinjy my stay 
 at the Arroyo Hondo may be fully understood, it is perhaps 
 not amiss here to give some description of the place and 
 its inhabitants. The Arroyo Hondo is a mountain stream 
 which runs for several miles through a narrow mountain 
 gorge or caiion, and empties, without any bay or indenta- 
 tion in the coast, directly into the sea. The house of my host 
 is situated in a very wild and romantic spot at the bottom of 
 the canon, and within sound of the ocean surf. It is a new 
 stru6lure, built of adobe, with two stories, and very com- 
 fortably finished inside. A short distance from the house, 
 and lower down the canon, is an old hut, built of reeds. 
 There is a garden and orchard on the premises, and also 
 the ruins of a vineyard which once was cultivated by the 
 people of the Mission of Santa Ines, and sufficient plateau, 
 or level land, to herd quite a number of cattle. The inhab- 
 itants of the place consist of Pedro^ his wife, and six chil- 
 dren, — Chino^ the eldest boy, Juan^ the second, and Ave- 
 llino, the third; also two little girls, and an infant, whose 
 E 97 
 
98 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 sex I never knew.* In the old adobe hut above mention- 
 ed, there lived an old Santa Ines Indian whom they called 
 Konoya. He was bent with age, and must have numbered 
 nearly ninety years. His sole companions were two black 
 dogs. I became, in the course of my sojourn there, quite 
 friendly with old Konoya^ but all my attempts to cultivate 
 the acquaintance of those dogs were in vain. They ate at 
 the same table with their master, who always cooked his 
 frugal repast of jerked beef and pinole with his own aged 
 hands, without assistance from the family at the house. 
 
 Old Konoya was as black as a negro. He probably had 
 never known what it was to have his head or feet covered, 
 or a coat on his back. His sole raiment was a flannel 
 shirt, and a cloth tied round his loins; he also wore his 
 hair in a long queue, fancifully decorated. He never moved 
 on the most trivial occasion without his two dogs following 
 like shadows at his heels. Their sole errand on earth 
 seemed to be to guard that aged Indian, and no persuasion 
 or coaxing could ever produce any other effect than a sul- 
 len growl and a closer crouching at their master's feet. 
 The old man's occupation appeared to be to keep the^ gar- 
 den fence in repair, and that of the dogs to drive the 
 squirrels out of the corn. Whenever Konoya spoke, the 
 dogs would fly like lightning to do his bidding; but at the 
 sound of any other voice, they would only growl, and look 
 into the old man's face for instru6lions. During the two 
 weeks I was at this place, I never succeeded in patting one 
 of them on the head, nor could I have ever crossed the 
 threshold of the Indian's hut without his permission. The old 
 man was a very devout Catholic, and counted his beads 
 every morning. When he ascertained that I also was of 
 his religion, he became very friendly with me. He knew 
 that there was some mystery connected with my being 
 there, but never thoroughly understood what it was. He 
 was made aware that men were hunting me, and that no 
 
 * The senora was a very pious woman, and made it a practice 
 every morning to call her children around her to say their prayers, 
 and then send them out to their father, Pedro, to receive his blessing. 
 He g-enerally sat out on the porch during the family worship, in which 
 he never participated. 
 
100 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 one was to know of my presence there. He frequently 
 broug;ht me warning from the senoj-a to go farther into the 
 woods, when strangers were about the premises. 
 
 Of the children of my host, Chino, the eldest of the sons, 
 was, I should judge, about seventeen years of age. He was 
 looked upon as a sort of mayordomo^ and had a general 
 supervision of the ranch. Juan^ the second son, was about 
 twelve years old, and his business appeared to be to let the 
 water in on the crop from the Arroyo, herd the stock, 
 milk the cows, etc. Little Avell'ino^ the youngest, was his 
 mother's pet and my favorite. He was a beautiful boy, 
 not more than eight years old, and a perfect child of na- 
 ture. When, in the course of my sojourn at his father's 
 house, it became necessary for me to hide in the mountains, 
 it was the faithful little Avellino that brought me my food, 
 and he was generally the unsuspected little messenger sent 
 by his good mother to v^^arn me of danger, when my pur- 
 suers were about her house. He had a little pony of his 
 own, the gift of his grandfather, and he rode him without 
 saddle or bridle. He would take the sash from his waist, 
 and, calling the pony to him, who minded him like a^dog, 
 he would fasten the end of it around his nose, and then, 
 throwing the rest of it over his neck, would seize it in his 
 hand, and thus sway himself onto the pony's back, where, 
 when once seated, he was as much at home as if he had been 
 on his feet. He knew that it delighted me to see him ride, 
 and when I vs^ould applaud him with '^'^ i Bt^avo, Avellino!'" 
 away he would fly like the wind, cutting all manner of 
 capers, and rolling about on the back of his pony like the 
 circus rider in "the drunken-sailor scene." When Perb^o 
 was away, which was pretty much all the time, he would 
 ride races with his brothers, of which Paisano, as they 
 called me, was always chosen judge; and, notwithstanding 
 he sometimes came out behind, I generally found some ex- 
 cuse to decide in his favor. 
 
 Dear little Avellino! The remembrance of his warm 
 and faithful little heart will never fade while I live. 
 Neither he nor any of his brothers had ever been to a 
 school or could read a line of their own language, yet na- 
 ture had endowed that child with attributes which are want- 
 ing in the bosoms of thousands who wear the highest lit- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 101 
 
 erary honors of the earth, — sincere sympathy with the 
 distressed and helpless, hatred of the persecutor, and fear- 
 less fidelity to those who reposed confidence in him. I 
 cannot refrain from relating, at the risk of being tedious, 
 one little incident with regard to him, and then I will 
 resume the thread of my narrative. 
 
 The little fellow was a frolicsome, laughing child, and 
 very full of what boys call fun. One day, when I was 
 secreted in the mountain, he came to my hiding-place and 
 shouted, iPaisano! i Vamos^vamos! l Los Vigilantes!'' I im- 
 mediately sprung up, and was hastening up the mountain in 
 double-quick time when I was arrested by a loud laugh 
 from the urchin. On looking round, I perceived that I had 
 been "sold," and the little scamp was enjoying my fright 
 immensely. I was vexed that he should thus make a sport 
 of my miseries, and I have no doubt my features showed 
 it. The child stopped laughing, and, approaching me, put 
 his arms around my knees, and looked up into my face 
 with his large, dark eyes, in which I could read sorrow for 
 having caused me unnecessary alarm, and, murmuring 
 ^ '' i Pobrecito ! ' ' he took some pears out of his little pocket 
 and gave them to me. I could scarcely refrain from tears. 
 He never gave me a false alarm again. With this descrip- 
 tion of my retreat and its inhabitants, I again return to my 
 story. 
 
 As soon as Jack had finished his explanations with 
 regard to me, the sehora cooked some jerked beef and 
 made us some warm tea, and we enjoyed a hearty repast. 
 After dinner I offered the senora a Mexican doubloon, but 
 she refused to accept it. Power told me she would not 
 accept money for her hospitality, and advised me, if I wish- 
 ed to make her a present, to take some other mode of doing 
 it; which I determined to do on the first opportunity. 
 Jack and I then went upstairs to take some sleep, as it 
 would be necessary for him to remain with me until night, 
 in order not to return too soon to the Refugio, and thus 
 undeceive the Spaniard as to his having taken me to Los 
 Alamos. As soon as it was dark, Power saddled his horse, 
 and, before he left, told me that he was going in a few days 
 to Los Angeles, in order to be followed there by my pur- 
 suers, if he could succeed in making them believe he had 
 
102 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 taken me in that direction. He told Pedro to send a pack- 
 mule into town the next morning, and he would load him 
 with some coffee, sugar, and other necessaries; then, taking 
 with him the mule that we got from the Refugio, he bid us 
 good by and rode away. 
 
 Let the world say what it will of Jack Power, he is not 
 a bad man at hearty and his conduct toward me proved it. 
 I am not the apologist or t\\Q f?'ic)id of any man who lives 
 at open war w^ith society, and bids defiance to the laws, 
 whether in the character of a highway robber or that of a 
 hypocritical reformer who, under the protection of Vigilance 
 Committees, sets our constitution at naught and saps the 
 foundations on which rest our prosperity and respectability 
 as a people; but, admitting all that the newspapers may 
 report concerning this man to be true, he certainly did, in 
 my case, exhibit traits utterly foreign to the character of 
 an unscrupulous ruffian, such as he has been represented to 
 be; and it would be an act of base ingratitude on my part 
 to leave unimproved an opportunity of rescuing from uni- 
 versal odium the name of one to whom I am indebted for 
 the opportunity of laying this history of my wrongs ^before 
 the world, so far as a truthful statement of fa6ls as to his 
 conduct can so rescue it. He knew me only by reputation 
 and sight. He saw me for the first time in many years, at 
 a moment when my life hung so nicely in the balance that 
 a feather's weight would have decided it. He knew not 
 how justly I was pursued; he only knew how ruthlessly. 
 He saw that in an instant more, perhaps, my life would 
 have been sacrificed, and, prompted by some feeling not to 
 he found in the heart of an assassin, he saved me. Having 
 saved me, he remained true to me. I had no claim upon 
 his friendship; I had no feelings or associations in common 
 with him; I had never even spoken to him, that I remem- 
 ber. He knew that a price was set upon my head, and he 
 knew that it was in his power to earn it, and that, too, 
 without being suspe6led of having done so; and, again 
 obeying the mandates of a voice that never whispers into 
 the ear of a robber, though poor, he loftily scorned to better 
 himself by such baseness; and, not content with being true 
 to me himself, he exercised all his energies, influence, and 
 ingenuity to keep others so. He may be a "robber chief," 
 
NajTative of Edward McGowan 103 
 
 as the press has designated him, or he may not. I know 
 nothing of his ofFenses against society; I only know that, 
 in his intercourse with me, I found him a brave and noble- 
 hearted man, willing to risk his life on the side of a perse- 
 cuted and outraged stranger; and I fervently hope that for 
 that the Recording Angel will drop a blotting tear upon 
 the page of his misdeeds. 
 
 Early the next morning (the twelfth of July), Pedro 
 was ready to start with the pack-mule. I gave him eight 
 dollars to buy his children some ^^ dukes,'' also money to 
 get his eldest boy, Chino, a hat, and some brandy for him- 
 self and me, and off he started to town. I remained about 
 the house all that day and the next without anything of 
 interest occurring, and in the evening of the second day 
 Pedro returned with everything, including a pair of shoes, 
 blanket, and checked shirt, which Power had sent to me. I, 
 however, discovered that, though the brandy had arrived 
 with the other things, it was not in its "original package," 
 but was contained in Pedro's skin. He had left town with 
 it, all right, but, it being a very hot and dusty day, he be- 
 came dry, and then drier, and at length very dry, and had 
 finished by emptying the jug, which he left upon the road 
 as a useless encumbrance. He endeavored to excuse him- 
 self by telling me that my friend General Covarrubias had 
 instructed him not to give me any brandy, as I was impru- 
 dent when drinking, and might bring trouble on myself. 
 This appeared all very well, but I was compelled to doubt 
 the statement, knowing that the General could appreciate a 
 good glass of brandy himself, and was not likely to wish to 
 deny me the same comfort. However, I made up my mind 
 to do without it, and, indeed, it was much better for me. 
 During my stay at the Arroyo, my corpulency began to 
 diminish, and I perceived that I was again getting into 
 some sort of shape, while my general health was never 
 better. 
 
 During the first few days of my stay at the Arroyo, I 
 slept in the house, amusing myself in the daytime with 
 the children. Nothing of note occurred until about the 
 fourth day, when my friend the Spaniard who had been 
 deceived by Power about my whereabouts called at the 
 house. I was upstairs while he was there, and overheard 
 
 / 
 
104 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 his conversation with the senoj-a and Pedro. He had dis- 
 covered that he had been deceived by Power, and had been 
 hunting me up. He asked Pedro if he had heard or seen 
 anything of me, to which Pedro rephed that he had not. I 
 had by this time picked up enough of Spanish to under- 
 stand the general drift of their talk. The Spaniard ex- 
 pressed it as his opinion that Jacky Power had killed me 
 for my money, and hid my body somewhere. Pedro 
 appeared to be very much astonished at such a suspicion. 
 The wretch little knew that I was then safely listening to 
 him from a place of refuge which Jack had provided to 
 save me from being murdered and robbed by him. After 
 some further conversation with the family, he went away 
 as wise as he came, so far as my matters were concerned. 
 
 On the twelfth day of July, a relation of Pedro came 
 to the Arroyo. He was driving a band of cattle, and 
 made that point his stopping-place for the night. While 
 he was there, I, of course, kept myself out of sight. He 
 was, I think, the godfather of Avellino, and, before he 
 left the next morning, presented him with a fat three-year- 
 old steer. The gift was a very welcome one, as th,ere had 
 not been any fresh meat about the place for several days. 
 The day of his departure, while I was lying in my room, I 
 heard a voice that struck me as being very familiar. The 
 speaker was talking Spanish, however, and I did not under- 
 stand what he said. After he had gone, I looked after him, 
 and at once recognized him. It was Robert Hays, Esq., 
 the brother of the present U. S. surveyor-general for 
 California. Although I knew him very intimately, I did 
 not hail him, as he had several persons with him. Poor 
 Bob ! It was to be the last time I ever saw him on earth. 
 He has since died. He had a six-mule team with him, 
 and had stopped to inquire the road of the senora, who in- 
 formed me that the party were from the lower country, 
 and were inquiring the road to San Luis Obispo. 
 
 Toward evening of that day, I suddenly entered the 
 house, and, seeing a woman standing in the door, mistook 
 her for the senora^ and was about to address her when I 
 discovered that I was mistaken. It was a daughter of old 
 Miguel Cota, of the Refugio. She was accompanied by a 
 young brother, a lad about seventeen years of age. She 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 105 
 
 at once recognized me, and I knew that I was now sub- 
 jelled, by this mischance, to real danger. The very people, 
 of all others, from whom I wished to keep my hiding-place 
 a secret, were the inhabitants of the Refugio. As has been 
 before stated, it was a public drinking-place, and general 
 rendezvous for all the idlers, newsmongers, and rascals of 
 the neighborhood; and besides, my anxious friend, the 
 Spaniard of Las Cruces, who, I knew, was endeavoring to 
 discover my whereabouts, was a frequent visitor there. 
 It was a bad business, but I had to make the best of it. 
 She did not remain long, and, after she had left, the senora 
 expressed her anxiety lest my secret should become known. 
 I tried to reassure her, telling her that I did not think she 
 would tell of my whereabouts, though I felt quite sure that 
 either she or her brother would certainly do so; and it 
 turned out that I was not mistaken in my opinion. 
 
 The very next morning, before I was up, old Miguel 
 Cota was in the house, and the senora had great difficulty 
 in getting me out of it without his seeing me. He told her, 
 as I afterward ascertained, that he had heard of my being 
 there, and was very inquisitive about me. The senora 
 told him that I had left her house that morning, and gone 
 to the lighthouse at Point Conception. The old fellow 
 remained all day at the house, while I kept concealed in 
 the cafion. The senora sent me, by Avellino, some nice 
 fresh meat, they having killed the steer that day, and some 
 warm tea. Several other persons visited the place during 
 the day, but at night they all left, and I returned to the 
 house. The senora told me, before I retired, that she 
 thought old Miguel really believed that I had gone to Point 
 Conception, and I felt greatly relieved to hear it. 
 
 Things went on very quietly for two or three days after 
 this, and nothing of importance occurred until the night of 
 the fourteenth of July. I still slept in the house, and was 
 enjoying a pleasant rest when, at about two o'clock, a.m., 
 I was awakened by the sound of horses' hoofs approaching 
 the door. The visitor proved to be General Covarrubias. 
 He had ridden all the way from Santa Barbara to inform 
 me that a deputation of twenty or twenty-five of the Vigi- 
 lance Committee had arrived that evening, in the steamer 
 from San Francisco, and would, without doubt, begin the 
 
 [8] E* 
 
106 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 pursuit after me at daylight. He had therefore kindly 
 come to give me timely warning, in order that I might put 
 myself out of the way. He could not give me the names 
 of the deputation, but was enabled to inform me that Sel'im 
 E. Woodworth was one of the leaders. I thought this was 
 very strange, for both Selim and his brother had told me, a 
 few days after the organization of the Committee, that, 
 although they had been members of the Vigilance Com- 
 mittee of 1851, they were not of this one, and saw no 
 necessity for its organization. What had worked this 
 wonderful change in two months, I am unable to say; noth- 
 ing had occurred since the organization of the Committee 
 more likely to lead them to join it, than the event which 
 brought it into existence. One significant fact, however, is, 
 that Frederick A. Woodworth was elected to represent 
 San Francisco in the state senate, last winter, by the vote 
 of the Vigilantes. 
 
 General Covarrubias did not remain long with me, as he 
 had to return to Santa Barbara, a distance of thirty-five 
 miles, before day, to prevent his visit to the Arroyo from 
 being known. Thus that generous-hearted old gentleman 
 had taken upon himself a ride of seventy miles in one night, 
 to give warning to a poor outcast, against whom it seemed 
 the whole world was in arms. May years of honor and 
 happiness be still in store for him, and his old age as green 
 as will ever be my grateful recollecSlion of his kindness. 
 He gave me a bottle of really good brandy, which he 
 brought from Santa Barbara for me, and, after telling me 
 to be sure to get out of the way as soon as it was light, he 
 rode back to town. I have been since informed that he 
 was seen, that night, going to the Arroyo Hondo by one of 
 Don Pablo De la Guerra's people; on being informed of 
 which, that gentleman immediately sent the man to one 
 of his ranchos in the interior, to prevent his telling it. 
 
 As soon as it was light, I took my blankets and water, 
 with provisions sufficient to last me several days in case 
 circumstances should cut off my communication with the 
 house, and went out with little AvelHno, who carried the 
 things on his pony, in search of a good hiding-place. I 
 selected one at no great distance from the house, on the 
 mountain-side, where, from its steepness and the thick 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 107 
 
 growth of chaparral, it was impossible for a horseman to 
 approach me. No one but JvelHno, who was to visit me 
 as often as possible, knew the place of my retreat. I re- 
 mained in this place five days without interruption, Avelli- 
 no visiting me every day, and bringing from his good 
 mother warm tea, eggs, etc. During the first part of my 
 sojourn here, Avellino, who daily brought me the news, 
 informed me that several of ^'^Los Yankees^" as he called 
 them, had been riding about the neighborhood, but, as yet, 
 none of them had approached the house. One morning, 
 however, he brought me the intelligence that a stranger, who 
 was an American, and armed with a six-shooter, was at the 
 house. Avellino said he talked a great deal about me, and 
 professed to be my friend. The little fellow did not return 
 to me that day, as usual, with my dinner. From this I sus- 
 pected that there must be something wrong. About the 
 middle of the day, I heard loud shooting in the vicinity of 
 the house. First there were six shots fired from a pistol, 
 in rapid succession, and then no more shooting for a long 
 time, when I heard three or four tremendous reports, nearly 
 as loud as would have been made by a cannon. This threw 
 me into great consternation. I did not know what on 
 earth to make of it. I surmised all sorts of things. 1 
 was in a dreadful agony of suspense, and sometimes fan- 
 cied that perhaps the Committee had received proof that 
 Pedro had sheltered me, and, not finding me on his premises, 
 had battered down his house, and killed him and the sehora^ 
 and possibly the little children, and old Konoya and his two 
 black dogs, and everything else about the place. I lay still, 
 however, in my hiding-place, without stirring out of it till night 
 came. Still no one came near me, and I now made quite 
 sure that something unfortunate had occurred. I slept 
 none the whole of that anxious night, and the morning 
 found me still unvisited. At length, about noon, to my 
 great relief and joy, I saw little Avellino coming to me 
 with my food, and so great was my delight that I could 
 not refrain from taking him in my arms and kissing him. 
 I tried to learn from him what had happened, but, though 
 the child did his best to make me understand him, he could 
 not succeed. I could only learn from, the Spanish word 
 which signified it, that something had been killed, ^r\d could 
 
108 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 also make out that everybody about the house was safe. I 
 made him understand that I wanted to see his father, to 
 which he rephed, Poco tiempo," and gave me to know that 
 the American was still at the house. Avellino left me, and 
 toward evening he guided Pedro to my hiding-place. The 
 whole mystery of the preceding day was then explained. 
 Pedro told me that the American was traveling from Santa 
 Barbara, according to his own story, to San Luis Obispo, 
 and had stopped at his house to rest himself for a day or 
 so. Shortly before dinner-time, the dogs had started a Cali- 
 fornia lion in the orchard, and ran him into a tree. The 
 stranger had expended all the shots of his six-shooter on 
 him without killing him, and they had then sent over to the 
 Refugio for an escopeta, with which he was finally dispatched. 
 This accounted for the loud reports I had heard. Pedro 
 gave me a copy of the San Francisco Herald, and 
 another of the New York Spirit of the Times, which the 
 stranger had left behind him. Whoever that Vigilante 
 was, I beg leave here to return him my thanks for the news 
 with which he so kindly supplied me. Pedro told me that 
 the fellow talked a great deal about me, and professed to 
 be my friend, telling him that I could return to San Fran- 
 cisco, after the excitement had died away, without molesta- 
 tion, etc. I told Pedro that the man was a spy, and had 
 only been endeavoring to draw from him some information 
 as to my whereabouts. There was no good reason why he 
 should require to rest nearly two whole days after riding 
 only thirty-five miles, the distance from Santa Barbara, 
 and I, of course, understood that his protestations of friend- 
 ship for me were only intended to throw Pedro off of his 
 guard, and induce him to be communicative. Pedro agreed 
 with me, and, after some little further conversation, returned 
 to the house. Two days after this, and after the steamer 
 had gone down the coast, I came down from the mountain 
 and prepared to sleep in the caiion, which was much 
 warmer and pleasanter. After I had spread out my 
 blankets, it being quite dark, I went to the house to pay a 
 visit to the seiiora. I stayed some time there before I re- 
 turned to my sleeping-place. It was very dark when I 
 got back, and, as I was about getting under my blankets, 
 I felt something crawl along my body and coil itself up 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 109 
 
 beside me. I, of course, knew what it was, and as I was 
 springing: from the blankets the reptile began to rattle. I 
 ran off a short distance, and, peering through the dim star- 
 light, I could see its outlines as it lay coiled near the blan- 
 kets, rattling its tail. Thank Heaven, however, it had 
 given me warning, and I could not help thinking that, in 
 that respect, it was more chivalrous than the bloodhounds 
 of the Committee, who were trying to steal upon me, night 
 and day, to murder me. This was really one of the worst 
 
 I ran off a short distance, and, peering through the dim starlight, I could see its outlines as it 
 lay coiled near the blankets, rattling its tail. 
 
 frights I had during my campaign. I did not go near my 
 blankets again that night, but returned immediately to the 
 house and informed them of my narrow escape. The 
 senora put me upstairs, in the bed with her oldest boy, 
 Chino. After I had got into my little friend's bed, I could 
 not sleep. It was not half as comfortable as my blankets 
 on the ground; and I had been sleeping in the open air so 
 many nights, that the air of the room was disagreeably 
 close. The bed, too, was full of fleas, which were devour- 
 ing me. Toward day, however, I succeeded in getting to 
 
110 Nai'rative of Edward McGowan 
 
 sleep, and so remained till about eight o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, when Avellino came to call me to breakfast. It had 
 been ready some time, and waiting for me. I got up and 
 dressed, but felt so badly from the loss of sleep and the 
 bites of the fleas, that I told the seiiora I would take a bath 
 before I breakfasted. About an eighth of a mile from the 
 house, there was a clear, cold spring, in which I bathed 
 every day, to make myself tough and hearty. To this 
 spring, then, I went, and enjoyed a most delightful bath. I 
 had just got out of the water when I heard the voice of 
 Avellino calling out to me, "/ Paisano, Paisam f \ replied, 
 ^'^iJgm, aqiii, miichacho f He came running up to me 
 breathlessly, exclaiming, '' i Los hombres en el casa ! i Mucha 
 mala ! i Fi^ilan tes ! i E scope tas ! i Vamos , vamosf — making 
 motions with his hand to me to run up the mountain. At 
 the same time, he gathered my blankets, which lay where I 
 had spread them the night before, and put them in a hollow 
 tree. I knew that the little fellow was in earnest, and, 
 hastily throwing on my clothes, I moved off as fast as my 
 legs could carry me, while Avellino ran back to the house. 
 
 I had not been long on the mountain before Ped?-Q^ came 
 and informed me that I had scarcely left the house before 
 two men, armed with guns, rushed into it, and went directly 
 upstairs to the bed where I had slept. Then they searched 
 the house thoroughly, and afterwards old Konoya' s hut. 
 While they were ransacking the hut, the sefiora, fearing 
 that I would come back, dispatched Avellino to warn me 
 of my danger. 
 
 He told me that one of them was known to him, and that 
 he was a keeper of the lighthouse, named Meacham. The 
 other one, he said, was a large man, with sandy whiskers, 
 probably from San Francisco, and a stranger to him. They 
 told him they had ridden from the lighthouse that morn- 
 ing, a distance of twenty miles, Meacham acting as guide. 
 He said that they were then eating the breakfast that had 
 been prepared for ?ne. Here was an unexpected state of 
 things ! As there were only two of them, I suggested to 
 Pedro the idea of capturing them. Pedro having no gun, 
 however, I concluded that if we took them at all, it would 
 have to be done singly. One of the men, Pedro told me, 
 had left his gun leaning against the house, outside the door. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 111 
 
 when he went in to breakfast. I proposed to Pedro to walk 
 into the house and engage them in conversation while I 
 should manage to get the gun and shoot the San Francisco 
 man, and we would then capture Meacham. 
 
 Reader, be not startled at this avowal of so bloody an 
 intent. I deliberately declare to you, that, if it had been 
 feasible, I would have done it, and felt now no pang of 
 remorse or upbraiding of conscience on account of it. A 
 cruel and relentless war was being waged against me by a 
 set of lawless miscreants; I was myself hunted with guns, 
 like a wild beast; and it was as much my natural right to 
 turn and rend my pursuers, if I could, as it is that of a bear 
 or a wolf to destroy, if he can, the huntsman who has 
 wounded him. The question of murder or manslaughter, 
 or any other legal phrase which designates the killing of 
 man by his fellow, enters not into the consideration of what 
 I was about to do. These men had placed themselves out- 
 side the pale of the law, and even of civilization, by their 
 barbarous persecution of me, and I would have killed one 
 of them with as little compunction as I would a wild Indian 
 who was pursuing me in a hostile wilderness. I offered 
 Pedro half of the money I had if he would assist me to 
 carry out my plan, but he would not listen to it. He said 
 that Meacham was his friend, and harm might befall him 
 in the melee, and besides, it would be very sure to bring 
 trouble on himself. 
 
 Finding that there was no chance of carrying out my 
 design, I was obliged to give it up, and let the bloodhound 
 live, and bitterly do I still regret that it had to be so. I 
 was anxious to get a look at them, and Pedro and I walked 
 cautiously down toward the house. The gun had by this 
 time been taken indoors, and I did not see it. Pedro said 
 that the San Francisco man talked a great deal to Meacham 
 about me, expressing his surprise that I had not yet been 
 taken. He would have talked on about the plans of my 
 pursuers, but Meacham checked him by telling him that 
 Pedro understood English. Meacham himself spoke Span- 
 ish. They asked the seiiora a great many questions 
 about me. She told them she did not know who the man 
 was that had been to her house (the Refugio people had 
 given the information of my having been positively seen 
 
112 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 there), nor where he had gone, and asked Meacham if he 
 had not been to the hghthouse, where he started to go when 
 he left her house. They evidently suspe61ed that she knew 
 more than she chose to tell, and finally they told her that 
 if she would tell them where I was, they would give her 
 three thousand dollars. But the faithful woman, though 
 very poor, and with a large family of children and a drunken 
 husband, persisted in denying that she knew anything 
 about me. 
 
 Finding that they could make nothing out of her, and 
 probably giving up the idea that I was about the premises, 
 they finally mounted their horses and rode toward Santa 
 Barbara; Meacham stating, before he left, that he would 
 be back the next day, on his way to the lighthouse. As 
 they rode away, I had a full view of them, but they were 
 too far off for me to distinguish the features of the large 
 man from San Francisco, with the sandy whiskers. After 
 they were gone, I did partly persuade Pedro into a plan by 
 which, if they came back, I could get a chance at the large 
 man from San Francisco. Meacham only returned, how- 
 ever, and he did not stop at the house, but rode directly 
 on. 
 
 The occurrence of the morning convinced me that there 
 must be something foul going on about the premises, and I 
 confess I had begun to susped: that Pedro's avarice could 
 not stand much more temptation. The fact of those two 
 men rushing directly to the bed I had occupied, and one of 
 them being a great friend of Pedro, looked very badly. 
 However, I did not communicate my suspicions to any one 
 of the family, and determined to keep a sharp lookout, and, 
 at least, not come so near being caught napping again. 
 
 About the time of this attempt to kidnap me, another 
 cargo of "reformers" landed at Santa Barbara, in the 
 schooner "Exact." They were under the command of T. 
 D. Johns, a colonel of one of the Vigilance Committee regi- 
 ments. Whether this man's antecedents in California 
 peculiarly fitted him for the task of reforming the morals of 
 his fellow-citizens or not, is a question which, at some future 
 day, I propose to investigate for the enlightenment of our 
 own day and generation, as well as of posterity. This im- 
 maculate 'purifier" had under his command James F. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 113 
 
 Curtis, now chief of police in San Francisco, — an office 
 bestowed upon him by the Vigilance vote as a reward for 
 his zealous and self-sacrificing efforts to subvert the con- 
 stitution and insult the laws. There were also in the party 
 D. W. C. Thompson, Charles H. Gough, and a score or 
 two of obscure lunch-eaters, hired by the day to do the 
 Committee's dirty bidding, whose glorious names I regret 
 to be unable to hand down to posterity with befitting honor. 
 They landed part of their force at the lighthouse at Point 
 Conception, and placed them under the command of Meach- 
 am, who, enjoying the position of lighthouse-keeper merely 
 to vary the monotony of his existence, amused himself by 
 perpetrating treason against the government, upon whose 
 bounty he lived. They landed in a small boat, which they 
 presented to Meacham, and I afterward understood that he 
 had promised to give it to Pedro. As they never found 
 me, however, at Pedro's house, I scarcely think he made 
 good his promise. 
 
 The "Exact" remained but a short time at Santa Bar- 
 bara, and then proceeded down the coast, stationing men 
 at San Pedro, San Diego, and all the important points 
 on the coast, even as far down as the Rio Colorado. I 
 have reason to believe that by this time my friend Jack 
 Power had managed to get most of them on the wrong scent, 
 for by far the greater portion of the party in the "Exact" 
 went down the coast.* 
 
 * The Vigilance Committee Police Arrived after the 
 Bird has Flown. — The Gazette of the 17th says: On Sunday last, 
 the schooner Exact, from San Francisco, arrived at this port. She 
 had a large number of passengers on board. Some of them came on 
 shore, and are still in the county. The schooner set sail on Tuesday 
 last. 
 
 Meanwhile Ned Visits Los Angeles. — The Los Angeles Star, 
 after narrating the events which transpired at Santa Barbara, gives us 
 the following further information as to the subsequent movements of 
 this modern "will-o'-the-wisp" : — 
 
 After this miraculous escape, (the Santa Barbara affair, ) we next 
 heard of him, on Thursday evening, being in Los Angeles. The 
 report was general that he was here, — nobody seemed to doubt it, — yet 
 we could not discover any one who had seen him; although a certain 
 party — somewhat of a wag, however — went to the express-office inquir- 
 ing for letters for McGowan. — Bulletin, July 20th. [?] 
 
114 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 Most of the above information as to the movements of 
 my pursuers I received from a nephew of Don Pablo De 
 la Guerra, who visited me at the Arroyo a day or two 
 after the visit of Meacham and his San Francisco friend. 
 This young gentleman spoke English very well. His 
 father was an Englishman named Hartnell, who had mar- 
 ried into the De la Guerra family. He informed me that 
 the San Pranciscans reported all sorts of stories as to my 
 whereabouts. * 
 
 I had forgotten to state, that, while General Covarrubias 
 was making the night-ride to give me warning of the arri- 
 val of Woodworth's party in the steamer, Don Pablo, not 
 being very anxious for them to commence the hunt after 
 me that night, entertained them at a sort of evening party 
 at his house. 7 his young gentleman had been present on 
 that occasion, and gave me an account of it. He said that 
 Dr. Den was present, and asked ''^Little Woody,''' as his 
 friends called him, if he had turned "rat-catcher." Wood- 
 
 *Ned McGovvan not Captured. — There Is an old legend related 
 somewhere about the king of the French who, with a large* army, 
 on a certain memorable occasion, marched up a hill, the name of 
 which has not yet been rescued from oblivion, and, after having 
 performed this feat, marched down again. So with the schooner 
 Exact. It spread all sail abovit ten days ago for Santa Barbara — 
 arrived there — anchored there — landed the Vigilance Committee 
 police there — waited for their return — took them again on board, and 
 steered for this port, where she arrived yesterday. The cruise of the 
 Exact may be summed up In a few words. She sailed for Santa 
 Barbara, and sailed back again. It was rumored, when she cleared, 
 that a large nimiber of the Vigilance Committee police took passage 
 upon her for Santa Barbara, for the purpose of taking Ned McGowan, 
 who, according to the reports circulated In this city previous to the 
 sailing, was completely run down to the heel, his face covered with 
 black patches, and his hat — even that white hat — missing. But, not- 
 withstanding that he was supposed to have been reduced to this deplor- 
 able condition, he again "dodged," and has not been heard from 
 since. It must be admitted that he Is an eccentric genius. After his 
 flight from this city, we first hear of him at Carson Valley, and scarce- 
 ly sufliclent time has elapsed to form a correct idea of the celerity 
 of his movements, when he turns up at Santa Barbara. At this point 
 a vigorous search Is instituted, but no traces of the fugitive can be found. 
 Meanwhile he dies, and the sheriff of Santa Barbara offers a reward 
 for his body, and it is by no means certain that McGowan may not 
 yet claim, in propria persona, that reward. Where he will turn up 
 next Is beyond the range of conjecture. — S. F. Herald, July 26th. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 115 
 
 worth replied, that he was there in the capacity of a deputy 
 sheriff, and that, if he succeeded in capturing me, he should^ 
 of couT'se, hand me over to the officers of the law (of course 
 he would ! ) , and actually exhibited a bench-warrant. Here, 
 then, was the first gun fired at me from a legitimate quar- 
 ter. How these persons came into possession of those war- 
 rants is a mystery to me to this day. I have ascertained 
 that David Scannell, the sheriff of San Francisco, did not 
 depute them, and he alone had power to do so. Thomas 
 Hayes, the county clerk, has assured me that there is no 
 record in his office of the issuance of any such warrant, and 
 none of the newspapers of San Francisco appear then to 
 have known that any members of the Vigilance Committee 
 were in the possession of authority to arrest me, under the 
 law.* Probably Mr. District Attorney Byrne is able to 
 
 ♦Pursuit OF Ned McGowan. — Yesterday, after the arrival of the 
 steamer Sea Bird, and the spreading of the news that the notorious 
 Judge Ned McGowan had been discovered in the neighborhood of 
 Santa Barbara, several members of the Vigilance Committee went 
 to Sheriff Scannell and asked him to deliver to them the warrant for 
 McGowan' s arrest, which had been issued from the court of sessions 
 when, as will be recollected, McGowan was indicted for the murder 
 of James King of William. The Sheriff refused to give up the war- 
 rant, but assured them that he would send Deputy Sheriff Harrison 
 with the warrant after McGowan on the next steamer, which goes 
 to-morrow. The Vigilantes retired, and as the affair seemed to them 
 to require dispatch, they immediately took measures for pursuing, and 
 if possible capturing, the fugitive on their own responsibility. The 
 schooner Exact was chartered by the Committee, made ready for sea, 
 ten members of the Vigilance police placed upon her, and, last even- 
 ing, about ten o'clock, all arrangements having been completed, she 
 was towed out beyond the Heads by the steam-tug Hercules, and pro- 
 ceeded on her voyage with all the sail that she could spread upon her 
 masts. — 6". F. Bulletin, July 10th. 
 
 The Arrest of Ned McGowan. — The Sheriff, it is stated, has 
 sent one of his deputies on the Sea Bird, empowered to arrest Mc- 
 Gowan if he should be found at Santa Barbara. This is a very 
 proper proceeding, although it would have been better to have author- 
 ized the delegation of the Vigilance Committee, who went down on 
 the Exact, to arrest this man. We suppose that a delegation of the 
 Committee also went down on the Sea Bird, as it would prevent 
 future difficulties with the authorities to obtain possession of Mc- 
 Gowan previous to his arrival in this city. McGowan must be tried 
 by the Committee. The people will be satisfied with no other mode of 
 trial, and we are confident that no other mode of trial will secure the 
 ends of justice. There is no body so fit for the investigation of this 
 
116 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 solve the mystery. His brother, Lafayette Byrne, was the 
 deputy sheriff attending on the court of sessions, and it is 
 a little remarkable that when Mr. District Attorney Byrne 
 was called upon to give new bonds under the Consolidation 
 Act, Selim E. Woodworth and his brother, the senator, 
 became his sureties. Since my return, I have endeavored 
 in vain to discover who it was that deputed these people, 
 and thus put an additional weapon into the hands of my 
 enemies. It is almost as difficult to solve this matter as it 
 was for my enemies to discover the ' white hat" which was 
 supposed to cover the head of the ubiquitous author of this 
 narrative. One thing is very certain : they had the warrants ; 
 and it is equally certain, in my mind, that, had either Mr. 
 Selim E. Woodworth or any of his gang succeeded in cap- 
 turing me, the officers of the law would have had very little 
 chance of exercising their functions in my case. Under the 
 circumstances which so notoriously surrounded me, it can 
 scarcely be insisted that giving me aid and comfort, even 
 against these warrants, could be construed into the com- 
 pounding of a felony. On the contrary, all aid extended 
 to me, under the circumstances, was only so much done 
 toward preventing the perpetration of a felony on me. 
 
 I also learned from Mr. Hartnell that placards offering 
 large rewards for my body if, as was by some supposed, I 
 was dead, were posted in conspicuous places throughout 
 Santa Barbara. They were printed in both English and 
 
 man's case as that which has ferreted out the crimes of his accom- 
 pHces and pvuiished their perpetrators. 
 
 Now, in advance of any action in this matter, we wish clearly to 
 give the authorities of this city notice, in the name of the people, that 
 no tricks or quibbles of law will avail to save this man from his 
 deserved doom. No habeas corpus writ, or other means of exciting a 
 public disturbance, need be resorted to. The people are determined 
 to carry out their purposes, in spite of any opposition — and opposition 
 will therefore be useless. McGowan must not be left to the law to 
 deal with him. We trust, therefore, that either the Exact will arrive at 
 Santa Barbara in time to place him on board that vessel previous 
 to tlie arrival of the steamer, or that those who have gone down in 
 the steamer will succeed in arresting him in the name of the Commit- 
 tee, and will deliver him to that body on his arrival in this city. Of 
 course, all these remarks are based on the supposition that McGowan 
 has been taken, which is by no means a certainty. — S. F. Bulletin, 
 July 14th [llth'] . 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 117 
 
 Spanish. The description of my person was very bad, 
 though it must be confessed I was not in a situation to be 
 remarkably cleanly or neat in my apparel. Among other 
 things, the placards set forth that I chewed tobacco, and did 
 it in a filthy manner. I have never chewed a piece of 
 tobacco in my life. In my age, too, they made a mistake of 
 seven years. I tried very hard, afterwards, to get one of 
 the original copies, but could not succeed. Mr. Hartnell 
 informed me that the name of Wm. T. Coleman, president 
 of the Vigilance Committee, was appended to them. The 
 following is a copy of one of them, which was published 
 in the Santa Barbara Gazette: — 
 
 300 DOLLARS REWARD ! ! 
 
 It being rumored that one EDWARD McGOWAN, a fugitive 
 from justice, on the charge of murder, from San Francisco County, 
 who was last seen in Santa Barbara, has been murdered for a sum of 
 money known to have been in his possession, the above reward will 
 be paid for the recovery of his body, or for information that will lead 
 to his discovery, by applying to the office of Russell Heath, sheriff of 
 Santa Barbara County. July 14, 1856. 
 
 Descripcion de McGowan. — Su estatura es de cinco pies y 
 nuevo pulgadosj bastante grueso, su peso sera como ciento setenta 
 libros; mas de cicuenta anos; acostumbra mascar tabaco en estre- 
 mo; ojos aguitenos, pintando en canas, y sucio en su persona. 
 
 The following is a translation of the passage: — 
 
 Description of McGowan. — He is about five feet nine inches 
 tall; tolerably stout; his weight about a hundred and seventy pounds; 
 somewhat more than fifty years of age; and accustomed to chew to- 
 bacco to excess. He has gray eyes and hair, and is very dirty in his 
 person. 
 
