LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 DDD2D2S7210 
 
Class _Jrj^_^ 
 
 Book _£?: 
 
 (lOffyriglitN" j_ 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS 
 

ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 HIS OWN STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 BURTON B. PORTER 
 
 «^ 
 
 PUBLISHED BT THE JUTHOR 
 
E'cool 
 
 JUBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Cooies Received 
 
 APR 30 1907 
 
 A £*pyrirht Entry 
 
 Copyright, 1907, 
 By burton B. PORTER 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Were I writing the preface to the biography of some 
 other fellow it would be, if slang were permissible, dead 
 easy, but to write a preface to an autobiography is embar- 
 rassing, to say the least. Place yourself before a full length 
 plate glass mirror and take a good look at the person you are 
 going to talk about. What can you say about him ? 
 
 The result of such an attempt would necessarily be more 
 or less egotistical, and in this, as in other similar efforts, the 
 I's have it, no doubt. To tell the truth and state facts will 
 force egotism to the surface, no matter how much you try 
 to suppress it. 
 
 I have no apologies to make for any shortcomings in the 
 narrative. It is simply the story of a plain, unpretentious 
 citizen of a great country where each life is one of the rest- 
 less atoms in the teeming sea of humanity. It tells what 
 happened to one of these lives, and what it caused to happen 
 to others during seventy-five years of existence, and, with 
 the exception of some episodes out of the ordinary experi- 
 ences of men, it will have, to a large extent, its counterpart 
 in that of millions of the common citizens who are ever 
 struggling for the something beyond. 
 
 i The ups and downs in life's earlier years, and in the period 
 of manhood; in peace and in war; in prison and out of 
 prison ; in sickness and in health ; in travels on land and on 
 sea; in business and out of business, in love and otherwise, 
 
 iii 
 
iv PREFACE 
 
 with all its changing vicissitudes, make up the story as here 
 written down with no attempt at embellishment, but with a 
 strict adherence to truth. 
 
 I hope this record of a somewhat strenuous career may 
 have a passing interest to a busy but sympathetic genera- 
 tion of fellow-workers. If the reader may draw from it 
 some moral as well as some practical lessons, it will, per- 
 haps, prove useful as well as, I trust, entertaining. 
 
 B. B. P. 
 
 CoLTON, California, 
 October, 1906. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I Boyhood Days i 
 
 II Aspirations 15 
 
 III Seeking a Fortune 25 
 
 IV Life in the Gold Diggings 39 
 
 V Home Again 71 
 
 VI Enlistment for the War 94 
 
 VII In the Army 112 
 
 VIII The Battle Field. . . . . . . .138 
 
 IX My Capture and Escape 151 
 
 X Under the Stars and Stripes Again . . .221 
 
 XI Ups and Downs in Business Life 236 
 
 XII How TO Raise Trout 277 
 
 XIII In California Again 288 
 
 XIV Closing Events 342 
 
DEDICATED TO ANY AMERICAN FOOLISH 
 ENOUGH TO SPEND HIS TIME IN READING THE 
 HISTORY OF A COMMON MAN WHO IS NEITHER A 
 FOOL NOR A WISE MAN. IT IS A SIMPLE NARRATIVE 
 THAT REFLECTS THE LIVES OF THOUSANDS OF OTHER AMERI- 
 CAN CITIZENS. ITS ONLY MERIT IS^ THAT IT IS 
 INTENDED TO BE CORRECT ; BUT "a LITTLE NONSENSE 
 
 now and then is relished by the wisest 
 
 men." yours, without egotism, 
 
 The Author. 
 
ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOYHOOD DAYS. 
 
 I WAS born on the third day of March, 1832, in the city 
 of Auburn, N. Y., where my parents were then Hving. I am 
 satisfied that I was one of the party present on the occasion, 
 but I cannot recall any circumstance connected with the 
 event. I have a letter written by my mother to her sister in 
 Connecticut corroborating the above. The first event im- 
 pressed upon my memory was going to church with my 
 mother and an aunt, dressed in a suit of scarlet in which 
 was comprised the gorgeous embodiment of my first pants. 
 The next ray of memory reaches back to December, 1835, 
 when I went to the funeral of my mother with my father in 
 a covered sleigh, through a very deep snow. This was the 
 first tim.e I remember seeing my father. 
 
 Of events previous to the time I first went to school, at 
 the age of four years, only a few faint recollections remain. 
 But the good old Mrs. Crocker, who kept a private nursery 
 school in her own house, is well remembered. When any 
 of the children got sick she put them to bed. I remember 
 havin!2r the earache at one time while there. Mrs. Crocker 
 
5 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 soothed it and put me to bed. How the children loved this 
 kind old lady! 
 
 My mother's sister kept house for my father after my 
 mother's death, and her daughter lived with the family, 
 and was married at my father's house. This was the first 
 marriage I had ever witnessed, and I thought the bride the 
 most beautiful being that I had ever seen. The ceremony, 
 to me, was very impressive, and thereafter I always held 
 my cousin, the bride, in the greatest esteem. She after- 
 wards became a star actress of beauty and talent, and played 
 to crowded houses in all the large cities of the United States. 
 Who says that impressions of childhood are not sometimes 
 prophetic ? 
 
 My aunt soon went to live with her daughter, and my 
 father's half-sister kept house for us. I had a brother two 
 and a half years younger than myself and only a year old 
 when my mother died of pneumonia — in those days called 
 quick consumption. JMy half-aunt was a veritable mother 
 to us, and believed in the old maxim, ''Spare the rod and 
 spoil the child." Though kind, many of our shortcomings 
 were promptly attended to at the end of a switch, and I 
 frequently went through a lively gymnastic exercise, accom- 
 panied with yells, tears, promises, and burning sensations 
 in the rear that subsided in due time, and I stood corrected 
 until the next act in the drama came on. 
 
 Every year, during the summer or fall, our family took 
 a trip of about seventy miles southeast of Auburn to Che- 
 nango County to visit Ezekiel Porter, the father and grand- 
 father, an old Revolutionary soldier who lived on a farm. 
 We always made the trip with a pair of horses and carriage, 
 with the trunks strapped on behind, stage fashion. It took 
 two days to make the journey, stopping for the night either 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 3 
 
 at Homer or Cortland on the way to and from our destina- 
 tion. Those villages as they looked then are as fresh in my 
 mind to-day as they were when I saw them sixty years ago. 
 
 Upon the arrival of the guests at the old homestead a 
 flock of sheep was gathered into a pen at the barn and a fine 
 fat one killed. Of course a town boy was bound to be a 
 nuisance while his uncle was catching a sheep, so I was 
 kept in the house while this was going on, but my uncle had 
 brought the sheep to the back of the house, under a tree, 
 and from a window I watched the proceeding of cutting its 
 throat with the greatest curiosity and delight. Somehow 
 I got out and was soon covered with blood, to the supreme 
 disgust of my aunt, but it was a great treat for me. 
 
 Soon after this my father married his second wife, and 
 my stepmother treated us very kindly, but she employed 
 an old woman as nurse, who proved to be an old hag. My 
 father was away from home most of the time, and during 
 his absence a great deal of whisky was drunk at the house, 
 and I was the boy that carried the jug to and fro from the 
 grocery. It was a little brown jug that held about two 
 quarts. I remember very well how it looked and how 
 ashamed I was to be seen carrying it back and forth. 
 One morning the jug was started rather early, with myself 
 as a close companion to see it safely to and fro. To my 
 disgust and surprise, the same afternoon it was started again, 
 and very reluctantly I went with it. On the way I passed 
 a pump in front of a hotel, and a bright idea struck me. 
 I would fill up that jug at the pump and save time, as I 
 had some very important engagement with some boys from 
 whom I had been called to escort the jug. With a con- 
 scious feeling of justification and a recklessness beyond my 
 years, a disobedience of orders occurred. Water took the 
 
4 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 place of whisky, and the jug and I returned home, a Httle 
 uncertain what the outcome would be. Parting company 
 with the jug at the kitchen table I rushed off to find the 
 boys. I delayed my return home to a late hour, crawled 
 over the backyard fence, went in at the back door, got into 
 the pantry, stuffed my pockets full of dry bread, and, un- 
 observed, crawled upstairs, covered myself up in bed, 
 where I took a quiet repast and soon after fell asleep amidst 
 a bedful of crumbs. 
 
 The next morning I hesitated about getting up, and con- 
 ceived the idea of playing sick, but my empty stomach would 
 not allow it. The aforesaid old hag in a piping voice com- 
 manded me to come to breakfast at once. As she closed the 
 door I caught the appetizing odors from the breakfast table. 
 My place was soon filled at the table and my meal finished 
 without a word on my part. I tried to get out of the house 
 unobserved, hoping the little discrepancy of the day before 
 would blow over without a row. But, alas ! my joyous 
 hopes were crushed. The old hag clutched me by the collar 
 and thumped me down into a wood-bottomed chair. With 
 a rasping squeal I was told that I must sit there until she 
 was ready to attend to me. Crying in childhood was not 
 my habit, but the evenness of my mind was very much dis- 
 turbed. The next act was the production of a rope from a 
 nearby cupboard, when she proceeded to tie my arms and 
 lead me out to the woodshed and fasten me to a post. A 
 well-seasoned switch was brought forth and used with great 
 vigor over my shoulders and legs, while I writhed in agony. 
 But the drubbing was short, for she got out of wind on 
 account of the debauch of the day before and had to sit 
 down. Then she told me she had intended to make the blood 
 run down my legs before she stopped and would surely do 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS , 5 
 
 it the next time I cut such a caper as the one of the day 
 before. Of course I had nothing to say, but when my father, 
 came home he was fully informed of all the particulars. 
 Soon after my stepmother was taken sick and died in less 
 than a year after my father married her. Again my father's 
 half-sister took charge of the household affairs, and I had 
 a good mother again. Whooping cough, measles, chicken 
 pox, vaccination, and children's diseases were gone through 
 with safety. 
 
 At school I learned very rapidly, and soon acquired a 
 taste for reading books of travel, history, and lives of dis- 
 tinguished men. What I read I remembered well. I was 
 not a dull boy, but rather mischievous ; loved fun and play, 
 and was what might be called an average bright boy. When 
 I was six to seven years of age several of the schoolboys 
 would go three or four miles out of town to see the cars 
 come in at full speed (from fifteen to twenty miles an hour). 
 At that time there was a railroad between Auburn and 
 Syracuse. It was the farthest west of any railroad in opera- 
 tion at that time — 1838. The road was laid with wooden 
 rails with wrought-iron straps spiked on top. These bars 
 of iron would often curl up and punch a hole in the bottom 
 of the cars, and many accidents occurred from this cause. 
 There were three locomotives on the road, named, respec- 
 tively, the Cayuga, the Auburn, and the Syracuse. This 
 road is now a branch of the main line of the New York 
 Central, upon which I rode 148 miles on the Empire State 
 Express in 160 minutes, and the train ran so smoothly that 
 a glass of water on the window sill would not slop over. 
 I wonder how it will be in 1939? 
 
 Traits of character began to show during these years of 
 boyhood, and many an escapade and boyish prank took place, 
 
6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 a few oi which I now recall. In 1838 the boys of the 
 immediate vicinity, from seven to twelve years of age, 
 formed a company of about twenty lads and began to drill 
 as soldiers under the tutelage of a boy thirteen or fourteen 
 years of age, by the name of Charles H. Stewart, who, dur- 
 ing the Civil War, became colonel of a volunteer regiment 
 raised at Auburn, N. Y. This lad seemed to be a natural 
 born commander, and under his training we became so pro- 
 ficient in drill that we attracted much attention from the 
 citizens of the town. The uniform consisted of red paper 
 caps. We were armed with wooden toy guns, and a very 
 nice flag of stars and stripes was furnished by the fond 
 mothers of the embryo soldiers. I was exceedingly proud 
 when I was chosen to act as color bearer. Our captain, like 
 the Duke of York with ten thousand men, marched up the 
 street and then marched down again. Our martial music 
 emanated from a large toy drum and two boys with big 
 whistles. The amount of noise created by that company of 
 small boys was astonishing. I remember an Irish lad of 
 ten summers who wanted to join the company, but he was 
 objected to on account of his not being a full-blooded 
 !A.merican ; but the captain finally concluded to let him join 
 if he would always march at the rear and act as a servant 
 of the captain. Our motto was, "Put none but Americans 
 on guard." 
 
 In the year 1840 Harrison and Tyler were nominated by 
 the Whigs, and the "hard-cider" campaign followed. They 
 built an immense log cabin in the center of the town, nailed 
 coon skins on the gable end, rolled in barrels of hard cider, 
 and started the campaign with a rush. Martin Van Buren 
 was the Democratic candidate for President, and during the 
 fall made a visit to Auburn, He was President at the time. 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 7 
 
 His visit was during a Democratic convention, and I got a 
 good look at him as he passed in a carriage, with hat off, 
 bowing to the people along the way. He was the first Presi- 
 dent of the United States that I had ever seen, and of course 
 it made a strong impression upon my mind. I supposed I 
 had seen one of the greatest men on earth. Boylike, during 
 a Democratic convention I was an enthusiastic Democrat, 
 and during a Whig convention I was a first-class Whig, 
 and with the rest of the boys sang Whig songs with great 
 gusto. 
 
 Soon after Van Buren's visit the Whigs had a great con- 
 vention, held a barbecue, roasted an ox whole, and baked 
 the largest johnnycake that had ever been seen. It was a foot 
 thick and eight by sixteen feet in width and length. It was 
 on a platform, placed where all could see it as they passed. 
 As soon as the procession was over tables were set in the 
 middle of the street, in front of the log cabin, and a stuffed 
 coon was raised on the end of a pole about thirty feet above 
 the huge johnnycake. Preparations were made to feed 
 everybody. The platform at the end of the log cabin was 
 large enough to set a table for speakers, singers, and bands- 
 men ; also three or four barrels of hard cider. Hard cider 
 in tin dippers was freely given away to anyone who wanted 
 it, from a back window of the log cabin. One of my chums 
 and myself kept together, and often visited the hard-cider 
 window in the rear. We got places at the table also, and 
 filled up on roast beef and johnnycake, well washed down 
 with hard cider. 
 
 Speaking, singing, and band playing were kept up for 
 hours, but we two boys continued our visits to the back 
 window for hard cider until we were happy as lords, and, 
 picking up some stumps of cigars, got a light and com- 
 
8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 menced smoking. Arm in arm, with hats tilted to one side, 
 we started up the street for home, yelling for "Tippecanoe 
 and Tyler, too." After a while there came a pause in the 
 hilarity. Both of us were taken sick, vomiting roast beef, 
 johnnycake, and cider in great profusion. We sat down on 
 the curbstone for a while and felt a little better, but still 
 very much intoxicated. However, we lit our cigars again, 
 and, reeling our way along, started for home. Just then 
 we were met by a woman, who grabbed me by the collar 
 and violently shook me. The woman (my aunt) led me rap- 
 idly home, my steps quickened every now and then by a 
 good switching about my legs, causing me to forget all 
 about "Tippecanoe and Tyler, too." She took me home 
 and tied me in a chair, but I was too drunk to rebel or 
 remember anything until the next day, when I found myself 
 sick in bed. 
 
 A few days afterward my father came home, and at the 
 dinner table my aunt related the v/hole proceeding to him, 
 winding up by saying, "The idea of a boy whose father was a 
 good Democrat following off a dirty Whig procession, whose 
 members gave a boy of his size nasty old hard cider until 
 he was drunk as a fool. Even after I had got him home 
 he went to singing 'Tippecanoe and Tyler, too.' Another 
 Whig convention would make a perfect rowdy of him." 
 After the meal was over my father took me out into the 
 woodshed, and before he got through with me I was more 
 than anxious to promise never to do so again. 
 
 This escapade and its dire results will always help me 
 to remember the Harrison and Tyler campaign of 1840, 
 which was doubtless the most exciting campaign that ever 
 occurred. "Two dollars a day and roast beef !" was the cry 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS .9 
 
 of the Whigs, but, like most political promises made during 
 the excitement of a campaign, they did not materialize. 
 
 About this time my father sold out his business of manu- 
 facturing the first goose-neck hoes made in the United States 
 to a hardware merchant of Auburn, N. Y., who soon after 
 failed, and my father was left a poor man, as he could 
 not collect a dollar from his bankrupt debtor. This dis- 
 couraged him so much that he decided to leave Auburn. 
 He soon after married a widow who lived in the town of 
 Solon (afterward divided and the eastern part named 
 Taylor), Cortland County, N. Y., and owned a farm about 
 fourteen miles east of Cortland village, the county seat. 
 
 Up to this time — 1841 — I had been kept in school and 
 had made good progress in reading, writing, spelling, geog- 
 raphy, and mental arithmetic, and had commenced to learn 
 grammar. In those days children were not pushed and 
 rushed with more lessons to learn than they had time to 
 learn them in. Hours of study in school were from 9 to 
 12 A. M. and from i to 4 p. m. The remainder of the time 
 was devoted to play and recreation, and they went to school 
 in the morning fresh and ready to study with vigor. They 
 learned better, and retained longer, that which they learned, 
 than children do at the present day, and were physically, 
 if not mentally, better off than the overworked children 
 under the modern school system. 
 
 When we moved from Auburn to the farm in Solon it 
 seemed like a new world, and I commenced a new existence. 
 My pet dog. Trip, went with me and was a constant com- 
 panion. I had taught the dog to be driven with reins and 
 whip until he was well broken. The next morning after 
 the arrival at the new home the dog was hitched up, and he 
 and I started on a voyage of discovery. We trotted along 
 
10 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 for a couple of miles, when, reaching the top of a hill, we 
 discovered a village. We rested a while, took a good look 
 at it, and then started back home to announce the discovery. 
 On the way back a crow flew across the road, rather low, 
 and the dog saw him. He had never seen a crow before 
 and off he started after him, dragging me through a patch 
 of thistles and briars. He then broke away from me and 
 ran, barking, over the fields after the crow. I followed 
 until we reached a piece of woods, where the dog disap- 
 peared, and I went back to the road. Just then a man came 
 along in a buggy, laughing very heartily, as he had seen the 
 whole performance. He stopped and called to me and asked 
 what the trouble was. I told him about it, and the man 
 laughed more than ever. Feeling somewhat indignant at 
 being laughed at, I started home after calling the dog. In 
 a short time the dog came back with the reins broken, but 
 I fixed them up and soon arrived home. I related my dis- 
 covery to an admiring audience, but when I told about the 
 dog and crow they all laughed as much as the man did that 
 I had met. It was no laughing matter with me, as my 
 clothes were badly torn, with face and hands scratched, but 
 I soon got over it. 
 
 The same afternoon my new stepmother's son, five years 
 older than myself, coaxed me to go fishing with him for 
 trout and carry the fish while he did the fishing. Of course 
 nothing could please me better than going fishing, so away 
 we went to the creek. We soon had fifteen or twenty very 
 nice trout, my new stepbrother teaching me how to string 
 them on a forked stick. In crossing over the stream on a 
 slippery log, off I went into about two and a half feet of 
 water and got a good ducking. I was badly scared, but 
 held on to the fish, My companion helped me out and laid 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS ii 
 
 me on an old log in the sun to dry, while he went down the 
 creek to catch some more fish. We went home with a good 
 mess of fish and reached there before night. Thus passed 
 my first day of country Hfe at my new home, and I went 
 to bed pretty well tired out with my day's adventures. 
 
 I was nine years of age, rather small, but had great will 
 power, fair health, was rather independent, loved fun and 
 ready for a fight if imposed on, was quick in movement, 
 and could outrun or out jump any boy of my size. Trifles 
 never bothered me. I was genial with my companions, and 
 got along without much trouble. I would rather be with 
 boys older than myself, rather than with those who were 
 younger. This trait of character lasted until I was thirty- 
 five or forty years old, when it changed, and ever since I 
 have better enjoyed tlie companionship of people younger 
 than myself. My brother, two years and nine months youn- 
 ger, I could never agree with. We were constantly quarrel- 
 ing, and many a well-deserved thrashing did I get for thrash- 
 ing him. We were no more alike in disposition or looks than 
 a cat and dog, and agreed just about as well. Consequently 
 we did not court each other's society, and were never 
 together if we could possibly avoid it. 
 
 Our family consisted of my father, my stepmother, her 
 two sons, one five years older and the other ten years older ; 
 one daughter, seven or eight years older than I ; my brother 
 and myself. For some reason I was a favorite with my 
 stepmother and her children, and my brother was favored 
 by my father. My stepsister always declared that I was 
 the most mischievous boy she ever saw. She often told of 
 her spinning wool in one of the rooms upstairs at one time 
 when, by some means, I had discovered a small knothole 
 in the ceiling and saw my chance. I made an elder-stalk 
 
12 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 squirt gun, that held about one-half pint of water, filled it, 
 and very quietly crawled up into the garret over the place 
 where she was spinning, inserted the squirt-gun into the 
 knothole, and fired a little water down. She looked up to 
 see where it came from, and I let her have the remainder full 
 in the face. While she was recovering from the shock I 
 scrambled down and was out of the house before she could 
 catch me, and doubtless my legs saved me from her wTath on 
 that occasion. However, I was forgiven if I would promise 
 to not do it again. 
 
 The summer passed rapidly, working, fishing, hunting, 
 picking berries, and riding horseback — a new experience 
 for me. The country had a great charm for me, and never 
 for a moment did I wish to return to city life. The next 
 winter was passed at school. My long vacation seemed to 
 brighten my ideas, and doubtless caused me to learn much 
 faster. One difficulty caused much trouble. My brother 
 and I were continually quarreling. My father said he would 
 have to separate us. Toward spring he took me with him 
 on a visit to Smithville, N. Y., where his two half-sisters 
 and stepmother lived, and a half-brother on an adjoining 
 farm. The outcome of that visit was that his two half- 
 sisters (old maids) decided to take me to bring up. To me 
 the idea was rather pleasing, and in the course of a few 
 weeks I was fully established in my new home. As my 
 aunts had no dog, and I was anxious to have one, my father 
 brought me one of the black and tan species, about three 
 months old. This proved to be a fine hunter for wood- 
 chucks, squirrels and partridges. Trip was my constant 
 companion and was a source of much enjoyment to me, 
 deprived as I was of the company of other playmates. 
 
 My uncle worked the farm, and I was his helper in every- 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 13 
 
 thing that I could do. I was kept pretty busy during the 
 summer, and went to school in the winter for three or four 
 months. Our house was situated some distance from the 
 main-traveled road, and w^e seldom saw anyone except they 
 came to see us. It was a dull place for a lively, wide- 
 awake boy, but I managed to enjoy myself. I had acquired a 
 great taste for reading and read all the books and newspap- 
 ers that I could get hold of. My uncle also was a great 
 reader and a well-informed man. He was always ready to 
 enlighten me upon any subject that interested me. He was a 
 living encyclopedia to me, and I received a great deal of use- 
 ful information from him that was of much benefit to me. 
 Being a kind and indulgent man, I soon learned to love him. 
 He doubtless instilled into my character many traits that in- 
 fluenced my later life. He is still living (May, 1899), and is 
 ninety-one years of age. 
 
 One of my aunts was an intolerable scold, and a large 
 share of her vituperative language was addressed to me. 
 Being of a restless, sensitive nature, the repeated scoldings 
 I got for my boyish pranks began to make me uneasy and 
 discontented. My aunt was very good when she was good, 
 but her tongue lashings more than counterbalanced her 
 otherwise good behavior. 
 
 When I was about thirteen or fourteen years old I became 
 very much in love with one of our neighbor's daughters, 
 who was about my own age. She had red hair, was very 
 much freckled, but had a bright countenance and a lively 
 and winning way that caught me entirely. My youthful 
 passion was reciprocated, but I had a rival about my own 
 age, but more than half a head taller. At our school there 
 was a good deal of rivalry as to who was the best speller. 
 We had spelling schools every week, and, of course, the boys 
 
14 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 escorted the girls home on such occasions. One'evenmg I 
 asked permission from my girl to escort her home. She 
 readily agreed, and we started off. The snow was about 
 a foot deep, but the sleighing was good and the path well 
 broken. My rival was very wroth that I had got ahead of 
 him, and, following behind, kept tripping me up with his 
 foot, with the intention of getting me down and capturing 
 the girl. I got mad after awhile and asked her to wait 
 while I thrashed him. She consented, so I turned on him, 
 and we were soon down in the snow pounding each other 
 in fine style. The presence of my girl seemed to give me 
 strength, and he came off second-best. We left him with 
 the blood streaming down his face from his battered nose, 
 and I soon had my girl at her home. The next day my rival 
 declared he would whip me, and tried to tell the rest of the 
 boys how it all happened. At noon we had it again, and 
 quite a severe fight occurred, but before it was ended the 
 teacher interfered and stopped it. We never fought again, 
 and became very good friends. Some years afterward my 
 rival married the girl, and her first boy was named after me. 
 I have visited the family many times, and we are still the 
 best of friends. Thus ended my first love affair. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 The winter after I was fifteen years old I made up my 
 mind to push out into the world for myself, and began to 
 concoct schemes to carry out my purpose. About this time 
 my father came down to visit me, as was his custom about 
 twice a year, and I informed him quietly of my intention. 
 He said but little at the time, but about a week afterward 
 he sent my stepbrother to take me home. My aunts were 
 very much astonished and laid all the blame upon my father, 
 not knowing that I had anything to do with it. I said 
 nothing, but most cheerfully got ready to leave at once. 
 
 This event changed the whole course of my existence. 
 The youngest son of my stepmother, five years my senior, 
 was a very peculiar character. Though naturally a genius, 
 he was rough, uncouth, and uneducated, with a strong pro- 
 pensity to drink. He was fond of hunting, fishing, and trap- 
 ping, and had a supreme dislike for work. Still, he was free- 
 hearted, and would go out of his way at any time to accom- 
 modate anyone that he liked. He consequently had many 
 friends, but was not the sort of character for a boy of 
 fifteen to be associated with as a boon companion. Yet I 
 was not easily led into that which I thought was not right. 
 Therefore I was not seriously contaminated by my associa- 
 
 15 
 
i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 tion with him. The older brother was also a peculiar char- 
 acter. He was a strictly temperate man, very much set in 
 his ways, ambitious, very anxious to make money, and a 
 hard worker. He was honest, but too grasping to accumu- 
 late much, as he had no speculative ability. The step- 
 brothers never agreed, but the older one controlled the 
 younger to a considerable extent. 
 
 My stepmother's daughter was married and lived a few 
 miles away. She was a woman of the sweetest disposition 
 and beloved by all who knew her. With my brother I had 
 nothing to do, as we seemed not to have a single thought 
 in common. All the family were friendly to me, except my 
 own brother. My father still managed the country hotel, as 
 my stepmother had before she married him, and I was 
 brought into contact with characters of great variety, and 
 I picked up much miscellaneous information. 
 
 An old-fashioned country inn fifty years ago was unlike 
 anything to be found in these days of railroads, telegraphs, 
 telephones, and automobiles. The country tavern was head- 
 quarters for the neighborhood gossip, the news of the day, 
 unique characters, old topers, wayward young men, politi- 
 cians, preachers, strangers, horse thieves, pedlers, etc. Elec- 
 tions, shooting matches, horse races, and militia gatherings 
 for general training were also held in the town. Whisky 
 was sold at three cents per glass. Large fireplaces, where 
 heavy logs were burned without stint day and night, fur- 
 nished warmth. 
 
 The farm consisted of one hundred acres or more, and 
 in those days cattle and sheep were driven to distant mar- 
 kets. During the summer droves were kept over night on 
 the farm. The first money I ever earned for myself was by 
 helping to drive cattle. I received twenty-five cents a day, 
 
ASPIRATIONS 17 
 
 with board, for five clays. The custom in those days was to 
 keep the drover, on his return, free of charge at the place 
 where he had stopped with the drove. I arrived home all 
 right, very proud of earning my first dollar. Being of a 
 nervous temperament, the humdrum life on the farm did 
 not accord with my desire to see more of the world. Always 
 of an inquiring mind, blessed with a good memory and a 
 good constitution, full of life, wide-awake and fond of fun, 
 I managed to pass the summer enjoying myself to the extent 
 a boy of my age could who had his own head and his own 
 way. 
 
 In early fall "apple cuts" were in vogue among the farm- 
 ing community, ending with a dance which seldom wound 
 up before daylight. ^'Johnny," a nickname that my step- 
 brother had given me, had an invitation to attend one of 
 these parties ; so I got on my best clothes and was all ready 
 to start out when my father interposed a veto, declaring 
 that I was too young to be out all night to a dance. This 
 put a damper on my aspirations, and, nothwithstanding the 
 pleadings of my stepmother to let me go, the old gentleman 
 was obdurate. So "Johnny" sat down seemingly contented, 
 and in due course of time went to bed. As soon as my 
 father had retired I quietly crawled down the stairs in my 
 stocking feet, went to the barn, got a bridle and saddle, then 
 went to the pasture and caught a horse, and at ten o'clock 
 was at the "apple cut," as happy as a king. That night was 
 my first attempt at dancing, but before daylight I was safely 
 at home and in bed. Just fifteen minutes after I had 
 crawled into bed my father called me to get up, and I 
 promptly came down, rubbing my eyes, as a dutiful son 
 naturally would. For some reason my father after that 
 never objected to my going to a dance. 
 
iB ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 During the winter of 1847 I attended school and at its 
 close in March planned to run away with another lad of the 
 same age as myself to work for six months on a farm and 
 return in time for school in the fall. One bright morning 
 we were off, with but two dollars and a half apiece in our 
 pockets. After traveling for several days we reached Ithaca 
 and went down the east side of Cayuga Lake, stopping at 
 almost every house inquiring for work until we found our- 
 selves at the farm of an uncle of my traveling companion, 
 where we stayed for several days. Then ''Johnny" came 
 marching home alone, my companion remaining with his 
 relatives. 
 
 A short time after my return my father took me to Syra- 
 cuse and got me a place as clerk in the wholesale and retail 
 grocery store of John M. Jaycox & Co., to work for my 
 board and clothes for the first year. Two months of hard 
 work there nearly disabled me, and Mr. Jaycox advised me 
 to return to school for another year. This did not suit me in 
 the least, and I concluded to make a visit to Auburn, N. Y., 
 my birthplace, before I went home, but soon found that I 
 needed more money, and began to look about for a job. At 
 Geddes, a short distance from Syracuse, I found the superin- 
 tendent of the Oswego & Syracuse Railroad, then being built, 
 and asked him for a job. The man laughed, and asked me 
 what I could do. I told him I thought that I could drive a 
 team on the dumping-ground. ''Why, my boy," said the man, 
 "you are too small." "Oh, no, I am not," I said. "Just try 
 me." He finally offered me ten dollars a month and board, 
 on trial. I was given a large, fine team of horses — so large, 
 indeed, that I had to get up into the manger to put the col- 
 lars on them. At the end of the month I received ten dol- 
 lars and a pass to Auburn on a freight train. On my arrival 
 
ASPIRATIONS ' 19 
 
 there I found a large number of my old playmates and 
 schoolmates, with whom I had a very pleasant visit. 
 
 This was the summer of 1848, and the news of the dis- 
 covery of gold in California had just reached us. Ships 
 were being fitted out in New York to go around the Horn, 
 companies were being formed, and great excitement pre- 
 vailed. I caught the fever, and got up a scheme with George 
 Simpson, a new acquaintance I had made, to raise money 
 enough to get to New York City, where we could sell news- 
 papers on the streets until we had a chance to board one of 
 the ships that was about to sail as stowaways, and perhaps 
 earn passage to San Francisco by working our way. The 
 plan was to leave x'Vuburn secretly some night and walk to 
 Weedsport, eight miles from Auburn, where we would reach 
 the Erie Canal ; then to work our passage to Albany, N. Y., 
 on a canal boat, and thence to New York. The night was 
 set and everything was ready, but unluckily George Simp- 
 son's father caught him coming down the stairs with his 
 little bundle and made him confess the whole thing. 
 
 The plan fell through, therefore, and in a few days I 
 started for home on foot, across country, fifty miles away. 
 I arrived there in good shape and told my story just as it 
 occurred. Though a wild boy, and ready for almost any 
 kind of adventure, I was always truthful, and could be 
 trusted under any and all circumstances. This virtue I had 
 acquired in a large degree through the wholesome training 
 of my aunts, and it lasted throughout my life. 
 
 In the spring of 1849 I made a visit to my aunts in Smith- 
 ville, N. Y., and engaged to work for six months on their 
 farm for nine dollars a month. This service I faithfully per- 
 formed, received my pay, and from one of the neighbors 
 bought a colt, six months old, for twenty-six dollars. Proud 
 
20 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 of my possessions, with my rifle on my shoulder, and lead- 
 ing the colt, I started for home, twenty miles away. My 
 youngest stepbrother had a colt about the age of mine, and 
 we had lively arguments as to who had the best colt. 
 
 Early in the following spring a man came into the town 
 who had just returned from California, and showed some 
 gold nuggets that he said he had mined himself. I looked 
 at them with a great deal of interest, and resolved at once 
 to go to California and dig gold for myself, 
 
 I hired out to one of the farmers in the neighborhood for 
 four months, at twelve dollars a month. I worked my time 
 out, and decided to go on the Erie Canal for the rest of the 
 season. But my father sternly opposed this. Apparently 
 I yielded to my father's v/ill, but slyly induced my step- 
 mother to get my clothes ready. These I covered up in a 
 wagon, and my stepbrother took me about fifteen miles on 
 my way, on the pretense that we were going to visit my step- 
 mother's daughter. 
 
 The next morning at sunrise I was well on my way to 
 Syracuse, v/here I expected to get a chance to drive a team 
 on the canal. I arrived there after a hard tramp, put up at 
 a hotel, and, after breakfast, started out to find work; but 
 it was not so easy as I had thought. At noon, after I had 
 got something to eat, I wended my way to Lodi Locks, just 
 east of Syracuse, and made the acquaintance of the lock- 
 tender, who told me how to proceed to get a job. Every 
 boat that passed through the lock I was to inquire for work. 
 A couple of days passed, my money was gone excepting 
 three cents, and no work in sight. About five p. m. I went 
 over to the grocery at the lock and bought a three-cent cigar, 
 lit it, and went over to the lock-tender's house, leaned back 
 in his chair and smoked as contentedly as though I was a 
 
ASPIRATIONS ^ 21 
 
 person of wealth. The lock-tender gazed at me for a mo- 
 ment with a smile on his face, and said : "Say, young fellow, 
 you say you have no money, yet you act as though you owned 
 the whole canal. You'll do." Before the cigar was finished 
 I had struck a job and was on a boat bound for Buffalo. 
 
 When the boat reached Rochester the course was changed, 
 and she went up the Genesee canal to Morristown, to the 
 Shaker colony, for a load of grain. On the return of the 
 boat to Rochester I left my job and spent a night in a dry- 
 goods box on the bank of the canal by the side of a ware- 
 house. In the morning I concluded I would rather drive 
 stage than work longer on the canal, and I made inquiries 
 for a stage office. A policeman gave me directions, and I 
 was soon engaged in conversation with the stage line super- 
 intendent. I was small for my age, and, the counter being 
 a high one, my eyes were but little above the edge of it. 
 "Well, young man, what can I do for you ?" "Do you want 
 a driver?" I asked. The superintendent looked at me and 
 began to laugh. "Do you want to engage as a driver?" 
 "Yes, sir," I said. 
 
 The man leaned over the counter, laughing, and, looking 
 at my legs, said : "Your legs are too short ; besides, I hardly 
 think you could hold back a stage full of passengers coming 
 down a steep hill. Do you think you could?" "Try me." 
 "Well, I admire your pluck, but I don't think you will do ; 
 besides, we have no vacancy just now." After asking if he 
 could direct me to any other line, and receiving a negative 
 answer, I went back to the canal and started on the tow- 
 path towards home. I had not gone far before I had an- 
 other job with a man and his wife and son, with whom I 
 stayed as long as I was on the canal. I went to Albany, 
 also down the Chenango canal to Hamilton. When we 
 
22 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 were at Oriskany Falls, the large feeder of the Erie, as well 
 as of the Chenango, was damaged by a heavy rain-storm, 
 which carried the dam away, and a wall of water ten feet 
 high came sweeping down and carried everything before it. 
 It destroyed an immense amount of property and washed the 
 canal entirely away in many places, obliging our boat to lay 
 in the basin at Oriskany Falls for two weeks. 
 
 When we arrived at Utica, where we lay for a day or 
 two and unloaded, I paid out almost my last cent for a stock 
 of winter clothing. The suit I selected was rather unique, 
 indeed, somewhat gaudy, but I consulted my own taste. A 
 snuff-colored shaker cutaway coat with velvet collar, a black 
 velvet vest with a large strawberry vine and leaves in colors, 
 and a pair of black doeskin pants made up the suit. When 
 we arrived at Syracuse I left the boat, though the man and 
 his wife urged me very hard to go home and winter with 
 them, where I could go to school and it would cost me noth- 
 ing. But I was too independent, and started for home with 
 my load of clothes on my back in a sack. I stayed overnight 
 a few miles out of town, and walked home the next day, a 
 distance of forty miles. I arrived home just at dusk. My 
 father, brother and two stepbrothers were all at home, and, 
 with the exception of my father, gave me a warm greeting. 
 I expected at least a good scolding from my father for run- 
 ning away. He turned to me and asked: "What have you 
 got there in that bundle, my boy ?" ''Clothes, sir." "Let me 
 see them." I spread them out on the table. My father 
 looked them all over very carefully, and said : "How much 
 money have you ?" After fishing about in my jacket pockets 
 I pulled out a ten-cent piece. "Is that all ?" he added. "Yes, 
 sir," said I. 
 
 The old gentleman turned pn hi3 heel and walked off into 
 
ASPIRATIONS 23 
 
 another room, and that was all the censure I got. School 
 commenced in a few days, and I cut quite a swell among 
 the young maidens of the school in my new clothes, and 
 was the envy of all the other boys, who wore homespun 
 goods. Having seen more of the world than they, I was, 
 in their estimation, entitled to a front seat. My company 
 was more or less sought by the young ladies of the school 
 for these reasons, and, being of a good disposition and not 
 overbearing, I had hardly an enemy in the whole school. 
 Besides, I was ahead of nearly all of them in our studies. 
 This ended my education in the district school. 
 
 During the winter I commenced writing a novel, and after 
 completing a few chapters the knowledge of what I was 
 doing reached the ears of a well-educated gentleman of 
 wealth. He asked me to bring what I had written and let 
 him see it. After some hesitation I did so, and the good man 
 was so well pleased with it that he encouraged me to keep 
 on, giving me much good advice and assistance. I finished 
 the manuscript, which I have kept as a relic of youth, and 
 it has proved a source of amusement to me in my old age. 
 It is just fifty years ago from this date of writing that I was 
 engaged in this literary effort. Let us look back at those 
 good old days and note the improvements made since that 
 time. Railroads, telegraphs and steamships were taking the 
 place of old methods of communication and transportation, 
 but the stage coach still held its own in most parts of the 
 country. The American Union was represented by thirty- 
 one States, with but little improvement west of the Missis- 
 sippi. About that time California was attracting the atten- 
 tion of the world by its rich gold mines, and I had the gold 
 fever badly and made up my mind to see that country, I 
 bent all my energies to its accomplishment, but the problem 
 
■-I' 
 
 24 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 was, how was I to get there? I made up my mind to save 
 every dollar that I could earn vmtil I had enough to carry 
 me to this golden El Dorado. It was slow work to save 
 enough by working on a farm during the summer season at 
 nine to twelve dollars a month, but I was determined to ac- 
 complish the task and never wavered for a moment. At 
 work in the summer and at school in the winter, I strug- 
 gled on. 
 
 This tenacity of purpose in a boy of sixteen showed plain- 
 ly the capacity of the coming man. Though fond of society, 
 fun and pleasure, and sports, with a sort of don't-care dispo- 
 sition, I still kept my eye out for my former intention. Many 
 little episodes characteristic of a boy at this time of life could 
 be related here, but, like most boys, I enjoyed the society of 
 the girls and the varied social amusements of young people. 
 
 For the next three years nothing of great importance 
 transpired to mar my life, and I probably enjoyed myself as 
 well or better than most boys of my age. I had my own way 
 and did mostly as I pleased, my father not trying to control 
 my actions to any extent, or take the money that I had 
 earned. He was very much opposed to my going to Califor- 
 nia, but finally concluded that if I was determined to go it 
 was useless to oppose me. My father gave me good advice, 
 but was unable to help me in a financial way. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SEEKING A FORTUNE. 
 
 The young man with whom I worked on the farm was 
 two or three years older than myself. I got him into the 
 notion of going with me. His name was John Clement. He 
 had no education, in fact, could not write his own name, but 
 was naturally bright, of a strong build and in the best of 
 health. Our engagements on the farm expired October i, 
 1852, and we made up our minds to take the steamer from 
 New York, via the Isthmus, for San Francisco, October 
 20th, of that year. At that time it was a great undertaking. 
 We young Americans, though verdant country lads, had 
 never seen the ocean or knew anything about traveling, but 
 we faltered not, and on the appointed day took passage on 
 the stage for Binghamton, N. Y., amid tearful companions, 
 who tried to dissuade us from our venture. But we were 
 not made of the kind of stuff to back out, although some 
 told us that we would never return again. 
 
 We were whirled away with many a "God bless you!" 
 Though we had barely enough money to pay for tickets in 
 the steerage through to San Francisco, we left with high 
 hopes for the future. Arriving at Binghamton before sun- 
 down the same day, we took the night train on the Erie 
 Railroad for New York, arriving on the morning of October 
 19, 1852. The day was spent in securing tickets and seeing 
 r 25 
 
2^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the sights about the city. Stopping at French's Hotel, we 
 found a party of four — Joe Gibbs, who had been to CaHfor- 
 nia and now on his return; his brother, Ed Gibbs, and a 
 cousin, John Gibbs, who was going to take a berth on one 
 of the Pacific Coast steamers as third mate. The fourth 
 was Asa Chase, a friend of the Gibbs boys, all from Fall 
 River, Mass. 
 
 We joined the four, making a party of six. We pledged 
 ourselves to stick by one another through thick and thin. 
 We elected Joe Gibbs as manager of the party, he being the 
 oldest man — thirty-five years of age — and had had experi- 
 ence on a former trip. Gibbs was a good manager, well 
 educated, shrewd and honorable. This was a fortunate ar- 
 rangement for us boys. Joe purchased the tickets and looked 
 after his charge with seeming pleasure. He was full of 
 jokes and had an endless stock of stories which kept the 
 party always in good humor. None of the boys, as he called 
 them, was over twenty-three years of age except John Gibbs, 
 who was about thirty, and had been a sailor ever since he 
 was seventeen. 
 
 At noon, on the 20th day of October, 1852, we sailed 
 down the bay on the steamer Illinois. Her name was after- 
 wards changed to North America, and she foundered at sea 
 off Cape Hatteras, with a loss of a great many lives, includ- 
 ing the San Francisco Minstrels, who played so long on 
 Broadway, opposite the Metropolitan Hotel. 
 
 The first night out, a northwester blew a gale, and con- 
 tinued for thirty-five hours, and most of the party were 
 very sick. After passing Hatteras the voyage was a pleasant 
 one all the way to Aspinwall, where we arrived on the 28th 
 of October, landing the next morning. We took the cars 
 on the Panama Railroad, which was then built to the Chci- 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 27 
 
 gres River. From there we had to take boats up the river 
 to Gorgonia or Cruces, thence to Panama by trail, on foot 
 or mule-back. At Barbacoas, where the railroad ended, two 
 of the passengers got into a quarrel, and, drawing their re- 
 volvers, commenced shooting at each other among the 
 crowd, with the result that one was mortally wounded, but 
 fortunately no one else was hurt. What became of the other 
 one I know not. 
 
 There seemed to be no law or order on the Isthmus at 
 that time. There were plenty of boatmen, with boats like a 
 large yawl, with a seat running from stem to stern on either 
 side. These boats would carry from ten to fifteen people, 
 besides the boatmen, consisting of four to five men besides 
 the captain, who was also the steersman. The boats were 
 propelled by long poles, the men walking on a narrow plat- 
 form on the edge of the boat, outside the seats and a few 
 inches above them. The men that handled the poles were 
 as naked as when they were born, except a hat and a wide 
 belt around the hips. The boats were started as soon as the 
 seats were filled, and, as every one was in a hurry to go, it 
 did not take long to fill a boat. Kate Hayes, one of the 
 great singers of that time, was among the passengers for 
 San Francisco. She passed us with a picked crew soon 
 after we started. The fare was four dollars to Gorgonia, 
 and six to Cruces, and the trip to the latter place could be 
 made in about fifteen hours. 
 
 A stop was made at Gorgonia, where there was a large 
 gambling house, and we were detained for three hours or 
 more, until the crew had lost all their money, when they 
 were ready to go on to Cruces. From Gorgonia to Cruces 
 the trip was made by daylight. We were seldom out of 
 sight of monkeys, alligators, or snakes. We sciw one very 
 
28 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 large boa constrictor that was stretched out over a mass of 
 bushes and vines, with a body larger than a man's thigh, but 
 his length could not be ascertained. All those who were 
 armed shot at him as he moved out of sight. One of the 
 boys shot a monkey and wounded it; the poor monkey 
 screamed and cried exactly like a child. So pitiful were its 
 screams that they shot no more monkeys. It seemed too 
 much like shooting a liuman being. A great deal of ammu- 
 nition was wasted on the huge alligators lying along the 
 edge of the river, with mouths held wide open for the flies 
 to collect in, when the jaws would come together with a 
 snap like a pistol shot. 
 
 At about noon we arrived at Cruces, nearly worn out by 
 the night's trip. We found lodgings in a bamboo house, and 
 slept in the upper story in hammocks. 
 
 The next morning the Gibbs party had increased to nine 
 in number, who stuck together for the trip of twenty-five 
 miles to Panama. Mules to ride cost twenty-five dollars, so 
 we made the trip on foot, engaging a pack train to carry 
 the baggage. We started out about 6 a. m. in good spirits. 
 Before lo a. m. a terrific thunder-storm set in, with the heat 
 terribly oppressive, while the rain came down in torrents. 
 In less than twenty minutes the sun was shining again. We 
 had nine thunder-showers before night, accompanied by 
 almost continuous thunder and lightning, such as are not 
 seen outside of the tropics. One small mountain stream 
 rose eighteen feet in twenty minutes, but went down almost 
 as fast. Although it was but a stone's throw across the 
 stream, a woman with a baby in arms, riding a mule, at- 
 tempted to ford the stream after it began to rise, and was 
 washed down in the current and drowned. 
 
 Just at dusk we reached Panama in safety, but completel)^; 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 29 
 
 drenched and covered with mud. Murders and robberies 
 were of ordinary occurrence among the passengers that 
 crossed the Isthmus in those days. Only about two-thirds 
 of the baggage sent through by mule-train from Cruces or 
 Gorgonia ever reached its owners. Kate Hayes rode a mule 
 across the Isthmus, astride on a man's saddle. She received 
 a great many cheers from the boys, as she passed, for her 
 courage and bravery. 
 
 The next day after we arrived at Panama, Asa Chase and 
 I took a notion to go down to the bay and take a swim. The 
 tide being out, we scrambled over the rocks for about half 
 a mile before we reached the water. We then piled our 
 clothes on the highest rock and started in for a good swim. 
 After swimming about a quarter of a mile, we looked back 
 and saw that the rocks were disappearing, and hurried back 
 for our clothes, which were in danger of being carried away 
 by the tide. We reached them just in time, and came near 
 having to swim ashore. When we reached town a native 
 was brought along with a leg cut off above the knee as 
 smooth as you could cut it with a knife. He had fallen off 
 a lighter upon which he was working, and a shark took off 
 his leg in the twinkling of an eye, but his comrades pulled 
 him aboard and saved his life. On learning the fact that 
 the bay w^as full of sharks, and that we had been out among 
 them, we felt very thankful for our escape, but a good deal 
 frightened at the risk we had run, and concluded to swim 
 no more at Panama. 
 
 For the next four days our party were engaged in seeing 
 the sights of Panama; watching the buzzards, the only 
 cleaners of the city; rambling along the old sea wall, hun- 
 dreds of years old, with its old cannon, as bright as when 
 hrst cast, but the old wooden carriages almost entirely rotted 
 
30 ONE OF THE PEOPLE . 
 
 away, and elsewhere. In the suburbs of the city we 
 gathered oranges and lemons from the trees scattered about 
 the hills overlooking the city and bay ; visited the cathedral, 
 and tried to pick up a little Spanish from the old market 
 women. Everything was new and strange, and we were 
 very much interested. 
 
 We bought steerage tickets for San Francisco from Pan- 
 ama on the old steamer Oregon, for one hundred and twenty- ^ 
 seven dollars, and sailed on the 4th of November, 1852. John 
 Gibbs, of our party, was installed as fourth mate for the trip 
 to San Francisco. On the first Sunday out from Panama, 
 Kate Hayes came on deck and sang at services conducted by 
 a minister of the gospel. Every passenger aboard the ship 
 was charmed with her voice. At her first concert in San 
 Francisco tickets were sold at auction, the first ticket bring- 
 ing over one thousand dollars. She was the most noted song- 
 stress that had ever visited San Francisco. Madame Anna 
 Bishop was afterwards considered her equal by some until 
 the immortal Patti appeared. 
 
 In less than ten days after the Oregon landed us at the 
 wharf at San Francisco I saw the minister who preached 
 on board the Oregon at the faro table in the El Dorado gam- 
 bling house, at the southeast corner of Kearney and Wash- 
 ington Streets, betting his money freely, still wearing his 
 clerical garb, apparently as sincere a sinner as any who sur- 
 rounded the gaming table. I mention these little incidents 
 to show how prone is human nature to yield to tempations 
 when in the midst of them. Away from home, friends and 
 restraining influences, man removes all masks, and his real 
 character stands out as in the noonday sun, with no check 
 but his own will ; hence the study of human traits was much 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 3I 
 
 easier In California in those days than in older communi- 
 ties where deceit and hypocrisy are so common. 
 
 On the 1 8th of November we met the steamship Golden 
 Gate, from San Francisco for Panama. Both vessels saluted 
 by firing several guns. John A. Gibbs was loading our gun, 
 when a premature discharge of the gun blew off both his 
 arms, which went to sea with the ramrod. His head 
 struck the railing and his skull was crushed. The first mate, 
 standing near, caught the body and saved it from going 
 overboard. Gibbs belonged to our party and was beloved 
 by all. The next day he was buried at sea. 
 
 We arrived at San Francisco about eleven o*clock Satur- 
 day night, the 20th of November, making the entire trip 
 in thirty-one days, including all stoppages. In San Fran- 
 cisco we stopped at the Howard House, on Pacific Street. 
 Just below us was Pacific Wharf, where all the up-river 
 steamers landed. The next day our party looked over the 
 town, and found all the gambling houses in full blast, as 
 well as the saloons and retail stores. People — nearly all 
 men — from every civilized nation on earth were on the 
 streets in their native costume, which was much more 
 marked than at the present time. To stand on the street 
 and observe the people pass, clad in such a variety of cos- 
 tumes, was a sight that could not be seen in any other city 
 of the world at that time. There were but few women in 
 San Francisco in those days, except the demi-monde, and 
 these were not numerous. 
 
 On Monday morning, after paying our last dollar for 
 board (we had but four dollars when we landed), and en- 
 gaging board at seventeen dollars a week, the landlord hav- 
 ing kindly agreed to trust us for the first week, we started 
 out to look for work. We had not stood on the corner of 
 
3^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Pacific and Front streets many minutes before several men 
 had asked us if we wanted work. John Clement went to 
 work at a dollar an hour helping to unload a ship, and the 
 re^t of us secured work at the same rate to unload wagons. 
 On the way down we had repeated offers of work at a dollar 
 an hour. The job that we had taken was too heavy for us, 
 and after two and a half hours we had to stop. We were 
 paid off, receiving two dollars and a half each, and were too 
 tired to make any further effort that day. The next day 
 we worked at sprouting onions, at twenty-five cents a hun- 
 dred pounds. At this we made eight dollars a day, so we 
 soon had money ahead. 
 
 San Francisco at that time was doubtless the liveliest town 
 on earth, and the following incident will illustrate the enter- 
 prise and go-aheadativeness of the times. We were on the 
 wharf one morning, when a load of lumber was driven close 
 to us and we were ordered to get out of the way. A man 
 told us that a store was to be put up that day and finished 
 at six p. m., as it was to be opened at seven. Nothmg but 
 the piles driven into the water, with some timbers on them, 
 was in place. We stopped for a while to see the work go 
 on and in a short time the floor was laid and a balloon 
 frame was going up when we left. At night we went down 
 to see what had been done, and found the store m full blast, 
 selling goods. The store was lined with cotton cloth ; shelves 
 and counters were all in, gas lights and fixtures were all up, 
 where but twelve hours before had been only a water lot. 
 
 While sprouting onions for an old gentleman, who seenied 
 very friendly, he asked me this question: ''Boy, what did 
 vou come to this country for?" "To make money I an- 
 swered ^'Well," he said, "let me give you a little advice. 
 ^'All right; let us hear it." "'WelV' he says, "you say you 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 33 
 
 were raised on a farm and know how to split rails, and that 
 you intend to go to the mines. Now, I'll tell you what to do, 
 and if at the end of three years you are not worth fifty thou- 
 sand dollars Ell give you the half of it, if I am worth it. 
 Get some one who knows how to farm, go across the bay, 
 up into the foothills, and build a cabin and split rails enough 
 to fence in a few acres of land. Then change work with 
 some of those ranchers, and get the land plowed and rails 
 hauled — and they will be glad to do it; and when you get 
 the land ready plant all kinds of fruit seeds, and in a year's 
 time you can begin to sell trees at a dollar apiece." *'Yes, 
 but how are we to make a living in the meantime?" "Oh, 
 I'll furnish you all you need, and you can pay me when you 
 sell your trees." *'Yes, you are very kind, but how are we 
 to get the land?" *'Why, you will just squat on it, and the 
 owners will be glad to have you, for it will improve it and 
 make it salable. No trouble about that. Now, you had 
 better try it, even if you have to lease a few acres at a good 
 price. It will pay you better than any mine." "You may 
 be right, and it looks encouraging. We will have a talk 
 with the party that came out here with us, and we will see 
 you to-morrow and let you know if we conclude to try it.'* 
 
 The old gentleman's proposition was a splendid one, and 
 we would have gone into it if we could have got any one to 
 go with us. We laid the matter before Joe Gibbs and the 
 rest of the party, but they all refused to undertake it. Had 
 Vv-e followed the old man's advice, we could have made three 
 hundred thousand dollars, instead of fifty thousand, for any 
 kind of fruit tree one year old brought a dollar a piece for 
 at least three years afterwards. 
 
 Circumstances seem to control a man's destiny, call it 
 
34 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 what you may — luck, management, or opportunity. Some 
 seem to drift along on a wave of prosperity without apparent 
 effort — or it may be a wave of disaster. Luck was firmly 
 believed in, in those days, and it did seem as though good 
 sense and good management did not amount to much except 
 in certain instances. The next day, Joe Gibbs had all of our 
 party hired out to Meigs to go to work at a steam lumber 
 mill at Mendocino Point, at the mouth of Big River, two 
 hundred and fifty miles up the coast. We were to receive 
 seventy-five dollars per month and board, and we were to 
 leave the next day, December 4, 1852, on the brigantine 
 Glencoe, expecting to reach our destination in about three 
 days. All were pleased to get a job of steady work. We 
 had been in San Francisco two weeks, and had provided 
 ourselves with clothing and blankets and had a little money 
 left. 
 
 We started with six other men, making eleven who were 
 passengers for the mills. Our quarters was a small house 
 on deck, just large enough for us all to lie down, with not 
 a foot of space to spare, but we thought we could stand it 
 for a three days' trip. For three days we beat against a 
 strong head wind. On the fourth day a heavy storm from 
 the southwest arose. The wind blew a gale, and the rain 
 fell in torrents. Just before night we ran into the little har- 
 bor at Mendocino Point and dropped both bow anchors ; but 
 we might as well have anchored in mid-ocean as far as any 
 shelter from the storm was concerned. We seemed to be 
 in an eddy, formed by the flood that came down Big River 
 and the point of rocks. 
 
 Fortunately the anchors had taken a good hold and held 
 the vessel fast. As she swung around, her keel was not 
 twenty feet from the rocks. The storm increased in vio- 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 35 
 
 lence as darkness came on. The shore was a perpendicular 
 bluff, from forty to fifty feet high, with the exception of the 
 lower point of rocks at our stern, and to go ashore was a 
 certainty of total wreck. Only ten days before, the schooner 
 Anderson had gone ashore at the same place and all hands 
 were drowned. The wrecked schooner lay about one hun- 
 dred and fifty feet from us, with the waves breaking over 
 her. All night long the men on shore were watching with 
 ropes to render us assistance, should we be so unfortunate 
 as to be driven ashore. We could communicate with them 
 through speaking trumpets, but they could do nothing to 
 help us. Every one of us were on deck all night, drenched 
 to the skin, and expecting to be driven ashore every mo- 
 ment. Thus we passed the night. 
 