 I remained concealed in my hiding-place, making an 
 occasional call on the family at the house, until Saturday, 
 the twenty-sixth day of July. Things were so quiet, and 
 so few persons visited the Arroyo, that I began to think a 
 storm must be brewing, and became uneasy. On that day 
 I made an arrangement with the senora to send her to 
 Santa Barbara with a note to General Covarrubias, and 
 she was also to make a careful reconnoissance, and pick up 
 any information she could with regard to the movements of 
 the enemy. Accordingly, she cooked me a chicken stuffed 
 with eggs, etc., and gave me enough food to last four or five 
 
118 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 days. I gave her twenty dollars, and some money to 
 Ch'im to spend in town for himself and buy me a bottle of 
 brandy. She had five horses saddled, and took all of her 
 children with her. After giving me strict instructions, on 
 no account to come near the house for fear of a surprise, 
 she rode off. As soon as they had gone, I betook myself 
 to my retreat on the mountain, and prepared to lie close 
 until my good hostess should return. When night came, I 
 hung my chicken and other food on a limb, and supposed 
 that it would there be safe. But what was my consterna- 
 tion, on awakening in the morning, at finding that it had all 
 mysteriously disappeared ! Some sneaking coyote, with 
 which that portion of the country abounds, had stolen it in 
 the night. Here was a dilemma ! 1 was without food, and 
 knew that the senora would not return for several days, 
 and was at a loss what to do. Finally I walked down the 
 canon toward old Konoya' s hut, but had no sooner come in 
 sight of the orchard than, to my great surprise and alarm, 
 I espied a man, with a red shirt on, lying down, with his 
 face to the ground. I instantly started back into the cha- 
 parral, and escaped his notice. I returned to my Jiiding- 
 place at once, and remained there till dark, when I again 
 came down, and entered Konoyd s hut. I got from the old 
 man some jerked beef, and immediately started back to my 
 retreat. This was on Sunday evening, the 27th of July. 
 I had not gone far before I heard footsteps, and immedi- 
 ately got out of the way. I observed two men, one of 
 whom was Pedro, go to the place where I usually hid. I 
 followed on after them, and when they arrived at the spot, 
 Pedro said, "Cow^. " This v^^as the usual word to signify 
 to me his approach. I appeared before him, wondering 
 who could be the stranger with him. I saw that Pedro 
 was very drunk. He told me the man lived at Las Cruces, 
 where he had been spending the day with him, but did not 
 give me his name. I was very angry at Pedro's condu6t, 
 for he had promised Power, when he put me in his charge, 
 that no one should know of my place of concealment, out- 
 side of his own family. He pressed me to drink some bad 
 brandy out of a bottle which he had with him, which 1 de- 
 clined, and he and his companion fell into a conversation 
 in Spanish, of which I could understand that I was the sub- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 119 
 
 ject. The stranger apparently did not believe that I was 
 the person that Pedro was representing me to be, but the 
 drunken wretch assured him that I was, and spoke to him 
 in the most imprudent manner about my friends in Santa 
 Barbara, telling him their names. After they had con- 
 versed some time, the stranger asked me, in Spanish, for 
 sixty dollars. I understood him perfectly well, but pre- 
 tended that I did not, and asked Pedro what he said. He 
 replied, '* He wants you to give him sixty dollars, and he 
 will not tell any one that you are here." My first impulse 
 was to take out my purse and give him the money, but a 
 moment's refle6tion prevented my committing that act of 
 folly. I remembered that Pedro had never seen my 
 money, and thought it best that he should not. I told them 
 that I had hid my purse in the mountain, but that if they 
 would come the next day, I would give the man what he 
 demanded. This did not appear exactly to satisfy them; 
 nevertheless, after some further conversation, they left me. 
 
 After they had gone, I began to reflect upon my situation, 
 and the more I did so, the more satisfied I became that new 
 and unseen perils were gathering around me. I knew that 
 there were others about the house; for the appearance of 
 the red-shirted man I had seen in the orchard was as yet 
 unaccounted for. I determined not to sleep in my usual 
 place, and, accordingly, I moved a short distance from it, 
 where I could see anything that might transpire, without 
 being visible myself, and kept watch all night. 
 
 Just before daylight I saw three men coming up the 
 canon. They were conversing in a low tone, and I could 
 gather that it was about me. They went to the spot 
 where I had slept the night before, and, not finding me 
 there, again went away. 
 
 My mind was now made up that, beyond all doubt, Pedro 
 had some hellish design on me, and I concluded that the 
 Arroyo Hondo was no longer a safe refuge. Accordingly, 
 as soon as it was sufficiently light, I went down to old Ko- 
 noya's hut and got the only remaining piece of jerked 
 beef he had, — and a very small piece it was, — and, leaving 
 there a blanket the seiiora had loaned me, took the one 
 that Power had sent me, and, with many a bitter impreca- 
 tion as I contrasted in mv mind the treachery of the scoun- 
 
120 
 
 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 drel Pedro with the fideHty of his good wife, I took my 
 way up the mountain, and became -once more a friendless 
 wanderer. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 " Whence com'st thou, Uervise? " 
 
 " From the outlaw's den, 
 " A fugitive — " 
 
 Corsair. 
 
 My determination was to go as speedily as possible to 
 the residence of Dr. Nicholas A. Den. I had learned from 
 Mr. Hartnell that he had no sympathy with my perse- 
 cutors; and I knew that if I could but get under his pro- 
 tection, I had nothing to fear, at any rate from treachery, 
 and I believed that his knowledge of the country and its 
 inhabitants, together with his high standing in the com- 
 munity, would enable me more easily to bafHe my pur- 
 suers. 
 
 After leaving the Arroyo Hondo on the morning of the 
 twenty-eighth, I struck out toward Santa Barbara, between 
 which place and the Arroyo Dr. Den's place was situated. 
 I did not go far, however, merely crossing the point of the 
 hill where I had my hiding-place, and, coming to a small 
 gulch filled with a thick growth of wild mustard, I halted 
 by the side of a little stream which I found there, and lay 
 concealed until nightfall. As soon as it was quite dark, I 
 took to the sea-beach and walked to the southward about 
 twelve miles, when I came to the ranch of Senor Ignacio 
 Ortega^ before mentioned as being between the Arroyo and 
 the Doctor's residence. Here I got among some bushes, 
 and slept soundly until day. Before it was quite light, I 
 again took to the sea-beach, and had good walking until I 
 
 [9] F 121 
 
122 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 arrived at the Doctor's house. As I approached I saw no 
 one but a few of the Doctor's people, mostly Indians. The 
 family were not yet stirring. 
 
 My appearance seemed to cause them much astonish- 
 ment. They eyed me very closely as I went boldly toward 
 the house and inquired for Doctor Den. With difficulty 
 they made me understand that the Doctor was absent from 
 home, on a visit to Santa Ines. They also informed me 
 that his lady, whom they called Dofia Rosa, had not yet 
 risen. I sat down on the tongue of a wagon near the 
 house, and, keeping a good lookout, determined to wait 
 until the family were moving. While I sat here I was 
 very unpleasantly scrutinized by a tall, gray-haired old 
 Spaniard, who, I afterward learned, belonged to Monterey. 
 I sat for about an hour, and was becoming quite uneasy 
 under the stare of the old man, when the door of the house 
 opened, and a very gentle and amiable looking lady ap- 
 peared. Her complexion was much fairer than that of the 
 generality of California ladies, and she had a remarkably 
 sweet expression of countenance. I at once decided in my 
 mind that she was the wife of my friend the Doctor. I 
 addressed her in English, but discovered that she did not 
 speak the language. I then tried Erench, and was equally 
 unsuccessful. Directly, however, she said to me, Poco 
 tie?npo,'' and, entering the house, she presently returned 
 with a beautiful little child, who proved to be her daughter. 
 I took her to be about ten years of age, though I afterward 
 ascertained that she was exactly twelve. There was some- 
 thing about the child which made her appear to my eyes 
 like an angel of mercy as she fearlessly approached me, 
 and said to me, in silvery tones and in perfect English, 
 
 What is your will, sir .? " I replied to her, ' ' My dear, I am 
 very hungry, and want something to eat, and then, if you 
 can get it for me, I want a pen, ink, and paper to write a 
 note to General Covarrubias. " 
 
 As soon as 1 mentioned Covarrubias, Dona Rosa has- 
 tily beckoned to me to come at once into the house. I saw 
 at a glance that she had heard of my persecution and 
 suspected who I was. She appeared to be in the greatest 
 trepidation, and I at once entered the house and informed 
 her who I was. Her sweet little daughter, Kate, informed 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 123 
 
 me, in purer English than I could use, that the road had 
 been lined for many days with armed horsemen, who were 
 hunting me, and that her mother was fearful I would yet 
 be captured, unless I was very careful. Dona Rosa at 
 once set her servants to work to prepare a breakfast for 
 me, and informed me, through her little interpreter, that 
 her husband, the Doctor, had gone to the college farm, at 
 Santa Ines, to attend to some business for the Archbishop, 
 and would not be at home for four or five days. She ex- 
 pressed her fears that it would be unsafe for me to remain 
 there, because, although she could be responsible for her 
 own people, she feared that the old Californian who had 
 eyed me so, and who, she informed me, was from Monterey, 
 would betray me. Her own family consisted of herself 
 and daughter, and a very handsome young lady, whom she 
 introduced to me as her sister, Miss Hill. There were 
 also some twenty to twenty-five farm and house servants 
 about the place, with their children. They were mostly 
 Indians. Dona Rosa told me that there was nothing to 
 be apprehended from any of these, but that the old Cali- 
 fornian suspected who I was, and had just said to her, when 
 she had stepped out a moment before, that she had enough 
 persons about the place to arrest me, if she felt disposed to 
 do so. I agreed with my kind hostess that I ought to leave 
 as soon as possible, and determined, as soon as I had eaten 
 breakfast, which was now ready, to do so. 
 
 At this time I had not shaved for two months; my beard 
 was perfectly white and untrimmed, my clothes in a very 
 dilapidated condition, and altogether I must have presented 
 a most wretched appearance. I suppose I looked, with my 
 long, white beard, at least sixty years old, and what with 
 that and my torn and travel-stained garments, the Vigi- 
 lante description of me, as regarded my age and dirty per- 
 sonal appearance, was not so far out of the way, after all. 
 While I sat enjoying my excellent breakfast and hot coffee. 
 Dona Rosa kept watching me, and giving expression to 
 her sympathy, frequently murmuring to herself, "/ P^sZr^- 
 t7V/5/"and other words of her own language, expressive of 
 her feeling for my misfortunes. Everything that could be 
 done to accommodate me was done by the kind lady. 
 Although it is not, I believe, customary for the native Cali- 
 
124 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 fornians to eat meat at their breakfasts, still an abundance 
 of it was cooked and placed upon the table for me. 1 ob- 
 served that the servants seemed to wonder "what manner 
 of man" I was, to be seated, in that garb, with ladies at the 
 table, and treated with such respect. After breakfast, I 
 asked permission of Doiia Rosa to give a piece of money 
 to her daughter, little Kate, but she nobly replied, that no 
 money was taken in her house for food given to any one, 
 and particularly to the unfortunate. I begged to be per- 
 mitted to give the child a small piece, only to keep as a 
 memento of a forlorn stranger, and, after a great deal of 
 hesitation, Dofia Rosa, merely to please me, consented. 
 Little Kate now brought me writing materials, and I indited 
 the following note to my friend General Covarrubias: — 
 
 My dear Gen'l: — 
 
 Circumstances over which I had no control have forced me to 
 again become a wanderer, "houseless and helpless." I am writing- 
 this from the Doctor's, and will endeavor to be in this vicinity next 
 Sunday. Try to see me. Your friend, 
 
 To General Covarrubias, ^ ^ Juge. 
 
 Santa Bar, 
 Tuesday Morning, 
 
 July 29th, 1856. 
 
 RUBIAS, ^ 
 
 '■bar a City. \ 
 
 Having given this in charge of my hostess, to be deliv- 
 ered to the General by a sure hand, I again prepared to 
 betake myself to the mountains. Doiia Rosa provided 
 me with an extra blanket, a bottle of v\ ater, a beef-tongue, 
 and some bread, and then, bidding me Godspeed, saw me 
 depart from her hospitable door. I at once bent my steps 
 to the caiion back of the dwelling, but had not proceeded 
 far when one of the servants, whom they called Santiago, 
 thinking that I wanted to go to Santa Barbara and had 
 mistaken the road, ran after me to set me right. His mis- 
 tress had seen no necessity of telling him who I was, and, 
 although I of course knew where I was going, in order to 
 avoid exciting his suspicion, I said to \\\m,^' Gracias,'' and 
 came down into the main road, and proceeded along it 
 about a mile and a half, when I came to another canon, 
 and at once followed it up into the mountains. 
 
 The day was very warm, and my journey up the moun- 
 tain extremely fatiguing. I penetrated into the thickets, I 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 125 
 
 should judge, some four or five miles, frequently being 
 obliged to cut my way through the chaparral with my 
 knife. Toward dark I reached a point where, I knew, no 
 horse or mule could ever come, and where I doubt whether 
 any human being had ever been before, and, feeling per- 
 fectly sure that no one would pursue me that far on foot, I 
 resolved there to halt. After drinking all the water that 
 remained in the bottle, I lay me down to sleep. So high 
 was my elevation, that, notwithstanding my blankets, I was 
 for a long time too cold to sleep. At length the fatigues of 
 the day overcame the coldness of the atmosphere, and I 
 fell asleep and did not aw^ake till morning. 
 
 As soon as I had risen, a desire for water reminded me 
 that I had exhausted my supply of that necessary the even- 
 ing before, and my first and only task for the day must be 
 to travel until I found more. Accordingly, I ate nothing, 
 lest it should increase my thirst before I came to water, 
 which might not be for hours, or even the whole day. 
 There was an arroyo that came down from the mountains 
 back of Dr. Den's house, from which his crops were irri- 
 gated. In my desire to avoid arousing the suspicions of 
 the man who followed me from the house, I had foolishly 
 wandered away from this stream, taking it for granted that, 
 as heretofore, I should find no difficulty in getting plenty of 
 water almost anywhere in the mountains. I commenced 
 my search, and continued it for some hours without being 
 able to find a drop, or any signs that might lead me to dig 
 for it. The fatigue of making my way through the cha- 
 parral, and the heat of a July sun, had now increased my 
 thirst till it had become almost insufferable. The thought, 
 too, that I might wander in those mountains, without finding 
 water, until I became lost, and had to lie down and die a 
 death of torture, almost distracted me. I wandered on 
 until, to my horror, I discovered that I had already got 
 turned around and lost my way. I could not tell, from the 
 confused mass of hills around me, which way to go to get 
 out of them. I was hemmed in by a dense thicket of 
 chaparral, and had scarcely strength to extricate myself. 
 I now sat down on my blankets and began to think seri- 
 ously of death. I had no means of knowing whether 
 every step I took was not plunging me deeper into the 
 
126 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 lonely wilds of those vast mountains, and no reason to hope 
 that a journey of days among them, supposing that I could 
 have held out, would have at all bettered my condition. I 
 was indeed in a dreadful strait. I looked imploringly to 
 Heaven for mercy. 1 knew that I had been, at times, a 
 great sinner against the commandments of God, and asked 
 for forgiveness. I could not, however, bring to my mind a sin- 
 gle instance where I had wickedly injured any of my fel- 
 low-creatures, or where I had injured any one at all, 
 except in retaliation for injuries done to me, and I thought 
 my punishment was more than I deserved, if it was the 
 intention of Heaven to let me perish there from the tor- 
 tures of thirst, a lonely maniac, with no eye, save my 
 Maker's, and the beasts and vultures, to look upon my 
 corpse, and no tongue to tell the dreadful story to my fel- 
 low-men. I felt that, though it might be the will of Provi- 
 dence that I should not ultimately escape the toils of my 
 pursuers, my sins had not been so black and many that He 
 should have reserved me for this frightful death, and I took 
 heart. I had a burning fever, and all kinds of wild fan- 
 tasies filled my brain. I thought of the story of Aaron 
 [Moses] smiting the rock in the wilderness for the children of 
 Israel, and actually wondered whether I might not hope 
 for some such miraculous interposition for me. While I 
 sat here too exhausted to move, night came on, and I then 
 discovered, what I did not know before, that thirst is never 
 half so intense at night as it is in the daytime. As the 
 night advanced, although each hour lengthened the time of 
 my privation, still each hour refreshed me. Finally, I fell 
 asleep. When I awoke in the morning, I felt much fresher 
 than when I had halted on the preceding day, but still suf- 
 fering dreadfully from thirst. I at once summoned all my 
 courage, and pressed forward again, whither I knew not, in 
 search of relief. As the sun rose higher, my agony, of 
 course, increased, but, nerved by despair, I pressed on, 
 eagerly looking round me for any sign of water. I thought 
 of the clear, sparkling spring where I had bathed at the 
 Arroyo Hondo, and the aqueduct of the Mission of Santa 
 Barbara, and a dozen places where 1 had seen water clear- 
 est and coldest and freshest, and I thought the vision would 
 madden me. At length, after walking an hour or two, just 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 127 
 
 as I had become convinced that I could hold out under the 
 increasing heat but a little while longer, I espied some 
 leaves on the side of a rock, which looked damp. I put 
 my hands on them, and, to my unspeakable joy, I discovered 
 that they were quite wet. I knew there must be v^^ater 
 near them, and tried to trace them up to the source, but 
 they became dry again, only a little way up the rock, and I 
 commenced to dig with my knife among them. At first I 
 could not discover where the water was weeping from. After 
 a little while, however, I discovered a small aperture in the 
 rock, shaped something like a bake-oven. The rock was 
 very soft, being decomposed, and I could work on it almost 
 as easily as clay. I dug away at it, and presently drops of 
 water began to fall out of it into a little basin at the bot- 
 tom of the oven. This basin I cleaned out so that it would 
 hold more, and, after working at it more than an hour, I 
 was enabled, by inserting a reed, which I cut for the pur- 
 pose, into the basin, to suck up a few drops of water. I 
 think I must have drank all that fell into the basin for an 
 hour and a half before I quenched my thirst. I then ate 
 heartily of my bread and beef-tongue, for I was very hun- 
 gry, having abstained from eating lest it should increase 
 my thirst. When night came, I made a soft, comfortable 
 bed by spreading my blanket on the leaves, and, throwing 
 myself upon it, I fervently thanked God for his kindness to 
 me in my wretchedness, and enjoyed a sweet and untrou- 
 bled sleep until morning. When I awoke, I found that my 
 labor of yesterday had been rewarded by a beautiful little 
 spring, which, during the night, had become full of clear, 
 cold water. I took a delicious draft of it, and then 
 washed myself, and sat down to eat the slim remnants of 
 my beef-tongue and bread. I now bethought me that a 
 desperate attempt must be made to get out of the moun- 
 tains, otherwise, my provisions being exhausted, I should 
 have only escaped death by thirst to perish by starvation. 
 
 Accordingly, I cut two long, slim poles with my knife, 
 and, tying them across each other firmly with a piece of my 
 handkerchief, I made a cross, and hung it on a small, leafless 
 tree that stood near the spot, so that, in the event any 
 other poor, hunted fugitive should find himself lost and 
 dying in those mountains, he might see, by the cross, that 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 129 
 
 some one had been there, and find the water. I well knew 
 that none but the persecuted and pursued would ever have 
 business in those grim solitudes. I cut the initials of my 
 name on the tree on which I had hung the cross, christen- 
 ed the place "St. Peter's Spring," and commenced my 
 doubtful attempt to get out of the mountain. After partly 
 walking and partly crawling on my hands and knees through 
 the chaparral for nearly two hours, I heard a distant 
 sound like the falling of water. I immediately turned in 
 the direction from vv'hich the sound came, and in about 
 twenty minutes more, during which I was continually de- 
 scending into a caiion, I came to a large mountain stream. 
 1 looked up it, and the scene was very picturesque. It 
 came roaring and dashing on for some distance above me, 
 between two bold and rugged walls of rock, leaping from 
 crag to crag in a succession of beautiful cascades, keeping 
 continually wet with their glittering spray the leaves of the 
 bushes that overhung them. My heart bounded sympa- 
 thetically with the glad rush of the free waters, and with a 
 heart elated with hope I followed the course of the stream, 
 knowing full well that it must lead me to the valley. I 
 began to suspect that this must be the arroyo that irrigated 
 Doctor Den's estate, and the same from which I had fool- 
 ishly wandered the previous morning. 
 
 It was very hot v^^eather, and as I walked along in the 
 stream, supporting myself on the slippery rocks by means 
 of a pole, I felt very much refreshed. I frequently drank 
 of the water, and toward noon I stopped and took a delight- 
 ful bath. I here caught a little turtle, w^hich I killed, and 
 found eggs in it. These I ate, and relished them exceed- 
 ingly. I kept the meat, thinking that perhaps I might 
 want it. At length I came to a little clear place on the 
 bank of the stream, and observed a narrov^ trail leading 
 out of the brushwood down to the water. I at first thought 
 that this trail was made by the cattle coming to the v^^ater 
 to drink. In this I was mistaken, as there are no cattle in 
 those mountains. 
 
 It was toward sundown, and I stopped here to rest for 
 the night. I soon discovered what had made the trail. 
 Hearing a rustling in the bushes, I looked up, and on the 
 other side of the stream I saw a beautiful deer. It was 
 
 *F 
 
130 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 looking at me, and occasionally it would stand up on its 
 hind legs, and then paw the earth with its little flinty hoof, 
 like an impatient racer. I was not thirty yards from it, 
 and it remained in the same spot nearly twenty minutes. 
 I had seen plenty of deer before, in my wanderings, for that 
 section of the state abounds in them, but they had always 
 fled at the sight of me. This one had probably never seen 
 a human being before. It seemed to pity me. Its intelli- 
 gent, bright eye seemed to say to me that it knew from my 
 wretched and weary appearance that I had neither the 
 heart nor the power to harm it. I would not have harmed 
 a hair of its body for the world. It was a comfort to me to 
 look into its face and fancy that I could there read sym- 
 pathy for my distress, and when, at length, it turned lightly 
 away and vanished in the bushes, I felt as though I had 
 lost a companion. Shortly after my forest visitor had gone, 
 1 spread my blankets, and, stretching my weary limbs upon 
 them, I was soon wrapped in a deep sleep. 
 
 The next day, Friday, the first of August, I was awake 
 betimes, and continued my journey down the stream. I 
 had not proceeded far before I became convinced that my 
 conjecture as to this being the arroyo that ran through 
 Dr. Den's farm, was correct. I saw the residence of my 
 friend, and once more felt that I was restored to communi- 
 cation with my species. I did not go near the house, not 
 knowing who might be about the premises, but crept stealth- 
 ily down to the seashore and gathered a quantity of mus- 
 sels, which I put into rny shirt and carried back to the 
 mountains. I also stopped and got over the fence into the 
 Doctor's garden and pulled up some potatoes, which I car- 
 ried with me, thinking that I might by some chance get fire 
 and cook them. In the hurry of my departure, I had for- 
 gotten to ask Doiia Rosa for some matches. On my 
 return to the mountain, I laid down my load by the side of 
 the stream and prepared to make my breakfast. I had 
 heard of the Indians making fire by rubbing two dry sticks 
 together, and I tried the experiment. I labored at it about 
 two hours, but was at length obliged to give it up without 
 succeeding. I afterwards learned from one of Dr. Den's 
 servants how to do it, but it was at a time when I did not 
 need the knowledge, and it availed me nothing. He had 
 
132 Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 two sticks, one round and the other flat. In the end of the 
 flat one a hole was bored exactly to fit the diameter of the 
 round one. Into this hole he inserted one end of the round 
 stick, and then rolled it back and forth between his hands 
 until the friction produced fire. The sticks have to be of 
 a peculiar kind of wood, which he pointed out to me. I 
 tried the experiment, and succeeded. 
 
 I contented myself with breakfasting upon the mussels 
 raw, and enjoyed them pretty well. The tide not being far 
 enough out when I visited the shore, I had not been able 
 to gather many of them, and ate all that I had for break- 
 fast. Toward the middle of the day, I again felt hungry, 
 and resolved to try the raw turtle-meat, which I had put 
 into the stream, in my shirt, to keep it fresh. I found, how- 
 ever, that it was too unpalatable. I was not quite hungry 
 enough to get it down. Knowing, however, that if it once 
 got into my stomach, it would be nutritious and strengthen- 
 ing to me, I tried an experiment, which succeeded. I peeled 
 one of the potatoes, and then scraped it all away with my 
 knife. These scrapings I mixed with water, and made of 
 them little balls, into which I put small pieces ^of the 
 meat, and thus swallowed it v\nthout any unpleasant 
 taste. In this way I managed to eat a raw potato and 
 the turtle. 
 
 I laid down supperless that night, determined to get to 
 the beach the next morning earlier, in order to be there at 
 low tide, when the mussels were more plenty. Accordingly, 
 before it was quite light, I again started to the beach, and 
 this time secured a bountiful supply. I returned, and, after 
 breakfasting heartily, had plenty of them left for dinner. 
 I was beginning, however, to get very tired of them. They 
 were exceedingly bitter, and, besides, acted on my system 
 as purgatives. They did me one good service, however: 
 they contributed to relieve me of my obesity. Several of 
 my fat friends have told me, since my return, that they 
 would willingly go through my pilgrimage to be relieved 
 of their surplus flesh. I trust they may never have occa- 
 sion to know how dreadful a remedy they are willing to try. 
 I would not again go through with the miseries of that 
 hunt to escape from all the bloodhounds that San Fran- 
 cisco could put upon my track. I would far rather turn 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 133 
 
 and die at bay. Indeed, I very much doubt whether many 
 men, accustomed to ease and luxury, could endure the pri- 
 vation and suffering to which I was subjected. No man 
 knows, however, what he can do until he tries. To a stout 
 and resolute heart there is no such word as "fail." 
 
 I remained in the mountains until the next morning, 
 Sunday, the third of August, when I again descended to 
 the seaside for my usual supply of mussels, and returned 
 to eat them. I began to think now that it was almost time 
 to hear something from my friends at Santa Barbara, 
 unless my letter to Gen. Covarrubias had miscarried. Ac- 
 cordingly, after my breakfast I again descended, and 
 cautiously approached the Doctor's garden. Before I 
 reached it, I saw a man coming up the caiion, leading a 
 horse. He was a Californian, and one whom I had never 
 seen before. I also heard the voice of some one singing. 
 I immediately retraced my steps and concealed myself. I 
 did not again venture to approach the Doctor's house in 
 that direction, but remained most of the day in the moun- 
 tains, making my way northward so as to come down into 
 the road above the ranch, toward San Luis Obispo, 
 thinking it much safer than to enter it between the Doctor's 
 and Santa Barbara. After cautiously reconnoitering, 1 
 went over the point of a low hill just ahead of me, and 
 stepped down into the road. I had not more than reached 
 it before a Spaniard came directly upon me from the 
 direction of the house, and, appearing to know all about me, 
 at once gave me to understand that Gen. Covarrubias was 
 at the house, and desired me to come quickly. I went 
 with him at once, and, on reaching the garden, I was met 
 by the Doctor, his wife, little Kate, Gen. Covarrubias, and 
 eight or ten servants. The Doctor, at once seizing me by 
 the hand, and exclaiming, "It is no time to talk," hurried 
 me through the garden and into the house. Just as we 
 entered it, the Doctor pointed through an open window to 
 five armed men who were riding along the road to Santa 
 Barbara, coming, apparently, from the Arroyo Hondo. 
 
 There they go, ' ' he exclaimed ; "the rat-catchers ! They 
 dare not search my house." I had a fair view of the mis- 
 erable wretches as they galloped by, and as I looked after 
 them I pitied them, — yes, actually pitied them. For who 
 
134 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 can fall so low, and be so just an obje6l of pity, as the 
 human being who can pursue a fellow-man, by whom he 
 was never wronged, y^r /n?'e F 
 
 The Doctor explained to me, that he had returned from 
 Santa Incs three days after I had left his house; that his 
 wife had kept my note until his return, preferring to send 
 it by his hand to General Covarrubias. As soon as he had 
 read it, he at once ordered his carriage, and, taking his 
 lady with him to avoid suspicion, proceeded to Santa 
 Barbara and found the General. While there, he dis- 
 covered that a party, under the lead of the White Pig 
 (Blake), was preparing to go to the Arroyo Hondo, with 
 great hopes of taking me. They arrived, as he had 
 learned, at the Arroyo on Saturday, the second of August. 
 Besides Blake, the party consisted of a deputy sheriff who 
 had a warrant for my arrest, a Scotch blacksmith, and two 
 others. They were all armed with guns and revolvers. 
 
 On arriving at the house, they asked the sefiora a great 
 many questions about me, but she, poor soul, who was now 
 really ignorant of my whereabouts, told them she did not 
 know where I had gone. Although she this time^ spoke 
 the truth, they did not credit her, and forthwith searched 
 the house and old Konoya' s hut, and then, leaving at the 
 house the bloody-minded son of Vulcan with his great six- 
 shooter and double-barreled shotgun to prevent the 
 woman or her children from giving me warning in case I 
 was lurking about the premises, the other four beat the 
 bushes about the mountains for some hours. Meeting, 
 however, with no success, they returned to the house, and, 
 the next morning, Sunday, returned disappointed and crest- 
 fallen to Santa Barbara. These were the five worthies 
 whom Dr. Den pointed out to me from his house as they 
 were returning from their fruitless search. 
 
 General Covarrubias then entered and embraced me. 
 He and his son Onesimo, and a few of Dr. Den's people, 
 had been searching the mountains high and low with pro- 
 visions for me, and would have given me up for dead but 
 that a California woman named Maria Jesus, who lived 
 with her husband in the garden, had seen me go to the 
 beach for mussels on Friday. He told me he had been 
 roaming through the mountains, singing, "Covarrubias, 
 
NatTative of Edward McGowan 135 
 
 Covarrubias ! No Instructions ! "* in order to attract my 
 attention and let me know who and where he was. I told 
 him I had heard the singing, and explained to him that I 
 did not recognize his words or his voice, and therefore did 
 not reply. The Doctor brought out some fine English ale, 
 and I consumed three small bottles of it before I quenched 
 my thirst. It was the first thing in the shape of stimulus 
 I had tasted for many days, and, after the fatigues I had 
 lately gone through, it revived me wonderfully. 
 
 In the mean while Dona Rosa set her servants to work 
 preparing me a nice chicken, and then invited me to come 
 into the parlor and seat myself by her on the sofa. She 
 kept gazing at me, wretched and forlorn as I was, and 
 murmuring ^'' IPobre viejo ! ' ' etc. 
 
 I felt that I must have cut but a sorry figure in my 
 ragged clothes, and, but for the heartfelt kindness with 
 which I was treated, and which placed me quite at my 
 ease, I should have felt very awkward at finding myself in 
 such a condition in the presence of ladies. 
 
 After enjoying a fine supper and passing a delightful 
 evening with that good and deservedly happy family, about 
 nine o'clock it was thought advisable for me to leave the 
 house. Dona Rosa provided me with a pillow and some 
 blankets, and then, accompanied by the General, the Doc- 
 tor, and a few of his people, I entered a corn-field adjacent 
 
 * In order that the reader may understand the meaning- of his song-, 
 it is necessary to relate an anecdote which is familiar to many of the 
 politicians of the state. In the convention which nominated Gover- 
 nor Bigler for his second gubernatorial term, General Covarrubias and 
 Don Pedro Carrillo, now surveyor of the port of Santa Barbara, 
 were delegates. I also was a member. Don Pedro was of opiniqn 
 that he and his colleague had been instructed by the Democracy of 
 Santa Barbara to vote against John Bigler for governor. The Gen- 
 eral thought differently, and when Santa Barbara was called, Don 
 Pedro immediately sprang- to his feet and informed the convention 
 that his colleague was voting against the instructions of his constit- 
 uents. To which the General immediately replied, in broken Eng- 
 lish, "Mr. Chairman, no instructions for Covarrubias ! People have 
 confidence in him. They instruct Carrillo." This threw the con- 
 vention into a laugh, and completely turned the tables on Don Pedro. 
 The story got abroad, and the General was afterwards known among; 
 politicians as "No Instructions." Knowing that I would recognize 
 the words, he adopted them as the burden of his song. 
 
136 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 to the house, and in the center of it made my camp. Tliis 
 was destined to be my hiding-place for six weeks. The 
 Doctor gave directions to the woman Mai'ia Jesus and her 
 husband, who hved in the garden, to watch over me and 
 provide me with food until further orders. He then gave 
 me a double-barreled gun, and told me that in the morn- 
 ing he would go to town and make arrangements to 
 thwart, if possible, the getting up of any further expeditions 
 against me, or, at any rate, get the earliest intimation of 
 them from his friends. He cautioned me against letting 
 any one see me but those who belonged to his own rancho, 
 and assured me I need have no apprehensions as to their 
 fidelity and discretion. He and the General then bid me 
 good night and left me. When they had gone, I laid down 
 on my blankets and felt happy. I poured out my spirit in 
 thankfulness to Heaven, that I had, after wandering for 
 thirty days through the wilds of Santa Barbara, unshel- 
 tered and unfriended, save by strangers, whose good feeling 
 to me had been rendered useless by treachery, at length 
 found a haven of rest, and a protector and friend on whom 
 I knew I could rely. I fell into a sound and untroubled 
 sleep, for I knew that I was guarded by the honor of a 
 hospitable gentleman. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 The truly brave. 
 When they behold their kind oppressed with odds. 
 Are touch'd with a desire to shield and save. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 When I awoke on the morning of the fourth of August, 
 the sun was some hours high. My frequent potations of 
 the Doctor's ale on the previous evening, together with an 
 unaccustomed sense of security, had made my sleep more 
 than usually sound. I found one of the Doctor's servants, 
 Santiago, the husband of Maria Jesiis^ who lived in the 
 garden, standing by me with a good breakfast and some hot 
 coffee. He informed me as well as he could that Don 
 Nicholas, as he called the Doctor, and General Covarrubias 
 had started early for the city. I had a slight headache 
 when I awoke, but a drop of good brandy before breakfast, 
 and the hot coffee, made me all right. I found my place 
 of refuge very comfortable. The corn was so tall, that I 
 was continually shaded from the sun, except at midday, 
 when I made myself an awning by fastening the corners of 
 a sheet to four stout corn-stalks. I had cleared out a place 
 sufficiently large to enable me to move about comfortably, 
 and, all things considered, I was very snugly lodged. 
 
 During the day, I was visited by Maria Jesus, accompa- 
 nied by the Doctor's little son, Alfonso. He was a bright- 
 eyed, curly-headed little fellow of about three years of age. 
 The Californian who had notified me the day before that 
 General Covarrubias was waiting to see me at the house, 
 [10] 137 
 
138 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 also paid me a visit. Of course we made but a poor 
 attempt at conversation, neither of us speaking the other's 
 language. I ascertained, however, that he was the mayo?'- 
 domo of the establishment, and that his name was Juan. 
 I made him understand that I would christen him Juan de 
 Dios (John of God), inasmuch as he was the one who had 
 informed me that friends awaited me at the house, where 
 I had arrived at such a timely moment. The name pleased 
 him very much, and he and I were warm friends during 
 my entire stay on his hospitable master's premises. In 
 the evening, I came out of the corn-field and visited San- 
 tiago's little willow house in the garden. Here I made 
 the acquaintance of Jacobo, the cook for the casa grande^ as 
 they called the family dwelling, and his wife, Refugla. As 
 it appeared to be the general rendezvous of the servants 
 and laborers after working-hours, I met with quite a num- 
 ber of them. It was a great desideratum with me to put 
 myself on as friendly a footing as possible with these peo- 
 ple, on whose discretion my life was to depend during my 
 sojourn with their kind-hearted master, and, accordingly, I 
 made the acquaintance of all of them, particularly inform- 
 ing myself of their various names and occupations, and 
 evincing as well as I could, in my ignorance of their lan- 
 guage, a sympathy with them in all their little matters, 
 and gratitude for their kindness in keeping my secret. Be- 
 sides Jacobo and his wife, I made the acquaintance of his 
 brother-in-law, also named Santiago, who was about twenty 
 years of age, and a farm-servant; also of Pedro, an old In- 
 dian who worked in the garden. Among the females, there 
 were Maria los Angeles, a kind of lady's maid to Doiia 
 Rosa; Nicolosa, an Indian girl about twelve years old, 
 whose duty it was to attend the Doctor's youngest child, 
 yet an infant; and Si/nona, an Indian woman who washed 
 for the household. There were many others about the 
 place, with their children, mostly Indians, whose names I 
 cannot remember. They appeared very much pleased 
 with the apparent interest I took in them, and vve became 
 warm friends. They were all faithful and discreet to the 
 last, and when they ascertained that I was a Roman Catho- 
 lic, in which faith they had, of course, been reared, I doubt 
 whether all the gold in California's mines could have in- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 139 
 
 duced one of them to betray me. They used to say, in 
 speaking of me, Paisano es buem Catolico. Would that 
 I were ! I will here remark, that, during my sojourn at 
 Doctor Den' s, among the books which he loaned me where- 
 with to beguile the time, were some on the religion to 
 w^hich I had been brought up, which I conned over with 
 great interest, and became more thoroughly convinced than 
 ever I supposed I would be of the efficacy of religion, and 
 especially that of the Church of Rome. 
 
 Before I returned to my bed in the corn-field that night, 
 1 observed a white man, a hired laborer of the Doctor's, 
 and, being fearful of him, I kept out of his sight, not know- 
 ing but that it might be unsafe to trust to his discretion. I 
 afterwards learned, however, that he was a Prussian, named 
 Frederick Staurer. He was a very intelligent and well- 
 educated man. He had formerly been a professor of mu- 
 sic, but, becoming reduced, was now working for his liveli- 
 hood as a day-laborer. He spoke English very well, and, 
 after I became acquainted with him, his companionship 
 was very agreeable to me during my long and somewhat 
 monotonous sojourn in the corn-field. Nothing of interest 
 occurred during my first week in my new hiding-place. 
 Almost all of the people of the ranch visited me, to each 
 of whom I presented a small piece of money, and in a few 
 days my mind became perfectly easy as to their fidelity. 
 The Doctor remained the entire week in the city, and I 
 lost the pleasure of his occasional company. Dona Rosa, 
 however, sent me, every day, a bottle of claret or ale, and 
 I lived more luxuriously than I had done since my depart- 
 ure from San Francisco. 
 
 On Sunday, Dona Rosa, accompanied by her sweet 
 little children, paid me a visit, and inquired, through little 
 Kate, after my health and comfort. The Doctor did not 
 accompany her, for, when absent in the city of a Sunday, 
 he never returned till evening, always waiting to attend 
 church. I replied to the kind lady, that I was very com- 
 fortable, and after a very agreeable visit she returned to 
 the house. That evening the Doctor returned, and came 
 out to the corn-field to see me. I learned from him that 
 the hunt after me appeared to be rather flagging. None 
 of the San Francisco Vigilantes were in Santa Barbara, 
 
140 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 nor had he heard of their being in the vicinity. Jack 
 Power had started off in as suspicious a manner as he 
 could, in company with an old Spaniard disguised as me, 
 taking the road to Los Angeles, and had been hotly pur- 
 sued by the dauntless and zealous Curtis and Gough, and 
 eight or ten lunch-eaters. The Doctor brought me a two 
 weeks' file of the San Francisco Herald, besides a number 
 of other papers, and I was abundantly supplied with the 
 news. I here learned of another surmise as to my where- 
 abouts. They had doubtless come to the conclusion, at San 
 Francisco, that I could not possibly be in the state and 
 have escaped my indefatigable pursuers, and, on looking 
 round for some other place to locate me, had lit upon my 
 native city.* I also had the pleasure of reading, in the 
 San Diego Herald of the twenty-sixth of July, the follow- 
 ing flattering notice of my movements, from the pen of my 
 
 * Ned McGovvan. — It is stated that letters have been received in 
 this city, from Phihidelphia, stating- that Ned McGowan was at his 
 own house in that city. Such a report may prove correct. — Touun 
 Talk, July 31st. 
 
 Another McGowan in the Field. — This wonderful genius, 
 this " Jack-o'-the-lantern" politician with the white hat, tliis apt)cry- 
 phal hero of the Jack Ketch Committee, has again made his appear- 
 ance upon the stage, lifted his white beaver, and exclaimed, " Here I 
 am, Mr. Merryman." As a traveler, he has thrown Humboldt and 
 Mungo Park entirely into the shade. At one time we hear of him 
 enjoying the laborious acting of " that eminent American tragedian" 
 at the Metropolitan, and in the same breath he arrives in Santa Bar- 
 bara, is recognized, retires into the tules, has a magnificent reward 
 offered for him, is pursued by an enthusiastic deputation of the One- 
 Eyed Committee, who return in disgust — when, presto! change, the 
 Hon. Judge Edward McGowan has arrived in the City of Brotherly 
 Love, and is quietly installed in his family mansion. If Shakespeare 
 lived in the nineteenth century, McGowan would be his beau ideal of 
 an Ariel. When Eugene Sue writes another" Wandering Jew, "the 
 ex-Commissioner of Emigrants will be his model. McGowan is a 
 remarkable man; he has made his mark on the dial-plate of time, 
 and, whether the Committee have the hanging- of him or not by way 
 of dessert in the banquet of horrors they are now feasting on, the 
 name of the Knight of the White Hat will be a prolific theme for 
 the future pen of the historian. 
 
 P. S. — Since writing- the above, we have just heard the rumor 
 that a telegraphic dispatch has been received from the Feegee Islands, 
 announcing the arrival of the Hon. Edward McGowan. Outere — ■ 
 Where is Ned McGowan ? — Sdii Francisco Herald, July 31st. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 141 
 
 soi-disant friend, J. Judson Ames, Esq., publisher of 
 that sheet : — 
 
 Gossip about Ned McGowan. — This notorious individual is 
 probably by this time in the state of Sonora. He was seen at Ca- 
 riso Creek, on the desert, in the early part of this week, by the ex- 
 press-rider from Camp Yuma, who conversed with him, and by 
 whom Ned sent his respects to Major Harvey, telling him that Col. 
 Baker had arrived thus far safe, if an opportunitj' should offer of 
 forwarding the message. He stated that he was going to Sonora. 
 The expressman sa^^s that Ned had "a very poor horse, but some 
 mighty good brandy! " If they know at Camp Yuma that he has 
 been indicted in San Francisco, there is some chance that the ballot- 
 box stuffer may yet swing at the end of a hempen cord. 
 
 This fellow, after penning the above, had the impudence 
 to approach me in Sacramento (since my unexpected re- 
 turn) and extend both of his hands, expressing his most 
 heartfelt delight at seeing me once more safe and in good 
 health. My reply to him on that occasion is not at all per- 
 tinent to this narrative, but I desire that he will call it to 
 mind, and then be assured that it was mild and gentle in 
 comparison with the sketch of his history, dating from the 
 days of President Tyler to the present hour, which I have 
 promised myself the pleasure of drawing at some future 
 time. When I open my proposed portrait-gallery of the 
 most distinguished of our ''''Purest and Best," he may feel 
 assured that, on looking around the walls, he will not miss 
 his own intelligent countenance. 
 
 After Dr. Den had returned to the house, I laid down 
 on my pallet and thought over an idea that had suggested 
 itself to me on reading the San Diego paper. Since the 
 belief was general that I was in Sonora, why might I not 
 confirm it by writing to San Francisco a letter dated on 
 the plains near Sonora, and thus slacken the hunt after me 
 where I was.^* There was some danger of the letter, in 
 case of miscarriage, affording a clew to my whereabouts, 
 but I thought if I could but get a trusty messenger who 
 would either destroy or deliver the letter safely, I might 
 benefit myself by writing it. After thinking it over pro 
 and con, I determined to say nothing about it to any one, 
 and in the morning to do it, and then fell asleep. 
 
 After breakfast the following morning, I requested San- 
 
142 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 tiago to get me from the house some writing materials. 
 He went after them, but returned to say to me that there 
 was no ink, except a little dried up in the bottle, and very 
 little paper. I then sent him to town to purchase me what 
 I wanted, and added to my list a bottle of whisky. In a 
 few hours he returned with everything except the ink. He 
 had broken the bottle which contained it on the road. 1 
 had nothing for it then but to mix some gunpowder v^^ith 
 water, and having thus manufactured a tolerably good sub- 
 stitute for ink, I indited the following epistle to John Nu- 
 gent, Esq. , editor of the San Francisco Herald, and a fort- 
 night afterward had the pleasure of reading it in his paper 
 in the following form : — 
 
 LETTER FROM NED McGOWAN. 
 
 The Political Mountain of the Nineteenth Century Speaks to the Sea — 
 The White Hat ''''Turns Up'' ^ Again — Remarkable AJuentures of a 
 Political Philosopher of the Modern School, Pursued by Puritanical 
 Bloodhounds. 
 
 We have the pleasure of laying- before our readers this morning- one 
 of the most remarkable documents in the history of literature.-* It was 
 a mooted point for some time, and even is to this late day, who was 
 the author of the Junius papers; very few men have ever been able 
 to make up their minds in locating the identical individual that struck 
 Billy Patterson, Esq. 5 whole demijohns of ink have been shed in 
 proving we had a Bourbon among- us; and a small invoice was wast- 
 ed in discussing the fact as to whether saltpeter would or would not 
 explode. The "Mark Meddle" press in the hireling pay of the Saints 
 have chased the ubiquitous Napoleon of primary elections from pillar 
 to whipping-post, — they have had him comfortably corraled every- 
 where throughout the geographical limits of this extended area of 
 freedom, except in their own clutches, — and at last the "old joker" 
 turns up, and pleasantly and convivially speaks of his "hairbreadth 
 'scapes" as coolly as if he was on his old stamping-ground — Mont- 
 goinery Street — and had an admiring audience of drinking friends, 
 hoisting in his original and peculiar fund of small talk. 
 
 The remarkable correspondence which follows is written in gim- 
 powder and water, the old fellow not having a bottle of " Maynard & 
 Noyes" handy, but our readers may rest assured it is a genuine pro- 
 duction; and if any person having a knowledge of the learned Judge's 
 handwriting is inquisitive enough to doubt, he can be accommodated 
 with a sight of the McGowan autograph by calling at this office. 
 
 State of California, August 8, 1856. 
 Editor of the San Francisco Herald: — I desire to reply to 
 a query in the Herald, dated about the 1st of July, in which the writ- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 143 
 
 er, after indulging in a pleasant bit of satire at the expense of the 
 ' ' Sour Flour and Salt Pork Committee, ' ' in reference to their juvenile 
 attempts at capturing that "old patent back-acting politician" with 
 the immortal white hat, asks the very pertinent question, "Where is 
 Ned McGowan?" In the words of the immortal Squibob and the 
 somewhat well-known Mr. Webster of Marshfield, "I still live! "and 
 claim the reward for my bodj^ (^vhen they catch me ! ). Upon mature 
 reflection, I do not think I came so near drinking at "death's foun- 
 tain "as the godlike Daniel did when he gave utterance to his cele- 
 brated and classical remark above quoted, although, for the past few 
 months, I have played the "game of life" very "low down," but 
 have always kept the deck in my own hands. I will not say I have 
 stocked the cards on the "purest and best," or that I have held more 
 than four aces in my sleeves at any one time, but in this last deal my 
 native talent has been brought out in bold relief, and by a little dex- 
 terous shuffling of the papers I have thus far managed to win every 
 trick. I acknowledge it was a very tight game at Santa Barbara, — 
 six and six on the last game, and I turned up Jack, — mighty good pun, 
 if understood. If the Vigilance Committee are still holding on in 
 the expectation of catching me, they might as well disband, for it is 
 not in the cards, and I think they are themselves pretty well satisfied 
 of that, for they have expended time and money enough in the experi- 
 ment. I have, at last, thank God, a deal of good luck, and, being a 
 Catholic (bad a one as I am), I am safely arrived at the "other side 
 of Jordan," and a hard road to travel it was, you had better believe. 
 
 On some future occasion, when I have more time and facility for 
 writing, it will afford me the most eminent satisfaction to give you a 
 faithful daguerreotype of my "will-o'-the-wisp" existence in the 
 city of "higher law "previous to my departure for a more congenial 
 clime. It will be one of the most delightful romances ever written. 
 Truth is stranger than fiction; and when I deem it expedient to "let 
 the cat out of the bag," what a field there will be for an American 
 Dickens; and when the pious Committee are posted in regard to 
 some of those who were the most instrumental in my salvation from 
 undergoing an ordeal of their "celebrated breakneck act," what a 
 rattling there will be among the dry bones of some of their own mem- 
 bers. I think I "know a hawk from a hand-saw, " and it never for 
 one moment entered my head to form a source of amusement for the 
 Sacramento Street gentlemen. I am easily pleased, and am perfectly 
 willing to die in bed, although I sympathize heartily with the blood- 
 thirsty Committee in their mortifying and defeated efforts to elevate 
 me to "a high position." 
 
 After some wandering, I entered the county of Santa Barbara on 
 the third day of July, and if I were to tell you what I accomplished 
 up to the time I left, — how many narrow and hairbreadth escapes I 
 had, — ^you would scarcely credit it, but set it down as an imagination 
 drawn from the fertile brain of some Munchausen romance. Whilst 
 my horse is feeding, and the person who has promised to mail this for 
 me waits, I will write, and am actually writing, with gunpo^vder mixed 
 n.vith ^vater. Necessity is truly the mother of invention, (although I 
 can't think just now who the father of it was, ) and the law of it com- 
 
144 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 pelled me to stretch my genius to its utmost. On the one hand, I 
 saw death staring- me in the face, to be perpetrated by the hands of 
 hired assassins sent to take me, dead or alive (certainly not alive); 
 on the other hand, I had the triumphant thoug^ht of one day setting 
 myself right before the world, and repelling the assaults made by 
 these fiends in human form who have so savagely persecuted me, 
 and of having the satisfaction of showing who some of the "best and 
 purest citizens" are, or were originally, who have hunted me "blood- 
 hound" like, even in this section of the country, almost to the death; 
 but, thank God, I have so far escaped them. The knowledge of what 
 I have already gone through in this unholy crusade against me has 
 almost nerved me into a second youthful manhood, and added much 
 vigor to my declining strength, and endows me with patience to endure 
 suffering which, under any other circumstances, I would have shrunk 
 from as a task being too difficult for one who had lived a life of 
 luxurious ease for the past twenty years. No one knows how much 
 he can perform till driven to it. There is 7io such ^vorci as^fail." ' The 
 remembrance of a quotation from Lord Byron's Mazeppa,^ 
 
 For time at last sets all tilings even; 
 
 And if we do but watch the hour, 
 
 Tiiere never yet was human power 
 Which could evade, if unforgiven. 
 The patient search and vigil long 
 Of him who treasures up a wrong, — 
 
 has been of great consolation to me, and I do hope that it may be 
 verified in my case, for I certainly treasure up a great wrong, and the 
 thoughts of some day getting "even" was that which gave me 
 strength to walk many, many miles in the mountains, with blistered 
 and bleeding feet, almost without shoes, and nearly worn out, body 
 and soul; to sleep among the rocks, without blanket or other cover- 
 ing, or flannel, o' cold nights (I threw away my flannel the first day, 
 it was so excessively hot); and to crawl out of the mountains before 
 daylight to the sea-beach to dig mussels from the rocks for my break- 
 fast, and always after breakfast dining next day. I did have dinner 
 one day, — I foimd a small turtle in a mountain-stream, and I ate it 
 raw, and it really tasted almost as good as that I used to eat at Ned's, 
 so deliciously served up. The mussels certainly tasted better than 
 any I had ever eaten at the Nightingale, although they were always 
 washed down with champagne. For several weeks the county of Santa 
 Barbara, and two or three adjoining counties, and even along the 
 Colorado, was filled with these lunch-eaters, or five-dollars-a-day 
 men, hired to assassinate, under the command of Capt. T. D. Johns. 
 Some of them were armed with guns, and all of them with six-shoot- 
 ers, over twenty-five in all; brave fellows, and each man determined 
 to make a hero of himself by catching or killing one poor old man, 
 who they themselves denominate, in their handbills, as being fifty years 
 of age. Now, that 's a little too bad, — that 's almost as bad as Pat 
 Hull's likeness of me, — they have got the figures too high \^y ten years. 
 I would sooner be shot than be that old. If I live to be that old, I 
 will get more than "even." It was curious, and sometimes even laugh- 
 able, how I dodged them. On the eventful sixth of July, I was rolled 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 145 
 
 up in forty yards of carpeting-, which, from the smell, I thought was 
 used as a flea-hive on the "Beau Hickman" plan, for it contained, 
 at a roug-h guess, — I did not count them, — ten thousand fleas, one hun- 
 dred and eig-hty-two pounds of what I at that time thought was flesh 
 and blood, and all around the city the tules on fire, trying to burn me 
 out. This was truly a delightful situation for a gentleman to be 
 placed in, a hot July afternoon in Santa Barbara, with no chance to 
 get a drink for more than three hours. There was no necessity for 
 my wishing, as some one did in a Shakespeare reading on Gov. Bigler, 
 "O, that this too too solid flesh would melt" 5 mine was actually run- 
 ning away from me like melting lard. I only, at this writing, weigh 
 one hundred and forty pounds, but now I kno^v it is flesh. 
 
 At another time, a fellow with red whiskers and large eyes, with 
 shot-gun (double-barrel) and six-shooter, and a keeper of the light- 
 house, called "Mitch," also with six-shooter, searched a ranch sans 
 ceri'monie, and then the Indian huts in the vicinity. I had just left to 
 wash myself, preparatory to taking breakfast, when a woman, the 
 lady of the house, who knew my secret, sent her son to tell me to 
 "vamos," while her husband kept them in conversation a few mo- 
 ments. These people were poor and had a large family of children, 
 and these braves — a part of C aptain T. D. I pjms' gang who came 
 down in the schooner — offered Pedro's wife $3,000 if they could find 
 me or tell where I was. Pedro spoke English, and the fellow from 
 the lighthouse Spanish; but their ofi^er was of no avail: they had 
 promised to keep my secret, and they faithfully kept their word. Sub- 
 sequently, the fellow who was watching the ranch saw one of the 
 boys carry me food in the mountains, and gave information to a 
 busybody in Santa Barbara, acting blood-hunter for his San Fran- 
 cisco brethren, called by the native Californians "Co<r//z Gtiero,'''' 
 which, translated, means "White Pig," for he is constantly meddling 
 with and poking his nose into other people's business. This chap 
 was originally a runner in Santa Barbara, but, having married into a 
 very respectable native family, he has now the should-be honorable 
 title of "merchant," and he, no doubt, is, big a loafer as he is consid- 
 ered at home, equally as honorable and distinguished as many of his 
 cotemporaries residing in San Francisco. Well, the "White Pig" 
 was a made man; he was sure to take me; he had a dead thing; 
 told every one he met, but he told them confidentially, and he ex- 
 plained in the presence of Judge Fernald, "Won't my name go up 
 when I capture him ! " The Judge, who is a highly honorable gentle- 
 man, looked at him with contempt, but made no reply. When the 
 Pig left, he said to a gentleman present, who told me, "This is the 
 first time I have ever heard any one exulting over the baseness of 
 being a public informer; people bad enovigh to do such acts for pay, 
 generally want it hid." Comment is unnecessary. These few words, 
 spoken- by the learned Judge, give the fellow's character in full, and 
 he is richly entitled to the cognomen he bears from his neighbors, of 
 the "White Pig." His Pigship, a native Californian, and three oth- 
 ers, Dutch Jews, five in all, started on their grand hunt on Saturday, 
 the second of August, armed with guns, pistols, etc., to the Arroyo 
 Hondo. They reconnoitered the ground, and sent one of their party 
 
146 Nai'rative of Edward McGowan 
 
 to the house; the balance of them searched the immediate vicinity. 
 They remained at this place all night, and hunted for me for many 
 miles around in the mountains, but did not find me, simply because I 
 had received information of their intended visit, and, not knowing how 
 they got their knowledge of my whereabouts, I thought it was time 
 to travel, and left, a few days before their arrival, without giving 
 notice to any one of my intended departure; which leaves my anxious 
 friend, the suckling, in the position I first saw^ him on the eventful 
 sixth of July. I have suffered too much in this affair to allow him 
 ever to become a full-grown hog at my expense. 
 
 I was kept well posted in all the movements both of the imported 
 bloodhounds and of the very few who had a location in Santa Bar- 
 bara County, and from what I experienced and heard from others, I 
 can safely say there is not a high-toned native Californian or a re- 
 spectable American in the place who were in favor of the Vigilance 
 Committee. It was the reward that made the lower orders in 
 Santa Barbara hunt me. The distinguished gentleman who holds 
 the position as senator from this county, it is true, gave an enter- 
 tainment to a few of the aristocracy of the Committee, — not the hired 
 "lunch-eaters" of the Executive, — given as strangers, not as blood- 
 hunters, — at which my little friend "Woody" and pioneer Shanghae 
 coat Thompson figured very conspicuously, and the "White Pig" 
 was "rooting around" the kitchen somewhere. There was music 
 and dancing, and the entertainments of the evening were concluded 
 by the servants playing on a "tin trumpet" and "penny whistle," 
 and singing in Spanish, which I have since had translated intp Eng- 
 lish, the following couplet : — 
 
 " For things of use and things of sport. 
 The gay and curious here resort." 
 
 Did you get my letter of the twenty-second of June, from Carson 
 Valley? I made a big ride from San Luis Obispo to within a few 
 miles of Santa Barbara on the third of July. Some persons I met 
 on the road wanted to spend the Fourth there, and we made the trip 
 and crossed the mountain (and, great God,wiiat a mountain! ) at Santa 
 Ynez that evening. When I told the Californians about this, they 
 shook their heads and looked at me rather cunningly, and said it 
 was forty leagues. Yes; and I did it without getting out of the sad- 
 dle except to change horses once, and without eating, and once thirty 
 miles without a drink, and in one of the hottest days I ever expe- 
 rienced; but it had to be done, if I wanted to keep company with 
 those I had fallen in with. 
 
 Tell the boys I will see some of them at the inauguration of "Old 
 Buck" on the fourth of March. He will walk over the course; there 
 is really no contest in this fight. I wonder what state I shall vote 
 in at the coming election; I suppose in my present state — despera- 
 tion. Well, if I should happen to miss one election, according to my 
 friend Bailie Peyton's views when he introduced to the meeting the 
 double-headed ballot-box, "the harp of a thousand strings," and 
 named me as one of the harpers, I have done enough voting to be 
 excused for one election. I voted to send "Old Buck" to the Sen- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 147 
 
 ate in 1843, and also voted to instruct the delegates from California 
 to vote for him in the Cincinnati convention, and was also in the 
 glorious state convention that nominated him for the Presidency 
 in 1845. 
 
 With ordinary luck I will be in Sonora in four or five days, and 
 will write you again. I remain yours, <£fc., 
 
 Edward McGowan. 
 
 I had written the above in the corn-field, without the 
 knowledge of a single individual, and a trusty Indian had 
 mailed it for me at Santa Barbara. 
 
 Nothing occurred during the next week, of any interest, 
 and indeed my life, during the whole six weeks that I re- 
 mained in the corn-field, was pretty much as I have 
 described the first few days. I would sometimes venture 
 out onto the mountain with my gun, and shoot quails, which 
 were very plenty, always taking care to send the best of 
 them to my good hostess. I was daily visited by the peo- 
 ple of the ranch, and occasionally by some members of the 
 family, I enjoyed a great deal of agreeable and instruct- 
 ive conversation with the good Doctor, who was a close 
 observer of nature, and told me many wonderful stories of 
 the instinct of birds and animals. 
 
 Among others, he told me that, on one occasion, he and 
 his father-in-law had actually watched the trial of a culprit 
 crow by his peers ! They had a regular jury, and every 
 day, for three successive days, they came to the same spot 
 upon a hillside, bringing with them the defendant crow, 
 who was continually guarded by a kind of bailiff. After 
 keeping up a chatter all day over his case, they would 
 adjourn at night, and return the next day and resume the 
 trial. Finally, on the third day they appeared to have 
 come to a verdict of "guilty," for they all pounced upon 
 the prisoner and killed him on the spot. They then flew 
 away, and returned no more. Whether or not the defend- 
 ant had the benefit of counsel, it was impossible in the gen- 
 eral chatter to ascertain. I fear, though, from the Doctor's 
 account, that the poor bird's trial was but a one-sided. 
 Vigilance Committee kind of arrangement, after all. This 
 the Doctor assured me upon his word he had actually wit- 
 nessed. None who know him personally will need any 
 other guaranty of the truth of his assertion. 
 
148 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 When the Herald^ containing my letter to Mr. Nugent, 
 arrived in Santa Barbara, the Doctor happened to be in 
 town. On his return, he informed me that speculation was 
 rife as to my whereabouts. Many, who before believed that 
 I had gone south, were strengthened in their conviction by 
 the letter; but some of the shrewd ones, and among them 
 one S. B. Brinkerhoff, suspected that I was, after all, still 
 concealed in the county.*- This man BrinkerhofF, as I 
 have been informed, some years ago acted in the capacity 
 of coachman to Don Abel Stearns (one of the old Spanish 
 families in Los Angeles). However, he turned physician, 
 pulling teeth, and, by dint of quackery, effrontery, and parsi- 
 mony, has managed to drift into a position of apparent 
 respectability and affluence. His chief occupation now is 
 loaning out money to his neighbors, at usurious rates of inter- 
 est; and by his close attention to that honorable calling, he 
 has earned for himself the appellation of "Old Cent-per- 
 Cent Brinkerhoff. " 
 
 As before stated, this fellow still suspected that 1 was 
 lurking in the county, and, on reading my letter to Mr. 
 Nugent, was, as the Doctor informed me, almost suffocated 
 with rage at my assurance in daring to pen anything against 
 the best citizens of Santa Barbara County, and particularly 
 his friend Mr. Harvey Benjamin Blake, alias the "White 
 Pig." Poor Harvey! Perhaps it zvas cruel and unjust to 
 write impolite things about him, merely because he had 
 subjected me to the trifling annoyance of being hunted for 
 my blood for days and weeks like a wild coyote, but, smart- 
 ing as I was under the lash of misfortune, I could not, per- 
 haps, when I wrote the letter, look upon the matter in the 
 
 * Ned McGowan Again. — We learn from a gentleman, recently 
 from Santa Barbara, that, in all probability, McGowan is really in that 
 vicinity yet, notwithstanding the rumors of his arrival in Philadelphia. 
 Our informant is one of those who saw him and talked with him face 
 to face. He had shaved off that old white mustache, and was letting 
 his beard grow all over his face, which, considering the color of his 
 beard, gave him a hideous appearance. Is is thought by the residents 
 of that locality that the Californians, who have manifested quite an 
 antipathy to the Vigilance Committee, have him in charge, and will 
 succeed in screening him from the detection of the officers, or any 
 persons who shall search for him. Our informant is confident that 
 he is not thirty miles from Santa Barbara this moment. — S. F. Bul- 
 letin . 
 
Narrative of Edward A/[cGowan 149 
 
 same charitable spirit of Christian kindness that "Old Cent- 
 per-Cent" himself did when he instigated the mob to burn 
 me alive, and proposed to one of my friends the treachery 
 of offering me protection, and then delivering me over to 
 him. As I grow older, however, I shall perhaps grow 
 milder. 
 
 Boiling over with virtuous indignation, old "Shylock," 
 as he is also called by some of his most ardent admirers, 
 forthwith proceeded to institute another crusade against 
 me. He had gone so far as to engage the horses and men 
 with which to scour the county, when a friend of mine, who 
 had much influence with the livery-stable keeper of the 
 town, suggested to him the wisdom of getting his money 
 before he let his horses go. Accordingly, when all things 
 were in readiness to start, and the amiable gentlemen con- 
 nected with the laudable enterprise already saw me, in 
 fancy, dangling at the end of a rope, the party, on inquiring 
 for the horses, were met with the demand for their hire. 
 Here arose a struggle, in the bosom of the virtuous Brin- 
 kerhoff, between the love of gold and the thirst for blood. 
 He at length hit upon an expedient by which he fondly 
 hoped to avoid the dilemma. He told the stable-keeper 
 ("Old Adonis," as he was called by his familiars) that the 
 sheriff was then absent from town, but that on his return he 
 would settle the bill, whatever it was, that functionary be- 
 ing authorized by the puissant and immaculate Committee of 
 Vigilance of San Francisco to inundate the county of Santa 
 Barbara with money, if necessary, so that he but delivered 
 the "w/^/V///V(?z/j" safely into their clutches. The arrange- 
 ment, however, did not appear to be satisfactory to the stable- 
 keeper, who, I fear, was ungodly and impure enough to have 
 some slight misgivings as to the propriety of a mob's hang- 
 ing their fellow-creature like a dog, and he accordingly 
 again insisted on his money in advance, and thus again 
 threw "Cent-per-Cent" between the horns of his dilemma. 
 What was to be done .? The struggle was fearful in the 
 bosom of the "pure" and "good" Brinkerhoff. To let that 
 audacious wretch of the "white hat" bask with impunity 
 in the very glare of the "Hog's Eye,"* until that insulted 
 
 * To those of my readers, either here or elsewhere, who may not 
 have known that the Vigilance Committee used, for a ^vignette, on all 
 
150 Naiyative of Edward McGowan 
 
 optic fairly shed tears of baffled rage, was horrible to con- 
 template. But, on the other hand, to be mulcted out of his 
 hard earnings, in a sum exceeding perhaps the monthly 
 interest on one hundred dollars at ten per cent, was not to be 
 thought of. Direful and dread was the mighty struggle 
 which heaved that patriotic breast. At length, however, it 
 terminated, as all things must, and with a long-drawn sigh 
 of bitterness he reluctantly came to the conclusion that the 
 frightful sacrifice demanded of him, in his penury and want, 
 was greater than even the glorious cause in which he was 
 embarked had a right to exact, and, turning sorrowfully 
 away from the heathenish proprietor of the horse-flesh, the 
 splendid campaign which he had projected "fell through." 
 
 Had this expedition started, due notice would, of course, 
 have been sent to me by my friends, and I could soon have 
 placed myself where neither horses could have reached me 
 or men found me. In consideration of that state of things, 
 I am now disposed to regret that the struggle in "Cent- 
 per-Cent's" bosom terminated as it did. I confess that I 
 am no more exempt from the desire of vengeance for a 
 wrong than other men, and as I believe from what, I can 
 learn of this man's character, confirmed as it is by my own 
 experience, that neither the upbraidings of one whom he 
 has oppressed, nor the merited scorn of his species, can so 
 much afliict him as the loss of a little gold, I am sorry 
 that he did not invest the paltry amount of that horse-hire. 
 I can assure him that it would have afforded me the live- 
 liest satisfaction to know that he had been so keenly stung 
 in his most vital part. I beg, however, that for this natu- 
 ral expression of feeling 1 may not be charged with the 
 offense laid to my door, by old "Cent-per-Cent," in the case 
 of his friend Blake, viz., that of impudently writing 
 against the best citizens of Santa Barbara. 
 
 Shortly after this demonstration, my friends became of 
 opinion that the persecution of me by my enemies in Santa 
 
 documents emanating- from them, a representation of an open eye, 
 which they somewhat blasphemously called the "All-Seeing Eye," 
 I will state that such was the fact. The "Law and Order" men, 
 partly to relieve the conceit of its wickedness, and partly in derision, 
 vulgarly termed it the "Hog-'s Eye"; hence I have used that desig-- 
 nation in the text. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 151 
 
 Barbara had about ceased. I now began to be more free 
 from alarm than I had been since the commencement of 
 my pilgrimage. I not only had the friendship and protec- 
 tion of Dr. Den and all his people, but also the sympathy 
 of all the respectable portion of the inhabitants of the 
 county. Indeed, so freely had Dr. Den expressed his ab- 
 horrence of the persecution I had suffered, that few of 
 those who had taken part in it cared to come about his 
 premises. Besides, about a month after I had entered the 
 corn-field, those of my pursuers who belonged to San 
 Francisco became generally convinced that I was in 
 Sonora. * Thus circumstanced, I began to be very com- 
 fortable in mind, and the first ray of hope that my troubles 
 were drawing to a close began to dawn upon me. 
 
 Early in September, I received a visit from my friend 
 the Hon. Pablo De la Guerra. It was the first time I had 
 seen him since my arrival in the county, though I was by 
 no means ignorant of his many good offices to me during 
 my adversity. I was, as may be supposed, delighted to 
 see him, and his visit, though short, was very agreeable. 
 He was on his way to San Luis Obispo, on some private 
 business, and had taken the opportunity to call on me. 
 
 A few days afterward, I was visited by the gallant and 
 chivalric Captain Thomas Moore. This gentleman is the 
 
 * Ned McGowan. — The Herald of the 16th says, speaking of con- 
 founding Col. Baker with McGowan: — 
 
 "We have since received information which corroborates the state- 
 ment of the expressman. Mr. Lloyd, who has been stationed at 
 Sackett's Wells, in charge of Dr. R. C. Matthewson's provision 
 depot, arrived in town on Tuesday evening last, and has stated to us 
 that Ned McGowan spent a night at his camp, subsequent to his 
 having been seen by the expressman at Cariso Creek. Mr. Lloyd 
 assures us there can be no mistake in the matter of identity, as he 
 knows McGowan, and that his German traveling companion ad- 
 dressed him as Judge, and more familiarly as Ned. With due defer- 
 ence to the opinion of our correspondent, we cannot but conclude 
 that the 'Col. Baker' of the expressman and the 'Judge' of Mr. 
 Lloyd are one and the same person, — Ned McGowan. ["] 
 
 More about McGowan. — El Clafnor Publico, of the 23d, says 
 that a person lately arrived from Sonora has informed them that he 
 saw Ned McGowan cross the river Colorado. He was armed with a 
 rifle, two Colt's pistols, and a long knife. Alfred Shelby, of Los 
 Angeles, was in company with him. — TonvTi Talk, August 30. 
 
152 Nafvative of Edward McGowan 
 
 son of a post-captain in the British navy, and an Irish- 
 man by birth. He had adopted the sea for a profession, 
 and he it was who secreted in his ship the Irish patriot 
 D'Arcy McGee, when the British authorities were in 
 pursuit of him, and brought him safely to America. He 
 had been a great traveler, and the chances and changes of 
 a sailor's life had thrown him, in 1851, on the shores of 
 California. He had married a young and beautiful Cali- 
 fornia lady, and was located, as a permanent citizen of 
 Santa Barbara, on a rancho called "&/ si Puedes,'' about 
 forty miles distant from the residence of Doctor Den. I 
 was very much pleased at making his acquaintance, and 
 found him a most worthy gentleman and agreeable com- 
 panion. He had recently been to San Francisco, and 
 informed me that one of the Executive Committee of Vi- 
 gilance had declared, in his hearing, that if they could but 
 get me back there, they would spare my life just long 
 enough to erect a gallows on which to hang me, and no 
 longer. He informed me that himself and some friends 
 had been endeavoring to procure a schooner for him to 
 command, and safely run me into some port in Mexrco, but 
 had failed in the enterprise. After a very long and agree- 
 able visit, he departed, having first cordially invited me to 
 visit him at his house, which I promised to do as soon as it 
 could be considered safe. 
 
 About the middle of September, Doctor Den started for 
 San Francisco. His little daughter, Kate, had been for the 
 past two years under the care of the Sisters of Notre Dame 
 at San Jose, and it was now past the time when she should 
 have returned to her studies. She had learned to speak 
 and write English fiuently and grammatically. Her Span- 
 ish, too, I was told, was pure Castilian. She told me she 
 disliked French, but I told her all young ladies ought to 
 learn it, and without it she would not be accomplished. 
 She promised me she would pay more attention to it the 
 coming year. I sent several messages by the Doctor to 
 certain friends in San Francisco, and, wishing me comfort 
 and safety while he was gone, he and his little daughter 
 departed. 
 
 A few days after this, as things appeared pretty quiet, it 
 occurred to me that I would avail myself of Captain 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 153 
 
 Moore's invitation and visit him at his ranch. Accordingly, 
 on the morning of the tv^^entieth of September I told San- 
 tiago that I intended to take a trip to Sal si Puedes, and 
 asked him to accompany me as guide. He was delighted 
 at the idea of a holiday, and, saddling two of the finest 
 horses on the place, he reported himself ready for the 
 journey. The Sal si Puedes is situated on a wagon-road 
 that runs from Santa Barbara to San Luis Obispo, through 
 what is called the Gaviota Pass, avoiding the mountain of 
 Santa Tnez, which is, of course, impassable for wagons. As 
 we did not get off until late in the morning, we did not 
 arrive at our destination until just before nightfall. 
 
 The road lay, for the first twenty-three miles after leav- 
 ing the Dos Puehlos (Doctor Den's place), along the coast, 
 passing Sefior Ignacio Ortega's ranch and the Arroyo 
 Hondo. It then suddenly turns into a very deep and nar- 
 row mountain-gorge running eastward from the coast. 
 This is the Gaviota Pass, and a more wild and lonely spot 
 one would not wish to see. It seemed as if formed by na- 
 ture for purposes of ambuscade. After traversing this pass 
 for about three miles and a half, we came suddenly to the 
 rancho of Las Cruces, the residence, it will be remembered, 
 of my Spanish friend whom Power had deceived as to my 
 destination when he took me to the Arroyo Hondo. As 
 may be supposed, I had no particular desire to see any one 
 here, or to be seen. We therefore rode on without halting, 
 seeing only one man on the road, a Californian, from whom 
 we got some grapes. The country now became more open 
 and level, and, after riding about seven miles farther, we 
 came to the rancho of San Julian. This is one of the 
 De la Guerra estates, and is an extensive and valuable 
 piece of property. About eight miles farther brought us 
 to Sal si Puedes, the residence of my friend Captain Moore. 
 We had left the road, shortly before getting there, to take a 
 near bridle-path over the hills. As Santiago had not been 
 there before for three years, he remembered this path but 
 indistinctly, and the consequence was, that it took us some 
 time to find the place. At length, however, we stumbled 
 directly upon it. Turning the foot of a low hill, who should 
 we see but the Captain, who, on seeing us, welcomed us 
 very cordially and guided us to the house. I could not 
 
 [11] G* 
 
154 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 help telling the Captain that Sal si Puedes (get out if you 
 can) was a good name for his place. I saw that he kept a 
 store there, and told him that he reminded me of the fool 
 in Philadelphia, who said, if all the world were dead he 
 would open a house on the "Ridge Road," not stopping to 
 think where his customers were to come from. He told 
 me to come into the house, and to-morrow he would show 
 me where his customers came from. I then entered with 
 my kind host, and he introduced me to his young bride. He 
 had been married but three months. The senora is a 
 daughter of Captain James W. Burke, an Irish gentleman 
 who has resided in Santa Barbara for thirty years, having 
 married a California lady shortly after his arrival. The 
 wife of the Captain, whose name is Madelina, speaks no 
 English as yet, and is very pretty, ladylike, and hospita- 
 ble. I had by this time picked up enough Spanish to un- 
 derstand most that was said, and generally make myself 
 understood, and, though it was a little awkward, I managed, 
 with the aid of Captain Tom, to get on in the conversation 
 pretty well. I enjoyed an excellent supper at my friend's 
 hospitable board, and, after passing a very pleasant^ even- 
 ing, we retired for the night. My friend seemed very 
 apprehensive that I had come from my hiding-place in the 
 corn too soon, and, lest any one should have observed me 
 on the road, he placed me in the room adjoining his own, 
 so that he could be on hand to assist in case of a demon- 
 stration against me. I enjoyed a sound sleep, however, 
 without molestation of any kind, and in the morning took 
 a delightful bath in a hot spring adjacent to the Captain's 
 house. I then sat dov^m to a pleasant breakfast, and was 
 made to feel quite at home by my hospitable host and host- 
 ess. 
 
 It being Sunday, we were visited by a great number of 
 Californians and Indians, who came to purchase all descrip- 
 tions of goods at the store. Some of them had ridden 
 fifteen and twenty miles out of their way to get the Cap- 
 tain's whisky, which was a pure article, and only fifty 
 cents a bottle, while at the Mission of Santa Ines, and other 
 places of the sort, the article was miserable and the price 
 a dollar. I told the Captain I wanted to purchase a dress 
 for Maria Jesus, the wife of Santiago, whereupon he di- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 155 
 
 rected her husband to select one that pleased him, and then 
 presented it to him. I coidd not induce him to let me pay 
 him for it. In vain I expostulated. He only replied, "You 
 have probably use for what money you have; another time 
 you can pay me." And I had to submit. 
 
 I remained with my hospitable friend till the next day 
 (Monday), at four o'clock, p. m. He would not permit me 
 to start earlier, lest some one of the people who had been 
 at the store should have identified me, and, in order to 
 secure the reward that had been offered for me, lie in wait 
 at Las Cruces or in the Gaviota Pass, with the expectation 
 of my passing in the daytime. 
 
 All things being in readiness, the Captain gave us a bot- 
 tle of his best whisky, and particularly impressed San- 
 tiago with the necessity of great care and watchfulness in 
 going through the Gaviota Pass. Santiago promised faith- 
 fully to obey his instructions, and, bidding farewell to the 
 good Captain and his lady, we started. My visit to the 
 Sal si Puedes had gratified the Captain and been most 
 agreeable to me. I felt as though I had another true friend 
 in case of need, and I began to look upon myself as less 
 of an outcast, and more nearly approaching, every day, my 
 former position among my fellow-creatures. Indeed, the 
 Captain had told me, before I left him, that, in case of any 
 unforeseen circumstance compelling me to leave my asylum 
 at the good Doctor's, I must unhesitatingly make my way 
 at once to him, and, as long as he had life, I should have 
 protection. 
 
 Santiago and I rode on without anything of interest 
 occurring till shortly after we had passed the San Julian 
 Ranch, when we saw a couple of grizzlies playing on the 
 side of a mountain not far from us. There were a great 
 many cattle in the vicinity, and they were running in every 
 direction, frightened at the grim intruders on their domain. 
 I felt alarmed, and drew my pistol, anticipating an "attack. 
 Santiago, however, gave me to understand that there was 
 no cause for apprehension, and the horses we were riding, 
 having often been used for lassoing these animals, cantered 
 on without exhibiting any signs of fear. Santiago told 
 me that at that particular ranch these beasts are very de- 
 structive of the stock, killing a cow or a bullock almost 
 
156 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 every night. The CaHfornians hunt them with the lasso, 
 on horses trained for the purpose. Notwithstanding we 
 rode at a brisk' gait, it was after night when we arrived in 
 the neighborhood of Las Cruces. Here we dismounted 
 and tightened our saddle-girths. Santiago laid his ear to 
 the ground and listened for the sound of horse-hoofs, but, 
 hearing none, we again mounted, and rode silently past Las 
 Cruces and through the Gaviota Pass without molestation. 
 Having struck the coast, we rode the remaining twenty- 
 three miles at a round gallop, and alighted at Dr. Den's 
 at two o'clock in the morning. Of course no one was 
 stirring about the premises, and, betaking myself to the corn- 
 field, I slept till daylight. The day after my return from 
 Sal si Puedes, Doiia Rosa told me that, if I thought it 
 perfectly safe, a room was at my disposal in the house, 
 where I would be more comfortable than in the corn-field. 
 All things taken into consideration, I concluded that by this 
 time I could safely accept the offer of my kind hostess, 
 and accordingly a room was prepared for me, and I was 
 from that time, until my departure from Santa Barbara, 
 domiciled under the hospitable roof of the good Doctor. 
 
 I was now very comfortable, and almost began to forget 
 my sorrows. One thing, however, I could not banish from 
 my remembrance, and that was, that an indictment for mur- 
 der, found by a grand jury of my countrymen, was hang- 
 ing over me. My original intention, as has been stated, 
 was to proceed to Philadelphia, but it was only to escape 
 the mob that was hunting me, not to shirk the indictment. 
 I had preserved, through every vicissitude of fortune, the 
 determination to one day stand my trial before a legally 
 constituted tribunal, unjust as I knew the finding of the 
 bill to be. Conscious of my own innocence, I had nothing 
 to fear from an impartial jury, and was anxious honorably 
 to wipe out that indictment from my record. The circum- 
 stances which have been detailed had thwarted my project 
 of going to Philadelphia, and there was now some pros- 
 pect of men's minds once more returning into the channel 
 of reason. Hence my every wish and hope was for the 
 arrival of the hour when I could deliver myself up to the 
 officers of the law, without the danger of being murdered 
 by the mob, and I anxiously awaited the tidings the Doc- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 157 
 
 tor should bring from San Francisco as to the disbanding 
 of the Vigilance Committee. 
 
 I was supplied, every two weeks, with all the papers, and 
 knew all that was going on at San Francisco and in other 
 parts of the state. I felt very confident that Mr. Buchan- 
 an would be elected to the Presidency, but, as I saw but 
 few of the Eastern papers, I had no idea that Colonel Fre- 
 mont could possibly carry the number of states that he did. 
 I was thunderstruck when I heard the result, and, seeing 
 how nearly an anti-national party had caught us napping, I 
 became a stronger Democrat, if possible, than ever. 
 