 At daylight the storm had increased, the waves were 
 higher, and now and then a wave would break over us. All 
 day long the storm continued with unabated fury, and when 
 night came on not one of us expected to live to see daylight 
 again. At dusk the wind, rain and waves seemed higher 
 than ever, and, to make matters worse, huge redwood and 
 pine logs came down with the flood in Big River and circled 
 about us in the eddy in which we lay, pounding and grating 
 against our sides and threatening to break our anchor chains 
 as well as to punch a hole in the hull of the vessel. With 
 these added dangers threatening us, we were indeed in a 
 hopeless condition, and it seemed almost impossible that we 
 could get safely out of it. There was a number of pike poles 
 in the hold, and the captain had them brought up and set 
 us all to work to fight the logs to keep them from injuring 
 us. We all worked with a will to save the ship, and the 
 captain furnished us with plenty of Jamaica rum to keep 
 up our courage. Some of the logs were ten to fifteen feet 
 
36 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 in diameter, and it seemed as though they would surely 
 crush our vessel or tear the anchors loose. 
 
 About two o'clock in the morning the wind ceased and 
 it stopped raining, but the waves were as heavy as ever, and 
 the logs continued to come down the river, keeping us con- 
 stantly at work to fight them off. Our only safety was to put 
 to sea, if we could, but it was doubtful whether a boat could 
 live in such a sea. At about eight or nine o'clock a land 
 breeze sprang up, strong enough, the captain thought, to 
 drive us out to sea. We therefore raised one anchor and 
 hoisted a sail, which filled well and held her steady. Then 
 we raised the other anchor, and then began a great struggle. 
 It seemed impossible that we could make the open sea, but 
 on hoisting more sail she began to make a little headway, 
 and we were soon safe in open water. We hugged each 
 other and danced for joy. The old captain thanked us all, 
 treated us to grog, and ordered the cook to give us the best 
 meal he could prepare. We were almost famished with 
 hunger, as we had had nothing to eat but sailor biscuit since 
 the storm began, forty hours before. 
 
 In twenty-four hours the sea was calm again, and we 
 headed once more for our port, but that night another storm 
 arose from the southeast and carried us in a northwesterly 
 direction, far out to sea. The second day the wind blew 
 so hard that it tore every sail to ribbons that we had hoisted, 
 and seemed to increase during the night. All hands were 
 at work trying to bend a new sail, when the second mate 
 fell overboard and was drowned. There was no chance to 
 save him, as no boat could live for a moment in that storm. 
 His frantic cries for help will ever ring in my ears, but we 
 had to leave him to the mercy of the waves. This storm, 
 continued for several days, and when the captain was able 
 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 37 
 
 to see the sun and learn our whereabouts we were about a 
 thousand miles west of land. With a tolerably fair wind 
 the captain started for shore again, and we made good head- 
 way until there arose another storm that drove us further 
 north and tore our sails to rags. 
 
 Finally we sighted land at the northern end of Van- 
 couver's' Island, with snow apparently of immense depth 
 down to the coast line. That day we were caught in a calm 
 when about six miles from the breakers and were fast drift- 
 ing ashore. We had never seen our old captain so fright- 
 ened before. We were helplessly borne towards the break- 
 ers, till we were only two and a half miles off, with the sea 
 breaking over the rocks in plain sight and hearing. Every 
 sail was hoisted that we had left, but they hung limp and 
 lifeless, and it seemed inevitable that we must go on the 
 rocks. The water was too deep for our anchor, and we had 
 now drifted within a mile of the breakers, when a little puff 
 of wind sprang up, just strong enough to check our course, 
 and we held our own against the tide that was running m 
 towards the land. After an hour of suspense, the wind 
 began to fill our sails, and increased until we were safe 
 
 again. 
 
 Once more we headed for port, but that night the wmd 
 blew a gale from the north, and it was so cold that it cov- 
 ered the chains with ice, and loaded the brig so heavily for- 
 ward that she lay in the water with the stern three or four 
 feet higher than' the bow. After sunrise the next morning 
 the weather moderated somewhat, and she was soon cleared 
 of ice, but the gale continued and that day made ribbons of 
 the last whole set of sails we had left. When we started 
 from San Francisco we had three whole sets of sails aboard, 
 and now not a whole piece of sail was left. The wind was 
 
38 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 favorable and we made rapid progress toward our destina- 
 tion. We arrived without further mishap on December 
 26th, after twenty-two days of the stormiest voyage in the 
 log of the Glencoe. 
 
 We soon began our work, and, though it rained half of 
 the time, we were comfortably housed in tents near the mill 
 on the Point. There were about one hundred men at work 
 there, besides about fifty Indians. A hunter furnished elk 
 and deer meat for the camp. Elk were abundant in the for- 
 ests, and at times we saw herds of a hundred or more. Deer 
 were plentiful, so it was not a hard matter to keep us well 
 supplied with meat. One ounce of gold was paid for a deer 
 and two ounces for an elk, or sixteen and thirty-two dollars, 
 respectively. 
 
 Grass was six inches high in January, and the weather 
 was more like April and May in New York. Game of all 
 kinds was abundant. Wild strawberries were ripe the first 
 of March, and it seemed like a paradise to us. Our nearest 
 neighbors were at Albion River, about twenty miles away. 
 The foothills were covered with pine and redwood forests. 
 Some of the redwood trees were of gigantic size, averaging 
 fifteen to twenty feet in diameter — too large to be utilized 
 at that time, as there were no mills in the country that could 
 cut logs of that size. We had fine weather most of the time 
 during the months of January and February, but March 
 came in very wet. During the winter of 1852-53 there was 
 an immense fall of rain all over California. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS. 
 
 On the 3d of March, 1853, I was twenty-one years of 
 age. On the 17th I took passage on the familiar old brig 
 Glencoe for San Francisco. I had not seen a white woman 
 for nearly four months, and the captain's wife was a pleas- 
 ant sight to my eyes. She was not only an ordinary-looking 
 woman, but past middle age; but, then, she was a white 
 woman. 
 
 We were but twenty-four hours in making the trip to 
 San Francisco, while we were twenty-two days in making 
 the same trip from San Francisco to Mendocino. On my 
 arrival at the bay I at once went to the office of Harry 
 Meiggs, who at that time was the most popular man in San 
 Francisco. He was paymaster for the mills at Mendocino. 
 He accepted my order on him, but informed me that he paid 
 orders only at ten days after sight. I offered him a discount, 
 but he would not pay me before the time was up, so I got 
 my order cashed at a broker's at a heavy discount. I left 
 San Francisco on the 23d of March for Marysville. When 
 I arrived at »Sacramento I went uptown, and the steamer 
 left me, taking my baggage ; so I awaited the steamer's re- 
 turn to recover it. 
 
 I left Sacramento the 28th of March. It had been raining 
 heavily while I was in Sacramento, and the river was rising 
 
 39 
 
40 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 rapidly. On the way up from Sacramento to Marysville the 
 river was from twenty-five to fifty miles wide; in fact, the 
 whole valley was under water, and the only way we could 
 follow the main channel was to keep between the tops of 
 the Cottonwood trees that grew along the banks of the river. 
 Drowned horses and cattle and wreckage of all kinds went 
 floating by. We passed men sitting on the tops of their 
 cabins, but they generally had a boat, waiting for their 
 houses to float away, or the water to go down. Some came 
 on board the steamer and were taken to Marysville with us. 
 When we arrived at Marysville the water was from one to 
 three feet deep in every house and store in town, and we 
 landed in Adams' Express office with the water a foot deep 
 on the floor. Everybody lived in the second story, or on 
 top of the houses, and it was impossible to get a meal in 
 the town. A Norwegian sailor and myself concluded to 
 leave town, via the road to Downieville, on the North Yuba 
 River. After wading in water from one to two feet deep 
 for two or three miles we finally reached dry land ; but the 
 rain came down in torrents and we were in a sad plight. It 
 took us all day to reach the Eleven-Mile House, where we 
 got something to eat and a fire to dry ourselves. 
 
 Just before sundown the clouds broke away and the sun 
 set in a clear sky. We stopped all night, and the next morn- 
 ing set out for Downieville, in Sierra County, at that time 
 one of the richest mining districts on the Yuba River. 
 We passed the Galena House and the Dobbins Ranch, and 
 stopped all night at Bullard's Bar. The next morning we 
 crossed the river in a dugout, which was carried four or 
 five hundred feet down stream, and we came near being 
 drowned. However, we got over with a no more serious 
 result than a good ducking. This was March 30th, and we 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 41 
 
 had a hard day's tramp, but at last reached the Mountain 
 House and stopped overnight. The next morning we went 
 down the mountain, with the snow thirty feet deep on each 
 side of us, the trail having been worn and washed by the 
 rain and melting snow down to the ground. We soon 
 reached Goodyear's Bar, and that day arrived at the famous 
 Downieville mine. I looked about for a couple of days, then 
 bought tools and provisions, and on April 4th I did my first 
 day's work at mining and took out enough gold to pay for 
 my board. 
 
 Then I went prospecting with my sailor friend, took up 
 a claim, and we washed out four or five dollars. But unfor- 
 tunately I was taken ill, and in a short while my money was 
 all gone. On the first day of May I had to pawn my clothes 
 to pay my board. I continued to work a little now and then, 
 but was badly discouraged, and sometimes wished myself 
 back home. Finally my sailor friend got an old tent, and 
 we went about a mile up the South Fork of the North Fork 
 of the Yuba, took up a claim, and went to mining for our- 
 selves. But our claim was poor, and it rained a great deal. 
 Provisions were very high, and we had to take out consider- 
 able gold to pay for our food. We struggled along until 
 about the middle of June, when we threw up the claim, and 
 I got a job at four dollars per day and board at the north 
 end of LTardy's Flat. My sailor friend I never saw again. 
 
 On the 19th of June I got the first letter from home, it 
 being over eight months since I left. I had sent home the 
 money that I had borrowed to come to California, and this 
 was the first news that it had been received. Our work in 
 the tunnel was very hard, but I was in fair health and I 
 stood it pretty well. About this time a felon appeared 
 
42 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 on my thumb and I lost my job. After a week's idleness I 
 went to work at seventy-five dollars a month and board. A 
 short time after this I went into a wing dam scheme to work 
 the bed of the river. We finally got it in, and on the first 
 day's washing took out four hundred dollars from a "pot 
 hole." After that we did not make expenses. Rather rough, 
 after working weeks in water up to our waists to get the 
 
 dam in. 
 
 I kept my job of seventy-five dollars per month after the 
 wing dam gave out, and worked until I had my debts paid. 
 Then I went down to Cox's Bar and hired out for one hun- 
 dred dollars per month, working the river bed. About this 
 time I saw an Indian hung at Downieville for killing a 
 Chinaman. 
 
 The miners generally went to town every Sunday, and 
 this is what I saw one Sunday on the street of Downie- 
 ville. There were two large gambling saloons in the town, 
 about one hundred and fifty feet apart, with the eternal 
 chink, chink, chink ringing in your ears from morn to mid- 
 night. All stores were open, full of miners buying supplies. 
 On the opposite side of the street from one of the gambling 
 houses was a noisy auctioneer selling all sorts of notions, 
 and almost in front of a gambling house was a minister of 
 the gospel preaching from the top of an empty whisky barrel 
 to a good-sized audience. A short distance down the street 
 was a dance hall in a house of prostitution, with the music 
 and the noise of scuffling feet plainly heard. On the street 
 a man was riding furiously up and down on a mule that he 
 was offering for sale to the highest bidder. Bands of music 
 at each gambling house were vieing with each other in their 
 efforts to attract customers, and the blare of ragtime melo- 
 dies filled the air. Whisky, as well as clay pipes and tobacco, 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 43 
 
 was free at the tores to all patrons, and they could help 
 themselves. 
 
 Every man had a revolver slung to his hip, yet everything 
 was moving along smoothly in this pandemonium, with 
 scarcely a drunken man in sight. I leaned against a post 
 and reflected. Never before or since have I witnessed such 
 a sight. Not a decent woman could be seen in this throng 
 of perhaps three or four thousand persons, comprising men 
 of every civilized nation on earth. At no other place could 
 there be such a sight at this time ; nowhere else such a cos- 
 mopolitan crowd. 
 
 Up to this time I had heard very little from home, and 
 the influences of my early training were getting weaker, 
 and I had become infatuated with gambling to such an ex- 
 tent that I could not pass a gambling hell with a dollar in 
 my pocket that it did not burn, so to speak, until I had 
 staked it to win or lose. No vice is so fascinating as gam- 
 bling, none so hard to break. 
 
 One Sunday, when in town, I received two letters from 
 my father filled with good advice, but nevertheless I vis- 
 ited the gambling house and played until my last dollar 
 was gone, then started for home alone. On my way I sat 
 down at the side of the trail and read my letters again, then 
 began to think over my condition. What was I doing? 
 What course was I pursuing? I was friendless, penniless, 
 and almost hopeless of ever seeing home or friends again. 
 Again I read the letters, and then and there I firmly resolved 
 never to gamble again. I had no further temptation until 
 the next Sunday, which I looked forward to with some 
 anxiety, as I wished to test my power to resist. I went to 
 my usual place at the gambling table with my week's wages 
 in my pockets, ready for the trial. I won the battle, but it 
 
44 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 was a terrible ordeal. The succeeding Sunday I had a simi- 
 lar experience, but stuck firmly to my resolution, and I have 
 never gambled since. 
 
 About this time I invested in a lottery scheme, holding 
 about twenty tickets. The first prize was a thousand dollars 
 in fifty-dollar slugs, and the second prize a five-hundred- 
 dollar watch and chain. I held the ticket that won the sec- 
 ond prize, which did me good service a few weeks after, 
 when I had typhoid fever and got out of money. Wells, 
 Fargo & Co. Express gave me two hundred and fifty dollars 
 on the watch alone, which saved me from much suffering 
 during my illness. 
 
 ^ I lost my job at Cox's Bar, but I found a vacant claim, 
 which I took up. I commenced working it with a rocker, 
 making three to eight dollars per day. My appearance was 
 rather boyish, as I had no beard, and was somewhat under- 
 sized, not having got my growth yet. The miners at Cox's 
 Bar and Snake Bar called me ''boy," and I was probably 
 the youngest person there. 
 
 One day near noon, while at work on my claim, I noticed 
 a man of very dark complexion, seemingly an Italian, with 
 very black whiskers, and an ugly look on his face, standing 
 on the bank above me, watching my actions very intently. 
 I soon left my work and went to my cabin, near by, to get 
 my dinner. I was gone about an hour, and when I returned 
 I found the stranger at work on my claim. Pie had removed 
 my rocker and tools to the bank and had taken full posses- 
 sion of my claim. ''Hello!" says L 'What are you doing 
 here?" 'This is my claim," he says, in fairly good English, 
 "and I am going to work it. There's your tools." I was 
 very much surprised, and we entered into an animated con- 
 versation. He declared that he should hold that claim, an4 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 45 
 
 threatened to knock me down with his shovel if I did not 
 leave. "We'll see about that," I said, and I started in search 
 of the man who told me that claim was vacant. I found him 
 with two other men a short distance av/ay and explained 
 the matter to them. They told me to get ten or fifteen men 
 from the neighboring claims and tell them to report in half 
 an hour for the purpose of holding an arbitration, and they 
 would see that I had my rights. When I returned to my 
 claim several miners had got there ahead of me, and very 
 soon about twenty had assembled. My friend explained the 
 laws of the camp and related all the circumstances of the 
 case. Then one of the miners called upon the trespasser 
 for his statement, but he made no reply. They told him to 
 stop work and state his case. He answered that it was his 
 claim and that he intended to work it. After a few mo- 
 ments' consultation they appointed my friend as spokesman, 
 who plainly informed the would-be claim-owner that they 
 would give him five minutes to take his tools and leave the 
 neighborhood at once. 
 
 The spokesman held his watch, and for three minutes the 
 man continued his work; but before the five minutes were 
 up he had gathered up his tools and, with muttered curses, 
 left as fast as his legs could carry him, and I was fully re- 
 stored to my rights. This whole proceeding took but an 
 hour, and I was again back to my work. 
 
 This little episode shows how miners meted out justice 
 and upheld one another in the days of 1853 in the mines 
 of California. 
 
 A more wide awake, intelligent, enterprising body of men 
 could not be found on earth than the miners in the moun- 
 tains of California at that time. All were between the ages 
 of twenty and forty-five, and represented the highest type 
 
46 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 of manhood from every civilized country on the globe. To 
 mingle with such a class of people was an excellent school- 
 ing, and gave me an education of self-reliance, ambition, 
 and a fund of knowledge that would be impossible to gain 
 in any other way. 
 
 A short time before I was ill with the typhoid fever I was 
 working in a tunnel under a hill, with the bed rock nearly 
 level, and a layer of pay dirt nearly two feet deep on the 
 bed rock. The tunnel was over one hundred feet back from 
 the shaft. A man with a wheelbarrow was wheeling the pay 
 dirt to the shaft, while I was drifting and timbering up, as 
 we advanced. We were on a nest of boulders, some of them 
 very large, and I had to exercise a good deal of care in keep- 
 ing them well timbered, so they would not cave down upon 
 us. I came to a very large rock, that seemed to be flat on 
 the under side and was up about five feet above the bed 
 rock. It extended clear across the tunnel, and I had got the 
 dirt from under it over four feet, but had not reached the 
 edge of it in any direction. I tapped on it with the pick, and 
 it appeared to be very solid, with no signs of falling. I 
 thought I could risk it and go ahead. I picked into the 
 bank for a moment or two, and stepped back for some rea- 
 son, but no sooner got from underneath it than down it 
 came, the front edge brushing my hat and fastening the toe 
 of my boot to the ground. Had I remained where I was 
 I would have been crushed to a jelly, for it was at least ten 
 feet in diameter. Just why I stepped back I never could tell, 
 for I had no idea of its falling without some warning well 
 known to miners. My narrow escape made a lasting impres- 
 sion upon my memory. 
 
 Upon the first of December I was working more or less 
 at Goodyear's Bar, Cox's Bar, and along the river. I then 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 47 
 
 formed a partnership with J. A. McCuin and Doc Nelson. 
 We started for Indian Creek Valley, and visited the Galena 
 Hill, Railroad Gulch, Oak Valley, and Young's Hill mines, 
 but water was very scarce. Although the rainy season had 
 set in some time before, there was no water to wash with in 
 these dry diggings. 
 
 January i, 1854, found me at R. R. Hill, and while there 
 I got a letter from home. I sold out my interest at R. R. 
 Hill and started with Mack for Sand Hill to see my friend 
 John Boyer, who had been holding for me for some time a 
 claim which would have yielded an ounce of gold a day. 
 He had written to me to come on, but I did not get his letter, 
 and I lost the best thing I ever had thus far. On February 
 24th, Mack and I decided to go to Allhouse Creek, in Ore- 
 gon, but postponed the trip until spring on account of snow. 
 So Mack concluded to visit a friend at Sacramento, while 
 I went to San Francisco to remain until we thought it safe 
 to start for Oregon by way of Crescent City, taking a 
 steamer from San Francisco to that point. 
 
 I remained in San Francisco until the 226. day of April, 
 1854. I was working part of time while there, and helped 
 cut Powell Street through from North Beach. Mack came 
 down from Sacramento, and we took passage on board the 
 little side-wheel steamer America for Crescent City, Del 
 Norte County, Cal., on the 226. of April, arriving there on 
 the 24th. Crescent City was a scattering town of three or 
 four hundred inhabitants, with no harbor. We stayed over- 
 night and started on our march over the mountains the next 
 morning. We went through the red woods of Smith's River 
 and journeyed on to Illinois Valley and Allhouse Creek, 
 some sixty miles distant. When leaving Smith's River we 
 had to go over a mountain twenty miles, without a drop of 
 
4^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 water. The trail was very good, but it went over long 
 stretches of bare rock that had taken up the heat from the 
 noonday sun, and it burned our feet almost to a blister. 
 They became so sore that we could hardly walk. Just be- 
 fore sundovv^n we came to the long-looked-for spring of 
 water, and there we rested and slaked our thirst and cooled 
 our feet. We then hobbled on to a farm house in the valley 
 of the Illinois River, where we were glad to stay overnight. 
 My feet did not get over that trip for years. The next day 
 we passed Sailors' Diggings, and reached the mouth of All- 
 house Creek, Oregon, the 27th of April. 
 
 After resting a few days we went to work at three dollars 
 a day, the standard wages on the Creek at that time. We 
 were very much discouraged by the prospect. I bought a 
 share in a claim with an old sailor and we made some money. 
 One day in passing some sluice boxes where the water was 
 turned off I found a small speckled trout, and by this dis- 
 covery knew that there must be trout in the creek. The 
 stream was very muddy all the week, but on Sundays it 
 cleared. I always carried fish hooks and lines with me, and 
 the next Sunday found me cutting a rod, catching grass- 
 hoppers for bait, and making ready for fishing. There was 
 a nice pool in front of some miners' cabins, where perhaps 
 a dozen or fifteen miners lived, many of whom were doing 
 their week's washing. They all set in to guy me, as no one 
 supposed there was a fish in the creek. One said, "Oh, 
 come up here and fish in my tub." *'Yes," says another, 
 "you might catch a good, fat grayback; he's lousy, any- 
 how.'' I stood their jeers and remarks without a word until 
 I got ready to try the pool, when to their great astonish- 
 ment I landed a fine six-ounce beauty. All rushed to see it, 
 and many a cheer went up for me, as the laugh was now on 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 49 
 
 my side, and it was my turn to do a little chaffing. I con- 
 tinued down the stream for a mile and brought back eight 
 pounds of as fine trout as one could wish to see. The next 
 Sunday the creek was lined with fishermen, and in about six 
 weeks it was hard to get even a bite. 
 
 Cinnamon, grizzly, and black bear were very plentiful on 
 the mountains, each side of the creek, and the miners that 
 ventured to disturb them in their haunts had many a hard 
 encounter with them. 
 
 The winter before, the Rogue River Indians had tried to 
 drive the miners off the creek, and there was some hard 
 fighting there. It was a hard place to winter, and McCuin 
 and I decided to go to Jacksonville, and if we found nothing 
 to suit us there to go on south to Yreka. 
 
 My claim was still paying very well, but nearly worked 
 out. I traded it for an Indian pony, packed all our tools, 
 blankets and clothes, and with my partner started out on 
 foot for Jacksonville, Oregon, where we arrived September 
 I2th. I had a letter from Mack requesting us to come to 
 Yreka, and we left September 14th for that town. The next 
 night we stopped at the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains with 
 an old rancher, and paid one dollar a piece to lay on the floor 
 and find our own blankets. We got plenty of feed for the 
 pony, and started to climb the Siskiyou Range, which 
 brought us into California again. We saw no one until we 
 got into the Klamath Valley. Here we found plenty of 
 ranches. The scenery from the Siskiyous is grand. Old 
 Mount Shasta, with its fourteen-thousand-feet-high, snowy 
 summit, is one of the grandest peaks on the American con- 
 tinent. Rough, wild and silent were the immense forests 
 of fir, pine and cedar that we traveled through, and Nature 
 in all her grandeur held full sway. 
 
go ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 We arrived at Yreka September i6, 1854, after a tramp 
 of one hundred and twenty miles from Allhouse Creek. I 
 found Mack at work in Yreka, a mining town of consider- 
 able importance at that time. It was in the centre of the 
 Yreka flats, where thousands of miners were at work on the 
 various creeks and gulches for many miles around. 
 
 The town was full of life and thrift, with a sta.5e to the 
 lower country every day. Plere we concluded to tie up and 
 try to make something. A party of six entered into a part- 
 nership and bought a claim on Canal Gulch, about one and 
 a half miles northwest of town. We soon had a cabin built, 
 lumber sawed and everything ready for work. There were 
 about three hundred miners on the gulch. We could wash 
 out no gold until the rains came, but we had plenty of work 
 stripping off about ten feet of soil before we came to pay 
 dirt. All worked with a will, and in a short time we were 
 ready to begin washing. My partners' names were Frank 
 and Bill Patterson, old man Hollyall, from Maine ; John 
 Van Order, from Ithaca, N. Y. ; Horace P. Cummings, also 
 from Maine, and an old Mexican soldier and also a sailor, 
 but one of the best men I ever knew. McCuin was with us 
 until March, 1855. when Van Order and myself bought him 
 out, and he started for the States. Old man Holly was the 
 last one to sell to us three. We stuck to the old claim, which 
 was always good for five to eight dollars a day to the man. 
 We bought and sold other mines, hired men to work them, 
 and kept very busy. One summer I attended the w ater ditch 
 for the Yreka Company, at one hundred and fifty dollars 
 per month. The portion of ditch that I was attending ran 
 near a den of rattlesnakes, and I killed from three to six 
 every day, some of them very large ones. 
 
 Cummings, Van Order and myself lived in one cabin to- 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 51 
 
 gether for two and a half years without a word of dispute 
 or any ill feeling. We had some difficulty in getting rid of 
 old man Holly, but succeeded by paying him five hundred 
 dollars for his interest. Here we took turns in cooking, a 
 week at a time. I think that was the happiest time of my 
 life while in California. Some of the time v/e made money 
 fast, and at other times nothing, especially in the summer 
 when we had no water, though we managed to pay expenses. 
 I sent my father money now and then to help him along in 
 his old age. Many miners went home from Canal Gulch in 
 those days, and the books, of all kinds, that they left fell 
 to me. They were of all kinds, novels predominating. His- 
 tory, school books, religious books, scientific works, phonog- 
 raphy, and, in fact, something on almost all subjects. I 
 thus had a rich store of knowledge to draw from, and I 
 improved my time to best advantage. Pitman's Manual of 
 Phonography was among my treasures, and I studied it 
 enough to get the corresponding style so I could write and 
 read it quite readily. 
 
 Many amusing incidents occurred while I was at Canal 
 Gulch. Cummings had a good double-barreled shotgun, 
 but never used it except to fire a salute on the Fourth of 
 July. But I was fond of hunting, and during the winters 
 I kept our larder well supplied with quail, grouse, rabbits, 
 and now and then a wild goose. Deer and mountain sheep 
 were plentiful in the mountains, but it was too far away 
 to reach them on foot. 
 
 A colony of Kanakas from the Sandwich Islands had a 
 permanent camp but a short distance from our cabin, and 
 some of them were quite intelligent. There were two 
 women, two or three children, and about fifty or sixty 
 men in the colony. Nearly all were engaged in mining, but 
 
52 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 they lived according to their former customs, pol and baked 
 puppies being their principal diet. We were their nearest 
 neighbors, and, being on good terms with them, frequently 
 got an invitation to eat 'poi and baked dog. The way they 
 cooked a dog was as follows. They built a small log fire 
 and piled large cobblestones upon it until they became very 
 hot. In the meantime they dug a hole in the dry earth, 
 shaped like the inside of a bowl, then put in a layer of hot 
 stones, then a double layer of cabbage leaves. On top of 
 these they laid the dog, neatly dressed, and covered it with 
 cabbage leaves, then a layer of hot stones over all, then 
 more leaves, and carefully covered the whole with earth 
 or sand, and left it to bake for two hours. When served it 
 looked like a young pig roasted to perfection. They in- 
 vited me to eat some of it, and I finally took a small piece 
 and found it very much better than I expected. It tasted 
 much like roast pig. I ate a little of the poi also, but did not 
 relish that at all. 
 
 Many of these Kanakas were anxious to learn English, 
 and I told them that if not less than twenty would give me 
 a quarter of a dollar apiece for two hours' teaching each 
 evening, five nights in a week, they to furnish their own 
 lights and a room and their own books, the money payable 
 each night before school opened, I would teach them the rest 
 of the summer. They soon had twenty-five scholars ready, 
 so I went to town to secure the books needed, but did not find- 
 quite enough to go around and supplemented them with a 
 blackboard. Under my directions a cabin was fitted up, and 
 the next week I opened the school. On the first night I had 
 thirty pupils, ranging in age from eighteen to fifty-five years, 
 and the most interesting set of pupils that any pedagogue 
 ever faced, and I think the most earnest and obedient. Some 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 53 
 
 learned very fast, others very slow, but the majority made 
 good progress, and the school flourished so well that they 
 built anew log schoolhouse and fitted it up with desks and 
 benches. The following incident will show how earnest 
 they were in their work: 
 
 Some of the youngest and brightest of them were fond 
 of whisky, and sometimes would come to school pretty full 
 and create considerable disturbance. One named Jack, about 
 twenty-four years of age, was generally the most trouble- 
 some. One night we had more disturbance than usual, 
 and at the close of the school I informed them that they 
 must adopt some measures among themselves to see that 
 the school was kept more quiet, or I would have to stop 
 teaching them. The next Sunday morning they called a 
 meeting and invited me to attend. I told them I wished 
 to have nothing to do about it, but whatever they agreed to 
 do must be done, and then we could go on with the school. 
 I expected they would vote to expel any unruly member, 
 by force if need be. But no. They voted, without a dis- 
 senting vote, to fine every member who made any disturb- 
 ance twenty-five cents, and the fine was to be paid to me. 
 Of course this was satisfactory to me, and the school went 
 on. I got a good many quarters from Jack, and some from 
 four or five others who had taken a little too much fire- 
 water before coming to school. 
 
 I kept the school going for four or five months, and many 
 of them learned to read and write English quite well, but 
 the number of scholars had fallen off until I had but ten, 
 and I closed the school. My pay had averaged about twenty 
 dollars per week, but it was a little too hard on me to work 
 all day and teach at night, and I was glad it was over. 
 
 •We made money on our claim, but in our outside invest- 
 
54 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ments we were not so fortunate. We bought for a few 
 dollars a large claim on the Flats, a quarter of a mile north 
 of Canal Gulch, termed dry diggings, with no water or 
 any chance to get any except from the Eureka water ditch, 
 which had just been finished, but no water yet. We pros- 
 pected the ground thoroughly, but found nothing that 
 would pay over three or four dollars a day to the man. Still, 
 we thought we would try it again when we could get water. 
 About a stone's throw from us lived a State of Maine 
 Yankee, who drawled out his words in a slow and listless 
 manner. One day this Yank came to our cabin and in- 
 quired if we wanted to sell out our claim over there. We 
 told him the price was three hundred dollars. 'Wal," said 
 he, "ain't thet rather high ? I wouldn't buy onless ycu'd let 
 me prospect a little." We told him to go ahead. We saw 
 no more of him for six weeks, when he came around and 
 said he didn't get much of a prospect, but he'd give us two 
 hundred dollars for it. "No," we told him, "we would work 
 it ourselves." "Wal, I'll give ye two hundred and fifty 
 dollars fer it ; mebbe I can get wages out of it." We offered 
 to split the difference. After much talk and hesitation, he 
 said he guessed he'd take it and weighed out the dust to us 
 and went away. When he got water he seemed to know 
 exactly where to set his sluice boxes. He hired two China- 
 men, and for three or four months he took out twenty dollars 
 a day to the man. 
 
 The next spring the same man was cutting wood in the 
 top of a pine tree he had cut down. He had laid his coat 
 on the stump and a buckskin purse with five hundred dollars 
 in gold dust in it. Bob Whittle had a cow that was run- 
 ning about at will, and, comirg up to the stump, soon had 
 the purse in her mouth -hew'ng it np. The Yank looked up 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 55 
 
 and took in the situation at once, and went for the cow, but 
 was too late, as she had swallowed the whole thing as soon 
 as she was disturbed. We notified Whittle at once and tried 
 to buy the cow, but Whittle would not sell. He agreed that 
 she might be watched for results, but after ten days passed 
 without returns a price was set, and the miner bought the 
 cow, which was killed, and the gold, except about twenty 
 dollars, was found in her paunch. This incident went the 
 rounds of the papers all over the United States. 
 
 We continued to work the old claim with more or less 
 success, but we were all anxious to return to our homes 
 in the States. In those days no one ever thought of mak- 
 ing a home in California. At Yreka and vicinity there were 
 not more than five or six respectable women. Consequently 
 there was no society. 
 
 In 1856 several women came in from the States, among 
 whom were Mrs. White, wife of Mr. White, of the firm 
 of King & White, merchants of Yreka; also the wife of D. 
 D Colton, then sheriff of Siskiyou County, and a few others 
 whose names I have forgotten. By the way, there js a little 
 unwritten history about D. D. Colton. the late S. P. K K. 
 official who named the town of Colton, San Bernardino 
 County. Cal., after himself. _ 
 
 Dave Colton came to California with five or six others 
 from Indiana or Illinois, across the plains, in 1852 or 53, 
 and they commenced mining on the Yreka Flats a short dis- 
 tance from town. Colton and work did not agree, and 
 the other boys had to do it all. Colton was a good fellow 
 n-,t vicious or intemperate, but simply lazy. He finally quit 
 mining and went to town. He got a job of copying in a 
 lawyer's office and managed to eke out a precarious living 
 with some help from the boys he came out with. An elec- 
 
56 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 tion was to come off soon, and some one conceived the idea 
 of running Dave Colton for sheriff of the county. Though 
 none expected him to be elected, he received a good ma- 
 jority. This was the turning point in Colton's career. The 
 office was worth about fifty thousand dollars a year, and 
 Colton was shrewd enough to make it pay all it was worth. 
 He made a good sheriff and was well liked. He was for- 
 tunate enough to be elected for a second term. He saved a 
 great deal of money, made good investments, and built a 
 theater and several substantial brick business houses that 
 brought him in large rentals. 
 
 While serving his second term a miner was killed in his 
 cabin and the murderer escaped. Suspicion rested on a 
 man who left very suddenly for the East, and Colton was 
 sent after him. He was gone several months and visited 
 his old home in the States. While there he got married 
 and brought his wife back with him, but no prisoner. He 
 charged the county seventeen hundred dollars for making 
 the trip. This did not increase his popularity very much 
 among the people, and politically he was played out. 
 
 About this time an Indian war broke out at the head 
 waters of the Sacramento River and about Klamath Lake. 
 A number of miners and settlers had been killed by the 
 Indians who had collected a large force near Klamath 
 Lake. Volunteers were called for, and a company of a 
 hundred men went from Yreka. They were gone about 
 ten days, and were forunate to surprise and kill a large 
 number of the Indians just at daylight one morning. This 
 aroused the Indians and they challenged the whites to come 
 out and fight them. Dave Colton was at Sacramento and 
 was appointed a brigadier-general of volunteers by the 
 Governor of the State, and ordered to take command at once. 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 57 
 
 General Colton got to Yreka as soon as he could, and, call- 
 ing for volunteers, secured quite a respectable force. About 
 fifty or sixty miles out the scouts of the column found the 
 Indians, and were driven back to the main column. General 
 Colton at once made preparations to meet the enemy by 
 establishing headquarters with his staff on the top of a 
 mound, in which that part of the country abounds. After 
 the general had got to the mound he sang out, *'Boys, charge 
 those red devils and drive them back. I'll watch from this 
 mound. Let me know if anything goes wrong." The boys 
 attacked the Indians and drove them back, killing many, 
 with a loss of only one man killed and two wounded. The 
 general and staff returned alone, and the boys came in in 
 twos and threes. The Indians quieted down soon after, and 
 the war was over. Colton came to Sacramento, fell in with 
 Huntington, Hopkins, Stanford, and Crocker, and during 
 the rest of his life was connected with the S. P. R. R. 
 
 During the winter of '55-'56 I and my partners were 
 interested in four or five different claims, and I was 
 made treasurer. Each day, or at the end of the week, the 
 gold taken out was delivered to me, and every Sunday morn- 
 ing it was divided and delivered to each shai-eholder. 
 
 One Sunday morning, for some reason no one came for 
 their gold, and I had between four and five hundred dollars 
 worth to divide. Nearly all the miners went to town on 
 Sunday. My partners had gone, and I wanted to go, but 
 what should I do with the gold? I could not take it with 
 me, and feared to leave it unless I could hide it in some 
 secure place. Thieves were plentiful. In looking about the 
 cabin I saw the coffee pot sitting on a little shelf above the 
 fireplace, and concluded it would be as safe in that as any- 
 where. So I dropped it in and set the pot back in its place 
 
58 ONE Of the people 
 
 and went to town. One of my partners came home with me 
 before night, and when we reached the cabin we found some 
 one had been there and dug up the floor, turned our 
 bunlcs inside out, and went through every box and place 
 they could think of, evidently looking for hidden treasure. 
 I jumped for the coffee pot the very first thing and found 
 the purse all safe and sound. I notified all the boys at once 
 to come and get their gold. They congratulated me on my 
 good fortune. Nothing was missing, but the cabin was a 
 wreck. The reason the boys did not come for their money 
 that morning was that a duel was to be fought that day, and 
 they all hurried off to town as soon as they got up. The 
 duel was between two well-known gamblers who had fallen 
 out about some woman, and a lot of wags encouraged them 
 to fight a duel. 
 
 The Hoag boys, who kept a livery stable; Dick French, 
 who kept the Yreka House ; Tom Vance, the greatest lover 
 of fun in town, and several others were the instigators 
 of the whole thing. Two of them were chosen as seconds. 
 They made all the arrangements, and the principals, as well 
 as the public at large, thought it a bona Ude duel. At mid- 
 day a smooth. spot of ground just over a low hill east of the 
 town was measured off, and full instructions given. It was 
 generally known about town that a duel was to come off, 
 as a report was circulated that the officers of the town in- 
 tended to break it up and arrest not only the principals, 
 but all other persons on the ground. For this reason not 
 more than a hundred of us were at the fight. Everything 
 was carried out according to the code. Pistols were ex- 
 amined, loaded, and handed to the principals, who were 
 placed back to back, thirty paces apart, and at the word 
 "Three" were to wheel and fire. If neither of them were 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 59 
 
 hit they were to go through the same performance again. 
 One of the men seemed a httle shaky, but did not weaken, 
 and they went through the exchange of shots all right, and 
 were about to make the second exchange when some one 
 shouted, ''Officers !" and we all scattered in every direction 
 to avoid arrest. 
 
 The general opinion was that it was a real duel, but I 
 was informed by Tom Vance, as we were riding home to- 
 gether on the same steamer a year or more after the duel, 
 that it was a fake, and that the pistols were loaded with blank 
 cartridges, though unknown to the principals, and the whole 
 thing worked exactly as intended. One of the principals 
 left town soon after, as he was told by one who knew the 
 true state of affairs how the matter really stood, and he 
 could not stand to face the jeers that he expected from his 
 comrades when the real truth of the affair came out. 
 
 The next winter I was a witness of a genuine prize fight 
 that occurred only a stone's throw from our cabin in the 
 center of Canal Gulch. One day while it was snowing, 
 about fifty men suddenly made their appearance and com- 
 menced clearing away the snow, which was a foot and a 
 half deep, from a level piece of ground on the upper end 
 of our claim. They staked and roped a twenty-four foot 
 ring for a prize fight. The purse was one hundred dollars. 
 It was a cold, raw, stormy day. There were about seventy- 
 five of us, so that we made only a single line just outside 
 the ropes. An Englishman and an Irishman of about thirty 
 years of age were the men that were to fight. The referee 
 and seconds had been chosen before they left town. Time 
 was soon called and they fought to a finish in forty-three 
 rounds. A more brutal, disgusting affair and sickening 
 sight I never witnessed before. One of tlie eyes of the 
 
6o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Englishman was closed entirely, and the Irishman broke his 
 wrist and lost the fight. Both were covered with blood and 
 both badly punished. I have never had a desire to see a 
 prize fight since. 
 
 A man by the name of B. W. Converce owned a claim 
 adjoining ours, right above us, on Canal Gulch. He lived 
 alone, and we never saw him away from his claim or cabin. 
 One day I thought I would go to see him, and I found him 
 lying on his bunk with a book. He treated me very pleas- 
 antly and asked me to call again. I saw no more of him 
 for some months, when one day he was helped by some men 
 to his cabin, and we found that he had been bitten by a rattle- 
 snake while on the Klamath River trail, a few miles north of 
 us. He related the affair to me as follows : "I was going 
 along the trail on the side of the mountain a short distance 
 from the river (it was the month of August, 1855), when I 
 heard the familiar sound of the rattler, and almost immedi- 
 ately felt a sting in the calf of the leg. I killed the snake 
 and started on, but had gone but a few steps when every- 
 thing seemed to darken and I could not stand, so I lay down 
 near a very small stream of water trickling down the side 
 of the mountains. My thirst soon became intolerable, and 
 I scooped out with my hand a little hole near my face, 
 which soon filled with water, and I could turn my head over 
 and drink. The pain was terrible, and my leg was swollen 
 to double its ordinary size, and I was fast becoming uncon- 
 scious. I knew that there was no one within a mile of me, 
 and I had not strength enough to call if there had been. I 
 knew I would soon die if I did not get help, so I managed 
 to get my knife out and open a small blade, with which I 
 cut one of the veins in my arm. I felt the blood running, 
 and soon after lost all sense of feeling, and felt like going 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 6i 
 
 asleep. This happened about four o'clock in the afternoon, 
 and when I woke up or came to my senses it was about seven 
 o'clock in the morning. How long I had been there I knew 
 not. I was not suffering with pain so much, but was so weak 
 that I could not stand. My head seemed quite clear, and I 
 could see a cabin and I thought some men near it at work 
 about a mile up the river. I started to crawl to them, and 
 with the greatest exertion I managed to get a little over 
 half way to them by five o'clock in the afternoon. I finally 
 attracted their attention, and they came to me and almost 
 carried me to their cabin. They were foreigners and could 
 not speak a word of English." Mr. Converce was laid up 
 from the effects of the bite for several months before he 
 could do any work. Everybody on the Gulch tried to make 
 him as comfortable as possible and helped him out. On our 
 claim we had two cabins, and we gave him one of them, 
 it being very much more comfortable than his own, and it 
 was only about ten feet from the one we occupied. 
 
 He was, in many ways, a most remarkable man, and for 
 over a year and a half I was with him more or less. Every 
 day I learned to love and respect him more than ony other 
 man I had met while on the Pacific Coast. He was the best 
 educated man I had ever known. He could read and write 
 seven different languages. He was a classmate of Senator 
 Edmunds of Vermont and his brother, D. Edmunds, of the 
 same State. After leaving college he taught school in New 
 York State, Vermont, and Ohio. His health failed, and he 
 went on a whaling voyage of three years' duration. He 
 had been a soldier in the Indian war of Florida, was a farmer 
 near Stockton, Gal. ; went to Australia in 1852, where he 
 spent two years in the mines, and then returned to California 
 and drifted to Yreka. He was a regular bookworm, always 
 
62 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 studying. I have seen him cook a meal entire with a book 
 in one hand, and then lay it down by his plate to read while 
 eating. Being of an enquiring turn of mind and much given 
 to books myself, Mr. Converce was a boon companion to 
 me, and I gained more knowledge from him than all the 
 schooling I ever had. 
 
 In 1856, when the news of John C. Fremont's nomination 
 for the Presidency reached the Coast (there was no tele- 
 graph across the continent in those days), Mr. Converce 
 espoused the cause of Republicanism and was the first man 
 on the Gulch to advocate the election of Frem.ont. He found 
 a ready convert in me, and for two or three months we were 
 the only Republicans on the Gulch out of three hundred 
 voters. We worked hard to make votes, and Converce made 
 one or two speeches that were marvels of eloquence, logic, 
 and patriotism. When the polls closed we found there were 
 forty votes for Fremont and Dayton, which we thought was 
 a good showing with only one to start with. 
 
 A few words as to my partners, with whom I lived for 
 nearly two and a half years. John Van Order, whom I first 
 met at Allhouse Creek, when mining with John S. Peck and 
 Bill Buchanan, all came from Buffalo, N. Y. Van Order 
 bought in with the rest of us on Canal Gulch. He was 
 raised in Ithaca, N. Y., and learned the trade of iron molder. 
 He worked in Buffalo at the same business. He had no 
 education whatever, and I never knew him to read or write 
 a word while I was with him. Yet he seemed to be well 
 posted, used good language, was unusually bright, and natu- 
 rally was the smartest man of the three. He was twenty- 
 seven or twenty-eight years of age when I was with him. 
 He was a very good worker and a most congenial com- 
 panion. He had a most extraordinary memory, and when 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 63 
 
 hearing an article read from a newspaper could almost repeat 
 it the next day, word for word. 
 
 Horace P. Cummings was much older, had a fair educa- 
 tion, and was somewhat comical in his ways and sayings. 
 He was a sailor for many years, and a soldier in the Mexican 
 War under Scott. He was among the men that scaled the 
 walls of Chepultepec and lived. The walls of the fortress 
 had to be taken by ladder. As fast as one of our men 
 showed his head above the wall he was shot and fell back. 
 As Cummings reached the top of the w^all the attention of 
 the Mexicans was attracted to the opposite side of the fort 
 by an assault of our men from that direction, and he reached 
 the top all right, followed by others as fast as they could 
 climb the ladder. They overpowered the enemy and the fort 
 was taken. Horace was a man of good habits, was always 
 in good health and spirits, and the life of the cabin. His 
 home was in Portland, Me. 
 
 In the winter of 'S^'S? I sold out my interest to Mr. 
 Converce and bought in a claim farther up the Gulch with 
 a man by the name of Hall, but continued to live with John 
 and Horace. The next spring they had the old claim pretty 
 well worked out, and John and Horace started for the 
 States. Cummings went to Portland, got married, and went 
 into business there. Van Order I never heard of again. 
 
 All winter I had been very much out of health, and was 
 able to work but a part of the time. Hall bought into a 
 claim on Greenhorn Creek and sold me his interest in our 
 claim. Water was getting scarce in the Gulch and we could 
 wash only a short time each day. On account of my failing 
 health I concluded to sell and go home while I was able. 
 So I prevailed upon Mr. Converce to buy me out, and I 
 got ready to leave. Mr, Converce took out three thousand 
 
64 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 dollars more and left Yreka, as I was informed by Hall, 
 about a year after. That was the last I ever heard of my 
 old companion and tutor, for whom I have ever entertained 
 the most profound respect and esteem. 
 
 The last work I did was an hour each day when the 
 water was turned ofY while the miners got their dinner. On 
 cleaning up I had fifty-six dollars in gold for the six hours' 
 work. I bade Mr. Converce goodbye and Vvcnt to town to 
 learn which was the best route to San Francisco. The 
 Indians had gone on the warpath again and robbed and 
 killed several packers, both on the Jacksonville trail to 
 Crescent City and over Scott's Mountain trail to Shasta. 
 The stage to Shasta had stopped running and there seemed 
 to be a very poor show to get away safely. The year before 
 the Indians had given us trouble, and we had all turned 
 out to repel a threatened attack, their signal fires being 
 lighted on the mountains west and north of Yreka, but the 
 trouble soon blew over. I consulted with my friend John S. 
 Beck as to the best thing to do, as I wished to get away as 
 soon as possible. We finally concluded that the route to 
 Crescent City via the Klamath River was the best and safest, 
 as there had been no Indians seen on that route ; but it was 
 a very lonely trail, with only one cabin between Scott's Bar 
 and Indian Creek, a distance of seventy miles. 
 
 To take this route I would have to have a horse or mule 
 that could make the seventy miles in a day. After looking 
 about town we found a big mule, which I bought with saddle 
 and bridle, and the next morning I set out for Scott's Bar, 
 twenty-five miles distant. Many had tried to discourage me 
 by representing the trip as very unsafe to try alone, and 
 that I had better wait ; but I was well armed and concluded 
 to go and see Mr. Crooks, the express agent at Scott's Bar, 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 65 
 
 with whom I was acquainted, and he would probably know 
 whether it was safe to make the trip. After parting with 
 Peck I made good time and reached Scott's Bar in about 
 seven hours in very good shape. I saw Crooks and spent 
 the night with him. While on the way over the mountains 
 from Yreka to Scott's Bar I rode over snow that in some of 
 the canyons was fifty feet deep, and also picked some flowers. 
 As the snow slowly melted away the sun warmed up the soil, 
 so that in a few days vegetation would spring up and flowers 
 bloom but a few feet from the snow. 
 
 The next morning I was up by daylight and ready to start 
 at sunrise. My friend Crooks gave me all the information 
 that he could, and remarked that I would have a long, lonely 
 ride. With a parting goodbye I started out in good style 
 and in good spirits. 
 
 After riding about one-half a mile my old mule got it into 
 his head that he had gone far enough and stopped, and much 
 coaxing and spurring would get him no further. I dis- 
 mounted, cut me a good whip and gave him a good lashing, 
 readjusted the saddle and mounted, gave him the whip and 
 spur, and off he went on the run. After going another half 
 mile he stopped again. Dismounting, I went through the 
 same performance, and off he went as before, but I had pro- 
 vided myself with a new whip, and concluded that I would 
 be ready for liim the next time. So when he slacked his gait 
 I whipped and spurred and made him keep it up for two or 
 three miles, then stopped him and got of¥ and petted him, 
 pulled a bunch of grass, and gave him time to eat it. Then 
 I mounted again, spoke to him kindly, and away he went 
 and troubled me no more that day. We had become better 
 acquainted. 
 
 About four miles from Scott's Bar I passed the last 
 
66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 miner's cabin. Just before noon I pulled up at Happy Camp, 
 thirty-five miles on my way, and found three men there, 
 but they had no news, and could give me no information 
 about Indians or about the trail except that there was no 
 one living between there and Indian Creek. No news was 
 good news, and after resting a while I started on. The 
 trail crossed the river a short distance from there and fol- 
 lowed the edge of the river, except now and then it ran 
 up the side of the mountains in order to pass some high 
 bluff that could not be passed near the river. 
 
 About a couple of hours after leaving Happy Camp I 
 reached the river's edge, and, coming to a bunch of alder 
 bushes at the mouth of a little gulch, I saw a little rivulet 
 trickling down the mountain side into a clear pool of water. 
 I was thirsty, and so was the mule. So dismounting, I 
 kneeled down and drank my fill of the water, which was very 
 clear and cold. Rising to my feet I happened to look 
 through the bushes and saw a man's face and head, with one 
 arm extended holding a double-barreled shotgun and slowly 
 whetting a huge bowie knife with the other hand up and 
 down the barrel of the gun. With a face covered nearly to 
 his eyes with the blackest of whiskers, an old slouched hat 
 on his head, and a pair of keen black eyes, with which he 
 gazed at me very intently, he looked to me very mucn like 
 a suspicious character. I turned my mule without taking 
 my eyes off the ugly looking face. I then drew and 
 cocked my revolver, and, slipping my hand up behind the 
 saddle, I mounted. Not a word was said, but I concluded to 
 face the music, and if he made a move toward me to get 
 the drop on him first. I started on the trail, which wound 
 around a little clump of bushes, determined to sell my life as 
 dearly as possible, but when I made the curve the whole 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 67 
 
 thing was revealed to me at once. There were two men 
 sitting on the ground taking their lunch, and the one I had 
 been watching had raised his gun so that I could pass, as 
 they were close to the trail. My scare was over in an in- 
 stant, and, taking in the whole situation, spoke to them 
 pleasantly, but they could not understand either English or 
 Spanish. I rode on, congratulating myself on the outcome 
 and that I had found out for the first time that I had the 
 courage and coolness to carry me through such an emer- 
 gency without flinching. ' 
 
 I passed some deserted ranches on the way to the mouth 
 of Indian Creek, up which the trail led toward the mountain. 
 At length the trail entirely disappeared. There had appar- 
 ently been a landslide a short time before and wiped out all 
 semblance of a trail for over one hundred feet. The mountain 
 at that spot was at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and 
 I could see the creek about six or seven hundred feet below 
 me, but not more than three hundred feet up the mountains 
 in the track of the slide, over which the footing for man or 
 beast was very insecure. I could see the end of the trail 
 on the other side, but how to reach it was the question. 
 About two feet of the old surface was gone. I urged the 
 mule down the bank, then dismounted, tied my lariat to the 
 saddle and the mule's neck, and started to cross on foot, 
 leading the mule. We both slid down the mountain pretty 
 lively, but by our exertions worked at an angle toward the 
 other side, and reached solid ground about two hundred feet 
 more below our starting point. We struck the trail again 
 and I mounted and went on, thankful that I had been for- 
 tunate enough to cross so dangerous a place with safety. 
 
 After traveling a mile or two the trail gradually came 
 nearer the creek, which was a raging, roaring mountain 
 
68 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 stream, from thirty to fifty feet wide and running very 
 swiftly. I knew this creek had to be crossed and wondered 
 how it was to be done, but there was the well-used trail, 
 and, having gained perfect confidence in my mule, con- 
 cluded I could go where others had gone without fear. 
 Just then I reached the stump of a tree, about two feet 
 through, that had been felled directly across the creek, with 
 a slight pitch toward the top. It was scored and hewed at 
 on the upper side, and lay about twenty feet above the water, 
 and had evidently been used for a bridge for pack trains. 
 The flat top of the log was about eighteen inches wide at the 
 butt, but was narrowed down to not more than six inches 
 at the other end. I stopped, looked the situation over, and 
 concluded to ride the mule over if he would go. The water 
 was so swift under the log that I hardly think I could have 
 walked it without losing my balance. Seeing no other course 
 to pursue, and as it was almost night, I mounted the mule, 
 gave him a slack rein, and started. The mule jumped upon 
 the log, put his nose down close to it, and walked over as 
 easily as a dog. Soon after I struck a well-traveled trail, 
 and in half an hour was at the hotel at Indian Creek, seventy 
 miles from the place of starting in the morning. 
 
 This was quite a lively mining camp, just a half day's ride 
 from Crescent City. In the morning I found a man who 
 was going to Crescent City on horseback, and we set out 
 together for our destination. The trail led us through the 
 redwood bottoms of Smith's River, a large forest of the 
 Sequoi Gigantia, which was of great interest to us. Stand- 
 ing in the midst of this forest, where the trees were so close 
 together that their tops completely shut out the sun, the 
 daylight at midday has the appearance of a soft, hazy moon- 
 light, or the light of day during an eclipse of the sun. 
 
LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 69 
 
 There was not a branch or Hmb for a hundred feet up the 
 trunks of any of the trees, large or small, but the view 
 does not extend more than three hundred feet in any direc- 
 tion. The huge bodies of the trees, all so straight and close 
 together, form a vast enclosing wall, towering toward the 
 sky, affording an awe-inspiring sight of nature's handi- 
 work that made me feel like a mere pigmy amid these levi- 
 athans, as it were, of the forest. My mule, even, looked not 
 more than half his normal size, and my companion had 
 apparently shrunken to the size of a half-grown boy. These 
 trees were from one hundred and twenty-five feet to two 
 hundred and fifty feet high, some of them even more. The 
 soil beneath was of the blackest hue, and my mule came 
 near being mired in many places. 
 
 After gazing awhile in mute astonishment and contempla- 
 tion at the wonders and weird beauties of the scene, we 
 moved on, but stopped to measure an average specimen of 
 these trees, which was seventy-eight feet in circumference 
 eight feet from the ground. 
 
 After emerging from this remarkable forest in the low 
 lands nearer the mouth of the river, we came to a vast field 
 of ferns, or brakes, as they are sometimes called. These 
 were so thick that a man could not, without difficulty, get 
 through them. They were from six to ten feet high, and at 
 the base as large around as your arm. I had heard it said 
 that near San Jose they are so large that the children climb 
 them and play on the branches, but these were the first I 
 had seen. After leaving this fern forest we soon arrived at 
 Crescent City, where I had landed a little over three years 
 before. 
 
 I put my mule in a livery stable and informed the propri- 
 etor he was for sale, then went to a hotel and put up for 
 
70 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 three days, when the steamer for San Francisco would be 
 due. By a little inquiry I learned the price of mules, and 
 the next morning went out to the stable to see about selling 
 mine. The proprietor said he would like to see how he 
 moved, so I brought him out and saddled up. I mounted 
 him and started off, but had not gone twenty paces before 
 the mule stopped, turned about and started for the barn. 
 Do whatever I could, he would not go. A small crowd soon 
 assembled and began to give me advice in such ribald phrases 
 as, "Build a fire under him," "Put sand in his ear," etc. 
 Not hankering after too much publicity, I closed the circus 
 by putting the mule back in the barn, and told the pro- 
 prietor I would see him later. The next morning I went to 
 the stable again and related to him the full history of the 
 mule, my trip on him from Yreka, and asked him what 
 he would give me for him. "Well," he says, after much 
 talk, "I'll take him if you'll throw off twenty-five dollars 
 from your price." "Give me the money ; he's yours," I said. 
 The price was twenty-five dollars more than he cost me, so 
 I went back to the hotel well satisfied and ready to proceed 
 on my journey. 
 
 The steamer came in due time and I was soon on my way 
 to San Francisco, where I arrived June lo, 1857, in very 
 poor health. I went to a doctor on Montgomery Street, 
 who charged me a hundred dollars for his services. He 
 gave me a prescription that cost me fifty dollars more. It 
 was to last me till I got to New York. After I got home 
 I had the same prescription filled for fifty cents. That was 
 the difference between New York and California in the 
 prices of drugs and medical service at that time. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOME AGAIN". 
 