 About a fortnight after I had commenced sleeping in the 
 house, an accident occurred, which subjected my good friend 
 the Doctor to a serious loss, and as I was partly the cause 
 of it, it grieved me not a little. A man whom the people 
 at the ranch called Senor Benito came to the Dos Pueblos 
 for the purpose of hunting deer. The first day of his 
 arrival, he went out with his riiie and killed five, bring- 
 ing home with him nothing but the skins. He said it was 
 too much trouble to pack the meat, and besides, it was out 
 of season. It struck me that it was a pity to kill the beau- 
 tiful animals merely for their skins, which were only worth 
 half a dollar apiece; so I proposed to accompany him in 
 his next day's hunt, agreeing to bring home the meat my- 
 self. Accordingly, we started the next morning, and had 
 not been long on the hunting-ground before Benito killed a 
 fine buck. We skinned him, and I hung half of the meat 
 on a tree for my friend " Fred " (the Prussian), who was 
 cutting poles for the garden some distance up the moun- 
 tain, and packed the other half on my horse to the house. 
 That night Maria Jesus cooked the meat in the garden, 
 and, notwithstanding its being a little out of season, every 
 one about the place seemed to enjoy it very much. The 
 next day, I proposed to Fred a picnic in the mountains, on 
 the spot where he was cutting poles. This he agreed to, 
 and accordingly we provided ourselves with bread, pota- 
 toes, Chile peppers, etc. , and rode to the place where I had 
 hung up the other half of the deer, and, putting it on one of 
 the horses, proceeded up the mountain. As he was paid by 
 the thousand for his poles, I agreed, both for my own amuse- 
 ment and in order that he should lose none of his time, to 
 
158 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 cook the dinner myself, which I managed to do quite to the 
 satisfaction of both of us, and we enjoyed our feast heart- 
 ily. As a full half of what we had was left uncooked, 
 Fred proposed to let the lire continue to burn until the next 
 day, when he would cook the remainder for his dinner. I 
 suggested to him that there might be danger in leaving the 
 fire, on account of the dryness of the weather, but he 
 thought not, and, accordingly, placed a large log on it, and 
 we left the spot. We had not more than got down to the 
 plain when the sea-breeze began to blow very fresh, and 
 presently we observed that the mountain was on fire, and 
 the flames rapidly spreading in every direction. So long 
 as it confined itself to the mountain, no great damage was 
 to be apprehended, and I tried to comfort myself with the 
 hope that such would be the case when I first saw the 
 spreading of the flames. I was doomed, however, to dis- 
 appointment, for, as the night wore on, it increased until 
 everything for miles around was wrapped in conflagration, 
 and before morning it had passed the Doctor's house, and, 
 it being the driest season of the year, not a drop of rain 
 having fallen for six months, everything burned before it 
 like tinder. The cattle, deer, and all sorts of game, were 
 driven in frightened throngs to the valleys, and as for rab- 
 bits and hares, basketfuls of them might have been picked 
 up. Doila Rosa's brothers and several of the neighbors 
 came to her relief, and I think I never worked so hard in 
 my life as I did in assisting to put it out. At night it was 
 the most awful, and yet the most magnificent, sight I ever 
 beheld. Notwithstanding my sorrow and vexation, I could 
 not but admire the fearful splendor of the scene. The 
 mountain-side seemed one vast nest of hellish serpents as 
 the hissing flames coiled around the stunted trees, licking 
 away with their fiery tongues the dry twigs and branches. 
 Ever and anon they would get into some hollow trunk and 
 roar through it like a forge-chimney, while dazzling spouts 
 of fire shot through the knot-holes in its sides, giving it 
 the appearance of a tree with branches of flame. They 
 reminded me of the side-lights in a brilliant theatre scene; 
 but the background was a thousand-fold more terrible and 
 grand. At length, when it had got into the plain, with 
 nothing but the short grass to feed it, we managed to get 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 159 
 
 it under, but not until it had destroyed a vast quantity of 
 pasture. 
 
 The Doctor's loss from the grass which had been de- 
 stroyed amounted afterward to nearly a hundred head of 
 stock by starvation. As may be supposed, I felt very 
 wretched about this affair, and the fact that I had expostu- 
 lated with Fred against leaving the fire burning was but 
 small consolation to me. I had suggested the miserable 
 idea of the picnic, and I ought to have insisted on the fire 
 being put out. Notwithstanding the Doctor's severe loss, 
 after that amiable gentleman had returned from San Fran- 
 cisco, and I was upbraiding myself to him for my careless- 
 ness, he simply replied, Mac, if I had ri t had them, I 
 could nt have lost them. " He said, that, owing to his supe- 
 rior pasture-land, his neighbors yearly lost twice as many 
 cattle as himself from drought, and it was but reasonable 
 he should sometimes have a little bad luck. As for "Fred," 
 five hundred dollars of wages was due him, every cent of 
 which he was paid without a word of reproach, and further 
 employment procured for him through the influence of the 
 Doctor. 
 
 On the second day of November, the Doctor arrived 
 from San Francisco. He brought me several letters and 
 messages from my friends, and all the newspapers. I as- 
 certained by the latter that it was now pretty generally 
 conceded, on all hands, that I was in Sonora. In the Town 
 Talk of October 3Qth, I read the following: — 
 
 Ned McGowan. — From a gentleman who came passenger on the 
 Senator the last trip, and who has been residing in Sonora for the 
 last two or three years, we learn that Judge Ned McGowan is at the 
 present time residing In Sonora. Our informant stopped at the same 
 house with Ned, while the latter was en route for Sonora, at a place 
 below Warner's ranch, and, although he has no acquaintance with 
 him, has no doubt of its being the genuine Ned. In fact, it is, he 
 says, notorious to every one there that he is in Sonora. 
 
 The Doctor also brought me a kind message and a couple 
 of bottles of excellent brandy from my good friend B. F. 
 Johnson, Esq. , the well-known and popular proprietor of 
 the Magnolia Hotel, in Sacramento. On the day of the 
 election, while the Doctor and his people had gone to the 
 Mission of Santa Barbara to vote, it struck me that I would 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 161 
 
 write to my friend "Baldy. " I did so, and afterward saw 
 published, on the 19th of November, in the Democratic 
 State Journal, the following extracts therefrom : — 
 
 Letter from Ned McGowan. — A day or two ago, a letter was 
 received in this city from the ubiquitous Ned McGowan, of Vigilance 
 Committee memory. We have been permitted to read it, and we 
 assure the reader that it is a genuine document. Notwithstanding 
 the letters from Philadelphia, telling us that Ned is rusticating in that 
 locality, and other reports that he is dying of the bowel complaint in 
 Utah, Ned is still resident within the bounds of California, — "was 
 never in the enjoyment of better health." It will be seen, from the 
 extracts we publish below, that Ned, as usual, is disposed to laugh at 
 his own troubles. He thinks, with Mrs. Gamp, that " them as lives 
 in a walley must take the consequences of sich a sitivation," and he 
 is resolved to make the most of the few creature comforts left him. 
 The story of his escape from San Francisco, and his wanderings, 
 would make an interesting book, and, since Ned is of a literary turn 
 of mind, we have no doubt that he will put himself in print one of 
 these days. 
 
 The letter is dated at " Hidden Diggins, Sky County, California." 
 He says: — 
 
 "Dear 'Old Baldy': — Your 'Elixir of Life' reached me in 
 due season, by the hands of the best of men, and not a member of the 
 'purest and best,' either, but a high-toned, honest, and intelligent 
 son of the Emerald Isle, who has the good fortune to be well off in 
 this world's goods. You have my thanks, for it has been a long time 
 since I swallowed anything in the liquor line half so delicious, and 
 under any other circumstances it would give me infinite pleasure to 
 recommend your dark brandy to the drinking fraternity of this 
 peaceful and glorious land of liberty! ! ! But, ' situated as I am,' I 
 can only thank you by letter, and not in the customary manner, 
 through the free, independent, and untrammeled press at the Bay; 
 and further I will say to you, that to those who, like myself, can en- 
 joy a bumper in solitude, having, for a season, gone into retirement, 
 and quitted this gay and heartless world, auspiciously and wisely, it 
 will prove an invaluable medicine." 
 
 It is evident that Ned found a great solace in his " Elixir of Life. " 
 
 "I still like to hear something of you poor fellows who are forced 
 by circumstances to remain in it (the gay and heartless world) — ^and 
 particularly when the news is made the more welcome accompanied 
 by such precious stuff — stuff! that's very significant, is it not? I 
 wonder how I chanced to write that obsolete phrase — stuff, stuffer, 
 stuffing ! I was about writing you an apology for this lapsus pengucs, 
 when ' C///WO,' who was looking over my shoulder, said that it was 
 not quite blotted out of existence, being still extant in turkeys and 
 chickens for Christmas, and besides, that, in this election for Presi- 
 dent, the Democrats will be at their old tricks again, and stuff the 
 ballot-boxes from San Diego to Shasta. 
 
 ' ' I am now studying the Castilian tongue a lafran^aise. My system 
 
162 Nan'ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 of learning Spanish is far superior to Ollendorff's mode, particularly 
 when the teacher is young and innocent. I will give you a small 
 specimen of my improvement. Imagine me in a caiion adjacent to 
 steep and rugged mountains, where I daily retire for my devotions. 
 A little boy runs up the caiion, seeking me. 
 "Boy. — i Don Edwardo, Don Edwardo ! 
 "McGoWAN. — iAqui, aqui, mi bueno muchacho ! 
 ' ' Boy. — i Arriba, arriba ! i vamos ! 
 "McGowAN. — iPorque, mi bonito pajaro? 
 
 "Boy. — Bastante hombres en el casa. i Mucho malo! i Vigilantes! 
 "I heard enough, and quietly, but not slowly, walked to the top of 
 the mountain to catch the cooling breeze — that's all. 
 
 "I have often thought of the paragraph little Bartlett (Jules) 
 wrote about me last winter. I like a good thing, even at my own 
 expense, — anything but strangling, — say what they please; but hands 
 off. After saying something about my acquaintance with a French 
 lady, playing draw-poker, iSfc, he concluded by prophecying 'that my 
 political career, like my amours, would end in a blow-up.' It was 
 lucky, some folks think, it was not a 'hang-up.' 
 
 "'From mock to earnest, even into tones 
 Of tragic, and with less and less of jest, 
 To such a serious end.' 
 
 "Resp'y your friend, 
 
 "Edward McGowan." 
 
 The Doctor had promised me that on election-day I 
 should go to the Mission of Santa Ines, an out-of-the-way 
 place, and vote. On reflection, however, he thought it 
 would be unsafe, and I was reluctantly compelled to forgo 
 the pleasure of casting my vote for Mr. Buchanan. Doctor 
 Den, although a good and true Democrat in every other 
 particular, has a strong personal attachment for Colonel 
 Fremont. During the war, he saw much of the Colonel, 
 and entertained him at his house, and he felt himself con- 
 strained, by considerations of personal friendship, to give 
 him his support, which he did, but not, by any means, from 
 sympathy with the political party of which he was the 
 nominee. I had cut several copies of the Democratic 
 ticket from the head of the San Francisco He?'ald, intend- 
 ing to electioneer them at Santa Incs, but was prevented 
 by the caution of my good friend the Doctor. General Co- 
 varrubias had sent a quantity of the Democratic tickets to 
 the Mission, but not one of them were voted or seen during 
 the day. Colonel Fremont received the entire vote of the 
 precinct, which gave him the county by a majority of four. 
 As several Democrats did not vote at that precinct at all. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 163 
 
 for want of tickets, I am satisfied that had I been there 
 with my Herald tickets, Santa Barbara would have gone 
 Democratic. However, it resulted very happily. My 
 kind host, the Doctor, had the satisfaction of doing his 
 utmost for his friend, and Mr. Buchanan carried the state. 
 
 The Doctor's news, as regarded the Vigilance Com- 
 mittee and my chances for a safe return, were very dis- 
 couraging. All of my friends who had written me cautioned 
 me by all means to remain where I was till things looked 
 better; consequently I had nothing for it but to stay quietly 
 where I was, which I did till Christmas had come and 
 gone. My life was pretty much the same every day as I 
 have described it. Occasionally I would quietly ride over 
 to Seiior Ignacio Ortega's to purchase whisky for the 
 Indians, especially on Saturdays, when they would say to 
 me, in Spanish, "To-morrow is Sunday: there will be no 
 work, and we '11 drink whisky with Paisano."" I amused 
 myself very often by hunting. The country abounds in 
 game of all sorts. A party, of which the husband of Maria 
 los Angeles was one, killed no less than one hundred and 
 thirty deer in one month. Geese, too, and ducks, were very 
 plentiful, and could be got by going only a short distance 
 from the house. 
 
 A great field-sport of the Californians in the dull winter 
 months, and by no means a contemptible one in point of 
 excitement and danger, is lassoing grizzly bears. I saw 
 several of them captured in this way. Both the horses, 
 which are trained for the purpose, and the men exhibit 
 great quickness and skill in this dangerous sport. Relying 
 on the activity and sagacity of their horses to keep out of 
 the monster's reach, the horsemen soon have a lasso around 
 one foot of the bear, and as quickly as possible each of 
 his other feet is similarly secured, and the horses hold all 
 four of the legs stretched out in opposite directions while 
 he is dispatched with a knife. One party, which started 
 out from Santa Barbara, succeeded in thus killing ten 
 bears in one day. They are very numerous, and exceed- 
 ingly destructive of the cattle. 
 
 Now and then an incident would occur to remind me 
 that I was not yet safe from pursuit myself. For example, 
 one day the sheriff of Santa Barbara, Mr. Heath, and his 
 
164 , Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 lady came to visit the Doctor, and remained all night. The 
 Doctor and I were just seating ourselves at the dinner- 
 table as the visitors arrived. I had barely time to get up 
 and go into my room v^ithout being observed. I did not 
 feel quite sure that, even had he seen me, he would have 
 attempted to arrest me then, but I thought it prudent to 
 take no chances. Maria los Angeles brought my dinner 
 around the house to the window of my room, where I 
 remained until night, and then, taking a pair of blankets 
 and my gun, I stepped quietly out and slept in the garden. 
 
 Not far from the house, there was a kind of lagoon on 
 the sea-beach, where always might be found, early in the 
 morning, great quantities of ducks and geese. When I 
 awoke in the morning, I determined to go to this place and 
 shoot a brace of ducks for breakfast. Accordingly, I took 
 my gun and proceeded down the cation which led to the 
 shore. On arriving there, who should I see but the Sheriff ! 
 He, too, had a gun, and was there, I suppose, for the same 
 purpose that I was. He said nothing to me, however, 
 although I thought at the time he must have known me, 
 and I quickly walked down the coast, and so by a circuitous 
 route back again to the garden, leaving him in undisputed 
 possession of all the ducks in the pond. I thought, as he 
 was a stranger at the Dos Pueblos, it was a courtesy to 
 which he was entitled. After he had gone, the Doctor told 
 me that he had related to him the circumstance, and told 
 him that I was perfectly safe from arrest by him, as he 
 knew full well that I was only awaiting an opportunity to 
 go to San Francisco in safety and stand my trial. 
 
 About this time a queer old Indian came to live with the 
 Doctor, v^'ho used to amuse me very much. He must have 
 been at least eighty years of age, and, according to the old 
 chroniclers of the county, he had been baptized sixty years 
 ago. He was employed to look after the sheep and pro- 
 tect them from the coyotes. The Indians about the place 
 called him El Pastor (shepherd). He used to keep his 
 account of the number of the young lambs with notches on 
 a stick. He could do very well until he got up to forty, 
 but beyond that number he never could mark. Forty-one 
 notches on the stick would have so confused his account 
 that he could make nothing out of it. Any combination of 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 165 
 
 numbers exceeding the aggregate of forty was, to him, all 
 the books of Euclid condensed into one problem. When 
 asked how old he was, he would reply, "(^' ^z//W sabe? — 
 about forty, "and that had probably been his answer to the 
 question for at least forty years. 
 
 I used frequently to take my gun and roam up into the 
 mountains where he was herding the sheep, and try to talk 
 to him. Sometimes I would be quite low-spirited, and he 
 would say to me, "Why are you sad, old man V I would 
 shrug my shoulders and say, "I don't know." He would 
 then say, " Is there not brandy at the house.?" I would 
 tell him there was, and he would ask, "Why, then, are you 
 sad.f*" He considered it unreasonable that I should wish 
 for a greater share of earthly happiness than a bottle of 
 brandy afforded. I beguiled many a weary hour in trying 
 to study out the thoughts and machinery of that poor, old, 
 benighted Indian's mind. 
 
 At length the legislature met, and I began seriously to 
 prepare my plans to return once more to the companion- 
 ship of my fellow-citizens. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 'I'he day at last lias broken: 
 
 What a night 
 Hath ushered it! 
 
 SarJanapalus. 
 
 About the twenty-second of January, an Indian broiio;ht 
 me, from Santa Barbara, a box containing some clothing 
 and several bottles of good wine and brandy, which had 
 been kindly sent me from San PVancisco by my good 
 friend James W. Stillman, Esq. This box was found in 
 Santa Barbara, together with several letters for me, by the 
 Doctor, who immediately sent it to me, but put the letters 
 in his pocket, intending to bring them himself. 
 
 On opening the box, I found several of the late papers, 
 and, as I was glancing over one of them, my eye fell on the 
 words, ' now that Mr. Broderick is elected to the United 
 States Senate. " I read no farther. P'orthwith I opened 
 the brandy and circulated it around among all the people 
 of the ranch. I shouted and danced, and made the Indians 
 do the same, and absolutely went wild with delight. I pre- 
 sented Dona Rosa with a bottle of sweet wine, and beg- 
 ged her to drink the health of my friend the Senator, 
 which she did. The Indians did not know what to make 
 of my antics, and I could only shout to xhiixn^^^ Biicno pa?-a 
 mi am'ivo.'''' They knew that I had received some good 
 news, and were not at all backward in doing their share of 
 the drinking. I believe I fuddled every Indian about the 
 place, and became sufficiently elevated myself. 
 
 The next day the Doctor came home, and we exchanged 
 congratulations on the good news. He is, himself, a very 
 
 166 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 167 
 
 warm admirer of Mr. Broderick, and had been making a 
 night of it in town with some others of the Senator's 
 friends. 
 
 I found, among the letters which he brought, one from a 
 friend, informing me that preparations were being made for 
 my return, in order that I might stand my trial. Daylight 
 had at last broken on the night of my misfortunes, and I 
 anxiously looked forward to the hour when I might go 
 back and mingle once more with my fellow-citizens. At 
 last that hour arrived. 
 
 On Wednesday, the tenth day of February, as we were 
 sitting at the supper-table, I heard a voice, which sounded 
 familiarly to me, inquiring at the garden gate, ' Is this 
 Doctor Den s place?'"' The Doctor went out, and Doiia 
 Rosa and I followed him. It was at seven o'clock in the 
 evening, and quite dark. It did not take me long, however, 
 to recognize in the visitor my friend Captain J. Martin 
 Reese, of San Francisco, and formerly of Philadelphia. 
 He had just dismounted from his horse, which he had given 
 in charge of a servant, and as I rushed forward to embrace 
 him, the Doctor and Doiia Rosa saw by my conduct that 
 he was a friend. I introduced him to my good host and 
 his lady, and we all entered the house. The Captain was 
 the first San Francisco friend that I had seen since I had 
 left Dennison on that dreadful sixth of July, in Santa Bar- 
 bara, and I could scarcely control my joy. Supper was 
 immediately prepared for him, and I soon became absorbed 
 in the contents of the letters he had brought me. Among 
 them was the following, from the Hon. E. T. Beatty, then 
 speaker of the house of assembly: — 
 
 Sacramento City, Jan'y 27th, 1857. 
 Judge Edward McGowan : — 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have had much conversation with Capt. Reese and 
 others in regard to the practicability of having a special act passed 
 by the present legislature, granting you a change of venue from San 
 Francisco without the necessity of your personal appearance in that 
 county, and am of opinion that there will be no difficulty in accom- 
 plishing it. It is so notorious that your person would be in danger 
 of mob violence were you to go back there, to say nothing of the 
 absolute impossibility of your procuring a fair trial in that commu- 
 nity, that I cannot conceive of any honest man's opposition to a law 
 so obviously just and necessary. I would therefore recommend to 
 
168 Nari'ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 you by all means to come as quietly and quickly as you can to Sac- 
 ramento, where you certainly will be at least safe from personal vio- 
 lence. 
 
 Very truly your friend, 
 (Signed) E. T. Beatty. 
 
 This, together with some other letters which I received 
 from friends in San Francisco, at once resolved me as to 
 my course. I determined to go to Sacramento at all hazards, 
 and trust to the sense of justice of the members of the 
 legislature to be put in a condition honorably to stand my 
 trial without the danger of falling a victim to the fanaticism 
 of the San Francisco mob. 
 
 My friend Reese had a plan to purchase or charter a 
 schooner at San Francisco, and take her, with me in her, 
 directly from Santa Barbara to Sacramento. This arrange- 
 ment, however, was not satisfactory, for the reason that 
 everything depended on my arriving at the capital before 
 the legislature adjourned, and the time necessary to pro- 
 cure the vessel and send her down the coast and make the 
 passage back with her to Sacramento, making due allow- 
 ance for calms and head winds, was likely to exceed the 
 time which the legislature would probably be in session, 
 the senate having already resolved to adjourn on the 
 fourth of March. Accordingly, after consultation with the 
 Doctor, I made up my mind to start immediately for Sac- 
 ramento by land, avoiding San Francisco, and going by the 
 '"'' Pacheco Pass'' to Stockton, and thence to the capital. The 
 Doctor and Reese and myself sat up late that night, talk- 
 ing over the events of the past ten months in San Fran- 
 cisco and discussing my future plans of action, occasion- 
 ally indulging in potations of my host's good brandy; and 
 when I retired that night I felt really a sense of sadness 
 that with the termination of my misfortunes would also 
 terminate my delightful intercourse with my generous 
 friend and his family. So kind had the Doctor and Dona 
 Rosa been to me, that I felt somewhat of the regret of 
 the "Prisoner of Chillon"when the hour of his release 
 from captivity approached. Not, however, like him, from 
 excess of despair and long familiarity with misery, but 
 from the reflection that my return to the haunts of my fel- 
 low-men, earnestly as I longed for it, was bought at the 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 169 
 
 sacrifice of those delightful pleasures which only he can 
 know who has been the recipient, in the hour of his adver- 
 sity, of the spontaneous and heart-gushing benevolence of 
 one of nature's noblemen. 
 
 My friend the Captain, on being apprised of my deter- 
 mination to return north by land, instantly declared his 
 intention of accompanying me. This proof of his friend- 
 ship, though not unexpected, was greater than I was will- 
 ing to accept. I expostulated with him on his folly in 
 incurring the dangers and discomforts of such a trip at 
 that season of the year, assuring him that I could make 
 my way through alone; but all to no purpose. He only 
 replied, that he had come to me to help me out of my mis- 
 fortunes, and did not intend to leave me until he had seen 
 me safely through. Accordingly, it was arranged that we 
 should start together, and the next morning the Doctor, 
 sending Reese's hired horse back by an Indian, drove him 
 to tow^n in his buggy, where it was necessary he should go, 
 in order to provide himself with equipments for his jour- 
 ney. I gave him a note to an Irish gentleman of the name 
 of F. J. Maguire, Esq. , who I thought would be a proper 
 person to assist him in making his arrangements. 
 
 I forgot to mention that I had made the acquaintance of 
 this gentleman during my stay at the Dos Pueblos. He 
 was a frequent visitor there, and a very clever and intelli- 
 gent man. He was one of the patriots who were driven 
 from Ireland by the tyranny of their rulers, and is very 
 respectably connected at home. His brother is a member 
 of the British Parliament, and editor of the Cork Exam- 
 iner, one of the ablest presses of the kingdom. Although 
 for a year past he has been at perfect liberty to return to 
 his native land under shelter of the bill of amnesty passed 
 by Parliament in behalf of the expatriated Irishmen, he 
 prefers to remain under the wings of our Eagle, and has 
 permanently located upon the soil, having married a Cali- 
 fornia lady, a sister of the wife of Captain Thomas Moore, 
 of Sal si Piiedes. He was originally educated to the bar, 
 but has abandoned his profession, preferring to engage in 
 mercantile pursuits. He is a gentleman of fine attain- 
 ments, and will doubtless ere long take a distinguished posi- 
 tion among the citizens of his county. To this gentleman, 
 
 [12] H 
 
170 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 who keeps a store in Santa Barbara, I commended my 
 friend Reese. 
 
 The Captain was received very kindly, not only by Mr. 
 Maguire, but also many others of my friends in Santa 
 Barbara. He was introduced to the mayor, Don Antonio 
 Maria De la Guerra, who gave him a letter to one of his 
 brothers at Los Alamos^ a place we were to pass on our 
 journey north; also one to a nephew of his at San Luis 
 Obispo. In short, the Captain was so kindly treated, and 
 liked Santa Barbara so well, that he did not get back to 
 the Dos Pueblos until Thursday night. 
 
 Being a little superstitious about starting on a Friday, 
 it was arranged that on Saturday morning we should bid 
 adieu to the hospitable roof of my protector. I was not 
 sorry for this respite, for I knew I should feel many a pang 
 at parting with the Doctor's little children, who were very 
 much attached to Paisano, as they called me, and I really 
 loved them, particularly my little favorite, Alfo7jso. I 
 knew that he would miss me, for I was always the confi- 
 dant "of his little childish sorrows, and he would have no 
 one to go with him into the mountains, and carry him over 
 the brooks, and make little boats and shoot quail for him. 
 Then, too, there was smiling little Nicolas, Guillermo, and 
 Alfredo, who used to run to Paisano every morning to get 
 him to help them hunt the new-laid eggs. Poor little 
 innocents ! May they never be scathed* by the sirocco 
 breath which first introduced them to their wandering 
 friend. 
 
 At length the hour of parting came. On Saturday 
 morning, the 14th day of February, everything was got in 
 readiness for the start. It was a wild and wintry day, but 
 time was everything to me, and start I must. Two of the 
 Doctor's finest horses, for our relays, had been in some 
 time, resting for the journey, and a guide had been provid- 
 ed, whose name was Jose Lope%. He was to accompany 
 us the first three hundred miles. In case of trouble from 
 arrest on the road, I was provided by the Doctor with a 
 letter to the district judge, Don Joaquin Carrillo, who 
 was then in San Luis Obispo, which would, as far as his 
 authority was concerned, have insured me, at least, fair 
 play. We were also to be accompanied, on our first day's 
 
Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 171 
 
 journey, to the Mission of Santa Ines, by the Rev. Father 
 F. C. Rubio, who was chief in control at the Mission, and 
 was at that time on a visit to Doctor Den. The good Pa- 
 dre made a short prayer for our safe return to our friends 
 and my speedy deliverance from all my troubles, and we 
 were then ready. 
 
 I kissed each of the little children, and shook Doiia 
 Rosa warmly by the hand. I then shook hands with all 
 the servants, and presented to ''''Juan de Dios " a little 
 mare which was unfit for the journey. I had bought her 
 some three months before, from a German, forthe sake of the 
 saddle and bridle that were on her. The Doctor and I 
 then walked to the gate, and I must confess that I could 
 not keep back the tears which were streaming down my 
 face. The rest of the party had started, and, as I was 
 about to mount, I desired to express to Doctor Den my 
 appreciation of his great goodness and the everlasting 
 debt of gratitude I owed him, but my heart was too full, 
 and the words stuck in my throat. All that was in me of 
 my mother gained the ascendency, and I could not articu- 
 late. The Doctor bade me desist, and told me he wanted 
 no thanks. He then, in a few words, gave me some good 
 advice about my future course in life, and, murmuring 
 "God bless you!" I waved my hand to him and his and 
 rode after my companions, who were already some hun- 
 dreds of yards on the road. 
 
 The Father Rubio appeared to have taken quite a liking 
 to my friend Reese. He had ascertained that he was a 
 Catholic, and, being himself from old Spain, he thought it 
 was a rare thing to find one of his own religion among the 
 Americans. We cantered on as comfortably as we could 
 in such weather, smoking our cigars and chatting with the 
 old Padre, and, without anything of interest occurring, com- 
 menced, about twelve o'clock, M.,to cross the mountain 
 of Santa Ynez. It was raining very hard, and the trail, bad 
 enough in the dry season, was now rendered very slippery, 
 and in some places dangerous. The crossing occupied 
 about two hours, and was very trying to our animals. The 
 Father and myself rode the entire distance, but no gibes 
 nor coaxing could induce the Captain to venture it. And 
 indeed I do not blame him. To any one unaccustomed to 
 
172 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 such traveling, it seemed foolhardy in the extreme to risk 
 one's neck on such a road. I had ridden it once before, at 
 night, and considering that I ought, after that, to be willing 
 to try it by daylight, I would not dismount, though, I con- 
 fess, at times I felt by no means certain of safely reaching 
 the other side. Reese frequently walked, and led his horse, 
 until we reached the plain on the other side. We arrived 
 at the Mission of Santa Ines, at the foot of the mountain, 
 about two o'clock, p. m. We had ridden twenty-two 
 miles. 
 
 Father Rubio had a good dinner provided for us while 
 we dried ourselves by a roaring fire, and we soon were 
 making ourselves very comfortable over the Padre's excel- 
 lent California wine. As the weather was very tempes- 
 tuous, and our guide wanted to procure an extra horse at 
 the college farm, distant about three miles, we deter- 
 mined to remain where we were till the next day. Every- 
 thing about this Mission, except the old church building, 
 is in a state of sad decay. There are still there, however, 
 the vestiges of fine improvements built by the Indians in 
 the palmy days of the Church in California; and I observed, 
 among other things, the ruins of what was once a splendid 
 aqueduct built of brick, and the shattered remnants of an 
 extensive grist-mill. At a distance, however, the general 
 appearance of the Mission of Santa Ines is still imposing, 
 and it is only upon a nearer approach that the marks of 
 ruin become painfully apparent. There is still a splendid 
 domain, containing many leagues of land, connected with 
 the Mission. It is the property of the Church, and under 
 the supervision of Archbishop Alemany, whose agent is 
 Doctor Nicholas A. Den. 
 
 There is also a school here, for boys, under the manage- 
 ment of a Mr. Campbell, formerly of Philadelphia. There 
 were but twelve scholars in it, however, at the time of our 
 visit. Three of them were nephews of the Hon. Pablo 
 De la Guerra, and three of them sons of the Mrs. Robbins 
 from whom, it will be remembered, I obtained food when 
 starving back of Santa Barbara. The boys all spoke 
 English with but slight Spanish accent, and when the little 
 fellows discovered that I was the wanderer of whom they 
 had heard, they were untiring in their efforts to please 
 me. 
 
Nan-at'ive of Edward McGowan 173 
 
 On Sunday, the fifteenth, after the Padre had finished 
 the morning services in the chapel, he gave me a letter to 
 the Mission of San Juan, in Monterey County, in case I 
 should need assistance when I got there, and after dinner 
 we departed for "Los Alamos. " A great part of the road 
 was very bad, and it rained hard the entire distance. Just 
 as night set in, we arrived, very cold and wet, at our des- 
 tination. Alighting, we sent in, by the guide, the letter with 
 which Don Antonio De la Guerra had furnished Captain 
 Reese, and presently we were ushered into a very com- 
 fortable apartment, where a bright fire was blazing, and 
 were introduced to the family, which, including children 
 and grandchildren, numbered some twenty-six persons. 
 At this place we were treated very hospitably. After sup- 
 per, one of the family played and sung for us, and when 
 we were shown to our room, we discovered that the lady 
 of the house had surrendered her own to us, as being pro- 
 bably the most comfortable she had. Several Americans 
 were about the place, and, partly on this account, and be- 
 cause we wished to make San Luis Obispo in one ride, 
 distance about fifty miles, we left the next morning with- 
 out stopping to take coffee. We breakfasted as we rode 
 along, on pinole and California cheese, a supply of which 
 the guide appeared to have had ever since he left the col- 
 lege farm at Santa Ines. 
 
 About noon we stopped at a place called the Guadalupe 
 Ranch, and dined on jerked beef, without bread or salt. We 
 rested about an hour, and again took the road. Owing to 
 the misfortune of being led the wrong road by our guide, 
 we did not reach San Luis Obispo that night, but were 
 compelled to stop some ten miles short of that place, long 
 after dark, hungry, wet, and weary, at the ranch of a gen- 
 tleman of the name of John Price, Esq. This gentleman 
 has been in the country some thirty years. Owing to the 
 lateness of the hour, and our being strangers to him, it was 
 some time before he would consent to accommodate us for 
 the night. Finally, by dint of persuasion, and telling over 
 the names of my friends among the old Californians, with 
 whom he was acquainted, I succeeded in opening his heart, 
 and he admitted us. He gave us some excellent whisky, 
 good beds, and plenty of grain for our horses. He was 
 
174 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 quite inquisitive as to our business in the lower country, 
 and in reply to his questions we told him that we had come 
 down from San Francisco in the steamer to attend to some 
 business in connection with the sale of some land, but that, 
 being detained till after the steamer had started, we were 
 making the best of our way back by land, having impor- 
 tant matters to attend to at Sacramento before the fourth 
 of March ; which latter part of the story was literally true. 
 After a comfortable night's rest, we partook of an excellent 
 breakfast, and, on offering to pay our host for his accommo- 
 dation, he declined taking recompense for anything, except 
 the barley our horses had eaten. Bidding Mr. Price good 
 by, we resumed our journey, but, owing to rather a late 
 start, did not reach San Luis Obispo until about ten o'clock, 
 
 A. M. 
 
 Remembering that I had been identified in that place 
 on my journey down the country, I did not care to pass 
 through it, and so endeavored to go around by a very rough 
 and hilly road. Observing that our movements were 
 watched, in the outset, by persons about town, we thought 
 it was best that the Captain should ride at once imo the 
 place and purchase some cigars, sardines, etc., and in the 
 event of any one identifying him, to say that we were look- 
 ing for a lost horse. Accordingly, he rode through the 
 town, stopping to make his purchases, and, on joining me on 
 the other side, he said he had been recognized by a man, to 
 whom he had told the story agreed upon, and had no fur- 
 ther trouble. We rode on about two miles farther, when 
 we stopped and turned our horses out to graze, while we 
 sat down on our blankets and enjoyed a luncheon and a 
 smoke. After resting about an hour, we again took the 
 road, and, with nothing further occurring, about the middle 
 of the afternoon reached the rancho of Santa Margarita, 
 distant but twelve miles from San Luis Obispo, where we 
 concluded to stop for the night. This rancho is the prop- 
 erty of Senor Joaquin Estrada. It has been a Mission, 
 but the old building is now used as a sort of restaurant. 
 One of the brothers of our host had married into the De la 
 Guerra family, and, on discovering that we were acquainted 
 with Don Pablo, he treated us with marked hospitality. 
 We had an excellent supper and good beds. At this place 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 175 
 
 I found an Irishman who had seen Reese in Santa Barbara, 
 and I judged from the way he looked at me that he knew 
 me. He talked a great deal about McGowan and his per- 
 secutors. Being pretty well posted on that subject, I joined 
 freely in the conversation, and finally told him that I had 
 seen McGowan at the house of Dr. Den, at which place 
 I understood he had been since leaving Santa Barbara. 
 This appeared to satisfy him that I was not the "ubiqui- 
 tous." Whether he knew me or not was of very little 
 moment, for I felt sure from his conversation that he was 
 an out-and-out anti-Vigilante. He finished the conversa- 
 tion by saying that McGowan could not be the monster he 
 had been represented, or Doctor Den would not have shel- 
 tered him so long as he had done. In this opinion I of 
 course acquiesced, and shortly afterward we all retired for 
 the night. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, we again took up our 
 line of travel, and rode on without stopping until we came 
 to the hot spring mentioned in my journey down the coun- 
 try. Here we halted and took a pleasant bath and lunch- 
 eon. We let our horses feed a short time, while we 
 rested and smoked our cigars, and then rode on as far as 
 the Mission of San Miguel, where we halted for the night. 
 Notwithstanding the Mexican who keeps the place had 
 informed us, before alighting, that there was feed for the 
 horses, when we had unsaddled them we discovered that 
 there was not a particle for them to eat about the premises. 
 Here was a quandary. To turn them loose to graze was 
 out of the question, as the place was infested with a parcel 
 of Indians, who had a trick of stampeding the horses of 
 travelers, for the purpose of getting the reward usually 
 offered for their recovery. It was at this place, I remem- 
 bered, that young Castro had lost a horse in this manner, 
 on the downward journey. I had the horses securely locked 
 up, and then set about trying to buy some corn for them 
 from the Indians. I managed, after hard work, to induce 
 an old Indian to sell me a dollar's worth, by bribing him 
 with a drink of brandy. This was but short allowance for 
 four tired horses, but we were compelled to be contented 
 with it. 
 
 The fellow who kept this place was a surly brute, and 
 
176 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 evidently mistook us for robbers. When we first ali^rhted, 
 the members of the household, including several seFwritas, 
 were assembled in the main building, but, on seeing us, he 
 drove them at once out of sight. Having distributed their 
 scanty allowance among the horses, we entered the house 
 and sat down to a miserable supper, which we attempted 
 to wash down with some villainous claret. After supper, 
 we were shown to a kind of cell in the old building, where, 
 on dirty beds, we passed a most uncomfortable night. As 
 soon as it was light, I arose and went out with the guide 
 among the Indians, to endeavor to procure some more corn 
 for the horses. For some time my efforts were unsuccess- 
 ful. I showed them money, but they said they did not care 
 for any of it; they had no corn to sell. I had a bottle of 
 good brandy left, and, traveling at that season of the year, I 
 would not have parted with it for five dollars. Neverthe- 
 less, if money would not do, the brandy had to go, rather 
 than the horses should go unfed. My eye fell on a good- 
 looking young Indian leaning against a door-post, and list- 
 lessly looking at us. I asked him, in Spanish, if he would 
 not like a drink of cognac. He replied, " Very much"; 
 whereupon I told him if he would get me the corn I would 
 give him the bottle, and pay him besides. He entered the 
 house, and, after a noisy altercation with an old hag, return- 
 ed with a scrape half-filled with corn and acorns. I gave 
 him the bottle and some silver, and he and an old Indian, 
 who appeared to be his father, finished the liquor in two 
 drinks. We then bought some sardines from the Mexican 
 who kept the place, and left it in extreme disgust. I can- 
 not conscientiously advise any one who may travel that 
 road to stop at the rancho of San Miguel. The cross- 
 grained varlet who keeps it is but a poor specimen of a 
 California Boniface. He not only charges three prices for 
 all that he sells, but treats his guests all the time as if by 
 so doing he was conferring an immense favor on them. 
 
 After riding some eight or ten miles, we came to a small 
 stream, which, in order to cross, we were obliged to swim. 
 Here we found several parties encamped on both sides of 
 the stream. They had wagons, and among them were sev- 
 eral women. They had arrived, respectively, from the 
 north and south the previous night, and had waited until 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 177 
 
 morning, in the hope that some one would come along and 
 show them the best crossing-place. I told the guide, sup- 
 posing that he was most accustomed to that sort of thing, 
 to go in first, but, being a very timid man, he hesitated. 
 Presently, however, to cut the matter short. Captain Reese 
 plunged in with his horse, and the guide and I following, 
 we all reached the other side in safety. The wagons then 
 followed, but the mules became entangled in the harness in 
 the middle of the stream, and a young Spaniard, who after- 
 wards told me he was from Martinez, on his way to Los 
 Angeles, went to the rescue of the women, and crossed 
 them over safely, one by one, on a fine little mare he had 
 with him. I gave this young fellow a box of sardines and 
 some of our claret, in return for which he treated us to 
 some hot coffee some of his Indians had just made. We 
 unsaddled our horses, and let them feed while we break- 
 fasted and took a smoke. After an hour's rest, we resumed 
 our journey, and traveled without stopping until we reach- 
 ed the rancho of San Benito. We had been told at Santa 
 Margarita that we should find good entertainment at this 
 place, and we were not disappointed. 
 
 The proprietor is Mr. Thomas Watson, an American 
 gentleman who has resided in Monterey County some 
 thirty years, and has a large family of sons and daughters, 
 one of the latter of whom is the wife of E. L. Williams, 
 Esq., county clerk of Monterey. We did not have the 
 pleasure of seeing the proprietor himself, but his son, 
 Thomas Watson, Jr., entertained us very handsomely. 
 Shortly after we entered the house, I saw a gentleman who, 
 I ascertained, was a deputy sheriff of Santa Cruz County, 
 and had been at the ranch several days. Not caring to be 
 much in his company, for reasons which will be understood, 
 and besides, being very weary, I retired early. I had not 
 been asleep long when I was awakened by two men enter- 
 ing the room. One of them, whom I recognized as the 
 Sheriff, had his face blacked. This circumstance puzzled 
 and somewhat alarmed me. At the same time, I heard 
 him remark, " It would be funny if they were to steal my 
 horses, and I am to leave to-morrow." Presently he 
 washed his face, and he and his companion again went out. 
 I lay awake for some time, wondering what the blacking of 
 
 H* 
 
178 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 his face could mean, but finally coming to the conclusion 
 that it probably had no connection with me, yet still very 
 curious as to the mystery, I fell asleep. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning, we were informed 
 that the Sheriff, who was on his way to Santa Cruz, two 
 days' journey on the road we were traveling, would embrace 
 the opportunity of having company and ride with us. I 
 did not like the idea much, as the face-blacking of the pre- 
 vious night was still unexplained. I was fearful that he 
 was on the lookout for me, but had as yet failed to identify 
 me. I knew that a letter had been very foolishly written 
 from Santa Barbara to San Francisco, to an indiscreet 
 friend there, apprising him of my intended journey to the 
 capital, and I feared that he would inform every one of the 
 fact, and thus, perhaps, unintentionally have me intercepted. 
 Indeed, I afterward discovered that he had circulated the 
 news far and wide, but, fortunately, those who ought not to 
 have known it did not believe it, a statement having ap- 
 peared about that time, in the San Francisco Herald^ that 
 a passenger, recently arrived in a ship from Canton, had 
 seen me in that place. I presumed, if the Committee con- 
 templated capturing me, that between this point and Stock- 
 ton would be the most likely place they would undertake 
 it. Therefore, considering everything, I felt by no means 
 pleased at this addition to our company. There was noth- 
 ing for it, however, but to ride off boldly with the Sheriff, 
 which we did. 
 