 On the 20th of June, 1857, I sailed for Panama on board 
 the steamer Golden Age. She was a fine vessel and had 
 recently been put on the line. I had been on board but a 
 short time when I met Tom Bantz from Yreka, who was 
 all alone, and we became companions for the voyage at 
 once. Tom was a most congenial companion, full of wit, 
 and always jolly. He was known at Yreka as one of the big- 
 gest devils in town, but was well liked and had a great many 
 friends. He had been constable for three or four years, and 
 in those times that officer received a fat salary. 
 
 My health began to improve before we had been to sea 
 two days and continued to improve slowly every day. About 
 the second day out to sea I happened to make the acquaint- 
 ance of a man by the name of Bob Matteson, a deputy 
 sheriff of Sacramento up to the time he left. We were look- 
 ing at a huge shark that the sailors were trying to catch, and 
 incidentally got into conversation and kept it up for three 
 hours or more. So well pleased were we with each other 
 that we soon felt like old acquaintances and were almost con- 
 stantly together during the rest of the voyage. I soon made 
 Bob acquainted with Tom Bantz, and the three of us flocked 
 together most of the time. We stopped a short time at the 
 port of Acupulco and went from there to Manzanillo, 
 
 71 
 
y2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Mexico, for coal. Here we remained for fourteen hours or 
 more, and the passengers were allowed to go ashore. Many 
 took advantage of this privilege, but I did not feel able to 
 go. Bob and Tom were among those who went ashore, and 
 they came back with a large supply of oranges, limes, and 
 pineapples, etc. Tom was loaded also with Mexican 
 *'booze," as he called it, but not exactly drunk. His tongue 
 was very loose, and when he got aboard he mounted the 
 capstan and delivered one of the most witty and droll stump 
 speeches imaginable, enlarging upon the sights of the town 
 and its inhabitants and the Mexican population in general. 
 The whole speech was so witty, and withal so gentlemanly 
 and good-natured, that it created rounds of applause, and 
 he soon had all the passengers aboard listening to him. He 
 wound up with a very flattering tribute to the ladies on 
 board. During the rest of the voyage Tom was the lion of 
 the ship and was in demand for his stories and drollery at 
 all times. Everybody knew Tom by the time we reached 
 New York. 
 
 Our voyage down the coast was a very pleasant one, and 
 by the time we reached Panama my health was very good. 
 We arrived the morning of the Fourth of July, 1857, and 
 took the cars immediately for Aspinwall. The now his- 
 toric ship, 'The Star of the West," the first ship fired on 
 by the rebels in the Civil War, was at the dock when we 
 arrived, though she was not to sail till night. All the pas- 
 sengers were to remain on shore until an hour before sail- 
 ing, except the sick, which were very few. 
 
 It being our Independence Day, the sailors and marines 
 from a couple of our war vessels were allowed to come 
 ashore with the passengers. In the town were a lot of 
 Jamaica negroes who had been working on the railroad, 
 
HOME AGAIN 73 
 
 and more than a usual number of natives, and there were 
 pretty lively times. Some of our sailors got into trouble 
 with the natives and Jamaica negroes that ended in a fight, 
 but was partially quelled by orders for every sailor and 
 marine to report on board ship at once. But there was bad 
 blcod between the Jamaicans and the natives and the fight 
 was kept up. A few firearms were used, but coal, bottles, 
 and stones were the weapons generally in use. There were 
 about one hundred Jamaica negroes engaged and twice as 
 many natives, all within the space of three or four hundred 
 feet along the beach in front of the main street of the town. 
 The sidewalk and buildings were covered and held by the 
 steamer passengers, all armed with six-shooters. 
 
 At one time the natives threatened to attack the American 
 passengers because they cheered the negroes when they 
 seemed to have the best of it, but somehow they changed their 
 minds when we all drew our guns and told them to pitch in. 
 Word was sent from the war vessels that if a single Ameri- 
 can was molested they would open their guns on the town. 
 They threatened us no more, but the fight went on between 
 the negroes and the natives until three were killed and about 
 fifty wounded, then it slackened, and soon all was quiet 
 again. It was the greatest fight I had ever seen, and one 
 in which I cared not who whipped. 
 
 There was to be a first and second gun fired to notify the 
 passengers to come aboard. At the end of the fight Bob 
 and I went into a billiard hall for a game and did not hear 
 the first gun. When the last gun was fired we thought that 
 it was the first until the proprietor, who was an Ameri- 
 can, warned us. We ran as fast as our legs could 
 carry us, and just reached the plank as they were hauling 
 it aboard. A quarter of a minute more and we would have 
 
74 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 been left. Tom was the first to greet us and congratulated 
 us on our racing qualities. 
 
 Our accommodations on board The Star of the West were 
 not so good as on the Golden Age, as it was more crowded. 
 On the third night out from Aspinwall, as Bob and I were 
 sitting on the wheel house aft, at about twelve o'clock at 
 night, a thick smoke came up, seemingly from the fire-room. 
 We went forward and found about a dozen passengers on 
 deck all collected about the entrance of the fire-room. The 
 smoke was pouring out in a dense mass. That there was 
 a fire in the hold no one doubted, but not a man said a word 
 or made an alarm. The first mate drew his revolver and 
 swore that he would shoot the first man that shouted **Fire 1" 
 Just then one of the firemen came up and, on reaching the 
 deck, fell unconscious. As soon as he could speak he told 
 the mate that the coal bunkers were on fire. Other firemen 
 came up and dropped on deck from exhaustion. The mate 
 and the crew got the pumps at work as soon as possible 
 and sent fresh men down to play on the fire with the hose, 
 but it was more than two hours before one of the officers 
 came up and reported the fire out. We were one hundred 
 and fifty miles from land, with a strong chop sea running 
 and not boats or life preservers enough to accommodate 
 half the number of people aboard. Had anyone cried 
 "Fire!" when the ship was enveloped in smoke and the 
 passengers been aroused, there is but little doubt that there 
 would have been a terrible loss of life. The mate was wise 
 in his actions, and none of the passengers, except those who 
 were up at the time, knew anything of the affair until the 
 next morning. It was a very narrow escape. After it was 
 all over Bob and I turned in, but not to sleep, for as soon 
 as I got into a doze dreams of fire wo^ld arouse me, and J 
 
HOME AGAIN 75 
 
 could not banish it from my mind. Nothing of importance 
 occurred during the rest of the voyage to New York, where 
 we arrived on the night of July 12, 1857. 
 
 We made the trip from San Francisco to New York in 
 twenty-two days and fourteen hours — in those days a very 
 quick passage. Tom Bantz, Bob, and I put up at French's 
 Hotel. The next day we shook hands with Tom and he left 
 for his home in Indiana. Bob and I roomed together. The 
 next day, being in need of clothing, we repaired to a Fulton 
 Street clothing house, where we each purchased a suit from 
 different clerks without the other knowing the selection 
 made. When we opened our goods at the hotel we found 
 the two suits exactly alike. We donned our new garments 
 and strolled up Broadway. For the sake of a little amuse- 
 ment we stopped at the office of Fowler, the phrenologist, 
 to have our heads examined. The operator first examined 
 mine, then Bob's. Feeling Bob's bumps awhile, he said, 
 "Brothers, I presume?" *'No relation," says Bob. "Strange," 
 says the examiner, "your heads are very much alike." "Never 
 saw each other until about three weeks ago," said Bob, all 
 of which I corroborated. When he got through with us, he 
 said, "Gentlemen, I have never seen two heads so nearly 
 alike before, and I would like to know your names and 
 addresses." When we examined our charts at our room 
 we found, to our surprise, but three points that varied, and 
 these only slightly. "Well," said I, "that accounts for our 
 taste regarding clothing and also our attachment for each 
 other ever since we met on board the Golden Age." From 
 that time I have been a firm believer in phrenology. 
 
 Bob and I had some gold dust that we wished to exchange 
 for currency, and on taking it to the assay office in New 
 York found we had to wait a few days to get our cash. A 
 
^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 rather unusual affair occurred the next morning. Bob and 
 I were sitting in the reading room, looking over the morn- 
 ing papers, when a well-dressed man about thirty years of 
 age, stepped up to us and said, "Gentlemen, please excuse 
 me, but from some conversation I overheard between you 
 I presumed that you, like myself, are strangers in the city. 
 I take the liberty to introduce myself. I am a minister of 
 the Gospel and am the pastor of a church in Newburyport, 
 Mass., on a vacation for a couple of months. Here is my 
 card," handing us each one. "Now, if there are any ques- 
 tions you wish to ask me I will be happy to answer them 
 if you will step into the barroom and have a drink with 
 me." "Oh, we are not dry," says Bob; "at least I am not. 
 My comrade can speak for himself." "But, gentlemen, I 
 would be happy to have you join me." "If it is going to 
 make a man happy," I said to Bob, "let us take a drink 
 with him." "Well," said Bob, "Pm not in the habit of 
 drinking with strangers, especially with ministers, and I am 
 most too old to form new habits. Plowever, if our friend is 
 unhappy, and our drinking will make him less so, I don't 
 know that I should object." So we had a drink with the 
 reverend gentlemen, whose name I have forgotten. 
 
 We returned to the reading room, and he gave us a com- 
 plete history of himself and his church, congregation, the 
 girls, the good times he had had, and, in fact, confessed 
 himself to be the greatest sinner of the whole flock. His 
 appetite for whiskey was immense, and it required a large 
 amount to slake his thirst. We went up the street to a 
 billiard parlor, where Bob and I had a friendly game, while 
 our ministerial friend was filling up with his favorite bev- 
 erage. It was not long before we were obliged to take him 
 back to the hotel and put him to bed, About dusk he was 
 
HOME AGAIN ^J 
 
 up and looking for us. He was nearly sober, and insisted 
 that we go to the theater with him. We finally consented, if 
 he would agree not to drink anything. He said he would 
 compromise on one drink before we started. He had his 
 drink, and we went to a German opera on the Bowery. Our 
 reverend friend amused himself by throwing bouquets to a 
 very ordinary looking girl to whom he had taken a fancy. 
 We brought up at the hotel all right about midnight. The 
 next morning our friend was anxious to carry out the same 
 performance of the day previous. So Bob and I concluded 
 it best to have him get drunk as soon as possible, so that we 
 could put him to bed out of the way. It did not take long. 
 This was an every-day occurrence until Bob was ready to 
 leave for home. The minister said he was going to Geneva, 
 where he would stop off to visit some friends who lived 
 fifteen or twenty miles south of that place. Bob told him 
 he would go with him if he would abstain from drink on 
 the way. This he agreed to do if he was allowed to take a 
 parting drink with me. After this ceremony they started off. 
 A letter from Bob a couple of weeks afterward gave me 
 the history of their trip about as follows : In some way the 
 reverend had smuggled a bottle of whisky aboard the train, 
 but did not drink much, and coaxed Bob to make the visit 
 to his friends and relatives with him. At Geneva the min- 
 ister hired a livery team, to be returned the next Monday, 
 that day being Saturday, and their visit was to be over 
 Sunday. "After we left Geneva," Bob wrote, "the minister 
 turned to me and said, 'Bob, I want you to represent an old 
 classmate of mine at college, and I shall introduce you as 
 such. This uncle and aunt I am going to see are very pious 
 people and strict church members. They have a very fine- 
 looking daughter, my cousin, to whom I wish you to pay 
 
^^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the most of your attention while there, but I want you to 
 swear that you will not say one word about your knowledge 
 of me except as a classmate in our college days, and that 
 you had accidentally met me on your return from California 
 at New York. Leave all the rest to me. I shall probably 
 have to preach there to-morrow and shall have to appear 
 very devoted to my calling. Will you swear that you will 
 not, by word or look, give me away ?' *I swear,' said I, and, 
 being a lover of fun, the situation was getting to be very 
 interesting to me. Not a drop had the reverend taken the 
 day of our arrival, and as we had been shaved and neatly 
 groomed before our start from Geneva we were a very good 
 looking pair of ducks. The reverend was a very fine looking 
 man and a genial companion on the trip. Before reaching 
 our destination he had coached me very thoroughly in the 
 part I was to play in the conspiracy, and I felt confident 
 I could carry it through successfully. On our arrival at 
 his uncle's they were all delighted to see us, and gave the 
 minister a very warm welcome. They were well-to-do farm- 
 ers, lived in good style, and we fared sumptuously. At the 
 tea table the reverend asked the blessing, and the conversa- 
 tion was mostly on church matters. The next morning we 
 all went to church a couple of miles away, the daughter and 
 I going in a single buggy. She was a charming companion, 
 and I took a decided liking to her. 
 
 ''Our friend occupied a seat in the pulpit with the regular 
 minister, while I sat in the family pew. I avoided, however, 
 the eye of my companion from New York. He was intro- 
 duced to the congregation as the eloquent divine from New- 
 buryport, Mass., who would deliver the sermon that morn- 
 ing. A better or more eloquent religious discourse I never 
 heard. The congregation crowded about him after the ser- 
 
HOME AGAIN 79 
 
 vice, and implored him to preach in the afternoon. All 
 seemed eager to grasp his hand and thank him most kindly 
 for his effort. He finally agreed to give them a short dis- 
 course in the evening, and we drove back to his uncle's. At 
 the evening meal the old uncle asked me to say grace, which 
 I declined, looking into the eye of my friend for the first 
 time that day. He very adroitly took my place, asked the 
 blessing, and relieved me of my embarrassment with a sly 
 remark that I was a little bashful yet. His evening sermon 
 was a splendid one. A fine collection was taken up for him 
 and a vote of thanks given him for presenting his religious 
 convictions in such a masterly manner. 
 
 'The next morning we took our departure for Geneva. 
 We had not gone far when he turned to me and said, 'Bob, 
 I'm awful dry; ain't you? These people gave me enough 
 money to keep us in whisky and pay all expenses for a week ; 
 and do you know, Bob, you conducted yourself in a manner 
 most satisfactory to me, and I thank you for it. But that 
 was a terrible look you gave me when the old rooster asked 
 you to say grace. Don't you think that my little cousin 
 is a daisy ? But, my God ! how dry I am.' And so he rattled 
 on until we got to Geneva. 'Bob,' he says, 'I've concluded 
 to go as far as Buffalo with vou,' and I could not persuade 
 him otherwise. We had an hour or so to wait for the train, 
 and before the train came alon^f the reverend was half 
 drunk, and before we got to Buffalo was as drunk as a lord. 
 I found I could not go on until after midnight, so we went 
 to the theater and on our way back he got us in a row, but 
 I managed to get him back to the hotel ; but before I could 
 get him to his room he was dead drunk. The hotel clerk 
 and I left him in bed with his boots on, and that was the 
 last I have seen or heard of our reverend friend from Mass- 
 
8o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 achusetts." In a few months Bob returned to California 
 and I never heard from him again. 
 
 I stayed in New York for a few days and then took the 
 train, on the Erie Railroad, for Binghamton and thence to 
 Greene, where I found an acquaintance who was a neighbor 
 of my father, and he kindly gave me a ride home. 
 
 Home again ! What peace and comfort in those words 
 after one has been a wanderer o'er the face of the earth ! 
 I knew almost everybody in the neighborhood, for I had 
 lived there from the age of ten to fourteen, and everybody 
 that I met wanted to hear about California, as but few had 
 returned from there at that time. As I had been nearly five 
 years there, they thought I must know all about it. I had 
 not fully rocovered my health, but I was getting well pretty 
 fast, and the rest and recreation with old friends soon re- 
 stored me to my normal condition. 
 
 It was now July, 1857, and I had promised myself a rest 
 till the next spring. It was indeed a great treat to have the 
 privilege of mingling again with the boys and girls after 
 being separated from them and their society for nearly five 
 years. 
 
 After a brief stay In Smithvllle and surrounding towns I 
 went to Tavlor, Cortland County, my residence when I left 
 for California, and made my home with an old neighbor 
 and his son, Levi Mallory and L. D. Mallory. The son had 
 been my schoolmate and chum since I was ten years of age, 
 and I had corresponded with him during my stay in Cali- 
 fornia. As a returned Californian I was the lion of the 
 neighborhood for the time being, and was supposed to have 
 plenty of gold, A little bag containing a few ounces of 
 real gold I had mined, a few twenty-dollar gold pieces, and 
 a heavy gold watch and chain that I wore led the innocent 
 
HOME AGAIN 8i 
 
 natives to believe that I had unHmited vi^ealth. One old 
 acquaintance came to me and asked for a loan of a couple 
 of thousand dollars to clear off a mortgage on his farm, 
 "for/' said he, "I hear that you came back rich and could 
 just as well let me have it as not." Others wanted to borrow 
 from one to five hundred dollars or more. Others wanted 
 me to enter into various schemes that needed just a little 
 more money to insure success. Still, I never enjoyed myself 
 more than with my old friends and neighbors at that time. 
 
 After visiting my favorite girl of former years, living a 
 few miles away, I spent several weeks with my rela- 
 tives in Connecticut, and then returned to Taylor, N. Y., 
 to make my home with my old friend Alallory. Con- 
 cluding that I had not education enough, I made arrange- 
 ments to attend the same school at Truxton, N. Y., that I 
 had attended the winter before I went to California. I 
 had made up my mind to take a college course, and the 
 principal, Mr. Lyman Pierce, told me he could fit me for 
 entrance. My intention was to study surgery and engineer- 
 ing, and adopt the one I liked best for a profession. 
 
 The school term was three months, commencing Decem- 
 ber I, 1857. I was promptly on hand, and found as class- 
 mates about forty young women, between the ages of six- 
 teen and twenty-two years, and about fifteen or twenty 
 young men. It was a sort of training school for teachers. 
 The principal was an old teacher and an ex-county superin- 
 tendent of schools, a most genial and noble man. I was 
 the only one of the students that boarded with him, and 
 was counted as one of the family, which consisted of himself 
 and wife, two daughters and a son, all grown up except the 
 youngest girl, twelve or thirteen years old. Serene Pierce, 
 his eldest daughter, was a beautiful girl of eighteen or 
 
82 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 nineteen years of age, and a model in every way. The son 
 and daughters all attended school. 
 
 The sleeping accommodations were somewhat limited, and 
 I had to occupy a room with three other students, who, by 
 the way, did not trouble me much, as they were very seldom 
 in the room except at bedtime. In the room were two beds, 
 a stove, a table, and two chairs. Johnny Dodd was my 
 sleeping mate, a good sort of boy, about twenty years of 
 age, and a fair musician on the violin, but he was deeply 
 in love, and spent most of his evenings with his girl. The 
 other roommates were farmers' boys, nineteen or twenty 
 years old, great big six-footers, and would weigh on an 
 average about one hundred and seventy pounds. One of 
 them, James Brooks, was very much in love with Mr. 
 Pierce's eldest daughter, and spent the most of his evenings 
 in her company. The other student, whose name I cannot 
 recall, was very pious, and was singing sacred music every 
 evening with his two sisters, who occupied a room in the 
 same house. Brooks also was a devoted Christian, and spent 
 considerable time with them. Consequently I was left alone 
 most of the time in my room, pursuing my studies, and 
 seldom went to bed before two o'clock in the morning, long 
 after the others were sound asleep. 
 
 There were about fifteen of the young ladies rooming in 
 and about the building. The schoolroom was built at the 
 rear of the principal's residence, and he allowed us to move 
 out the chairs and desks for evening dances, but they must 
 stop promptly at ten o'clock. Dancing parties were of fre- 
 quent occurrence, and they afforded me pleasant exercise 
 and recreation. Johnny Dodd furnished the music. After 
 the dance was over I repaired to my room and could study 
 much better for the exercise. 
 
HOME AGAIN 83 
 
 One night the two six-foot mates came in and went to bed, 
 and in a few moments were snoring loudly and annoyed me 
 considerably. This was not the first time that it had hap- 
 pened, so I concluded to take some means to stop it or have 
 some fun out of it. Johnny Dodd had not returned from 
 seeing his girl home, but soon came in, and I asked him to 
 be quiet and procure me a cord if he could. Fortunately 
 he had one in his valise. Generally these six-footers had 
 their toes sticking out at the foot of the bed. Their bed- 
 stead was of the old-fashioned kind, with a roller at the foot 
 of the bed, and their toes could be seen just above that. 
 We carefully got their big toes together, and securely tied 
 them to each other and to the bed roller. We then quickly 
 undressed, got into bed, and, feigning sleep, awaited results. 
 By throwing a slipper against the wall beyond them the 
 fellow next the wall was partially awakened, and turned 
 over. In doing so he pulled the toe of the other fellow, who 
 cried out in pain, and then the row began. Each accused 
 the other of tying his toe to the bed roller, but were not yet 
 aware that they were tied together. Both became very angry 
 and abused each other fiercely. Their loud talking finally 
 aroused the whole house. Johnny and I were demanding to 
 know what the row was about, and why we were awakened 
 in the dead of night by such a performance. So securely had 
 we fastened them, and thoughtfully removed their cloth- 
 ing, to prevent their getting a knife to cut the cords, that 
 they finally begged us to get up and strike a light, so that 
 they could get loose. After enjoying the fun for some time, 
 Dodd got up and cut the cord and ended the disturbance. 
 
 Balls, parties, suppers, and the many congenial school- 
 mates made the winter there the most enjoyable of my life, 
 and memories of it still linger with me. 
 
S4 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Every two or three weeks I visited my friends, Peter 
 Rorapaugh and his noble wife, and spent Sunday. They 
 lived only a couple of miles from Truxton, where our school 
 was located. Better or more congenial friends and com- 
 panions I never knew, and their house was the resort of 
 many fun-loving young people. The very atmosphere of 
 that home seemed charged with joviality, for P. Rorapaugh 
 was the most comical, odd, and mirth-provoking individual 
 in the community, if not in the whole region. No wonder 
 that all the wits and wags of the best society made it a point 
 to meet at Peter's, as he was familiarly called. Some years 
 after his wife died and Peter was never himself again. Man 
 and wife never lived more happily together than they. I 
 met him only a few years ago, but he had none of the old- 
 time fire and life, and he seemed sad and sorrowful, still 
 mourning the loss of his wife. 
 
 The winter passed too soon. During the winter my step- 
 mother's eldest son returned from. Kansas, where he had 
 been for a year or more, and was very enthusiastic over the 
 probabilities and possibilities of that country. He urged 
 me to agree to return with him in the spring, when he would 
 help me to mial<:e a start there and v/e could make money 
 fast. He said there was plenty of land that could be taken 
 up in the best part of the country, and great opportunities 
 in other ways awaited young men who would settle there. 
 
 Mr. Pierce said that he could fit me for college by con- 
 tinuing with him for another term of three months, and that 
 was the course that I had mapped out for myself; but the 
 influences seeming to be all the other way, I finally yielded 
 and began my preparations to go to Kansas. I had had nine 
 months of uninterrupted enjoyment and pleasure, and so 
 decided to go back to business again in a new field, v/hich 
 
HOME AGAIN 85 
 
 I now believe to be one of the greatest mistakes of my life. 
 After the school term closed I made a trip to see my best 
 girl and bid her good-bye, which was one of the hardest 
 things to do of all. We were not engaged to be married, 
 but it was a foregone conclusion with both of us that we 
 would be. It was the saddest parting that I had ever experi- 
 enced, and I never saw her again. I should have married 
 her, but I thought I did not have money enough to take care 
 of a wife, and until then I told her that I could not think of 
 marrying. To part thus was a sad ending to our long years 
 of devotion. Hope for the future was all that was left me. 
 
 After a visit and farewell to my friends, A. B. Smith and 
 myself started for Kansas on the morning of April 2, 1858, 
 via Buffalo, Cleveland and St. Louis. I had never been in 
 the Western States, and it v/as a very interesting trip to 
 me, especially across the State of Ohio and the broad prairies 
 of Indiana and Illinois. 
 
 We arrived at St. Louis on April i6th, and attended the 
 funeral of Thomas H, Benton and saw John C. Fremont and 
 his wife at the funeral. We engaged passage on the steamer 
 Sovereign for Kansas City, to sail the next day. I had 
 brought about two hundred and fifty pounds of maple sugar 
 with me, and sold it readily in St. Louis for twenty cents a 
 pound. We left St. Louis on the i6th of April and were 
 four days going up the Missouri to Kansas City. At that 
 time the place v;as very small, and no business there except 
 along the bank of the river. One hotel, one liquor store, a 
 theatre and a few small shops of tinners, stove-makers and 
 blacksmiths comprised all there was on the hill above the 
 bank of the river, though a brick building or two had been 
 put up about halfway to Westport. The nearest railroads 
 were Jefferson City and St. Joseph, Mo, Wyandotte, Kan., 
 
B6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE | 
 
 just above the mouth of the Kansas River, was seemingly 
 the largset place of the two. 
 
 The next day after our arrival we took passage on the 
 stage for Ossawatomie, about fifty miles south, in Linn 
 County, Kansas, where old John Brown had his headquar- 
 ters. The first town we came to was Paola, county seat of 
 Lykins County, Kansas. Our route had been over a rolling 
 prairie, with scarcely any timber, and very few inhabi- 
 tants, which did not indicate a very cheerful outlook. All 
 the little streams were high, and the roads very muddy, and 
 no one can realize what that means in Kansas except those 
 who have been there at such a time. Soon after leaving 
 Paola we came to Bull Creek, and in fording it came near 
 tipping over, and only saved ourselves by the greatest exer- 
 tions. Our route was now through timber, mostly in the 
 bottoms of the Marie des Cygnes River, which we reached 
 just before night, but could not cross, as the boats had been 
 carried away by the flood and not yet replaced. 
 
 Ossawatomie was but a short distance from us, but we 
 had to lie on wet ground, with only small horse-blankets to 
 keep us warm. The stage was of no use for a resting-place, 
 as it was only a small, two-seated, open wagon. To make 
 a bad matter worse, a fine, drizzling rain set in at dark, 
 which served to make us more miserable. We both caught 
 cold that night. The next morning we were carried across 
 the river, and walked to town the rest of the way. We got 
 a fair breakfast, and left town for the ferry on the Potta- 
 wotomie, and wended our way on foot to Twin Springs, ten 
 miles away, southeast over a rolling prairie of good land. 
 We stopped at the house of one Tom Arnold, but the accom- 
 modations were worse than any miners' camp I ever saw; 
 but I was used to roughing it in former days, and I didn't 
 
HOME AGAIN 87 
 
 mind It much. The day after our arrival there I was taken 
 with the mumps, and was in a bad condition in a short time. 
 I was very sick, but I began to improve after a few days 
 of terrible'suffering, and slowly recovered, but it was a long 
 while before I was well again. As soon as I was able we 
 changed our abode and went to live with a family by the 
 name of Grubb, where we had better accommodations. Then 
 we commenced a building for a store, with the intention of 
 opening business as soon as possible. In the neighborhood 
 of Twin Springs about every other quarter section of land 
 was occupied, and for some miles around us the land was 
 pretty well settled, and the prospect for an opening of this 
 kind was very flattering. 
 
 About this time the jayhawkers were making raids into 
 Missouri and running off their niggers, under the leadership 
 of Montgomery, John Brown, Dr. Dennison and others. 
 Montgomery lived twenty or thirty miles southwest of us, 
 and the IMissourians in retaliating sometimes struck our 
 neighborhood, and our people were very much frightened. 
 Many people wished to get away and were anxious to sell 
 out. A man bv the name of Preston, who had a claim of 
 one hundred and sixty acres, forty acres fenced and the 
 corn on it knee high, a fair house for that country, a pig, 
 about two hundred bushels of corn in crib, a stove, etc., be- 
 came so frightened that he decided to leave. One night he 
 loaded up the most of his traps and was off at daylight the 
 next morning. Thinking I might be able to purchase the 
 whole outfit, I followed him, and, after a good deal of bicker- 
 ino- bought the place for one hundred and sixty dollars, got 
 alfthe papers signed and delivered before two o'clock p.m., 
 and got back at night and took possession. This gave us a 
 home and a place to start business, SO we turned over the 
 
88 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 frame of the building we had put up to the town for a 
 schoolhouse. We soon had the new place fitted up for a 
 store. The postmaster resigned, and recommended me for 
 the position, and in a few months I received the appointment 
 and moved the post-office to our store. The mail route from 
 Ossawatomie to Fort vScott was about six miles west of us, 
 and a boy brought our mail to us once a week. After some 
 considerable trouble I got the route changed via Twin 
 Springs, and we had a mail once a day to Fort Scott. We 
 got in a stock of goods and commenced to do business. My 
 health was not good, but I managed to keep about and at- 
 tend to business, while Smith, my partner, vv^as working out- 
 side putting in and attending to about two hundred acres 
 of corn on shares. 
 
 In the meantime the trouble between the jayhawkers and 
 Missourians continued unabated, and for our own protec- 
 tion we organized a company of home guards, who mus- 
 tered and drilled at our place every Saturday afternoon. 
 This Kansas border trouble was really the beginning of the 
 Civil War. About once in every two months we were called 
 upon to vote on the adoption of a constitution, formed by 
 different conventions under the following names : The Law- 
 rence Constitution, the Wyandotte Constitution, the Leaven- 
 w^orth Constitution, the Atchison Constitution, the Lecomp- 
 ton Constitution, and the Topeka Constitution. 
 
 During that summer I took up one hundred and sixty 
 acres of land, and had bought from the government eighty 
 acres more, all in the vicinity of Twin Springs. In a few 
 months a good claim near there became vacant, and I aban- 
 doned the first one hundred and sixty acres and took up the 
 Mound claim, as it was called, of which I will speak later. 
 In August of 1858, fever and ague, aa well as malarial 
 
HOME AGAIN 89 
 
 fevers, began to be very prevalent, and from that time till 
 October or November there were hardly enough well people 
 to take care of the sick. I did not escape, and was down 
 for some time after the disease attacked me. I slowly re- 
 cuperated, but the chills and fever stuck to me all the next 
 winter; in fact, I never was free of them until I left the 
 country. 
 
 As soon as I was able to travel I went to Kansas City to 
 buy goods, and kept the business going. We did a good 
 business with the Indians after they had received their pay 
 from the government. Our crops were good, and we had 
 done fairly well, but the outlook was gloomy, and I v/as get- 
 ting heartily sick of frontier life. We lay on our arms 
 every night, not knowing when we would be called out to 
 defend ourselves against the Missourians or jayhawkers, as 
 we were in neutral territory and both sides looked upon us 
 with suspicion. Early in the fall I was waited upon by a 
 committee and tendered the nomiination for member of the 
 Legislature. A nomination was equivalent to an election, as 
 it was all one way in our district ; but I was in poor health, 
 and so sick of the countrv that I declined the honor. 
 
 In the following spring Pike's Peak gold diggings were 
 all the rage, and everybody that could leave started out for 
 that place. I had had enough of gold diggings in California 
 and was immune from that kind of fever; but my partner 
 caught the craze, so we sold our store and claim to a man 
 from Arkansas for six hundred dollars cash and divided 
 up. Smith started for Pike's Peak with a company of five 
 or six men from our neighborhood, and I took up my abode 
 with a man and his family by the name of Elliott, whose land 
 adjoined the Mound claim I had previously taken up. 
 
 My health was so poor that I w^s not able to do much of 
 
90 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^ 
 
 anything, and I concluded to take a trip to Illinois and visit 
 my aunt Harriet, who married a man by the name of Elisha 
 B. Howe. They lived near Marengo, McHenry County, 
 111. Mr. Howe was a widower who had three or four 
 grown-up boys and one girl when they were married. My 
 aunt had one son, who was fourteen or fifteen years of age 
 at that time. Two of the boys and the girl (Jennie by 
 name) were at home at this time. All gave me a warm wel- 
 come, and under my aunt's care my health improved, and I 
 was able to do some work on the farm with the other boys. 
 Jennie was a charming companion, and always ready for 
 a ride or a dance, and the summer passed very pleasantly. 
 
 I now thought I could stand Kansas again, and, as my 
 business interests there needed attention, I returned to that 
 State the last of September, 1859, and found conditions 
 worse than ever. It had been a dry season, and but little 
 immigration, and, to make matters worse, chills and fever 
 soon took hold of me again. My claim had been jumped by 
 three Irishmen, who were determined to hold it, and we had 
 to go before the registrar and receiver at the land office at 
 Topeka with witnesses, seventy miles away. I was obliged 
 to pay the expenses of my witnesses there and back, but the 
 matter could not be settled for months, as the case had to 
 go to Washington after the officers at Topeka had rendered 
 their decision. 
 
 Disgusted with Kansas, and health still poor, I concluded 
 to go back to New York State. I placed all my business in 
 the hands of a bright young friend of mine, Nicolas Beuter, 
 to whom I gave power of attorney. He was permanently 
 located there, and in 1861 raised a regiment of Unionists 
 and went out as its colonel, but was killed in the first en- 
 gagement with the rebels. He was a noble fellow, honest 
 
HOME AGAIN 91 
 
 and brave, a perfect type of true American manhood. Had 
 he lived he would no doubt have made a name and fame in 
 the war. ' 
 
 After making my arrangements with Beuter, and bidding 
 my friends farewell, I took the stage for Kansas City, and 
 stopped for a day or two to see my German friend whom 
 I formerly knew in Yreka, Cal. While at the hotel I be- 
 came acquainted with a washing-machine man, who was 
 selling county rights, and he urged me to try the business. 
 I finally made a contract with him to go to Wyandotte and 
 Leavenworth and work for ten days, and if I was satisfied 
 with the results I was to buy several county rights, but if 
 not I would divide the profits, if any. He gave me a sample 
 machine and a lot of printed matter and told me to go 
 ahead. It chanced to be Monday morning when, with my 
 apparatus, I made my first appearance in Wyandotte. A 
 widow woman kept the hotel where I stopped, and I started 
 in at once to show her how to work the machine and what a 
 labor-saver it was. Whether she gave me an order to get 
 rid of me or not I don't know, but I got one. I then can- 
 vassed the town and sold two more. The price, if I remem- 
 ber rightly, was five dollars. I sent the orders over to my 
 employer in Kansas City, and took the stage for Leaven- 
 worth. 
 
 The next morning after my arrival I started an experi- 
 mental laundry on the porch of the hotel by washing out a 
 lot of dirty handkerchiefs, shirts, socks, etc., that were of- 
 fered for the demonstration, in the meantime talking myself 
 hoarse showing up its merits, but made no sales. I can- 
 vassed the town, but failed to make sales. I finally got the 
 proprietor to take one in settlement of my bill, took the stage 
 for Kansas City, and gave up the job. I had made two dol- 
 
92 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 lars in the enterprise. Thus ended my experience in the 
 washing-machine business. I took the first boat to St. Joseph 
 that came along, and concluded I would start in no new 
 schemes until I got back to York State and regained my 
 health. 
 
 At that time the farthest west that any railroad had pene- 
 trated was St. Joseph, Mo., called the St. Jo and Hannibal 
 Railroad. As soon as I landed I bought a ticket for Chicago, 
 which included a ride from Hannibal to Quincy, 111., on the 
 Mississippi River. I saw by a poster that the express train 
 did not leave for an hour and a half, so I took a walk about 
 town to look at the city, getting back in time for the train. 
 I took a seat with a young man who said he was going to 
 Chicago, and we were soon engaged in conversation. When 
 the conductor came along and looked at my ticket he in- 
 formed me that I was on the wrong train, as it was a second- 
 class ticket good on the train that left an hour and a half 
 before. I remarked that it was my first experience with 
 railroads in the State of Missouri and supposed I was all 
 right. He smiled faintly at my greenness, punched my 
 ticket and passed on. My companion paid three or four 
 dollars more than I had for a ticket, but we rode together 
 all the way, just the same. 
 
 We arrived at Quincy, 111., at noon the next day, and had 
 to wait five hours there before we could go on. Soon after 
 leaving there, in rounding a curve the whistle blew the 
 dan<?fer signal, and on lookinor out I saw a cow in the air, 
 as high as the smokestack of the locomotive. We soon came 
 to a standstill, but started oflf again in about thirty minutes. 
 It was a pretty close call from a serious accident, but we 
 reached Chicapro all right. Nothing of moment occurred 
 on the eastward tr-ip, and I arrived at my old home in Cort- 
 
HOME AGAIN 93 
 
 land County on the i8th of October, 1859. I was glad to get 
 back to the old town of Taylor once more, having been gone 
 over a year and a half, and during that time had seen some- 
 thing of the wild and woolly West. In those days the West 
 was very wild compared to what it is at the present time. 
 Hundreds of thousands of people now occupy land that was 
 formerly a barren waste, and large cities now stand where 
 fifty years ago there was not a house. 
 
 My trip to Kansas was a failure financially, as well as dis- 
 astrous to my health. I still had eighty acres of land there, 
 besides the one hundred and sixty acres pending decision in 
 the Land Office. There was also three hundred dollars 
 owing me, but the prospect for collecting it was very slim. 
 It was very unfortunate that I did not follow my own in- 
 clinations and go through college. In a few months my land 
 suit was decided against me. I had some money left, and 
 thought of going back to California, but concluded to visit 
 my relatives in the State of Connecticut and see if my aunt 
 Bradley would help me either to go to college or to take up 
 phonography and study for a shorthand reporter. I had 
 been practicing and studying shorthand since I first began 
 it at the mines in California. My aunt Bradley was well off, 
 and I told her all about my intentions and what I wished to 
 do, but had not money enough to carry me through. She 
 gave me two hundred dollars, which was the only financial 
 assistance I ever received. I decided to go to Cincinnati and 
 study reporting with Elias Longley, at that time the best 
 reporter in the United States. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR. 
 
 I BEGAN a correspondence with Longley at once, and ar- 
 ranged for instruction, which was to begin after the ad- 
 journment of the Ohio Legislature, whose proceedings he 
 was reporting. After visiting my relatives I went back to 
 Taylor, N. Y., and from there to Cincinnati, where I ar- 
 rived on the 6th of February, i860. I studied with Mr. 
 Longley for a month, and was able to write one hundred 
 words a minute, and a speed of one hundred and twenty 
 words a minute would qualify me for reporting. 
 
 While studying with Longley I got acquainted with a Mr. 
 Hopkins, a sign painter, who had a shop a short distance 
 from Longley 's office, and for recreation I used to drop in 
 and help him. He told me he would make a sign painter of 
 me if I would stay with him, but I had no intention of doing 
 anything of the kind. By the advice of Mr. Longley I prac- 
 ticed reporting every day in the United States Court, and 
 intended to do so until I could begin regular work, when 
 there would be all I could do at good wages. I spent my 
 time in the courts and at the sign shop, learning to paint 
 signs, etc. My roommate, an Englishman, had a grocery 
 store on Western Row, and he was anxious to sell out. His 
 name was Butterworth. He and his sister came to this 
 country with considerable wealth, but it had been so much 
 
 94 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 95 
 
 reduced that he bought out a small store and went into busi- 
 ness, but was not successful. I told him to advertise, but he 
 said that if I would sell it for him he would give me a good 
 commission. In four days I had sold the property and the 
 money was in his pocket. A few days after he was taken 
 sick with diphtheria, and I attended him with the assistance 
 of his sister. As soon as he got better his sister was taken 
 down with the same complaint, and about the time that she 
 got better I was taken with the same disease and was very 
 sick. As I began to improve I found that one of my ears 
 was affected, but gave it little thought at the time. 
 
 After I had recovered sufficiently I went to the courthouse 
 to report again. The reporters' table was between the wit- 
 ness stand and the desks of the lawyers, so that we were in 
 a favorable position to hear every word that was uttered 
 in the court. I found that while I could hear on one side 
 very distinctly, the affected ear could not catch the words on 
 that side. I was so disheartened and disgusted that I hardly 
 knew what to do. I broke up my pencils, threw away my 
 notes, went to my boarding-house, packed up my clothes, 
 and was on the cars with a ticket to New York city before 
 noon. 
 
 I did not let the matter worry me long. I could get 
 through in time to take the California steamer, if no time 
 was lost, but there was a culvert washed out near Wheeling 
 and the train was twelve hours late. Just as we crossed 
 the ferry from Jersey City the steamer for California went 
 sailing out of the harbor. That meant two weeks' waiting 
 in New York before another steamer sailed. Up to this 
 time the only thing that I had been successful in was escap- 
 ing any particular success. The best that I could show in 
 the way of resources was a clear conscience, good humor, 
 
g6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and an optimistic temperament. My past troubles were cast 
 aside and I took a square look at the future. 
 
 I arrived in New York City April 28, i860. The next 
 morning I saw an advertisement in the Sun that a man for 
 sign work and house painting was wanted in Harlem. Not 
 wishing to be idle, I took the street car for Harlem and got 
 the job. The knowledge that I had received in the sign 
 shop in Cincinnati came very handy at this time, and the 
 next morning I went to work. My work seemed to be satis- 
 factory, and I was doing so well that I decided to stop over 
 for another steamer before starting for California. About 
 a week after I had begun painting, my boss wanted me to 
 go with one of his men to finish up the inside of a house. 
 A young German by the name of Paul Miller, who spoke 
 good English, and for whom I had taken a liking, went with 
 me. After we had mixed the paints and were on our way 
 to the house I said to him : "See here, I am no painter and 
 never did such a thing before in my life — in fact, know noth- 
 ing about it; but I am willing to learn, and would like to 
 have you teach me." He looked at me in astonishment. I 
 then told him what experience I had had in the painting line. 
 "Well," he said, "I believe I can make a good workman of 
 you in a short time." Before night I had learned more than 
 I ever knew before about painting, and he gave me much 
 encouragement. "You are better now," said he, "than half 
 of the painters that are employed here." Miller was one of 
 the best and most rapid painters I have ever seen, but he had 
 served seven years in Germany learning the trade. I was 
 tired that night, but decided to stick to it, and Miller man- 
 aged to keep me with him all the while. In the effort to do 
 as much as Miller I soon became a fast workman. We be- 
 came good friends, and later went into partnership, and 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 97 
 
 secured a fine contract that we failed to carry out on account 
 of the breaking out of the war. I worked in Harlem for 
 several weeks, and gave up going to California for a while. 
 
 I kept watch of the want ads, and one day saw an adver- 
 tisement from Ackerman & Miller, sign painters in Nassau 
 Street, for a man who knew something about painting. I 
 applied for the position and secured the job among seventy 
 other applicants. My duties were to open the shop, and pre- 
 pare the sign boards for lettering, help put up signs, and to 
 work on banners as assistant to the practical sign painter. 
 My position was very satisfactory to me and I enjoyed it. 
 That I gave satisfaction also was evident. I commenced 
 work for this firm on the 17th of May, i860, and remained 
 there until the 4th of August. One day Mr. Ackerman came 
 into the shop intoxicated and began to find fault with me 
 for a trilling matter, and continued his abuse until I pulled 
 ofi^ my working clothes and told him I was through and 
 would like the money that was due me. He directed the 
 bookkeeper to pay me, and I walked out. 
 
 The next day I was engaged by a minstrel troupe as sign 
 painter, and went to work on transparencies for a show the 
 next Saturday night in Grand Street; but the whole thing 
 was a fake and I did not get my pay. 
 
 The year i860 was a very exciting one in New York 
 City. It was the year of a Presidential election, with Lincoln 
 and Hamlin nominated by the Republicans, and Douglass 
 and Johnson by one wing of the Democratic party, Breck- 
 enridge and Lane by the other wing, and Bell and Everett 
 by the "Know Nothings." The four parties made a very 
 lively and bitter campaign. The Wide Awakes, with their 
 unique uniforms, made their first appearance that year. The 
 Prince of Wales, a boy of twenty, came to New York City 
 
gS ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 that year on a visit to this country, and it was said at the 
 time that New York never saw so great a crowd of people 
 before. Broadway for three miles was literally black with 
 human beings, from the edge of the sidewalk to the tops of 
 the buildings on both sides of the street. I had a good look at 
 the Prince while he was reviewing the troops that had 
 turned out to welcome him. The next big crowd was to see 
 the Japanese delegation who had come to this country for 
 the first time after Perry's famous treaty. The crowd to see 
 the Japs was not as large as greeted the Prince of Wales. 
 
 The next event of the year was the arrival of the steamer 
 Great Eastern, the largest ship ever before built. She was 
 in port several weeks, and was visited by hundreds of thou- 
 sands of people from all over the western continent. Hence 
 New York was a very lively city during the summer of i860. 
 
 After being swindled out of my just dues by the fake min- 
 strel troupe, and several dollars borrowed money by the 
 alleged proprietor of the same, I cast about for a job, and 
 soon after went to work for John McCarthy, house and sign 
 painter, corner of Ann and Nassau streets, not a stone's 
 throw from Ackerman & Miller's. I first went to drumming 
 up work for the shop, and met with fairly good success, and 
 continued until near the holidays, when business became very 
 dull, from the action of the Southern secessionists and war- 
 like preparations in the South. Business became almost 
 paralyzed and times were getting dull. Clerks were being 
 discharged from many large mercantile houses and idle men 
 were getting numerous. No one could predict what a day 
 would bring forth. Mr. McCarthy told me he would have 
 to lay us off until after the holidays, and he would see what 
 he could do for us then. So I went up to New Haven, 
 Conn., on a visit to my relatives. 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR ^ 
 
 While the foregoing has been a synopsis of my wage- 
 earning affairs, I had many interesting experiences outside 
 of my working hours. When I came to New York I knew 
 but very httle of city life outside of Cincinnati, San Fran- 
 cisco, and other smaller places where I had previously spent 
 some time. Therefore there was much that was new to me. 
 But there were times when wandering through the streets of 
 that great city that I felt more lonely than in the mountains 
 of California when prospecting miles from any known habi- 
 tation or human being. All faces were strange, and I felt 
 lost in a wilderness of people. A large city, if I am without 
 companions, is the most desolate place on earth for me. 
 After a few weeks this feeling wore off and I wanted to see 
 everything possible. I first visited all the theatres, minstrels, 
 concert halls, beer gardens, and every public place of amuse- 
 ment in the city. At that time Bryant's Minstrels, at 444 
 Broadwav, was the leading place of amusement in that vicin- 
 ity. Then came the Metropolitan Theatre, Wallack's, San 
 Francisco Minstrels, on Fourteenth Street ; The Bowery, and 
 the Old Bowery. The actors in those days were indeed fine, 
 and decidedly superior to those of the present day. Edwin 
 Forrest, Edwin Booth, Read, Keene, Laura Keene, Clara 
 Morris, the Dennin sisters, Maggie Mitchell, Lottie Crab- 
 tree were some of the shining lights. Among the best come- 
 dians were John E. Owens, Clark, and Joe Jefferson. The 
 prominent minstrels were Billy Birch, Burbank, Cotton, and 
 the Bryants, besides a thousand and one lesser lights whom 
 I have forgotten. 
 
 On Sundays I went to hear the eminent divines, more 
 especially Henry Ward Beecher, at Plymouth Church ; Tal- 
 mage, and others whose names I do not recall. 
 
 Of the candidates and political orators, I remember W. H. 
 
 Lcra 
 
100 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Seward, H. V* Johnson, Stephen A. Douglass, Horace 
 Greeley, Thurlow Weed, Wilson, Hamlin, Blaine, Conklin, 
 Horatio Seymour, Edward Everett, etc. I heard all sides 
 of political questions, but my faith in Republican principles 
 was not shaken in the least. I was unable to get into the 
 Cooper Institute to hear Lincoln in his great speech, but I 
 heard him speak from the balcony of the Astor House. 
 There doubtless had never been a year previous to the sum- 
 mer and fall of i860 so exciting, or in which there were so 
 many varied scenes of interest as in that year. Heenan re- 
 turned that summer after his victory over Tom Sayers of 
 England. The trotting record of the world was lowered on 
 the Brooklyn track, and also at the Fleetwood track in New 
 York. 
 
 A friend and roommate by the name of Wilcox, from 
 Cortland County, was a clerk and student at law in the 
 office of a well-known Tombs lawyer. Charles Spencer and 
 I used to visit him frequently at the office, and became ac- 
 quainted with many of the detectives and others who were 
 found there. One evening I called on Wilcox at the office 
 and met a detective there with whom I had Ijecome well ac- 
 quainted, and who was that night going to make an "under- 
 ground" tour between Church Street and Broadway in 
 search of a man wanted for some crime, and who was sup- 
 posed to be hiding in that locality. I remarked that I would 
 like to go along, and he said to me, "You can go if you wish, 
 but it will not be a very pleasant trip." "But Fd like to go, 
 if I will be no hindrance to you." "Oh, no, not at all. FlI 
 be glad to have your company. Have you a revolver, Wil- 
 cox ?" "I think so," said Wilcox, taking one from a drawer 
 and handing it to me. "Now, my boy," said the detective, 
 "in case of emergency do just as I tell you, but I think we 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR loi 
 
 shall have no trouble." We stayed in the office till ten 
 o'clock, then started out. 
 
 We went down Church Street a few blocks and stopped 
 for a moment in front of an entrance to a basement. My 
 conductor looked up and down the street, then motioned 
 me to follow him, and fairly darted down the steps, opened 
 the door, and we went in. The room was about thirty feet 
 wide, but how long I could not see, as it was dimly lighted 
 with a single lamp, turned down low. W^e passed tlirough 
 this room and at one side went into a dark hallway. My 
 friend pulled from his pocket a small bull's-eye lantern, and 
 we followed this passage for some distance until we came 
 to a hall running in the opposite direction. We heard voices 
 a few steps farther on, and my conductor knocked at a door. 
 A little hole was opened in the door, and my friend held a 
 consultation with some one on the inside for a moment or 
 two ; then the door was opened and we walked into a room 
 dimly lighted, with a bench running all around the room, 
 except at the doorways. A number of men and women were 
 sitting there, apparently waiting for something, and a hard- 
 looking lot they were. My friend looked them over, and 
 one or two gave him a nod of recognition. He then gave 
 three raps on a door, and after a moment gave another one, 
 and very soon the door swung noiselessly open, and going 
 through a short hall we stepped into a barroom, where there 
 were a half-dozen hard-looking customers. The barkeeper 
 seemed to know my friend, and they held a whispered con- 
 versation over the counter, and then the barkeeper handed 
 a small key to my friend and, after carelessly looking over 
 the parties about the room, made a motion for me to follow 
 him. We passed out the same way that we went in, and 
 after going some distance in the hall we stopped, and my 
 
102 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 friend unlocked an almost invisible door. We passed in, 
 stopped and fastened the door, and moved a few steps ahead 
 and came to a flight of stairs that led down one story more. 
 A sickening stench arose that almost choked us, but we 
 passed down the steps and turned into a dark passage, 
 and soon came into a well-lighted room, where we 
 could hear the clinking of glasses and a buzz of conver- 
 sation, with now and then a drunken yell from some 
 of the inmates. Some were well-dressed, others ragged and 
 dirty, and a few almost naked. One blear-eyed old hag, 
 apparently very drunk, with a ragged petticoat thrown over 
 her arm, with a short underskirt on that reached just below 
 her hips, was prancing up and down the room, begging for 
 a penny to get a poor, sick friend (who lay in a corner on 
 a bundle of rags) a little medicine or a little whisky to warm 
 her up. Most of the inmates were curled up on the floor, or 
 on wide benches that served as bunks, and appeared to be 
 either asleep or drunk. We soon left this room and followed 
 a long, damp and foul-smelling passage, when we came to 
 a barred gate, fastened with a huge lock. My friend had 
 a key to open it, and we passed on. He told me to look out 
 now, as we should soon come to a different class of people. 
 In a short time we came to a room with a guard at the dcor, 
 who evidently knew my friend and let us in very readily. 
 Here was a regular gambling den, and faro as well as rou- 
 lette and monte were being played. Four seedy-looking indi- 
 viduals were playing poker, but stopped on our arrival ; but 
 one of them seemed to know our guide, and the game went 
 on. A more choice set of blacklegs I never saw together 
 before. There were probably thirty in this room, and my 
 guide told me that more than half were skulking from jus- 
 tice and had served time in State's prison. They all seemed 
 
ENLISTMENT I'OR THE WAR 103 
 
 to look upon nze with a good deal of suspicion, but most of 
 them apparently knew my guide, and many were friendly 
 with him, and some greeted him warmly. We stopped in 
 this room for some time, but finally left and climbed up a 
 rickety stairway to the floor above, and passed through a set 
 of sleeping-rooms or rows of berths, as on a ship, with 
 notices that berths were five and ten cents. To all appear- 
 ances the occupants were of the lowest class, both men and 
 women. After considerable parley with the proprietor of 
 this den, and the rousing up of two or three sleepers, we 
 returned to the street by a dark passageway. It was two 
 A.M. when we reached the street. We did not find the man 
 that the detective was looking for. It seemed good to get 
 into the fresh air again; but I enjoyed the trip, though I 
 never believed before that such conditions could exist in the 
 heart of the city. 
 
 A trip through the slums and tenement-houses on the East 
 Side, through Cherry and other streets, beggars description. 
 I saw misery, vice, drunkenness and degradation enough to 
 last me a lifetime, and after that the scenes in Oliver Twist 
 were very tame by the side of the reality, such as I saw in 
 New York. 
 
 One of the greatest sights of that summer, to me, was the 
 Great Eastern. She lay in the Hudson River, extending 
 three blocks on West Street from bow to stern. She lay 
 almost exactly where the first steamboat did thirty-three 
 years before, when Robert Fulton revolutionized travel and 
 transportation by water. Although wonderful improvements 
 were made the next thirty-three years, yet I hardly think 
 they were as rapid as the first thirty-three. Fulton's little 
 steamer could have easily been thrown down one of the 
 smokestacks of this immense vessel. One day as I sat on 
 
I04 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the end of the wharf gazing at this ship, and looking back 
 to the time of the first steamer, which made its trial trip only 
 five years before I was born, I wondered what the next thirty 
 years would bring forth. I have lived forty years since 
 then, and it is amazing that so much could be accomplished 
 during the period of a man's short life. 
 
 While in Connecticut I visited an uncle of mine in Hamden, 
 and one of his sons, living only a stone's throw away, a good 
 farmer, and something of a politician, by some means got 
 elected to the State Legislature. His organ of self-esteem 
 was immense, and his eccentric habit of using large words, 
 very often misplaced and many times most ridiculous, alto- 
 gether miade him a most amusing companion. With a great 
 'T am" sort of an air he cordially greeted me, and in a short 
 time had told me all about his wife and baby, his election 
 to the State Legislature, the great speeches he had made, 
 the great laws he had passed, and how, by the most 
 superhuman efforts, he had saved the State many thousands 
 of dollars, and how much he congratulated himself upon his 
 wise and patriotic course, how much the people of the State 
 ought to thank him, and how ready they ought to be to send 
 him back to the Legislature for another term to carry out 
 some great projects that he had in view. He said that if he 
 got them through all right it would be the stepping-stone to 
 making him Governor of the State. He had not the least 
 doubt of reaching that position, if the people would only 
 listen to him. 
 
 This illustrious cousin of mine, whose exalted opinion of 
 himself was much greater than his opinion of any other per- 
 son, or of their opinions of him, wished me to attend a meet- 
 ing of a debating club with him, of which he had been 
 chosen president at the last meeting. I assented, and when 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 105 
 
 the time came rode down with him to the district school- 
 house, where the debate was to be held. We found on our 
 arrival about twenty-five to thirty persons already there, and 
 I was introduced to a justice of the peace, two or three dea- 
 cons, and, in fact, as my cousin remarked, "the cream of our 
 suburban population." In due time the president took the 
 chair and, with a grand flourish of his arm and a toss of the 
 head, called the meeting to order. Quite a number of ladies 
 were in attendance, mostly of middle age and not of very 
 prepossessing appearance. 
 
 **The question, ladies and gentlemen, for this evening, as 
 you are aware, is this : *Which Is of the Greatest Benefit — 
 the Press or the Pulpit?' Now, ladies and gentlemen, you 
 will array and arrange yourselves to meet the coming con- 
 test according to the usual method, with the affirmative on 
 the right and the negative on the left. So mote it be. The 
 meeting stands adjourned for ten minutes for arrangement." 
 When the meeting was called to order, all the deacons and 
 one old maid were on the side of the pulpit, and the younger 
 portion of the debaters were on the side of the press. A 
 young man of about twenty-five years of age opened the 
 debate on the side of the press. His argument was not very 
 convincing to me, and his delivery was not good, with much 
 repetition of gestures, very awkward, and the sing-song tone 
 of his voice soon became very monotonous. For an opening 
 it was decidedly a failure, and every one seemed to be re- 
 lieved when he sat down. One of the deacons, a man of 
 about forty-five or fifty years of age, opened on the side of 
 the pulpit. He, with a loud voice, thanked God that he was 
 on the side of Christ, as he always had been and always 
 meant to be. "Amen !" shouted the deacon next to him. 
 "Order, order!" shouted the chairman. "This is not a 
 
io6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 prayer-meeting," and the speaker went on : "How can the 
 press compare with the pulpit ? Christ did not use the press, 
 did he? Look at our county paper, or any of our New 
 Haven papers, and what will you find in them but love 
 stories and lies, and the truth ain't in them. See the lies 
 that our county paper put in about my brother's wife's niece, 
 as nice a young girl as walks on two legs; and then only 
 last week there was a long piece about Aunt Jenny Brown 
 having hysterics, and rubbing her best dress all over with 
 butter to spite it, so she wouldn't have to go to meeting. 
 Was that a benefit to the public — eh?" "How about the 
 preacher that left his pulpit and ran away with Sam Jones ?" 
 said a squeaky voice from a corner of the room, followed 
 by a hearty laugh from the audience, which seemed to dis- 
 concert the deacon, and he sat down. 
 
 The next speaker on the side of the press was a young 
 lady of about twenty years of age, who spoke very low and 
 very fast, and I was not able to catch the drift of her argu- 
 ment. However, there was one good feature about it — it 
 was very short. Next came deacon No. 2, whose photo- 
 graph would have made a good picture for a comic almanac. 
 Rising slowly, and pulling a large bandanna handkerchief 
 from his pocket, he blew his nose, and said that the argu- 
 ment was already won for the pulpit. To compare the press 
 with the pulpit was praising Satan in the face of God, and 
 the press had no influence with him or his family. After a 
 few commonplace remarks he sat down, followed by an old 
 maid on the side of the press, whose tongue seemed hung on 
 a swivel and played at both ends. With a nasal twang she 
 rattled off a whole lot of language, interspersed with "tews" 
 and "du's" that none could understand or keep track of. It 
 seemed as though she never would stop, and when she sat 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR tto; 
 
 down she would not stay down, but kept jumping up to 
 make an additional remark she had forgotten. The other 
 debaters were like children, who seemed to have committed 
 their parts to memory. Just as the debate was about to 
 close, a small, middle-aged man asked for the privilege of 
 making a remark in favor of the press. The privilege was 
 granted. He said : *T wish to bring to notice the fact that 
 I have heard nothing about the benefits of the cider press 
 or the cheese press, as I know of no press more beneficial 
 than these.*' He was called to order and the debate closed. 
 
 Which side won I never heard, but shades of my ances- 
 tors ! such a debate, presided over by a member of the State 
 Legislature, in the supposed home of schools, art and litera- 
 ture, almost in the shade of the great elms of Yale, in a 
 State with two capitals, the birthplace of a Putnam, the 
 land of wooden nutmegs, that raised a Henry Ward 
 Beecher ! Could it be possible ? The wild and woolly West, 
 clear to the Pacific Ocean, could not produce such a bur- 
 lesque as I witnessed there in the wilds of New England. 
 The debate, the place, the president, in fact, the whole thing, 
 was so unique and interesting to me that I have told it many 
 times as one of my best stories. 
 
 At that time, in every neighborhood could be found 
 old people above the age of seventy years who had never 
 been outside their own town limits since they were born. 
 After a short visit to my relatives I went up to Springfield, 
 ]\Iass., where my uncle Ezra Kimberly lived. He lived near 
 the Springfield armory, where all of Uncle Sam's small arms 
 were manufactured at that time. I went through the shops, 
 which were very interesting at that time, but little did I 
 dream, when looking through the buildings where thou- 
 sands upon thousands of muskets were stored, that within 
 
io8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 a short year every one of them would be in use to defend the 
 Union, with many more needed to supply the demand. 
 
 When I returned to New York I found everything in the 
 way of business at a standstill. During my absence the 
 State of South Carolina had seceded from the Union. This 
 occurred on the 20th of December, i860. Mississippi next 
 passed the ordinance of secession, January 9, 1861 ; Florida 
 on January loth, Alabama on January nth, Georgia on 
 January 19th, Louisiana on January 26th, and Texas on 
 February ist, making seven States that claimed to be out 
 of the Union, with the border States threatening to follow 
 them. This had a very depressing effect on all kinds of 
 business. 
 
 I went back to Mr. McCarthy to see if he had anything 
 for me to do. After a day or two he concluded to set me 
 at work at reduced wages, which I accepted, and remained 
 in his employ until Fort Sumter was fired upon, on the 12th 
 of April, t86i. 
 
 The bottom then seemed to fall out of everything. Idle 
 men were everywhere. After my return from Connecticut, 
 Paul Miller and myself arranged a partnership to go into 
 the house painting business. Miller being acquainted with 
 the contractor who had a contract to build a whole block be- 
 tween Fourth and Madison avenues. We secured the con- 
 tract to paint the whole block inside and out. By close cal- 
 culation of cost of material, labor, and so forth, we could 
 make several thousand dollars on the job by the first of 
 November. The Fort Sumter affair put an end to all new 
 enterprises, and nothing was thought of but war. 
 
 Disheartened and gloomy with forebodings, I bid Miller 
 good-bye and started for Cortland County to await events. 
 I arrived at Taylor the loth of April. My stepmother and 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 109 
 
 stepbrother were living on the old farm there, and I took 
 up my residence with them, part of the time making my 
 home with Levi Mallory and his son L. Mallory. The three 
 daughters were all at home, and the time passed pleasantly. 
 For the next few months I was employed in painting a few 
 houses, working on the old farm, and debating whether I 
 should join the army or go to California. Through the New 
 York Daily Herald I kept well posted as to war matters — 
 Bull Run, McClellan's campaign in West Virginia, his call 
 to take command of the Army of the Potomac, etc. In Sep- 
 tember I concluded to go to California, as I thought the war 
 would not last long and more men would not be needed. 
 
 The latter part of September I went to Truxton to see my 
 old friend and schoolmate, John G. Pierce, and found him 
 with the war fever and recruiting a company for cavalry 
 service. Most of my schoolmates and young friends were 
 enlisting in the infantry, mostly in the Seventy-sixth New 
 York Volunteers. Pierce urged me very hard to join his com- 
 pany. I told him that I had made arrangements to go back 
 to California, but I would think the matter over and let him 
 know in the next two weeks. We had always been the best 
 of friends — chums, in fact — and I doubt if any one else 
 could have induced me to change my plans. After thinking 
 the matter over for some time, I finally decided to go with 
 him. 
 
 I enlisted on the 12th of October, and at once took charge 
 of several enrolled men and went to Cortland with them, 
 holding them as a nucleus for a full company of one hundred 
 men. The headquarters of the Seventy-sixth New York 
 Volunteer Infantry were on the Fair Grounds at Cortland, 
 and they got most of the volunteers, but now and then one 
 would be found for the cavalry. A. D. Waters had just 
 
no ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 returned from the Twenty-third Regiment of New York 
 Infantry, and, being a friend of Pierce, concluded to join 
 us, and went to work to fill up the company, and to add 
 other cavalry companies that were being raised in different 
 parts of the State. One company at Syracuse, in which 
 were many boys from Cortland County, was nearly full. 
 This company (A) was sent to Elmira and placed in bar- 
 racks, to form the nucleus of a regiment to be called the 
 'Torter Guards." Soon after other companies arrived, in- 
 cluding ours, which left Cortland on the 25th of October. 
 We still lacked a considerable number of men to fill the com- 
 pany. A. D. Waters and J. G. Pierce were selected as our 
 officers, and if we could raise a full company I was to be 
 second lieutenant. An old chap by the name of Delos Car- 
 penter brought about half a company from Bath, N. Y., and 
 it was proposed that our company be consolidated with 
 Carpenter's; but Carpenter claimed the captaincy, with 
 Waters and Pierce as lieutenants. Then Carpenter claimed 
 the appointment of the next officer, orderly sergeant, the re- 
 maining non-commissioned positions to be equally divided 
 between the two wings. By this arrangement I was to have 
 the quartermaster-sergeant's place. This programme was 
 carried out, and, having a full company, our soldier life 
 commenced. With the Porter Guards there were now eight 
 organized companies of cavalry at the rendezvous, and by 
 order of the Adjutant-General of the State we were con- 
 solidated into a regiment and designated as the Tenth New 
 York Volunteer Cavalry. Many would-be officers were 
 thrown out including myself by the consolidation, and 
 had to go in the ranks or refuse to be mustered in. After 
 much wrangling about places and officers, the regiment was 
 finally mustered into the United States service, with John 
 
ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR ni 
 
 C. Lemon, of Buffalo, as colonel ; William Irvine, of Elmira, 
 as lieutenant-colonel, and M. H. Avery, of Syracuse, as first 
 major, and John H. Kemper as second major, one to each 
 battalion. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN THE ARMY. 
 
 We left Elmira on the 24th day of December, 1861, for 
 the then almost unheard-of town of Gettysburg, Pa. We 
 were twenty-four hours on the trip, but most of the men 
 enjoyed themselves playing all sorts of pranks upon one 
 another, and sleep during the night was impossible. When 
 we reached Gettysburg we must have presented a very poor 
 appearance to the people of that town, but we were received 
 with open arms, and open doors as well. The people could 
 not do enough for us, and every member of the regiment 
 was invited to partake of their hospitality. Each company 
 was housed either in public or private buildings in different 
 parts of the town. The citizens were composed mostly of 
 what was then called Pennsylvania Dutch. A few months 
 before they had been badly frightened by some of the rebel 
 cavalry that made a raid into the country north of the Poto- 
 mac, and were said to have threatened the town of Gettys- 
 burg; hence their application to have a regiment stationed 
 there. They were happy to have our protectiorbat that time, 
 so that self-interest had something to do with our warm 
 reception. Company G occupied the bowling alley in the 
 south part of the town. The town was full of pretty girls, 
 and not a few of them found a sweetheart in the ranks of 
 the regiment. Our officers held a loose rein over the men, 
 
 112 
 
IN THE ARMY 113 
 
 consequently discipline was not rigidly enforced. Balls, par- 
 ties, rides and all sorts of amusements were rife, and the old 
 town had never been so lively as during the two months of 
 our stay there in the winter of 1861-62. A number of mar- 
 riages occurred during and after the war as a result of our 
 sojourn there. 
 
 Notwithstanding some unpleasant episodes, the "Porter 
 Guards," for the most part, were ever held in high regard 
 and esteem by the best citizens of the town. 
 
 Sergeant McKivett and myself were somewhat attentive 
 to a couple of girls while we were there. I speak of this 
 from the fact that my girl was Jennie Wade, who was killed 
 by a rebel bullet during the battle of Gettysburg, the story 
 of whom is so familiar. Her name will live in song and 
 story as one of the bravest victims of that memorable battle. 
 An account of this event is given on pages 143-144. 
 
 About six weeks after our arrival at Gettysburg barracks 
 were built for the men, and the town was relieved from its 
 burden of soldiers. Guard duty and drilling was the order 
 of the day, and some rumors that we were to be sent to the 
 front were joyfully received. The citizens visited us in 
 large numbers each day at dress parade to enjoy the music 
 of the band, which w^as one of the best in the service. 
 
 On the 6th of March an order was received to be in readi- 
 ness to move the next. day. At noon on the 7th the whole 
 regiment was aboard two trains of cars, and, amid tears and 
 cheers and fond adieus, we departed from the ever to be 
 remembered village of Gettysburg. The Sentinel of the next 
 day had the following to say about our departure : "The 
 large number of our citizens who assembled to see them off 
 must have shown to the Tenth Regiment that their presence 
 among us had not been an unpleasant one, and we think we 
 
114 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 utter an almost universal sentiment that their departure was 
 regretted. Speaking for ourselves, our intercourse v^rith 
 those of the officers and men with whom we were placed in 
 familiar and almost daily contact has been of the most so- 
 ciable, agreeable and pleasant character." 
 
 This is what the Star had to say : "This much we can say 
 for the "'Porter Guards" : that we have not seen anywhere 
 a finer-looking regiment, a regiment generally composed of 
 men most gentlemanly in their deportment, most intelligent 
 and well-behaved, and we profess to have seen a great num- 
 ber since the beginning of the rebellion." 
 
 Soon after reaching the Central Railroad we found sol- 
 diers guarding the track all the way to Baltimore. We 
 arrived at the Monumental City just at dusk, and after much 
 delay were marched to the President Street Depot of the 
 P., W. & B. R. R., where we were jolted about on the cars 
 all night, and then started for Perryville with orders to go 
 into camp there. We arrived there about ten a.m., and were 
 unloaded into the mud, ankle deep, amid the cheers of hun- 
 dreds of mules and the yells of hundreds of darkies, who 
 were brealiing them in. The teamsters wanted to know if 
 we had come to relieve them. As we had no arms, it looked 
 a little that way. After a kind of go-as-you-please march 
 for nearly a mile, we got to the barracks and were assigned 
 quarters. A rumor soon came that we were to be put into 
 the infantry, and there was a row at once. Every one was 
 dissatisfied, and the trouble begun among the officers in 
 Gettysburg now spread to the rank and file, and it looked for 
 a time as though we might be disbanded. 
 
 After a short stay at Perryville, the regiment was sent 
 to relieve the Scott Life Guards at Havre de Grace, and 
 the first battlion, under Major Avery, was assigned to duty 
 
IN THE ARMY 115 
 
 guarding the railroad bridges between Baltimore and Havre 
 de Grace — Company A at Back River, Company G at Gun- 
 powder River, Company C at Bush River, and Company F 
 at Perrymans. Our company (G) was housed in a barn 
 at Harewood, at the south end of the Gunpowder River 
 bridge. In the meantime the whole regiment was clamoring 
 to be sent to the field or disbanded. There was a good deal 
 of talk about our being put into the infantry, which caused 
 a dissatisfied feeling among the men, but not so much in our 
 company as in most of the other companies. The question 
 in our company was how to get rid of the old captain, Car- 
 penter. The fight was so bitter that we took but little inter- 
 est in regimental affairs, and the fact that we were separated 
 from the other companies caused us to concentrate all of our 
 interest upon our own. In June, the regiment, with the ex- 
 ception of Companies A, C. G, were removed to Baltimore, 
 with headquarters at Patterson Park. 
 
 Aside from our troubles with the old captain, our stay 
 at Harewood was much enjoyed. The fishing was good, 
 and we had the use of a large boat for excursions on the 
 river. Five or six miles below us was General Cadwalader's 
 country residence, with spacious grounds, which were free 
 to our soldiers to visit whenever we wished. As we were 
 not required to drill much, it was a sort of continuous picnic 
 for us. Those who had a taste for the ardent found plenty 
 of it a few miles away, and indulged sometimes too freely, 
 which would often end in a fight and the guardhouse. 
 
 One night, while the old captain was away, and Lieutenant 
 Waters was in command, we had quite a scare. A report 
 came into camp that the rebels were going to attack us that 
 night. At about ten p.m. the whole company was drawn 
 up in line in front of our quarters by Lieutenant Waters, 
 
Ii6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 who found that we had only about ten or twelve Springfield 
 muskets besides those used by the guards on the bridge ; 
 but we all had sabres. After full instructions from the lieu- 
 tenant, a skirmish line was formed, the men provided with 
 muskets in front. We were ordered to keep a strict watch 
 for the advance of the enemy, and to hold ourselves in readi- 
 ness to support the skirmishers, or look out for themselves, 
 as many did, early in the movement, by hiding along the 
 banks of the river. After being out all night, with no sign 
 of the enemy, we were ordered back to our quarters, and 
 thus ended our first military exploit. 
 
 From this time on, while stationed at Harewood, we 
 drilled every day. With boating, fishing and hunting the 
 time passed pleasantly, until we received orders to move to 
 Washington, D. C, where we arrived on the i6th of August, 
 1862. A part of the regiment had received horses at Balti- 
 more, and marched from there to Washington, and had a 
 camp already established. The camp was on the historical 
 dueling ground of Bladensburg, where many a noted char- 
 acter lost his life in an affair of honor. It was also the bat- 
 tlefield where the British defeated the Americans and took 
 the city of Washington, sacked and burned the capital, on 
 August 24, 1 8 14, just forty-eight years before. "Uncle 
 Abe," with Secretary Seward, came out to see us now and 
 then on dress parade. The boys were getting along pretty 
 well breaking in the green horses, though in some cases it 
 was hard to determine which was the greenest, the man or 
 the horse. 
 
 On August 23d I was detailed with ten other officers and 
 men of the regiment to recruit for the Tenth New York 
 Volunteer Cavalry in accordance with general orders from 
 the War Department. Under command of Lieutenant 
 
IN THE ARMY 117 
 
 Waters this detachment went to New York State at once 
 and commenced recruiting for four new companies. Offices 
 were opened in different parts of the State, with Elmira as 
 the general rendezvous. I succeeded in enUsting forty men, 
 and on the 29th of October was mustered in with Company 
 L as second Heutenant. 
 
 Although I worked hard to get my men, it was an interest- 
 ing and pleasant experience for me, as most of the time I 
 was among intimate friends. Many amusing incidents oc- 
 curred, as well as many sad ones. When the husband 
 parted from a loved and loving wife and little ones to give 
 his life for his country it was indeed sad. To realize such 
 scenes one must witness them. By some of the women I was 
 abused for taking away their husbands ; by others a contrary 
 effect was noticeable, for they seemed to be glad to have 
 them go. Strange to say, out of the forty men I enlisted 
 not a man was killed in action, though some were wounded, 
 and some died in hospital ; but most of them lived to return 
 after the war was over. 
 
 On the 25th of October, Companies I, K, and L received 
 their clothing, and on the 30th we started for Alexandria, 
 Va., and arrived there on the 2d day of November and went 
 into camp. We received the regular army ration of hard- 
 tack, pork, beans, etc., and one blanket, and had good, soft 
 Virginia mud to sleep on. The boys stood it pretty well, 
 but the pork was full of life, and so animated that one of 
 the boys said his pork walked off in the night. Complaint 
 was made, and after that we had a good, fresh meat ration. 
 I was mostly employed in drilling the men on foot for the 
 first week, when we were ordered to Washington to receive 
 our horses, which by the way, were a fine lot of animals. 
 Some days intervened before we got our equipment, arms, 
 
ii8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 etc. On the 26. of December we left camp and joined the 
 regiment on the 5th instant at Brook's Station during a 
 snow-storm. 
 
 A few days after we reached the regiment my company 
 was ordered to report to headquarters of General Franklin's 
 division for duty. We left the regiment on December 10, 
 1862, and reported to the general, and were ordered to camp 
 near headquarters. On December nth fifty men were de- 
 tailed for orderlies. Heavy cannonading was heard all that 
 day. Vanderbilt commanded the bodyguard of General 
 Smith. On the morning of the 12th of December the left 
 wing of the army was on the move towards Fredericksburg. 
 Early in the morning the company was drawn up in line to 
 await the action of the general, who soon made his appear- 
 ance and led off at a very brisk gallop, followed by the body- 
 guard. Vanderbilt started out to keep up with the general, 
 and I was doing my best to keep up with Vanderbilt. The 
 company of green men who had just joined the army, with 
 their horses loaded like a pack-train, was a most ludicrous 
 sight. The following account of this march was written 
 by Captain Vanderbilt for the regimental history : "My com- 
 pany had been mustered into the service about six weeks 
 before, and had received horses less than a month prior to 
 this march, and in the issue we drew everything on the 
 schedule — watering bridles, lariat ropes and pins ; in fact, 
 there was nothing on the printed list of supplies that we did 
 not get. Many men had extra blankets, some large quilts 
 presented by some fond mother or maiden aunt (dear 
 souls!), sabres and belts, together with the straps that pass 
 over the shoulder; carbines and slings, pockets full of car- 
 tridges, nose bags, and little extra bags for carrying oats, 
 haversacks, canteens and spurs, some of thern of the Mexi- 
 
IN THE ARMY 119 
 
 can pattern, as large as small windmills, and more in the 
 way than the spurs on the legs of a young rooster, catching 
 in the grass when they walked, gathering of briars, vines 
 and weeds, catching their pants, and in the way generally ; 
 currycombs, brushes, button lints, overcoats, frying-pans, 
 cups, coffee pots, etc. Now, the old companies had become 
 used to these things, and had got down to light marching 
 condition gradually, had learned how to wear the uniform, 
 sabre and carbine, etc. ; but my company had hardly time 
 to get into proper shape, when the "General" was sounded, 
 ''boots and saddles" blown, and Major Falls commanded: 
 "Shoun," "Airr," ''Ount," "Aoun." Such a rattling, jing- 
 ling, scrabbling, cursing I never heard before. Green horses 
 — some of them had never been ridden before — turned round 
 and round, backed against each other, jumped up, or stood 
 up like trained circus horses. Some of the boys had a pile 
 in front, on their saddles, and one in the rear, so high and 
 heavy that it took two men to saddle one horse, and two men 
 to help the fellow into his place. The horse sheered out, 
 going sideways, pushing the well-disposed animals out of 
 position, etc. Some of the boys had never rode anything 
 since they galloped on a hobby-horse, and clasped their legs 
 close together, thus unconsciously sticking their spurs into 
 their horses' sides. Well, this was the crowd I commanded 
 to mount on the morning I was ordered by General Smith to 
 follow him. We got in line at headquarters, and when he 
 got ready to start he started all over. He left no doubt 
 about his starting! As soon as I could get my breath I 
 shouted, ''By fours, for'd, arch !" then, immediately, "Gallop, 
 arch," and away we went over the hard frozen ground to- 
 v;ards Fredericksburg. In less than ten minutes Tenth 
 New York Cavalrymen might have been seen on every hill 
 
120 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 for two miles rearward. Poor fellows ! I wanted to help 
 them, but the general was "on to Richmond/' and I hardly 
 dared look back for fear of losing him. I did not have the 
 remotest idea where he was going, and didn't know but 
 that he was going to keep it up all day. It was my first Vir- 
 ginia ride as a warrior in the field. My uneasiness may be 
 imagined. I was wondering what in the mischief I should 
 say to the general when we halted, and none of the com- 
 pany there but me. He was the first real, live general I had 
 seen who was going out to fight. Talk about the "Flying 
 Dutchman !" Blankets slipped from under saddles and hung 
 by one corner. Saddles slid back until they were on the 
 rumps of the horses ; others turned and were on the under- 
 side of the animals; horses running and kicking; tin pans, 
 mess kettles, patent sheet-iron camp stoves the boys had 
 seen advertised in the illustrated papers, and sold by the 
 sutlers at Alexandria — about as useful as a piano or fold- 
 ing-bed — flying through the air, and all I could do was to 
 give a hasty glance to the rear and sing out at the top of 
 my voice, "Close up !" Poor boys ! they coulda't close. Their 
 eyes stuck out like a maniac's. We went only a few miles, 
 but the boys didn't all get there till noon. My company was 
 used as orderlies to infantry generals. Pitt I\Iorse was 
 orderly to General Russell. One day the general was sitting 
 on his horse, witli Morse just behind him, when he (Morse) 
 spied a nice round percussion shell lying on the ground. He 
 jumped off and got it. Having no other place to put it, he 
 laid it on his oats bag in front, intending to take it home 
 "when he went" (wasn't that innocence?). The general 
 suddenly turned to give him an order, when his astonished 
 gaze fell upon Morse's shell. "What in the world have you 
 got there?" shouted the general, laying his hand threaten- 
 
IN THE ARMY I2i 
 
 ing-ly on his revolver. "Get down off that horse, and don't 
 ^ou drop that shell. Be careful now. Go and lay it in that 
 water, and then report to your commanding officer. I don't 
 need you any longer." 
 
 On the night of the 12th and morning of the 13th of De- 
 cember the whole army crossed the Rappahannock and at- 
 tacked the rebels in their strongholds on the heights back 
 of Fredericksburg. It was a hard fight all day. General 
 George D. Bayard, who at the time commanded the cavalry, 
 was killed. My duties during the day were carrying dis- 
 patches and moving squads of prisoners across the river 
 and delivering them to the provost marshal at headquarters, 
 on the north side of the Rappahannock. On the night of 
 the 13th, during a drizzling rain and fog, I camped with a 
 small squad of our men in the mud near the river, and had 
 orders not to unsaddle our horses. With a poncho spread 
 on top of the mud, I wrapped my martial cloak around me 
 and laid down to my dreams with the bridle reins over my 
 arm. My faithful horse made a path clear around me, care- 
 fully stepping over my legs, without disturbing me during 
 the night. At daylight on the 14th we were aroused by the 
 artillery firing from both sides of the river, and while our 
 squad was sitting over the fire, trying to make a little coffee 
 in our tin cups, a shell came whizzing along and struck 
 square in the centre of the fire. Our coffee vvas ruined, but 
 the shell did not explode or injure either of us or our horses. 
 W'e went without coft'ee that morning. 
 
 The battle was now raging with great fury all along the 
 whole line, and we were all soon called to duty. That after- 
 noon J was carrying dispatches to General Newton just as 
 our men were ordered to storm Marye Heights. He was 
 standing on a knoll about a quarter of a mile away from the 
 
122 ONE OK THE PEOPLE 
 
 storming line, and as he stepped to his horse to write an 
 answer to the dispatch I had brought him he handed me his 
 field glass, and through it I had a splendid sight of the 
 charge, when our men were mowed down like grass before 
 the scythe. Seldom were so many men killed in so short a 
 time as in the few minutes I looked through General New- 
 ton's glass. It was one of the worst slaughters of the war. 
 
 On the 14th, 15th and i6th General Burnside moved the 
 army back to the north side of the river. We were about the 
 last to recross, about two o'clock on the morning of Decem- 
 ber 1 6th. The night was very dark. We reached the heights 
 north of Fredericksburg and camped in the woods. Van 
 says to me, "Pick a good place to sleep" ; so I found a hollow 
 place between two knolls, where we spread our blankets and 
 crawled in. In the course of an hour or so a hard rain set 
 in, and it was not long before the water was several inches 
 deep under and around us. Van never got up so quick in 
 his life, nor was I very slow, either. About the first thing 
 Van called for was "your canteen." I handed it to him 
 and said he, "Here's looking at you. Damn you. Couldn't 
 you pick out a better bed than that for your superior offi- 
 cer?" We slept but little the rest of the night, but were 
 glad to find ourselves alive after our first battle. Early the 
 next morning our Ethiopian cook prepared a breakfast of 
 "lob scouse" and salt horse, with cofifee, and we established 
 a temporary camp and rested. The next night we slept till 
 reveille sounded and began to feel like ourselves again. 
 
 On the 2d of January, 1863, we were ordered to join our 
 regiment at Camp Bayard, near Belle Plain landing on Ac- 
 quia Creek, Va. On the 6th the whole regiment was or- 
 dered on picket between the Potomac and the Rappahan- 
 nock, but were relieved after three or four days. On Janu- 
 
IN THE ARMY 123 
 
 ary 20th our company was ordered on picket near Muddy 
 Creek, with pickets along the Rappahannock river. A terri- 
 ble storm raged all the while we were out. The army had 
 started in to move, but got stuck in the mud, and had to re- 
 turn to camp. We were in camp until the 28th, when the 
 whole regiment was ordered out on a scout during a heavy 
 snow storm which continued until the snow was six inches 
 deep. We camped that night in a piece of woods and I lay 
 on two rails to keep out of the mud and water. The next 
 morning was cold and frosty, and the regiment suffered 
 severely. I was ordered to take twenty men and thoroughly 
 explore Matthias Point (a large tract of land extending out 
 into the Potomac river), and drive in any cattle that I might 
 find there. This was where the rebels had a large stock of 
 cattle for army purposes. We found about fifty head, 
 but they were as wild as deer, and with only twenty men it 
 was an impossibility to drive them out, and the next day 
 we returned to camp. 
 
 February 3rd was a very cold day, but the paymaster paid 
 us off and consequently all were happy. The paymaster is 
 always the most welcome guest that ever visits the army. 
 On the 9th, loth and nth of February we vv^ere on picket 
 duty at Widow Gray's farm. The regiment was short of 
 meat, and I was ordered to take five men and visit the widow 
 and inform her that we would have to take one of her fat 
 cattle for beef, for which I was to give her a receipt that 
 would be cashed by the government at some future time. 
 The widow received me very graciously, but was very loath 
 to part with any of her stock, but finally consented to let 
 me have one only. She became very talkative, and asked me 
 many questions. She asked my occupation before joining 
 the army, J told her that I was a painter. "Oh, indeed," 
 
124 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 says she. "Well, I have something I wish you to see, and 
 although you are a Yankee I will take you to my parlor and 
 show you some paintings from the old masters, several of 
 which I bought in Europe when my dear husband and I 
 made a tour of the continent a good many years ago. I'll 
 tell you," she says, "my husband, he is dead now, poor soul, 
 always declared that I was not a good judge of art, and 
 of two paintings we never could agree which was the best 
 as a work of art. The one I thought was the best he de- 
 clared was the poorest, and I have always wished for some 
 one who knew what good paintings were to look at them, 
 and decide who was right, or who had the most artistic 
 taste," and she motioned me to follow to a large parlor that 
 was lined with pictures and portraits. "Now," she says, 
 "here are the two paintings, and I am not going to tell you 
 which I think is the best, but I want you to say. My hus- 
 band always thought the shadows were so perfect in that one, 
 but there is one over there (pointing to one en the other side 
 of the room) in which the shading is better. Now, lieuten- 
 ant, take a good look at them both, and give me your de- 
 cision." I thought that if this lady knew that I was only a 
 sign painter, she would not be so enthusiastic — but I pro- 
 ceeded to scan the pictures closely, changing positions to get 
 a different light on them. I carried out the deception to the 
 best of my ability, and from the remark that she had al- 
 ready dropped knew very well which she thought the best. 
 So after some minutes of critical examination and con- 
 sideration I pronounced the one that I thought was her 
 favorite as the better picture. She clapped her hands in 
 glee, and remarked that our tastes were very much alike, 
 and ventured to questioned me about other pictures that she 
 possessed. I begged to be excused, but promised to call and 
 
IN THE ARMY 125 
 
 look them over at some future time, which she very cor- 
 dially invited me to do. Some weeks after this I was after 
 another head of her stock for beef and she was so mad about 
 it that she forgot all about the pictures. 
 
 On the 1 6th of February we were sent on picket, with 
 headquarters near King George's Court House, and I was 
 detailed to act as regimental quartermaster and commis- 
 sary. My duties were to furnish the regiment with forage 
 for the horses, and meat for the men. We got most of our 
 beef by shooting cattle on Matthias Point. I had a detail 
 of twenty of the best men each day, and most of the time 
 we were outside the lines. I longed for a brush with the 
 enemy when outside the lines, but we never saw more than 
 two or three at a time, and they soon got out of our way. 
 
 One day I learned of a planter who lived on the banks of 
 the Potomac, and had a large amount of corn and other 
 provisions, but he was about fifteen miles outside of our 
 lines. I had my men ready to start at sunrise the next 
 morning, and we reached the plantation at ten o'clock a.m. 
 and found cribs full of corn, hay, turkeys and chickens, 
 cattle, several yokes of oxen, carts, wagons, etc. The pro- 
 prietor was a well-preserved man of about eighty years of 
 age, and a thoroughbred rebel. I informed him that we 
 were after forage and would have to press into service a 
 few of his teams and negroes to drive them to camp, but 
 that they would be returned. I told him also that receipts 
 for everything taken would be given him and he could collect 
 from Uncle Sam, providing he could prove his loyalty to the 
 government. He listened very attentively to my recital, and 
 when I paused for a reply, he broke out with an oath, say- 
 ing, ''Damn you, we will feed you if necessary and whip 
 you and then make you pay for it all in the end. Say," 
 
126 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 says he, "you blue-coated Yank, you seem to be quite a 
 decent sort of a chap, or was, perhaps, before you got into 
 the army. Come into the house and take a drink with me, 
 damn you." "In a moment," said I, and I turned to the 
 sergeant and gave him orders to press into service all the 
 carts and negroes and load up with corn and hay, ready to 
 start, and report the amount to me at the house, but first 
 station a few pickets outside to give the alarm and avoid any 
 surprise. 
 
 "Now, sir," said I, "I am ready to enjoy your hospitality 
 while the boys are getting ready to return to camp." 
 
 The house was situated on a high bluff, overlooking the 
 broad Potomac, with a magnificent view for many miles 
 down the river. The view up the river was obstructed by 
 a piece of woods. In walking about the grounds I noticed 
 at the foot of the bluff a snug little cove, v^here a couple 
 of large-sized sailboats were anchored, entirely hidden from 
 view from the river or the surrounding country. Some 
 months after this I learned that this was the route by which 
 mail, medicines, and other contraband goods were taken 
 through to Richmond, Va., from the North. In the course 
 of an hour, the sergeant reported the amount of forage 
 taken, for which I gave a receipt, and we were soon on our 
 way to camp. When we reached our lines and camped, I 
 found that we had turkeys, chickens, two small pigs, plenty 
 of wine and some fresh pork, corn bread freshly made, that 
 I had not receipted for, but we enjoyed it all the same, and 
 early the next morning distributed our forage where it was 
 most needed. A turkey, a pig, and a canteen of wine was 
 sent to headquarters with my compliments. They were 
 thankfully received and no questions asked. The next day 
 .we went after beef at Matthias Point. 
 
IN THE ARMY 127 
 
 I mention these little incidents, which I enjoyed very 
 much, as a few of the bright spots in the desert of a soldier's 
 life. It did not take me long to get a good knowledge of 
 the surrounding country. There were some good pickings 
 inside the lines, but I reserved them for stormy weather and 
 emergencies when we hadn't time to forage outside the 
 
 lines. 
 
 James Mason, an ex-Congressman, and brother to the 
 Mason who was with Slidel, when captured on their way to 
 England, had a fine residence and plantation in the vicinity, 
 well stocked with everything in the way of forage, corn, 
 hogs, etc., that was available when needed. Mr. Mason was 
 laid up at home with the gout, but was able to hobble around 
 a little. During a severe storm, two of the companies on 
 picket ran short of forage and provisions, and called upon 
 me to furnish them at once, as they were in want. I at 
 once made a detail of several men and marched them up 
 to Mr. Mason's stately mansion, and, knocking at the front 
 door, called for Mr. Mason. I found him at home and was 
 asked into the reception room to await the appearance of the 
 gentleman, and took the sergeant with me. We did not 
 have long to wait before he came hobbling in and wished 
 to know my business. I introduced myself, and told him in 
 consequence of the storm we were obliged to call upon him 
 for a fat steer, a load of corn, and some hay. With a groan, 
 he cried out, ''My God ! My God ! when will this thing cease. 
 Why, sir, the 8th Illinois regiment has nearly impoverished 
 me, and I have scarcely enough left to keep my family from 
 starving." *T am sorry, Mr. Mason, but our men and horses 
 have got to be supplied." His answer was, ''Oh, my God! 
 my God!" I turned to the sergeant and told him what to 
 take, and use Mr. Mason's oxen to haul the forage to the 
 
128 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 camps, and when ready to go, report to me, so that I could 
 give Mr. Mason a receipt. Mr. Mason asked me into the 
 dining room where a cheerful fire was burning in the fire- 
 place, told me to be seated, while he dropped into a large 
 easy chair, with the same old groan of ''My God! my God!" 
 He then turned to me and said, ''Lieutenant, please ring 
 that bell on the table for me," which I did, and presently a 
 colored servant appeared. He told her to bring up a bottle 
 of wine and a bottle of brandy with sugar and glasses, and 
 a plate of crackers and cheese, and ended with a groan of 
 "Oh, my God! my God!" Thinking perhaps that he was 
 suffering with pain, I asked if that was the case, but he said 
 not, only at times. At that moment the servant returned 
 with the refreshments, and after taking a small drink of 
 brandy, Mr. Mason seemed to brighten up very much. Our 
 conversation drifted away from war matters, and I found 
 him entertaining, genial, and a good conversationalist. He 
 seemed pleased with my company, and cordially asked me to 
 call again, "though," said he, with a merry twinkle in his 
 eyes, "not on the same errand." 
 
 "On the 1st of March we returned to camp, but were 
 ordered out on picket at the same place on the 9th for ten 
 days. I was detailed, as before, and looked over some new 
 country with varied results. One day we found a mill full 
 of flour and grain, owned by a rank old rebel whose love for 
 Jeff Davis was red hot. We could find no means of trans- 
 portation, and had to resort to carrying a sack of flour on 
 each horse. In returning to cam^p I stopped at a log cabin 
 not far from the mill to inquire the way to King George's 
 Court House. An elderly lady and two grown up daughters 
 came to the door and welcomed us heartily as Union soldiers. 
 This was a great surprise to us, as almost invariably the 
 
IN THE ARMY 129 
 
 people in that region were "secesh." We found that they 
 had been robbed of everything by rebel soldiers, and that 
 the owner of the mill refused to furnish them flour or meal 
 for any consideration, although he owed her son for work. 
 But this son was in the Union army, and sometimes sent 
 them a little money. We left them a sack of flour and 
 promised to come back the next day and attend to their 
 wants. I had my full complement of men back the next 
 day to the mill and called upon our rebel friend, the owner. 
 I always had a butcher with my squad, and that day had 
 two, whom I ordered to find and kill the largest hog about 
 the mill, and dress it while the rest of the boys loaded up 
 with cornmeal and flour. We were soon ready and went 
 back to the cabin occupied by the three Union ladies, and 
 gave them provisions enough to last them a year. I set 
 four or five of the boys at work hiding the flour under the 
 floor of the cabin, and had the hams and shoulders salted and 
 hung up in the chimney. While the boys were engaged in 
 this work, I sent the rest of the squad back to the mill to 
 load up for camp and return as soon as they could. The 
 old mill owner got out his old shotgun and threatened to 
 shoot, but the boys took away his gun and broke it up, and 
 informed him if those ladies were disturbed or robbed again, 
 no matter by whom, they would return and burn his house 
 down and send him a prisoner to the North. Whatever be- 
 came of them I do not know. We visited them two or three 
 weeks after, but they had not been molested. The old lady 
 and her daughters shed tears of joy, and blessed us over and 
 over again for our kindness. 
 
 We returned to camp on the 20th of March, but on the 
 27th were again ordered on picket. The weather was get- 
 ting good, and the roads better, but meat was getting scarce 
 
130 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 near our lines. I took my squad of picked men, and went 
 twenty miles down the neck before we found anything. 
 There we saw about fifty sheep in a field back of an old 
 house some little distance from the main road, with a high- 
 fenced lane leading up to the house. I halted the men and 
 explained to them what I wished them to do, but in any 
 event I expected to find a sheep with each man, except the 
 sergeant and two men men who would accompany me to the 
 house. These two men were to load up widi poultry. All 
 the commands I made while with the man of the house were 
 to mean exactly the opposite. I halted the men near the 
 house and approached the front steps, when a tall, fine-look- 
 ing old Virginia gentleman came out, about sixty-five years 
 of age. An elderly woman wearing a sun bonnet was be- 
 hind him. I found them to be bitter rebels. I soon heard 
 a shot in the direction of the sheep, which caused the old 
 man to tremble a little, and just then a chicken squawked. 
 I think I never saw a woman jump so high or give such an 
 unearthly yell as the old lady did. 'My chickens ! my chick- 
 ens! why don't you stop them, Mr. Officer?" and away she 
 went to the rescue. I yelled to the boys to let those chickens 
 alone, and just then five or six shots were heard in the direc- 
 tion of the sheep. It then dawned upon the old man that the 
 soldiers were after his sheep. He raved and swore, and 
 begged me to stop them, so I sent the sergeant to tell the boys 
 to stop killing those sheep, or I would put them under arrest. 
 Off went the sergeant, and I told the old man if he would be 
 quiet I would give him a receipt for all the sheep taken. 
 ''Damn you and your receipt, I want you and your damned 
 crew to let my sheep alone." The old man was pacing up and 
 down the walk in front of the house with arms flying and 
 Qursing the Union and all there was in it. Every now and 
 
IN THE ARMY 131 
 
 then a scream from the old woman was heard in the direc- 
 tion of the barn where she was after the boy with a pitch- 
 fork, all the while yelling for help, and calling the old man 
 a variety of bad names because he ignored her appeals for 
 help. It was not long before the sergeant reported "All 
 ready," and I bid the old man good day, and we started for 
 camp twenty miles away. On looking over my little column 
 I found every man had a sheep, and a score of chickens were 
 tied to the different saddles. Our march extended far into 
 the night before we got into camp, and the boys and horses 
 were nearly worn out. 
 
 A day or two afterwards I visited Mr. IVEason for more 
 corn and hay, but for some reason he seemed more cheerful, 
 and on my departure presented me with a bottle of his best 
 brandy. 
 
 The orders regarding foraging were very strict, but that 
 part of the country, being quite thickly settled, numerous 
 complaints were brought into headquarters. It was a little 
 hard on the boys to see pigs and chickens running loose 
 when on picket, munching hard tack and salt horse, and 
 often short of that. 
 
 Captain Vanderbilt, with Company L, was picketing on 
 the land of a long, lank, lean old rebel, who had several 
 good-sized pigs running loose, and the old man had early 
 applied for protection for his animals, which was granted, 
 and strict orders issued to Captain Van to see that they were 
 carried out. A few mornings after, the old man was early 
 at headquarters with a bitter complaint against Captain 
 Van's company for killing all his pigs. Of course the major 
 was very indignant that his orders had been disobeyed, and 
 if the gentleman would take a seat he would send for Captain 
 Vanderbilt to report to headquarters at once, and know the 
 
132 ONE OF. THE PEOPLE 
 
 / 
 reason why he should not pay for depredations committed 
 against orders. An orderly brought the guilty captain to 
 headquarters at once, and as the captain stepped inside the 
 tent he saluted, and asked Major Avery if he had sent for 
 him. "Yes, sir," said the major, and turning to the old 
 man asked him to repeat his complaint to the captain. The 
 old man did so in very bitter terms. After he was through, 
 Major Avery said in his pompous way, "Well, sir, Captain 
 Vanderbilt, is it true what this man says?" **It may be," 
 said the captain, rather meekly. **Well, sir," said the major, 
 "what have you to say about it, and the disobedience of 
 orders, sir?" "Well, I will tell you how it was, major," said 
 the captain, with a very long face. "You see, major, one of 
 my men was on picket in a very lonely place in the woods, 
 and during the night this soldier was attacked by this man's 
 pig, and the soldier got the best of it. That is all there is 
 to it." With a roar of laughter from everybody in the tent, 
 and a wave of the hand from the major, the captain went 
 back to the company. 
 
 Of course our picketing so much near King George's Court 
 House caused us to become acquainted with many of the 
 citizens, and among them were many handsome young 
 ladies, who, for the most part, were very enthusiastic rebels, 
 taunted us by singing rebel songs and pretended to hate 
 everything from the North, soldiers in particular. Still the 
 boys persisted in paying more or less attention to them, 
 notwithstanding their sneers. 
 
 There was a couple of young ladies, about twenty years 
 of age, living alone, about a mile from regimental head- 
 quarters. They were very good looking, but repulsed all 
 attempts on part of the soldiers to pay them any attentions. 
 Lieutenant Robb, of Company D, and myself proposed to. 
 
■^ IN THE ARMY i33 
 
 make them a visit. So we started out one cool evening, 
 having apprised them of our intention to call. Their house 
 was inside our lines, and we were not in much fear of bemg 
 disturbed. When we arrived, we hitched our horses to a 
 pole on top of two posts, high above their heads. It re- 
 minded me of a story I had read in a newspaper when 1 
 was a boy, and I told Robb that I would tell it in the course 
 of the evening if everything was agreeable. Much to our 
 surprise, we found the ladies awaiting our arrival with ap- 
 parent pleasure, as they gave us a cordial greeting and a 
 welcome that was very unusual from rebel girls that hated 
 the Yankees. They were very sociable, and soon made us 
 feel quite at home. Being a little anxious about our horses, 
 Robb went out to see if they were all safe, and when he re- 
 turned, called upon me for the story I had promised him, 
 and the ^irls said they would be delighted to hear it. I re- 
 marked that as it was a war story they might not relish it. 
 -Oh yes we would," said they. "Well," said I, "as it hap- 
 pened during the Revolutionary War, and all of us being 
 descendants of Revolutionary sires, it will not jar upon 
 either rebel or Union nerves. 
 
 "Well there was a brigade of American soldiers in winter 
 quarters up in Vermont during the Revolutionary War, and, 
 as a matter of course, all the young ladies in the immediate 
 vicinity were petted and courted by many of the officers 
 of the brigade. About a mile from headquarters of the 
 brigade lived a fairly well-to-do gentleman v/ho had a very 
 pretty daughter of about twenty summers, and being an only 
 child did pretty much as she pleased, and received quite a 
 number of the young officers as suitors, but somehow they all 
 dropped off but one, and he went often enough to make up 
 for the whole squad. He was a regular little dandy sort ot 
 
134 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 a fellow and put on more airs than a major-sjeneral should 
 or could. He was a lieutenant and so little esteemed in his 
 own company that his captain, by some means, got him put 
 on staff duty at headquarters. He was very proud and 
 dignified and put on more airs than ever, and would hardly 
 speak to his former comrades. He pretended to be a great 
 disciplinarian, dressed very neatly, but always had his nose 
 in other people's business. In fact, so disagreeable had he 
 made himself that he was thoroughly hated by the whole 
 brigade, both rank and file. This popinjay was the accepted 
 suitor of the beautiful daughter whom I spoke of and his 
 visits to the lady's home were almost of nightly occurrence. 
 He had a favorite pony that he always rode on his visits. 
 The house with the front porch stood back from the road 
 about one hundred yards, and on one side of the gate were 
 two posts, about as high as a man could reach, with a pole 
 extending from one post to the other, and fastened securely 
 to this pole were pins, at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
 over which a person could throw the reins of the bridle, 
 and secure the horse without the trouble of tying. To this 
 pole the young lieutenant would ride, throw the reins over 
 the pin, jump off and walk up to the house. The soldier 
 boys had been watching all his movements, and learned them 
 to a fraction. They knew just how long he would stay, and 
 exactly what he would do. The young lady always came 
 out on the porch, gave him a parting kiss and held the light 
 so that he could see his way down the path. A near neigh- 
 bor had a gentle old cow that was kept in the road most of 
 the time, and the boys conceived the idea of playing a trick 
 on the young lieutenant to take him down a peg or two. So 
 one dark, misty night, just after a heavy rain, the lieutenant 
 made his customary visit as usual, and left the pony under 
 
IN THE ARMY ^35 
 
 the pole. A regiment or more were lined up on each side 
 S the road from headquarters to the house, and the ne.gh- 
 bor-s cow was gently driven to the place where the pony 
 was standing, th'e pony removed, and the - qu.etly fj - 
 its place. The saddle of the pony was transferred to the back 
 o ?he cow, and the bridle securely fastened to her taxi, with 
 the reins over the pin. The pony was led away and every- 
 thing was ready, with the old cow in position and two ardent 
 m "Tandy by'lo keep here there until the l-uten-ts ar- 
 rival. The pair soon appeared on the porch, and with a k ss 
 they parted, she holding a tallow candle to hght the pathway. 
 He reached for the bridle reins, and felt the stirrup, and 
 vaulted into the saddle. With a jab of the spurs away went 
 the old cow with a bellow that aroused the whole hne The 
 boys yelled and fired off their pistols-but on went the old 
 cow, straight to the headquarters of the brigade. The lieu- 
 tenant lost his hat, but held on manfully during his back- 
 ward ride, probably the most astonished man that ever 
 fought for his country on the back of a cow The tor> 
 pleased the young ladies so well that they always met me 
 with a smile whenever I saw them. Robb and I spent a 
 number of pleasant evenings in their company. _ 
 
 Not far from where these girls lived was a young married 
 woman, whose husband was in the rebel army. One day 
 while passing her house she called me and asked me nto 
 her house, as she wished to have a talk with me. As I v a 
 in a hurry then, I excused myself, but P'-^™^^^ *o caU 
 some other time, which I did soon afterwards. She then 
 told me that her husband was in the rebel army, and fearin 
 he would be killed, she wanted him to be taken prisoner 
 If I would help her she would get hira to come home and 
 while he was there I was to capture him. I told her to go 
 
136 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ahead and let me know when he was there, and I would 
 attend to the rest. As we passed the house frequently, she 
 said that when I saw a white towel hanging out of her front 
 window, it would be a sign for me to call, so 1 watched for 
 the signal and one day found it hanging out. I called, and 
 she told me that the man would be there on a certain night, 
 and two others would come with him. Our pickets were 
 withdrawn the next day, but I waited for the time to come 
 when I could capture the man in accordance with previous 
 arrangement. This part of Virginia was new outside our 
 lines. 
 
 In the afternoon of the day that I was to capture the man, 
 I went to Major Avery, and asked him for a detail of 
 twenty-five men to go outside the lines. He told me to pick 
 my men. This I found difficult as over a hundred men 
 asked to go with me. I selected the men I thought would 
 be the most reliable and with two sergeants we passed out 
 of the lines. There was a bright moon and we made good 
 time. Knowing all the roads well I did not need a guide, 
 but sent an advance guard of three men and a sergeant two 
 hundred feet or so in front. The first house we went to 
 where I expected to find one of the men was securely locked 
 up. We quietly surrounded it, and I went to the front door 
 with a sergeant and knocked. The woman of the house 
 would not let us in. I gave orders to the men to bring a 
 rail to break down the door, when she concluded to let us 
 in. On going into a bed-room, I found evidence that two 
 persons had been there, but the woman declared that there 
 was no man in the house. We soon found another woman, 
 but no signs of a man. Procuring lights, I called a man to 
 stand guard below, while the sergeant and I explored the 
 upper regions of the house. No one could be found, but I 
 
IN THE ARMY II37 
 
 saw a barrel standing under an opening to a dark span in 
 the peak of the roof, near a bed-room, and concluded to see 
 what was there. Climbing on top of the barrel, and prodding 
 the hole with my sabre I heard a slight rustling and found 
 my man. "Come out of that," said I, "or I'll shoot." Hold 
 on," says he, "I'll come down," and down he came covered 
 with cobwebs. As we escorted him downstairs, the woman 
 cried out, "I didn't lie to you ; he went away as I said, but he 
 came back again." After mounting him behind one of the 
 boys, we proceeded to the next place where I had arranged 
 for capturing the husband. Surrounding the house as before, 
 I went to the door and knocked. The woman was up in 
 arms at once. I told her it was no use, I had the house sur- 
 rounded. The man was lying in bed, but we soon had him 
 on a horse, leaving a happy wife behind. 
 
 We returned to the regiment, and turned over our prison- 
 ers to the provost marshal. This ended our picketing and 
 picnicking on the neck between the Potomac and Rappahan- 
 nock rivers in the winter of 1862-3. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BATTLE FIELD. 
 
 From this time until the close of the war the regiment 
 was actively and continuously engaged in field service, much 
 of which was of a character to test its courage and powers 
 of endurance. Its movements and operations are fully record- 
 ed in Preston's History of the Tenth New York Cavalry, and 
 I will omit further accounts of my personal experiences and 
 adventures while connected with it until reaching events im- 
 mediately preceding my capture at the battle of St. Mary's 
 Church, June 24, 1864, with the exception of my sketch of 
 the important battle of Brandy Station, written for the regi- 
 mental history referred to above, and a few anecdotes to il- 
 lustrate some of the amusing, as well as tragic scenes that 
 occur in a soldier's life to occasionally break its monotony. 
 
 As acting adjutant, regimental quartermaster, brigade 
 provost marshal, etc., during this period, previous to my 
 being commissioned as captain, in July, 1863, I had varied 
 and responsible duties to perform that enabled me to par- 
 ticipate in affairs outside of the routine of mere company 
 duty. 
 
 BATTLE OF BRANDY STATION. 
 
 At the time of the battle of Brandy Station, I was actiiig 
 as adjutant of the regiment. On the 8th of June, 1863, our 
 
 J38 
 
THE BATTLE FIELD 139 
 
 regiment, with the entire division-the third commanded by 
 General Gregg-was moved to the vicinity o Kelly s Ford, 
 and bivouacked. There was but little sleep, however. The 
 men were animated with the prospect of meetmg the rebel 
 cavalrv in a fair open field fight which the morrow prom- 
 ised They had never been engaged as an unbroken whole, 
 and now an opportunity was to be presented for displaymg 
 the qualities of the regiment as a unit. There had been com- 
 panies and detachments from it engaged at various times 
 and places, and the men had acquitted themselves in all of 
 these isolated cases with credit and increased their desire 
 for a chance to see what the regiment could do united, it 
 probably never counted so many officers and men in any 
 other engagement, nor was the esprit-de-corps ever better. 
 I have never witnessed, before or after, more enthusiasm 
 and confidence than the men exhibited on this occasion. 
 There was a positive eagerness for the meeting. The num- 
 ber of men in the regiment who participated m the battle 
 was about five hundred and they were led by one m whom 
 they had the most perfect confidence, Liuetenant-Colone 
 Irvine Every man responded promptly to the call to fall 
 in" earlv in the morning on that memorable 9th of June, 
 1863 The spirit of enthusiasm and good cheer pervaded the 
 entire command of General Gregg as far as my observation 
 extended, presaging the grand results which were to be re- 
 corded of it that day. We crossed the Ford without oppo- 
 sition and marched straight for Brandy Station where the 
 rebel cavalry was known to be camped. The booming of 
 Buford's guns up the river advised us that he had already 
 encountered the enemy. Our advance guard met with no 
 opposition until we were near the field which was so soon 
 to be rendered historical as the battle ground between two 
 
I40 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 powerful cavalry corps of the opposing armies. When we 
 reached the edge of the timber, about three-fourths of a 
 mile from Brandy Station, we were halted and drawn up in 
 squadron fronts, preparatory to charging into the open, 
 where the rebels were rapidly concentrating. Occasional 
 shells were dropped around us from the enemy's batteries 
 on Fleetwood Hill, but they caused us no damage or un- 
 easiness. Our second brigade, under Colonel Wyndham, had 
 been engaged and met with some reverses. While awaiting 
 orders our boys manifested the utmost restlessness and 
 anxiety to engage in the battle. The order came. The 
 voice of Lieutenant-Colonel Irvine rose clear and firm — 
 "Attention ! Forward ! March !" and as soon as we had 
 cleared the woods, "Trot, march, guide left!" How the 
 hot blood coursed through my veins at that moment. Who 
 can describe the feelings of a man on entering into a charge ? 
 How exhilarating, yet how awful ! The glory of success 
 in a charge is intoxicating. One forgets everything, even 
 personal safety in the one grand thought of vanquishing the 
 enemy. We were in for it now, and the nerves were strung 
 to the highest tension. 
 
 When about two-thirds of the distance intervening be- 
 tween the starting point and the railroad had been passed, 
 the command comes "Column, walk, draw sabers, trot!" 
 The regiment was well in hand, the formation perfect. The 
 enemy in small numbers advanced from the hill to oppose 
 us. As a part of our line was crossing the railroad. Colonel 
 Kirkpatrick with some staff officers passed us and ordered 
 Colonel Irvine to charge to the right of the hill. Colonel 
 Irvine immediately gave the command, "Gallop! Charge!" 
 and the regiment swept up the hillside where they were met 
 by a greatly superior force that had been concentrated on 
 
THE BATTLE FIELD 141 
 
 that point as the key to the situation. It was a hand-to- 
 hand struggle now. Here many of our brave boys went 
 down. Colonel Irvine was on the left of the leading squad- 
 ron, and I was at his left. The rebel line that swept down 
 upon us came in splendid order, and when the two lines 
 were about to close in they opened a rapid fire upon us. 
 Then followed an indescribable clashing and slashing, bang- 
 ing and yelling. My entire time was taken up in taking care 
 of Lieutenant Porter at this time, and the rapidly moving 
 panorama left no distinct recollection of anvthing that oc- 
 curred in particular, outside of my individual experience. 
 Two or three stalwart rebels crowded past me, intent on the 
 capture of Colonel Irvine. I was of apparent little account 
 in their desperate efforts to reach him. We were now so 
 mixed up with the rebels that every man was fighting desper- 
 ately to maintain the position until assistance could be 
 brought forward. The front squadron broke to the right 
 and left to allow the rear squadrons to come upon the enemy 
 fresh. In an instant everything was mixed up and confused, 
 and Colonel Irvine a prisoner. I made desperate efforts to 
 attempt his recapture, but it was of no avail. Every man 
 had all he could do in looking after himself. I found myself 
 with but two or three of our men near, and concluded it 
 would be best to release myself from the awkward position 
 I was in as soon as possible. Just then a big rebel bore 
 down upon me with his sabre raised. I parried the blow 
 with my sabre, which, however, was delivered with such 
 force as to partially break the parry, and left its mark 
 across my back, and nearly unhorsed me. One of our boys 
 probed my assailant from the rear, and he was dismounted. 
 It was plain that I must get out then, if ever. The only 
 avenue of escape was over a high embankment of the rail- 
 
142 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 road and a rebel squadron was advancing on that point, not 
 far away. The rebel commander gave orders not to kill my 
 horse, probably deeming me already a prisoner. Two jumps 
 of the horse brought me to the top of the embankment. 
 Every rebel in that squadron fired at me, but strangely 
 enough, the only bullet that found its mark was one that 
 burned my upper lip so badly that I thought that it had been 
 carried away. But the next jump of the horse was over 
 the embankment and out of their reach. I immediately 
 made for an approaching column which I discovered in the 
 nick of time to be Johnnies and changed my course. I saw 
 Lieutenant Robb ahead of m.e, getting out of a ditch. My 
 horse jumped the ditch, over the rear of Robb's horse and 
 then a fence. Not more than fifty feet from this fence Robb 
 was killed. He was a brave and enterprising officer. I had 
 learned to respect him for his sterling qualities as an officer 
 and a man. 
 