 Happily, however, we had not gone far before my appre- 
 hensions were relieved. The Sheriff, who proved to be a 
 very pleasant, companionable man, accounted for the mys- 
 tery of the previous night by telling me he had been en- 
 gaged with the young ladies in a game called "smut," and 
 having been beaten, had submitted to the penalty and had 
 his face blacked. This gentleman's name is Charles Wil- 
 liams, Esq. , and he is a brother of the above-mentioned 
 county clerk. We had, that day, a very pleasant ride, and 
 arrived early in the afternoon at the Mision Soledad, 
 where we halted for the night. I recognized the keeper of 
 this place, whom I had not seen on my way down. His 
 name was Harris, and he was formerly bartender at the 
 Willows," a resort well known to San Franciscans. He 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 179 
 
 did not know me, however, I was so much altered, having 
 lost forty pounds of flesh since he had last seen me. He 
 desired us to register our names in his book, and I wrote 
 mine as"Samuel Chapman." I procured from him writing 
 materials, and addressed a letter to a gentleman at Mon- 
 terey, named Charles Harron, Esq., an old Philadelphia 
 friend, informing him of my journey to the capital. I knew 
 that he was discreet, and my only object in writing was to 
 have the pleasure of once more communicating with an old 
 friend. 
 
 We were very comfortably quartered at the Soledad, 
 and the next morning, after breakfast, prepared to renew 
 our journey. We were told, before starting, that, a few 
 miles from the Mission, we should come to a stream which, 
 at that season, was impassable, owing to the quicksands, 
 unless we were fortunate enough to find an old Indian who 
 lived about there, and induce him to show us the firm foot- 
 ing. Both the Sheriff and Harris were of the opinion that 
 we had better go another road, which was thirty miles 
 longer, the chances being against our finding the Indian. 
 As thirty miles, however, was a great item to tired horses, 
 I thought it was best to go on to the stream and take the 
 chance of finding the Indian. After some consultation, this 
 plan was adopted, and we started for the stream, where we 
 were fortunate enough to find the Indian, and at last, by 
 dint of silver and coaxing, and, above all, some whisky, we 
 were safely landed on the opposite bank. 
 
 Here we found a party of travelers with wagons, wait- 
 ing for some one to guide them across the river. Some 
 horsemen were riding in front of the wagons, armed with 
 rifles, and for a moment I fancied that they might be my 
 old friends the Vigilantes, and prepared for an attack. I 
 soon saw, however, that one of the wagons contained a 
 woman, and was reassured as to the character of the party. 
 The Sheriff was acquainted with one of them, and stopped 
 a moment to converse, while I rode on. I learned, when 
 he rejoined us, that they were on their way to the lower 
 country to purchase brood-mares, intending to take them 
 through Mexico to Texas, and that they hoped to accom- 
 plish the trip in one hundred days. The animals can be 
 procured at very low prices on this side, and, if safely got 
 
180 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 through the journey, command a handsome profit. At noon 
 we stopped to eat something and let our horses graze. As 
 we were now within thirty miles of San Juan, in the Salinas 
 Plains, up to which point the Sheriff knew the road well, 
 and beyond it we did not need a guide, I determined here 
 to dispatch Josi^ back to Doctor Den. Accordingly, I gave 
 him a letter for the Doctor, letting him know how we got 
 on, and, taking with him two of the horses, the guide 
 started back. 
 
 After he had gone, the Sheriff loaned me one of his fresh 
 horses, and we galloped on our journey. We stopped at 
 one or two places to get water, one of which was the 
 ranch of the Mexican who had been so near being shot for 
 a deserter, at whose house, it will be remembered, I passed 
 a night on my journey from San Francisco. His wife rec- 
 ognized me, but he did not till he saw her smile at me, and 
 then he, too, remembered me. He asked me many ques- 
 tions, and I told him that since he had seen me I had been 
 in Mexico. I doubted, however, from his looks, whether he 
 believed the story. It mattered little, however, for, of 
 course, he was ignorant of my name, and we stayed- but a 
 few moments at his door. After riding a few miles farther, 
 we came to a place called the Canada Ve?rle, where, to 
 oblige the Sheriff, we stopped a little while to give him an 
 opportunity to see a friend on business. This gentleman 
 was the judge of the plains, and I knew him the moment 
 I saw him. It was Don Manuel A. Castro. He had rep- 
 resented San Luis Obispo, the previous year, in the legis- 
 lature, and it was at the capital I had seen him. As he 
 did not recognize me, however, I did not accost him. 
 
 A few miles farther on, we came to the store of Mr. 
 Johnstone, where we halted for the night. This gentleman 
 came to California during the war, as a member of Colonel 
 Stevenson's regiment. I had known him before, when he 
 was employed in the office of P. K. Woodside, Esq. , at that 
 time clerk of the supreme court. He did not appear to 
 recognize me, however, and I did not, that night, make my- 
 self known to him, although I knew he was a Democrat 
 of the right stripe, and had no fears as to his discretion. 
 
 We were very comfortably accommodated at this place, 
 and in the morning, as we were about to start, I paid all the 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 181 
 
 bill, including the Sheriff's, who had so kindly loaned me 
 his horse, and who I knew, having been some time absent 
 from home, had paid away his last dollar at the Soledad. 
 Here the Sheriff was to part from us, he being within a 
 few miles of his home, and our roads lying from this point 
 in different directions. Accordingly, we bid him Godspeed 
 and saw him off. As I was about mounting, I observed 
 Johnstone eyeing me very closely. He seemed to know 
 me, and yet was in uncertainty where he had seen me. He 
 had a bottle of whisky in his hand, which I suspected he 
 wanted to give me. Knowing that it would be perfectly 
 safe, I at length asked him if he did not know me. He said 
 he knew me very well, but could not for his life say who I 
 was. I told him, and he seized my hand and pressed it 
 very hard. He asked me why I had not stopped at his 
 place on my way down the coast. Dennison, with v^hom 
 I then was, had been a fellow-soldier with him, and had 
 stopped at his door, where I took a drink, but did not dis- 
 mount, and hence he had not recognized me. He gave me 
 the bottle of whisky, and, wishing me a safe journey, savi^ 
 me off. 
 
 It was Sunday morning, and, as we approached the town 
 of San Juan, we thought it safer, as many persons would 
 probably be there from the country, not to pass through 
 the place. So we avoided it by a mountain-road to the 
 right, and sent the letter which the Father Rubio had 
 given us, to the priest at the Mission, by a man whom we 
 found cutting wood, and who told us he knew him. A few 
 miles farther brought us to the Pacheco Pass, through 
 which we were to strike into the interior, and shape our 
 course in a northeasterly direction for Stockton. At the 
 foot of the mountain, we saw a small ranch, and, on being 
 informed by some women, whom we saw gathering mush- 
 rooms, that we could get quarters for ourselves and horses 
 for the night, we concluded to finish here our day's ride. 
 
 The person who kept this place looked familiar to me, 
 and I soon identified him as a stage-driver I had known on 
 the road between San Francisco and San Jose, named 
 Harper. He and his partner had each married a French- 
 woman, and settled down in this romantic spot, where they 
 were farming and raising a few stock. We had a good 
 
182 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 supper and comfortable lodging, and started early the next 
 morning, before breakfast, to cross the mountain by the Pa- 
 checo Pass. It is seven miles over the pass, and the road 
 is perfectly good and passable for wagons at all seasons of 
 the year. It was constructed by a Mr. Firebaugh, under 
 a franchise granted him, for a term of years, by the legis- 
 lature, for that purpose. He has the privilege of keeping 
 a toll-gate, which is situated at his house on the summit. 
 About a mile and a half from the gate, we met Mr, Fire- 
 baugh in company with a vs^orkman, superintending some 
 repairs in the road. We paid him our toll, and asked him 
 if we could be accommodated with breakfast at the house. 
 He told us that his wife would prepare some for us, and 
 accordingly, on reaching the summit, we stopped. Here 
 we saw Mrs. Firebaugh with her little son. She had ap- 
 parently just arisen, and the Captain and I were both 
 struck with her singular beauty and ladylike deportment. 
 I could not help wondering how a lady so charming could 
 content herself in so wild and out-of-the-way a place as 
 the Pacheco Pass. I should infer, however, from what lit- 
 tle I observed of her, that she is one of those rate and 
 precious gifts, in the shape of woman, whose happiness is 
 in her husband and whose paradise is his home. We in- 
 formed her of what her husband had said about the break- 
 fast, but at the same time declined to trouble her. The fire 
 was not yet made, and before she should have put herself 
 to the trouble of making it for me, I would have dispensed 
 with breakfast every day for a week. She set before us a 
 bottle of excellent whisky, of which we partook, but she 
 declined receiving any pay. I gave her little son a small 
 piece of money, and, bidding her good morning, we re- 
 sumed our journey. After riding about tw^elve miles, we 
 came to a large unfinished frame house. The people about 
 this place appeared to be a mixture of French and Span- 
 iards. I identified one of them as a San Francisco French- 
 man, but he did not know me. I imagine he was but a visi- 
 tor there. Here we took breakfast, and, again mounting, 
 rode on until we came to Hill's Ferry, on the San Joaquin 
 River, where we found a very good hotel, and stopped for 
 the night. At this place we fell in with a tall, cadaverous- 
 looking old fellow, who I judged, from his conversation, to 
 
Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 183 
 
 be a squatter. He was accompanied by a young lad, and 
 he told me they were looking out for a place to "locate." 
 He said he had lived in the valley of San Jose. They 
 were traveling on foot, with one pack-animal. He had 
 been a lawyer, he told me, and I should judge by his ap- 
 pearance and sanctified twang he had been a preacher too. 
 After conversing with us some time, he and the lad made 
 their bed on the floor, and we retired to our room. After 
 an early breakfast the next morning, we resumed our jour- 
 ney, intending, if possible, to reach the city of Stockton that 
 night, but forty miles distant. It rained and stormed 
 dreadfully,, however, and, after riding about twenty miles, 
 we were fain to ask shelter at a neat little cottage we 
 espied on the roadside. This house was kept by a young 
 Welshman and his wife, who lived very comfortably, and 
 were surrounded by a family of pretty little children. 
 The gentleman's name is Griffith. We were hospitably 
 welcomed, and a large fire was soon made for us, at which 
 we dried our clothes and blankets. We found here an old 
 gentleman named Major James Martin Lewis, familiarly 
 known in that neighborhood as "Uncle Jemmy Lewis." 
 He is a brother of Colonel Joel Lewis, so well and favor- 
 ably known to the citizens of Sacramento. This old gen- 
 tleman, I have since learned, has lived seventy years, and 
 had served as a sergeant under General Jackson during 
 the Creek War. He was gazetted by that veteran for his 
 gallantry in being the first man on the enemy's ramparts 
 at the famous battle of the Horseshoe. He knew me, 
 though I did not recognize him, I suppose he called me 
 to mind from the circumstance of my having once acted as 
 the friend of his nephew. Doctor Dickson, of Mississippi, 
 in an unfortunate affair of honor, in which that gentleman 
 fell. I did not know, until after starting the next day, that 
 the old gentleman had recognized me. I entered freely 
 into conversation with Mrs. Griffith, and found her very 
 intelligent, and not a little inquisitive. She asked me why 
 I had not stopped at a large hotel we had passed after 
 leaving Hill's Ferry. I replied, that I always preferred 
 to stop where there was a lady, because I invariably found 
 the accommodations better and neater. She looked very 
 knowingly at me, and told me that my dress and language 
 
184 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 did not correspond, and that for some reason I was travel- 
 ing in disguise. I thought this was very strange, not 
 knowing at the time that "Uncle Jemmy" had told them 
 who I was, and, making some joking reply, I changed the 
 conversation. I also met at this place a gentleman of the 
 name of Judge Seneca Dean. He is an uncle of Mrs. Ju- 
 lia Dean Hayne, the actress. At the table, the conversa- 
 tion turned upon the "ubiquitous" Judge McGowan, 
 Judge Dean stated that McGowan had been pointed out 
 to him once in San P>ancisco. At this I observed a sly 
 smile on the face of mischievous Mrs. Griffith. I, however, 
 looked them full in the face, and continued my dinner as 
 though McGowan was a personage in whom I felt no in- 
 terest whatever. I told Judge Dean that I had business 
 with the legislature, and he gave me a letter to the mem- 
 ber from Stanislaus, in which county we then were. In 
 this letter he mentioned no name, but simply commended 
 the bearer to the gentleman to whom it was written. 
 
 It rained incessantly all that day and night, and the next 
 day, at twelve o'clock, we started for Stockton. I saw two 
 persons approaching the house after I had mounted, and 
 rode off first, to avoid observation. Presently I was over- 
 taken by Captain Reese, who told me that, just as he was 
 leaving. Uncle Jemmy had said to him. Young man, that 
 is Judge McGowan. I know it is. Don't tell me any lies 
 about it. I am his friend, and if danger threatens him, let 
 him come back here. 1 've a good double-barreled shot- 
 gun, and zve ' II protect him!'" 
 
 Reese laughed, and, bidding the gallant old fellow good 
 by, rode away. I now understood the remarks of good 
 Mrs. Grifiith and Judge Dean. 
 
 Stockton was now but twenty-two miles off, and, notwith- 
 standing the roads were very bad, and it was raining very 
 hard, we determined, if possible, to reach it that night. We 
 pushed on without stopping until we got to French Camp, 
 Up to this point we had been enabled to travel at a pretty 
 fair rate, but in traversing the five miles which intervened 
 between it and Stockton, so wretched was the road that we 
 were occupied full three hours. At length, some time after 
 dark, wet, weary, and cold, we rode into the good city of Stock- 
 ton, and I felt, after nine months of pilgrimage and banishment, 
 that I was once more really mingling with my fellow-men. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Once more to view those old familiar haunts, 
 Round which, in memory, I have lingered. 
 Were a joy, and yet a joy not all untinged with grief. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 On entering the town, Reese met a person with whom 
 he was acquainted, and I requested him to inquire for the 
 residence of Samuel Brooks, Esq., the county treasurer of 
 San Joaquin County. I had not the pleasure of an inti- 
 mate personal acquaintance with Mr. Brooks, but I knew 
 enough of his character to believe that, under the circum- 
 stances which then surrounded me, I might safely trust my 
 life in his keeping. He was, however, spared the annoy- 
 ance of my visit, for Reese was informed that he was absent 
 in San Francisco. 
 
 My next inquiry was for Col. John O'Neal, the county 
 clerk. That gentleman soon appeared, and, after congratu- 
 lating me on my safe return, conducted us to a good place 
 to stable our horses. He then accompanied us to the room 
 of one of his friends, and very kindly sent out and had a 
 warm supper prepared and brought to us, which was very 
 acceptable, as we had eaten but one meal that day. Many 
 of my friends who resided in Stockton were now informed 
 of my arrival, and before we retired for the night I was 
 visited by several of them. I cannot convey any idea of 
 the gratification I felt at finding myself congratulated and 
 sympathized with by some of the first men of the state, not- 
 withstanding the continuous stream of vilification and slan- 
 der that had been poured over my name during my volun- 
 tary exile. It was to me a harbinger of happier days, 
 [H] 185 
 
186 Nai-rat'we of Edward McGowan 
 
 and an assurance that not only my individual troubles were 
 about ending, but that there still existed in the minds of the 
 true men of the state sufficient respect for the constitution 
 and our laws to render their supremacy in the land once 
 more certain^ and that at no distant day. 
 
 The next morning, I was visited by the Hon. Charles M. 
 Creaner, district judge of that judicial district. He was 
 very glad to see me safely returned to stand my trial, and 
 when, in the course of our conversation, I asked him if he 
 was not afraid, on account of his position, that he might be 
 compromised by visiting me under such peculiar circum- 
 stances, "Sir," said he, "if I am to be compromised by 
 extending the hand of sympathy to one who has been bar- 
 barously hunted by bloodhounds, the sooner the better." 
 Such a sentiment, fervently expressed by such a man, in- 
 fused new life into me. Personally, I was a comparative 
 stranger to Judge Creaner. Although both of us were 
 members of the same political party, we had sympathized 
 and acted with opposite wings of that party, and there was 
 very little more in common between us politically than, 
 from our slight acquaintance, there had been personally. 
 When, therefore, I contrasted this language of the high- 
 toned Judge with the pitiful cowardice, meanness, and in- 
 gratitude of some of myyr/VW.f, into whose nostrils I had 
 blown the breath of political life, I could not but painfully 
 learn and bitterly digest the lesson I was thus taught in 
 human nature. The Judge, on learning my intention to 
 proceed to Sacramento for the purpose of endeavoring to 
 procure the passage of a law by which I might be safely 
 and fairly tried under my indictment, very kindly furnished 
 me with a letter to the Hon. A. R. Meloney, the senator 
 from that district, and, after a most agreeable visit, took 
 his leave. 
 
 I remained in Stockton the whole of that day, and, before 
 leaving the next morning (Friday, the 27th of February), I 
 mailed a letter to the San Francisco Herald. Knowing 
 that my arrival in Stockton would certainly be known and 
 published in San Francisco, I thought, by way of an item 
 of news, I might as well let my friends of the Herald have 
 it in advance. Indeed, the day after I left Stockton, 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 187 
 
 the following notice of my arrival in that city was published 
 in the San Joaquin Republican: — 
 
 On Wednesday evening last, Edward McGowan arrived in this 
 city from Santa Barbara, overland, by the way of San Joaquin Valley, 
 and left again yesterday morning. From a gentleman who conversed 
 with him, we learn that he is in excellent health and spirits, although 
 not so fleshy as formerly. He narrated at length his hairbreadth 
 escapes from the Vigilantes, and stated that he frequently found him- 
 self hard pressed by the enemy, and was often compelled to change 
 his hiding-places, in the vicinity of Santa Barbara, from which city 
 he had not been distant, during his seclusion from the public gaze, 
 more than thirty or forty miles. 
 
 He also stated that the letter written with gunpowder, and pub- 
 lished in the San Francisco Herald, was a genuine document. He 
 sent a Californian into Santa Barbara — distance seventeen miles from 
 his rendezvous — for a bottle of ink; on the way back, the messenger 
 broke the bottle, compelling him to use gunpowder and water as a 
 substitute. Ned was much chagrined because of his inability to vote 
 for Buchanan and Breckinridge at the last Presidential election. He 
 had cut the ticket out of a stray copy of a Democratic paper, but, owing 
 to circumstances over which he had no control, he was prevented 
 from depositing it in the ballot-box. He still wears — and always has 
 worn- — the famous mustache, by which he is easily recognized; the 
 white hat, however, has been laid aside for a black one. We have 
 received the above information from a gentleman of well-known 
 veracity. 
 
 My letter to the Herald, as will be perceived, was noth- 
 ing more than an outburst of fun, suggested by the high 
 spirits I was in on account of the kindness of my friends 
 in Stockton. The following is a copy: — 
 
 Stockton, Feb. 27th, 1857, 
 Five o'clock, a. m. 
 Editor San Francisco Herald: — 
 
 Sir, — I arrived at this place the day before yesterday, from the 
 ^^ Celestial Empire,'''' by the overland route — ^uia: the Sandwich 
 Islands, Santa Barbara City, Santa Ynez, Pacheco's Pass, &c. Had 
 rather a pleasant passage, only it rained all the way — swimming a 
 few rivers, &c. I made this trip in the short space of twelve days. 
 During my sojovirn in this city, I have been the guest of the elite of [the] 
 place — had a public dinner, and the freedom of the city tendered to 
 me, all of which I was forced most respectfully to decline, as prior 
 engagements at the " capital" precluded the possibility of my accept- 
 ing them. 
 
 I have been invited by the legislature to deliver a series of lectures 
 before them, previous to their final adjournment. The subjects — 
 
188 Nai-rative of Edward McGowan 
 
 "Higher Law," "Soft Pork," "Sour Flour," and the morality of 
 the Chiefs of the "Chokers" g-enerally. 
 
 I contemplate holding a le^^ee at the "Magnolia Hotel" on 
 Sunday, the first of March next, at ten, a. m., and if any of the 
 "purest and best " in your "city of blood" and "solvent (?) mer- 
 chants" still have a curiosity to see the "white hat" which covers 
 the head of the "ubiquitous" undersigned, they can be gratified by 
 appearing, at the time and place above mentioned. 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 Edward McGovvan. 
 
 After dispatchino; the above, we bid our friends good 
 by, and turned our horses' heads in the direction of Sacra- 
 mento. For the first six miles, the road lay through a lake 
 of water, formed by the recent heavy rains, and in many 
 places it came up to the horses' flanks. We saw no one 
 until we had got through this, but, on striking the dry road 
 again, we met a woman on horseback, and alone. She 
 inquired as to the condition of the road, and I explained 
 it to her, advising her, at the same time, to turn back, as it 
 was very doubtful whether she could find it, covered as it 
 was with water. She replied, that she was obliged to go 
 to Stockton at all hazards, and see a magistrate, andnhere- 
 upon unbosomed herself of her sorrows to me. It appeared 
 that she was a victim of the "green-eyed monster," and 
 some recent pranks of her faithless lord had resolved her 
 to seek redress of some sort at law. I endeavored to com- 
 fort her, but in vain, and, heedless of my information as to 
 the road, she pushed resolutely on toward Stockton. 
 
 After riding but a short distance farther, we came to 
 Wood's Ferry, where we stopped to feed our horses and 
 dine. I related the incident of the poor woman to the lady 
 of the house, who knew her, and gave me some additional 
 particulars as to her case. We had a hearty laugh at the 
 expense of the poor, neglected lady, though, as is too often 
 the case, that which was a source of merriment to us was 
 doubtless a sore grievance to her. 
 
 At this place we met Mr. John Hodges, a partner of 
 Judge Terry in the proprietorship of "Terry and Hodges' 
 Mills," which, as many will remember, were burned down 
 while Judge Terry was imprisoned by the Vigilance Com- 
 mittee. After dinner he pressed us to accompany him to 
 his home and pass the night. As we did not care to reach 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 189 
 
 Sacramento till Saturday night, we accepted his kind invi- 
 tation, and accordingly set out for the mill, which is some 
 ten miles off the road, and situated on the Mokelumne 
 River. On arriving at the crossing-place near the mill, we 
 found that the water had risen so much that it was idle to 
 attempt to ford the river, and so remained on the side 
 where we were, and found lodgings with some young friends 
 of Mr. Hodges, who treated us very kindly, refusing any 
 compensation for their hospitality. 
 
 In the morning we mounted our horses, and, bidding fare- 
 well to our hosts, commenced the last day's ride of our 
 weary pilgrimage. We rode on without stopping or meet- 
 ing with anything of interest until we came to the ranch of 
 Mr. Thomas Harrigan, the proprietor of the Centerville 
 Race-course, a few miles from Sacramento. Here we 
 concluded that it was advisable to halt and get some infor- 
 mation as to how matters stood before venturing into the 
 city. We found everything all right, however; for my 
 friend Harrigan, who was delighted to see me, informed us 
 that friends were prepared for our arrival, having been 
 expecting it for several days. Accordingly, after partaking 
 of a hearty supper, we again mounted, and, shortly after 
 night, rode into the capital. We put up our horses at a 
 livery-stable, and repaired at once to the Magnolia Hotel. 
 I immediately sent for Mr. Charles T. Botts, a lawyer of 
 eminence in Sacramento, and engaged his professional ser- 
 vices. A writ of habeas corpus was prepared, to be sued 
 out in case the sheriff of San Francisco, hearing of my 
 arrival, should be compelled, in the discharge of his duty, 
 to come to Sacramento to arrest me, and preparations were 
 made to draft such a bill, to be introduced into the legisla- 
 ture, as would meet the circumstances of my case. 
 
 These steps being taken, about eleven o'clock I went 
 with some friends to the bar of the Magnolia to drink, and, 
 though I saw dozens of familiar faces around me, I was 
 not recognized by one. Every one took me for a ragged 
 old miner just come in from "the diggings." It was soon 
 known, however, that I had arrived, and I was visited by 
 swarms of friends. I did not get to bed that night until 
 three o'clock. I arose early in the morning, and, placing 
 myself in charge of my good friend William Williamson, 
 
190 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 Esq., I proceeded at once to a clothing-store, and dressed 
 myself in a full suit of decent apparel, and in the course of 
 the morning a friend sent me a present of a very stylish 
 WHITE HAT, which 1 immediately donned, and felt that 
 Richard was himself again.'" 
 
 It was thought advisable that on that day (Sunday) I 
 should see as many of my friends as possible, and make the 
 acquaintance of those new members whom I did not know, 
 in order that I might tell them my story, and my reasons 
 for asking the passage of the law which was being prepared. 
 Accordingly, I remained in my room, holding a sort of levee^ 
 and my friends must have brought nearly a thousand per- 
 sons to see me. I stated my case to those on whose power 
 I was compelled to rely, and had every reason to believe 
 that my application would not be made to the legislature 
 in vain. That night, I thought it prudent to leave the 
 hotel, lest the officers of San P^rancisco should arrive late, 
 and a hearing of the writ (it being Sunday) could not be 
 obtained. Accordingly, I went with a friend to a retired 
 part of the city, letting but few know the place of my 
 retreat. On awaking the next morning, I inquired for the 
 San Francisco papers, being desirous of seeing how my 
 return to the upper regions suited my Vigilante friends, 
 and one of the first things that met my eye was the follow- 
 ing, from the Toivn Talk of Sunday, March 1st: — 
 
 Ned McGowan Redivivus ! — The ubiquitous Ned McGowan 
 turned up yesterday as a topic of conversation, a rumor having- gained 
 currency that he had arrived in Sacramento. The report was received 
 with considerable misgiving by the pubHc, and we hesitated to an- 
 nounce it on the bulletin-board until we could ascertain its source. 
 
 The rumor was pronndgated by a gentleman who arrived from 
 Stockton yesterday morning, stating he saw Ned off for Sacramento 
 from the former city, where he had been residing the past month. 
 The latter portion of the information staggered us — so we sought for 
 more proof. A member of the bar of this city, however, confirmed 
 the report, stating a letter had been received from Ned, giving the 
 motives of his return. This statement has been further confirmed to 
 us by a gentleman who said he read the same, but refused to disclose 
 the recipient's name. A week or so ago, it was currently reported 
 that Ned was on his way to the capital from the southern country, 
 but it was discredited. 
 
 To add to the mystery which surrounds the movements of a man 
 who is said to be in China, at Santa Barbara, in Sonora, on the 
 Plains, and in Philadelphia at one and the same time, we have been 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 191 
 
 assured that a well-known gentleman of this city, famous for his enter- 
 prise, who has been on Ned's track ever since his rumored flight, has 
 indubitable proof that Ned has not been out of the city since, except 
 two weeks, during the Vigilance excitement, and a month since ! 
 His custodian is said to have been a lady of this city, whose friendship 
 for Ned has dated from early childhood. 
 
 The following also appeared in the Democratic State 
 Journal, of Sacramento: — 
 
 The Ubiquitous. — Mr. Edward McGowan, a personage some- 
 what known to fame and the San Francisco Vigilance Committee, 
 arrived in this city last evening, from Stockton. He has, for some 
 nine months, been sojourning in the counties in the southern portion 
 of this state, the assertion that he has been seen, "by persons who 
 knew him well," in Philadelphia, China, and a few other out-of-the- 
 way places, to the contrary notwithstanding. By advice of counsel, 
 he has come to this city, and intends to ask of the legislature the 
 passage of an act to secure to him the rights of a trial by jury in 
 some county where he can have a reasonable chance of obtaining 
 justice, and where the laws are respected. As no confidence can be 
 placed in San Francisco in this respect, an armed mob having entire 
 control of that city, he will not go to that place. We learn that he 
 has been treated with great consideration by those persons who 
 learned the object of his visit to the capital, and no attempt has 
 been made to arrest him. Mr. McGowan is in good health and spir- 
 its, though he is much thinner than he was' previous to his leaving 
 San Francisco, and his dress is decidedly outre. We have no doubt 
 but that the legislature will grant him the constitutional rights that he 
 asks. McGowan has been most of the time in Santa Barbara 
 County. There have been many absurd rumors in reference to the 
 action of the San Francisco Vigilance Committee in this matter, but 
 we place no confidence in them. 
 
 In the mean while, my friend, the San Francisco Bulletin, 
 true to its antecedents, and with its usual decency and 
 good sense, thus uncourteously held forth to the good citi- 
 zens of Sacramento: — 
 
 Ned McGowan, the ubiquitous, has actually arrived in Sacra- 
 mento. This time there is no humbug about it. He puts up at the 
 "Magnolia" Hotel, where, during all of yesterday, he was the center 
 of a large circle of admirers, with the like of whom this city swarms 
 at present. Sacramento at this time resembles one of the old Jew- 
 ish "cities of refuge," where murderers and other criminals could 
 flee for shelter from the avengers of blood. How long this state of 
 things shall continue depends entirely upon the inhabitants them- 
 selves, and of course is no business of the San Franciscans. 
 
 The next day, my counsel, Mr. Botts, set about the draft- 
 ing of a proper bill for my relief, to be introduced into the 
 
192 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 legislature. It was thought, however, on reflection, that a 
 copy of my indictment had better first be procured, in order 
 that the bill might be made to hold water at all points, and 
 exactly meet my case, without the possibility of its object 
 being defeated by any "afterclaps" in the way of techni- 
 cal quibbles. Accordingly, a telegraphic dispatch was sent 
 to a friend in San Francisco, requesting him to go to the 
 office of the county clerk and procure a copy and send 
 it up at once. Lo and behold ! however, it was ascer- 
 tained, on application, that, notwithstanding the indictment 
 had been found ten months previously, there had been filed 
 no such document in the clerk's office of the court in which 
 I was to be tried ! After much diligent inquiry, it was 
 found that the exceedingly scrupulous and careful district 
 attorney of that county, Mr. H. H. Byrne, had actually 
 deposited it in bank, lest, I suppose, some of my friends, in 
 their anxiety for my safety, might steal it from the county 
 clerk, and thus expose his precious carcass to the wrath 
 of his great "bugbear," the Vigilance Committee, of 
 which institution, doubtless for sufficient reasons of his 
 own, he stood in mortal dread. He probably would^ have 
 spared himself this precaution had he known that, attribut- 
 ing my indictment more to his base and selfish cowardice 
 and ingratitude than to a conviction, on the part of the 
 grand jury, that I was guilty, 1 always intended, conscious 
 of my own innocence, to return and be tried whenever I 
 could safely do so. 
 
 After some trouble, the copy was procured and sent up 
 to Sacramento; and the bill being prepared, on the third 
 day of March it was placed in the hands of Gen. Jeffer- 
 son Hunt, of San Bernardino County, one of the most in- 
 fluential members of the assembly, to be by him intro- 
 duced into that body. The bill provided for a change of 
 venue, in my particular case, from the San Francisco to the 
 Sacramento, or sixth, judicial district. On the reading of 
 its title, its introduction was objected to by the entire San 
 Francisco delegation of nine, composed of members of the 
 Vigilance Committee, most of them being Black Republi- 
 cans, and all of them elected in the furor of the mob as- 
 cendency in that city. They were seconded in their 
 objections by all of the Black Republicans on the floor. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 193 
 
 every one of whom was a sympathizer with the Vigilance 
 Committee. The question then became, under the rules, 
 "Shall the bill be rejected?" — upon which the "ayes and 
 noes" were demanded, and it was found that the Democ- 
 racy, who were largely in the majority in the house, with 
 a few exceptions* voted in mass in the negative, while 
 every Black Republican voted the other way. Thus, not- 
 withstanding many of my friends were absent, the rejec- 
 tion of the bill was negatived by a handsome majority. 
 Prior to the putting of the question, the Hon. Gaven D. 
 Hall, member for El Dorado County, and chairman of 
 the judiciary committee, made one of the most able and 
 effective arguments in my behalf that had been heard that 
 session, and I cannot refrain from here returning him 
 my thanks for the same. 
 
 Another, though much lesser light in the legislature, 
 Mr. Patrick, of Tuolumne County, though calling himself 
 a Democrat, made some severe remarks against me, and 
 afterwards put himself to the trouble of having a most 
 scurrilous speech against me published as having been de- 
 livered by him. Those who heard him, however, have 
 only to read the speech to know that he never delivered it. 
 
 * The Democratic State Journal, in commenting upon the proceed- 
 ings the next day, held the following language : — 
 
 Edward McGowan. — A bill was introduced in the assembly 
 yesterday, the effect of which would be to grant Edward McGowan 
 a trial in some county out of San Francisco. There is no doubt 
 that if McGowan were taken to San Francisco he would be seized by 
 the mob and hung, without judge or jury; or, were he to be regu- 
 larly tried there, no jury could be obtained that would not be preju- 
 diced on one side or the other. He desires that his case should he 
 investigated by an impartial jury, and his request ought to be granted. 
 We pity the man who has so little sensibility, or sense of justice, as 
 to vote against the granting of such a reasonable favor. The bitter- 
 est fate that could be desired for him would be that he himself should, 
 by some accidental circumstance, be left to the tender mercies of a 
 mob jury. 
 
 We were sorry to see law-and-order Democrats vote against the 
 measure, influenced thereto, probably, by the fear expressed, that its 
 passage would do injury to their party. Pshaw ! It has long been 
 a household word among us, that "Democracy oppresses no weak- 
 ness, "and was never ashamed to associate with mercy. Besides, it 
 ought not to be considered a party measure, but one which every 
 man, of whatsoever part}^ ought eagerly to approve. 
 I 
 
194 Mandative of Edward McGowan 
 
 The scurrility of it is the only thing about it that bears 
 his mark. The grammar and diction are far superior to 
 anything that was ever heard from him by his fellow-mem- 
 bers. 
 
 What induced this member to put himself out of the 
 way to appear as my especial oppressor, I do not know. I 
 know that I never wronged him in my life. Indeed, I 
 never knew him until I saw him as my enemy, when I 
 was pleading to the legislature for protection from a blood- 
 thirsty mob. I suppose there is only one way to account 
 for his course, and that is, by giving him credit for a most 
 inordinate passion for buncombe.'^ Indeed, his desire to be 
 on the popular side of every question must be very strong, 
 if I am correctly informed; for I understand that when the 
 rebellion first broke out in San PVancisco, as the feeling 
 was rather in favor of law and order in his county, he 
 joined a military company called the Sonora Greys," 
 and also carried his son to their armory, professing his will- 
 ingness to hold himself and his family in readiness to 
 respond to the call of the governor, and shed his blood, if 
 necessary, in support of the laws. The feeling altered, 
 however, in Tuolumne, and when, through the influence of 
 the Vigilance press, the public mind in that section became 
 poisoned, and law and order was no longer popular, the 
 views of Mr. Patrick underwent a sudden change, and he 
 became one of the members from his county in the legis- 
 lature. I am deeply pained to learn that he was defeated, 
 the other day, in Tuolumne County, for the Democratic 
 nomination for sheriff. When such consistent and reliable 
 citizens are willing to enter the public service (which is 
 rarely), the people should by all means improve the oppor- 
 tunity to secure their efficient aid in the administration of 
 the laws, particularly in the high and responsible office of 
 sheriff. 
 
 After this signal defeat of the "reformers," the bill was 
 referred to the judiciary committee of the house. Two 
 days afterward, it was reported back, with an amendment 
 making it a general law, giving to all other citizens the 
 same privilege of moving for a change of venue without 
 personally appearing in court, but leaving with the judges 
 the selection of the districts where their cases were to be 
 
of Edward McGowan 195 
 
 tried. This, of course, contemplated fully as much fair- 
 ness and justice as my case required, and the opponents of 
 my petition being, I suppose, by this time, ashamed of their 
 narrow-mindedness and injustice, took this for an excuse 
 to withdraw their opposition to the bill, and it passed the 
 house without a dissenting voice, as amended by the judi- 
 ciary committee. On the next day the bill was reported 
 to the senate, and the day following a motion was made in 
 that body to suspend the rules and consider it at once. As 
 I desire to state the facts in this narrative as they were, 
 and to do full justice to all, I will here record that Sena- 
 tors Woodworth and Sullivan, both from San Francisco, 
 and elected by the Vigilance Committee, voted with the 
 majority in favor of the motion. So manifest was the 
 necessity and justice of the measure, that they, bitterly as 
 they were prejudiced against me, could not oppose it. 
 Notwithstanding a majority voted in the affirmative, it was 
 not sufficient, it requiring, by the senate rules, a two-thirds 
 vote to suspend a rule. It being toward the close of the 
 session, and other business pressing, that vote could not be 
 obtained. Accordingly, on motion of Mr. Coffroth, the bill 
 was referred to the judiciary committee, with instruc- 
 tions to report it back the next day. In accordance with 
 these instructions, the committee reported it on the eighth 
 of March, recommending its passage, with an amendment 
 to tKe^effect that the judge of a court to whom applica- 
 tion might be made for a change of venue in accordance 
 with the provisions of the bill, should have the power to 
 grant or refuse the order, in his discretion. In this shape 
 it passed the senate unanimously, but the house refused 
 to concur in the senate's amendment, not knowing what in- 
 fluences might possibly defeat the merciful intent of the 
 bill, in my case, in San Francisco. Accordingly, it went 
 back to the senate, which body receded from their amend- 
 ment, and on the njnlh day of March, the bill having unani- 
 mously passed both houses as originally recommended by 
 the judiciary committee of the assembly, it received the 
 signature of the Governor and became a law. 
 
 As may be supposed, this simple act of justice enraged 
 my enemies at San Francisco not a little. Anything that 
 savored so much of mercy to me, necessarily gave mortal 
 
196 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 offense to that portion of the press which had been so indus- 
 triously instigating: my fellow-citizens to hunt me for my 
 blood for the past ten months.* Their bowlings annoyed 
 me, however, but little, and, so soon as my counsel could 
 obtain a copy of the law, the proper affidavits were filed in 
 the fourth district court at San Francisco, and Judge 
 Hagar, w^ho occupied that bench, made the order for the 
 change of venue, making Napa County the place of 
 trial. 
 
 Having now secured the certainty of an impartial trial, 
 I patiently awaited the bench-warrant of the Hon. E. W. 
 McKinstry, judge of the seventh judicial district, to 
 which my case had been transferred. I kept very quiet, 
 being visited by my friends, and occasionally amusing my- 
 self by listening to the debates at the Capitol. In this con- 
 nection I cannot but relate an incident which, while it sets 
 forth in its true colors the inexpressible meanness which 
 
 *The editor of that delectable sheet, the Bulletin, supremely dis- 
 gusted that a sense of right and decency should have induced those 
 sworn to support the laws and constitution, to differ with hiqi in his 
 insane fanaticism, published the following silly and bombastic threat : — 
 
 Let Them Beware the Future. — We understand from good 
 authority that J. Martin Reese, one of the parties arrested at the 
 time of the capture of Judge Terry, and who was released from the 
 rooms of the Vigilance Committee on his parole of honor (which 
 he afterwards broke), was engaged, some time since, in collecting, by 
 subscription, among the law-and-murder sympathizers, a sufficient 
 fund to carry the notorious McGowan to Sacramento. These, fac- 
 tionists were actually deceived by Estell's pompous assertion, that a 
 reaction had taken place in the feelings of the people, and, calculating 
 on the great chances of the Young Men's Democratic Club succeed- 
 ing in the election of their candidate to succeed Frank Tilford as 
 senator, thought it would be the most favorable opportunity to return 
 with McGowan and produce a collision with the friends of reform. 
 This crowd of lawless men seem determined, now that they find sym- 
 pathizers in the legislature, to force the Vigilance Committee to 
 commit some overt act. 
 
 We tell these men frankly, that the Vigilance Committee, and their 
 friends throughout the state, are alive to all their schemes, and will 
 not foolishly or rashly be drawn into their meshes. But, should they 
 deem it essential for their own protection, or in vindication of law 
 and justice, again to take the reins of government in their own hands, 
 there will be no child's play, nor will San Francisco be alone in the 
 general cleaning out that will most assuredly follow. Los Angeles 
 is now engaged in the work. The mountains will soon follow. 
 