 I finally reached the regiment in safety; others, like my- 
 self, had become separated, coming in later, and the com- 
 mand was reorganized by Major Avery, who was left in 
 command by the capture of Colonel Irvine. Captain Van- 
 derbilt, with Company L, was the last to come in and was 
 chased by rebels, but lost no men. The battle of Brandy 
 Station was fought by mounted cavalry entirely, and was 
 the greatest cavalry battle of the war. With me it was 
 peculiar in many ways. Acting as adjutant I had no one 
 to command, and after the charge had no one to command 
 me. I went into the fight with less fear than any other 
 battle before or after. The excitement of the charge, the 
 falling of my horse, and his almost instantaneous jump to his 
 feet again and off for a point of safety, the bullets flying 
 about us like bees, it was indeed most exciting, and I en- 
 
THE BATTLE FIELD 143 
 
 joyed it better than any battle that I was ever in. My horse 
 saved me from capture, and I got back to the east side of the 
 Rappahannock in good order, except my back was pretty 
 sore, with a blood blister about fourteen inches long, which 
 the rebel gave me in our hand-to-hand encounter. 
 
 A MONUMENT TO JENNIE WADE. 
 
 While awaiting orders, July 4, after the battle of Gettys- 
 burg, some of the men got into the town and brought back 
 the news of the death of Jenny Wade by a rebel bullet while 
 making bread for the Union soldiers. She was well known 
 in our regiment and better known to me than to any of the 
 others, as I used to spend many pleasant evenings with her 
 at her home, when we were camped at Gettysburg in '61-2, 
 as I have already said. The following article which I found 
 in a recent newspaper will be of interest in connection with 
 this event : "A monument to Jenny Wade, the brave Penn- 
 sylvania girl, who was killed at the battle of Gettysburg, 
 July 3, 1863, will soon be dedicated. The fund for the same 
 has been raised by the Women's Relief Corps of Iowa. 
 Jenny Wade was one of the heroines of the Civil War. as 
 well known in her humble way, and as well loved as Barbara 
 Frietchie. She it was who was killed by a stray bullet of the 
 Confederates while makmg bread for the Union soldiers in 
 the little brick house of her sister, in the stormiest and most 
 dangerous part of the three days' battleground. Jenny 
 Wade was only a young girl, but her sacrifice will always be 
 remembered and perpetuated in the history of that sublime 
 struggle. The first day of the battle she drew and carried 
 water from the windlass well and filled the canteens of the 
 Union soldiers, amid the shrieking of shells and the awful 
 
144 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 din of bullets and battle. She never swerved from her will- 
 ing task of giving the cup of cold water to those brave men. 
 Early, even before it was light, on the third day she was 
 astir, getting in wood to heat the brick oven to bake bread 
 for the soldiers, who were wearied with their two days of 
 Titanic struggle. Very soon there was a call at the door 
 for something to eat and she turned to her mother, saying, 
 "I will make biscuits if you will prepare the fire in the 
 stove," and turned to go about her work with a will, but be- 
 fore she had done this a minie ball from an enemy's gun 
 crashed through the window, and killed the brave girl in 
 her sister's home. On the morning of July 3d this heroine 
 paid the price of loyalty with her life. She was buried on 
 the evening of July 4th by soldiers' hands, in a coffin pre- 
 pared for a Confederate colonel who had fallen in battle. 
 For thirty-eight years her grave has remained unmarked, but 
 the Iowa Women's Relief Corps will dedicate a monument 
 on the spot some time in September after the National G. 
 A. R. Camp at Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 The movem.ent for a monument started in 1899 at the 
 close of the National Encampment at Philadelphia, when the 
 Iowa wom.en spent a day at Gettysburg, and resolved to 
 render homage to the mem.ory of the brave Pennsylvania 
 girl. The money is now all raised. The monument is to be 
 of Barry granite and Italian marble, and will cost eight 
 hundred dollars. Other States had the opportunity, but to 
 Iowa will be given the credit for the work. On the monu- 
 ment will be suitable inscriptions. , 
 
 On the front will be, "J^""i^ Wade, killed while making 
 bread for the Union soldiers." 
 
 On the reverse side, "Erected by the Women's Relief 
 Corps of Iowa A. D. 1901.** 
 
THE BATTLE FIELD 145 
 
 One side will bear the words, "Whatsoever God willeth, 
 must be, though a nation mourn." ^^ 
 
 On the other side will be, "She hath done what she could. 
 
 THE FIGHT AT SULPHUR SPRINGS. 
 
 Early on the morning of the 12th of October the sharp 
 crack of carbines in front brought the whole regiment into 
 line, and we were ordered to support one of our batteries 
 which was posted on the heights, west of the ford, and the 
 old burned-down Sulphur Springs Hotel. Very soon Gen- 
 eral Gregg ordered Colonel Avery to move the regiment 
 across the river, go to the right about a mile, and draw up 
 in line behind a strip of woods, then send one squadron to 
 deploy as skirmishers, and advance to support them. The 
 squadron chosen was the one that I commanded, and my 
 orders were to advance until we met the enemy, engage 
 them, and the regiment would follow us. We met the 
 enemy's skirmishers in the woods, at the top of the hill, and I 
 ordered a charge. The hill was so steep on the other side 
 that when we got started down we could not stop, and we 
 all rushed headlong into the head of Lee's army which was 
 rapidly advancing. I gave the order for every man to take 
 care of himself. The enemy did not seem to want to kill, 
 but to capture us. I know not what others did, and speak 
 only for myself, and for my own actions. Every rebel I 
 passed tried to catch my horse, but I managed to dodge 
 them, and, spurring my horse and fighting with my sabre, I 
 made for their left beyond which was level ground. As 
 soon as I got clear of them they began to shoot at me and 
 the bullets kept up their music in my ears until I got out of 
 sight. By going north about a quarter of a mile I got 
 
146 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 around the hill that we had advanced over, and turned to 
 the right, going southeast, to get to the ford that we had 
 crossed in coming over. It was a run of a mile or more, but 
 it was my only chance to get to the river and over to our 
 side. As I rounded the hill I saw no enemy, and I de- 
 termined to make the ford as near direct as possible and as 
 quickly as I could get there. 
 
 I had not advanced far before I came in front of the 
 enemy's line of advance skirmishers who were about twenty 
 feet apart, and every one of them took a shot at me. I was 
 about two hundred feet from them, and as they advanced 
 kept me about that distance from them for the whole mile 
 that I ran the gauntlet. 
 
 With my arm over my horse's neck, I screened myself as 
 much as I could behind the horse as he ran. The bullets 
 went zip, zip, every second, and some came very close, but 
 I could hear the rebels call out to each other, "Save the 
 horse, save the horse," which was fortunate for me, as I 
 reached the ford in safety without a scratch on man or 
 horse. 
 
 Talk about Sheridan's ride ! That was the ride of my 
 life, although a short one. I know that my horse carried me 
 rapidly, but it seemed hours to me. On reaching the ford 
 I met General Gregg, and he said, ''Very narrow escape, 
 captain." Avery was also nearby, and I reported to him 
 that I had lost my company if not the whole squadron. 
 "No," he said, "there are some of your boys on the hill,'* 
 pointing where I could find them, and I soon joined them 
 with a small nucleus of the regiment, probably seventy-five 
 men altogether. "Hello, Captain!" said the boys, when I 
 reached them, "we thought the rebs had you sure," and I 
 had to relate how it all happened. Others came in one by 
 
one 
 
 THE BATTLE FIELD 147 
 
 ^.x.. Avery came up and we were marched out on the pike 
 toward Warrenton, a half mile or more, in rear of the divis- 
 ion. The rebs were steadily advancing, and a good many 
 had crossed the river, and fighting was going on all along 
 the line. The ist N. J. Calvary were fighting in our im- 
 mediate front and we were drawn up in line to support them. 
 Our boys drove them back across the river, but it took 
 them till after dark to do it. 
 
 RE-ENLISTMENT AND FURLOUGH. 
 
 Early in January, 1864, Colonel Irvine came to camp with' 
 an order for the re-enlistment of the old eight companies, 
 provided three-fourths of the men would re-enlist for three 
 years, in which case they would be given a thirty days' fur- 
 lough. Lieutenant Hayes was appointed recruiting officer 
 and immediatelv began the work of re-enlistment. In this 
 I took a deep interest, and was the first captain to recom- 
 mend the same, and to induce the men of my company to re- 
 enlist. I soon had three-fourths of my company enrolled, 
 being the first of the old companies to do so. It was not 
 long before the other companies had the necessary three- 
 fourths, and a special order was issued, as follows : 
 
 Headquarters, A. O. P., 
 
 January 12, 1864. 
 
 Special Orders No. 11. 
 
 extract. 
 Three-fourths of the following organizations having re- 
 enlisted as veteran volunteers under the provisions of gen- 
 eral orders of the War Department, governing the subject, 
 the men so re-enlisted, as well as those who have less than 
 
148 . ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 fifteen months to serve, who have signed the required agree- 
 ment, will proceed in a body with their officers to their re- 
 spective States, and on arriving therein, the commanding 
 officer will report through the Governor of the State to the 
 superintendent of the recruiting service for further instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 The quartermaster's department will furnish the necessary 
 transportation. Companies A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and non- 
 commissioned staff, Tenth New York Cavalry, three-fourths 
 of the enlisted men, the lieutenant-colonel, one major, adju- 
 tant, quartermaster, and commissary will accompany the 
 battalion. 
 
 By command of Major-General Sedgwick. 
 
 S. Williams, Asst. Adj.-General. 
 
 Captain Vanderbilt, of Company L., was placed in com- 
 mand of those that remained in camp. On the 15th of Janu- 
 ary we left Turkey Run for Washington and home. 
 
 We arrived at Elmira, N. Y., on the evening of the 19th, 
 where we broke ranks, and individually and collectively de- 
 parted for our respective homes, where we were received 
 with open arms and a glorious welcome. 
 
 We were ordered to report at Elmira, February 21, 1864, 
 giving us a full month at home, which was enjoyed to the 
 best of our abilit3\ 
 
 It is hardly necessary to go into details, but, of course, 
 our sweethearts got their full share of attention during our 
 furlough, and the 21st of February came too soon. Renewed 
 pledges of affection were exchanged, and we went forth once 
 more to save our glorious country and preserve the Union 
 and the Flag with our lives if need be. We had become 
 veterans, and knew what war meant, and were bound to 
 conquer or die. We believed that the backbone of the rebel- 
 
THE BATTLE FIELD 149 
 
 lion was broken at Gettysburg, yet there were powerful rebel 
 armies in the field, and no signs of peace had come. 
 
 Grant had been called to the command of all our armies, 
 and we believed that we had at last got the right man in the 
 right place. There was not half the discouragement among 
 the soldiers as we found among the people at home. As 
 for myself I had never given it a thought, except that we 
 would be victorious at the end. Aly health was good when 
 we reported at Elniira on the 21st of February, and I felt 
 glad to take command of my old boys of Company G again, 
 and I think most of the officers and men felt equally ready 
 and willing to accept the fortunes of war again, though it 
 was hard to part with the old folks at home. 
 
 On the 29th of February the regiment left Elmira for New 
 York, and thence back to our old camp on Turkey Run, Va., 
 where we arrived on the 6th of March and were welcomed 
 back to our old quarters by Captain Vanderbilt and the men 
 left under his care when we went home. 
 
 A RELIGIOUS REVIVAL. 
 
 Nothing of mom.ent had occurred during our absence ex- 
 cept a great revival of religion in some of the regiments of 
 the division. A characteristic story of Vanderbilt and our 
 chaplain was related to me in substance, as follows : One 
 fine afternoon the chaplain came riding into camp and 
 called at headquarters of the regiment, and inquired for 
 Captain Vanderbilt, who came forth from his tent singing 
 out, "Hello, chaplain, what's up?" "Say," said the chaplain, 
 'T have just returned from one of the Pennsylvania regi- 
 ments where we have been having a glorious revival meet- 
 ing which you know has been going on for several days, 
 
150 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and to-day wc have baptized twenty-one soldiers. Just 
 think of it! Now, captain, don't you think we had better 
 try to get up a revival in our regiment and push the good 
 work along?" '*What regiment did you say, chaplain?" 
 **Why, the i6th Pennsylvania Regiment." ''Well — yes. I 
 think we had better do something. What do you propose, 
 chaplain?" "Well, captain, suppose you call a meeting of 
 all the companies at headquarters, and I will address them 
 and we will see what can be done." **Do you want the 
 meeting right away, chaplain?" "Yes, just as well now as 
 any time," said the chaplain, highly delighted with his suc- 
 cess thus far. "Orderly, inform the sergeant-major to re- 
 port at headquarters at once, and bring a camp stool for the 
 chaplain." The sergeant-major very soon reported, and 
 Captain Vanderbilt ordered him to notify commanders of all 
 the companies to send ten men to headquarters at once, and 
 report without arms. Very soon after the squads from each 
 company began to report, and the captain had them drawn 
 up in line, until there were sixty men in line. All that came 
 after were ordered to return to their quarters. When the 
 men were all ready for marching by twos, the captain turned 
 to the chaplain and, with a wave of his hand, said : "There, 
 chaplain, are sixty good men which I turn over to you to be 
 taken down to the creek and be baptized. No damned Penn- 
 sylvania regiment is going to get ahead of the Tenth New 
 York." 
 
 The above was an actual occurrence and is only one of the 
 many amusing scenes that seemed to delight the redoubtable 
 Captain Vanderbilt whenever a chance was presented to per- 
 petrate a joke. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 
 
 ON the morning of the 24th day of June, just as the un 
 was peeping up blood red through the mist we were takmg 
 r hurried bite of hard tack and coiifee, when orders were 
 Len to hurry up and be ready to advance, as our pickets 
 were already fighting, but we had no idea that we were to get 
 severely whipped that day for the first time dur.ng the war. 
 We were soon on the move, and when the head of the column 
 reached St. Mary's Church it met the rebel cavalry, who were 
 easily driven back, but kept up skirmishnag all day untd 
 three P.M., when the whole rebel cavalry corps came down 
 upon us in three lines of battle, dismounted m front, and 
 mounted on both flanks-intending to make a clean sweep 
 of the second division of the cavalry corps. 
 
 On that morning I was not well and hardly able to take 
 
 command of my squadron. Surgeon Clark sa,d to ««, C^" 
 
 tain, ni give you an excuse for to-day .f >^u don t feel able 
 
 to go into the fight," but I declined the oflfer and prepared 
 
 mv men for the conflict. We were in a piece of woods and 
 
 the rebels were in plain sight in our front beyond the imber. 
 
 They were busy constructing rude breastworks, as though 
 
 they were expecting an attack by us. Suddenly we saw 
 
 them coming over their dismantled works m *ree hnes o 
 
 battle We opened on them with artillery and small arms 
 
152 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 which checked them for a moment or two, but their officers 
 urged them on, and they were slowly overpowering us by 
 their superior numbers. We could hear heavy firing on both 
 flanks as soon as they advanced to our front, indicating that 
 we were simultaneously attacked on all parts of our line. 
 I was on the right of our regiment and was being slowly 
 pushed back. I called for support, and Captain Vanderbilt, 
 with his squadron (Companies A and L), promptly joined 
 us, but the rebels pushed steadily on, outnumbering us three 
 to one. We held on till it was almost a hand-to-hand con- 
 flict. Our fire was so hot that the rebels were checked for 
 a few moments, and we fell back about fifty feet to a fence. 
 Then the order came to retire, and I saw the boys on my 
 left on the run to the rear. While we were so hard pressed 
 I lost sight of Lieutenant Hinckly, who was on the right of 
 my squadron in some thick underbrush, and I was anxious 
 about him. Crawling along an old log fence I found Lieu- 
 tenant John P. White (he was then sergeant) on our ex- 
 treme right firing away as fast as he could. Asking him if 
 he had seen Hinckly, I lay down by his side for a moment, 
 then crawled farther to the right so I could look on the 
 right of the bushes, when White jumped up and started for 
 the rear, singing out to me, saying, ''Come on Cap., the 
 boys have all gone back." "All right," said I, with a glance 
 at our battery that still retained its position. I started to- 
 wards the battery, nearly exhausted. From a little knoll I 
 saw that if I kept on I would be killed by our own guns, and 
 started to make a detour to keep out of range, when J 
 stumbled and fell near a fence. When I rose, twelve John- 
 nies jumped up from behind the fence, and v/ith all their 
 guns bearing on me, cried out, "Surrender, you damned 
 Yank!" The rebels were from Wickam's Brigade of Vir- 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 153 
 
 ginia Cavalry. I was immediately robbed of everything in 
 my pockets, my hat and boots, and would have been stripped 
 naked except through the interference of one of the party, 
 who ordered me to follow him to the rear. Reaching the 
 edge of a piece of woods, under the hottest lire I ever ex- 
 perienced, I was ordered to sit down by the side of a lean, 
 lank, slab-sided six-footer, who was firing away from behind 
 a small tree at our boys as fast as he could. I had no sooner 
 placed myself by him than I had the pleasure of seeing him 
 shot through the body and fall back dead. Another man 
 took charge of me, and I was started for the rear again, con- 
 tinually meeting bloodthirsty ragamuffins who wished to put 
 an end to my existence by shooting me down like a dog; 
 but the remonstrance of my guard prevailed, and I was 
 safely conducted to the rear. Never before had I wished for 
 death. As I saw the rebels swept down by our shells, grape 
 and canister, I wished for some missile to hurl me into eter- 
 nity, which I considered preferable to life in a Southern 
 prison. After being started on our way to the rear, we were 
 constantly meeting rebels advancing, and one of our shells 
 burst about four feet above my head and killed four rebels 
 outright and wounded four more. Strange it was to me 
 that I should be so cool and unconcerned as to my fate 
 while I was escorted here and there under a terrible fire 
 from our batteries. 
 
 After being marched about, insulted and abused for a 
 couple of hours, my feet already swollen and sore, we 
 reached the headquarters of Captain Butler, the provost 
 marshal of Butler's brigade of South Carolinians. Here I 
 found half a dozen of our officers and enlisted men huddled 
 together, with a strong guard placed over them. Hungry, 
 tired and sleepy, we passed the night. Colonel Huey, of the 
 
154 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry, was my bedfellow on a half 
 blanket spread on the ground. In the morning we were 
 a miserable, dilapidated-looking set of Yanks. Captain But- 
 ler said that he had nothing to eat himself, or he would give 
 us something. None of us believed him. He seemed very 
 much elated by reading to us in one of their seven-by-nine 
 newspapers an account of our officers — prisoners of war — 
 being placed under fire at Charleston, S. C, by the rebels. 
 Early in the morning, June 25th, without a mouthful to eat, 
 we were marched to General Butler's headquarters, and the 
 general sent one of his aides out for the best hat worn by 
 the Yankee officers. The aide could find none suitable for 
 his generalship. On our march from Captain Butler's head- 
 quarters to General Butler's we passed the field hospital of 
 the St. Mary's Church battle, and I saw more dead and 
 wounded as we passed than all the men and officers we had 
 in our brigade, or rather our two brigades. We learned 
 from the rebels that our two brigades had fought the whole 
 cavalry corps of Lee's army, consisting of eight brigades. 
 They did not capture a single piece of artillery, but our 
 losses in dead and prisoners were heavy. It was the only 
 time I was with the regiment when it got whipped. 
 
 After collecting all their prisoners together they had one 
 hundred and seven enlisted men and officers. Captain But- 
 ler remained in charge of us, and we started at once for 
 Richmond at a brisk pace. As I was without a hat, I ap- 
 pealed to one of the guards, and he found a dilapidated 
 specimen, which he gave me, and it served to protect my 
 head a little from the burning sun. By ten a.m. the sand 
 became so hot that it burned my feet to a blister. One of the 
 rebel soldiers got me a pair of old boots, which were a little 
 better than none, but did me some service in taking the skin 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 155 
 
 off my feet in a dozen new places. Long before night I was 
 unable to walk, and they allowed me to ride a horse for a 
 mile or two, then get off and hobble along again, while some 
 other prisoner, in as bad a condition, took a ride. We suf- 
 fered intolerably for the want of water, being allowed to 
 drink only at the streams when we came to them. We were 
 marched to Savage Station, on the York River Railroad, 
 making twenty-five miles from our starting-point in the 
 morning. No sooner had we dropped to the ground than 
 all were fast asleep, completely tired out, and famishing for 
 want of food and water. In the morning we were promised 
 something to eat, but got nothing. They did not give us 
 even water we wanted to drink. About ten a.m., the 25th, 
 we were placed on board a train and taken to Richmond. 
 In less than an hour we were drawn up in line in front of 
 Libby prison and marched in, one at a time, and thoroughly 
 searched by the notorious Dick Turner. All money and 
 everything of value were taken. I managed to preserve my 
 pocket knife, which, in some way, was overlooked when I 
 was taken. 
 
 A full description of this prison has been given so many 
 
 times that it is needless for me to repeat it. We found 
 
 there about one hundred officers, mostly from the Second 
 
 Corps, and about two thousand four hundred men confined 
 
 there. Having been fifty-four hours without anything to 
 
 eat, we were suffering greatly for want of food. Between 
 
 twelve and one o'clock rations were brought in— bean soup 
 
 in tubs that was hardly fit to put hogs' feed in, and meat 
 
 that emitted an odor almost sickening. My ration consisted 
 
 of a piece of corn bread three inches long by two and a half 
 
 wide, and about the same thickness; a piece of spoiled pork 
 
 half an inch thick and two inches square; one-half gill of 
 
156 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 bean soup, mostly water, twenty beans in it, perhaps, and 
 rotten at that. This dose, I was informed, would be repeated 
 each day at the same hour. Starvation began to stare me in 
 the face. Our stay at Libby was of only three days' dura- 
 tion, but it was long enough to cover us with vermin that 
 seemed more hungry, if possible, than ourselves, and with 
 which we never parted company while guests of the South- 
 ern Confederacy. 
 
 On the 29th of June we were started for Lynchburg, Va., 
 which we reached the next day, June 30th, after a most ex- 
 hausting ride in cattle cars, with nothing to eat or drink. 
 Some of the officers traded their shirts for a small loaf of 
 bread. 
 
 About noon, on the day of our arrival at Lynchburg, we 
 were much surprised by receiving four days' cooked rations, 
 consisting of nearly a pound of bacon and one dozen crack- 
 ers, something similar to the hard bread used by our army. 
 Lynchburg is situated on the south side of the James River, 
 and built mostly on a side hill. At that time it was a vast 
 hospital, every building being filled with sick and wounded 
 soldiers. During the afternoon we took up our line of 
 march across the country for Danville, Va., distant seventy- 
 two miles, the Weldon railroad tracks having been torn up 
 by our raiders. More prisoners were added to our column, 
 swelling our number to one hundred and twenty-five officers 
 and twenty-five hundred men. We were marched four or 
 five miles and camped — that is, we were allowed to lie on 
 the ground and eat our rations. 
 
 What rations we had were of good material, and I ate 
 half of mine the first night without being satisfied. Early 
 next morning, July ist, we were gathered up like a lot of 
 sheep and started on the road. The weather was very hot. 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 157 
 
 and we were allowed to rest only once in three or four miles, 
 and then but a few minutes. I think I never suffered on any 
 trip as on this. My feet were covered with sores, and the 
 bottoms were almost one entire blister, making each step 
 but little less than the horrors of the Inquisition. To strag- 
 gle in the rear was certain death. All the cavalrymen and 
 officers suft'ered incredibly, but the infantry were more used 
 to marching, and stood it much better, except those that 
 were barefoot. One poor fellow, who was sick, stopped by 
 the roadside in an old tobacco house. He was found by the 
 rear guard and coolly shot, and his body rifled of everything, 
 simply because he could go no further, and the guards 
 boasted of the deed. Others met a similar fate each day. 
 
 After marching twenty-five miles we reached the Staun- 
 ton River, where we camped as the night before, with the 
 privilege of washing in the river, which was a great luxury. 
 That night it seem.ed to me impossible that I could march 
 another mile, but, with a full determination to endure to 
 the end, I summoned all the perseverance, energy and forti- 
 tude that I possessed and managed to keep up with the col- 
 umn the next day, although illness was added to the fatigue. 
 We were a great curiosity to the citizens, scarcely any of 
 whom had seen a live Yankee before. Every male above 
 ten years of age, and under seventy, was out to help guard 
 us with shotguns and pistols, but they seemed to feel dubious 
 in regard to their future prospects. Women and children 
 composed nine-tenths of the population through the country 
 we passed. On Sunday, the 3d, in passing through the little 
 village of Spottsylvania Court House, the full congregation 
 of one of the churches lined both sides of the street. With 
 true Yankee spirit the column sang ''The Star-Spangled 
 Banner" in good style, as well as other patriotic songs. I 
 
158 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 noticed two or three very good-looking young ladies shed- 
 ding tears. The whole congregation listened and looked on 
 in silence, never having seen so many Yanks before. 
 
 On the 4th of July we arrived at Danville, Va., on the 
 Dan River, worn out and half starved, our rations having 
 o-iven out the dav before. Upon our arrival at Danville we 
 were marched into a miserable, dirty, red-brick building and 
 packed so tight that there was not room for all to lie down 
 at the same time. The building had been used as a prison 
 pen before and never cleaned. The floor was covered with 
 vermin, the weather very hot, and the terrible stench arising 
 from the debris of former occupants made a gloomy pros- 
 pect for the future, as we supposed that we were to stay 
 here for some time. In a couple of hours we were greatly 
 surprised by being furnished with a tolerably fair meal of 
 corn bread and very good boiled fresh pork, which was far 
 the best I had received since I was taken prisoner. Near 
 the close of the dav we were ordered out of the building and 
 marched to the railroad, and allowed to lie on the ground 
 until nearly midnight, when we were packed into box cars 
 used for transporting cattle and prisoners. Fifty men were 
 packed in each car and the doors closed. 
 
 The heat was intense and we came near being suffocated, 
 and, not being allowed any water, our sufferings before 
 morning were almost intolerable. Some of the boys cut a 
 few small holes in the car with their knives to let in a little 
 more air, but it was not enough to do any perceptible good. 
 In the morning, July 5th, we arrived at Greensboro, S. C, 
 where we were taken out to change cars and receive rations. 
 The rations were hard bread and bacon, very poor and very 
 scanty. After receiving our morsel we were packed as 
 before and started south again. Cramped, crowded and 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE t^g 
 
 choking for water, we finally reached Salisbury, N. C, 
 where one of the boys was knocked down and kicked by one 
 of the guards for speaking to me as he was passing by the 
 car. This boy belonged to my regiment. I remonstrated, 
 and the guard informed me, as well as the poor boy who 
 was so badly abused, that he would shoot us both if we said 
 another word. We stopped a short time at this place, and 
 before night were unloaded at Charlotte, N. C, and marched 
 into an open field and a strong guard placed around us. It 
 was certainly a treat to be allowed once more to stretch our- 
 selves at full length on mother earth, which, in comparison 
 with our previous night's rest, was a great luxury, and we 
 fully enjoyed it. The next day was not quite so pleasant, in 
 the hot sun, with no shelter, although there was plenty of 
 shade a few rods away. The next night was passed on the 
 same ground in the same manner. No rations were given 
 us, and we were informed that we would receive none until 
 we arrived at Columbia, S. C. On the morning of the 7th 
 we left Charlotte, packed as before, suffering all day with 
 heat, hunger and thirst. 
 
 Early in the evening we reached Columbia, where we were 
 allowed the privilege of lying on the ground again in the 
 open air, but we received nothing to eat. On the 8th we 
 left Columbia for Augusta, Ga., packed in the same manner, 
 a cursing, starving, miserable set of beings. No person that 
 has never experienced the want of food or water can form 
 any adequate idea of the feeling one has to undergo during 
 such a trial. It seems a wonder that we lived through the 
 day. Late at night we arrived at Augusta, Ga., almost ex- 
 hausted. Two or three of the prisoners were carried off 
 dying from the effects of our treatment thus far. On the 
 morning of the 9th, before leaving Augusta, a miserable 
 
i6o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 pittance of food was doled out to us, which we devoured in- 
 stantly, but it did not appease our hunger. Here we were 
 counted and packed as usual, only worse, fifty-five being in a 
 single car. At Augusta I traded my gold pen, that I had 
 managed to secrete so far, for a half pound of beef, for I 
 was on the verge of starvation. This I ate raw, and no mor- 
 sel ever seemed so sweet. This time we were boxed for 
 twenty-four hours, or until our arrival at Macon, Ga., where 
 we were sorted, and all officers turned into a prison pen 
 with fourteen hundred officers who were already confined 
 there. 
 
 The enlisted men were taken on to Andersonville, Ga., 
 and put in that hell-hole to starve and die. The pen into 
 which we were put, like many others of the kind, had a 
 picket fence line inside the stockade, which was its dead 
 line. Cannon were mounted on each side, with a comple- 
 ment of guards ready to shoot down any unsuspecting pris- 
 oner that might even touch the picket fence. This fence, 
 before the war, enclosed the fair grounds belonging to the 
 city of Macon, and the buildings were now used for a pris- 
 oner's hospital. Lumber had been furnished for making 
 sheds for about two-thirds of the prisoners. The water in 
 the pen was abundant, and very good for that country. On 
 our arrival the cry of 'Tresh fish !" "Fresh fish !" greeted 
 our ears, which was the usual cry when any new prisoners 
 were brought in. The prisoners crowded about us, asking 
 about the war and the news, and a thousand and one ques- 
 tions about "God's country," as they called the North. Lieu- 
 tenant Johnson and Captain Getman, of my regiment, took 
 charge of me at once. I found, also, several officers of the 
 Seventy-sixth New York Infantry and the One Hundred 
 and Fifty-seventh New York Infantry, taken at different 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE i6i 
 
 battles, and with whom I was well acquainted. They were 
 all glad to see me, though sorry that I was a prisoner. It 
 was a source of comfort to find them well, if not happy. 
 
 I learned from the boys that our rations for five days 
 were five pints of an inferior quality of cornmeal ; between 
 one and three fourths of a pound of rancid bacon, full of 
 maggots, and many times almost rotten; one tablespoonful 
 of rice; a gill of beans, or what they called cow peas; a 
 tablespoonful of salt, and a half-pint of sorghum molasses. 
 This completed our full ration for five days, with the ex- 
 ception of a very small piece of soap, enough, perhaps, to 
 wash a pair of socks. These rations were just enough to 
 keep a man constantly hungry, and yet not quite enough to 
 starve him to death. Our occupation was "skirmishing," 
 or, in other words, hunting lice, cooking, playing cards, 
 chess, etc., talking of exchange and something good to eat. 
 Our camp was full of rumors all the while, and a fight now 
 and then enlivened the monotony of this miserable life. 
 
 Every means of escape was devised and many tried. One 
 officer managed to make his gray blankets into a suit of rebel 
 clothes and walked out with a load of garbage that was being 
 carted out. With the consent of the negro driver, another 
 crawled under a large box that was on the prison sutler's 
 wagon as he was driving out ; but this man, after traveling 
 for some days, was caught with dogs and brought back 
 again. Many tunnels were started, but were discovered. 
 
 We had preaching every Sunday, and sometimes two or 
 three times a week; also prayer meetings; but I heard no 
 temperance lectures. A few debates were started, but de- 
 baters were generally too hungry to get up a good argument, 
 and debating was banished. I suft'ered intolerably with diar- 
 rhoea all the while and became very weak ; in fact, the dis- 
 
i62 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ease had become chronic with me, but I kept out of the hos^ 
 pital. Sickness prevailed to a considerable extent. 
 
 Time wore away slowly. Sick, sad, half-starved, and in- 
 fested with vermin, which it was impossible to keep entirely 
 clear of, we were startled by an order to pack up and get 
 ready to move. On the 30th of July we were put on board 
 a train for Charleston, S. C. There were about three hun- 
 hundred of us. Before the train started, however, it was 
 learned that our raiders, under General Stoneman, had cut 
 the road about fifteen miles from Macon, and we were taken 
 off and put in the stockade again. Soon after we heard the 
 sound of cannon, which came nearer and nearer as the day 
 advanced, until our boys sent the shells whizzing into the 
 suburbs of the town, about eighty rods from our prison. 
 There was not an unhappy countenance in that prison when 
 the sound of Yankee cannon promised deliverance. But, 
 alas ! when next morning dawned the firing had ceased, and 
 during the day we were informed by the guards that the 
 Yankees were all taken prisoners, which was partly verified 
 by the appearance of General Stoneman and staff in the 
 prison stockade. Soon after arriving in prison the general 
 sat down on an old log and told us all about it, while the tears 
 rolled down his cheeks, so chagrined was he at his failure 
 to release us from our loathsome condition. I learned after- 
 wards that the rebel cannon were double-shotted, and the 
 gunners ordered to fire upon us in the stockade if there was 
 any likelihood of our being released. There are not words 
 in the English language strong enough to express the hellish 
 fiendishness of our rebel hosts who would murder a lot of 
 starving, unarmed prisoners of war. 
 
 Our next news was that fifty ofificers had been exchanged 
 at Charleston, S. C, and that we would be soon after we 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 163 
 
 arrived there. This rumor, no doubt, was started by the 
 rebels to keep us from trying to escape en route. On the 
 morning of August nth we were marched to the train 
 again. I was hardly able to carry my baggage, what little 
 I had, yet hope and a determination to survive under any 
 and all circumstances buoyed me up, and I was more cheer- 
 ful than would be supposed. 
 
 While in Macon I had seen strong young men, who were 
 brought to the prison presenting a perfect picture of health, 
 by brooding over their condition lose all their will power, 
 give up, and lie down and die inside of forty-eight hours, 
 with no sign of disease about them. I determined not to 
 give up, therefore, unless I was obliged to, and my will 
 conquered. 
 
 We were packed as usual on cattle trains — ^the most filthy 
 they could find, it seemed— and started for Augusta, Ga., 
 where we arrived on the morning of the 12th. Here we 
 were unloaded and repacked on board a train destined for 
 Charleston, and arrived there on the morning of the 13th 
 at daylight. We were marched down to the lower part of 
 town, which was nearly destitute of people, on account of 
 General Foster's shelling that portion of the city, and placed 
 in a large building near the jail, previously used as a negro 
 workhouse. There were six hundred of us in the building 
 and the Marine Hospital. I was put into the workhouse, 
 where we were crowded almost to sufifocation. There was 
 a small back yard, where we got our water from two cisterns. 
 The water was miserable stuff and brackish. Frequently 
 the demand exceeded the supply, and no one could get a 
 drink for twenty-four hours, except he had money to pay one 
 of the guards at the door— a dollar in Confederate money for 
 a single bucketful. 
 
i64 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 I shall never forget the first night of our stay in this mis- 
 erable prison. These six hundred officers were placed under 
 our fire to save the city of Charleston. About ten o'clock 
 P.M. our guns on Morris Island opened on the city, and the 
 one and two hundred pound shells made night hideous. It 
 was impossible to sleep while these missiles were crashing 
 through the buildings around us every five minutes. With 
 a shudder, as they went screeching and screaming through 
 the air in close proximity to us, we asked ourselves, "What 
 would be the next terror added to our loathsome prison 
 life?" After a few days and nights the novelty of this con- 
 stant shelling wore off, and it did not disturb us except when 
 a shell came very close. They were fired with much regu- 
 larity, every five minutes, night and day. 
 
 One piece of shell struck on the roof of our prison, but, 
 its force being nearly spent, did no serious harm. Another 
 struck at the door to the yard, and one in front of the build- 
 ing, but no one was hurt. Our gunners, being posted as to 
 our locality, sent their shells to the right and left of us, as 
 well as over us. 
 
 For the first time since I had been a prisoner we were al- 
 lowed to write letters, and a few papers were allowed to 
 come into the prison. I improved the opportunity of writing 
 as often as I could get a scrap of paper, which was not often. 
 W^e were allowed to write but one page, and the contents 
 were subjected to a rigid examination by the rebel authori- 
 ties. Our rations were much better than they were at 
 Macon, but too scanty to fully appease hunger for the time 
 they were issued, and every day they were cut short. 
 
 Notwithstanding our bad treatment, my strength increased 
 a little, and I felt better than I had for two months, but I 
 felt the hunger most keenly. Once, about the first of Sep- 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 165 
 
 tember, I was obliged to go without anything to eat for 
 three days and nights. Had it not been for Captain Mead, 
 of a New York regiment, who was sick and gave me a part, 
 of his rations, I should have suffered terribly. About this 
 time the yellow fever broke out in the city, which was an- 
 other misery added to our deplorable condition. A number 
 of cases were reported among the prisoners. Guards that 
 were well in the morning were dead before night. Fifty 
 new cases in the city were reported each day for some time. 
 There were but two cases in our prison, one of which was 
 Homer Call, of the Seventy-sixth New York regiment. 
 
 Just before the fever broke out a large number of pris- 
 oners were brought to Charleston on their way to Florence, 
 S. C, from Andersonville and placed in the jail yard ad-, 
 joining our building. To give a description of this body of 
 men is an impossibility. It was the most horrible sight I 
 ever saw. They were dirty, half-naked, and some so emaci- 
 ated that their bones were sticking through their clothes. 
 Their treatment at Andersonville had rendered them almost 
 void of reason, and they thought of nothing but something 
 to eat. The morning after they were brought there I saw 
 one poor fellow lying on the ground, half-naked, and dead, 
 with his mouth full of dry meal, and his hand resting on his 
 chin, full of meal, showing that when he breathed his last 
 he was trying to satisfy his dreadful craving for food. At 
 the time I did not look upon this scene with any great degree 
 of astonishment, but took it as a matter of course, wondering 
 how long it would be before my turn would come in the same 
 manner. During the day this man's body was thrown into 
 a cart, as one would throw in a dead dog, and carried off. 
 This was only one instance of hundreds. The next day 
 these prisoners were moved to Florence, S. C, a prison but 
 
i66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 little behind Andersonville in brutality. The inhuman treat- 
 ment of our prisoners will ever remain a blot on the history 
 of the Southern Confederacy. 
 
 By the first of October the yellow fever was raging 
 throughout the city, though, strange to say, it did not trouble 
 us to any great extent ; but the inhabitants wished us moved, 
 for fear we would cause it to spread. Among all the pris- 
 oners, there were but forty-two cases, of which forty died 
 and two got well. Homer Call, of the Seventy-sixth New 
 York Regiment, was one of the two that recovered. On the 
 5th of October rations of raw beef were issued to us, and 
 we were ordered to be ready to move at once. We were 
 formed in line in front of our prison and the jail, and as 
 soon as possible started on the road up King Street. Charles- 
 ton never saw such a sight before or since. Our clothes 
 were in rags, barely covering our nakedness, and about half 
 were bareheaded. In the procession were officers of all 
 grades, from generals to second lieutenants, some hardly 
 able to walk, every man in the line — about three hundred 
 in all — gnawing intently at his piece of raw beef as he 
 crawled along the street. 
 
 At length we reached the cars and were crowded aboard 
 in the usual manner and started for Columbia, S. C, arriv- 
 ing there on the morning of the 6th. A few of the prisoners 
 who were able to travel escaped from the cars, but whether 
 they ever reached our lines I know not. As no word had 
 been sent (purposely, I suppose) of our coming, no prepara- 
 tion had been made for us. We were marched into an open 
 field with just enough room to lie down. A strong guard 
 of Columbia Cadets were placed over us, and one of them 
 displayed his chivalry and thirst for Yankee blood by run- 
 ning his bayonet into a prisoner because unknowingly he 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 167 
 
 got over the established limits of the camp. During the 
 night a drenching rain-storm set in, and a great portion of 
 the ground was covered with water three inches deep. Many 
 of the men, not being able to stand up, wallowed in the mud 
 and water all night. Prisoners from other places had been 
 brought in, so there were fifteen hundred of us altogether. 
 This was a slight introduction to our subsequent treatment. 
 The most of us had had nothing to eat for twenty-four 
 hours. On the morning of the 9th of October we presented 
 a horrible appearance — wet, hungry, and covered with mud ; 
 some were unable to move, and I think several died. One 
 cake of hard bread was delivered to each man, and in the 
 course of the day we were marched about two miles from 
 the city into an open field, a strong guard placed around 
 us, and for twenty-four hours were not allowed to have 
 water, although a clear stream of running water was only 
 twenty rods away. This camp was subsequently named 
 **Camp Sorghum." Turned into an open field, without shel- 
 ter, wood or water, or anything to eat, the prospect for long 
 life and happiness looked gloomy indeed. Just at night we 
 received a miserable pittance of cornmeal, a little flour, salt 
 and sorghum molasses. The weather had cleared off that 
 day, and it was a very cold night for that country so early 
 in the season. It was simply an impossibility to keep warm. 
 I was only thinly clad, my clothes being nearly worn out. 
 
 Time passed slowly. We got no letters, and no recently 
 captured prisoners were sent to our camp — in fact, none 
 since we left Macon, Ga. — so that we were practically cut 
 off from the outside world. Nothing occurred worthy of 
 note for several days, when a captain of the Nineteenth 
 Pennsylvania Volunteers was taken with the yellow fever 
 and died. This was the first case among us since we left 
 
i68 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Charleston. One more only died with the disease, when it 
 disappeared altogether. 
 
 Five axes were furnished for fifteen hundred men to cut 
 wood, and each day we were allowed to go out into the 
 woods near by to get fuel, with a strong guard thrown 
 around us. Only one hour at this business was allowed to 
 each, and we took good care to improve it. Many prisoners 
 escaped by hiding away until night, when they would strike 
 out for our lines on the coast, or in Tennessee. The dis- 
 tance to the former was two hundred miles, and over the 
 mountains to Tennessee three hundred miles. This was 
 quite an undertaking, and but few ever got through. Many 
 were caught the next day after leaving camp, while some 
 were out for weeks, caught by dogs, and returned again by 
 citizens. A number of officers were shot trying to run the 
 guard at night, and we were in as much danger inside the 
 camp as those who endeavored to escape. It was a common 
 thing for a musket-ball to come whistling over our heads, 
 and sometimes uncomfortably close, during the night. So 
 we were not sure when we stretched ourselves on the ground 
 at night of being alive in the morning. Lieutenant Young, 
 of the Fourth Pennsylvania Cavalry, taken prisoner the 
 same time I was, was shot and killed while sitting quietly by 
 a little fire one evening with a party of others by one of the 
 guards shooting at a man who was trying to escape. A 
 number were wounded in the same manner at different times. 
 
 Our rations were being reduced at every issue, and we re- 
 ceived no meat of any kind, or a particle of fat or grease. 
 For twenty days we had been favored very much by not 
 having any storms. On the 27th of October a heavy rain 
 set in, and found us without any shelter whatever, except a 
 little pine brush, which the rain ran through as through a 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 169 
 
 sieve. In the mud and water we wallowed like so many 
 swine, drying when the sun shone out, and ''skirmishing" 
 generally every day. We were suffering fearfully for the 
 want of better food and more of it. Our condition seemed 
 almost unbearable, yet we managed to live, but with a dis- 
 couraging prospect of ever being relieved from our terrible 
 situation. So desperate had I become for food that I tried 
 digging grass roots and eating them. The bulbs were bitter, 
 but they stopped my gnawing hunger a little. 
 
 One day, while pulling the roots, I saw a scale of gold, 
 and immediately got the half of a canteen and carefully gath- 
 ered it full of dirt and took it to the little stream of water 
 and washed it out. I had several ''colors," and by going 
 down a little I got a fair prospect that would have paid if 
 worked properly. I washed until I had about fifty cents' 
 worth of fine dust, which I preserved in a quill and took 
 home with me. The Columbia papers had a glowing ac- 
 count of gold being discovered by the Yankee prisoners. 
 Many of them, mostly old Californians, were prospecting 
 every day, but found very little, though one could get the 
 *'color" almost anywhere in the camp. 
 
 Every way that could be thought of was tried to effect an 
 escape, and many were successful. I had nothing to wear 
 on my feet, and it would have been useless to attempt it with- 
 out boots or shoes. About this time an order was posted 
 up about the camp that all officers must give their parole 
 not to attempt to escape, or they would be confined in a pen 
 and treated the same as enlisted men. This order was 
 signed by General Hardee, formerly of the United States 
 Army. The order did not amount to anything and was 
 hooted at by the prisoners. 
 
 About this time a large, razor-back hog, of the male gen- 
 
I70 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 der, strolled Into camp, and no sooner got inside than hun- 
 dreds of men were after him with sticks, clubs, axes, etc. 
 After a short but close siege he had to succumb, and was 
 cut up in the twinkling of an eye. By hard work I got a 
 small piece of his hide, from which I managed to get a little 
 grease that was decidedly delicious, though it smelled to 
 heaven and was strong enough to carry double. 
 
 On election day in November, when Abraham Lincoln 
 ran against McClellan, we had an election among the pris- 
 oners, which was encouraged by the rebel authorities, who 
 furnished paper for poll lists, etc. The result of over eleven 
 hundred votes cast was a little over a thousand for Lincoln 
 and less than a hundred for McClellan. This was very dis- 
 appointing to rebeldom, and rations were accordingly made 
 smaller. On the 19th of November, Major Wauza, of the 
 Twenty-fourth New York Cavalry, had a pair of new shoes 
 sent him, and gave me his old ones, which I patched up as 
 well as I could, determined to effect my escape, if possible. 
 
 On the night of the 20th, which was dark and rainy, a 
 party of six, myself included, tried to escape, but the guards 
 caught us at it and fired on us, after we had crawled about 
 fifteen rods in the mud and water. It continued to rain the 
 next day, but we found no chance to escape. On the 24th 
 of November (Thanksgiving Day) Lieutenant Myers, of the 
 Seventy-sixth New York Volunteers, and myself concluded 
 to escape, if possible, while we were out after wood. We 
 induced the sergeant to send a guard with us outside the 
 lines after a log that we pretended two men were after, and 
 we wished to help them in with it. A captain by the name 
 of Schofield went with us, having prevailed on the sergeant 
 to let him go. After we had gone far enough in the woods 
 to get out of sight of camp we concluded we could not find 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 171 
 
 the two men we were looking for, and proposed going back, 
 but Schofield did not wish to. Myers and I started back, 
 leaving Schofield and the guard arguing the case about 
 going farther on. As soon as we were out of sight of the 
 guard and Schofield we skulked through the bushes and 
 made good our escape. After running for some distance we 
 came to the road that led from Columbia to Lexington, and 
 came near meeting a wagon with an old man and an old 
 woman in it. We dropped behind some bushes and escaped 
 their notice. As soon as they had passed we crossed the 
 road in quest of a more secure position. Hearing another 
 wagon coming, we crawled under some thick bushes. We 
 soon learned that our position was between two roads, and 
 people were almost constantly passing. Fearing to move, 
 we lay flat on the ground in almost breathless silence, while 
 people passed to and fro not more than a hundred feet each 
 side of us. We kept our position, though almost frozen, as 
 it was very cold, until nine o'clock at night, when we got 
 up and took the road to Lexington, as we supposed, intend- 
 ing to join Sherman's army as soon as possible, as he w^as 
 at that time in Milledgeville, Ga., and we supposed that he 
 would be in Augusta, Ga., by the time we could get there. 
 We had not traveled far before we found that we were on 
 the wrong road, as we very suddenly brought up at a cross- 
 ing of the Saluxa River. 
 
 Knowing that we had to follow that stream up some dis- 
 tance, we turned back^ and in an hour or so were on the 
 right track. Not being used to marching, we were soon 
 very much fatigued, and were obliged to rest often. About 
 midnight we passed two escaped prisoners, who had heard 
 us coming and skulked. Soon after we heard them coming, 
 and skulked in the same manner. It was very dark^ and 
 
172 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 they came very near us. Although they conversed in a 
 whisper, we learned by their conversation that they were 
 escaped prisoners, and then made ourselves known to them 
 and traveled on together, every mile or less flanking team- 
 sters or picket camp-fires. We had not gone far before we 
 came across two more escaped prisoners, who joined us. 
 All had escaped the same day, but in different ways. Lex- 
 ington is a small village, twelve miles from Columbia. We 
 pushed on as fast as possible, to enable us to flank it before 
 daylight, which we did successfully, and traveled three miles 
 beyond. Just as it was getting daylight, Myers and I turned 
 off the road into a swamp for the day, nearly used up. 
 
 This was the first day of our escape, and we enjoyed our 
 freedom very much. During the day we slept and mended 
 our clothes. I had a needle and Myers had some thread. 
 The day being warm and pleasant, we rested very quietly, 
 without being disturbed. At night we started for the road 
 again. Our provisions were all gone, as we ate the last we 
 had in the morning. About nine p.m. we reached the road, 
 and left our companions of the previous night, believing it 
 to be more safe. The country through which we passed was 
 thickly settled for that State, and we had to be very careful, 
 for to be seen was about the same as to be caught, for as 
 soon as any of the citizens saw a Yankee they would gather 
 their pack of dogs and put them on his track and hunt him 
 down as they would a deer. Nothing transpired during the 
 first part of the night, except tearing our clothes on the 
 bushes as we stumbled along in the darkness. 
 
 About midnight we got very hungry, and Myers began 
 to express fears that we would starve did we not get some- 
 thing to eat very soon. He began to be reckless, and I 
 feared he would get us recaptured. About 2 p.m. we passed 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 173 
 
 a house where no dog came yelping out, and we examined 
 all the barns and outhouses in search of something to eat. 
 Myers fortunately secured two half-grown chickens. We 
 traveled on with lighter steps and spirits, not having tasted 
 meat for two months, except the hog before mentioned. In 
 a short time we came to a dense piece of woods, and, turning 
 off the road a short distance, built a fire of pine cones, took 
 the entrails out of the chickens which we roasted, feath- 
 ers and all. It took but a short time to devour them, and 
 we were on our way again, very much refreshed. It was 
 getting near morning, when we heard the chickens crowing 
 ahead of us, and we pushed on till we came to a house. By 
 careful manoeuvering and much crawling we found the 
 chicken-house built close against the side of the dwelling, 
 and only a square hole, a foot each way, about three feet 
 from the ground, where we could make an entrance. It was 
 a ticklish job, and the hole was not large enough for Myers 
 to get through, so I had to crawl in. I managed to secure 
 three fine roosters, without disturbing the owners. We got 
 away all right, and, it being almost morning, we turned off 
 the road into the woods and lay down to sleep. 
 
 When it came daylight we found ourselves in a very ex- 
 posed position, and, while looking about for a more secure 
 place, three large dogs came howling towards us from the 
 direction of the house where we took the chickens. We 
 thought it certain that we should be caught; we lay down 
 on the ground between two knolls and kept as quiet as pos- 
 sible, expecting every moment that some person would make 
 his appearance. But after barking at us for half an hour 
 the dogs left, and in a short time we heard a shot off to our 
 right, a long distance away. We started at a brisk pace for 
 a large swamp about a mile away, where we got into the 
 
174 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 most dismal and secluded spot we could find, and camped 
 for the day. I might mention here that we started with 
 eighteen matches in a waterproof box, and a small bag of 
 salt, which was worth everything to us. We built a small 
 fire and commenced cooking our chickens by roasting a 
 piece at a time on the coals until they were all cooked. With 
 the gizzards and hearts we made a soup in a tin pint cup (the 
 only dish that we had with us) and ate our fill. This was 
 the first time since I had been a prisoner that I had had 
 enough to eat. What we had left we carefully packed in 
 our haversacks for future use. 
 
 After eating we slept till near dark. We were now in 
 most excellent spirits on account of our good success thus 
 far. Although footsore and stiff, we did not feel like com- 
 plaining, and soon after dark were on our way to the road 
 again. By the aid of the stars we soon reached the road, 
 and lay down behind a fence, fearing to travel much before 
 nine o'clock. The moon was new, and set at about ten 
 o'clock, making the night dark, which was more favorable 
 to us. At the first house we came to after starting on the 
 road we nearly met a man who had come out to chop some 
 wood. We dropped flat on the ground at the side of the 
 road until he returned, and then passed the house unnoticed. 
 We considered this a fortunate escape. 
 
 This was our third night out, and we hoped to make a. 
 good long march. After going a short distance we met 
 more people, but escaped their notice by hugging the ground. 
 At length we came to a negro's cabin, a short distance from 
 the road, and not more than twenty rods from the master's 
 house. As we were very anxious to get some bread, I con- 
 cluded to try to get some, while Myers lay behind a stone 
 fence to await results. Just as I was passing around the 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 175 
 
 corner of the shanty a large dog came bounding out to meet 
 me, and whoever was inside hissed him on. I ran as fast 
 as I could back to Myers, with the dog close up ; but Myers 
 commenced stoning him, and we drove him to a respectful 
 distance from us. The noise brought the old lady of the 
 house to the door, and she sang out to the darky to know 
 what the matter was. The dog continued to bark, but we 
 crawled off into the woods on the opposite side of the road 
 and lay still until everything was quiet. We then resumed 
 our journey. Before we had gone far we got very tired and 
 hungry, but allowed ourselves only a small portion of our 
 chicken, as we wished to make it last as long as possible. 
 During the night we heard some geese off to our right, some 
 distance from the road, and knew there must be a plantation 
 near. Myers thought that he had better go and see what 
 he could do, while I stayed behind the fence near the road. 
 He started, and I waited in vain for an hour or more, and 
 began to think that he had been captured. At length he 
 came back, with no goose. It appears he reached a negro 
 shanty, and was about to knock at the door, when he thought 
 he would peep through a crack, when, behold ! there was a 
 rebel soldier sitting by the fire. After making this discov- 
 ery he made tracks back as fast as possible. On we went, 
 and in trying unsuccessfully to secure some chickens at a 
 house came near being discovered. 
 
 From this time until we camped our course was through 
 a wilderness. Long before day, nearly tired out and nearly 
 famished for want of water, we turned into the woods and 
 lay down and went to sleep. At daylight, finding ourselves 
 in a secure place, we slept until nearly noon, when we 
 awoke, suffering with thirst and hunger. Our chickens 
 were all devoured, but we must have water. After looking 
 
176 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 a long time for water, without success, we gave it up, and 
 concluded we would have to wait until night. As it was 
 Sunday, we dare not venture to travel on the road, for the 
 Southern people seem to travel more on that day than any 
 other. In looking about for water we found some whortle- 
 berries and made a very good meal of them. Just at night 
 we placed ourselves near the road, behind a log, and watched 
 for negroes to pass, so that we could hail them and find 
 out where we could get something to eat. We did not watch 
 long before two came along, and we learned from them that 
 Sherman was very near Augusta, and that we were on the 
 wrong road, but not so dangerous as the right one. They 
 directed us to a place where the darkies were friendly, and 
 knew that we could get all we wanted to eat. These two 
 young darkies were not as friendly as we expected, and, as 
 they were the first ones met since our escape, we were a little 
 suspicious. As soon as we thought it late enough we were 
 on the way again. This was our fourth night out. 
 
 After traveling a few miles we came to water. We had 
 been without it nearly twenty-four hours. About midnight 
 we got to the plantation where we were to get something 
 to eat, but the dogs made so much noise on our approach 
 that we could not get near the negro quarters; but coming 
 across a flock of geese in the road, we drove them on before 
 us for some distance, and after a hard chase each caught 
 one. After an hour or two our road came to an end and 
 we had to turn back. By the time we got back to where 
 we had captured the geese it was almost daylight. We 
 turned into the woods and, with our geese for pillows, went 
 to sleep. At the break of day an old hound came near and 
 commenced barking at us. The house was in plain sight, 
 and we thought certain that we should be discovered; but 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 177 
 
 one of the darkies at the house called to the dog and he left 
 us, and we started to find a better place where we could 
 build a fire and cook our geese. In a little, narrow swamp 
 on the headwaters of the North Edisto River we camped, 
 then picked, cooked and ate the geese in the same manner 
 as we did the chickens. After eating, we lay down to sleep, 
 and about the middle of the afternoon were awakened by 
 the report of a gun a few rods off. In breathless silence we 
 awaited our doom. Dogs came within a few feet, but took 
 no notice of us. During the conversation, which we could 
 hear plainly, we learned that some man was out hunting 
 squirrels with a pack of dogs and a number of children. 
 Our only course was to keep as still as possible and take the 
 chances. 
 
 As soon as we thought it safe, we crawled, as still as pos- 
 sible, in the opposite direction from the hunter and his dogs, 
 but, instead of getting away from him, came very near meet- 
 ing him, for while we were crawling off he had turned in a 
 similar direction. We had got to a place clear of bushes 
 when we saw him coming towards us. There was no show 
 but to lie fiat on the ground and await the result. One of 
 his dogs came near us, gave a yelp or two, and went on, 
 which was a great relief to us. A tall, gaunt-looking reb., 
 with one of our overcoats on, came leisurely along, with his 
 gun on his shoulder, and two or three little negroes behind 
 him with a couple of squirrels. He was looking intently on 
 the ground as he walked within a few feet of us. He had 
 but to turn his head or eyes to discover better game than he 
 had found that day. We breathed easier after he had 
 passed, and soon secreted ourselves in a more secure place, 
 thanking Heaven that we were still free American citizens, 
 although on enemies' ground. 
 
178 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 This was November 28th, and we had been out four 
 nights. About nine p.m. we started out with a bright moon 
 to guide us. The night before, when we were trying to 
 catch our geese, I fell over a small stump and hurt my right 
 leg badly. It was swollen and pained me very much to 
 travel ; otherwise we were in good spirits, for we had meat 
 enough to last through the night comfortably. Myers had 
 an appetite like a wolf, and never seemed to be satisfied and 
 always wanted more. My appetite was not poor by any 
 means, but I could control it better. From our map — a 
 mere sketch from one of Loyd's maps on a half sheet of note 
 paper, but very useful in giving us the right direction to 
 travel, we learned that we were on the North Edisto River, 
 and our best course was to follow it down. We followed a 
 kind of by-road through swamp and deep gullies. It was a 
 very hard march for me with my injured leg. At length the 
 moon went down, and we brought up at the edge of a 
 swamp, with water three feet deep at every point that we 
 could find. After looking and feeling about for an hour, 
 we found a kind of foot bridge, consisting of single logs, 
 strung along, resting on the forks of small trees driven into 
 the ground. These logs or poles were about six inches 
 through, and occasionally a rail answered the purpose, and 
 were placed about a foot above the water. On these, 
 with the aid of our canes, we managed to cross a swamp a. 
 mile wide, I should think. About every eight or ten rods 
 one or the other of us would slip off into the water and 
 mud, about waist deep. After reaching dry land we lay 
 down to rest and were soon fast asleep. 
 
 I was nearly worn out, and to make a bad matter worse, 
 when we awoke could find no road, and it had become so 
 cloudy that no stars were visible. We took the right direc- 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 179 
 
 tion as near as we could guess, and wandered about until 
 nearly day when we lay down in the woods and went to sleep 
 again. When we awoke it was daylight. We soon secured 
 a safe place in a thick piece of woods, and I built a fire 
 while Myers went to the nearest plantation to find a darky, 
 and get something to eat, as well as to learn our location. 
 I was so lame that it was hard for me to move, and, be- 
 sides, I had taken a severe cold. A drizzling rain had set in, 
 which made me still more uncomfortable. Myers' trip was 
 successful. He found a darky, whose name was Dick Grant, 
 and by considerable strategy on Dick's part, he furnished 
 Myers with some biscuit and sweet potatoes, as well as a 
 small piece of bacon, and told him we were in a safe place. 
 If we could stay where we were, Dick promised to come to 
 us after dark, and bring us more food and also put us on the 
 right road to Augusta, Ga., via Aiken, S. C. He said that 
 Sherman was but a short distance from Augusta when last 
 heard from. 
 
 Although it was rainy, and I was completely wet through', 
 I slept soundly nearly all day. Myers said that he had per- 
 fect confidence in Dick from his manner and sincere delight 
 in being able to help a Yankee. At night I was feeling much 
 better, especially my leg. About eight p.m., according to 
 promise, Dick made his appearance with a good supper for 
 us, an extra piece of bacon and a small bag of sweet pota- 
 toes. We were the first Yankees Dick had ever seen, and I 
 think I never saw a human being so well pleased as he was 
 in having a chance to do something for a Yankee soldier. 
 *'Why," said he, "you is jus' like anybody, only a great d'eal 
 better." He traveled with us five miles, and put us on the 
 right road to Aiken with full instructions about water, the 
 inhabitants, and where to be more cautious, "for," said he, 
 
i8o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 "should one of dose fellers get hoi' of you Yankees, dey 
 hung ye on de fust tree, shua." Wishing us a safe journey, 
 with "God bless you," Dick bade us good night, and we went 
 on our way rejoicing. This was our sixth night out. Being 
 better fed than we had been for six months, we were in hopes 
 of reaching Augusta in a couple of nights more. During the 
 night the dogs annoyed us very much at almost every house 
 we came to, but we made the South Edisto River, and 
 crossed it an hour before day, but were obliged to stop, as 
 we heard teams coming on the road behind us. Only a short 
 distance from the road, in a very thick swamp, we camped 
 for the day, but feared to build a fire, as we could hear 
 people talk as they passed. We learned from their conver- 
 sation that Sherman had passed Augusta. I might remark 
 here that we always carried on our conversation in a whis- 
 per, both day and night, for fear that we might be heard, 
 and I think up to this time we had not spoken a dozen loud 
 words since we escaped. 
 
 The way we camped in a swamp that was covered with 
 water was this : We selected a thick clump of underbrush, 
 and while one of us bent a small three over, the other par- 
 tially cut it a foot or so above the water, then bent another 
 until the tops would hold us up out of the water, when we 
 would lie down and sleep upon them. Just at night we heard 
 a negro who was driving a team, stop in the edge of the 
 woods near us, make a fire and prepare to camp in the man- 
 ner that most teamsters do in that country when on the road 
 to and from market. As soon as it was late enough to ven- 
 ture forth we determined to make this teamster a visit and 
 ascertain if he could confirm the news we had heard during 
 the day. As he came from the direction of Aiken, we 
 thought he might know something about it. Consequently 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE i8i 
 
 between eight and nine o'clock we emerged from the thicket, 
 and approached very cautiously. He was lying stretched out 
 full length, fast asleep, in front of a large fire, I got near 
 enough to punch him with my cane, and he bounded to his 
 feet instantly, nearly scared to death. I asked him if he 
 knew me, and he said, "No, but you look like some of dem 
 Yankee prisoners dey had in Aiken." I told him I was a 
 Yankee, and he seemed delighted, and offered me a piece of 
 plug tobacco at once. I asked him for something to eat, 
 and he said he had nothing, but would go to a house nearby 
 and get something for us. We awaited his return, skulking 
 in the bushes some distance from where he left us, but he 
 did not betray us, and came back again with a dish of sweet 
 potatoes and bacon which we relished very much. He said 
 his name was Bill, and seemed somewhat stupid, but was 
 loyal to a Yankee soldier. ; 
 
 Getting all the information we could, and finding the news 
 of Sherman confirmed, we bid our dusky friend good-bye 
 and started on our seventh night's journey. We were eight 
 miles from Aiken. Bill had cautioned us to be very careful 
 in passing this village, for there were rebel soldiers there, 
 and "'twas a mighty bad place." We made but slow pro- 
 gress the fore part of the night, for our feet were very sore 
 and chafed. The sand was deep, and our shoes, being full 
 of holes, made it painful and tiresome work, but we had 
 enough to eat. The eight miles were very long ones, and 
 it seemed as though we never would reach our destination. 
 During the night we generally took a rest every two or three 
 miles, and sometimes both would fall asleep. To guard 
 against surprise, while resting, we generally left the road 
 and got behind a clump of bushes or a fence. Before we 
 >vere aware pf it, in going through ^ yery fine grove, w^ 
 
i82 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 found ourselves in the center of the village of Aiken, South 
 Carolina. 
 
 It was between two and three in the morning, and 
 we passed through the main street and crossed the Augusta 
 and Charleston Railroad without seeing a picket guard, or 
 any living being. After passing the town we took the first 
 road we came to that, according to the stars, led in the right 
 direction. Having had no water for several hours, we be- 
 came very thirsty, but there was no water except at the 
 houses. At every house was an old-fashioned well-sweep 
 with an iron-bound bucket, close to the house, and when we 
 tried to lower the bucket, the sweep would creak loud enough 
 to wake the dead, so we went with our thirst unquenched 
 for fear of being discovered. 
 
 We traveled on until nearly daylight, and found no water 
 or a good place to hide ourselves for the day. Just at day- 
 break we turned into an open piece of woods, and lying 
 down between two large fallen trees were soon asleep. The 
 face of the country was a little rolling and very sandy, with 
 no streams. From our position we could see half a mile 
 each way, and hear roosters crowing in every direction. 
 We built a small fire and roasted our potatoes, but they were 
 very dry, and added to our thirst. Here we lay all day, 
 almost famished for want of water. To be deprived of water 
 is much worse than to be deprived of food. Words cannot 
 describe our sufferings. It was very warm, and our tongues 
 were swollen so we could not speak, and it seemed as though 
 we would go mad. It was a terrible day, and I shall never 
 forget it. As soon as it was dark we started out in quest 
 of water, but found none, nor did we find any till near mid- 
 night, suffering almost intolerably until that time. 
 . It was on the eighth night when we reached a small 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 183 
 
 stream. I was careful to drink but little at first, and cau- 
 tioned Myers to do the same, but he wouldn't stop until I 
 forced him away. He seemed to be dazed, and determined 
 to drink more. I finally coaxed him to move on with me, 
 but had to hold him up, and he began to suffer intensely be- 
 fore we had gone a hundred feet, and finally dropped by the 
 roadside wholly unconscious. I dragged him to an old log 
 near by, and rolled him over it for an hour before he revived. 
 For a while I thought he would die, but after suffering much 
 pain for an hour or two, he was able to walk a little and 
 finally recovered, but was very weak. Aside from this, the 
 night was a very quiet one with us, and we passed no houses. 
 We turned oft' from, the road into the woods and kept on our 
 way until nearly ten a.m. the next day, when we ate the 
 balance of our food, and lay down for rest and sleep. We 
 seemed to be in a vast wilderness, or rather on the edge of 
 one, with no signs of human habitations, and for the first 
 time we talked aloud. Ever since we had been out I had 
 suffered with a bad cough that troubled me exceedingly, for 
 I had to suppress it at all times, for fear it might betray 
 us. 
 
 It was now the 2d day of December, and we had been out 
 eight nights. We awoke about noon, and from our hiding 
 place we saw, about a mile off across the field, a negro at 
 work, and, being out of provisions, concluded to call on him. 
 By a circuitous route through the woods, we got near three 
 darkies at work. It being out of sight of any house, we 
 decided to approach them. Myers crawled along an old 
 fence while I watched in the woods. It was some time be- 
 fore he could induce them to come near him, for they 
 thought he was a Yankee on account of his clothes being 
 different from any they had ever seen before. Myers finally^ 
 
l84 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 coaxed one of them to come up to the woods where I was, 
 but he was very timid, as the rebels had told the colored 
 people everywhere that the Yankees would cut off their ears, 
 fingers and toes, and otherwise mutilate them. 
 
 This darky's name was John, and he was the most intelli- 
 gent one we had seen. Finding that we would not hurt him, 
 he promised to bring us something to eat and some water, 
 for water was still scarce. John and the others went to din- 
 ner, and came back about two p.m. with a well-cooked meal 
 for us, consisting of corn bread, fresh pork and sweet pota- 
 toes, and his companions came with him. They all promised 
 secrecy, and John agreed to bring us some supper after dark. 
 When darkness came on, John came also with the supper, 
 and some food to take with us. Myers gave him a small 
 testament that he had in his pocket, and he was perfectly 
 delighted. He knew that Lincoln was elected President and 
 what the war was for. He could read and write, and said 
 that he read his Bible, and the news of the day, and that he 
 learned it all by torchlight secretly, unknown to his master. 
 We were the only white people he had ever conversed with 
 freely upon all subjects, he said. He gave us full directions, 
 what road to take, and said that Sherman had passed Au- 
 gusta, but had not yet crossed the Savannah River. About 
 nine r.M. we left him. 
 
 Lame, tired, and almost worn out, we traveled on, fear- 
 ing we would not be able to cross the Savannah River, and 
 join Sherman's army. We were some days behind him, 
 and it would be im.possible to reach him very soon. We were 
 also told that quite a large force of rebels were on our side 
 of the river. Our only hope was to push on as fast as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 We passed through a t^iickl^ settled portion of th^ coun^ 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 185 
 
 try for a few miles, then came to a wilderness again. After 
 traveling about ten miles we got off our road entirely, but 
 came across a flock of geese, and secured two after a hard 
 chase. We then took our directions across country with- 
 out any road, but the woods were thick and our progress 
 slow. It began to get cloudy and we got into a deep ravine 
 with plenty of water, and concluded to camp. Thus came 
 our ninth night out of prison. 
 
 In the morning it was raining very hard, and we were 
 completely wet through and almost numb with cold. Our 
 camp being a secure one, we built up a good fire and roasted 
 our geese, but it rained all day, and we could not get dry. 
 We were thoroughly soaked when night came on again. We 
 had no more stars or moon to guide us, and were much puz- 
 zled to know the right course. We would travel awhile, then 
 rest and watch for the sight of a star, but none appeared. 
 It rained heavily till past midnight. At length we came to a 
 road and followed it. It was so dark that we could hardly 
 see one another; still we kept on. Near morning, after we 
 had passed a house, we were stopped by someone singing 
 out, "'Halt !" We halted, but the voice came from a darky 
 and we marched up to him. He was very much frightened 
 and begged us not to hurt him. He said his name was 
 Simon, and told us that he had been placed in the road by his 
 master to keep watch and give the alarm if he saw any 
 soldiers. He said that his master had all his goods packed 
 and ready to leave at a moment's notice, fearing and ex- 
 pecting that Sherman was coming, as he was not many miles 
 away on the other side of the river. We learned also that we 
 were traveling in the wrong direction, and had not come 
 more than three miles from our starting point, although we 
 had traveled twelve or fifteen miles. Simon also told us of a 
 
i86 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 good place to hide for the day, and that he would bring us 
 something to eat, but he never came. 
 
 On Sunday, December 4th, we spent some time in trying to 
 rid ourselves of vermin, as we did on every pleasant day, 
 and we were engaged in this active employment when we 
 heard the very welcome sound of cannon about twelve miles 
 away in the direction of the Savannah River. We were now 
 in hearing distance of Sherman's Army, and were very 
 much elated at our prospect of success in reaching his lines, 
 and once more sleeping beneath the folds of our glorious 
 old banner. During the early part of the night, before we 
 got started, it was very cold, but the moon shone bright and 
 we were confident of making a good night's march. Our 
 provisions had run out, and we were obliged to forage a 
 little. About eleven p.m. we made a raid upon a darky's 
 shanty, and found an old negress and her boy, who willingly 
 gave us something to eat, without knowing who we were, 
 except as soldiers. She told us to go to "Nigger Jesse's," 
 and he would tell us all about the nearest road to the river. 
 We found Jesse's home and knocked, and were bidden to 
 come in. We called him Jesse by name, and he appeared 
 friendly. We told him who we were, but he looked upon us 
 with suspicion, for one negro, he said, had been hanged in 
 that vicinity for feeding some escaped Yankee prisoners. 
 However, after a short parley he was convinced, and was 
 willing to assist us on our way, notwithstanding the penalty 
 should he be caught. It appeared that he was overseer on 
 the plantation, and had charge of all the provisions and sup- 
 plies for the hands. Being assured that we were genuine 
 Yankees he took us into his meat house and told us to take 
 as much as we could carry away. We each took a side of 
 bacon and a small bag of sweet potatoes, making us a toler- 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 187 
 
 ably heavy load. After feeding us well, he went with us five 
 miles to show us a way across the fields that saved us about 
 ten miles travel. He said that he had gone as far as he 
 could go, and get back before daylight. We warmly thanked 
 him, and went on our way rejoicing. Jesse had told us as 
 soon as we got on the river road we would meet patrols, as 
 the rebels were patrolling that road night and day, and were 
 hunting the swamps, and the whole country for stray Yan- 
 kees that had got on the north side of the river from Sher- 
 man's army. We also learned from Jesse that Sherman 
 was moving down the river towards Savannah. 
 
 In a short time, after leaving Jesse, we came to the river 
 road, and found plenty of horse tracks, showing that we 
 were in the vicinity of cavalry. On the road we had to be 
 very cautions, for fear of a surprise, and it necessarily made 
 our progress slow. We were obliged to camp before day- 
 light, and not start too early in the evening, for our 
 course was now a dangerous one. As v/e could find no good 
 place to camp, we turned off the road and lay down in an 
 open field, full of small knolls, with plenty of water between 
 them. It was co cold when we woke up in the morning that 
 the ice on the water was a quarter of an inch thick. We 
 were nearly frozen, but we pulled out as best we could and 
 got into a piece of woods for the day, where we warmed up 
 a little and slept without being disturbed. 
 
 December 5th, between the hours of nine and ten p.m., 
 we took the road down the river, intending to cross lower 
 down if possible. It being cold, it was more comfortable 
 while traveling, but we nearly froze when we stopped to rest. 
 In the latter part of the night we saw fires ahead, but found 
 them to be nothing but burning stumps, and there were 
 plenty of cavalry signs along the road. As we were pass- 
 
i88 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ing through a small, but thick piece of woods, the road 
 turned and we found ourselves in a rebel cavalry camp. 
 Men were on both sides of the road, and we could hear their 
 voices. We halted, and consulted for a moment to decide 
 whether it were best to turn back or not, but concluded to 
 pass through. As they had no picket on the side of the 
 camp where we came in, I thought it very likely they would 
 have none on the other side, at least for some distance. 
 The night was cloudy and very dark, and they were lying 
 asleep around their small fires. With a catlike tread and 
 hardly breathing, we passed through unnoticed, and made 
 as good time as possible for some distance. At length we 
 saw a very small picket fire in front, but we successfully 
 flanked it. Before morning we camped in a triangular piece 
 of woods and had to lie flat on the ground under a tree-top 
 all day, for a lot of negroes were working from daylight till 
 dark within a stone's throw of us, and we feared to trust 
 them. We could hear cannon all day, about seven miles 
 from us, showing that we were on Sherman's flank. The 
 large cypress swamps prevented us from reaching our army, 
 or attempting it, except at some crossing. 
 
 On the 6th we started out at the usual hour in a heavy 
 rainstorm, passed one picket, became completely soaked, and 
 almost numb with cold. We waded two or three streams 
 from one to two feet deep, and camped for the day in a 
 swamp where the water covered the ground. We cut down 
 a lot of alder poles and lay on them. It rained all the fore- 
 noon, but we managed to get a little fire, and got along as 
 well as could be expected under the circumstances. We had 
 quite a stock of Jesse's meat and potatoes left yet, but 
 thought it best to try to replenish, so just at night we moved 
 Vip the road to reconnoitre for a darkey and something to eat. 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 189 
 
 as well as for information. We did not wait long before one 
 made his appearance, and we hailed him. He had a two- 
 quart tin-pail with him, filled with roast chicken, and some 
 kind of sweetbread, that he was taking home to his wife and 
 three children, who lived on another plantation. We let him 
 know who we were, and he immediately gave us the dainties 
 that he was carrying to his little ones, and went back to his 
 shanty for more sweet potatoes and a few ears of corn for 
 us. His name was Fred. He had never seen a Yankee be- 
 fore, and, like all the rest of the darkies, he was highly de- 
 lighted to do something for us, and would have risked his Hfe 
 in our behalf. He was so anxious to talk with us and talked 
 so loudly that we had to send him away for fear of detec- 
 tion, as he had informed us that a '1ieap" of soldiers had 
 passed on horses just at night going the same way we were. 
 He gave us considerable information concerning the road, 
 
 streams, etc. 
 
 It was a dark and cloudy night, and evident that we were 
 among rebel cavalry. Fred told us that there were plenty 
 of pickets along the road. It was cold, and we knew that 
 all the picket posts would have fires. Soon after we had 
 started on our way, we found a picket and flanked him. 
 While on this manouvre a rebel passed us as we lay between 
 the furrows of a freshly plowed field. In flanking a picket 
 we always crawled as flat on the ground as possible, for 
 obvious reasons. We pushed on, though very sore and lame, 
 and my cold getting worse for being wet the night before. 
 About midnight we came to a large camp of cavalry and as 
 they seemed to be up and about, we had to be very cautious 
 in flanking them. It being cloudy, we had no stars to guide 
 us, and as we flanked them on the river side of the camp 
 we came to a road which we supposed to be the river road 
 
190 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^ 
 
 we had left and followed it about a mile, when we came to a 
 row of tents with large fires in front of them, and a num- 
 ber of rebels and negroes standing about. A short distance 
 further on we discovered a picket fire. We undertook to 
 flank it on the right, when suddenly I pitched heels over 
 head down an embankment four or five feet high, and Myers 
 came tumbling after. We lay still for a few moments to 
 see if we had attracted any notice, then got up and sur- 
 veyed our position. On a little examination, we found that 
 we were in the ditch of a fort. We soon got out and went 
 back, and commenced flanking on the other side. An im- 
 passable swamp compelled us to go near the tents. On our 
 hands and knees in the mud and water we crawled along 
 and passed them safely, but we had the picket post to flank. 
 In trying to do this we discovered some water, which at 
 first we supposed was only a pond, but soon found it was the 
 Savannah River. 
 
 We decided that we would try to cross it. As we were 
 
 slowlv walking along the bank, a guard on the works at the 
 
 ferrv'sangout, 'Tlalt!" We halted. ^Vho comes there? 
 
 We' gave no answer, and certain that he would fire, I 
 
 dropped flat on the ground, but Myers stood still. Bang, 
 
 went a shotgun, and the shot flew around us like hail. I 
 
 asked Myers if he was hit. He said no, and we ran as fast 
 
 as our legs could carry us down the river until we came to 
 
 the intersection of the river and swamp. It was a cypress 
 
 swamp, with the water from three to four feet deep, and 
 
 there was no telling how large it was. Here we stopped 
 
 and disputed about the direction we should take. Myers 
 
 was very much excited and was for pushing right through 
 
 the swamp, which seemed to me like madness. He said 
 
 he should go anyhow. I told him he would go alone, as I 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 191 
 
 was going back to the river road. I started and he was soon 
 following. In retracing our course we had to pass very 
 near to the same sentinel who had fired upon us, and it 
 seemed quite a serious undertaking, as he was now on the 
 alert, and perhaps the whole camp also, and we exepected 
 every moment to hear the dogs on our track. On our hands 
 and knees, and a portion of the way flat on the ground 
 through mud and water, we crawled like a couple of snakes. 
 It was hard work, but liberty was the reward. I was in 
 front, and after getting past the sentinel rose to my feet, 
 but could see or hear nothing from Myers. I thought he 
 must have turned back, and I feared to speak or make any 
 noise for fear of attracting the attention of the sentinel. 
 After waiting some time, I concluded to go on alone until I 
 was in a more secure place, and then wait for him. After 
 walking, creeping, and crawling for a long time I reached 
 the road near where we had left it, and, hiding myself, 
 waited for Myers. After a long time he came, minus his 
 potatoes, corn and bacon, which he had dropped when the 
 sentinel had fired. I held on to my potatoes and corn, but 
 Myers had all of the bacon. 
 
 As fast as we could go, we went back to where we had 
 flanked the cavalry. The road which led from this cav- 
 alry camp to the river, for about one mile was through 
 an otherwise impassable swamp, and should we have met 
 anyone on the road we should have had to lie flat 
 on the ground at the edge of the road, or slide down into the 
 water at the side of it. We finally gained the main river 
 road again without meeting anyone. The night was very 
 dark, and we were congratulating ourselves on our escape, 
 when a voice immediately in front of us was heard, saying, 
 "Get up.*' Quicker than I can tell it we were flat on the 
 
192 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ground just outside the wagon tracks, and a rebel soldier, 
 who was riding one horse and leading another, passed be- 
 tween us. I could have taken hold of one of the horse's legs 
 as they passed. The darkness of the night saved us from 
 capture. It was a very sandy soil, and a horse made no 
 more noise approaching than a cat would on a carpet. Again 
 we started on, and wondered what next ! We pushed on as 
 fast as possible until we came near a small place of three 
 or four houses, named Robertsville. Just before we reached 
 the place we saw a dim fire, and suspected that all was not 
 right. The bushes were very thick, and before we were 
 aware of it we were within six feet of a rebel picket, with 
 his gun, sitting on the ground, leaning against a sapling, 
 fast asleep. We crept cautiously past him and found our- 
 selves again in the midst of cavalry ; but they were only on 
 one side of the road, so we turned off the road to flank 
 them. When we reached the road again we were greeted 
 by some one singing out "Whoa!" not thirty feet off, and 
 we dropped flat on the ground. It appeared that we had 
 not yet passed the whole force, and I judged that this rebel's 
 horse had stepped on him, for he swore roundly at it. We 
 crawled along a fence for a long distance until we were en- 
 tirely clear of the cavalry, then took the road again, con- 
 cluding that we had got into a rather tight place. 
 
 It was nearly morning when we discovered a large camp- 
 fire some distance ahead, and another picket fire between. 
 It was a very chilly night, but we had had plenty of warm 
 work, and I was getting so tired and worn out that I could 
 hardly move. The country was open, and we had to seek the 
 shelter of the woods or be retaken. With all the energy we 
 could muster we pushed on. We heard somebody talking 
 in front of us, and, for want of a better place, laid on the 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 193 
 
 ground, tight against a rail fence, and awaited their coming. 
 It proved to be three darkies, and they passed so near me 
 that I could have caught hold of them. As soon as they 
 were out of the way we went on. A short time after we 
 came as near a picket post as we dared to venture, and 
 turned out to flank it. In doing so we passed through a 
 small strip of woods. Being almost exhausted, we laid down 
 and went to sleep not twenty rods from the picket. This 
 had been the most eventful night we had since making our 
 escape. We slept soundly until some time after daylight, 
 then got up and made a reconnoissance of our position. 
 Finding it a dangerous one, we took a roundabout course 
 along a fence, in plain sight of a planter's house, and not 
 many rods distant from it to a large piece of woods. 
 
 In looking for a secure place near water we came nearly 
 back to the road again, and concluded to stop for the day. 
 Gathering some dry oak sticks, which made but little smoke, 
 we built a small fire and roasted what few sweet potatoes 
 we had left and ate them. While doing so, we heard a horn 
 blow at the planter's house that we had passed, and soon 
 after heard the hounds on our track. We came to the con- 
 clusion that we had been seen in passing the house, and they 
 had put the dogs after us. On they came, nearer and nearer. 
 I shall never forget my feelings at that time, or the appear- 
 ance of Myers. However, we determined to fight the dogs, 
 if necessary, and Myers took a large cane that he had and 
 backed up against a large pine tree. I sat down on the 
 ground and put the end of a good-sized stick in the fire. 
 
 On came the dogs furiously. There was no mistake — they 
 were surely on our track. A big, black bloodhound led the 
 pack. They were not in sight until within forty feet of us. 
 With a savage howl the big bloodhound made directly for 
 
194 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 me. I seized the brand of fire and flourished it towards hirrt, 
 When about ten feet from me he ceased barking, dropped 
 his tail between his legs, turned off his course and disap- 
 peared. The rest of the pack followed their leader, and 
 soon the baying ceased. Just as we were thinking ourselves 
 safe a man came along on horseback, blowing his horn, 
 apparently to urge the dogs on again. Again we thought 
 ourselves in a precarious situation, but we lay flat on the 
 ground, and soon the dogs and man disappeared and we saw 
 nothing more of them. When a child 1 read a story of a 
 man who fought wild animals with fire and thus saved his 
 life. When I heard the dogs coming that story came to my 
 mind, and I used it with the best of success. Our sweet 
 potatoes were very dry, and we became very thirsty. A 
 sm.all pond of good water was but a few rods off, but a white 
 man was sowing grain just beyond it and a darky harrowing 
 it in. To reach this pond would bring us in sight of a house 
 and in danger of being discovered. We tried to crawl down 
 to it, but it was too much of a risk, and we waited until 
 night. 
 
 The last twenty-four hours had been very eventful ones. 
 We could hear our guns on the other side of the river every 
 day, and we feared that unless our forces crossed over our 
 case was hopeless. Still, we kept up good spirits and de- 
 termined to go through if it were possible. This was De- 
 cember 8th. We got a drink soon after dark, and crawled 
 out to the road and made an early start. All we had to eat 
 was a few ears of corn, which we picked off the ear and ate 
 as we went along. This was a quiet night with us, though 
 we had several picket posts to pass, but no very narrow 
 escapes. I was getting so fatigued that it was impossible to 
 travel more than two miles without resting, and after a brief 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 195 
 
 rest It seemed almost impossible to start again. Myers stood 
 it much better, being in better health and the stronger of the 
 two. 
 
 Fortunately in my pocket I had a small piece of opium, 
 which I used and managed to keep going. The country that 
 we were now in was heavily wooded, and frequently we 
 would come to forks in the road; but there was generally 
 a guide board, and I would climb on Myers' shoulders and 
 feel out the letters, and save matches. I often thought of 
 General Marion, 'The Swamp Fox of the Revolution," for 
 we were on the ground that he once used to roam over, and 
 wondered if his men suffered worse than we were suffering. 
 
 We stopped in a dense thicket during the day on the 9th 
 of December and started out early. We flanked several 
 picket posts and had some narrow escapes, but the darkness 
 saved us, it being very cloudy. Two men with a pair of 
 horses drove between us as we lay flat on the sides of the 
 road. Our appetites were getting very keen, for we had had 
 nothing but a little corn for twenty-four hours. Towards 
 morning we found a couple of ears of corn in the road that 
 had been dropped by the rebel cavalry, and soon after turned 
 off the road and camped in the pitch-pine woods, where not 
 a drop of water could be found. The day before we had 
 no water, but plenty during the night; but this day, De- 
 cember loth, was a rainy day, and finding some hardwood 
 leaves, we caught some rain-water in them and managed 
 to quench our thirst very well, but not enough to boil 
 our corn, which we used very sparingly, as the prospects 
 for getting anything more to eat very soon were very 
 unfavorable. At night, when we started, it rained very 
 hard, and we soon found that the whole country was 
 flooded, and we had to crawl along the tops of fences in 
 
196 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 crossing small streams, or wade through. The country 
 was flat, and we were obliged to walk in the water from 
 one inch to three feet deep all night. Pickets were numer- 
 ous, but we could get along with them. 
 
 Starvation was staring us in the face, our clothes were 
 drenched, and Myers' shoes were giving out, the sole be- 
 ing entirely off one ; but we tied it on with some old rags, 
 and kept on our way. Myers was getting very much dis- 
 couraged, and said he was willing to give himself up. I 
 encouraged him as much as possible, for I had no inten- 
 tion of surrendering. The situation was certainly dis- 
 couraging, but I did not propose to give up. We saw no 
 house or picket that night, and when signs of day ap- 
 peared we squatted down by a tree, with our feet in the 
 water, as there was no dry place, and went to sleep. At 
 daylight we found ourselves near the Charleston & Sa- 
 vannah Railroad, and knew that we must be near Gra- 
 hamsville, S. C. We crossed the railroad and crawled 
 into an almost impenetrable swamp, not far from the 
 road, and after many attempts succeeded in making a fire. 
 I started with eighteen matches in a water-proof bone 
 box, and now I had but one match left. 
 
 It stopped raining, and we soon got dry, and, boiling 
 what little corn we had left, ate it, and breaking down 
 some saplings to keep us out of the water, lay down on 
 them and went to sleep. 
 
 Just at night we heard a locomotive whistle. It came 
 from the direction of Savannah, only thirty miles away. 
 We heard no firing that day, and did not know but our 
 forces had possession of the road. We tried to find out 
 by reconnoitering, but could not reach the railroad with- 
 out exposing ourselves too much. Myers had a very nar- 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 197 
 
 row escape in going out to the road just at night. Just 
 as he reached it he saw a squadron of rebel cavalry com- 
 ing. He dodged behind a stump, and escaped their no- 
 tice. Soon after dark we concluded to get to the rail- 
 road and find out who held it. We were almost starved, 
 and must find something to eat if possible. After travel- 
 ling a half mile in the direction of Savannah we found 
 ourselves near a large camp, where there were one or 
 two trains of cars on the track with engines attached. 
 We could not make out whether they were our forces or 
 rebels, and as the men were running about we determined 
 to pass through and see what they were. Throwing our 
 old blankets about our shoulders a la reb fashion, we went 
 boldly into their camp and found they were rebels. I hap- 
 pened to stumble against one, who had a saddle on his 
 arm and was about to jump over a mud hole. I was do- 
 ing the same act. I collided with him, and begged his 
 pardon. ''Oh, that's all right," he said and went on. We 
 walked leisurely between two lines of rebel infantry with- 
 out attracting attention and came to one of the engines. 
 We listened to the engineer talking to a rebel officer about 
 Sherman, but gained no definite information, and went 
 on, taking the first opportunity to get into the woods out 
 of sight. This was the evening of the nth of December. 
 After leaving the rebels we concluded to make the best 
 time possible in the direction of Savannah. 
 
 The town of Grahamsville is a village of one street, 
 nearly a mile long lined with palatial residences of rich 
 cotton and rice planters. We did not know that we were 
 on the road between this town and the railroad, and had 
 to keep dodging almost constantly to keep out of the way 
 of rebel soldiers. In a couple of hours we reached the 
 
198 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 village and passed through the main street, constantly 
 meeting white men and negroes, who paid no attention to 
 us. After we got out of the town we were more cautious. 
 It was a very bright moonlight night, and by stepping 
 into the shade of a tree we were passed without being 
 noticed. 
 
 I recall one incident that happened here. We heard a 
 carriage coming, and the voices of men and women. Be- 
 ing in front of a fine house with a large evergreen tree a 
 short distance away, we stepped into its shadow, close to 
 the trunk, but instead of passing, the carriage drove up 
 and stopped in front of the house only a few feet from 
 us. Two ladies and two men got out and went into the 
 house without noticing us, and the driver passed on and 
 went back toward town. We thought this nothing re- 
 markable at the time as we were getting used to narrow 
 escapes. A mile or so farther on we met a battery of ar- 
 tillery. Lying down behind a fence, we waited until it 
 passed us. We went on again, but had to dodge some- 
 body often for two or three miles. We were getting so 
 tired and weak from the want of food and water that we 
 could hardly move. Coming to the railroad, we conclud- 
 ed to follow that, considering it less dangerous than the 
 wagon road. 
 
 After going a short distance we came to a negro's 
 shanty, and after a careful investigation to see whether 
 there were any white people inside, we knocked at the 
 door and were reluctantly admitted. We pretended to be 
 rebels and called for something to eat. An old wench be- 
 gan boiling some rice and warming up some pigs feet. 
 The cabin was full of darkies in bed and on the floor, near- 
 ly all fast asleep. The only ones awake were a young 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 199 
 
 wench and her beau, and the old woman who was getting 
 us something to eat. We inquired about the Yankees, but 
 they would not talk much about them, except to express 
 the wish that they would stay "Norf whar they 'longed." 
 The young, smart looking darky and his yaller gal kept 
 looking at us and whispering, and finally began to ques- 
 tion us. I thought they suspected that we were not reb- 
 els and asked them who they thought we were, but they 
 were silent. We finally told them. As soon as they were 
 convinced there was nothing too good for us. Bread and 
 sweet potatoes appeared at once. The door was care- 
 fully fastened, and a small darkey sent out to warn us of 
 the approach of any rebel soldiers. The young dark's 
 name was Adam. He was able to give us a great deal of 
 information. He thought we were Yankees, he said, as 
 soon as we came in, and he offered to pilot us to our 
 forces before morning. Kilpatrick, he said, was ten miles 
 from there in the direction of Savannah, and Foster's 
 forces ten miles in the opposite direction. Adam said that 
 he could direct us to Foster's forces without going near 
 the rebel pickets, but in going the other way we would 
 have to pass a **heap" of rebels. We concluded to try 
 with Adam's assistance to reach Foster that night. After 
 we had eaten heartily, and with an extra supply of food 
 for the future, we started across the country through the 
 rice swamps. After about five miles travel we reached 
 the last plantation that was inhabited toward the coast on 
 Broad River. Here Adam left us in an old out-house, 
 while he went to a darky's house to inquire about the 
 pickets. He soon came back and gave us full directions 
 where and how to go safely to reach our lines. With a 
 warm hand shake and many thanks we left him and 
 
200 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 pushed on in the best of spirits, with a bright prospect of 
 speedy release from all our sufferings. 
 
 We found everything as Adam had told us and had but 
 little trouble in finding the way as it was a clear, cold 
 night, with the moon still shining, and we made good pro- 
 gress. At length we came to an old picket post that had 
 been occupied by our forces the day before, which we 
 knew from the fact that the horses were shod and that 
 they had been there since the rain of the night before, for 
 the tracks were fresh. Our forces had probably with- 
 drawn their pickets during the night, and at that moment 
 we were possibly within our own lines. We travelled 
 cautiously, but were in excellent spirits, hoping soon to 
 gain our liberty. Visions of home and the comforts of 
 life once more caused us to forget for the moment our 
 weariness and our emaciated forms which had been 
 severly taxed during the last eighteen days by our deter- 
 mined efforts, continuous watching," marching and con- 
 stant excitement. At length we came to another desert- 
 ed post. This we examined closely and found that no 
 rebels had been there since the rain of the night before. 
 Believing that we must be near our lines, we were more 
 buoyant than ever, and felt almost certain that we were 
 safe. We soon came to a little creek that crossed the 
 road, and found plenty of fresh horse tracks where the 
 pickets had watered their horses, and found but few un- 
 shod tracks by feeling them out with our hands, but they 
 were all fresh. 
 
 We advanced cautiously and soon came to a strip of 
 woods where Adam was sure we would find our pickets. 
 Just then we espied through an opening a horse hitched 
 to a tree. We carefully crawled toward the horse, and 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE , 201 
 
 idiscovered another horse as well as a small fire, with two 
 men standing near with guns. They had on our over- 
 coats and caps, but we could not see what kind of saddles 
 were on the horses. Thinking that this must be a Yankee 
 picket post we arose and marched boldly toward them, 
 when a clear voice sang out ''Halt. Who comes there?" 
 "Friends," we answered. "Advance," said the sentinel. 
 When within a few steps of him he halted us again, and 
 wanted to know who we were. I asked him if they were 
 Yankees. "Not by a d — d sight. March up here and 
 consider yourselves prisoners." 
 
 And thus after all our weary marching, our hardships 
 and our sufferings, and our many hairbreadth escapes, we 
 found ourselves once more in the hands of the rebels, and 
 voluntarily too, while our own forces were not more than 
 a mile and a half away. 
 
 Never in my life did I experience such feelings as at 
 that moment. It is impossible to describe them. Yet 
 hope did not entirely desert me, and we thought if we 
 could only secure the two sentinels' arms we could march 
 them into our camp, for we learned that we were but a 
 short distance from our forces, who the night before oc- 
 cupied the same picket post where we then were. They 
 kept us at a respectful distance and took good care to 
 allow us no advantage over them for a moment. Al- 
 though tired, sleepy and almost worn out, I could not 
 sleep. Our prospects for the future were indeed dark, 
 and we fully realized it. We had travelled over two hun- 
 dred miles in the darkness of night, weary, footsore, 
 starving, but ever buoyed by hope, through constant pri- 
 vations, hardships and dangers, until all our sufferings, 
 mental and physical, seemed to be at an end; and now to 
 
202 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^• 
 
 have every ray of hope suddenly blotted out. What next? 
 We were prisoners again, almost in hearing of our own 
 troops. The pickets would not believe us when we told 
 them we had travelled from Columbia. Just at daylight 
 one of our gunboats commenced firing at the rebel pick- 
 ets up the river. We learned from our captors that we 
 had given ourselves up at the very spot where the battle 
 of Honey Hill commenced on the 2gth and 30th of No- 
 vember previous. Our captors gave us something to eat, 
 and about eight o'clock in the morning we were started 
 for Grahamsville. We were so sore and lame that it was 
 almost impossible to move when we came to start, and it 
 seemed like going to the grave instead of home, which we 
 thought so near a few hours before. Our guards, who 
 were old soldiers, treated us very well. Our route to 
 Grahamsville for three miles was directly over the battle- 
 field of Honey Hill. All the black troops that fell on that 
 field lay there still unburied. Some of the bodies were 
 stripped of clothing entirely. The stench was almost un- 
 bearable. We saw a number of old planters with their 
 negroes looking over the field, showing them the dead 
 bodies of their race and trying to impress upon them that 
 all who ran away and joined the Yankees were put in 
 front and made to fight and be killed. Our guards in- 
 formed us that planters came a long distance with their 
 blacks to show them these sights for the purpose of keep- 
 ing them at home. 
 
 In a couple of hours we arrived in the rebel camp about 
 a mile from town, to which we were ordered, and got al- 
 most there when we were ordered back again, taken be- 
 bore ex-Governor and Brigadier-General Chestnut, and 
 examined very closely and separately, We were then sent 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 203 
 
 to town and again examined. They thought us spies 
 from Sherman's camp, and would not beheve that we had 
 travelled from Columbia, saying it was impossible, for they 
 had troops all the way on the route we must have come, 
 and we would have been caught or starved before we got 
 so far. After waiting some time we were examined again 
 and asked for papers. I happened to have an old letter 
 from a member of my regiment that I received in Charles- 
 ton, and Myers had one from his regiment, the Seventy- 
 sixth New York Infantry. These letters, I think, saved 
 us. Doubtless we would have dangled between heaven and 
 earth from the limb of some tree had we been destitute of 
 any proof that we were not spies. It looked pretty blue 
 for us for a while, and the guard that frequently reminded 
 us that we would be swinging from the end of a rope be- 
 fore the sun went down and he would be glad to help pull 
 it. 
 
 About noon our letters were returned to us and we were 
 confined in a kind of pen just outside their guard-house. 
 This was the 12th day of December, 1864. We were taken 
 to the pen and shut up with a black corporal who was taken 
 prisoner at the battle of Honey Hill with two others be- 
 longing to the Fifty-fourth United States Infantry. The 
 other two were taken out and shot soon after they were 
 caught, but the corporal told them that he was free born 
 and belonged in South Carolina and wanted to go home. 
 Our pen where we were confined was six feet by eight, and 
 we could just stand up straight in it. It was made of 
 small logs about six inches through and pinned together 
 at the corners. It was the same at the top and bottom, 
 with none of the cracks stopped, and looked like a cage for 
 wild beasts. Four men guarded us and their own guard- 
 
204 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 house. One of them treated us well and brought us pro- 
 visions on his own account, so that we had more to eat 
 than we had at any time while confined. After a night's 
 rest we began to devise means of escape again and thought 
 we might possibly get this rebel soldier, who was a Union 
 man at heart, to assist us. I hinted the subject to him and 
 he said he would do all he could and at first suggested that 
 he might go with us, but as his father and mother lived at 
 Grahamsville and he did not like to leave them. The fact 
 is he hadn't nerve enough to undertake it for fear of be- 
 ing caught. He finally promised to let us know the next 
 day, as he was going home that night, and promised also 
 to find out where and how the rebel pickets were stationed. 
 The next day, December 14th, he told us where the pickets 
 were, but could not nerve himself to go with us. I oflfered 
 him money and promised everything in my power that I 
 could do for him if he would take us safely through to our 
 lines, which could be reached in three hours, but it was no 
 use. Fear of being caught caused him to fight on against 
 his principles. When each sentinel was relieved during the 
 night the pen was examined to see if all were present. 
 
 Our Union Rebel at last agreed to let us get out while 
 he was not looking if we could manage in some way to 
 make it appear that we did not escape while he was on 
 duty. 
 
 Hopes of liberty again made me feel jubilant. The 
 guard was allowed to take one of us out during the day- 
 time to get pine leaves for our beds. I got a chance to go 
 out and gather what I could carry and took them in; then 
 with the wood we had we could fix up some dummies under 
 the old blankets and a piece of tent the black corporal had. 
 The corporal was to stay; Myers and myself were to go 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 205 
 
 after arranging the dummies in bed with the corporal so as 
 to deceive the next guard that came on after we had gone. 
 We knew where the pickets were and how to pass them. 
 Three hours time was all we wanted to reach our lines. 
 After everything was ready we were impatient for the time 
 to come when we could make our exit. But, alas! just 
 after dark five rebel soldiers came with an order to take 
 us to the depot and send us to Charleston, S. C, and so 
 our hopes were again dashed to the ground, and no pros- 
 pect of escape open to us. They marched us to the depot, 
 and with five men guarding us, kept us there all night. I 
 lay awake all night on the ground, watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to get away. At one time Myers, the negro, and 
 four of the guards were asleep. I thought the other one 
 began to nod and I would get a chance, but some one came 
 along and I was foiled again. 
 
 The next morning the rebs issued us some fresh beef, a 
 big bone with some meat on it, and the question was how 
 Myers and I were to divide it. We drew cuts to decide 
 it and I won. Then Myers thought we should draw again 
 for the choice. Again I won and we got into a quarrel 
 which nearly ended in a fight (the first since we had been 
 out). Finally Myers proposed another trial and once more 
 I won the choice, which settled it. 
 
 About noon we were put on a train for Charleston which 
 had to run the gauntlet of our gunboats that lay in the Po- 
 cotalige River. The train was to pass in the daytime and 
 would be the first for three days to make the attempt. We 
 were in the rear car. They ran the train as fast as possible 
 in passing places exposed to the fire of the gunboats. One 
 gunboat fired several shots, and one solid shot struck about 
 twenty yards from the rear car of the train in the centre of 
 
^66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the track. Two rifle balls, fired by our sharp shooters, 
 struck the train. I was never on a train before when I 
 wished for an accident, but we were carried safely through 
 to Charleston, where we were put into jail, amid scenes 
 quite familiar to us, the jail being the next building to the 
 one where we were confined before. We found three of- 
 ficers there who had escaped and been recaptured after be- 
 ing out eleven days and nights. We had the privilege of 
 three rooms and a hall in the third story, with nothing but 
 the bare walls and floor. A more miserable, dirty, squalid 
 place would be hard to find. It was now the i6th of De- 
 cember. We were fed but once a day and then not half 
 enough for a meal. At this rate we were bound to starve. 
 It was much worse than living out in the woods. 
 
 In the jail were prisoners of every description — rebel de- 
 serters, galvanized Yankees, and citizens. One man had 
 been in there for two years because he was a staunch 
 Union man. One year of the time he was in irons. On the 
 seventeenth we were placed in a room one story lower 
 down with twelve of our enlisted men from Andersonville. 
 Here were seventeen of us in a room ten by fifteen. About 
 half of these men were the most pitiful objects imaginable 
 — nothing but skin and bones, covered with sores and ver- 
 min. All of their clothes had been worn for months with- 
 out washing. They were almost idiots from the effects of 
 their treatment. One man I noticed in particular. He had 
 his corner and scarcely ever moved out of it or spoke a 
 word except when something to eat came in. Then he 
 would brighten a little and eat like a famished dog. Not 
 a word of complaint escaped his lips. In fact he was like 
 a living corpse. He could not, or would not, tell me who 
 he was or where he belonged. How soon I would become 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE ^207 
 
 his counterpart was hard to tell. I was fast rivalling him 
 in filthiness, for we had no way of cleansing ourselves. 
 These days in the Charleston jail were the most sickening, 
 disgusting, and hardest to bear of any part of my confine- 
 ment in Southern prisons. Our excretions were deposited 
 in a tub or half barrel and emptied but once in twenty-four 
 hours. The stench was terrible. No wonder we were fast 
 becoming subjects for a mad-house. 
 
 December i8th. The enlisted men were taken out of 
 jail and sent to Florence, S. C, to a pen not a jot better 
 than Andersonville. They gave us a little better provision 
 this day, though very scanty. On the morning of the 19th, 
 before day, we were aroused and given a small piece of 
 fresh beef each, then taken out and marched to the depot 
 and put on board a train for Columbia. My piece of beef 
 I ate raw, and a very sweet morsel it was, too; yet it did 
 not satisfy my hunger. We were very glad to get out of 
 the Charleston jail. Nothing occured worthy of note on 
 the trip, but we were in no hurry and enjoyed the fresh air. 
 No chance presented itself for escape, and just at night we 
 arrived at Columbia. We were marched at once to the jail 
 and locked up without a mouthful to eat, and those in 
 charge would give us no water, though we were nearly 
 famished for the want of it. 
 
 On the morning of the 20th we were taken out and 
 marched to the Lunatic Asylum yard, to which our prison- 
 ers had been removed while we were away. The first thing 
 we looked for among our friends was a mouthful to eat. 
 They regretted our capture yet glad that we were alive. 
 A number that escaped were caught by dogs and badly bit- 
 ten. From the asylum yard there seemed no way of es- 
 cape and our chance to get North very soon seemed hope- 
 
2o8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 less. We must now rely upon Sherman. The weather had 
 become very cold — colder than it had ever been known be- 
 bore in that country. I had no shelter and nearly froze. 
 Lieutenant Johnson of the Tenth New York Cavalry and 
 I finally made us a little hut of dirt and a few pieces of 
 boards and sticks and covered it with the old blanket I had 
 brought with me. Some officers of our acquaintance had 
 been exchanged since we had been out and left their old 
 blankets with Johnson. They gave him also an order for 
 any money that might be sent to them. In this way we 
 obtained a little money and managed to get a little meat 
 at five dollars a pound, so that we fared somewhat better. 
 We suffered very much with the cold, for it was impossible 
 to get wood enough to keep us warm, and for a few weeks 
 I was hardly able to move about. 
 
 About the only hope we had was the continued success 
 of our armies. There were about eleven hundred of us, 
 and the rebels had furnished lumber enough to shelter 
 about three hundred, and probably one hundred more were 
 sheltered in tents. The rest had to do the best they could. 
 Tunnels were started, but were generally discovered. 
 
 One incident I must record here. Lieutenant S. H. By- 
 ers of an Iowa regiment wrote a poem entitled "Sherman's 
 March to the Sea." It was sung every afternoon by a 
 large choir of prisoners. Many of the citizens of the town 
 would often mount the platform of the stockade and call 
 for the song. The words were as follows : 
 
 "Our camp fire shone bright in the mountains, 
 That frowned on the river below. 
 While we stood by our guns in the morning 
 And eagerly watched for the foe. 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 209 
 
 When a rider came out of the darkness 
 That hung over mountain and tree, 
 And shouted 'Boys, up, and be ready, 
 For Sherman will march to the sea,' 
 And shouted Boys, up, and be ready, 
 For Sherman will march to the sea/ 
 
 Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman 
 
 Went up from each valley and glen, 
 
 And the bugles re-echoed the music 
 
 That came from the lips of the men ; 
 
 For we knew that the stars on our banner 
 
 More bright in their splendor would be. 
 
 And that blessings from Northland would greet us 
 
 When Sherman marched down to the sea. 
 
 Then forward, boys, forward to battle. 
 
 We marched on our wearisome way, 
 
 And we stormed the wild hills of Resaca — 
 
 God bless those that fell on that day 1 
 
 Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory, 
 
 Frowned down on the flag of the free ; 
 
 But the East and the West bore our standards. 
 
 And Sherman marched on to the sea. 
 
 Still onward we pressed, till our banner 
 Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls. 
 And the blood of the patriot dampened 
 The soil where the traitor flag falls. 
 But we paused not to weep for the fallen. 
 Who slept by each river and tree, 
 
210- ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Yet we twined them with a wreath of the laurel 
 As Sherman marched down to the sea. 
 For we twined them with a wreath of the laurel 
 As Sherman marched down to the sea. 
 
 Oh, proud was the army that morning, 
 That stood where the pine proudly towers, 
 When Sherman said 'Boys, you are weary 
 This day, fair Savannah is ours.' 
 Then sang we a song for our chieftain, 
 That echoed o'er river and lea, 
 And the stars in our banner shone brighter 
 When Sherman marched down to the sea. 
 And the stars in our banner shone brighter 
 When Sherman marched down to the sea. 
 
 Lieutenant Byers presented a copy to General Sherman, 
 written on scraps of paper, and he speaks of it in his Mem- 
 oirs. The lines were composed soon after Sherman had 
 taken Savannah, and was sung for the first time in our 
 prison a few days after I got back. Thus the Winter wore 
 away, and rumors got into camp that Sherman was on the 
 march again. The darkles smuggled some newspapers in- 
 to camp, from which we learned that he was coming to- 
 ward Columbia. A party of twenty-five had been working 
 in a tunnel which was now ready to open, and each was 
 allowed to choose two friends to go out with him. I was 
 chosen for one, and immediately made preparations to try 
 my luck again. 
 
 Then, on the I5tli of February, came orders to be ready 
 to move in two hours. We knew that Sherman was near, 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 211 
 
 and although foiled in our tunnel scheme, Lieutenant John- 
 son and myself determined to effect our escape from the 
 cars during the night. We had an old case knife with saw 
 teeth filed in the back for the purpose of sawing a hole in 
 the bottom of the car. During one of the coldest rain- 
 storms I had ever seen in the South — the rain freezing as 
 it fell — we were stowed on a train of cars, fifty-five in each 
 car. Soon after dark the train started, and before we had 
 gone many miles we had a hole sawed through the bottom 
 of our car, ready to crawl through as soon as the train 
 should stop at any small station. Thirty miles from Co- 
 lumbia the train stopped where there was no station, and 
 through the hole we went, followed by half a dozen others. 
 We lay down close to the track outside, waiting for the 
 train to start. The guards stationed on top of the cars 
 were nearly frozen, and the officers in command were get- 
 ting them down from the top and placing them inside the 
 cars. In doing this they discovered many Yankees outside 
 and put them back into the cars again. Johnson was 
 caught, but no sooner in than he slipped out again. To 
 keep out of sight I had to roll from one side of the road to 
 the other under the cars. One of the guards in getting 
 down from, the top of the car dropped his gun and it came 
 very near falling upon me. About that time I saw a rebel 
 officer coming with a lantern looking for escaped prisoners. 
 A pile of cross ties were piled up across the gutter. There 
 were six inches of water in the gutter, and the ties were 
 about six inches above the water. I rolled down the em- 
 bankment five or six feet and crowded myself feet fore- 
 most under the ties into the water with my head sticking 
 out. It was rather a cold bath, but I lay still and escaped 
 the notice of the officer. Soon after, Johnson came down 
 
212 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and jumped across the gutter near my head, and I calleH to 
 him in a whisper and he helped me out. 
 
 We succeeded in getting away from the train and took 
 a road that led back to Columbia. We had not gone far 
 before we came up with Captain Getman of the Tenth New 
 York Cavalry, Lieutenant Crosley, of the One Hundred 
 and Tenth Pennsylvania A^'olunteers, and Lieutenant Fish- 
 er, of the One Hundred and Forty-second New York In- 
 fantry, who was the only officer captured at Fort Fisher at 
 the time of Butler's fizzle. A little later we came across 
 two more officers, who soon left us. The four mentioned 
 above and myself comprised our party. It was an awful 
 night, the rain falling heavily, freezing as it fell and cov- 
 ering the ground with ice. I never suffered more with 
 cold than on that night. My clothes were in rags, hardly 
 covering my nakedness, and were frozen stiff. But we 
 were free again, and in good spirits considering the cir- 
 cumstances. We had with us but very little to eat, and 
 that was soaked with water. At the side of the road, under 
 an old shed, we held a short consultation and concluded 
 to cross the Broad and Saluda rivers and join Sherman, 
 south of Columbia, thinking we could flank the rebel army 
 easier in that direction than in the other. 
 
 Although it rained continuously, we travelled about fif- 
 teen miles as near as we could calculate. Toward morning 
 we discovered by a mile-stone that we were twenty-seven 
 miles from Columbia. Turning off the road into a piece of 
 woods we lay down to rest, but it was so cold we could 
 not keep warm without moving about. At daylight we 
 found a secure place in a ravine where a large tree had fal- 
 len and built a good fire. Although it continued to rain, 
 we made out to get warm and eat what little provision we 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 213 
 
 had. Crawling out near the road, I saw a woman pass on 
 horseback, and we knew that we were not far from a habi- 
 tation of some sort. At night it cleared off, and the moon 
 shone bright, which would help us in our attempt to cross 
 Broad River and get into a better country where we hoped 
 to get something to eat. 
 
 Very lame and sore from the previous night's march, we 
 started out and came to a guide board, directing us to a 
 ferry that crossed Broad River. We took the road that led 
 to the ferry. About midnight we met three officers who 
 escaped at the same time we did, and they had a negro 
 guide with them. Our party was already too large, and we 
 did not join them. Their guide told us that we could not 
 cross at the ferry, but would have to go up the river about 
 ten miles. With these instructions we turned in that di- 
 rection. About three o'clock a.m. we heard cannon and 
 knew that Sherman had attacked the city but concluded to 
 keep on our course. At these w^elcome sounds we threw up 
 our hats with joy, but made no unnecessary noise in our 
 demonstrations. 
 
 After travelling until nearly day, we came back to the 
 guide board that we left the night before. This was rather 
 discouraging, but we turned back, took another road, and 
 camped in a thick piece of woods where we could have a 
 fire, as we were not yet dry from the recent storm. The 
 firing kept up in the direction of Columbia all the morning, 
 and at intervals during the day. As we were between two 
 railroads we could hear the cars moving to and fro almost 
 constantly, and believed the rebels were evacuating the 
 city. As we had nothing to eat, our first business after 
 night was to find some provisions. Soon after dark we 
 started out, organized as follows: Getman, Crosley, and 
 
214 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Smith, who had not been out before, and as Tommy John- 
 son and I had had experience as refugees, therefore they 
 insisted that we should take the lead. Our plan of march 
 was in single file at intervals of a few rods so as to keep in 
 sight of one another and communicate any signal from the 
 leader along the line and act accordingly. So Tom and I 
 relieved each other frequently and kept in touch at all 
 times. After travelling a couple of miles we came to some 
 negro quarters a little distance from the road, and Johnson 
 and Smith visited them while the rest of us waited behind 
 a fence for their return. They succeeded in getting some 
 cornmeal and a bottle of sorghum molasses. Each took a 
 small handful of meal and we marched on, fearing to stop 
 to cook it, for Tom learned from the darkies that the bridge 
 we intended to cross was guarded, and that a party of reb- 
 els with about one hundred of Sherman's men as prisoners 
 had passed that day and gone to Winsboro. We concluded 
 to change our course and take another road and endeavor 
 to flank the rebel army on the other flank, where there were 
 no streams to cross, but we had to cross the railroad, 
 which no doubt was well guarded. 
 