Nm-rative of Edward AlcGowAN 197 
 
 characterized the impotent rage of the poor wretch who 
 edits the San Francisco Bulletin^ at the same time shows 
 the bold and manly scorn in which his littleness was held 
 by a gentleman occupying the second highest position in 
 the state government. 
 
 I went one day, by invitation, into the assembly hall, 
 and was seated within the bar, at the table of the member 
 who had invited me, when the reporter of the Bulletin 
 espied me. I had not been there five minutes before a 
 dispatch was telegraphed to that paper, stating the fact of 
 my being there, together with the name of the member 
 who had invited me. In that evening's issue of the Bul- 
 letin, a scurrilous article appeared, commenting not only on 
 me, but very severely on the gentleman who had taken the 
 liberty of introducing me v^^ithin the bar. It was, of course, 
 a source of no annoyance to my friend, who had often 
 shown, in his legislative course, how little he heeded shots 
 coming from that quarter, nor should I probably have 
 remembered it now, but for the fact that the Hon. R. 
 M. Anderson, lieutenant-governor of the state and presi- 
 dent of the senate, on reading the article the next day, 
 tendered me a standing invitation to enter within the bar 
 of the senate chamber whenever I felt disposed, adding 
 at the same time, that "such pitiful persecution could never 
 fail, among decent men, to make for the victim of it friends 
 even among strangers." 
 
 While awaiting the action of the court at Napa, a gen- 
 tleman, who I knew to be my friend, called on me and 
 informed me that he had every reason to know that impor- 
 tant testimony would be adduced against me on the trial, 
 which had not been given either before the coroner who 
 held the inquest on Mr. King or before the grand jury. I 
 listened attentively to the gentleman, for I knew him to be 
 my friend, and then told him that it was all a fabrication 
 which had been told him to induce him to persuade me, if 
 possible, to leave the country. I may as well here state 
 that I understood it all, and that this was no shot from the 
 Vigilance Committee, but was a 7'use of certain gentlemen 
 nearer home, whose treatment of me had left them no 
 cause of congratulation on my unexpected return from 
 exile. I said nothing of this, however, to my friend, for I 
 
198 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 knew that he was actuated by the kindest of motives, and 
 simply told him that I had come many hundreds of miles 
 to stand my trial, and meant to do so. 
 
 The interview had one good effect, however : it awakened 
 me to vigilance as to the machinations of the Committee, 
 who, it struck me for the first time, might be endeavoring 
 to suborn witnesses to insure my conviction, and, as the 
 sequel will show, this suspicion was not entirely groundless, 
 and the defeat of their schemes was, in a great degree, 
 owing to my watchfulness. 
 
 For some time after my case had been certified to the 
 court at Napa, I waited in Sacramento, expecting every 
 day that the sheriff of that county would arrive with a 
 bench-warrant and take me into custody. During this 
 period, nothing of interest occurred to me, except that, 
 from time to time, my presence in the city, unconfined 
 within a jail, elicited a howl of baffled rage from the "mob 
 organ" of San Francisco' which, to my great amusement, 
 was invariably taken up and re-echoed in the feeble yelp 
 of such poodles of the press as the Sacramento Jge, and 
 other twopenny sheets which have sprung into an epheme- 
 ral existence under the benign influence of sedition, even 
 as mosquitoes are engendered by the exhalations from a 
 pestilential swamp. Their bite is but a trifle, but their 
 hum is an insufferable nuisance. 
 
 At length, on the 14th day of May (which happened to 
 be the anniversary of the shooting of James King of Wm. ) 
 a bench-warrant was sent from Napa to Sheriff White of 
 Sacramento County, under which I was immediately 
 arrested by one of the deputies of that officer, and remained 
 in his custody, at the "Magnolia," until Sunday, the 17th, 
 when Mr. Charles Clark of Napa, who had been specially 
 deputed by the sheriff of his county for that purpose, 
 arrived in Sacramento, and on the same day 1 accompanied 
 him, by way of Benicia, to Napa City. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Now the play is done: 
 All is well ended, if this suit be won. 
 
 Jll 's IVell That Ends Well. 
 
 On arriving at Napa City, though still in charge of the 
 sheriff, I was permitted to put up at the Napa Hotel, and 
 was at liberty to go about the streets of the town, accompa- 
 nied by an officer, until Tuesday, the 19th of May, when I 
 was arraigned before Judge McKinstry, and plead "not 
 guilty" to the indictment. I was then remanded to the 
 county jail, where I remained until Friday, the 22d of 
 May. To the credit of the citizens of Napa County be it 
 said, I found myself the only occupant of the jail. I was 
 permitted to go about the entire building, and was under 
 no other restraint than my confinement to the house. I 
 was treated with kindness and made very comfortable by 
 Sheriff Stark and his deputy, William Towns, Esq. Mr. 
 Charles Clark, who had been sent to Sacramento for me, 
 also visited me frequently, and by many acts of kindness 
 rendered my captivity less disagreeable than it would other- 
 wise have been. To all of these gentlemen I beg now to 
 repeat my many thanks for their consideration and kind- 
 ness. On Friday, the day fixed for my trial, I again 
 appeared in court, and, as will be seen by the following 
 report of the proceedings, taken from the San Francisco 
 Herald^ the prosecution was allowed a postponement of the 
 case for another week. 
 
 \_First Day.~\ 
 
 Napa City, May 19, 1857. 
 The trial of Edward McGowan commenced this morning in the 
 seventh district court, Judge E. [W.] McKinstry presiding. Messrs. 
 
 199 
 
200 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 __ 
 
 VpEdgerton and ^Heslep appeared for the state, and Messrs. Botts and 
 Coffroth for the defense. 
 
 On the opening- of the court, the District Attorney (Henry Ed- 
 gerton) read an affidavit setting forth that the testimony of Dr. D. 
 H. Toland was necessary to the prosecution of the case, and asking 
 that an attachment be issued to compel his attendance. 
 
 The District Attorney then asked for an attachment for the body of 
 John Butts, an important witness, who is now in the city prison of 
 San Francisco. 
 
 The Court said an affidavit would be necessary, showing that Butts 
 was an important witness, and was in prison. 
 
 Pending the above motion, the clerk proceeded to call the names 
 of the jurors impaneled in the case, — forty-two in number. 
 
 Mr. Lafayette M. Byrne then appeared and made the affidavit 
 required by the Court, setting forth that Butts "is said to be a mate- 
 rial witness." 
 
 The Court ordered the process to issue. 
 
 The District Attorney then moved a continuance of the case till 
 Monday, on the ground of the absence of Dr. Toland and the man 
 Butts. He offered an affidavit stating that the testimony of Messrs. 
 Toland, Stillman, and Butts was absolutely necessary to the prose- 
 cution; without it they cannot proceed; and that by Monday their 
 attendance can be secured. 
 
 Mr. Botts objected to the affidavit, on the ground that it does not 
 show that due diligence has been used to secure such absent testi- 
 mony. The District Attorney ought to show the exact mearis he had 
 used to secure the same. All the witnesses, he understood, had been 
 ordered to appear on Tuesday last, and if they were not here then, it 
 was the duty of the state to have asked for attachments to compel 
 their attendance at this time. He would undertake to say, if the 
 postponement now asked for was granted, that this case would not be 
 through in a year. Every time it came up, a continuance would be 
 moved, on the ground of the absence of a material witness. 
 
 The District Attorney said that this indictment was only received 
 from San Francisco on the 8th of last month. The subpoenas had 
 been promptly issued and returned. On Tuesday, the subpoena for 
 Dr. Toland had not been returned. He thought that this fact, alone, 
 showed that there had been no laches. 
 
 The Court intimated that the rights of the defense would be jeop- 
 ardized by the continuance. 
 
 Mr. Botts asked, as a favor, that the continuance be extended to 
 next Friday, which was agreed to by the District Attorney. 
 
 The jury was then discharged till that day, and the witnesses told 
 to be present on that day also. 
 
 So the case was postponed as agreed upon. 
 
 Immediately upon the order of continuance, I was re- 
 committed to the jail, where I remained until the next 
 PViday, the 29th of May. This postponement of the case 
 on motion of the prosecution, who had professed to be only 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 201 
 
 waiting for a chance to try me for nearly a year, not only 
 disappointed me, but many others who had journeyed to 
 Napa for the purpose of witnessing the trial.* However, 
 it rather helped than prejudiced my cause, and I passed 
 my week in jail very comfortably, being visited by scores 
 of friends. To John B. Milliken, Esq. , J. M. Dudley, of 
 Wells, Fargo, l5 Co. 's Express, and Edward J. Gage, Esq. , 
 I am under many obligations for unremitting kindness and 
 attention during my imprisonment. I also met here an old 
 Philadelphia friend, of the name of Frank Whitticar, one of 
 the proprietors of a circus then at Napa, who offered me, 
 if I needed it, the use of his purse. I beg him again to 
 accept my thanks for his good feeling toward me. Indeed, 
 with few exceptions, the entire population of Napa City 
 and the surrounding country treated me with marked sym- 
 pathy and kindness. Many persons rode to Napa on no 
 other business than to gratify their curiosity to see me. 
 PVom the v^^oodcuts they had seen of me in the mob 
 papers, and the stories they had read of me, they expected, 
 doubtless, to behold, at least, a moral if not a physical 
 monster. 
 
 While in prison, fearing that a scurrilous and lying 
 article, which just then appeared in the San Francisco 
 Alta California^ in relation to my antecedents in Phila- 
 delphia, written for the purpose of injuring me in the 
 opinion of the people of the county in which I vi^as to be 
 tried, might have its effect, I addressed a card to the people 
 of Napa, accompanied by the originals of some letters I 
 had received from some of the first men of my native 
 state, t Whether it had the effect I desired (that of keep- 
 
 * The town is crowded with strangers, and every hotel is crowded. 
 Numbers will be much disappointed at the postponement of the trial 
 of Ned McGowan. — Napa Reporter of May 23d. 
 
 t Ed McGowan's Card. — We publish to-day a card by Ed 
 McGowan, who is, as our readers know, confined in our jail on a 
 charge of being accessary to the murder of James King of Wm. The 
 card is rather pungent, but, considering the position of the writer, it 
 is not only moderate, but manly and dignified. Ned does not pretend 
 to be altogether a saint, but he is evidently one "who hath sat at 
 good men's feasts," and not the vulgar and low-bred ruffian which 
 some have described him to be. He is visited by crowds dailv, and 
 [14] I* 
 
202 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ing the people unprejudiced), I do not know; but I here 
 take occasion to assure the citizens of Napa that nothing 
 should have induced me either to annoy them or honor the 
 mob press by a newspaper rejoinder to their scurrility, 
 short of an absolute conviction that, under the circuxn- 
 stances, silence would have further imperiled me. 
 
 I was pleased, while lying in prison, to experience an 
 instance of gratitude in my fellow-men. A PVenchman 
 named Sanderson, who keeps a restaurant in the town, 
 daily sent me the best of his viands, wines, cigars, etc., 
 and, on offering to pay him my bill, I discovered that I 
 owed him, according to his account, nothing. It turned 
 out that, long ago, in San Francisco, I had the good fortune 
 to do him a slight service, which I had entirely forgotten, 
 (and, indeed, I had not seen him since, ) but which he grate- 
 fully remembered, and took this time and manner of 
 evincing his gratitude. 1 was touched by this proof of his 
 goodness of heart, and would have gladly paid him for his 
 articles, assuring him that 1 was not in pecuniary distress, 
 but he positively refused to accept a dollar. The propri- 
 etor of the Napa Hotel, who had also treated me wirfi great 
 kindness, in like manner refused to accept any recompense. 
 Indeed, on leaving the city after my trial, all I could get 
 the good people of Napa to accept for their courtesy was 
 my white hat^ which they insisted on having, and provided 
 me, in return, with a black one. 
 
 I cannot refrain from here recounting the singular man- 
 ner in which quite a distinguished citizen of California 
 (Gov. Henry S. Poote) became (when, from circumstances 
 I am now about to detail, I least expected it) my bitterest 
 persecutor. He who had vohmteered to ^^ serve the people'' 
 as associate counsel with the district attorney was A. M. 
 Heslep. So much of infamy has already been heaped upon 
 
 bears himself most cheerfully in his confinement. His lonp^-suffer- 
 ings have excited the sympathies of all classes, and, from the tone of 
 popular sentiment here, we should consider his ultimate chances of 
 becominp^ governor of the state a hundred to one better than of 
 being hanged. We paid Ned a visit last night, and found him look- 
 ing well and in fine spirits. As to the letters annexed to his card, 
 there is not a doubt of their authenticity. They were set up from the 
 originals, which are still in our possession. — Napa Reporter, May 
 23d, 1857. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 203 
 
 this man,^ — such wonderful and incredible crimes have 
 already been charged to him, — that I am loath to sully the 
 pages of this book by more than a bare allusion to what 
 has already shocked the moral sense of California, loose 
 and reckless as that moral sense may, by some, be esteem- 
 ed. Had the conduct of my prosecution, so far as volun- 
 teer counsel are concerned, been confined to him, I should, 
 for the reason given, have had nothing to say with regard 
 to it. I prefer to reserve his history for a future book, 
 wherein I propose to forgo the pleasure of endeavoring 
 simply to interest, amuse, and instruct, as is the object 
 of this volume, and bend myself to the unwelcome task of 
 tearing the veil from hypocrisy, and showing forth, in all 
 its hideousness, the depth of infamy which the human soul 
 may explore, while setting itself up as a monitor over the 
 actions of its fellows. Unfortunately, however, he was not 
 the only one who, in my case, placed himself in the unen- 
 viable position of public prosecutor. Governor Foote, 
 with the consistency so characteristic of his career in Cali- 
 fornia, said to this poor wretch Heslep, when he under- 
 stood he had volunteered to assist the gentlemanly district 
 attorney of Napa, whose official duty it was to prosecute 
 me, "Sir, you will gain nothing by this ruthless persecution 
 of an old man ! It is a disgrace, sir, to the profession ! 
 Nothing good can come of it!" This he said in presence 
 of Mr. Coffroth, one of my counsel, Mr. William Towns, 
 a deputy sheriff of Napa, and others, at the Napa Hotel, 
 while I was awaiting my trial, in prison ! This would have 
 been all very gallant and chivalrous in the old gentleman 
 had he acted in accordance with his expressed sentiment. 
 Unhappily, however, he did not. All the gentle?nen in 
 Napa County, residents of the place and visitors, took oc- 
 casion to express their disgust at the conduct of Heslep. 
 So loudly did they do this, that Governor Foote himself 
 saw, however strong might be his desire for my convic- 
 tion, that the probability of it was very remote with Hes- 
 lep acting as prosecutor. 
 
 Here, then, was an opportunity not only to make a fee, 
 but at the same time, what to him was of inestimably more 
 value, huncoinhe with the strong side in San Francisco. 
 Accordingly, he repaired to the city of the "purest and 
 
204 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 best," and informed them of the desperate strait the prose- 
 cution were in to carry their case. Utterly ignoring the 
 views he had expressed to poor Heslep, he received a fee 
 of five hundred dollars, and undertook the conduct of a 
 case he had himself declared to be such an one as should en- 
 tail disgrace on the pi'osecutor and on the profession ! How- 
 ever, if I may be pardoned the paradox, even in his incon- 
 sistency he was consistent. They who have watched the 
 political course of the venerable gentleman since he has 
 been in the state will be, doubtless, less astonished at his 
 tergiversation in this instance, than they would have been 
 had he scrupulously adhered to the sentiments he at first 
 avowed. As will be seen, I publish, in the account of my 
 trial, the report of his speech. I do this, partly that, both 
 sides being published, this chronicle may be deemed a fair 
 one, and partly that his old law-abiding and constitution- 
 loving friends in Mississippi may see how steadfastly and 
 zealously he has studied the peace and perpetuity of that 
 glorious Union, to preserve which he has made so many 
 weary pilgrimages, and, according to his own account, 
 fought so many intellectual battles side by side with Clay, 
 Webster, Calhoun, Cass, Dickinson, and others. 
 
 I also give to the reader the speech of my own counsel, 
 Mr. Botts. To those who love our institutions and respect 
 our laws, I commend this singularly able and bold cham- 
 pionship of them as far more worthy of perusal than all 
 the rest of this imperfect product of not a little labor. 
 
 Edward McGowan's Trial. 
 First Day' s Proceedings. 
 
 Napa City, May 29th, 1857. 
 The court was called to order at a quarter to nine o'clock. 
 The court called the names of the selected jurors. 
 The impaneling of the jury was proceedetl with, and the whole 
 of the day was consumed in impaneling- it.* 
 
 *The McGowan Case. — This case was called in our district 
 court yesterday morning. Some important additions have been 
 made to counsel on both sides since the adjom-nment last week. Gov. 
 Foote has been associated with counsel for the state, and Jack W. 
 Smith, Esq. , of this place, with the defense. All of yesterday was 
 spent in impaneling a jury. Both sides will be conducted with great 
 ability, and no legal point will be surrendered by either side witliout 
 a closely contested argument. If we may judge from appearances, 
 the trial will be very long and very interesting. — Napa Reporter. 
 
u 
 
 Narrative of Edward McGowan 205 
 
 The list of jurors as sworn in is as follows: Robert C. Gillespie, 
 Wm. Harg-rave, David Hudson, George Ware, Morris Twist, Wni. 
 H. Younger, Charles McBride, Peter D. Bailey, Ralph L. Kilhurn, 
 Harrison Hornback, James Glassford, and Charles Stillman. 
 
 The court adjourned until nine o'clock in the morning, instead of 
 seven and a half in the evening. 
 
 Second Day' s Proceedings. 
 
 Napa City, May 30, 1857. 
 
 The court was called at nine o'clock, Judge McKinstry presiding, 
 and all the jury were present and answered to their names. The 
 indictment was read by the assistant clerk. 
 
 The clerk read the minutes of yesterday's proceedings, and, on 
 motion of Mr. Botts, they were amended in two particulars. 
 
 Mr. Foote moved that the witnesses be put under the usual rule, 
 and that the doctors be first "arrayed against each other, and allowed 
 to return to their extensive practice." I suppose it is well to move 
 for the ordinary rule in capital cases at this stage of the proceedings, 
 because we are not desirous of having them hear any portion even of 
 our few general opening remarks. 
 
 The list was called, the rule given by the Court, and the witnesses 
 retired, when Governor Foote made his opening speech. 
 
 Testimony. 
 
 Lafayette M. Byrne, called and sworn. 
 
 Examination by the prosecution. 
 
 Reside in San Francisco; was deputy sheriff last May; was in 
 San Francisco after five o'clock, in the vicinity of Montgomery and 
 Merchant streets; usually dined at five o'clock; had not seen Casey 
 prior to the time mentioned. 
 
 Mr. Heslep asked the witness if he had seen Casey that day. 
 
 Mr. Botts objected to the question, on the ground of its irrelevancy. 
 In order to allow the admission of such testimony, the indictment 
 should have set forth that McGowan was an accessary in a particular 
 mode. The statute requires a precise statement of the crime, — how- 
 committed, when, and where. "The indictment must descend to 
 particulars," and they, being recited, must be pro^ued. This much is 
 required in civil cases. The object of special pleading was to elimi- 
 nate every point in the case. I recollect a man charged in one case 
 with stealing a heifer, when he stole a cow. The charge was overthrown. 
 Although the rule has been somewhat relaxed, the existing principle 
 is the same. The charge must be specific, and not general. You 
 cannot charge McGowan with killing James King, and proving that 
 charge by showing that Casey killed him. He understood that the 
 charge is that of killing James King, and he comes here with a wit- 
 ness to prove that he was twenty miles off. Could there be a greater 
 surprise than that afforded us? Here we find it is attempted to prove 
 that he aids, abets, or advises the killing of King, not that he is liter- 
 ally a principal, as would appear to be set forth. 
 
 Mr. Botts read the law indicating the proper form of an indict- 
 ment, as he conceived, in this case. 
 
206 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 Unless the indiftment is precise, it can be overthrown by a demur- 
 rer; if it is precise and particular, as in this indictment, it must be 
 proved with particularity. 
 
 Examination proceeded wath, and Mr. L. Byrne testified to his hav- 
 ing seen Casey shoot King, and arrested him and took him to the 
 station-house in the City Hall. 
 
 Mr. Botts asked the Judge to stop the examination, unless the 
 counsel intended to prove that McGowan was near enough to aid in 
 the assault. I think it is wholly irrelevant. 
 
 Mr. Foote — We expect to prove that McGowan was in a convenient 
 distance to render assistance. We will show a confederacy between 
 the parties; that this scene was all concofted by the parties charged. 
 We expect to show the strongest kind of a case in this particular. 
 
 Mr. Botts contended that it must be proved that McGowan was 
 prepared to aid in the murder, if necessary, as well as on the scene 
 of action, in order to render the proof of a blow from a confederate 
 relevant. 
 
 Mr. Foote said he was prepared to come up to the requisitions of the 
 law. We shall not get through with this case in twenty days, if we 
 keep on in this way. We expect to prove that McGowan was the 
 chief manager of this transaction. 
 
 Examination resumed — Was not on particular friendly terms with 
 Casey. Had no knowledge concerning his shooting propensities. 
 
 Cross-examined — Knew McGowan about five years; didn't see 
 King's hands; his hands were under his talma; had n't seen Mc- 
 Gowan for two or three days previous to the murder, and did^not see 
 him until one day after the same. 
 
 James IV. St!////ian, CdWed and sworn — Reside in San Francisco; 
 was at the Bank Exchange on the 14th May, 1856, about five o'clock, 
 P.M.; didn't see the act of shooting; heard the report; was in the 
 street as the time; first came out at the door to go to dinner; not 
 five minutes from five o'clock; immediately after the report, I turned; 
 was standing with my back to the direction in which the pistol was 
 fired; Mr. King passed me just before I heard the report, going in 
 the direftion of the express-office; spoke to me as he passed; heard 
 the report; then I saw both King and Casey; Mr. Casey was in the 
 act of stooping to pick up his cloak, or talma; King was in the act 
 of walking towards the express-office; ran and took hold of him, and 
 asked him if he was hurt; he replied, "Yes" ; assisted him to the 
 express-oflSce, to the back part; he groaned when mounting the 
 steps; the clerks got a mattress to lay him down on, and I then com- 
 menced unbuttoning his clothes to see where he was hurt; unbut- 
 toned his coat, took a pistol from his pocket and handed it to a gen- 
 tleman standing by; I then unbuttoned his shirt-collar, until I found 
 the wound; told him the wound was not mortal; don't profess to be 
 a medical man; doctors came in and examined the case; don't know 
 what became of Casey;- told King I did not know where Casey was; 
 the crowd had broken the windows, and they were talking outside so 
 that we could hear them ; had not seen Casey for two or three hours 
 before; then saw him on Montgomery Street; I was talking with 
 Mayor W'ebb and Horace Hawes; think they were the men; it was 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 207 
 
 about half-past two o'clock; I am entirely ignorant of anything else 
 connefted with the case. 
 
 Cross-examination — Found a pistol on Mr. King; on the right 
 side, I think; it was not in a pocket, but laying loose; it was a small 
 revolver; did n't notice whether it was cocked or not; told Mr. King 
 not to be frightened; he appeared to be very much alarmed at the 
 time I spoke to him; know Mr. McGowan; did not see him there. 
 
 Dr. Toland, called and sworn — Reside in San Francisco; am 
 a graduate in medicine; about ten o'clock on May 16th [14th] (evening) 
 saw several messages for me, requesting me to visit Mr. King at the 
 Express Building; when arrived, found Mr. King lying on the coun- 
 ter, on a mattress; I did not examine the wound; saw the anterior 
 wound, as it was exposed; I suppose twenty physicians were in the 
 room; there were two openings; lying on his back; the posterior 
 wound was concealed; Dr. Hammond had charge of the case, — King's 
 family physician; Mr. King's extremities were cold; vomited every- 
 thing taken; very little pulse in the right arm, and none in the left; 
 physicians were administering stimulants for the purpose of trying to 
 bring on a reaftion; applying mustard-plasters, Sfc. ; I remained 
 about two hours, finding physicians enough there, and not regarding 
 him as my patient; I left about ten o'clock; before leaving, was 
 requested by Dr. Hammond to return at seven o'clock the next morn- 
 ing; I then found Drs. Hammond, Bertody, and Gray in council; 
 reaftion being partly established, we determined to have him removed 
 to Montgomery Block; this was at seven o'clock in the morning; 
 we met at five o'clock in the afternoon, and examined his wounds 
 more particularly than we had before ; the anterior wound was about 
 an inch below the collar-bone, apparently over the first rib; the ball 
 passed backward and rather inward, and escaped on the inner side, 
 near the upper extremity of the shoulder-blade; the arm was entirely 
 paralyzed; motion and sensation destroyed; very cold and some- 
 what swollen, and very slight pulsation in the artery could be dis- 
 tinguished; (this was in the afternoon of the 15th May;) he was 
 still vomiting; right pulse, though more full than in the morning, was 
 still soft and impressible; not stronger than in the morning; believ- 
 ing that the vein, in consequence of profuse hemorrhage (can't assert 
 hemorrhage), — infer he lost a great deal of blood, from the length of 
 time it took to procure reaftion, — having lain twelve hours almost 
 pulseless, — we concluded to allow a small sponge, introduced, to remain, 
 for fear of a return of the bleeding if it^was withdrawn; he lay on his 
 back; posterior wound large, and there was a constant discharge of 
 bloody serum escaped, which prevented any accumulation within the 
 wound; posterior wound much larger than anterior; believing that 
 the artery, in consequence of indistinct pulse at the wrist, although it 
 might not be wounded, was so much injured that it might slough or 
 yield to the pressure of the blood above, a compress, wet with the cold 
 water, applied over the anterior, and a tourniquet arranged so as to 
 prevent bleeding; no force applied; horseshoe tourniquet; all neces- 
 sary was to turn a key. On the third day, found him much more 
 unwell than on the previous afternoon; I suggested the propriety 
 (for the purpose of satisfying the public) that some other physicians 
 
208 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 be called; Drury Myron attended next consultation; next morning-, 
 met to remove the sponge; Dr. Griffitli opposed the removing the 
 sponge; fourth day, opening entire armpit to allow concealed matter 
 to escape, but none was found; portion of lint passed in to keep the 
 incision open; fifth day, in the morning, still more unwell, pulse more 
 rapid, expression of his countenance more anxious; I administered 
 chloroform immediately and cautiously; object to lessen the sensi- 
 bility of the wound; didn't think it necessary to bring him wholly 
 under the influence of ether; this was about twelve o'clock, fifth day; 
 all the physicians agreed to the action; no discharge took place from 
 the wound, except a small amount of coagulated blood; his symp- 
 toms became gradually more unfavorable, though he had been get- 
 ting worse from the fourth day; on the sixth he died, late in the 
 afternoon; was living at one o'clock; heard he was dead at four or 
 five; told Dr. Hammond in the morning that he had phlebitis; so 
 two or three days before he died; suggested for consultation Dr. Has- 
 tings and others; thought the subclavian vein was injured; think that 
 vein and the veins of the arm were injured; the subclavian vein passes 
 from the wrist, under the collar-bone, and over the first rib; was a 
 gunshot wound; found the ball had injured the intercostal muscle, 
 the fleshy substance that connects the ribs; ball had not touched the 
 vein; the wound had brought inflammation of the pleura; found 
 over a pint of bloody matter in the chest; the post-mortem examina- 
 tion was made the next day after death; the nerves which supply the 
 arm were injured; the general prostration was great, — thouglit he 
 would die two hours after the receipt of the injury; after almpst any 
 serious injur}', patient becomes faint, and vomiting comes on, — all 
 caused by the loss of blood, and the shock sustained by the nervous 
 system, and reaction comes on after an hour, sometimes two or three 
 hours, sometimes not at all; if reaction does not come on, the 
 patient dies; reaction in King's case was never as fully established 
 as I desired; it is inadvisable to attempt an examination of injuries 
 vuitil reaction takes place, unless it be to tie a wounded vein; the 
 hemorrhage was arrested when I first saw King, — no bleeding; found 
 the lungs in a bad state, on a post-mortem examination, — tubercular 
 masses as large as my tiiumb in the chest. 
 
 Afternoon Session. 
 
 The court was called at two and a half o'clock. All the jury an- 
 swered to their names. 
 
 Dr. Toland'' s examination continued — Was in bad health some 
 time before he was shot; found lungs diseased, — the left one, that is, — 
 did not examine the right; his chance for recovery from an injury 
 like the one received was much less than that of a healthy person; in 
 all probability, some men would recover from such a wound; I infer 
 that he lost an immense amount of blood; violent and protracted pain 
 produces sometimes a prostration like that resulting from great loss 
 of blood; a lacerated wound sometimes causes death, where there has 
 been no loss of blood; the inflammation of King's veins extended to 
 the heart; the result of venous inflammation is always fatal, particu- 
 larlv if the vessel is large; am now speaking of the subclavian vein; 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 209 
 
 compress applied with cold water, and the tourniquet placed over it, 
 to stand in case of the artery becoming- loose; there was no pressure 
 from the instrument; nothing in the treatment that would produce 
 venous inflammation, — all the result of the wound, — that was the im- 
 mediate cause of death; I think Mr. King was treated as well as pos- 
 sible; have nothing to regret; I have received a good medical educa- 
 tion; was in Paris nearly three years, attending the hospitals and 
 lectures, after graduating in Kentucky; practiced ever since; have a 
 large practice; have large surgical experience; I was eighteen years 
 in Columbia, South Carolina; have been in San Francisco since 1853; 
 Doctors Gray, Bertody, Hammond, and Griffin were in attendance on 
 Mr. King-; no other physician had control in the case. 
 
 Botts — With an admission of competency, I wnll ask some plain 
 questions. 
 
 Cross-examined — Was called to see Mr. King in the express-office, 
 on May 14th; room nearly as large as this; warm evening, I think; 
 the evenings are generally raw and cold in May in San Francisco; ex- 
 amined or looked at the anterior wound; when called, the sponge was 
 introduced and a bandage on the wound; knew the wound was plug- 
 ged up; saw where the wound was; saw the bandage wet with blood, 
 and from that knew the position of the wound; it resembled a gun- 
 shot wound; the wound was inward, and ranged rather upward; the 
 ball entered about an inch below the collar-bone, and was one third 
 the distance from the collar-bone to the breast-bone; ball went behind 
 head arm-bone, and passed out near the upper side of the shoulder- 
 blade, near the spine; the shoulder-joint was not injured; there are 
 some portions of the body which cannot be injured without causing- 
 death; no large artery was injured in this case, but the wound of a 
 vein is about as dangerous as an injury to an artery; a large artery 
 is frequently wounded without causing death; the subclavian artery 
 rests upon the first rib; lies close up to the collar-bone; the ball passed 
 over this artery; the wound was an inch below the clavicle; this 
 artery is as large as the little finger; the ball injured some of the 
 sympathetic vessels; an inflammation of the vein is called phlebitis; 
 common disease; scarcely yet known to recover; any wound may 
 produce it; in Parisian hospitals, frequent; seen two in San Fran- 
 cisco die from inflammation of the veins; seen fifty die of the same 
 disease; one in San Francisco died of a knife-wound; have a large 
 practice; seen smaller veins inflamed, and not produce death, but it 
 is rare; a wound of the vein by pistol-shot is a tearing of the vein; 
 necessary to use sponge or lint in such wounds; suppuration takes 
 place in a few days; never think of removing lint oftener than two 
 or three days; more danger in closing the wound than keeping it 
 open; at the time we supposed matter was formed, we opened a part 
 under the armpit; keeping the wound close and keeping the matter 
 in might have produced inflammation of the vein; plug size of the 
 wound; should only be removed on the fifth day; time for the first, 
 two or three days; after that, it was pus; incision under the arni, 
 merely a puncture; applied a tourniquet; the hemorrhage could have 
 been below the collar-bone; requires a long time for reaction from 
 the prostration caused by bleeding or a nervous shock; reaction, com- 
 
210 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ing^ on, partially prolonged Mr. King's life 5 otherwise he would have 
 died next day; by reaction, I mean partial recovery; cold water was 
 applied; can't say that an application was made on the last night; 
 appearance was such as showed pleurisy came from pistol-shot; might 
 have come from cold; some division of sentiment among the physi- 
 cians; advised the taking out of the plug the morning after the injury; 
 thought the artery was wounded; can tell venous blood from arterial 
 blood; I thought the artery was wounded; the bleeding was stopped; 
 always bloody matter expended; the sponge might have reached the 
 artery and stopped the hole; thought the ball, in passing, might have 
 made a small opening; in a case I saw the other day, an orifice was 
 made in an artery by a buckshot; felt satisfied he had inflammation 
 of the vein; small pulse usual after such an injury; Dr. Nuttall told 
 me he dressed the wound; examined Mr. King's arm; Drs. Gray, 
 Hammond, Bertody, and myself were selected by King's brother, wife, 
 and friends to attend him; the armpit incision was not for the pur- 
 pose of counter-irritation; every wound inflames and pains somewhat; 
 the sponge was very soft; the reason we gave Mr. King chloroform 
 was so as to be ready to increase his insensibility speedily; gave 
 chloroform partly for the pain to be produced by pulling out of the 
 plug; conceive that there is no danger in giving chloroform; think 
 Dr. Valentine Mott has more reputation than any other doctor in the 
 United States; think a man may be a good doctor, who has not lived 
 in Paris or Germany. 
 
 Orlando C. Osborn — Was in San Francisco on the fourteenth of 
 May, 1856; present at the time Casey shot King; heard report of 
 pistol; saw Casey standing about seventy or eighty feet from him; 
 saw him pick up a coat; had a pistol; it was a revolver; was advan- 
 cing all the time, and as I advanced saw Mr. King taken into the ex- 
 press-office; some persons came up to Casey, and ushered him across 
 the street in a diagonal direction; think some person then took the 
 pistol; there was a person came up to Casey and took hold of his 
 arm; they were going up Washington Street; saw Casey raise his 
 arm and drop a pistol in the hands or pocket of a person on his left; 
 saw the pistol pass; it was a small-sized pistol; about ten feet off, 
 was a yellow-mounted pistol; positive of that; never saw it after- 
 wards, or knew anything of its whereabouts; looked like a derrin- 
 ger; didn't look like a revolver. 
 
 Cross-examination — Casey was about seventy feet from the corner 
 of Burgoyne's Building; then he dropped the pocket-pistol; taken 
 from his left hand; I was advancing towards Casey at that moment, 
 and was on the pavement right behind him; south side of Washing- 
 ton Street; couldn't describe the pistol particularly; the guard was 
 yellow; I know that; saw butt-end and mounting of the pistol, and 
 that was yellow; did not see the muzzle; guard and butt all I saw, 
 and that was yellow-mounted. 
 
 Charles Burroughs — Saw McGowan on the 14th of last May, at Mr. 
 Moses', over Pat Hunt's stable, between six and seven o'clock, on 
 the corner of Sacramento and Kearny streets; had no particular con- 
 versation; there at dinner; whole topic of conversation about King's 
 shooting; said nothing to me then or afterwards concerning a knowl- 
 edge of Casey's assault. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 211 
 
 Jacob Curtis — Reside in San Francisco; there last May; saw 
 defendant on the 14th, on Montgomery Street; said "How do you 
 do, Judge?" he replied, "Very well"; he gave me an introduction 
 to Mr. Whiteman at the same time; this was near Dan's Saloon, 
 between Commercial and Clay streets; Judge asked me to drink; 
 did SO; it was between four and five o'clock; Judge and I went in; 
 said I'd take a brandy punch; Whiteman said he'd take lager-beer; 
 Judge said he 'd take a gin cocktail; before the drinks were ready, a 
 lad came in and said, "You are wanted" ; lad said he wanted White- 
 man's pistol; Whiteman drew it out and laid it on the counter; I 
 took hold of it; says I,"It 's a noble pistol"; his reply was, "Yes; 
 it will shoot two hundred yards"; says I, "You had better be care- 
 ful who you let have the pistol, or you may lose it"; young man 
 went off; we drank our liquor off then; he asked me, "Don't you 
 know Jimmy?" I said I knew him by reputation ; lad took the pistol 
 with him; we talked there for a few moments; told them they must 
 excuse me, as I had to go to the post-office; then McGowan or 
 Whiteman said, "We '11 go out and see what they want of us" ; then 
 I went and put in a letter for Sacramento, but the boat had left — 
 boats left at four o'clock; returned to Jackson Street; got opposite 
 Burch's Hotel; heard the report of a pistol; looked up Montgomery 
 Street and saw people running, and I ran and saw quite a crowd up 
 the street, before the express-office; this was two or three minutes 
 after the report; between the time of leaving McGowan and hearing 
 the report of the pistol, there was an interval of seven or eight or ten 
 minutes; did not see King or Casev; didn't notice which way Mc- 
 Gowan and Whiteman went from the drinking-saloon; pistol was 
 one of Colt's navy revolvers, — one of Colt's "first make," so said 
 Whiteman; could n't say which said "We will go and see what they 
 want of us"; no other person came in, but the boy, to speak to 
 them. 
 
 Cross-examination — Fifty-three years old; born in New Jersey; 
 came here in '50; been in the lumber business; worked at planking 
 roads; was a member of the Vigilance Committee-^ came to San Fran- 
 cisco last year. May 14th, from my men in Stockton Street. It was 
 after four o'clock; went down Washington Street to Montgomery; 
 post-office in Washington Street; found by the Monumental clock it 
 was after four o'clock — two reasons by which I knew it was after 
 four o'clock; was going up to see Mr. Perry after I found the mail 
 was gone; no particular business with Perry; went up Montgomery 
 till I saw the Judge; no one ever saw me drvmk; generally find Perry 
 at Biggs Sf Kibbe's;. Dan keeps between Commercial and Clay 
 streets; wanted to see Perry about contracts; near half a block from 
 Dan's to Biggs Sf Kibbe's ; got within a hundred feet of where I sup- 
 posed Perry was, then turned and went to the post-office, with the 
 intention of seeing Perry on coming back; don't know what made 
 me alter my mind. Have known McGowan since '53 or '54; con- 
 sidered McGowan one of my friends; have been present with the 
 Judge on several occasions; I first met him at the Monumental En- 
 gine House. McGowan introduced me toW^hiteman; on same side 
 with Dan's Saloon; I took a brandy punch, Whiteman took lager- 
 
212 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 beer, and McGowan took a gin cocktail; while there boy came in; 
 didn't know the boy; never see the boy since, — sure; never told any- 
 body who the boy was; told persons it was not Butts; boy said, "You 
 are wanted"; after that, said Casey wanted Whiteman's pistol; 
 Whiteinan drew it and I took it; very large, — six-shooter; can tell a 
 six-shooter from a five-shooter by looking- at the size; the boy said, 
 "Casey wants Whiteman's pistol"; I picked it from the counter. 
 Then the boy took the pistol and went away. Then I said, "Better 
 be careful about who he let take the pistol." Then he asked me, 
 "Don't you know Jimmy?" Whiteman took out another pistol, 
 which Whiteman said was a six-shooter too. Could n't say as to 
 whether it was a yellow-mounted pistol or not; then went out, Mc- 
 Gowan and Whiteman following; they said they were going to see 
 what Casey wanted; I didn't look back; don't know that they ever 
 came out of the house; don't know who was in the saloon besides our 
 party and the barkeeper, as I saw; don't know whether "Dan's" is 
 a bit or a quarter house; never examined on this matter before; 
 have talked about what I knew in the case; think I told you (Mr. 
 Botts) about it once; did not say at one time that this affair took 
 place at Dan's; told you it took place on Montgomery Street; I say 
 upon oath that it was in Dan's Saloon; I was never before the Com- 
 mittee; I did not say it was at the Bank Exchange; told some per- 
 sons that it might have been at the Bank Exchange, but I was cer- 
 tain, and I am certain, that it was at Dan's Saloon; it was not possi- 
 ble for this to have taken place at the Bank Exchange; told you it 
 was on Montgomery Street; "was very careful what I said to you"; 
 said I wished the Judge well; said he always treated me welf; don't 
 recollect who asked me about the testimony; was asked why I did not 
 go before the grand jury; talked a little with the box-tender; went 
 on west side of Jackson Street; did not stop on the way from Wash- 
 ington Street to Dan's Saloon; talked with several persons; said. How 
 do you do.? or the like of that; only a short time in the saloon; 
 might be five minutes, more or less; from the "Clock Place" to 
 Montgomery Street it is about two blocks ; about two and a half blocks 
 to Dan's from thence; W^hiteman told me, if I came down to New 
 World Market, I would find him; was ten or fifteen minutes talking 
 with the Judge, outside of the saloon; know Mr. Parker of the Bank 
 Exchange; know he is the barkeeper of the Bank saloon; first knew 
 he was subpoenaed here last week; don't know whether Dan has been 
 subpoenaed up here or not; don't know E. Gould Buffum; believe 
 I talked with him of the matter, at Napa Springs, about a week ago; 
 it is impossible I said to him that it was no use for me to be here, as 
 Butts knew all the case; Butts said I was mistaken in the place; 
 you '11 have Butts by and by [laughter] ; Butts said this affair took 
 place at the Bank Exchange; I said it did not; don't know that I 
 told Buffum that Butts lied; Butts could n't know what I knew, 
 although he tells the same story; knew of the conflict in our testi- 
 mony; what Butts tells is pretty much the same story that I do, 
 except as respects the place; didn't want to come here; don't recol- 
 lect telling Buffum that Butts would give my story; was annoy d 
 about being brought up here; think I did not tell Buffum that this 
 affair took place at the Bank Exchange; I told Buffum the truth. 
 