 Very cautiously we proceeded, and before morning 
 reached the suburbs of Winsboro. This town we easily 
 flanked and soon came to the railroad, which was guarded, 
 as we knew by the small fires along the track. It was an 
 open country but the picket fires were not very near to- 
 getlier. We selected a place for crossing and each man 
 was to crawl far enough to the other side to be out of dan- 
 ger. I had the lead and passed safely over. Tom came 
 close behind me, and the others all got over without alarm- 
 ing the pickets. We then struck across the country, avoid- 
 ing the road and guided by the stars. Daylight coming on, 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 215 
 
 we camped in a deep ravine but a short distance from the 
 main road and railroad and but a few miles from where 
 we escaped from the cars. We had a secure place behind 
 a wooded bluff that overlooked the main road and railroad. 
 We made mush all day in a pint cup, each one taking his 
 turn. All conversation was carried on in a whisper. Tom 
 and I crawled to the top of the bluff* and saw Beauregard 
 and a small division of infantry, some cavalry, and a 
 couple of batteries of artillery pass on the retreat toward 
 Winsboro. We heard firing all day and concluded that 
 Sherman must be in Columbia as the firing was much near- 
 er at night than it was in the morning. 
 
 Our prospects seemed bright and we determined to make 
 our way back to Columbia, keeping clear of the main roads 
 as much as possible to avoid pickets and stragglers, for 
 there were too many of us to work the flanking process 
 successfully. At night huge fires lighted up the sky in 
 the direction of Columbia, and some negroes that we met 
 informed us it was the city burning, and also that the 
 woods were on fire, which subsequently proved correct. 
 We started across the country in the direction of Colum- 
 bia in the attempt to flank the rebel army. An occasional 
 gun was fired during the night, which proved we were not 
 far from the opposing forces, but we were getting along 
 finely. We came to some negro shanties and found the 
 darkies all excited, but got something to eat for all of us. 
 We learned, too, that Sherman's forces were only seven 
 miles from us but the rebels were between us and Sherman. 
 We kept on slowly and cautiously with good success. On 
 the morning of the i8th of February we camped in a small 
 but thick grove of pines not far from a house. As the 
 country was thickly settled we could find no very secure 
 
2i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 place. We lay and slept most of the day in a dry ravine 
 where the ground was covered with pine leaves and pine 
 branches. We heard no firing during the day. We had a 
 small fire in the morning to cook a few sweet potatoes we 
 had but soon put it out. 
 
 In the afternoon a wench and a little yellow girl came 
 carefully down to the woods toward us. The wench had 
 seen a little smoke come up through the tops of the trees 
 from our fire we had in the morning. She said "she didn't 
 tole any body, but thought dar mus' be Yankees down 
 dar" and as soon as she got a chance came down to see. 
 Her name was Manda. She had never seen a Yankee be- 
 fore, and it was a long time before she would come near 
 us. Her visit was most opportune, for we were destitute 
 of eatables. After some conversation she promised to 
 bring us something to eat as soon as it was dark. Before 
 night we heard troops camping in the edge of the woods 
 that we occupied. Crawling quietly down to the bottom 
 of the ravine, we lay still, awaiting events. We were sure 
 they were rebels, for if Yankees the wench would have told 
 them and we should have been found, as we instructed her 
 to that effect. Just at dark a man with two horses came 
 within a stone's throw of us, apparently looking for water, 
 but soon returned. It was too dark to distinguish his uni- 
 form and we lay quietly until about ten o'clock at night, 
 when we heard a low whistle near us. After several sig- 
 nals of the same kind we answered the signal and found it 
 to be from an emissary of Manda with directions to stay 
 where we were and she would soon bring us something to 
 eat. Six hundred rebels camped near the house and she 
 had been obliged to cook for them and was unable to get 
 avord to us earlier. True to her promise, she came with a 
 
MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 217 
 
 basket of pork, potatoes and bread, which were most wel- 
 come. In the morning, February 19th, we still held our 
 position. At reveille a rebel band struck up and gave us 
 a few Dixie tunes, then moved out, much to our relief. 
 Manda had promised to let us know as soon as they had 
 gone and bring us something more to eat. 
 
 This day was Sunday. Manda cooked and brought us 
 a couple of chickens that she had saved by killing and put- 
 ting them in her bed while the rebels were there, and we 
 had a fine meal. Manda brought her husband with her, a 
 big, strong fellow, whose name was Bill. He was one- 
 quarter Indian, one-half white, and one-quarter negro. He 
 had travelled all over the South with his master who had 
 owned a stud of race horses. He was about thirty years 
 of age and could read and write. He was anxious to go 
 with us and join the Yankee army. He said he could show 
 us the way to Columbia and avoid all the main roads. 
 Manda was anxious he should go with us, and said she 
 would go home and get everything ready and give us all 
 something to eat to take with us. I was much pleased with 
 the plan of taking hi'm with us to act as a guide, but all 
 the others of the party were against it, and thought it the 
 most dangerous thing we could do. They talked the mat- 
 ter over a good deal during the afternoon. At length I 
 said, "Boys, we can settle this very easily. You go ahead 
 as you please. I'll take the guide and trust to him." 
 
 When night came I said ''Bill, come on, you and I will 
 start out." The others soon followed, and I heard no 
 further objections. We travelled along with good success 
 until we almost ran into some rebel pickets, but we flanked 
 them successfully. As we were all moving in line, about 
 fifteen or twenty yards apart down a stony by-road, I heard 
 
2i8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 some one approaching on horseback at a Hvely pace. I was 
 in the lead, Tom next. Tom dropped down on one side of 
 the road and I on the other behind a low bush. When the 
 officer, as he seemed to be, got abreast of me his horse 
 shied out of the road and nearly unhorsed the man, but he 
 stuck to him and said, "Get up, dam you, are you afraid 
 of a hog?" and putting spurs to the animal rapidly left us. 
 I was unblushingly happy to be taken for a hog on that 
 occasion and felt no disposition to resent it. 
 
 Daylight coming on, we stopped in an open piece of 
 woods where we could hear troops but a short distance off, 
 who were no doubt rebels. We crawled under a tree top 
 that had lately fallen and had to lay there all day for fear 
 of being discovered. I sent my guide to find a place by 
 himself and come back to us after dark. Troops were in 
 hearing all day, seemingly at work tearing up the railroad, 
 but we heard no signs of fighting. There was no way of 
 finding out who they were until dark without exposing 
 ourselves too much. Toward night the noise in our front 
 ceased, but the woods had been set on fire, and we were 
 threatened with being burned out, but darkness came on 
 before the fire reached us, and our guide, Bill, came also. 
 
 As soon as it was dark enough to venture out, we took a 
 circuitous route and flanked the picket post that we came 
 near encountering in the morning on the opposite side. Be- 
 fore we were well under way it was near ten o'clock. 
 Bill said we were seventeen miles from Columbia. We 
 made thirteen miles the night before. It looked like get- 
 ting home and we were all in fine spirits. Fearing to 
 travel by any road, we took a course by the stars directly 
 toward Columbia. Most of our march was through an al- 
 most impenetrable swamp and thicket, then over a ridge, 
 
AIY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 219 
 
 then a creek and another swamp. Each creek was known 
 to our guide, and he also knew the distance from each to 
 Columbia. Fires lighted up the horizon immediately on our 
 course and we were confident that we could reach our lines 
 before day. At length we came to an almost impassable 
 swamp and creek, the water being about four feet deep 
 and the underbrush very thick. It was about three hun- 
 dred feet across and took us nearly two hours to get over 
 it, but we all reached dry land again safely, but cold, wet, 
 and almost tired out. Large fires were but just over a 
 small hill from us which we thought might be from a rebel 
 camp. We soon took up our line of march in single file, 
 about three rods apart, with the negro well in the rear. 
 With the utmost caution, Tom and I investigated our 
 front. By crawling to the brow of the hill we. saw that the 
 woods were on fire. Old fallen trees, stumps and logs all 
 ablaze, it looked like lines of picket fires in front of us. 
 
 Seeing no one, and hearing no human sounds, we passed 
 through the line of fire and smoke and kept on our course. 
 We were expecting every moment to be halted, but kept 
 on, not knowing what else to do. After marching a mile 
 or two through the burnt woods, the fires began to grow less, 
 or rather had burnt out, and only here and there an old log 
 or stump was smouldering. I was busy groping my way 
 slowly along, approaching every fire with distrust, when I 
 was suddenly brought to a standstill by a voice singing out 
 ''Halt! Who comes there?" Every one dropped to the 
 ground and commenced crawling away, except myself. I 
 gave the answer, ''Friend," and moved slowly into the shade 
 of a large tree. "Who are you?" said the sentinel, and I 
 heard his gun click as he cocked it. I was convinced at once 
 that he was no rebel by his tone and dialect. No rebel would 
 
220 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 say "Who are you?" as he did. I felt so certain of it that 
 I called to the others to come on, that we were all right. 
 "Hold on there! Who are you?" said he. "An escaped 
 prisoner," I answered. "Corporal of the guard, here's a man 
 who says he is an escaped prisoner." "Advance," said the 
 corporal. I caught a glimpse of the sentinel's blue clothes, 
 and the U. S. on his belt. It was some time before I could 
 get the boys all together, Bill the guide coming in last. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN. 
 
 Surrounded by Yankees once more, our joy knew no 
 bounds, and a happier set of beings I never saw. We danced, 
 sang, thanked God that we were once more under the pro- 
 tection of the Stars and Stripes. It was a Wisconsin regi- 
 ment of Sherman's army that we had found on picket. A 
 sergeant conducted us to division headquarters, where we 
 were provided with plenty to eat, and a place to sleep by a 
 good fire, but we were too happy to sleep. General John 
 E. Smith, commanding the Third Division of the Fifteenth 
 Army Corps, at whose headquarters we then were, sent his 
 compliments to us by an orderly, and requested that we 
 make a little less noise so that he could get a little sleep. I 
 think the morning of the 21st of February, 1865, was one 
 of the happiest mornings of my life. Never did the glorious 
 old flag of our Union look half so good to me as at that 
 time. 
 
 Thus ended my prison life of eight months' duration, lack- 
 ing three days. Our party remained with the Third Division 
 until we reached Fayetteville, twenty-two days after. The 
 staff officers all tried to make it as pleasant as they could 
 for us. On the march I was given a ride in the ambulance 
 for the first day, as I was hardly able to walk or even ride 
 on horseback. The next day I got a mule from the quar- 
 termaster and rode with the column. Our division had the 
 
 221 
 
552 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 advance that day, and General John A. Logan rode in the 
 advance with us. I believe every man in the Fifteenth Corps 
 loved that man. 
 
 Lieutenant Johnson and I generally rode together, and we 
 concluded we must have some clothes that were a little more 
 presentable than our worn-out prison clothes; so we did a 
 little foraging on our own account. The first house we came 
 to that was inhabited, and not too far from the column, we 
 stopped at and knocked for admission. There were three 
 women in the house, who were considerably frightened at 
 our informal entrance into their house. I asked if there 
 were any men about the house. "No, they were all gone, 
 fighting you Yankees," said one, "and I wish they'd kill 
 every one of ye." Their answer settled the political status 
 of that family, and I told Tom to entertain the ladies while 
 I looked the house over for men and clothes. Although the 
 woman had declared that there was no men's clothing in the 
 house, 1 soon found quite a good stock to select from. We 
 assured the ladies that we were very much in need of cloth- 
 ing, and that they need have no fears of our taking anything 
 else, but clothing we must have if we could find it. In one 
 of the bedrooms I found each of us a suit of underclothing, 
 two pairs of trousers, a good blue frock coat for myself, and 
 each of us a clean white muslin shirt. Tom held quite a 
 lively discussion with the women while I selected the goods. 
 After thanking the ladies for their kindness we departed, 
 and seeing the column halted in the road, repaired to a 
 thicket a short distance from the house and exchanged our 
 old prison duds for our new outfit. Tom was fitted to a 
 "T," but mine was a little large, except the coat. A com- 
 plete outfit from the ground up secured us a complete re- 
 lease from vermin, and we felt like new men. 
 
UxNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 22:^; 
 
 February 24th. On the march again to-day in a drizzling 
 rain. Some of Sherman's ''bummers" captured a train of 
 a dozen wagons or more, drawn by some fine horses and 
 mules, and loaded with a!l manner of household goods, 
 clothing, women and children. In one wagon was a large 
 lot of white lambs' wool blankets, double size, and the boys 
 presented us prisoners with a pair each, which were very 
 acceptable, and insured our comfort for the rest of the trip. 
 vSo far, we had met with the kindest treatment from the 
 general and his staff, down to the private soldiers. 
 
 February 25th. To-day we are quiet in camp, fourteen 
 miles north of Camden, where we crossed the Catawba 
 River after quite a little fight at the crossing by one of our 
 advance divisions. Our quartermaster of the division kindly 
 furnished me a mule, and I went out with a foraging ex- 
 pedition and captured a little white mule, a saddle and bridle. 
 After that I had transportation of my own. We had a pleas- 
 ant time, and got back to camp all right. There were some 
 rebel cavalry hovering about our flanks, and when they 
 captured any of our men, either shot or hung them, which 
 caused our general to retaliate. We were now on the ground 
 of old Revolutionary scenes, and to me the country was 
 very interesting indeed. 
 
 February 26th. On the march to-day. Plenty of rebel 
 cavalry hanging on our flanks, but not interfering with our 
 movements. Am greatly enjoying this trip, and am in fair 
 condition. Having a hard rain. 
 
 February 27th. Camping near Kelly's Ferry, on Lynch 's 
 Creek, waiting for the water to fall so that we can move 
 across comfortably. I am domiciled to-day in the house 
 of an old Secesh planter by the name of Kelly. 
 
 There was, now and then, a loyal man or woman, even 
 
22\ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 in South Carolina, as is shown in the following account of 
 the experience of an officer who escaped from the train the 
 same night I did. He called at a planter's house and made 
 himself known to a young lady, who secreted him under a 
 bed in her own room, and was fed and waited upon by her. 
 Her father had left home to escape conscription, and wish- 
 ing to get her prisoner upstairs without anyone knowing it, 
 she called all the blacks together and got them engaged in 
 divine service while the officer moved to his hiding place 
 unobserved. As soon as our forces came along he was 
 restored to liberty, "and you bet,'* said he, "that place was 
 not disturbed by our troops." 
 
 February 28th. There was no advance to-day; weather 
 very rainy. I am living on the fat of the land, chickens, 
 turkeys, fresh meat of all kinds, preserves, wines, fine old 
 brandies, etc. We are at the house in Kershaw District, 
 S. C, where the first secession flag was raised by W. Kelly. 
 At the time I was writing the foregoing memoranda he was 
 in the next room, tearfully declaring that he had always 
 been a good Union man. 
 
 March i, 1865. I am not well to-day, and hardly able to 
 move about. We still remain at Kelly's on account of the 
 high water in Lynch's Creek. 
 
 March 2d. A little better this morning. Moved seven 
 miles to-day to Kellysville and camped for the night. 
 
 March 3d. To-day is my birthday. Am thirty-three years 
 old. Am far from well. Started on the march early to-day. 
 Not far from our column a lieutenant-colonel was taken 
 prisoner, two men killed, and one murdered, not more than 
 twenty-five rods from me. Hope the rebels will not get me 
 again. Think Fll stick close to the column hereafter. 
 
 March 4th. W^e are two miles from Cheraw. Marched 
 
UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 225 
 
 1 
 29 miles yesterday. This army can beat the Army of the 
 
 Potomac making rapid marches. A battle is going on ahead, 
 
 but our division is not ordered to the front, but formed in 
 
 line of battle, and I may have a chance to see a fight, as the 
 
 enemy seem to be making a stand at Cheraw. We reached 
 
 there at 8 p.m., but the battle was over. The boys ahead 
 
 of us had whipped the rebels and captured forty-two pieces 
 
 of artillery, ten thousand stands of small arms, a large 
 
 number of prisoners, cotton, and all sorts of army stores, 
 
 and lost only a few men. We camped near Cheraw, on the 
 
 field of the battle, near the town. 
 
 March 5th. We crossed the Peedee River this morning, 
 the rebels retreating before us. Camped at half past ten 
 o'clock A.M. In camp all day. The Twentieth Corps passed 
 us to-day. I feel some better. 
 
 March 6th. Rested in camp all day. Hundreds of black 
 and white refugees constantly coming into camp. I saw a 
 peculiar sight yesterday. The creeks were so high and the 
 swamps so full of water that Sherman's men had to build 
 a corduroy road through every swamp they came to, and 
 also bridge the small streams. Almost an army of negroes 
 were trying to keep up with the column, and when we came 
 to a swamp or creek they had a hard time of it, but would 
 wade through mud and water to keep up, for fear they 
 would be left. At a stream where we crossed yesterday 
 there was a small log across the stream, just below the 
 bridge, and the darkeys were hurrying over it as fast as 
 possible. Along came a big wench with two little darkeys, 
 one under each arm, and started to cross. When about half 
 way over, one of the little ones slipped out from under her 
 arm and fell on the upper side of the log. The current 
 sucked the body under the log, and that was the last that 
 
226 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 was seen of it. The old wench passed on with the other, 
 and paid no attention to the lost one, nor did any of the 
 others. This was the most heartless act I ever saw a mother 
 do, white or black. 
 
 March 7th. Our division marched about nine miles and 
 camped on Crooked Creek, about five miles from the State 
 line, between North and South Carolina. 
 
 March 8th. We marched about twelve miles to-day in 
 the rain. Roads terrible. Here we passed into the State 
 of North Carolina, near Laurel Hill. Am feeling somewhat 
 better to-day. While at lunch to-day with General John 
 A. Logan and staff, and General John E. Smith, at the top 
 of a hill, where there was a view in several directions for 
 a distance of ten or fifteen miles, we could see the smoke 
 curling up from burning buildings and cotton bales, the work 
 of Sherman's army, devastating the whole country. It was 
 a sight never to be forgotten. Seldom had we a chance to 
 overlook so large a tract of country. Sherman's idea of 
 war being ''hell" was fully illustrated in the scene before 
 us. Many a once happy home succumbed to the flames in 
 that forty-mile-wide path of Sherman's Army through the 
 Carolinas. 
 
 During the lunch a sergeant brought to General Logan 
 a soldier under arrest, who was a good deal the worse for 
 the good things he had indulged in. "What is this man 
 under arrest for, sergeant?" asked Logan. "Disobedience 
 of orders, sir." "No such a thing. Uncle Johnny," said the 
 soldier, and continued talking. "Silence, sir !" said Logan, 
 in a calm voice. "Relate the particulars, sergeant," said 
 Logan, and the sergeant explained in a few words. "Let 
 me shay a few words, Uncle Johnny," said the soldier. 
 "Don't want to hear them," said Logan. "Take this man 
 
UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN rS27 
 
 } 
 to his company and tell his captain to keep him with his 
 
 company and on duty for a week at least before trusting" 
 him on outside duty again." ''Thankee, Uncle Johnny," 
 and they marched away, the soldier blubbering to the ser- 
 geant, ''There, damn you, I told you Uncle Johnny wouldn't 
 do anything to me. He knows I'm all right." No wonder 
 that the men of Logan's corps almost worshipped their gen- 
 eral. He did not censure them, but when he called upon 
 them to act they were ever ready to obey the man they 
 loved. To me this little episode was very interesting, and 
 I thought more of the general ever afterward. 
 
 We marched on the 9th to Lumber Creek, and crossed it 
 after dark, in a drizzling rain storm. Roads were in hor- 
 rible condition and almost impassable. Headquarters of di- 
 vision were at the house of a noted secessionist, whose name 
 was McMurchin. We found some very good-looking girls 
 to-day on the march. The people were not so much fright- 
 ened here in North Carolina as to leave their homes, as they 
 did in South Carolina. The country through which we 
 passed was thickly settled. Tom and I stopped at an old 
 man's house to get out of the rain while the column was 
 marching past, and found the owner sitting on his porch 
 with the tears rolling down his cheeks. He told us that he 
 had always been a Union man, and said he: "I told them 
 it was all wrong to go out of the Union, and that they would 
 come to grief if they did." Just then one of the boys from 
 the column chased a pig under the porch, and it gave a ter- 
 rible squeal as a bayonet was run through him, which cut 
 off the old man's remarks rather short, and he jumped to 
 his feet and cussed the boys in a tone far above the noise 
 of the pig. "That is my last pig. The damned Secesh took 
 all the rest day before yesterday; yes, and all of my stock, 
 
52^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and every chicken on the place," and he dropped into hiS 
 chair, sobbing as though his heart would break. 
 
 Tom and I rode on for a mile, and came to a house where 
 there were three women on the porch, two young ladies 
 about eighteen or twenty years of age, and one elderly lady* 
 The rain was pouring down, and without much ceremony 
 we climbed the steps of the porch and introduced ourselves 
 to the young ladies, who seemed not at all averse to our 
 intrusion, and we were soon engaged in conversation with 
 them. The girls were rather pretty, and quite jolly, and 
 seemed quite friendly. Tom says to me : ''Well, Cap, hadn't 
 we better be going? There's the rear of the column, and 
 Pm ready as soon as this girl will give me a parting kiss." 
 "All right, Tom," said I, "Pm ready, but I don't want to 
 kiss my girl." And the reason was this. I had noticed that 
 the one I was with often walked to the end of the porch 
 to expectorate after "dipping snuff" a few moments before. 
 It shocks one's sensibilities to see such a filthy habit indulged 
 in by a woman. 
 
 We were now forty miles from Fayetteville, N. C, at the 
 head of navigation on the Cape Fear River. We saw Gen- 
 eral Sherman several times to-day, and we had an idea 
 that he was concentrating his army and marching all the 
 corps to that point, which subsequently proved correct. 
 
 March lOth. Roads very bad; so bad that the boys had 
 to corduroy nearly the whole distance traveled. We made 
 only five miles to Raft Creek, crossed it and camped. We 
 found we were only nineteen miles from Fayetteville. We 
 also learned that the Fourteenth and Sevententh corps are 
 already there. 
 
 March I2th. Sunday morning, weather fine. We camped 
 last night at Nelson's P. O., N. C. To-day we are in camp 
 
.UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 229 
 
 not far from Fayetteville, a town at that time of about thirty- 
 five hundred. A very old place, but a very pleasant one. 
 We found that General Dodge's dispatch boat from Wil- 
 mington, N. C., had already arrived, so we concluded to 
 visit General Sherman's headquarters, to see if we could 
 get a chance to go down the river on the dispatch boat. We 
 saw the general, and he told us that the boat would not go 
 for a day or two, but he would see what he could do for us. 
 So we rode back to camp and rested until the next day. 
 
 March 13th. Went to town to-day and saw the general 
 again, and he directed us to General O. O. Howard, who 
 would arrange for our accommodation and give us trans- 
 portation to Washington. General Howard told us to come 
 the next day and he would give us a pass down the river, 
 but could not vouch for transportation further. We decided 
 to take the chances. We went back to camp again, stopped 
 over night, and turned over our animals to the division quar- 
 termaster. 
 
 March 14th. Off for General Howard's headquarters for 
 our pass, which we got about noon, and went aboard the 
 dispatch boat John B. McDavidson, bound for Wilmington, 
 N. C. She does not start until night, as there is danger of 
 attack on our way down by renegades. We bid good-bye 
 to Uncle Billy's grand army and started just at dark. There 
 was no secure place on board the boat, and riflemen on shore 
 could pick us off very easily. I took a look about the boat, 
 and found a huge coil of a hawser near the bow, where 
 there v/as just room enough for one man. I crawled inside 
 the coil soon after we started, and was soon asleep, safe 
 from any stray bullets from rebel skulkers along the shore. 
 
 It was now just one month since I had escaped from 
 prison, and what a month ! A month into which was crowded 
 
230 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 a seeming lifetime of hardship and suffering, joy and de- 
 spair, dangers and happiness, anxieties and hairbreadth es- 
 capes ; indeed, an experience to test my mental and physical 
 powers to the utmost. I still wondered that I was alive and 
 in possession of my faculties. I was much emaciated and 
 worn out, but, all things considered, in a fair state of preser- 
 vation. 
 
 We arrived at Wilmington about five o'clock in the morn- 
 ing of the 15th of March, where we secured transportation 
 to Fortress Monroe on the propeller J. A. Green, that was to 
 sail the next morning. Wilmington, at that time, was a Yan- 
 kee soldier town, pure and simple. We went to the theatre 
 in the evening to see the play, "Don Caesar de Bazan," and 
 nine-tenths of the audience were soldiers and the balance 
 "niggers." 
 
 March 16, 1865. Left Wilmington at 6 a.m. Passed Fort 
 Fisher at 10 a.m. In coming out of the harbor we saw sev- 
 eral of the British blockade runners that had been sunk at 
 different times while trying to get out or in. Once more 
 I was on the briny deep, and before night the wind began 
 to blow very fresh, and soon after dark had become a gale. 
 The sea was terribly rough, and almost everybody was sea- 
 sick. It was an awful night, but the good old ship weath- 
 ered it out and rounded Cape Hatteras all right. On reach- 
 ing Washington I resigned my commission in the army, 
 received my pay, and started for home on the 5th of April. 
 
 I found myself in New York City on the morning of April 
 6th, and learned from the bulletins that Grant was pushing 
 Lee at a terrible rate, and would no doubt soon capture his 
 w^hole army. Uncle Abe was at the front, and Jeff Davis 
 had left Richmond before I left Washington ; and one day, 
 while there, I heard the Vice-President, Andy Johnson, make 
 
UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 231 
 
 one of the most patriotic speeches on the steps of the Patent 
 Office Building I ever heard. Johnson said: 'Tf I were 
 President, I would have Jeff Davis caught, and I would hang 
 him, hang him, hang him, higher than Haman !" 
 
 I called on some of my old friends in New York, viz., 
 W. A. Bodine, John Brown, J. C. Palmer, Geo. Mitchell, 
 Capt. Geo. Vanderbilt, and many others. I replenished my 
 wardrobe, and the next day I took the train for Elmira, 
 N. Y. I spent the day there with friends, thence to Cort- 
 land, and reached home in the town of Taylor, N. Y., April 
 10, 1865, just three years and six months after I left to join 
 the army. 
 
 For some months previous to my return I was supposed 
 to be dead. A newspaper was handed me containing my 
 obituary, stating that I had died in prison in Charleston, 
 S. C, and that this information had been furnished by Lieut. 
 H. H. Call, who had just returned from that place. The 
 editor gave me a good send-off, eulogizing me as a loyal and 
 patriotic soldier that had worked his way up from a private 
 soldier until he became captain of his company, and was 
 taken prisoner in battle while leading his company at St. 
 Mary's Church, June 24, 1864. 
 
 The evidence seemed conclusive that I was among the 
 victims of the terrible war. My father had sold my favorite 
 horse, that I had sent home to keep for me, but fortunately 
 to one of the neighbors, and I recovered it by returning the 
 purchase price. 
 
 I wrote a letter to Major A. D. Waters, of Cortland, N. Y., 
 which was printed in one of the Cortland papers just before 
 the Presidential election. Some of my Democratic friends 
 declared it a forgery and claimed it was got up as an elec- 
 tioneering article by Major Waters, who was on the Repub- 
 
232 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 lican ticket for district attorney. One of these friends pro- 
 duced this letter and asked if I had written it, and if so, 
 whether it was smuggled through in an old boot, as claimed. 
 This is the way it was sent, as I then told him: Among 
 our prisoners were a number of surgeons, and they were 
 to be exchanged for an equal number of rebel surgeons. 
 I was well acquainted with one of the former, and I got his 
 consent to let me knock off the heel of one of his boots, scoop 
 it out, put the letter in it, and nail on the heel again. He 
 promised me to take it out and mail it at the first opportu- 
 nity, and it was done as promised. 
 
 The letter referred to above is as follows : 
 
 WHAT A UNION PRISONER SAYS. 
 
 We are permitted to make the following extracts from a 
 letter written by Capt. B. B. Porter, of the Tenth N. Y. Cav- 
 alry, written to A. D. Waters of this village. It was smug- 
 gled through in an old boot. 
 
 Charleston, S. C, Sept. 23rd, 1864. 
 
 Friend Waters : 
 
 You have heard, no doubt, before this, of my being a pris- 
 oner of war in this dilapidated city of Charleston, S. C. I 
 was captured the 24th day of June, at the battle of St. 
 Mary's Church, Va. I was kept forty-eight hours without 
 a mouthful to eat. As soon as I was taken I was stripped of 
 hat, boots, all papers, and everything, even to my tooth 
 brush. I was marched twenty-five miles barefoot, in the 
 hot sand, with my feet covered with blisters and then thrown 
 into Libby prison, at Richmond. I was there five days, then 
 sent to Lynchburg, Va. I was marched from there to Dan- 
 ville, seventy-two miles, and from there conveyed by rail to 
 
UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 233 
 
 Macon, Ga., and confined there with sixteen hundred other 
 officers, until the nth of August, when we were removed 
 to this place, and placed under fire, where we now remain, 
 with Foster's shells bursting and playing over and around 
 the building, every five or ten minutes. Our rations are not 
 sufficient, and those who are not fortunate enough to have 
 any money, are almost constantly in a state of semi-starva- 
 tiorL There are about two thousand officers, and about ten 
 thousand enlisted men confined in this town. The con- 
 dition of the enlisted men is horrible indeed, half fed and 
 clothed, and no shelter. Sickness, of course, prevails to a 
 great extent, and a large number die daily. Yet withal, 
 nine-tenths of the men and officers keep up good spirits, 
 with starvation staring them in the face and scarcely any 
 hope of exchange or release from this living death. They 
 wonder that there can be so much dissension among the 
 people of the North where men, nay traitors are crying 
 peace, peace ! just at a time when they should be more than 
 ever united in a determination to crush the rebellion, by 
 furnishing men and means to accomplish it. 
 
 Old men and little boys are guarding us. All able-bodied 
 men are in the field, and we have but them to overcome, and 
 the rebellion is at an end. 
 
 The whole South is completely under military control. 
 Every man and boy is a soldier, not even cripples are 
 exempt. 
 
 Were the Northern people half as much in earnest as the 
 people of the South, the rebellion would not last sixty days. 
 Could the people of the North know the situation at the 
 South I believe they would not hesitate a moment to fill up 
 our armies, furnish the funds, re-elect Abraham Lincoln. I 
 hope and believe that with our lat^ victories at Mobile, 
 
234 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Atlanta and Winchester, a new war spirit will spring up 
 that will crush the last vestige of the traitorous hordes that 
 now confront our gallant and victorious armies, and the 
 long looked for and only lasting day of peace will soon come, 
 but by any other means peace will never come. 
 
 The following officers are prisoners here, viz. : Lt. T. W. 
 Johnson, Capt. D. Getman, Capt. A. T. Bliss, Lt. Morey, all 
 of the Tenth N. Y. Cav. ; Lt. H. Call, Lt. Cahill, Lt. Myers, 
 and a number of others of the 76th Regiment; Lt. Curtis, 
 Lt. Powers, and Capt. Coffin of the 157th N. Y. Vol. All 
 well. 
 
 I am yours, 
 Capt. B. B. Porter. 
 
 When I verified the above letter my Democratic friend 
 had no more to say, but let me have the copy for preserva- 
 tion. 
 
 During my career in the army I took part in twenty-six 
 battles, as follows : 
 
 1. Fredericksburg, Va., December 12 to 16, 1862. 
 
 2. Louisa C. H., May 2, 1863. 
 
 3. Brandy Station, June 9, 1863. 
 
 4. Aldie, June 16, 1863. 
 
 5. Middleburg, June 19, 1863. 
 
 6. Ashby's Gap, June 17 to 22, 1863. 
 
 7. Gettysburg, Pa., July 2 and 3, 1863. 
 
 8. Shepherdstown, Va., July 16, 1863. 
 
 9. Sulphur Springs, October 12, 1863. 
 
 10. Little Auburn, Va., October 14, 1863. 
 
 11. Bristoe Station, October 14, 1863. 
 
UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 235 
 
 12. Mine Run, Va., November 29 to December 3, 1863. 
 
 13. Todd's Tavern, Va., May 5 and 6, 1864. 
 
 14. Wilderness, Va., May 7 and 8, 1864. 
 
 15. Anderson's Ford. 
 
 16. Beaver Dam Station, May 10, 1864. 
 
 17. Ground Squirrel Church, May 11, 1864. 
 
 18. Yellow Tavern, Va., May 11, 1864. 
 
 19. Inside of fortifications, near Richmond, Va., May 12, 
 
 1864. 
 
 20. Mechanicsville, Va., May 13, 1864. 
 
 21. Hawes' Shop, Va., May 28, 1864. 
 
 22. Old Tavern, Va., May 30, 1864. 
 
 23. Cold Harbor, Va., June i, 1864. 
 
 24. Trevillian Station, Va., June 11 and 12, 1864. 
 
 25. White House, Va., June 21 and 22, 1864. 
 
 26. St. Mary's Church, Va., June 24, 1864, where I was 
 
 taken prisoner. I was in many skirmishes where we 
 had harder fighting than we had in some of the im- 
 portant battles. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 
 
 Over-indulgence of my appetite after reaching Sher- 
 man's army had a bad effect on my system, no doubt, but 
 I was slowly gaining, and as soon as I got my horse I took 
 daily rides, which seemed to do me good. I confined my diet 
 to milk, raw eggs, and fruit; in fact, I could eat nothing 
 else ; but my appetite improved, and I felt encouraged. 
 
 On the first day after my return I met an old chum of 
 former days, and about the first words that he said were, 
 "Porter, your girl is married." "How is that?" said I. 
 And he related the circumstances. Although this is not a 
 novel, there is a little romance connected with the above 
 mentioned girl, Lieut. H. Call, and myself. When on vet- 
 eran furlough, during the winter of '63 and '64, I went to 
 see my best girl. She had been formerly Lieutenant Call's 
 sweetheart, but a year or two before had discarded him. 
 Having known her for a long time, I became quite attentive 
 to her, and my afifection being fully reciprocated, we became 
 engaged, with the understanding that we were to be mar- 
 ried on my return from the army. Call, in some way, be- 
 came aware of the fact. We were ostensibly good friends, 
 and were both in the service. Call was taken prisoner at 
 the battle of the Wilderness, about two months previous to 
 my capture. Both were in the same prison together, but 
 nothing was ever said between us about the girl. When he 
 
 ?^6 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 2'^y 
 
 was attacked with the yellow fever at Charleston , and they 
 were taking him to the hospital, I bid him good-bye, and 
 wished him a speedy recovery. He was too sick to talk. 
 That was the last I saw of Call. When we left Charleston 
 and moved to Columbia, S. C, he was still in the hospital 
 at Charleston, with many others. An exchange was ef- 
 fected by our government and the rebels, by which our 
 sick were sent home, and he recovered. He got a thirty 
 day's furlough and went home. He had a notice put in 
 the local papers that I was dead, and also informed my girl, 
 and pressed his suit with vigor, telling her that he would 
 marry her and take her with him to Washington when his 
 furlough expired. His mother helped him hurry up mat- 
 ters with the family, and the result was they were married. 
 I knew nothing of this, of course, until I got home, but I 
 took it as philosophically as I could, concluding that "all 
 is fair in love and war," but decided to call on them and get 
 my watch that I had left with her for safe keeping when we 
 parted. So I drove to their neighborhood and stopped over 
 night with a friend who knew of our engagement, and he 
 gave me the full particulars. The next morning I drove 
 up to their house and knocked at the door. Mrs. Call came 
 to the door, and as soon as she saw me she gave a scream, 
 and would have fallen to the floor had I not caught her and 
 placed her in a chair, and got some water, which soon re- 
 stored her to consciousness. Call was gone for the day, and 
 she insisted upon my staying. From her I learned the de- 
 ception he used to win her for his wife. From that day 
 that household was not a happy one, but she lived but a year 
 afterward. I got my watch and sadly returned home, a 
 disappointed man, but not entirely crushed. That which 
 cannot be cured must be endured. 
 
238 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 On my arrival home I learned of the assassination of our 
 great and beloved President, Abraham Lincoln, and of the 
 attempt on the life of the Secretary of State, Wm. H. Sew- 
 ard. No calamity has ever befallen the nation that went 
 so deeply to the hearts of the people. Every household in 
 the land was a house of mourning. So wrought up were 
 the feelings of the people that no one could even hint that 
 it was right, but they were hustled off to close quarters to 
 save their lives from an enraged people. Funeral services 
 were held in every church in the land. It was a dark day 
 for our nation. 
 
 My health improved a little, and I was able to ride about 
 the country and visit my old friends in Cortland and Che- 
 nango counties. I bought a mate to my horse, and con- 
 tented myself as well as I could in trying to get back to a 
 normal condition ; but it seemed a yery slow process. 
 
 M. M. Whitney, a member of the Seventy-sixth N. Y. 
 Infantry, was home from the army, recovering from a 
 wound, and together we traveled the country over, enjoying 
 ourselves the best we could, but my poor health continued 
 to be a handicap to all my plans and anticipations. It was 
 now June 24th, just a year since I was taken prisoner, and 
 what a year of events it had been to me ! 
 
 When I stopped in New York on my way home, my old 
 friend John Brown and his partner were carrying on a 
 sign-painting business, and they offered me a third interest 
 in the business if I would come down and do the outside 
 soliciting for work. It was a good offer, but I told the boys 
 that I could not accept it on account of my health ; as soon 
 as I thought myself able to stand it, I would let them know, 
 and if the offer was still open, I would accept it. 
 
 During the month of June I had become acquainted with 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 239 
 
 a young school teacher at Pitcher, Chenango County, a 
 sister to the young lady whom M. M. Whitney was paying 
 attention to, and the four of us conceived the idea of cele- 
 brating the Fourth of July in an old-fashioned way. There 
 was to be a grand celebration and parade at Cortland, N. Y., 
 with Daniel Dickinson as speaker. On the morning of the 
 Fourth we started out for Cortland with my span of horses 
 and the best carriage we could find, and I joined the pro- 
 cession riding the horse and using the same saddle and bridle 
 that I had ridden in the army, and wearing my army uni- 
 form. It was the only complete outfit that had been in active 
 service, in the procession. While there I met Captain Mead, 
 an old prison comrade, and he induced me to go to a dance 
 that night at Moravia, his residence, where also several of 
 the old boys of the Tenth Cavalry lived. Inside of an hour 
 the four of us were on our way to Moravia, and were wel- 
 comed with open arms by the boys of the Tenth Cavalry, and 
 also by some of the Seventy-sixth Regiment. About one 
 hundred couples had gathered at the largest hall in the 
 place, and we had a delightful time. In the morning, after 
 breakfast, we concluded to go to Auburn, N. Y. (my birth- 
 place) and visit the State Prison. The weather was fine, 
 and we all enjoyed the trip very much. At night we put 
 up at Parmalee's Hotel, where I was well acquainted, and 
 we were entertained in the best possible manner. The next 
 morning, after visiting many places of interest, we started 
 on the road for home, via Skaneateles and Skaneateles Lake, 
 on the east side, through Bordino, and on to Scott, where 
 we put up over night. The next day we started for home 
 via Cortland and Cincinnatus, where we arrived safe and 
 sound, making a good four days' celebration. We took with 
 us well-filled lunch baskets, and when we got hungry we 
 
240 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 camped on the side of the road in a friendly shade and en- 
 joyed our repast, picnic fashion, on the grass. Who could 
 enjoy a Fourth of July better than two old soldiers that 
 had just helped to save our glorious Union? Had we not 
 earned it? It was our first peaceful Fourth of July since 
 i860. Our partners, the ladies, enjoyed it immensely, too. 
 Their names were Elizabeth Beasley and her sister, Elenor 
 Beasley, both full of fun and life. Have never had so en- 
 joyable a Fourth since. 
 
 In a few days I got a letter from Captain Vanderbilt, re- 
 questing me to come to New York at once, and I started 
 July 8th. Van had a business proposition in which he wished 
 me to join. It looked favorable to me, and we started for 
 Baltimore the next day to investigate. We secured an option 
 on the rights in the city and county of Baltimore for a 
 patent soda fountain, then a great improvement on bottled 
 soda water. We went back to New York, and studied the 
 business carefully at a plant that was being operated in 
 New York City, and the more I saw of it the more I liked 
 the proposition. 
 
 On the 14th of July I went to New Haven to see Aunt 
 Bradley and other relatives who lived near there. My dear 
 old aunt, who was 87 years of age, was very glad to see 
 me, and to know that I had come through the war all right. 
 It was the last time I ever saw her. She died when 88 years 
 of age, retaining all her faculties very nearly to the end. 
 After a short visit I returned to New York, and went home 
 feeling considerably better. I arrived at Taylor July i8th, 
 having been gone ten days. As my health improved I felt 
 anxious to get into business, but wsts not yet in condition. 
 
 July 28th. I went to Syracuse to see the old regiment 
 once more before they were mustered out, as they were there 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 241 
 
 for that purpose. I had a very happy meeting with the boys 
 that composed the remnant of the old regiment. They were 
 feehng good, and gave me a hearty welcome. Only old 
 soldiers know what that means. As I bade each one good- 
 bye, many a tear was seen on the cheeks of those old vet- 
 erans, especially those of my old Company G, whose captain 
 I was through many a hard fought battle. God bless them ! 
 They were heroes all. I went back home feeling that I 
 had closed the last act of the war as far as I was concerned. 
 
 I had fully made up my mind to go into business with 
 (Vanderbilt in Baltimore, and wrote him to that efifect. I 
 was getting better all the while, and began to think about 
 doing something toward marrying and settling down to the 
 realities of life. I had enjoyed myself immensely since my 
 return from the war, notwithstanding my ill health. Being 
 naturally jovial, I could not do otherwise very well, and 
 therefore took advantage of my present opportunities to 
 make the best of them. On the 2d of August, 1865, during 
 a ride by moonlight, I promised to marry Miss Elizabeth 
 Beasley, of Pharsalia, Chenango County, but no time was 
 set for the wadding. 
 
 A few days after, I received a letter from Captain Van- 
 derbilt, saying that he was ready to begin our enterprise. 
 As we needed a man, I engaged M. M. Whitney, of Taylor, 
 to go to Baltimore, while Van was to close the contract for 
 that city, order generators, fountains, etc., and have them 
 shipped, while I was on the way overland, accompanied by 
 Whitney. I sent Vanderbilt five hundred dollars to com- 
 mence business, and meet us on our arrival at Baltimore, Md. 
 We had called on our best friends and bade them good-bye, 
 and on Sunday, August 13th, drove to Binghamton and put 
 up for the night. 
 
242 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 August 14th. Drove over the hills from Binghamton to 
 Montrose, Pa., five miles beyond Tunkhannock, where we 
 stayed over night with an old farmer. 
 
 August 15th. Rather warm to-day, but we drove to Nan- 
 ticoke, forty-three miles from our starting place. 
 
 August 1 6th. Drove forty-four miles over one of the 
 worst roads I ever traveled over, and reached Danville at 
 sunset. 
 
 August 17th. We made forty-three miles to-day, and 
 stopped at Montgomery's Crossing. Our drive, thus far, 
 had been very rough, except in the Wyoming Valley, which 
 we went through on the 15th, passing the monument that 
 marks the site of the massacre of 1778. It is a charming 
 valley, surrounded by mountains, here and there picturesque 
 old buildings, barns, and old orchards, with apple trees over 
 one hundred years old. 
 
 On the 1 8th we stopped at noon, five miles from Harris- 
 burg, Pa., two hundred and thirty-five miles from our start- 
 ing point, making an average of 47 miles a day. A short 
 distance out of Harrisburg we drove up to a road house 
 to water the horses. Two men came out and examined 
 my horses rather closely, and we were asked if they were 
 for sale. "Yes," said I. "What do you want for them?" 
 asked one. "Seven hundred dollars," I answered. They 
 said no more, jumped into a buggy, and drove away on the 
 same road we were going. We caught them in about a mile 
 and they motioned us to stop. We asked what was wanted, 
 and found that one was a sheriff and the other a deputy. 
 We were suspected of having a stolen team, but we soon 
 convinced them of their mistake, and went on our way re- 
 joicing. We stopped at Dillstown, Pa., that night, and I 
 was up nearly all night with one of my horses, that was 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 243 
 
 very sick; but he was better In the morning, and we drove 
 on to Gettysburg, reaching there just at night, the 19th of 
 
 August. ^ 
 
 It being Saturday night, we concluded to stop over bun- 
 day and take a look at the old battle field where we had 
 both fought two years before. As our regiment was sta- 
 tioned there during the winter of '61 and '62, I was quite 
 well acquainted, and looked up a number of my old acquam- 
 tances, among them Mary Weaver, Annie Garlach, Vina 
 Werrick, and Maggie Pierce, besides several others. We 
 visited the National Cemetery, and went to the spot where 
 the Seventy-sixth Regiment fought, and many other parts 
 of the battlefield. We made calls on many of the old fami- 
 lies we used to know, making it altogether a very busy Sun- 
 day with us, but we enjoyed it to the utmost. 
 
 Mondav, August 21st. We started over the Baltimore 
 pike for Baltimore, highly pleased with our visit, and pleased 
 also that the day's rest had brought my sick horse back to 
 a normal condition. The day was fine and the road good. 
 We stopped at a little town that night where they had a 
 dance, which we joined, and tripped the fantastic toe until 
 the wee small hours of morning. 
 
 Auo-ust 22d. We arrived in Baltimore In good shape, hav- 
 ing had a most enjoyable trip. Found Vanderbilt awaiting 
 us though he had arrived only the day before. We at once 
 rented a building on President Street, near the Philadelphia, 
 Baltimore & Wilmington Depot, for twenty-five dollars per 
 month, and found a good place to board at a private house 
 for all three of us. Our goods arrived, and we commenced 
 business, though with not very flattering success ; but we had 
 lots of work to do in getting ready. I felt satisfied that we 
 had a good thing, and that we could make it pay. We dia 
 
244 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 not get ready to put in our first apparatus until the 7th 
 of September, 1865. It was rather late in the season to 
 begin the soda water business, but we thought if we could 
 make expenses during the winter and increase our customers 
 we could do a good business the next summer. On the 8th 
 we got another customer, but our money was getting short, 
 and it was necessary to obtain more cash capital. My 
 health poor, with no p, aspects for money to keep up so soon 
 after starting, was not a very glorious outlook, although 
 our apparatus gave splendid satisfaction. I finally came 
 to the conclusion that I had to raise some money if we kept 
 the business going. Vanderbilt had no way of raising any, 
 and I found that I had to form myself into a ways and 
 means committee to get funds. I went to Washington, but 
 failed there. I wrote to A. D. Waters of Cortland, and 
 finally went to Cortland, and secured six hundred dollars. I 
 then went to Genoa and saw my old friend Captain Pierce, 
 and had a good visit with him. Saw my best girl, and vis- 
 ited my father. Made arrangements to get married about 
 New Year's, 1866. On my return to Baltimore I took the 
 darky, Joseph Page, back with me to take care of the horses. 
 Arriving in Baltimore, I found that the business had in- 
 creased considerably, having gained several new customers, 
 and our prospects looked brighter for business. About this 
 time Van and I made M. M. Whitney an offer to go into 
 partnership with us if he could raise a thousand dollars. He 
 went home and raised the money, and that made us easy. 
 
 Van went to New York to see his girl, and came back 
 with a proposition to go into the plastic roofing business, 
 which would not cost us much, and we concluded to take 
 hold of it. Van was to run the roofing, and Whitney and 
 myself were to run the soda business. 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 245 
 
 The soda business was a little dull, but increasing. Every- 
 thing went along very well up to Christmas, 1865. In those 
 days the city of Baltimore seemed to go wild on that day. 
 The whole city was drunk, it seemed to me. All private, 
 as well as public houses, were open, with a full assortment 
 of eatables and drinkables, free to everybody. I never saw 
 a whole city drunk before. It was something new to us 
 Northerners. 
 
 The next day, December 26th, I started for New York 
 to marry and bring my wife to Baltimore. I arrived at 
 Taylor on the 28th, and went to Pharsalia, where my in- 
 tended resided with her parents. On New Year's Eve. De- 
 cember 31, 1865, I was married to Elizabeth Beasley at her 
 home. We had a very quiet wedding, with only the family 
 and two or three friends present. On New Year's Day, 
 1866, we went to Smith vllle to see my father and brother, 
 returning the next day, and left for Cortland the day after. 
 From thence we went to New York, where we stopped over 
 night, then went to see my relatives at New Haven and 
 vicinity. It was bitter cold weather, and we nearly froze 
 going from place to place, which made our visit much 
 shorter than it would have been had the weather been pleas- 
 ant. 
 
 January loth. We arrived at Baltimore, and as I had a 
 house all ready to go into, we were soon living as cosily 
 as could be. I came across an old soldier from the West, 
 Captain Hathaway, whom we hired for four hundred dol- 
 lars a year, and we also borrowed a thousand dollars for a 
 year from him at 7 per cent. Interest. Business seemed to 
 pick up considerably, and everything looked favorable for 
 a good year. Vanderbilt h3,d commenced to roof some build- 
 ings, so that on the first of February our prospects looked 
 
246 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 i 
 
 very bright. The effects of prison life still clung to me, 
 and I had many poor spells, but soon recuperated, so that 
 I was able to work most of the time. On the 3d of March 
 I was thirty-four years old. My wife was twenty-four years 
 of age on the nth of December preceding. 
 
 About the middle of April, Vanderbilt went to New York 
 and was married on the 17th, and brought his wife to Balti- 
 more and went to housekeeping. We engaged Delos E. 
 Landers, an old soldier of my company, to keep our books. 
 He brought his wife to Baltimore, and we all boarded with 
 him. Van was more extravagant than the rest of us, and 
 drew out more money than Whitney and I combined ; con- 
 sequently there was some feeling engendered as to the out- 
 come. Expenses were increasing faster than the profits of 
 the business. I said nothing, but saw that something must 
 be done to keep the expenses down, in which Mr. Van did 
 not agree; but our business continued to increase. I man- 
 aged to keep our notes from going to protest, but it was a 
 great struggle for me, as my partners seemed to be willing 
 to let me shoulder the responsibility for the whole thing. 
 Matters went along, but not very smoothly, until the 1st of 
 August, when a note became due at the bank, and I had just 
 money enough to meet it. Van's wife being in New York, 
 he took it in his head to go after her, and without a word 
 of notification to anyone went to the bank, drew out forty 
 dollars, and left for New York. When I went to the bank 
 to pay the note, the cashier informed me I was short forty 
 dollars, Mr. Vanderbilt having drawn that amount the Sat- 
 urday before. 
 
 On his return I called upon him for repayment of the 
 money, and there was trouble at once. I informed him that 
 he must either buy me out or sell to me, and that the matter 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 247 
 
 must be closed up within forty-eight hours. After some 
 warm controversy he finally accepted my offer. He took 
 over the roofing business, and I the interest in the soda foun- 
 tain business, paying him for his services with the firm, and 
 thus dissolved the partnership. This left Whitney and I 
 as partners still, I with two-thirds and Whitney with one- 
 third. This occurred on August 8th, the day that we had 
 set for my wife to go home on a visit, and I did not let the 
 difficultv 'interfere with this arrangement. On the 9th we 
 drew up all papers, notes, and so forth, and made a com- 
 plete settlement. The readjustment left Captain Hathaway 
 out, and I settled with him, which left Landers, Whitney 
 and mvself to carry on the soda business. Whitney and I 
 drew up our writings, and we went ahead more satisfac- 
 torily. Expenses were cut down, and we began to get a 
 little monev ahead; in fact, the business began to prosper. 
 About the '20th of August I had a letter from my wifes 
 sister, Mrs. Julia E. Sage, who lived in or near Flint, Mich., 
 saying that her husband was dead, and that she intended 
 to come to Baltimore to reside with us as soon as she could 
 settle up the estate. Her husband had been an officer m 
 the Civil War, and he had left her an insurance policy on his 
 
 life in her favor. 
 
 August 23d. We arrived in Baltimore just one year ago 
 this day, and on reviewing our situation concluded, under 
 the circumstances, we had done very well. Though con- 
 siderably in debt, we had our business well established and 
 growing, and, all in all, we had no cause to complam. As 
 the weather got cooler our business began to fall off, and we 
 needed more monev. Notes came due and it was hard work 
 to meet them. Our business was all right, but our capital 
 was insufficient to keep it going; but somehow, and I can 
 
248 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 hardly tell how, we kept going, and kept the wolf from 
 the door. This state of affairs continued till October 12th, 
 when some money had to be raised, and I knew of no way 
 except to go North and apply to my friends once more. 
 I found my wife at her father's, in good health, then started 
 out to find some money. I had rather poor success until 
 I found my friend O. F. Forbes, from whom I obtained two 
 hundred and fifty dollars for a year, which would tide us 
 over for a time. After visiting my father at Smithville for 
 a day, we started for Baltimore, where we arrived safe and 
 sound, and glad to get back. Soon after our return I had 
 to commence suit against my landlord — ^Jones by name — 
 and we had quite an amusing trial before a justice of the 
 peace. I was my own lawyer, and after a good deal of fun, 
 and not much swearing, I won my suit, and Jones in turn 
 sued me. I non-suited him, and that ended the affair. When 
 I had lived in his house long enough to get my pay, I vacated 
 it, and we were square. We then commenced keeping 
 house over our place of business. Whitney had gone 
 North, and I engaged D. E. Landers to work for us the 
 next year for seven hundred dollars. We were looking for 
 Lib's (my wife) sister to come and live with us. The busi- 
 ness was fair. I was in tolerably good health, but hadn't 
 got over the effects of my prison life ; my wife was in good 
 health, and the prospects for business were very good. 
 
 New Year's Day, 1867. I was married just one year ago 
 last night. Since Vanderbilt left us we have got along 
 very smoothly. Our capital is rather short, but we have 
 got to make the best of it. Our credit is good, and we have 
 not failed to meet our obligations so far. The business is 
 slowly increasing, and our apparatus is taking first rate ; we 
 ought to have a good season the coming summer. "Wq 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 249 
 
 were busy most of the time getting ready for the opening 
 of the season, which in Baltimore generally begins in March. 
 On January 23d my wife's sister, Mrs. Julia E. Sage, ar- 
 rived, and took up her residence with us. She brought some 
 money with her, and I borrowed fifteen hundred dollars 
 from her. , 
 
 I closed up with Vanderbilt, and went to Philadelphia 
 and settled with J. D. Lynde, of whom we bought the patent, 
 and felt easy in regard to money matters. 
 
 February 13th. I settled up with Captain Hathaway in 
 full to-day ; also sent A. D. Waters the amount I owed him. 
 Business is improving a little. Our little family are enjoying 
 themselves, and all seem quite happy. 
 
 March 3, 1867. To-day I am thirty-five years of age, and 
 ought to be in first-class health, but army life was a little 
 too much for me. As the spring opened the business im- 
 proved. Customers increased and we were getting along 
 very well, but for some reason there seemed to be a good 
 deal of suppressed feeling on the part of Landers and Whit- 
 ney toward me, yet no open rupture. They appeared to 
 be anxious to crowd me out of the business in some way, 
 but did not have the capital to back them. However, we 
 had no row, and kept on '^sawing wood" as usual, and work- 
 ing to make the business a success. 
 
 August 8th. My wife and her sister went North to visit 
 the old folks, and did not return till the nth of September, 
 and soon after, Whitney and Landers boarded with us again 
 and there was a little more cordiality in the firm. My wife 
 and I took out a joint policy of insurance in favor of the 
 survivor for twelve hundred dollars, and I also had my 
 horses insured. 
 
 We enjoyed ourselves every Sunday by taking a ride put 
 
250 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 into the country in various directions over the fine oyster- 
 shell roads about Baltimore, for which that city is noted. 
 The city had then a population of a little less than 300,000. 
 It was famous for road houses, and soft-shell crabs at sum- 
 mer resorts, where good dinners were a specialty. There 
 Avere also many steamboat excursions down the bay to vari- 
 ous dancing pavilions, bowling alleys, and amusements of 
 all kinds. We managed to enjoy ourselves very much. Bal- 
 timore has much fruit when in season, and peaches were 
 very plentiful. We could buy fine ones that season for ten 
 cents a basket. Fresh oysters, too, could be bought for 
 twenty-five cents a gallon. I think Baltimore, at that time, 
 was one of the cheapest places to live in the United States. 
 