NajTative of Edward McGowan 213 
 
 By Mr. Foote — 
 
 All that I know about Butts was what I read of his testimony before 
 the grand jury; thought Butts's testimony was equivalent to mine; 
 I stated to Mr. Buffum the case as I give it now. 
 
 Mr. Botts objected to the examination. 
 
 Mr. Foote contended that, in justice to the witness, who had been 
 called a liar on the stand, and otherwise very coarsely insulted, he 
 should be allowed to proceed. 
 
 Judged of Butts's testimony as given before the grand jury; sup- 
 posed it was like my own; understood that he swore he was the lad; 
 so, if it was, I thought I could be dispensed with. 
 
 At six o'clock the court adjourned until seven and a half in the 
 evening. 
 
 Evening Session. 
 
 The court was called at 1'^ 2 o'clock. 
 
 Mr. Andren.v J. Taylor — Reside 209 Clay Street; dealer in fire- 
 arms; was in San Francisco 14th May, 1856; saw McGowan that 
 morning, in my house; loaned him a navy pistol, and a knife manu- 
 factured in my house; I loaded the pistol, and loaded him a derringer 
 pistol; this happened on the day King was shot; Judge fetched the 
 derringer to my house ; it was a gold-mounted, plated, or galvanized. 
 Spring at cap-box broke; did not repair the spring; in shooting 
 order; a pistol of that kind I had sold; had not seen Casey just be- 
 fore that; did not see Casey that day; had not seen Casey or 
 McGowan for a day or two before that; McGowan took the pistols 
 and the knife with him; this was early in the morning. 
 
 Cross-examined — Dealer in guns, pistols, small guns, and divers 
 other things in shooting-gallery; common for me to load pistols; 
 McGowan not the only one who gets pistols loaded by me, demands 
 being frequent for me to load pistols sometimes; didn't know Casey 
 and McGowan were intimate friends; loaded a pistol for King that 
 time; followed loading pistols before this; been in the pistol-loading 
 business long time; been here since 1850; the practice of wearing 
 arms is common in California; the leading men of San Francisco 
 wear them; frequently persons come and discharge their pistols at 
 my house and have them reloaded; McGowan has been in the habit 
 of having his pistols loaded by me for the last three or four years. 
 
 Jo/iJi Butts — Reside in San Francisco; was in San Francisco on 
 the 14th May; saw McGowan and Casey an hour or so before the 
 shooting of King; saw Casey on Montgomery Street, and McGowan 
 in the Bank Exchange; was sitting in the window of the Exchange, 
 and Casey came and asked me to tell the man with McGowan to 
 come out; Peter Whiteman; know Peter; went in and told White- 
 man, and he asked me who was the man wanting, and I told him 
 Casey; I then left the saloon and went out to the street; McGowan 
 said, "You go and see what he wants"; after that no more said; 
 Judge and Whiteman went out after that; went and talked with 
 Hamilton Bowie; saw no more of him; saw Casey when he shot 
 King; at the time he shot King, was talking with a boy called Geo. 
 Winslow; saw him shoot King; told King he was going to shoot 
 
214 Nanritive of Edward McGowan 
 
 him; he then fired, — his coat falhng off meanwhile; big-sized 
 revolver; couldn't tell whether King- tried to shoot or not; he was 
 walking- with his hands or arms partly folded; when Case}^ came up 
 to him, he started back and received the shot; this was James King;, I 
 was told; seemed to come from the Bulletin office; Casey was 
 arrested by Mr. Byrne and Peter Whiteman ; took him up Washing- 
 ton Street; was afraid, and then fled; was first man I ever saw shot, 
 and it made me feel very nervous [laughter] ; saw him in Vigilance 
 Committee rooms; last time I saw him, he was hanging out of the 
 window [great laughter] ; saw McGowan once in Sacramento; 
 don't know what became of Whiteman. — "Saw him about San 
 Francisco ? "—No; 0,no; not since the Vigilance Committee. 
 
 Cross-examined — After McGowan went up and spoke to Bowie, it 
 was twenty minutes or half an hour before King was shot; the 
 corner was a loafing-corner; I had nothing to do in those days, and I 
 was loafing around there; had read the piece in the Bulletin, and 
 awaited the result; I was never before anybody but the Vigilance 
 Committee; have lately been in prison; sometimes out; police take 
 us out and make us work [laughter]; 13th March first trouble, and 
 Judge Coon let me go; have been taken up for stealing a leg of 
 mutton and for stealing money; never did steal any money, but the 
 last time I was up before Judge Coon he was rather excited, and so 
 he sentenced me, I suppose [laughter] . 
 
 Henry H. Byrne — Don't know as to the familiarity of McGowan 
 and Casey; am little in the street; never knew of their political 
 operations; know that they were acquainted, that's all. 
 
 /. M. Warner — Know McGowan well; don't know Casey; 
 McGowan never made any declaration concerning the affray, — never 
 said he saw Casey make his will. 
 
 The court took a recess of fifteen minutes. 
 
 Night Session. 
 
 The court reassembled at twenty minutes to 10 o'clock, when 
 counsel proceeded with the 
 
 "Testimojiy for the Defense. 
 
 Gen. James M. Estell — On the evening of May 14th, 1856, was on 
 Montgomery Street, in front of office, on the opposite side of Pacific 
 Express office, five or six doors to the north; office fifteen feet from 
 Washington Street; saw King shot; was in front of my office; was 
 detained a few minutes after business hours, which kept me there; had 
 heard of no difliculty between King and Casey up to time I heard 
 Casey's voice; not read the Bulletin of that evening; I heard Mr. 
 Casey's voice speaking in a short and excited tone, near the door of 
 the Metropolitan Saloon; heard his angry voice, in front of the 
 Metropolitan Saloon, saying, " Come on; come on," sharply; looked 
 south, and saw King about the center of the street, facing Casey, — 
 both standing in rather a defiant attitude, as I conceived [Gov. Foote 
 objected], looking towards Casey, with his arms folded, and his right 
 hand inside of his left breast; the parties were 100 feet apart at that 
 time; both had on talmas, or short cloaks; Casey approached 
 rapidly, asking in a sharp, excited voice, "Are you armed?" imme- 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 215 
 
 diately following-, he said, "Defend yourself, " or " Prepare to defend 
 yourself"; all this took place in a few seconds; Mr. King made no 
 reply that I heard; as Casey said "Defend yourself," he let his 
 talma fall and raised his right arm, which held a revolver, which 
 must have been cocked at the time cloak fell, and he immediately 
 fired at Mr. King; whilst Mr. Casey was in the act of firing, Mr. 
 King turned his face slightly towards the west, shoving his arm 
 down in his vest, — rather in a defensive position; the ball struck King 
 on the left breast and shoulder, when he cried out "O Lord! "several 
 times, and walked to the Pacific Express office; he (King) observed 
 Casey before the fire, but paid no attention to him whatever after- 
 wards; on his way to the express-office, I heard him say, " Oh, my 
 arm !" several times; judged his arm was broken; Casey, imme- 
 diately after firing, threw his revolver across his knee and used both 
 hands in cocking it; walked some steps forward in the direction of 
 King, who was at this time passing obliquely into express-office, and 
 behind an express-wagon; the act of passing into the express-office 
 naturally placed King and Casey on either side of the express-wagon; 
 when Casey saw King going towards the express-office, and in rather 
 an opposite direction to himself, he stopped, hesitated, and, after 
 turning half-way round and looking about him, uncocked his pistol 
 with both hands; picked up the cloak he had dropped; about the 
 time he reached his cloak, I saw two men approach him rapidly from 
 the direction of the express-office, one of whom was Lafayette Byrne; 
 the other man I had never seen before; I have never seen him since, 
 to my knowledge; seemed to be in the act of arresting him; Casey 
 appeared to make some little resistance to the arrest, although he 
 submitted; taken off by these men to and up Washington Street; I 
 have never seen him since I saw him in Committee rooms; when I 
 first saw King and Casey, I was nearly between them; they being in 
 the middle of the street, and I was on the sidewalk; nearly 45 feet 
 apart when Casey fired; when Casey called out first, was 100 feet 
 apart; advanced 55 feet; am familiar with the use of fire-arms; King 
 had ample time to fire accurately a five-barrel pistol after Casey first 
 called out; can't say whether Casey's first call attracted King's 
 attention or not; don't know whether King expressed a willingness 
 to meet an enemy in this way. 
 
 Mr. Foote objected to the examination. 
 
 "Do you know whether King publicly proclaimed his readiness for 
 such rencounter as this?" (Ruled out.) "Was the action of Casey 
 on this occasion that of a fair and honorable combatant?" (Ruled 
 out.) "What is the difference in size of these two persons?" (Ob- 
 jected to. ) 
 
 Mr. Botts contended for the propriety of the question; is it not 
 legal to urge this question ? I expect to prove that Mr. Casey was at 
 that time smarting under an insult not improperly resented by a ren- 
 counter of this kind. 
 
 Mr. Foote contended that unless he (the defendant) proved the 
 offensive position of King, the question was out of order. I say, so 
 far as I am concerned, if the gentleman really wishes to show an 
 insult complained of, we have no objection; I deny that Casey was 
 
216 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ever wronged by King, or that King- ever did anything but what was 
 justly demanded of him, as an editor, by the public. Question 
 admitted. 
 
 Casey was a small man in stature 5 suppose he might weigh 125 or 
 135 pounds 5 muscular for his size, and active; King was 6 feet high, 
 I should suppose, weighing, I should judge, 190 pounds at least, with 
 rather an uncommon degree of muscular strength and power. 
 
 Cross-examined — Did not know King was sick; would say he 
 weighed 170 or 180 when well; don't know that Whiteman con- 
 ducted Casey off; had started to the American Exchange to get a 
 drink; recognized Mr. Andrew Hebon, a butcher; no recollection of 
 seeing any one else until immediately after the firing; saw, after, 
 Ex-Mayor Webb, Wm. Neely Johnson, Richard Sinton, A. M. 
 Smith, and most of my acquaintances on Montgomery Street; think I 
 saw Ham Bowie in the crowd — not positive. 
 
 To Mr. Botts — Know Dan's Saloon; knew it in May, '56; went in 
 frequently to take a drink. 
 
 " Ever see lager-beer there ?" Objected to. 
 
 Question allowed. 
 
 Feel no modesty; had intimate acquaintance with brandy cock- 
 tails; have seen five hundred or five thousand persons drink there; 
 popular bar — generally full; first-class saloons never keep lager-beer. 
 
 Gov. Foote — "Was it not distinguished for a fighting-place?" 
 
 Politics made up there; judge it respectable from the number of 
 respectable gentlemen who want to mix in. [Laughter.] McGowan 
 drank there; don't know that lager-beer was not kept thej-e; uni- 
 versally not kept in that class of saloons; there are drinking-saloons 
 in San Francisco where lager-beer is not kept, of the highest price; 
 cheaper than best liquor; sold sometimes aboveground. 
 
 William F. Willicimson — Saw King after he had been shot on May 
 14, 1856; saw arms upon his person; saw a six-shooter inside of iiis 
 breast-pocket — left side. 
 
 Cross-examined — Noise of the pistol carried me to the spot; was 
 living at the Mission, and was in the habit of going out at 8 o'clock; 
 was waiting for an omnibus at corner of Clay and Montgomery 
 streets; expected there would be a difficulty that day; tlid not expect 
 that particular contest; don't recollect positively whether I saw Casey 
 before, that day, but I think I did; saw McGowan when I saw Casey 
 and Tom King talking; standing conversing with Casey on some 
 business, and King (Tom) came up and asked Casey to step aside, as 
 he wanted to talk with him; Vi Turner was near us; was not there 
 as the friend of Casey to overhear the conversation; McGowan wore 
 a white hat. 
 
 Alexander Dodge — On the evening of the 14th of May, 1856, I was 
 in the city of San Francisco; saw McGowan about five minutes to 4 
 o'clock; saw him at Barry antl Patten's five minutes to 4 o'clock; 
 last saw him twenty minutes to 5 ; was with McGowan all the time 
 intermediate; went with him to Justice Ryan's court, N. E. corner 
 of Kearny and Pacific; went in and sat down; Justice engaged in 
 trial; wanted to put off a trial; went out with another, and both had 
 a drink; came back; McGowan got up and interrupted the court, 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 217 
 
 and I got my case put off; cause of absence of witness, etc.; went 
 out and took another drink with same person; somebody in the 
 *'court" asked Ned if he had seen the Bulletin-^ said he hadn't, and 
 the gentleman passed it over to him; suppose he read it; he passed 
 the paper back and made a remark; took another drink, and went 
 down to Merchant Street, to Dunbar's Alley ; then McGowan stopped 
 for a moment; walked on; McGowan overtook me; went down into 
 Montgomery Street, into Nickerson and Lovett's saloon; proposed to 
 them to take another drink; this place is next door to the Bulletin 
 office; from there he (McGowan) left me, and I told them I must 
 go down aboard; McGowan went out before me, and I met him as I 
 was going down the street; when I met McGowan last time, it was 
 two nights after King was shot; case in court was to come off at 
 four o'clock; ascertained by the saloon clock or by my watch that it 
 was five minutes to four; was in Barry and Patten's five minutes; 
 was five to ten minutes walking to the courtroom; was in court 
 three minutes; went out and came back; was four or five minutes 
 getting a drink; was in court, second time, some ten minutes; five or 
 ten minutes in drinking-saloon; from the time I first met McGowan 
 (five minutes to four) to the time I left him, it was forty-five min- 
 utes; before five, I parted from him; nobody walked with us; when 
 I left Nickerson' s I was going to Clay Street; McGowan was walk- 
 ing toward Merchant Street; McGowan was on the same side of Nick- 
 erson' s saloon. 
 
 Cross-examined — Ned was half a block from Dan's Saloon when 
 I met him last; was defendant in the case referred to; am certain I 
 did not get to the court until after three o'clock; don't recollect 
 whether I looked at Nickerson's clock or not, — am uncertain on that 
 point; looked at clock or watch; feel pretty certain I looked at my 
 watch; am as sure that I looked at my watch as I was that I looked 
 at the clock the other day; my recollection is not confused; I started 
 from Patten's at near four o'clock; saw McGowan in Patten's; asked 
 him to take a drink; got him to go and put my case off; took a drink, 
 and away we went to the court; took eight to ten minutes to go to 
 court, two or three minutes in court, four to five minutes drinking; 
 came back to Justice's court and stayed five or ten minutes; went 
 back to the "corner" and stayed ten minutes or so; then went to 
 Nickerson's, consuming ten minutes thereby; did not stop at Nicker- 
 son's; saw McGowan a few minutes thereafter, — ten minutes to five. 
 After McGowan read the Bulletin^ he said that Casey would take care 
 of that; McGowan had white hat and mustache. Talked about my 
 testimony to-day; talked with Ryan to-day; Ryan approached me; 
 all been talking on the matter; have not talked with counsel to-day 
 on testimony; don't recollect of talking of my testimony with the 
 counsel since deposition was taken. 
 
 Gilbert A. Grant, called and sworn — Saw McGowan in the after- 
 noon of May 14th, 1856, about half-past four o'clock, in Merchant 
 Street, with another gentleman; don't recollect that it was the last 
 witness on the stand; about half-past four on the day mentioned, 
 Messrs. Sutherland, Chamberlain, Smith, and myself were standing 
 on the south side of Merchant Street, west of Montgomery, immedi- 
 [15] J 
 
218 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ately in front of the assay-office of Wass, Molitor, & Co., talking; 
 about an apprehended difficulty between Casey and Thomas King-; 
 while standing- there thus eng-aged, McGowan and this other person 
 passed down on the north side of Merchant Street, toward Montg-omery ; 
 Sutherland called to McGowan to come over, saying-, " Come over; 
 something is out"; the accompanying gentleman went in the direc- 
 tion of Nickerson & Lovett's saloon; this might have been twenty 
 minutes past four o'clock; in a short time after this, Casey came 
 down from the second story of Bolton fef Barron's Building, and went 
 down to Montgomery Street; after a lapse of a little time, we heard 
 the report of a pistol, and ran down to Montgomery Street; it was 
 Mayor Webb who told us that King had been shot; suppose this was 
 after five o'clock; don't know Peter Whiteman. 
 
 Cross-examined — My impression is that it was half after four when 
 McGowan came down the street; think the shooting occurred five 
 minutes past five; did not look at my watch; suppose it was ten or 
 fifteen minutes before the firing that Casey passed down; McGowan 
 had on a white hat, black mustache, green pants, and black coat; 
 knew that Casey and McGowan did not affiliate politically; they 
 might have been intimate, however, for aught I know. 
 
 To Juryman — Did not see McGowan at the Pacific Express office. 
 
 The court adjoiirned at twelve o'clock, until Monday morning, at 
 nine o'clock. 
 
 Th'u^d Day s Proceedings. 
 
 Monday, June 1st, 1857. 
 
 The court was called at nine o'clock. 
 
 Testimony for the defense continued. 
 
 John Nugent was called and sworn. — Was police-officer in San 
 Francisco last 14th May, 1856; saw defendant (McGowan) on that 
 day, about five o'clock, on Washington Street, about five doors from 
 Kearny; wanted to see him; went across to the north side of the 
 street to see him; was in his company about ten minutes; went to 
 Kearny Street together; did not see Hamilton Bowie; McGowan 
 spoke to some one who was with him; saw a buggy near to Palmer, 
 Cook, Gf Co.'s; did not hear the report of a pistol; the rencounter took 
 place whilst I was with McGowan; left McGowan on Kearny Street, 
 fifteen steps from Washington. 
 
 Cross-examined — Am special-police officer; no person in com- 
 pany with McGowan when I saw him; I was standing in Dunbar's 
 Alley when I saw him; McGowan was with Stevenson and Green; no 
 one else with me; standing at corner of alley and Washington 
 Street; did not look at the clock; knew the time by hearsay; Mc- 
 Gowan was walking towards Kearny Street; accompanied him eight 
 doors on Washington; went ten or fifteen steps down Kearny Street; 
 heard that there was a man shot, while standing there on Kearny 
 Street; don't know who told me that a man had been shot; Steven- 
 son, I think, told me; he was an officer; McGowan was standing by 
 me when the communication was given me; left McGowan in Kearny 
 Street; can't say which way he went; I ran down to Dunbar's 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 219 
 
 Alley; judge I walked with McGowan some ten minutes; did not see 
 an^^ one I knew w^hile standing with McGowan; my business with 
 him was to get him to see a man for me; don't know how long ago 
 it was I let McGowan know of this matter, — while he was in Sacra- 
 mento; spoke of it to some of his friends in San Francisco, — to Cur- 
 tis (Chief of Police), for one; have seen McGowan in prison most 
 every day; sometimes three or four times a day; did not have any 
 conversation with anyone on board the Sophie; don't know any one 
 by the name of Brittingham; was not with Brittingham two hours in 
 this town, that I know of; made no statement to him (Brittingham) 
 or any person that I could clear Ned; never; did not say to him 
 or any person that everything was fixed to clear McGowan ; am an 
 old police-officer, since 1852; business to hunt down persons accused 
 of crime; always a witness on those I detect; generally receive a 
 consideration from parties, outside of my regular fees; do up-country 
 business mostly now; did not hear the report of the pistol; don't 
 recollect as I did; this day, was standing by Palmer, Cook, & Co. ; 
 can't say I saw H. Bowie; might have done so; was north of Wash- 
 ington Street, on Kearny Street; the lots are three hundred and fifty 
 feet; was four hundred feet from the place where King was shot; if 
 I had heard the shot, I should have run to see where it came from; 
 left Stevenson at Dunbar's Alley; think it was Stevenson who told 
 me of the shot; the person who gave me the information ran with me 
 down the street; had some difficulty that day; had some trouble then; 
 had a difficulty with North; never was broke; often in difficulty as 
 an officer; did not know that there was likely to be a difficulty that 
 afternoon between Casey and Tom King; did not know that such 
 was the common talk of the afternoon; since I have been here as a 
 witness, have not heard any testimony given here; heard old man 
 Taylor say that he did not know anything, and he told all he knew. 
 [Laughter.] It was four hundred and twenty feet from where I was 
 to the place of rencounter. 
 
 To a Juror — I was about ten minutes with McGowan before the 
 report came that a man was shot. 
 
 Sa?nuel Ste^vetison^ called and sworn — Was a police-officer on the 
 14th of May last. (The testimony of this witness was the same as 
 that of Officer Nugent. ) 
 
 James McNah — Was in San Francisco on the 14th of May, 1856; 
 saw Casey on that day, several times; saw him in the neighborhood 
 of " Natchez" ; after four, was on corner of Kearny and Clay streets, 
 talking with a friend; Casey came along; thought I 'd watch him; 
 Casey went into ' ' Natchez" ; stayed fifteen minutes in there ; noticed, 
 when he came out, had a pistol bulging out his coat; he went down 
 Merchant Street; was a large pistol; Natchez has assistants in his 
 pistol-gallery. 
 
 Cross-examined — Have seen assistants in "Natchez" ; Taylor said 
 it was not possible that Casey was in his shop; Natchez said Casey 
 never came to his shop; Taylor told me this after the case came on; 
 had no conversation with Taylor. 
 
 Judge — Think I told the witnesses not to talk to each other; I just 
 contradicted Taylor; overheard Taylor at Revere House; he went on 
 
220 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 some time; he was tellings stories; think all I said was, that he was 
 mistaken; he said that Casey had never been in his house for three 
 months; said I thought I had seen Casey go into his house the 14th 
 May; have been intimate with Casey for a series of years; first knew him 
 in San Francisco in '54; have been enemies; did not speak for two 
 months; followed Casey up when I saw him go in Natchez' ; expelled 
 difficulty between him and Tom King; was not my business to come 
 here and help the defense; not present when Casey was arrested; 
 went up to the jail that night (May 14th) ; went into the jail some time 
 after; went in to guard the jail; went in voluntarily to guard; there 
 was a mob outside; heard it rumored that it was to be attacked; 
 don't know who let me in; thought all in the jail were in danger; 
 expected to see the jail torn down; can't say I went to guard Casey; 
 believed that violence woidd occur on account of the King and Casey 
 affray; thought Casey was menaced; went in to defend the jail; no 
 special relations with Casey; did not stay in jail ten minutes; went 
 to get arms. I was one of the proscribed of San Francisco; am the 
 man who was engaged with Malony to get the arms. 
 
 To Mr. Botts — I was first lieutenant of a company when I went for 
 arms; I was kept aboard the revenue cutter for eight weeks; they 
 tried to take me and send me off; they came to my house and 
 searched; I got out the back way; can't say whether they brought 
 the "all-seeing eye" or not [laughter]; am living in San F'ran- 
 cisco now; Captain Ashe sent me for arms; was resisted in the exe- 
 cution of that order by the Vigilance Committee; took me in San 
 Pablo Bay. 
 
 To Mr. Foote — I got my commission from Gov. Johnson two days 
 before Casey was arrested; had no commission before; went, under 
 orders, to Benicia and got all the arms we wanted; was apprehended 
 in the bay and taken to San Francisco; sympathized with the other 
 side; got some of our arms at Benicia. 
 
 To Mr. Botts — Was robbed of those arms; looked like robbing. 
 
 E. G. Buffiun — Objefted to on account of his attendance during 
 the trial. Objeftion withdrawn. 
 
 Saw Curtis (witness), of Napa Springs, a few days ago. Had a 
 conversation with him in regard to the testimony he was to give; the 
 conversation originated from his complaining of his being brought up 
 there, away from his business; my impression is, that he said there 
 was no necessity for his testimony, as that of Butts would testify to 
 all he could; think he said he was with McGowan in the Bank Ex- 
 change when Butts came up. 
 
 Dr. B. Cole — Am a prafticing physician; graduate; graduated at 
 the Jefferson Medical Institute in '48; been practicing since then 
 without interruption; was prafticing in San Francisco in May, '56; 
 saw King within seven minutes after he was shot; made an examina- 
 tion of his wound; knew of his (King's) medical treatment; heard 
 Toland's testimony. 
 
 Do you think Mr. King died of his wound, or from the treatment 
 he received? 
 
 Obje61:ed to on the ground of its too general natiu'e. 
 
 Overruled. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 221 
 
 In my opinion, the wound was not necessarily a mortal one. The 
 treatment was of such a character as to make it a mortal wound, or 
 in other words, to cause death. 
 
 Cross-exa?nined — Studied in Washington and Philadelphia; com- 
 menced practice in Philadelphia — practiced there for seven years; 
 been in California about five years; pursued the profession continu- 
 ally here; was engaged in the drug business with Little; Nott and 
 McClelland' s reputation are good; saw King's wound soon after it 
 was inflicted; wound still bleeding; Dr. Nuttall was stooping over 
 the patient, in the act of examining the wound; introduced my finger 
 into the wound after Nuttall; decidedly venous blood issuing — quan- 
 tity did not seem to be unusually great; the wound was an inch and 
 a half below the clavicle; I was the first who discovered the posterior 
 wound. 
 
 The Doctor brought in a half-skeleton, by which he illustrated the 
 character of the wound. 
 
 The subclavian vein is below the artery; seemed to be a simple 
 flesh-wound, and, from the blood, it was very evident that the artery 
 had escaped; united in the dressing of the wound; objected to the 
 sponge when it was introduced; the sponge was of the size of a tur- 
 key's tgg\ it had to be stuffed into the wound; assisted in tying the 
 bandage on; thought its introduction was improper; should have 
 preferred lint; very many differences exist between myself and other 
 medical gentlemen; I think I expressed a disapproval of the material 
 introduced; the reaction of the next day was sufficient to warrant the 
 expectation of recovery; was very intimate with King; not aware 
 that he was laboring under a serious wound; personally know of the 
 subsequent treatment. 
 
 [The Doctor here delivered a long anatomical lecture.] 
 
 A post-mortem examination affords the best evidence of the pre- 
 cise nature of the wound; was not present at Mr. King's post-mortem 
 examination, on account of the special order of the attending physi- 
 cian; the application of the tourniquet was improper and injurious; 
 Dr. Toland's reputation in the community is one thing — his reputa- 
 tion among the medical profession is another thing; I am nearly ex- 
 clusively a surgeon; was in Jefferson Institute — as professor — for 
 four years; have performed very many cases in San Francisco and 
 elsewhere. 
 
 To the Judge — It was improper to put this tourniquet on the wound; 
 I would have selected something besides a sponge to put in a wound; 
 sponge came in contact with the vein and retained poisonous matter. 
 
 Only attended the case of King one or two days; suggested the 
 removal of the sponge and tourniquet several times; there is no pro- 
 fession in which there is more rivalry than in the medical, unless it be 
 the law; have lectured on the case; was not actuated by jealousy; 
 my reason for lecturing on this case was to promote the right; with- 
 drew from Mr. King's case on account of the discourtesy of the at- 
 tending physicians; personal matters between us. 
 
 To Mr. Botts — Was excluded from the post-mortem examination; 
 I am commissioned surgeon-general to the Vigilance Committee; I 
 
222 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 am the surgeon of the grand marshal's staff; have some seventy or 
 eighty doctors under me. 
 
 The Bulletin article was admitted. 
 
 The court adjourned for an hour. 
 
 Here the testimony was closed, and the following speeches 
 of counsel were made. The remarks of Mr. Coffroth and 
 Heslep are omitted, as those of Gov. Poote and Mr. Botts 
 embrace everything of interest in the case. 
 
 The following is the substance of the speech of Mr. Botts, 
 who closed for the defense: — 
 
 Gentlemen oft/ieJnry, — I was informed, during the progress of this 
 trial, that it had pleased one of the gentlemen who represent the state 
 to remark that he observed symptoms of anxiety and fear on the part 
 of the counsel for the defense. The remark did honor to the sagacity 
 of the acute observer. 
 
 When I consider, gentlemen, the large circle of friends drawn to the 
 defendant by the attraction of a heart as warm as ever beat in the hu- 
 man breast, looking to us for the realization of their hope of his deliv- 
 erance; when I remember that an ingenuous and affe(^Honate youth 
 has committed into our hands the life of his aged father, and that rep- 
 utation which is now his only heritage, — I confess I am overwhelmed 
 with embarrassment, and tremble in humble acknowledgment-* of my 
 incompetency to do justice to this cause. To my mind, the thought 
 of that mysterious and eternal sleep to which we are all doomed is so 
 allied with awe, that it imparts a dignity and solemnity to the person 
 of one who stands within the portals of the palace of death. And, 
 gentlemen, do you not, too, recognize the solemnity of the duty 5'ou 
 are called upon to perform? Do you not recognize the fact that it is 
 no light and trivial thing even to put in jeopardy the life of a fellow- 
 being? You do, gentlemen; I know you do. The day has passed, — 
 the day has passed, thank God, when human blood flowed like water, 
 and when gibbets and corpses were the proper ornaments of our re- 
 fined and fashionable metropolis. 
 
 The time has come when a man accused of crime can find one spot, 
 at least, in the state of California where he can have a fair trial, by a 
 jury of his peers, in accordance with the time-honored usage of that 
 noble race from which we are sprung. And, gentlemen, if there is a 
 spark of sympathy in your breasts, it will lighten up at a recital of the 
 wrongs and persecutions to which this man has been subjected. The 
 defendant is an aged man. The frosts of nearly sixty winters have 
 fallen upon his head. One night passed by Marie Antoinette in a 
 prison of France was, by suffering and agony, prolonged into an 
 age; and this man has learned, in the same way, to count weeks for 
 months, and months for years. He has been driven from the bosom 
 of society, compelled to flee as though a convic^ted felon, and seek an 
 asylum in a distant province. But the bloodhounds were upon his 
 track. They found him domiciled among the kind and hospitable 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 223 
 
 people of Santa Barbara. Expelled and driven thence, he was com- 
 pelled to flee to the mountains. During the day he is skulking from 
 rock to rock, and at night he goes down to the plains for a drop of 
 water to cool his parched lips. In the mean time his substance is 
 wasted or confiscated; and he comes to you now broken in spirit and 
 ruined in fortune. And this has been done, not by a set of cannibals 
 in the Fiji Islands, not in a savage province, but in a land where, 
 from some mountain peak, the poor wanderer could still see the Stars 
 and Stripes. But, alas ! they no longer waved o'er the land of the 
 free or the home of the brave. 
 
 Now, gentlemen, you will be told that this man fled from this in- 
 dictment. It is not true; and the proof lies in this, that, as soon as 
 it was safe for him to return, — aye, even sooner, perhaps, than prudence 
 warranted, — he did return, and delivered himself into the hands of the 
 law. Even then he was forced to seek his protection within the very 
 verge of the Capitol. He was compelled to procure the passage of a 
 law which would enable him to secure a change of "vemie without mak- 
 ing his personal appearance in the city of San Francisco. This law 
 was passed by the legislature of California with extraordinary una- 
 nimity. It was based upon the admission of the representatives of 
 the Vigilance Committee, that it was true that this man could not go 
 to San Francisco safely. And the act recites the fact that there is 
 still a portion of this country where the majesty of the law is set at 
 defiance, — where the government cannot protect her citizens. What 
 a shame and what a reproach to that city! and what a blot upon your 
 historical record! Never would I have voted for such a law. I would 
 have said, "Perish fifty McGowans before I put upon record such an 
 humiliating confession." 
 
 Can it, then, be pretended, gentlemen, for a moment that it was any- 
 thing else than the lawless act of these lawless men that drove this 
 man into exile ? Why, and how, is he here now ? Who brought him 
 here? He never desired anything but a fair and impartial trial; not 
 the hojiorable trial of the Vigilance Committee-^ not a trial from a body 
 of men who, we have ascertained from one of their own number, look 
 up testimony, and when they discover that it is not exactly fit for the 
 purpose, disregard and ignore it, as old Curtis told you was the fact in 
 his own case; not the honorable trial of the Vigilance Committee: 
 but a fair and impartial trial by a jury of his peers. 
 
 But let us, — for our time is short, gentlemen, — let us proceed with- 
 out further circumlocution to the consideration of the facts of this 
 particular case. The defendant stands charged with the crime of 
 murder. It is pretended that on the 14th day of May, 1856, he mur- 
 dered one James King of Wm. Now, the evidence shows that upon 
 the evening of that day a rencounter took place between James P. 
 Casey and the deceased, in which King was wounded by a shot fired 
 from a pistol in the hands of Casey. Three questions are presented 
 by this state of facts. The first is. Did King die of the wound 
 inflicted by Casey ? Secondly, If King died from the wound, was 
 that act murder, or manslaughter, or justifiable homicide ? Thirdly, 
 and chiefly. What was the complicity of the accused with that act .'' 
 
 Now as to the question whether King died of the wound inflicted 
 
224 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 by Casey, — because, certainly, if Casey did not kill King, or if King 
 died in consequence of operations, or acts performed by others, 
 whether they may have been committed, as we shall urge, by Doctor 
 Toland, and those acting with him, on the one hand, or by Doctor 
 Cole, as is contended by his associate, who represents the people, on 
 the other hand, it is equally unimportant for us, for it is not con- 
 tended that there was any complicity between us and either of these 
 physicians. Now, gentlemen, I confess that this is a subject to which 
 the gentleman who opened the case is much more equal than I am. 
 Remember, the true rule of law is, and so His Honor will charge you, 
 whatever may be the opinion to the contrary of the distinguished pro- 
 fessor both of law and of physic, — who seems, by the way, to have 
 obtained his views of the law rather from the Vigilance Conmiittee 
 than from any civilized system of jurisprudence, — the Court will 
 charge you that it is the business of the commonwealth, before she 
 can obtain a verdict, to satisfy you, beyond all reasonable doubt, that 
 the act of murder was committed by the party charged with the deed. 
 If there is reason to doubt that James King of Wm. died of the 
 wound, and not of the treatment, there is an end of the prosecution. 
 Well, now, let us look at Dr. Toland's testimony first, as it stood 
 uncontradicted. Dr. Toland tells you that there were two or three 
 causes operating, any one of which might have produced death. He 
 does not pretend that any mortal part was wounded when the ball 
 passed through the body of Mr. King. He says that King might 
 have died of inflammation of the vein, and that inflammation of the 
 vein we have shown, and he admitted it might have possibly been pro- 
 duced by the treatment. He tells you, again, that King lay all night 
 upon a single mattress, upon a counter in the office of the Pacific p]x- 
 press Company 5 that the evening was raw and chilly, although he 
 says that the room was warm 5 that many applications of cold water 
 were made to his wound; and that King was, at the time, in delicate 
 health. He tells you, that, upon an examination of King's body, im- 
 mediately after his death, evidences were exhibited that justified the 
 conclusion that he died of pleurisy, and that it was possible that, from 
 the circumstances of the treatment alluded to, he -might have caught 
 a cold which terminated fatally. I do not pretend to tell you that 
 Dr. Toland said that the probability was that King met his death 
 from this source, but I call your attention to the fact that he admitted 
 that such possibly was the case. Now, without going into the evidence 
 on the other side, does Dr. Toland's testimony leave your minds 
 without a doubt — nxiithoiit a doubt — that James King of Wm. died 
 from the wound received from James P. Casey, and from nothing 
 else } Can you, upon your oaths, say that that is the fact t Do you 
 not perceive that if nothing else stood in the way of the conviction of 
 Casey for this murder, if it were proven that McGowan started with 
 Casey for the purpose and with the design of murdering, or, if you 
 please, of assassinating. King, even then here would be a stumbling- 
 block which the prosecution could never surmount. Wh}^, there is 
 not a man within the sound of my voice, who heard the testimony of 
 Dr. Toland, who can say more than this: ^^ Probably'''' ya-vae^ King of 
 Wm. met his death from a pistol-shot; but it is impossible for human 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 225 
 
 ingenuity, for human wit, to ascertain with certainty whether he died 
 from cold or from the wound, and the defendant is entitled to the 
 benefit of every doubt. 
 
 But, in addition to that, what do we have ? We have the testimony 
 of a physician, who, if I can be permitted to express an opinion at 
 all upon such a subject, exhibited, under the most scientific cross-ex- 
 amination that I ever heard, the greatest intelligence and ability, to 
 which the gentleman himself (Mr. Heslep) paid the highest compli- 
 ment. Such a witness does not hesitate to say that the death of King 
 was in consequence of the treatment, and not of the wound. 
 
 Now, then, gentlemen, how does the case stand ? Here are two 
 experts standing, at least, upon an equal footing; for, if we claim no 
 superiority for our witness, the gentleman will, at least, admit his 
 equality, when he remembers that he comes to us indorsed by the 
 Vigilance Committee of San Francisco; that he is the great surgeon- 
 general on the staff of the chief marshal of the executive com- 
 mittee of the Vigilance^ Committee. And, by the by, what will the 
 Committee think when they hear that their attorney-general has 
 been trying to deprecate his brother-in-arms, the great surgeon-gen- 
 eral in the staff of the chief marshal ? May it not be that they 
 may expel the attorney-general for such disrespect to his superior 
 officer ? 
 
 Here, then, are two unimpeached witnesses, scientific men, between 
 whose comparative merits you and I (who cannot understand the 
 technical terms they use) cannot determine; the one thinking that 
 in all probability Mr. King died of his wound, and the other well 
 assured that the wound was not mortal, and that he was killed by his 
 physicians. Does not this raise a doubt which must compel a verdict 
 of not guilty ? 
 
 But, if King died of the wound, what was the character of the 
 offense committed by Casey? 
 
 I am going to speak of the deceased, and I will do it frankly and 
 impartially. I knew him well; he was for many years my client; an 
 intimate friend. He was honest, upright, and honorable. This was 
 in the days of his prosperity. He met with sad reverses; he became 
 poor; he returned from his daily labor to a famishing family; he 
 drained the bitter cup of poverty to the very dregs. With some little 
 pecuniary assistance afforded him, he resolved to start a newspaper 
 in the city of San Francisco. At this point my opportunity for per- 
 sonal communication with him was lost. I knew him afterwards, 
 through the columns of the EiilleWi. All of good that I said con- 
 cerning this man is based upon my intimate personal relations with 
 him ; all that was bad in his conduct was matter of public notoriety. 
 He commenced a line of business that was already crowded to suf- 
 focation in the city of San Francisco. It was necessary to call atten- 
 tion to the new paper; it must be striking, else it would not pay; he 
 resolves to cater to the public appetite for slander, but it was his pov- 
 erty, not his will, consented. He takes the New York Herald^ in its 
 earlier days, for his model; he becomes a public libeler and a public 
 nuisance. He is a public brawler too; he professes himself prepared 
 and ready for such an encounter as he at last provoked. He stirs up 
 J* 
 
226 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 heartburnings and strife, and expects to escape the effects of the 
 angry passions he has aroused. As well mig'ht he who throws a brand 
 into a powder-magazine hope to escape the explosion. He utters 
 wholesale defamation, and dares his victim to the encounter. It is 
 Selover to-day, Col. Baker to-morrow. At last he attacks the deceas- 
 ed Casey, alluding to his early aberrations and unfortunate career. 
 Casey seeks an interview to beg him, it may be, to forbear; he pleads 
 his repentance, his hope to bury the past in oblivion, and begs that 
 he may be allowed the opportunity of reform. This ruthless censor 
 of public morals denies the boon, drives him out with contempt and 
 ignominy, and sends forth a number of his abusive sheet, in which he 
 holds Casey up to public scorn, calls him a prison convict, a ballot- 
 box stuffer, and declares that he deserves to be hung upon a gibbet. 
 
 Is it imreasonable to suppose that Casey, stung to madness by such 
 conduct as this, sought King and shot him under the influence of irre- 
 sistible passion? The fact that Casey had been, in reality, an inmate 
 of Sing Sing does not weaken, but rather strengthens, this view of 
 the case. The question is, not how justifiable King may have been, 
 but what state of mind in Casey was this conduct calculated to pro- 
 duce. The law makes allowance for sudden heat and irresistible pas- 
 sion. Casey, says one of the people's witnesses, was a passionate 
 man. Was not this provocation sufl^icient to sting him to madness, 
 and reduce the killing from murder to manslaughter.? Is it possible 
 to confound this act with base assassination } What is it but that 
 vulgar, blackguard, but very common thing, a street fight t This 
 little fellow, Casey, whatever else he may have been, — and God knows 
 he was bad enough, — was brave and magnanimous; and, according 
 to the account of Gen. Estell, who had a better opportunity of hear- 
 ing and seeing than anybody who describes it, it was a fair and equal 
 combat. King, who is armed, is warned, and has full time to draw. 
 He thrusts his hand into his bosom, where, it is afterwards discovered, 
 he had a loaded pistol. Casey advanced fifty-five feet after he 
 attracted King's attention, and warned him to defend himself before 
 he fired. This is the testimony of Estell, and he is the only witness 
 who, from his position, could have seen and heard what passed. 
 Can this be called a cold-blooded murder.? The Covirt will tell you 
 that there can be no accessaries in manslaughter; and if you think 
 Casey was only guilty of manslaughter, you must acquit the defend- 
 ant. 1 
 
 But here the counsel for the statel will talk largely of "the liberty 
 of the press": he will tell you that it is the palladium of freedom, 
 and that the deceased fell a martyr to this great principle. This is 
 all gammon. When we speak of a free press, we mean freedom of 
 speech, liberty to discuss political topics. But private character has 
 always been held sacred by a right-thinking people. The world 
 would become a bear-garden if every man was allowed to say even 
 what he honestly thought of his neighbor: the freedom of speech 
 must be kept in wholesome subjection. The press is a two-edged 
 sword, and may be wielded for good or for evil. All liberty may 
 degenerate into licentiousness; and where there is no restraint, there 
 can be no freedom. 
 
 What would you call him that, daily, through your streets, should 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 227 
 
 denounce his neighbors ? Would not such a one be a common nui- 
 sance ? and when he got his head broke, as he assuredly would, would 
 not the community rejoice? If, instead of confining his pestilential 
 breath to mere words, which die upon the air as they are spoken, he 
 should print them in indelible charafters, and scatter them to the four 
 quarters of the globe, would the offense be less heinous ? or would the 
 stricken offender be more a subje6f of sympathy ? 
 
 The law, it is said, affords a punishment for the libeler; but when, 
 as in this case, the offender can beat you upon the execution, the law 
 becomes impotent. 
 
 The power of the press is despotic. Some one has said that the 
 best form of government is a despotism limited by the power of 
 assassination. If we are to be subjefted to the despotism of the press, 
 let it, at least, be limited by the principle of personal responsibility. 
 
 But, granting that Casey murdered King, how is the defendant im- 
 jilicated in the act ? This brings me to a review of the remaining 
 testimony, which I will hasten over, because my time is limited. And 
 to the hurried nature of this review I submit the jjr6re readily be- 
 cause, really, the testimony is of such a charafter as to make com- 
 ment unnecessary. I assure you, that, when the state closed her evi- 
 dence, I desired to submit this cause to you without argument and 
 without testimony on the part of the defense; but on this I was over- 
 ruled by my client, to whose wishes I was compelled to defer. 
 
 The first testimony at all relevant is that of Mr. Taylor, who tes- 
 tifies that McGowan had a revolver and a derringer loaded at his 
 rooms on the morning of the fatal day. But he states that the prac- 
 tice of wearing arms is universal amongst the most respectable peo- 
 ple of San Francisco; that he is called upon hourly by others, as he 
 was by McGowan; that he had done the same thing for McGowan 
 himself repeatedly before; and that Thomas King, the brother of the 
 deceased, had been to his establishment on a similar errand. 
 
 Curtis — poor old Curtis — testified that he met McGowan and 
 Whiteman, about half-past four, P. M., at Dan's Saloon, where a slim 
 boy, not the boy Butts, came and got Whiteman' s pistol for Casey. 
 Over and above the prevarications and self-contradiftion of this wit- 
 ness, he Is flatly contradifted by Captain Dodge, whose testimony is 
 confirmed by Mr. Grant. According to his own statements, Curtis 
 must have met McGowan at fifteen minutes after four, at the latest; 
 and by Dodge and Grant — making all possible estimate for erroneous 
 estimate of time — we account for McGowan' s whereabouts from four 
 to half-past four. 
 
 But why should I trouble you with comments upon the testimony of 
 this witness ? The prosecution gives him up as a hopeless case. The 
 most Important, nay, the only, witness whose testimony has the slight- 
 est tendency to prove even a knowledge of Casey's intentions, upon 
 the part of the accused-. Is entirely overlooked by the counsel who 
 opened for the state. In a speech of two hours, the testimony of 
 Curtis was never even alluded to. The fact is, the gentlemen from 
 San Francisco came up provided with two strings to their bow. It 
 is necessary that the defendant should be connefted with Whiteman, 
 and Whiteman with Casey. This is the theory of the Indiftment. 
 The testimony to effect this object, the Vigilance Committee had 
 
228 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 ascertained, as we learn from Curtis, could be drawn from two sources: 
 Curtis himself on the one hand, and the boy Butts on the other. But 
 the two stories will not stand together, and, as we have seen, these 
 honorable gentlemen, having, in their trial of McGowan, by chance got- 
 ten hold of Butts first, decline to examine Curtis when, as he says, 
 one of their number could not persuade him to vary his story so as 
 to confirm Butts's statement. What ay^2/r and honorable Xx'vA is afford- 
 ed an absent and unrepresented defendant by that honorable body, the 
 Vigilance Committee ! 
 
 But it so happens that Butts's reputation has been a little tarnished 
 since he was the favorite witness of the Vigilance Committee rooms. 
 Butts is a good boy, no doubt, but the community is prejudiced 
 against Butts : the county jail and the chain-gang have detracted 
 somewhat from Butts's respectability. On the other hand, Curtis is a 
 gray-headed, decent-looking man. So the choice lies between Curtis' s 
 story of the slim boy and Dan's Saloon on the one hand, and the 
 fat boy Butts and the Bank Exchange on the other. After some 
 consideration, they determine in favor of Curtis, but they are both 
 brought up for the trial, as a jockey brings two horses for a race. 
 They will run Curtis unless an accident happens to him. Well, an 
 accident did happen to poor Curtis: he broke down. So, reluctantly 
 and unwillingly upon the part of the state, Butts's irons are knocked 
 off, and he is transferred from his dungeon to the witness-stand 5 and 
 Curtis is as completely forgotten by his old friends as if he had never 
 lived. 
 
 (Here Mr. Heslep stated that he had left that part of the prt)secu- 
 tion to his associate, Gov. Foote, who would take care of Curtis. ) 
 
 Mr. Botts — That, then, is the game, is it ? Then it stands thus: 
 Heslep, Butts; Foote and Curtis. Why this division? Was it that 
 Curtis was too heavy a load for the first gentleman, and that it needs 
 all the strength of an ex-governor and an ex-senator to pack 
 the old man through ? Gentlemen, is a man to be tried for his life 
 upon testimony such as this ? 
 
 Taking now the testimony of Butts, and yielding to the tacit request 
 of the opening counsel that we should forget that Curtis had ever 
 been upon the stand, we trace McGowan every foot of the way and 
 through every moment of time from four o'clock, when he first ap- 
 pears in the company of Captain Dodge, until we find him at tlie 
 corner of Washington and Kearny streets, when the fatal shot is 
 fired. Thus it is that not only has the counsel for the state failed to 
 redeem his promise of showing McGowan at his station prepared to 
 perform his role in the murder of King, but the defense, by the 
 greatest good fortune, has been enabled to establish the negative of 
 the proposition, thus bringing himself even within the new rule 
 propounded by the representative of the Vigilance Committee, that 
 a man must be held guilty unless he can prove his innocence. Not 
 one tittle of evidence has been offered even tending to show a con- 
 spiracy between Casey, Whiteman, and McGowan to murder King. 
 Not a particle of evidence to show that McGowan ever saw King, or 
 entertained the slightest acrimony against him. The only attempt 
 that has been made is to raise a suspicion that McGowan or White- 
 man furnished the fatal weapon. You are left, T presume, imder 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 229 
 
 this new doftrine of the attorney-general of the Vigilance Commit- 
 tee to guess that the pistol, if furnished, was furnished for the pur- 
 pose of aiding in murder; you must cleanse your heart of all chari- 
 table and Christian feelings, as if you were jnembers of the Vigilance 
 Committee. You must never draw an inference in favor of the pris- 
 oner. You must not suppose it possible that Casey told him he 
 wanted the pistol for lawful purposes. From the mere fad of loan- 
 ing a pistol you must infer a heart devoid of social virtue, and consign 
 a human being to a felon's grave. 
 
 There was one phrase used by the opening counsel, against which I 
 must enter my protest. He frequently called me his "friend Botts." 
 Now, the present condition of my client admonishes that the friend- 
 ship of one who comes under the ban of the Vigilance Committee is a 
 dangerous thing. Many attempts, unsuccessful it is true, have been 
 made to establish this relation between McGowan and Casey. Now, 
 suppose it should please the Vigilance Committee to hang instead of 
 expelling their attorney-general for his bad conduct to the surgeon- 
 general, how then might it fare with me if they could prove that I 
 had permitted him to call me his friend in this public manner, without 
 contradiction ? Under the circumstances, I prefer to imitate the 
 sagacity and prudence of my experienced friend Governor Foote, and 
 occupy the position of a neutral until further developments. 
 
 Yes, gentlemen, I was not less surprised than grieved to hear my 
 respefted friend the Governor — one of the first citizens in the com- 
 monwealth — declare, in the progress of this trial, that when the state 
 was shaken to its center, when five thousand men in arms — a motley 
 crew of foreigners and disaffected citizens — arrayed themselves against 
 the laws of the land, at a time when all agreed that the state was 
 in imminent danger, — that at such a time my friend remained neutral. 
 
 (Here Governor Foote interrupted Mr. Botts, and said he never 
 used the term "neutral." Mr. Botts insisted that he had repeatedly 
 used the term, in which he was supported by several of the bystand- 
 ers, but suggested that the Governor had a right now to explain what 
 he meant. The Governor then said, that all he intended to say was, 
 that, during those exciting times, he was perfectly calm, and took part 
 with neither side. Mr. Botts contended that the explanation was only 
 a good definition of the word "neutral," and proceeded. ) 
 
 But, gentlemen, it is neither the law nor the evidence that we have 
 to fear upon this occasion; for there is no testimony in the case that 
 any more tends to connect the defendant, than any of the witnesses 
 who have appeared upon the stand, with this homicide. Indeed, 
 whilst others seem to have been on the lookout for some violent 
 result to this affair between Casey and King, he appears either ignorant 
 of or indifferent to the approaching fight, and is found walking from 
 the expefted scene of aftion. 
 
 It is not, then, the testimony, but the influence of that once power- 
 ful organization known as the Vigilance Committee of San Francisco, 
 that we have to dread. And, gentlemen, who and what are these 
 men, that their behests are to be regarded by you ? What are they 
 but a band of traitors who have raised their sacrilegious hands 
 against their country ? W'^hat is there about them to make them 
 respeihible ? Is it because they have degraded the character of our 
 
230 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 free institutions in the eyes of the civiHzed world? Is it because they 
 have chilled the hopes of the philanthropist, and proved that the g^reat 
 problem of self-g-overnment remains still unsolved? Is it because 
 they overawed our people with foreign mercenaries, snatched up our 
 citizens into their infernal slaughter-house, and thrust their strangled 
 bodies from the windows, or else, in mockery, threw us out the bloody 
 corpse, saying, "See where he killed himself!" 
 
 But we are told that there are good men amongst them. O, yes ! 
 No doubt of it. There were good men, too, in the crowd that followed 
 the Son of God up the Mount of Calvary. There were honest fanat- 
 ics, no doubt, amongst the fiends that perpetrated the massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew. What motives actuated these men can never be 
 known certainly to any but the Great Searcher of all hearts, but, 
 with our limited perceptions, we are compelled to derive motives 
 from acts. And if the killing of King by Casey justifies us, as our 
 opponents say it does, in concluding that Casey possessed a heart 
 devoid of social virtue, why should the murder of Casey and Cora by 
 the Vigilance Committee lead to the inference that its members are 
 mild, gentle, and loving Christians ? 
 
 Think not, whatever may be my detestation of their crimes, that I 
 am animated by feelings of hostility towards these men. That feel- 
 ing has been long since absorbed in pity. They have unlawfully 
 taken the lives of their fellow-men. The Great Avenger is on their 
 track. "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be 
 shed." They have awakened from their bloody frenzy to find them- 
 selves surrounded by dangers. They are murderers in the "eyes of 
 the law, and in the eyes of all Christian communities. As has been 
 well said of them, whilst they have banished their miserable victims 
 from San Francisco, they have exiled themselves from the balance 
 of the world. The circle is constantly narrowing around them, and 
 the time will come when they cannot find a corner of the world in 
 which to hide their heads. 
 
 But, gentlemen, I am admonished that my time is up, and I must 
 conclude by thanking you for the profound attention with which you 
 have listened to my remarks. 
 
 Closing Speech of Governor Foote. 
 
 Gov. Foote said, that, limited as he was for time, he should endeavor 
 to compress as much as possible, and not pretend to give to the many 
 topics which presented themselves the degree of attention their im- 
 portance really demanded; and throughout the whole of his speech 
 he evidently labored under the fear of exhausting the short time 
 allowed him by the limit to the session of the court. He also spoke 
 very rapidly, and the notes taken so hastily can only represent de- 
 tached parts of his speech. 
 
 He said that he did not agree with the counsel for the defense in 
 any of the legal propositions they had laid down. If he did not 
 really believe that the prosecution had clearly made out a case, he 
 trusted he should have had the honesty to have urged the entering of 
 a nolle prosequi. They have misrepresented every feature of the evi- 
 dence and every legal proposition arising in the case. 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 231 
 
 Notwithstanding all our protests, said he, both counsel insist on 
 drag-g-ing the Vigilance Committee issue into this trial. Both have 
 attacked the Committee, and coarsely assailed and vilified its mem- 
 bers in a way never before suffered by any honorable body of men. 
 He next passed a high eulogium upon the Committee and its acts, 
 and said, that, although, being a lawyer, and residing across the bay 
 from San Francisco, he could not, consistently wath his ideas of pro- 
 priety, unite with them, he approved and indorsed all their acts. He 
 had only interfered to bring about peace, and for that purpose had 
 seen the Governor, and spoke with authority when he now said, that, 
 had Governor Johnson listened to him, within five days the Com- 
 mittee would have been disbanded entirely, and all the subsequent 
 difficulties avoided. The Governor himself ordered the Sheriff to 
 surrender the jail; and when the pilot and captain thus forsook the 
 siiip, the crew were forced to take charge. They did so, and have 
 covered themselves with a glory, of which the gentlemen on the other 
 side can never deprive them. Gibbets were erected, and blood did 
 flow, but not freely, as was said by the defense; they spared many. 
 Among them were Judge Terry, and McNab, one of their own wit- 
 nesses. Governor Foote also spoke of his having urged Judge Terry 
 to return to his place, as he might have to sit as judge on the very 
 issues then raised in San Francisco; and he told him that Chief 
 Justice Marshall would never have acted thus. But Terry rejected 
 his advice, and thus got into difficulty. Mr. Botts, said Governor 
 Foote, has lately been so successful in defending the worst criminals 
 in the state, that his sense of moral rectitude has been considerably 
 shaken, and he has been using the same kind of arguments in this 
 case as in theirs. If he succeeds in having this and all his other 
 clients set loose, he will make California such a hell upon earth as 
 never existed since the days of Adam. 
 
 Mr. King has been disparagingly alluded to, and justice to the 
 illustrious dead required that a reply should be given. Mr. Coffroth 
 said he had known McGowan in the legislature of Pennsylvania. 
 Satan was once in heaven, but he was ejected, and thrown over the 
 battlements. He supposed the gentleman on the other side did not 
 also sympathize with His Satanic Majesty, merely because he had 
 fallen from his high estate, as McGowan did. They eulogize Casey, 
 too, and Mr. Botts said he had known him. What does the paper 
 that they have admitted in evidence show? That he was an unfor- 
 tunate ballot-box stuffer. He came to California to reform, did he? 
 I, too, have known Mr. King; and justice to the memory of the illus- 
 trious dead requires that I should speak of him. He then said he 
 had known Mr. King's father, years ago, in Washington, and that 
 his son had been educated and brought up properly. He passed a 
 high eulogium upon the deceased as a man, a citizen, a husband and 
 father, and in his latest position as an editor. An imperious neces- 
 sity existed in San Francisco for just such a paper. He did his duty 
 fully, fairly, and faithfully; and because he did so he was murdered. 
 In the words of one of our domestic poets, — 
 
 " He died at liis post doing duty ! " 
 
 Here, in your presence, gentlemen of the jury, the ashes of the 
 
232 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 dead have been ruthlessly disturbed, and, to use one of Mr. Botts's 
 own expressions, I expect that he will not be able to repose in quiet 
 upon his pillow until he has made reparation and atonement to the 
 memory of the illustrious dead. They eulogize Casey and Cora, and 
 sympathize with the crew which the Vigilance Committee rose to 
 drive out. Had the Vigilance Committee not been successful, and if 
 that crew had continued uninterruptedly to rule over us, I would 
 sooner take up my residence in the infernal regions than continue to 
 live in this state. And so would every man who is the father of a 
 family, and who has proper feelings and a proper sense of propriety. 
 But, say they, Mr. King brought his death upon himself. They say 
 that was a very abusive article. I deny it. It is a charitable, a 
 liberal, and a just article. [Here he read the article.] If that is 
 abusive and vile, how shall we characterize the language of those 
 gentlemen here this evening? Why, I would not call it by its right 
 name. Billingsgate is a term I never apply to remarks of gentlemen. 
 Mr. King offered to rectify any wrong he had done, if the error was 
 shown him. How many editors of the present day would do so ? 
 And the gentlemen say that such an article made Mr. King deserve 
 the death he met ! And they justify the act ! 
 
 Mr. Botts — Governor, Governor ! I did not. I ^aid it was a 
 provocation which reduced the criminality of the act from murder to 
 manslaughter. 
 
 Gov. Foote — The gentleman said I would have done so. 
 
 Mr. Botts — I did not. 
 
 Gov. Foote — Well, no matter what his words were. He does say 
 it was a manslaughter. I say it was not. It was a cold-blooded, 
 premeditated, villainous murder! the most fiendish, cowardly, infernal 
 outrage ever committed. [Here he again read from the article.] 
 Mr. Botts thinks it very abusive for Mr. King to say that Casey 
 ought to be hung. I say it, the man who would stuff a ballot-box 
 ought to be hung; and if Mr. King, having a knowledge of the fact 
 that Casey had done this act, had failed to publish it, he would have 
 failed to do his duty as an editor, and would have been unworthy of 
 his position. 
 
 Gov. Foote then spoke of the testimony of the physicians. Mr. 
 Botts says the testimony of Dr. Cole raises a doubt in your minds, 
 the benefit of which his client must have. But Dr. Cole may talk as 
 he did forever, and may bring as many ugly, stinking corpses into 
 court as he pleases, (and, in my opinion, that comes the nearest of 
 anything in the world to humbug, ) but he never could produce a 
 doubt in my mind, or in any of your minds, that Mr. King did actu- 
 ally die from the effects of the wound inflicted upon him by Casey. 
 Counsel next contrasted Dr. Cole with Dr. Toland, and his compari- 
 son was very unfavorable to the former. Mr. Botts, continued Gov. 
 Foote, thought to compare me with Casey ! and speaks of what I 
 would probably do if an abusive newspaper article was written about 
 me. He said he had been attacked by the press, and, he felt con- 
 vinced, by hireling editors who were paid to injure him, but he defied 
 the defense to point to an act of his which would justify them in at- 
 tempting to draw such a parallel. It is not, either, true, in point of 
 fact, said he, that I ever loaned my pistols to one man to shoot down 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 233 
 
 his fellow-man, or to fight a duel with. But the gentleman himself, 
 and all who are acquainted with me, know that I have always and 
 many a time interfered to prevent bloodshed and infractions of the 
 law. 
 
 Speaking of Gen. Estell's testimony, he said it was intended to 
 suggest a doubt whether Mr. King drew his pistol. Understand me, 
 I do not accuse him of perjury. But Estell is the only one who 
 speaks to that point. Others were nearer than he was, and on the 
 qui ^i^z>e, and had their attention directed as much as his. They did 
 not hear those words. I think he has slept and dreamt on it, and 
 drawn on his imagination for his facts. He ought to have treated his 
 memory with more consideration. 
 
 Gov. Foote said he should not attempt to defend San Francisco 
 from the attacks of this young man (Coffroth). He is able, and will 
 doubtless attain to eminence in his profession. But a man so young 
 as he had no right to charge that the people of San Francisco labor 
 under depraved tastes in any particular. Until he can give satisfac- 
 tory evidence that his own tastes are refined in every particular, he 
 ought not to set himself up as a judge in Israel ! Mr. Coffroth 
 speaks of his acquaintance with McGowan. He (Gov. Foote) did 
 not know the prisoner at the bar, and God forbid that he should do 
 him injustice. He knew nothing concerning his family in Philadel- 
 phia, and whether he was always a kind, affectionate husband and 
 father, or whether he was neglectful, dissolute, and vicious. These 
 facts not being in the record either way, the jury could pay no atten- 
 tion to them. 
 
 Gov. Foote then commenced to run rapidly over the evidence. 
 This distinguished Pennsylvania legislator, it appears, early on the 
 fatal morning, got a big navy revolver and a certain yellow-mounted 
 derringer loaded. Not satisfied with such an armory, he gets also a 
 knife. The wolf was early in his walk. What was the emergency 
 that required this arming and extra-arming? Then, when he read 
 the article in the paper, he made a threat, that "Casey would attend 
 to that." And now Captain Dodge attempts to testify where Mc- 
 Gowan was that day. Captain Dodge is a very fine young man, but 
 /le drmks hard. If there is anything that enfeebles the memory and 
 confuses the faculties, it is strong drink. And he was as full as a 
 tick that day, and, by his own testimony, drank four times in half an 
 hour. Now he tries to remember where he was, and the time. Such 
 testimony is not worthy of attention. My calculation of the time 
 required to go where he said he went would just bring McGowan 
 back onto Montgomery Street in time to be at the scene of the murder 
 when it occurred. Mr. Botts may make his calculations, and you, 
 gentlemen of the jury, must make your own. Then there is the boy 
 Butts, who, in my opinion, has been lied on a great deal. Mr. Cof- 
 froth does not call his testimony in question. He told the truth. 
 Just before the murder, McGowan and Whiteman were on the spot, 
 at the Bank Exchange, and McGowan sent Whiteman out to see 
 what Casey wanted. They were on the lookout! The defendant's 
 counsel have called in question the truth of the testimony of our ven- 
 erable witness, Curtis; yet never have I seen counsel so exercised 
 and taken down as when he was delivering it. Whv, Mr. Botts 
 [16] 
 
234 Nan-ative of Edward McGowan 
 
 could not sit still in his seat, and was unable even civilly to receive 
 suggestions from his associate counsel, such was his rage and anger 
 as the evidence bore against them. Mr. Curtis was not examined by 
 the Vigilance Committee concerning Casey's guilt. They did not 
 need him. He was not an eye-witness of the transaction. Had they 
 taken his testimony, they would have come to the same conclusion as 
 every sensible man, that the boy who came to Whiteman in Dan's 
 Saloon was not Butts, and that the two incidents spoken of by Butts 
 and Curtis were separate and distinct. 
 
 Now, about the pistols. If not McGowan' s, — particularly the gold- 
 hilted one, — whose do you suppose they were? Why did they not 
 produce them here ? Casey was led away — in triumph, armed cap-a- 
 pie — by Whiteman, the friend of McGowan, and who iiad been his 
 companion through all the day; and he received the pistol of Casey. 
 Why was he not brought here, with the pistol, as a witness for his 
 friend ? He could have set the matter beyond all doubt, and cleared 
 away all suspicions, perhaps. 
 
 Gov. Foote afterwards gave from the legal authorities the defini- 
 tion of an accessary. He is one who stands by, — which is, in sight, or 
 near enough to conveniently render help if necessary to accomplish 
 the crime. An accessary may also hire or employ others to com- 
 mit the crime for him. If the jury believe that McGowan employed 
 Whiteman to help Casey, they must bring in a verdict of guilty. 
 He also, in a hurried manner, read from Russell on Crimes, con- 
 cerning conspirators, and the part a person nuist take in the com- 
 mission of an act to render him one. 
 
 As to the treatment of wounds, it is held that if a mortal disease 
 grows out of a wound given by another, and the wounded man dies 
 of the disease, nevertheless the wound itself must be regarded as the 
 causa causata, — the true cause of the death, — for without it the man 
 would never have had the disease. Speaking of the testimony of 
 the physicians, Gov. Foote said Dr. Toland was evidently a man of 
 greater acquirements and experience than Dr. Cole, and was not to 
 be put down by him, even if their opinions did conflict. The five 
 other physicians would weigh Dr. Cole's evidence down any hour. 
 Concerning the testimony of Stillman, that Mr. King had a pistol 
 on him, counsel said that, notwithstanding all Gen. Estell's testimony, 
 that of the other witnesses made it clear that Mr. King only raised 
 his hand after he was shot, to press it upon the wound. He was 
 armed in accordance with that provision of the constitution which 
 permits every citizen to bear arms in his own defense, — /// his on.v7i 
 defense, — not as a murderer. When the defendant's counsel 
 resorted to arguments with so little foundation as those they argued 
 upon this point, it shows they are hard run for facts. 
 
 We do not, as the defendant's counsel said, intend to insist that 
 McGowan fled from this indictment. He did undoubtedly fly through 
 terror of the Vigilance Committee, for our courts he had defied 
 before. But they tell us he has been persecuted. Persecuted! perse- 
 cuted ! ! And by whom } Has any man before been indicted for 
 murder and escaped even a governor's proclamation? Or had a 
 special legislative act passed for his benefit ? McGowan was in Sac- 
 ramento, — in the same city with the Governor. Was he in jail? No; 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 235 
 
 he associated with other gentlemen on the public streets. And here, 
 too, he was only committed to jail after the opening of the Court. It 
 is unfair and ungenerous for the defense to make use of such word or 
 argument in this case. 
 
 In a few words more. Gov. Foote then hastily closed his argument, 
 and submitted the case. This was at half-past eleven o'clock. 
 
 Charge of Judge McKinstry. 
 
 Judge McKinstry, on the bench, then made a lengthy charge to 
 the jury, which, owing to the short time allowed, was not put in writ- 
 ing. It occupied twenty minutes in its delivery. Judge McKinstry 
 said he was glad the case had been so ably presented to the jury, as it 
 rendered unnecessary many explanations of the law which otherwise 
 it would have been his duty to make. It had been told to them that 
 there was a period in the history of the state when the laws were sub- 
 verted, and a certain organization usurped the power of the courts. 
 With such matters of history they have nothing to do, and no exami- 
 nations to make into them. Here no power but that of the laws 
 operates; no other organization has a representation, and no notions 
 of justice must be entertained, except that administered by established 
 authority. 
 
 Every citizen has rights, which are not to be affected by popular 
 clamor, or the demands, for or against him, of an ill-regulated press. 
 The crime of which the prisoner stands charged is that of murder, 
 and, by our statutes, all distinctions between the mode of proceeding 
 against principals and accessaries are abolished. Hence, if you are 
 satisfied that James King met his death under such circumstances as 
 constituted the crime of rtuirder, and that the defendant assisted in 
 or counseled the act, then you are bound to find him guilty. If, 
 however, you find that the crime committed was that of manslaughter, 
 that crime implies no malice, but a sudden killing in the heat of pas- 
 sion, and there can be no accessary; therefore you would have to 
 acquit the defendant. From the testimony offered by the two phy- 
 sicians, you have to determine whether Mr. King died from the 
 effect of the wound itself or it was the result of malpractice. If from 
 the wound, then the death was the result of the act itself; but if the 
 result of the mode of treatment pursued by the physicians, then you 
 have no further examination to make, and must acquit the defendant. 
 If a person receive a wound, not in itself mortal, which superinduces 
 a disease afterwards, causing death, this is murder; but if the treat- 
 ment produce a new disease, which proves fatal, then the party inflict- 
 ing the wound is not guilty of murder. I understood Doctor Toland 
 to say that the wound caused lesion of the vein, and injury of the 
 nerves in its vicinity, and, as another consequence, inflammation of 
 the lining of the chest, which, with an inflammation of the vein itself, 
 caused death. Doctor Cole says the wound itself was not mortal, 
 but that death was caused by ill-treatment, and he proceeded to 
 speak of the irritation caused by the use of the sponge and tourniquet, 
 which, in his opinion, caused the fatal disease of phlebitis, or inflam- 
 mation of the vein. 
 
 The question thus stands, and is one of fact for you to determine. 
 
236 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 Pay, therefore, due attention to the statements of the physicians, and 
 draw your own conclusions. If you believe Mr. King's death resulted 
 from the shot itself, then the question is. What was the crime? If 
 only manslaughter, then there can be no accessary, and no conviction 
 of the defendant under this indictment. A newspaper article, how- 
 ever violent, unaccompanied by a personal assault, is not a sufficient 
 provocation to reduce a killing from murder to manslaughter. If you 
 are satisfied of the first point and not of the second, it will then be 
 your duty to convict of murder in the second degree, if the defend- 
 ant was present; but if not present, then he cannot be guilty. Mur- 
 der in the second degree implies malice; express malice is to be 
 evidenced by the case, as poisoning or lying in wait, — a deliberate 
 intention must necessarily be proven. The presence of a party does 
 not establish the fact that he aids or abets a crime. To convict, you 
 must be convinced that there was some prior agreement or concert of 
 action between them, or that he was at some convenient distance, 
 ready to assist. If you believe the defendant did advise, counsel, and 
 abet, at any previous time, this crime, you must convict, if you deem 
 it murder in the first degree. You are to determine the credibility of 
 witnesses by all the circumstances connected with their evidence, by 
 the corroboration of other witnesses, or any other circumstances 
 brought to light. 
 
 If you are satisfied a witness has made an intentional misstate- 
 ment, you must reject all his testimony; but if mistaken on a single 
 point, this need not invalidate his other testimony. If you find two 
 witnesses conflicting, it is your duty to ascertain, if possible, which is 
 correct, and if you cannot do this, to discard the evidence of both. 
 If, after a fair examination of all the facts and testimony, you still 
 have a reasonable doubt as to the guilt of the prisoner, you nmst 
 acquit. The mere knowledge, on the part of a person, that a crime is 
 to be committed, and his not making it known, does not constitute 
 an offense. Neither does mere permission to commit a crime consti- 
 tute an offense. If the jury are of the opinion that Casey committed 
 a murder, and are not satisfied that the defendant aided and abetted 
 the crime, they must acquit him. With these remarks, gentlemen of 
 the jury, I leave the case in your hands. 
 
 Verdict of the Jury — Discharge of McGovvan. 
 
 At ten minutes to 12 o'clock, the jury retired, under the charge of 
 an officer, to make up their verdict. After an absence of about ten 
 minutes, the jury returned. The foreman rendered the verdict of 
 "Not Guilty," and each of the jurors separately agreed to it. 
 
 Mr. Coffroth asked if the prisoner was discharged. The Judge 
 said, "No, not yet," as the verdict was not yet entered upon the 
 minutes. The clerk made the entry, and read it aloud. Mr. Cof- 
 froth then formally moved for his discharge, which was done, and his 
 friends surrounded him with the warmest congratulations. 
 
 The Acquittal. — The acquittal of McGowan, in the recent trial 
 at Napa, can hardly have taken any one by surprise, who was at all 
 conversant with the circumstances under which the indictment was 
 found. In ordinary times, probably no such indictment would have 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 237 
 
 been found by the Grand Jury. A charge of the character alleged in 
 the indictment is difficult to sustain generally, and in this case be- 
 came doubly difficult. Indeed, the prosecution did not and could not 
 sustain the charge with proof which would justify a jury in finding a 
 verdict of guilty. The trial, however, presents some very singular 
 features, which we may examine hereafter at more length. The 
 counsel for the defense managed so adroitly as to have every man who 
 had ever expressed an opinion favoring the movement of the Vigi- 
 lance Committee, excluded from the jury. Legally, the Vigilance 
 question had nothing to do with the trial of McGow-an, and we do not 
 see how such a question could have been properly propounded to a 
 man who had been summoned to serve as a juror. After having ex- 
 cluded from the jury all those who ever favored the Vigilance move, 
 McGowan' s counsel managed to try, to a limited extent, the Vigi- 
 lance Committee with McGowan. — Sacramento Union of June 2d. — 
 Vigilance Press. 
 
 Ed. McGowan' s Trial. — This famous trial closed at 12 o'clock 
 on Monday night last. The prosecution made out no case against 
 the defendant. Indeed, there was not evidence enough against him to 
 hang a cat — and so thought the jury, for in just ten minutes from 
 the time of their leaving the courtroom, they returned a verdict of 
 Not Guilty. There was nothing whatever even tending to show any 
 complicity in the death of Mr. King, or any connection, direct or 
 indirect, with Casey in the transaction. And yet, had this man, 
 now triumphantly acquitted after an impartial trial, fallen into the 
 hands of the Vigilance Committee, he would have been hung, to a 
 dead certainty. This case should teach the people of California the 
 gross injustice, tyranny, and ci;uelty of which masses of men may be- 
 come guilty when acting under excitement. A citizen, whom the 
 laws of his country now declare innocent, has been hunted for months 
 like a wild beast, driven from one hiding-place to another, — an exile 
 even in his own country, with a reward on his head, — and exposed to 
 all the perils and sufferings of a life of outlawry. The law gives him 
 no redress. It merely declares that there is no stain of blood upon 
 his hands. We are not the indorsers of Mr. McGowan, nor do we 
 know whether he is a good or a bad man ; but this we do know : that 
 if extreme and long-continued suffering under a false accusation can 
 entitle a man to popular sympathy, Ned should receive it. Commu- 
 nities should acknowledge and atone for their errors, no less than 
 individuals. — Napa Reporter. 
 
 With feelings not easy to describe, I left the courtroom 
 surrounded by swarms of congratulating friends. 
 
 Notwithstanding the ceaseless efforts of one Charles 
 Hartsen (who disgraces the county bench of Napa County) 
 to hunt up perjured testimony against me; notwithstanding 
 the manifest perjury of the witness Curtis, who so miser- 
 ably entangled himself in the mazes of falsehood, — I was 
 declared acquitted and free ! As for Judge Hartsen, and 
 
238 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 many others not now mentioned in connection with the bold 
 attempt to rob me of my life by false swearing, I shall here- 
 after have more to say. As to the poor wretch Curtis, the 
 mere report of whose testimony in the case must so surely 
 consign him to infamy in the estimation of all just men who 
 read it, I have nothing to say. If he can endure the con- 
 sciousness of having attempted to rob a fellow-creature of 
 his life, and at the same time damned his own soul,yor hire^ 
 I can forget the temporary annoyance which his unspeak- 
 able villainy occasioned me. 
 
 In closing this history of my trial, I will call the reader's 
 attention to the significant fact, that not one of the witnesses 
 who testified at Napa as to my connection with the shoot- 
 ing of Mr. King, ever testified, either before the Grand 
 Jury or Mr. J. Horace Kent, the coroner of San Fran- 
 cisco. The inquest-papers were furnished by Mr. Kent 
 himself to my counsel, Mr. Coffroth, and a friend procured 
 the record of the Grand Jury. Thus it will be seen that 
 the evidence which was strong enough to procure my indict- 
 ment was not considered by the prosecution sufficiently 
 strong safely to go to trial upon ; and, even after their 
 utmost efforts to strengthen their case in every possible 
 manner, the fact that I was triumphantly acquitted is a 
 sufficient commentary on the unjust and cruel fanaticism 
 which alone demanded and obtained my indictment. 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 "l said I was not what I seemed; 
 
 And now tliou seest my words were true: 
 I have a tale tliou hast not dreamed. 
 
 If sooth — its truth must others rue." 
 
 Bride ofAhydos. 
 
 As I HAVE now reached the end of my narrative, before bidding 
 farewell to the reader I will dispose of some of the leading characters 
 who figured in my adventures in the lower country. The woman 
 whose house sheltered me while I was wrapped in the carpet at Santa 
 Barbara, I have never since seen. I learned, however, before I left 
 that county, that her husband was in the state prison, where he had 
 been sentenced for loaning his gun to another person, who killed a 
 man with it. The poor fellow, who was thus implicated in the crime, 
 was ignorant of the intention of the borrower. In gratitude for the 
 
Narrative of Edward McGowan 239 
 
 good offices of his wife, when I was so sorely in need of a friend, I 
 interested myself with some of my influential friends, at the capital 
 and elsewhere, to have the case fully represented to the Governor, 
 and not long since had the pleasure to see the executive clemency 
 interposed, and the man restored to the arms of his good wife. 
 
 As to Jack Power, to whose courage and fidelity I unquestionably 
 owe my life, words can never express the gratitude I feel for him. 
 If, in the course of this story, I have alluded to transgressions with 
 which he was charged, I have not done so from any belief of his guilt, 
 but simply to show how unlikely it is that one who had acted so gen- 
 erously and honorably to a persecuted stranger should be guilty of 
 such offenses as some of his enemies have hinted against him. 
 
 Pedro, who tried to sell me to my enemies when I was placing 
 confidence in his promises of friendship, I forgive. I never desire, 
 however, to see him, for I would fain spare him the mortification of 
 looking upon my face. As to his brave and faithful wife, the senora, 
 I live in the hope that some day it may be in my power to evince my 
 gratitude to her and her children, and apologize for the hasty depart- 
 ure I took from her hospitable protection. 
 
 Good Doctor Den, and his family, I hope soon to take again by the 
 hands and renew my thousand thanks for their generous friendship 
 in my hour of peril. 
 
 And now, in bidding the reader farewell, let me say to him, that, 
 if he has done me the honor to follow me through the preceding 
 pages, I thank him for the compliment, and assure him that I attrib- 
 ute his patience more to the interest with which my story has in- 
 vested a principle, than to any intrinsic merit which the book itself 
 may possess. If, perchance, he has honestly differed with me in his 
 opinions as to the "Vigilance Committee," so long as he has acted 
 conscientiously, and been more the instrument than the director in 
 the unhappy proceedings of that organization, I have in my heart no 
 room for malice against him, but I sincerely hope that, in the future, 
 the lesson of the last year will be to him something of a guide, should 
 his strength of mind again be similarly tested. For him my story is 
 told. But there are others, for whom I have not yet laid down my 
 pen. A task less pleasing than that which I have just accomplished 
 is now before me. If the simplicity and truthfulness with which I 
 have sought to characterize this little story of my wrongs is any guar- 
 anty that what may come from me hereafter will be relialie, I have 
 the satisfaction of knowing that I have perhaps prepared the public 
 mind, calmly and dispassionately, to reason with me when I shall 
 
f K 
 
 240 Narrative of Edward McGowan 
 
 attempt the task of removing- the specious tissue which veils the hide- 
 ousness of treason, and temporarily prevents the putrescence of hypoc- 
 risy from offending the senses. 
 
 Unpleasant as is this task, I shall not shrink from it. In accord- 
 ance with the views which first prompted me to intrude myself upon 
 the notice of the public at all, I shall, in discharge of a duty which I 
 still think may result usefully to my fellow-citizens, make it my 
 special business to show the honest men, who have thoughtlessly em- 
 barked on the tide of conspiracy, how miserably they have taken the 
 chances of moral and social wreck at the hands of the pilots to whom 
 they have intrusted themselves. 
 
 With regard to the success of this volume, I can only await anxiously 
 the verdict of the public. With all its imperfections, — its inaccuracies 
 of expression, its manifold marks of haste, and sometimes, I fear, of 
 carelessness, — it must go forth to the world, to sink or swim, upon its 
 own merits. If the press of California but give this little waif upon 
 the stream of literature a fair consideration, I am not without hope 
 that, after every just censure shall have been passed upon its demerits, 
 enough of approbation may be expressed to comfort its author with 
 the reflection that his labor has not been all in vain. 
 
 There is, however, one press in this state, and only one, whose 
 commendations would strike painfully upon my ear. Were any 
 emanation from my pen to receive the encomiums of the San Fran- 
 cisco Evening Bulletin, I should feel that I had indeed most signally 
 failed in the honest object of this book, and that it was justly a target 
 for the most envenomed shafts of criticism. 
 
 The plaudits of one who has made personal infamy a stepping- 
 stone to rebellion, who has thrown around craven cowardice a halo of 
 glory, who has gilded slander with the sunbeams of justice, and in- 
 vested hypocrisy with the attributes of religion, are not coveted by 
 me. Let him rather open to their widest extent the sluice-gates of 
 his filth, and vomit forth his disgusting spleen, lest with the retention 
 of it he should not only damn this book, but, bursting himself, engen- 
 der a moral pestilence in the land. 
 
 To the rest of the press of California I commend my book, trust- 
 ing and believing that, if it is thought worthy of notice at all, it will 
 receive fair consideration, and to the reader, who has honored me 
 thus far, I repeat my thanks, and bid him an affectionate farewell. 
 
 FINIS 
 
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