 When the business began to fall off in October, Whitney 
 seemed to be discontented with his one-third of the busi- 
 ness. So he offered to buy or sell, and wanted me to set a 
 price. After a while he offered to sell his interest for three 
 thousand dollars, I to pay all debts of the firm. So I set my 
 price at six thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, and put 
 in one of my horses, which heretofore had not been a part 
 of the firm's property. I knew that Whitney had no way 
 of raising the money, and I began to look about to see if I 
 could arrange to buy him out. In the meantime we were 
 trying to settle upon the terms, which we finally agreed upon, 
 and I gave him two hundred dollars down, and notes run- 
 ning thirty, sixty and ninety days, six months, one year, and 
 the last note twenty-three months, so it made it quite easy 
 to meet them if I could keep the business going profitably. 
 
 November 21st. We closed up the bargain, and I owned 
 the business alone, but owed six thousand dollars, which 
 had to be got out of the business by my own exertions, which 
 I felt equal to, provided I could keep my health. Some days 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 251 
 
 before we made our bargain I had sent for Charley Beasley 
 (my wife's brother) to come to Baltimore and work for me, 
 and he got there November 19th. 
 
 On the 23d M. M. Whitney went home, having cleared a 
 couple of thousand dollars in fourteen months, which paid 
 him very well. I soon went to Philadelphia to see Mr. Lynde 
 about the price of the patent, and although he was a very 
 close man in money matters, I got him to throw off a thou- 
 sand dollars on the purchase price for the city and county 
 of Baltimore and to claim no further royalty on sales. _ I 
 gave him notes for the balance due on the purchase price, 
 without interest. That was the first stroke of management 
 after I had become proprietor. 
 
 In December I went to see my father in Sm.thville, as 
 well as to try to raise some money, or find where I could 
 get some when I needed it, but did not meet with much 
 success I got back to Baltimore the first day of January, 
 1868 in time for a turkey dinner with my family, Landers 
 and his wife, and Julia Rorapaugh, a sister of Landers wife, 
 and we had a jolly time. All were former residents of Cort- 
 land and Chenango counties, New York. A few days after 
 mv return I received from A. D. Waters of Cortland money 
 enough to carry me through the winter and meet all my 
 obligations, and felt greatly relieved. I was taken sick soon 
 after, and was unable to do anything for two weeks,_ but 
 finallv got about again, though badly used up. The winter 
 of sixtv-seven and sixty-eight was a very hard and cold one, 
 the worst known for years, and in consequence the business 
 was very dull. I made up my mind that I would find some- 
 thing to make money at during the winter before another 
 season rolled around. 
 February 29th. Received news to-day from my brother, 
 
252 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Wm. E. Porter, that my father died suddenly on the 25tH 
 of February. I could hardly reaHze it. Peace to his ashes, 
 God bless him! He was ever a kind father to me. I had 
 been in hopes that he would be able to come and live with 
 me, so I could raise him more comfortable than he was with 
 my brother ; but alas ! he was gone. He was seventy-seven 
 years of age. 
 
 March 3d, my birthday, was one of the coldest days of 
 the winter. Health and business poor, and I am worrying 
 too much. I always feel good when I am well, no matter 
 how things go, but when I am sick everything goes wrong ; 
 but I am in hopes that my will power will carry me through 
 all right. 
 
 March and April were very cold months for Baltimore, but 
 May came in all right, and business was pretty good. . A 
 good many of the old soldier boys dropped in to see me, 
 and we had some one on a visit to us most of the time. My 
 health was somewhat better as the weather grew warmer, 
 and we were able to resume our trips to the country and 
 get a little fresh air and recreation every Sunday. We had 
 made the acquaintance of a good many first-class people, 
 and made many social calls. 
 
 On June 20th I received a letter saying that my best 
 and noblest friend and old schoolmate, John G. Pierce, 
 died June 15, 1868. He was a man that, had he lived, would 
 have made his mark in the world, for he had all the good 
 and great elements of character, as well as marked ability 
 far above the average. Words cannot express my feelings 
 in regard to the loss, not only to me, but to all his friends 
 and relatives. A more jovial or congenial companion I 
 never knew. We loved one another. I enlisted with him 
 for the war that w^ could be near each other during thQ 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 253 
 
 time of clanger. He was a bold and fearless soldier, and 
 all who knew him loved him. I could not suppress the 
 tears as I read the letter containing the sad news. We were 
 more than brothers. He was thoroughly educated, and fol- 
 lowed the profession of law, and had already outstripped 
 many a man much older than himself in his profession. He 
 studied law with Mr. Ballard, Ex-Secretary of State, and I 
 heard Mr. Ballard say that he was the brightest student 
 he ever had in his office. Noble soul! Peace to him for 
 ever and ever ! 
 
 On the first of July I hired a man, John Buckley by name, 
 who had been driving a wagon for a bottler. He brought 
 me a good many new customers and increased my busi- 
 ness considerably. He worked for me as long as I was in 
 business in Baltimore, and was the best man I ever had. 
 I don't think I ever lost a cent by him while he was work- 
 ing for me. An honest man is surely the noblest work of 
 God. I was meeting all my notes and obligations as fast 
 as they became due, but it was uphill work, and sometimes 
 I had to shake off the blues. When October came, I found 
 myself a little short of money, and had to strike out for 
 the North again to raise funds to meet some notes that 
 would soon become due. It seemed like one continual hunt 
 for money to keep going, but I had great hopes that the 
 business would eventually get me out of debt all right, and 
 I worked cheerfully on, though it was a great struggle and 
 constant effort. 
 
 In November, G. S. Hotchkiss came to see me, and was 
 so well pleased with my increase of business that he pro- 
 posed to go to work for me and put in a thousand dollars 
 and call the business a joint stock concern on a capital of 
 eight thousand dollars. I accepted the offer, and it carried 
 
254 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 me through the winter in good shape. Hotchkiss was to 
 commence work for me in the spring. I had two hundred 
 three-gallon cider kegs made, and commenced buying apples 
 to make cider. I went to Harrisburg, Pa., and got a hand 
 cider press, and started the cider business, which kept all 
 hands busy up to New Year's. 
 
 I decided to move into a larger place as soon as I could 
 find one, and break up housekeeping and go to boarding. 
 I finally found a good place that I could get possession of 
 in February. 
 
 New Year's Day, 1869. Getting along well, but business 
 rather dull. Have got my new place fitted up nicely at 753^ 
 Eastern Avenue, at the foot of High Street. 
 
 We move about the 20th of February, and break up house- 
 keeping. We have already gone to board with Sam de 
 Haven. Am making more than expenses this winter, which 
 is better than I have done any winter before. 
 
 March 3, 1869. Am thirty-seven years old to-day. Have 
 been to New York, and shall introduce the syphon bottle 
 for mineral waters, the first introduced south of New York. 
 Hope it will be a good feature. Hotchkiss will begin work 
 to-morrow, March 15th. Prospects look flattering for a 
 good season. 
 
 The spring opened with fair business, and I put on three 
 wagons and employed another man. Charley Beasley had 
 to go home, and his brother Harvey came down to take his 
 place, and put in five hundred dollars for a year, which 
 made me easy again regarding money matters. I was get- 
 ting some of my debts wiped out, and, on the whole, was 
 getting along very well, though it seemed slow. I had got 
 my business well in hand, and was running bottled stuff for 
 shipment. Syphons with all kinds of mineral waters, and 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 255 
 
 also charged fountains of wine, furnished seventeen kinds 
 of syrups, and was fully equipped to run cider on an ex- 
 tensive scale the next winter. 
 
 July loth. Sent my wife North for her summer visit, 
 and she did not come back until September 4th, well and 
 hearty. Hardly think I will get out of debt this year, though 
 I have gained on it considerably. We have changed our 
 boarding place twice, but are now domesticated at Mrs. 
 Noris', ^2 East Pratt Street. Bought a great many apples 
 and made cider, which pays me first rate. Kept all my men 
 at work to the middle of January, 1870. Shall keep them 
 all through the year this year. Settled up with Hotchkiss. 
 His thousand paid him 35 per cent., or three hundred and 
 fifty dollars for the use of his thousand. 
 
 It is now January 9, 1870, and I have concluded to sell 
 out my business as soon as I can, on account of my health. 
 I am a member of the American Fish Culturists' Society, 
 and think of going into fish culture. Offer my business for 
 eighteen thousand dollars, and it will be for sale until I can 
 sell it out. 
 
 May 1st. We went to board with Mrs. F. O. Hyzer, a 
 noted spiritualistic medium. Am doing first rate now; in 
 fact, my business has been good all summer, and it looks 
 now as if I would get out of debt entirely by a year from 
 now. My credit is first class and my health is somewhat 
 better. Have got my business into working order. This 
 past summer I put on the streets of Baltimore two of the 
 finest delivery wagons in the city, and I am now furnishing 
 eleven out of the thirteen first-class hotels of this city, all 
 of the theatres, and three hundred of the first-class saloons, 
 and my business is still growing, but it has been very hard 
 work bringing it up to where it is at the present time. Busi- 
 
256 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ness in those days was a very different proposition from 
 what it is now (1902). There were no telephones or elec- 
 tric cars, or even horse cars, except in the main streets. 
 Over one-half of the business men of the city drove out of 
 town every afternoon during the summer, and they ran 
 things at a much slower pace than is done in the twentieth 
 century. It took two hours by rail to get to Washington, 
 D. C, from Baltimore, just forty miles, where the schedule 
 time of the present day is forty-five minutes; and all New 
 York and Washington trains were hauled by horses through 
 Pratt Street from one depot to another; but I don't know 
 that people are any happier now than then. 
 
 January i, 1871. Business fair, and I keep all hands 
 over winter. My health is as good now as it has been since 
 I have been in Baltimore. Business matters are moving 
 along quite comfortably, and I am still trying to sell out 
 my business. 
 
 March 3, 1871. Celebrated my birthday very quietly, this 
 being my 39th. Settled up with Mrs. J. E. Sage, and gave 
 her a new note for twelve hundred dollars. In May sent my 
 wife North for the summer, and went to board at the U. S. 
 Hotel on President Street. Had a very good summer. My 
 wife returned in the early fall, in good health, and looked up 
 a new boarding place. Owe but little now. 
 
 December i, 1871. Expect to attend the American Fish 
 Culturists' Association, which meets at Albany on the 7th 
 of February, 1872. Am gathering all the information in 
 regard to fish culture that I can, with the intention of en- 
 gaging in the business as soon as I can dispose of my busi- 
 ness here. I am now trying to find a good location with a 
 good spring of water, suitable for the business. Have got 
 old Joe Van Cleve, of Newark, N. J., to look over the coun- 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 257 
 
 try in the vicinity of New York for a spring. My wife is 
 delighted with the idea of leaving Baltimore, but we have 
 to sell first. 
 
 January i, 1872, opened rather cold. I had had a very 
 good winter's sales, but they would soon fall off after the 
 first of the year. I was getting pretty well out of debt and 
 had a working bank account. 
 
 February 7th found me in Albany, N. Y., in attendance at 
 the Fish Culturists' Convention. There were only twenty 
 of us altogether. This was the first regular meeting of the 
 association in the United States, and was composed of such 
 men as Ex-Governor Horatio Seymour, Seth Green, Geo. 
 Sheppard Page, Fred Mather, A. S. Collins, and two or 
 three others of New York ; Livingstone Stone, of New 
 Hampshire ; Bowles, of the Springfield Republican, Spring- 
 field, Mass.; Dr. Slack, of New Jersey. 
 
 There were many interesting papers read, and about twen- 
 ty new members enrolled. I came away from that meeting 
 fully resolved to engage in fish culture, more particularly 
 trout culture, as soon as I could sell out my business and 
 find a suitable location for the purpose. Through the sole 
 efforts of Geo. S. Page, one of the best men I ever knew, 
 an appropriation of fifteen thousand dollars was obtained 
 from the U. S. Congress for the establishment of a fish com- 
 mission, with Mr. Spencer T. Baird for commissioner, and 
 from that time to the present day, 1902, the Fish Commis- 
 sion of the United States has been one of the best institu- 
 tions of our Government. To R. B. Roosevelt, of New York, 
 for his devotion to the cause as president of the association 
 for several years, the people of the United States are deeply 
 indebted. Had it not been for that gathering of kindred 
 spirits in a little bedroom in the Globe Hotel, of Albany, in 
 
^58 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 February, 1872, our inland streams would hardly pay to 
 even attempt to catch a mess of fish. The Pacific Coast 
 would not have striped bass, catfish, and many other kinds 
 of fish now seen daily in the markets there. The salmon 
 rivers would long ago have been depleted, and trout streams 
 would long ago have been among the ''has beens." I feel 
 it an honor to have been one who, in a feeble way, helped 
 to bring forth such grand results. 
 
 Soon after my return to Baltimore I visited different fish 
 culture establishments to learn what I needed to establish 
 a fish farm, among them Seth Green's fish ponds at Roches- 
 ter, N. Y., where A. S. Collins had charge ; Dr. Slack's 
 place in New Jersey, M. H. Christler's at Kinderhook, N. Y., 
 and a little town in the center of Pennsylvania. About 
 this time Van Cleve wrote me that he had two or three 
 places in view, and wished me to come and look at them. 
 We rode two or three days without finding anything satis- 
 factory, and I was getting discouraged about finding a suit- 
 able place near New York, but late in the afternoon, on our 
 way back to Newark, we discovered a stream that appar- 
 ently came from a spring, and stopped to examine it. We 
 followed it up a few hundred feet to its head, and found 
 a spring flowing at the rate of thirteen hundred gallons 
 a minute, and the water about the right temperature. It 
 was the best spring I had seen anywhere for the purpose. 
 The question now was, "could we buy the property?" Van 
 Cleve knew the parties who owned it, and said that he would 
 find out in a few days and let me know. There was a spring 
 at Leesburg, Va., that I had heard of, and I wished to see 
 that before I made any arrangements to buy the one that 
 we had found. So I told Van to wait till I went down there 
 to investigate, and that I would let him know at the earliest 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 259 
 
 moment. Soon after going back to Baltimore I made a trip 
 to Leesburg, Va., to see the great spring I had heard so 
 much about. It is a few miles north of Leesburg, and I got 
 a horse at the sleepy old town, and a guide, and drove out 
 to see it. It was a large spring, and had a large flow of 
 water, perhaps larger than the one in New Jersey, but I 
 found the temperature altogether too warm for trout, but 
 all right for raising carp. When I got home I wrote to Van 
 Cleve to secure the spring in Franklin Township, New Jer- 
 sey, at as reasonable terms as possible. The property had 
 to be bought from two different parties, and it was some 
 time before I could arrange matters satisfactorily ; but finally 
 I got it, and was highly elated over it. 
 
 The next thing was to sell my business in Baltimore. I 
 advertised, but found no buyer. As spring came on the 
 business increased rapidly, and soon got me out of debt, 
 and 1 paid a good sum on the land I had bought in Jersey. 
 The summer of 1872 was the hottest known for years, con- 
 sequently increased my business without any increase of 
 expenses, and I made money fast. On the fifth of June I 
 lost my favorite horse, which died suddenly. He was a 
 splendid animal, and I could have sold him for seven hun- 
 dred dollars, but as he had carried me safely through the 
 celebrated Stoneman raid and several hard fought battles 
 during the war. I would not part with him at any price. 
 I would make him lie down flat on the ground, then place 
 my head on his neck and go to sleep. He would not stir 
 tilJ I raised my head, when he would be on his feet in an 
 instant. I could lie down on the ground and go to sleep at 
 any time, with the bridle reins over my arm, and he would 
 never disturb or step on me, though he would tramp about 
 the length of the reins, but never pull on them to wake me 
 
26o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 up. If ever I lOved an animal, I loved this horse, and it 
 sorely grieved me to lose him. 
 
 I sent my wife home on a visit, July i8th, accompanying 
 her as far as New York City, where I had business. I vis- 
 ited my spring with Mr. Hopper and Van Cleve, and tried 
 to sell my Baltimore interests to Mr. Hopper for his son, 
 whom he wished to start in a good business. He came down 
 to Baltimore from Paterson, N. J., where he lived, to look 
 the matter over with his son, but we didn't make a trade. 
 
 By the middle of August I had paid two thousand 
 three hundred dollars on my spring property, and gave a 
 mortgage on the balance of thirteen hundred dollars, to run 
 as long as I wished; interest payable semi-annually. 
 
 September 19th. Went after my wife, and to make a 
 short visit in York State. My health was better than it had 
 been for some time, notwithstanding I had been working 
 hard all summer. While I was gone, Van Cleve and I 
 bought eleven acres more of land adjoining the spring prop- 
 erty, for speculation. 
 
 Back to Baltimore, September 28th. Have been unable 
 to sell up to the present time, but the business is paying 
 well, and I am running it for all it is worth. In October, 
 Van Cleve and I made a trip to visit several fish hatcheries, 
 where they had begun taking spawn, and I learned so much 
 that I was satisfied I could carry the business to success. 
 
 As winter came on I did not relax my efforts in pushing 
 my business while trying to sell it. On the first of January, 
 1873, I found by my books that I had sold thirty-five thou- 
 sand dollars worth of soda, syrups, mineral waters, cider, 
 etc., for the past year, with a net profit of ten thousand dol- 
 lars. My main competition was the firm of Williams & Son. 
 The bottlers did not disturb me, for I had secured all their 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 261 
 
 best customers. As I was atixious to dispose oijV?^^^ 
 I concluded to see Mr. Williams and offer to sell to hm^ 
 At first he laughed at me, as he thought that I was not domg 
 half the business he was. After several v,s>ts to h"" ^ J"* 
 him to come down and examine my books. He at once 
 became interested, and began to make =7«/!>surd offers 
 but I would not drop much on the pnce I had set, and he 
 began to raise a little, and on St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 
 we came together and the bargain was made. 
 
 Williams and his son-in-law were to pay me fourteen 
 thousand dollars, half down, and the balance on notes of a 
 thousand dollars each, every three months, I to retain one 
 horse and the debts due, which were over one thousand dol- 
 lars, making over fifteen thousand dollars for *« busine . 
 It was a good sale, and I got my pay w.&out much trouble. 
 On the seventh of April, 1873, I left Baltimore for Cort- 
 land N Y., with my horse, on the train as far as Bing- 
 hamton, and rode him from there to Cordand, where my 
 wife awaited me. At Cortland I bought a wagon and har- 
 ness, and my wife and I drove to the town of Pharsaha 
 where her parents lived, and leaving her there I star ed 
 for New York. I visited all the fish establishments in he 
 New England States as far north as Dixfield, Me , on the 
 Androscoggin River. I first went to Springfield, Mass., and 
 saw B. F. Boles, and learned where there were trout ponds 
 on the west side of the Connecticut River ; visited them but 
 learned very little. From thence I went to Bellows Falls, 
 Vt then by rail to L. Stone's place on the New Hampshire 
 «ide of the river, and saw something worth seeing at his 
 place Mr. Stone was not at home, but the woman m 
 charge gave me much information which was very valuable 
 tome From thence I crossed the State of New Hampshire 
 
262 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 into Maine. I took the railroad from Portland north that 
 went to Farmington, and stopped at a little town by the 
 name of Wilton. From this point I had to drive over to 
 Dixfield, ten miles, to see Mr. Stanley, one of the fish com- 
 missioners of the State, who was engaged in raising trout. 
 I left the little town of Wilton about 4 p.m. to drive over 
 but soon encountered huge snow drifts, and for several miles 
 had to walk the horse until I reached the banks of the Andro- 
 scoggin River. Consequently I did not reach Dixfield until 
 about ten o'clock at night. It was a cold, freezing night, 
 and I was chilled through when I reached the hotel of the 
 place, where a feeble light was glimmering from one of the 
 windows. I soon aroused the landlord, and he showed me 
 the way into the bar-room, where an open fireplace held 
 a few dying embers that shed forth a sickly amount of light 
 and heat, and a solitary old man of fifty or sixty years of 
 age sat hovering over them. He made room for me, and 
 while the landlord was taking care of my horse he opened 
 upon me in true Yankee spirit a flood of questions as to my 
 business, where I was from, where I was going, etc., etc., 
 while I, shivering with the cold, was trying to get warm, 
 and answering him in monosyllables. Finally the landlord 
 came in and put on a few chips which nearly put the fire 
 out, and asked if I wanted supper. I told him no, but if he 
 had a little good whiskey or brandy I would like a drink to 
 warm me up. He says: **I am very sorry, but you know 
 the Maine law is in force, and they don't allow us to sell or 
 give away liquors of any kind." I got up and turned about, 
 and tried my best to get warm, but could not. Pretty soon, 
 as I sat brooding over my forlorn situation, the old gent 
 spoken of ^ot up and stretched, "Wall," said he, "I guess 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 263 
 
 I'll eo home." Then with a "Good-night, stranger," he 
 p he' out and down the steps to the street. He had^ot 
 gone ten steps when the landlord jumped out w^h a hghted 
 fallow candle in his hand, touched me on he fjoulder and 
 n^otioned me to follow him. "What for? ^-^'^J- J^^t 
 with me," he replied, in a whisper, and, ' smelhng a mous 
 I went He led me to a door in the hall "tider the stairs 
 hit Id down to the cellar. "Don't be afra.d," he sa^ 
 "follow me." And I followed. When we reached the bot- 
 tom of the stairs he struck out straight across the cellar for 
 alne wall, and when he reached it, placed his hand upon 
 one of the stones, when a door flew open as though a part o 
 the wall had caved in. He stepped into a large ■"oom, with 
 a able in the center, upon which were bottles of al kinds 
 of liquors, a pail of water, and several tu-Mers. I stood 
 for an instant in astonishment. On three sides of he apart 
 n.ent, barrels of all kinds of liquors, piled three or jour h^g- 
 lined the room. Pointing to the table, he asked, What 
 will ve have?" "Some good whiskey," I said, and I got 1 , 
 paid' for it, and asked the old gentleman to take a drink 
 Uich he did not hesitate to do; and we went «Pf' ^=. ^^^ 
 fire was better, and seemed to warm me easier than before, 
 and I soon felt quite comfortable. 
 
 Said I- "Landlord, how is it that you have a room fuU 
 of liquor, and a stranger like myself cannot get a drmk 
 01 uquui, „,„,?" "Wall I'll tell ve. You see, 
 
 even for medicmal purposes? Wall, 1 n teii > 
 we have a prohibition law and we have to lay m a stock dur- 
 Tng the winter and haul it from the railroad when there is 
 good sleighing, and in the dead of night, and store it away 
 lefore day. It all comes in crockery crates, each barre 
 '.tked -Crockery'; and you see, I've iust laid in a years 
 stock." After some further conversation I went to bed, and 
 
264 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 when I came downstairs in the morning the landlord met 
 me at the bottom of the stairs, and with his thumb thrown 
 over his shoulder in the direction of the cellar door, think- 
 ing, of course, I would want a drink before breakfast. *'Oh 
 no," said I, "I never drink before breakfast." The old 
 man, somewhat crestfallen, I thought, said: "Walk in to 
 breakfast." I had a good meal, and learning where I could 
 find Mr. Stanley, I started up the street, but had gone only 
 a short distance when I was hailed from the other side 
 by the man I had met at the hotel the night before. I 
 stopped, and he came over to tell me how sorry he was for 
 me the night before when I could not get a drink, and asked 
 me if I wouldn't step over to his house and take a drink 
 with him. I thanked him, and went on up to Stanley's 
 store. Mr. Stanley seemed to be the leading man of the 
 town. He kept the post office, a drug store, groceries, dry 
 goods, and a little of everything, and was, besides, the land- 
 lord told me, the leading temperance man of the place. 
 Said I to Mr. Stanley, "You have a very dry town here." 
 "Why ?" said he. "Well, I got to your hotel down the street 
 last night at ten o'clock, nearly frozen, and could not get a 
 drop of anything to warm me up." "Why," he says, "you 
 ought to have come up here; I could have given you some- 
 thing. I have plenty of it on hand." 
 
 After visiting Mr. Stanley's place, where he was hatching 
 and raising some fine Rangeley Lake trout, he directed me 
 to a place about a mile out of town where there was a fine 
 pond of trout that I ought to see. So I had my horse hitched 
 up, and got a fellow about the village to pilot me to the 
 place. As soon as I got there I made my business known, 
 and said that I came at the suggestion of Mr. Stanley. He 
 immediately asked me into his house, and, quicker than I 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 265 
 
 can tell it, had decanters and glasses placed before me, and 
 insisted that 1 should take a drink with him. We saw his 
 fish, and on my return to the hotel I quizzed my companion 
 about the prohibition law, and he told me that every resi- 
 dent in the town, or nearly every one, was provided with 
 some kind of liquor, and that there was twice as much liquor 
 drank as there was before the prohibition law went into 
 force. Prohibition did not seem to prohibit in the State of 
 Maine at that time. 
 
 I left some orders with Mr. Stanley for some Rangeley 
 Lake trout, and then went to Boston, and from thence to 
 Plymouth, Mass., where I made arrangements for some large 
 trout. I then went back to New York, and Paterson, where 
 I got out some specifications for a house, and also made a 
 contract for a hatching house, to be completed within thirty 
 days. I had three firms to figure on the contract for a 
 house, w^hich I intended for a permanent home. I had al- 
 ready drawn a plan for a house before I had left the city of 
 Baltimore, and the architects did not change the plan, except 
 in minor details. One firm figured at ten thousand for the 
 house, another at nine thousand three hundred, and the low- 
 est at eight thousand five hundred. After getting everything 
 under way, I went back to Cortland and Chenango counties 
 for my horse, dog and gun, and wagon, about the middle 
 of May. I found everything all right, and on the 226. of 
 May I loaded my trunk, dog and gun into the wagon and 
 started across the country for Oakland Station, on the Jersey 
 Midland Railroad (now Ontario & Western), Franklin 
 Township, Bergen County, New Jersey, 225 miles from 
 Pharsalia, N. Y. I drove there in five days without acci- 
 dent or mishap. My horse, a fine black Morgan, made the 
 trip easily, I had my fishing tackle with me, and caught a 
 
2(£ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 fine mess of trout from the Beaverkill Creek when I stopped 
 one night at a Httle town on its banks. 
 
 Before I left Oakland I had secured a boarding place 
 with a family by the name of Spear. My hatching house 
 had been completed. While at the little town of Wilton I 
 ran across a boy who found me a fishing tackle and guided 
 me to a creek where, he said, there were plenty of trout; 
 and we started out to enjoy my favorite pastime. I caught 
 only four or five, but took a great fancy to the boy who 
 went with me, a lad of about twelve summers, and, as I 
 thought, very bright. I asked him how he would like to 
 go home with me. He said he would go if his mother was 
 willing. So I went to see his mother, a widow woman. 
 After considerable conversation she said that she would let 
 him go, but could not get him ready to go with me then, 
 but would send him a month or so later. He was to live 
 with me until he was twenty-one, and I was to send him 
 to school for a certain length of time each year, and give 
 him a certain amount of money when he came to be twenty- 
 one years of age, providing that at the end of a year he was 
 satisfied to stay or that I was willing to keep him. His 
 name was Charles L. Waugh. On the eighteenth of June, 
 1873, he reached me at Oakland, and stayed with me for 
 several months. We liked him very much, and he seemed 
 to think a great deal of us, but he got homesick and wanted 
 to go home. I told him I would send him home on a visit 
 the next year, but he got so despondent that I took him to 
 New York and put him on the train, with a ticket for his 
 home, and have never heard from him since, except a note 
 from his mother that he arrived home safely. I went out 
 of the adoption business after that experiment. 
 
 As my hatching house was fitted up for living in, with 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 267 
 
 three rooms, closets, etc., I wrote to one of my old comrades 
 of the war who had worked for me at Baltimore for a couple 
 of years, and who had a wife, but no children, asking him 
 if he and his wife would come and work for me, at a certain 
 figure per month, or so much per year. His answer was 
 that he would accept my offer and come at once if I was 
 ready for them. I wrote him to come. He was an English- 
 man, and his wife an Englishwoman. His name was James 
 Harrison, and he had been a sergeant in the British army. 
 In a few days he was fully established in the hatching house, 
 and I a boarder, with the boy. My house was being 
 rapidly built, and my wife was living at Cortland until it 
 was completed. I had a barn built also, that was finished 
 on the Fourth of July. I had already several ponds made, 
 and a considerable number of trout in them, caught from 
 nearby streams, and they were doing finely. I made a trip 
 to Cortland, N. Y., to see my wife and get the agency for 
 a platform spring wagon that was then being manufactured 
 in Cortland. I secured the agency and made arrangements 
 for my wife to come down as soon as the house was ready. 
 In the meantime my health was pretty good, the outdoor 
 work agreeing with me better than had the indoor work 
 at Baltimore. About the first of October my wife came 
 down, and on her arrival seemed much disappointed with 
 almost everything, but had to make the best of it. We fur- 
 nished the house in good style, and soon got to living all 
 right, and she seemed to be more contented. I sent for her 
 father and mother to come and spend the winter with us, 
 and after that my wife was well contented. We had a fine 
 house, with all modern conveniences, hot and cold water 
 for kitchen and bathroom, and gas. I also had a model barn, 
 though not large, which cost me fifteen hundred dollars, 
 
268 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 The hatchery house cost twelve hundred dollars, and the 
 total amount for the buildings that I had placed on the farm 
 reached twelve thousand dollars. I had 23 acres of land, 
 all free and clear, with money in the bank, several hundred 
 trout in the ponds for breeding purposes, and others being 
 added as fast as possible. I had hatching troughs for over 
 two hundred thousand eggs, and all sorts of tools and uten- 
 sils for farming and fish-raising purposes, a spring of water 
 that flowed thirteen hundred gallons of water per minute, 
 with a temperature of 52 degrees in summer and 53 degrees 
 in winter, just right for trout culture. The situation was 
 such that there was no danger from floods, and the flow 
 never varied during the worst drought or the heaviest rains. 
 I had orders for spawn and small fry greater than I could 
 furnish with my facilities at that time, and everything was 
 running smoothly. 
 
 This was my condition when the panic of 1873 burst upon 
 the country and sounded the death knell of thousands upon 
 thousands of small fortunes as well as large ones. At first, 
 many people thought it would soon blow over and times 
 would improve ; but alas ! the situation became worse and 
 worse; banks tumbled, property went down, and kept on 
 going down. Ruin stared hundreds of thousands in the 
 face, yet many did not seem to realize it. I, for one, felt the 
 weight of depression strike me when I read the list of banks 
 all over the country that had closed their doors. On read- 
 ing the terrible news of the panic, I remarked to my wife 
 that we would see the worst times we ever had seen before 
 it was over. **Why," she said, ''what need we care? We 
 don't owe anything." *'Well," said I, "you'll see;" and we 
 did. 
 
 The bottom seemed to fall out of everything. Van Cleve, 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 269 
 
 with whom I had been more or less interested, and who 
 had something Hke seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars* 
 worth of property in his hands at the time, went down in 
 the crash, and to save myself I had to buy out his interest 
 with money I had in reserve. This crippled me very much, 
 but I was clear of him. Things looked pretty blue, but I 
 did not get despondent. I pushed my business as hard as 
 I could, added more ponds, bought fish, and kept on as 
 though nothing had happened. The sporting clubs of New 
 York, with whom I had contracts to furnish fish for their 
 preserves, nearly all failed, and their places went down. 
 Improvements stopped, and they cancelled their orders, or 
 reduced them. 
 
 I was a good deal discouraged, and finally advertised my 
 place for sale through the columns of Forest and Stream, 
 of which Charley Hallock was then editor. He came over 
 and inspected the place, and told me he would do all he 
 could to help me sell it. But it was no use ; times were get- 
 ting worse. I kept on increasing my stock and disposing of 
 it as fast as I could, but to keep going it was necessary to 
 have money. On March 14th, 1874, I secured a loan of four 
 thousand dollars on my property, and decided to push the 
 business to the utmost. Harrison stayed with me for nine 
 months, when he got a chance to do better in Baltimore, and 
 went back there. In the fall of 1873, when the trout began 
 to run up the various streams in the vicinity of my place, 
 we secured a large number of them, which added to our 
 stock not only the fish, but many thousands of eggs. In 
 the spring of 1874 I put out in the ponds eighteen thousand 
 small fry. I had enough large fish in six or eight ponds 
 to make a fine showing, and as my place had become famous, 
 we had a large number of visitors. These came, not only; 
 
^^0 ONE OF THIS PEOPLE 
 
 from the surrounding country, but from Europe and almost 
 every State in the Union. I sold a limited number of fish 
 from the ponds at a dollar a pound, with the privilege of 
 taking them with hook and line, which was rather tame 
 sport, as they had become domesticated^ and it needed no 
 strategy to coax them to the bait. 
 
 The name I gave my place was "The Crystal Spring Fish 
 Farm," and at that time it had the name of being one of 
 the finest plants for trout raising in the United States. One 
 of the most distinguished visitors that I ever had from 
 Europe was the honorable secretary to the Pope at Rome. 
 He was a cousin of Mrs. Price, the wife of Ex-Governor 
 R. M. Price, of New Jersey. As he was much interested 
 in fish culture, the governor brought him over to see my 
 place. He seemed to be well posted on the subject, and 
 questioned me closely on all points in the process, especially 
 on the taking of spawn. It being the time of year for the 
 operation, I caught some fish and went through the process, 
 in which he was much interested. He and the governor 
 spent several hours with me, and after a glass of wine and 
 other refreshments left, saying it was the most interesting 
 visit he had made since he came to America. He afterward, 
 through the governor, sent me his compliments, and re- 
 gretted that his time was so limited that he could not call 
 again. The old governor said he told him, after he had left 
 my place, that I was the best posted in the business of any 
 man he had ever met. 
 
 During the fall of 1874 I secured a number of fine trout 
 from the streams in that part of the country and saved many 
 thousands of eggs from them during the spawning season. 
 
 In the summer of 1874 I received from Mr. Stanley, of 
 Dixfield, Me., three large Rangeley Lake trout, two males 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 271 
 
 and one female. One of the males weighed a Httle over six 
 pounds when they arrived? The female weighed over three 
 pounds, and I got thirteen hundred eggs from her. I suc- 
 ceeded in hatching about eleven hundred of them and turned 
 out into the pond over eight hundred fry. I kept them 
 separate from the others, and when they were two years 
 old took over sixteen thousand eggs from them ; but they 
 did not hatch as well as the native trout eggs. They were 
 at least from one-third to one-half larger than any other 
 trout I had at the same age. One of the large males got blind, 
 and I fed him from the end of a stick for months. The other 
 male did finely, and was, no doubt, the largest trout in the 
 State ; but in the winter a sneak thief stole him. Then the 
 female became blind and died, and the other male wasted 
 away to a skeleton and died. The raising of fish was the 
 most fascinating business I ever engaged in, and I never 
 tired of caring for them. 
 
 During the winter of 1874 and 1875 ^ sold a good many 
 trout and small fry for stocking purposes, and did fairly 
 well. I also had fifty thousand Rangeley Lake trout spawn 
 to hatch for Geo. S. Page, to stock a stream near his home 
 at Stanley, N. J. I also furnished Joseph Jefferson, the 
 actor, five hundred two-year-olds for his fish ponds at his 
 home, above Hackensack, besides five thousand small fry 
 to put in the same ponds. That year I took two thousand 
 yearlings and two-year-olds and put them in the Beaverkill, 
 up in "New York, for a club of sporting men. I furnished 
 some private ponds with large trout, above Yonkers, east 
 of the Hudson River. I added more ponds to my place and 
 turned out a large number of small fry. In the fall, my 
 cousin, Mrs. J. A. Lum, of New Orleans, came to see me, 
 and was very enthusiastic over my place. She wanted me 
 
2^2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 to sell an interest in the business to her brother, Fred E. 
 Castle, who lived near New Haven, Conn. We finally made 
 a bargain, and she paid me a thousand dollars down, and 
 was to pay me another thousand after Fred had got moved 
 and settled with me. 
 
 He came on with his wife and three children, and for 
 several months seemed satisfied. Then he got tired of the 
 business, and on account of the hard times Mrs. Lum could 
 not, or did not, furnish the balance of the money to carry 
 out the contract. With the money she was to furnish I 
 proposed to make the place a summer resort for picnics, 
 and charge an admission fee. I went to work in good faith, 
 and built a pavilion for dancing purposes, and got the place 
 partially fenced, but the money failed to come, and the 
 scheme fell through. Fred moved away, and the whole 
 thing was a dead loss to us. So I had to fall back on my 
 own resources. Times were hard, and getting worse, but 
 I kept on doing the best I could and increasing my stock. 
 Property was decreasing in value all the while, and money 
 was hard to get. 
 
 Everything looked very blue in the fall of 1875. I was 
 engaged in getting ready to open the grounds in the spring, 
 but when spring came times were worse than ever, and 
 Mrs. Lum did not, or could not, hold to our agreement. 
 Castle had gone, and I was alone. Through my friend, Will- 
 iam Ransley, of Pompton, who kept the hotel at that place, 
 I got a German by the name of Joseph Turner to work 
 for me. He could speak hardly a word of English, but I 
 found him ready and willing to learn, and very industrious. 
 The first month he was with me I got discouraged because 
 I could not make him understand, and would have dis- 
 charged him, but could find no one to fill his place. I had 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 273 
 
 to keep him, tlierefore, but before the end of three months 
 he had improved so much that I should have been sorry 
 to part with him. He continued to work for me as long" 
 as I stayed in New Jersey. 
 
 During the summer of 1875 we secured all the trout pos- 
 sible from the various trout streams of the Ramapo Moun- 
 tains and surrounding country. I had one pond of salmon, 
 which grew rapidly, but it was hard to keep them in the 
 pond, for the reason that they were continually jumping 
 for flies, and would go clear over the banks. I lost a great 
 many in this way. In the fall of 1875 I had several hun- 
 dred thousand eggs in the hatching house but the orders 
 had fallen of¥. Times were getting worse, rather than bet- 
 ter. It was now three years since the hard times began, 
 and no improvement yet, and no signs of any. The year 
 before some parties came over to look at my fish farm, with 
 a view of buying. They seemed to be well satisfied with 
 it and asked my price, which I put at thirty thousand dol- 
 lars. It was a couple of weeks before they returned. In 
 the meantime I learned that they were looking at a place 
 up the Hudson River, above Nyack, which comprised more 
 land than I had but was about the same distance from New 
 York. I learned also there was seventy tons of hay to go 
 with the place up the Hudson, and it seemed that the hay 
 was the difference between the two places. However, when 
 they came back they offered me twenty-four thousand dol- 
 lars, cash down, which I refused, and they bought the place 
 up the river. That was a great mistake, but I thought with 
 everybody else that the panic would not last long, and I 
 could make the place worth fifty thousand dollars. Instead 
 of improving, the times grew worse, and property, espe- 
 cially in that section of the country where I lived, went 
 
274 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 down to almost nothing, ruining many a man as well as 
 myself. Up to that time I had spent twenty-two thousand 
 dollars on the place. 
 
 Nothing of moment occurred during the year of 1876, 
 except that during the summer I was fortunate enough to 
 win considerable money at the races, enough in fact to pay 
 all expenses for living and hired help and laying in ten 
 tons of coal for the winter, with a little money left. The 
 next season I played the races at Jerome Park and Long 
 Branch, but with negative results. That was the extent 
 of my gambling operations since I left California. 
 
 During the summer I thought I would open the grounds 
 for parties, etc., and got out the following circular : 
 
 CRYSTAL SPRLNG FISH FARM, AND PICNIC 
 
 GROUNDS 
 
 Are now Open to Visitors. 
 
 These Grounds have been fitted up for large or small parties, 
 
 with a splendid 
 PAVILION FOR DANCING, 
 
 SABBATH SCHOOL PICNICS OR PRIVATE PARTIES. 
 
 Swings, Croquet Grounds, etc. Lemonade, Ice Cream, and 
 
 other Luxuries, in their season, furnished 
 
 on Reasonable Terms. 
 
 A LIMITED AMOUNT OF TROUT FISHING ALLOWED IN SEASON. 
 
 These grounds will he open for visitors during the year. 
 
 The Crystal Spring Farm is located in the Ramapo Valley, 
 where the scenery, historical reminiscences, and healthful- 
 ness are unsurpassed. 
 
 It is thirty-one miles from New York City, via the N. J. 
 Midland Railroad, to Oakland Station. From Paterson, 
 N. J., by wagon road, eight miles. 
 
UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 275 
 
 The spring is located in a beautiful grove, one mile from 
 Oakland Station, Bergen County, N. J., and is one of the 
 largest and finest springs in the United States. It is, with- 
 out doubt, one of the best known springs for the propaga- 
 tion of fish of the salmon family. 
 
 It has an immense flow of water, from fifteen hundred to 
 two thousand gallons per minute. A severe drouth does 
 not diminish it, or a very wet season increase it. The tem- 
 perature varies but one degree, viz., fifty-three degrees in 
 winter, and fifty-two degrees in summer. All the natural 
 advantages are combined in and about this remarkable spring 
 for the propagation and raising of brook trout : 
 
 1. A large and constant flow of pure water. 
 
 2. Uniformity of temperature throughout the year. 
 
 3. A fall of forty feet in six hundred, of gradual descent. 
 
 4. No liability of being washed out by floods. 
 
 5. By having been a natural stream for trout. 
 
 6. By being located in a fine grove of trees. 
 
 In June, 1873, Mr. B. B. Porter commenced operations at 
 this spring for the purpose of fish culture and making the 
 grove a permanent and attractive place of public resort. 
 
 Since then the place has been visited by thousands of 
 persons from nearly every State in the Union, besides many 
 foreign countries, and so far has been pronounced the most 
 perfect establishment of the kind in the country. 
 
 It is believed that there is no place of its kind now open 
 to the public during the whole year, where can be seen 
 the complete modus operandi of fish culture in all stages 
 of propagation, taking the spawn, the development of the 
 embryo in the egg, hatching of the fish, their appearance 
 after hatching, how and when they begin to feed, etc., etc., 
 
2^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 all of which can be seen, and will be explained to visitors in 
 a few hours, for the nominal sum of twenty-five cents. 
 
 At present there are twenty-five ponds of all sizes, with 
 several more in course of construction, stocked with all 
 sizes of fish, from an inch to eighteen inches in length, com- 
 prising salt w^ater salmon (salino salar), salmon trout 
 (salino confinis), and brook trout (salino fontinalis), native, 
 and species from different parts of the country, to the num- 
 ber of seventy-five thousand, large and small, and in ponds 
 where the fish can be clearly seen. The grove in which the 
 ponds and spring are located comprise between five and 
 six acres of ground. Our buildings are sufficient to shelter 
 one thousand people in case of storm during their visit. Our 
 charges are for admission only. No extra charge during 
 the day for the use of the swings, croquet grounds, pavilion, 
 and other means of amusement. 
 
 For Sabbath school picnics, admission fee w^ill be ten 
 cents only, all others twenty-five cents. No deduction for 
 large parties. We will transfer all baskets of refreshments 
 from the depot to the gate, free of charge, for all large 
 parties, from whom a few days' notice will be required. 
 
 Small parties can come any day v/ithout giving notice. 
 
 Those wishing to amuse themselves by ''tripping the light 
 fantastic toe*' in the afternoon or evening must furnish 
 their own music, unless previously notified in time to be 
 furnished. 
 
 All communications addresed to 
 
 B. B. Porter, Oakland, Bergen Co., N. J., 
 will receive prompt attention. 
 
 N. B. — Eg^s, small fry, yearlings, and large trout for sale. 
 All orders addressed as above. Crystal Spring Fish Farm, 
 Oakland, Bergen County, N. J. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW TO RAISE TROUT. 
 
 After issuing the above we had a good many small par- 
 ties to visit us, but the times were too hard, and the revenue 
 from this source being rather small, I abandoned the scheme 
 and dispensed with the charges. , ^ ,j a 
 
 In the winter of 1876-77 I sold off my stock of old and 
 young fish pretty close, for I had made up my mmd that 
 unless I could sell out I would have to change my busmess, 
 as the times were so hard, and money so tight, that it was 
 pretty hard work to keep up expenses; besides, the price 
 of fry and eggs had got to be so low that it did not pay 
 as well. In the spring of 1877 I sold a good many baskets of 
 water cress, which grew in abundance about the spring and 
 ponds, but the price of that commodity had fallen to a very 
 low figure, and there seemed no end in sight to the hard 
 times. I began to think seriously of going back to Califor- 
 nia, and starting in anew. My wife was also in favor of it, 
 although in a delicate condition. I had considerable trouble 
 with John Post, the man that Van Cleve and I had bought 
 some land of, and had to go through a series of lawsuits to 
 get the matter settled up. Living was rather high, with 
 no prospect of better times ahead, and I began to make 
 strenuous efforts to get rid of my property. 
 
 It was a little discouraging, after working all my life to 
 
 I - '7^ ^ 
 
278 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 get a home, and then at the age of forty-five have to com- 
 mence over again. However, I kept a stiff upper lip, and 
 did the best I could under the circumstances. Misfortunes 
 and difficulties seemed to be multiplying but I was not des- 
 pondent, or despairing. 
 
 As I could see no chance to sell my home, I concluded 
 to try and close out the whole thing at auction, real estate, 
 fish, stock, household goods ; in fact, everything I had, and 
 start for California. I found that I could arrange with 
 the firm of John Mathews & Co., of New York, the Cort- 
 land Wagon Company, and the Hubers Glass Ball Traps, 
 to sell their goods on commission, and as correspondent and 
 solicitor for the Forest and Stream. All the above firms 
 gave me assurance that they would do what they could to 
 help me, and an agency when I reached the Pacific Coast. 
 In October I got out large and small posters and put them 
 up all about the country for miles distant about my place, 
 and advertised the auction in several newspapers. Sale was 
 to take place November 22 and 23, 1877. I employed H. G. 
 Ryerson as auctioneer, who was counted the best in Pater- 
 son, N. J., and when the day of sale came we had a crowd, 
 and the bidding was brisk, but the prices were very low in 
 consequence of the scarcity of money. The sales were for 
 cash only, except the real estate. The fish in the ponds were 
 to go with the real estate. 
 
 I had a fine two-year-old dog, of the mastiff breed, one 
 of the best watch dogs I ever saw, and on the second day 
 I had him put up for sale, and informed the people that a 
 bid of less than five dollars would not be entertained. Al- 
 though I enthusiastically described his merits, no one wanted 
 a dog, and I gave him to the auctioneer. A couple of years 
 after my sale, Mr, Ryerson sold two dairies at auction, and 
 
HOW TO RAISE TROUT 279 
 
 received something over fourteen thousand dollars in cash, 
 which he took home and placed in a large iron safe he had 
 in an old log house adjoining his dwelling, which he used 
 as an office. He lived a mile or two out of the city of Pat- 
 erson, and being called away from home at night, placed 
 the dog in the office and locked him in. During the night 
 some thieves came to rob the safe, and brought some fresh 
 meat with them, broke the glass in the window of the office, 
 and threw the poisoned meat in for the dog, but he did not 
 touch it. He made so much noise that it woke up the neigh- 
 bors up and down the road, and they came to ]\Ir. Ryerson's 
 office to see what the trouble was. Soon after, Mr. Ryerson 
 came home and found that Bob the dog had saved him 
 the fourteen thousand dollars ^11 right. The Paterson papers 
 were full of accounts of the attempted robbery, and Bob 
 became famous in that community. The meat was taken 
 to a chemist, and found to contain enough poison to kill 
 forty dogs. 
 
 In the afternoon of the second day of the sale, the real 
 estate was put up, but not a bid was made, although I offered 
 to accept a bid as low as seven thousand dollars, with all 
 the time for payment they required. The sale showed how 
 bad the times were. The house alone cost me eight thousand 
 five hundred dollars. Then there were the barn, icehouse, 
 hatching house, and an addition I had put up, and the pa- 
 vilion. The household and movable property was all sold, 
 and netted me about half what it cost me. We had about 
 two hundred pots of flowers, some very rare, that sold read- 
 ily. I sent my wife to New York to stay with her sister, 
 while Joe Turner remained to look after the fish left and 
 get things in readiness to leave. I left my goods with my 
 friend Van Houten, a neighbor, to be shipped as directed 
 
28o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 when I called for them. To leave my home was rather 
 hard, but it was the best I could do, as I saw it. I have 
 been rather brief in my account of fish culture, but I will 
 close my short, but thoroughly enjoyed career in the busi- 
 ness by a short account of my experience in trout culture 
 that appeared in the columns of the Forest and Stream some 
 time before I left. It is as follows: 
 
 Oakland, Bergen Co., N. J., Nov. ii, 1876. 
 Friend Hallock: 
 
 Having been much interested in the experiences of sev- 
 eral parties in regard to the culture of trout, as given in 
 the Forest and Stream, I beg leave to offer a few lines on 
 what I know about trout raising. 
 
 I There is a great difference in the growth of trout in dif- 
 ferent streams, owing, no doubt, to the kind and quality 
 of food, as well as quantity. All fish culturists are aware 
 that trout of the same age, bred in the same waters, from 
 the same parents, are not all of the same size, even at six 
 weeks old or one month, after they begin to feed, although 
 their chances were equal in every respect. I begin to sort 
 my trout when they have been feeding for a month, and I 
 always have three sizes. I raise as small fish as anyone, and, 
 I think, as large fish as anyone. Last year I sold a lot of 
 two thousand, at nine months old, that would measure from 
 four to six inches in length. I had another lot of trout that 
 were hatched at the same time, from the same lot of eggs, 
 that were fine, vigorous little fellows, not more than an 
 inch and a half long, fed the same, and had the same chance 
 in every respect. Out of the same lot of eggs I had another 
 pond of fish that were about two and a half to three inches 
 long. My facilities were perhaps better for experimenting 
 
HOW TO RAISE TROUT 281 
 
 than some of your correspondents had, they being all right 
 as far as their experience went. 
 
 Now, I wish to claim your attention a little further and 
 explain another experiment. Two years ago I placed, within 
 a week's time, several pairs of trout in a small spring pond, 
 and let them spawn themselves. As soon as they were done 
 spawning I took them out. I put pairs enough in until I 
 thought there would be fish enough for the pond and two 
 other smaller ponds below, with a fall between them of 
 eighteen inches or more, without screens between them. But 
 at the last pond I placed a screen, as securely as possible, 
 so that the smallest fish could not escape. In due time my 
 fish hatched out splendidly, and I had a fine lot of them. 
 I partially covered the ponds with boards and took the best 
 of care of them. In about a month after they had begun 
 to feed I discovered quite a number in the second pond. 
 In the lower or third pond I saw none for nearly two months 
 and a half. In about three or four months my fish were 
 about equally divided in the three ponds, and sorted better 
 than I could have sorted them by hand. All the little dwarfs 
 were in the upper pond, those larger in size were in the 
 second pond, and in the third pond were the largest and 
 finest of the lot. The ponds were nearly the same size, 
 though the third one was perhaps the smallest. I kept them 
 in these ponds for six months. Those in the third pond 
 measured three inches long; in the second, two and one- 
 half inches ; and in the first there was not a fish above an 
 inch and a half long. The same experiment was tried the 
 past year, with the same result. It is a well-known fact 
 that young trout will get through the smallest possible hole ; 
 therefore, have not some of your correspondents lost their 
 largest trout, and preserved their small ones every year. 
 
2S2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and consequently think that trout won't grow for them 
 only two and one-half inches long to three and one-half 
 inches long? I also claim that trout grow faster for the 
 first year and a half than they ever do afterward. 
 
 If a nondescript one-half inch long becomes a trout of 
 six inches in one year, does he afterward double his size as 
 many times in a year? In the fall of 1873 I had three trout 
 from Rangeley Lake, Maine, placed in my ponds, two males 
 and one female. The males weighed a little over three 
 pounds apiece, and the female somewhat less. The female 
 died in about six or eight months. When she spawned I got 
 thirteen hundred eggs from her. One of the males died 
 in about one year with what Mr. Stone calls black ophthal- 
 mia, and although he was very thin, and all head when he 
 died, he weighed three and a half pounds. The remaining 
 one I kept for two years and a half, and he must have 
 weighed nearly six pounds. He was always in perfect health, 
 and became a great pet, allowing me to rub his belly with 
 my hand with seeming delight. He was stolen from my 
 pond one night by some miserable thief. 
 
 Hoping to hear from some other parties on the growth 
 of trout, through your columns, I will close by saying that 
 almost every year I have raised trout that have measured 
 seven inches and a half in length at one year of age, as well 
 as an inch and a half of the same age. 
 
 B. B. Porter. 
 
 After the above letter appeared in the Forest and Stream 
 I received many letters of inquiry and commendation for the 
 article. To answer the many questions I had received about 
 the above, and other articles sent to the columns of the 
 Forest and Stream^ I sent the following to the same journal : 
 
HOW TO RAISE TROUT 283 
 
 Oakland, N. J., April 21, 1877. 
 Editor Forest and Stream : 
 
 It is thought by many fish culturists that it is a very hard 
 matter to raise trout until they are six months old. We 
 know that they are subject to many diseases ; that they die 
 even with careful treatment, as well as with careless treat- 
 ment; and thus far, no one has given any rules whereby 
 they can be brought to maturity with a small percentage of 
 loss. Livingstone Stone comes the nearest to it of any prac- 
 tical writer on this subject. We believe with him that it 
 can be done, yet few have the requisite facilities to do it. 
 For a few years I have been engaged in the culture of trout, 
 with both good and poor success, but whenever I failed I 
 could always find a good reason for the failure, and tried to 
 avoid it in the next attempt. To start with, one must have 
 the natural facilities, such as a constant flow of pure water 
 of uniform temperature, not liable to be flooded, and a good 
 fall. Great care should be taken that you get your eggs 
 from healthy fish, as many diseases (I think) of the fry are 
 traceable to the parent fish. After you have the eggs placed 
 in the hatching house, exclude the light, and prevent the 
 growth of fungus. After the eggs have been in the hatching 
 troughs twenty days or more, take them out every day and 
 wash them, and clean out the troughs, removing all the 
 dead eggs. If you discover any fungus in your distributing 
 trough, and cannot turn off the water handily, sprinkle in 
 plenty of salt, which will kill the fungus. As soon as the 
 eggs are hatched, remove the fish to another trough, where 
 you have spread half an inch or an inch of good, clean, fresh 
 earth, with a little salt mixed with it. As a general thing, 
 the fish will remain healthy until the sac is nearly absorbed, 
 
284 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 with the exception of a few that are attacked with blue 
 swelHng of the sac. 
 
 Sometimes the fish will all remain healthy until they have 
 been feeding for a week or two ; then, if they have not been 
 promptly and properly attended to, a few will die ; the next 
 day probably fifty or a hundred ; and if no remedy is ap- 
 plied, all will be dead in a week. 
 
 I have never had any disease attack my fish that a salt 
 bath would not cure before they began to feed. To give 
 them the salt bath, shut off the water from the trough or 
 rearing box, and dip the water mostly out; then put in at 
 least half a pint of salt to a gallon of water, and stir gently 
 with a feather until the salt is dissolved. When you see 
 the fish begin to turn on their sides let on the fresh water, 
 and very soon they will be as lively as ever. If you have 
 not given the fish fresh earth every day or two, a little 
 white spot will appear on their heads, which invariably kills 
 the fish. This disease never appears when fresh earth is 
 freely used. Again, while the fish seem well, and eat well, 
 you will notice a few lying on the bottom, or swimming 
 about slowly, dropping down on the bottom, and turning 
 on their sides. The next morning they are dead, with their 
 gills full of fungus, which they have picked up while float- 
 ing about. Salt is a sure remedy for this disease, and does 
 not kill the fish. Stone first recommended it in his **Domes- 
 ticated Trout." A free use of rock salt daily in the distribu- 
 ting trough and aqueducts leading to your rearing box is a 
 preventive. 
 
 When your fish are troubled in this way, take them out in 
 a pan or dish and give them a strong salt bath, and see how 
 soon the top of the water is covered with dead fungus from 
 the fish. The next morning you will find your fish lively, 
 
HOW TO RAISE TROUT 285 
 
 and no dead ones to pick out. I also find that a salt bath 
 kills parasites and saves the fish; and where salt is used 
 freely there are but few of the emaciated or sickly ones, 
 all head, with body growing smaller every day. In some 
 of my rearing boxes, where the fish have been supplied with 
 earth and salt freely, it is a rare thing to find a dead fish, 
 and they are uniform in size, with no emaciated ones against 
 the screens or seeking the still water in the corners, but all 
 vigorously heading upstream. From my experience and 
 experiments I am fully convinced that any man that has a 
 taste for fish culture, and has the requisite natural advan- 
 tages, and will start with good eggs, from healthy fish, and 
 a barrel of salt, backed up with energy and perseverance, 
 and a determination not to neglect any duty, however trifling 
 it may seem, can raise trout until they are six months old 
 with ease. Overcoming previous failures is a sure road to 
 success. B. B. Porter. 
 
 As I left New York for San Francisco before the seventh 
 annual meeting of the American Fish Culturists' Association 
 met, at the request of the secretary of the association, Bar- 
 net Phillips, I prepared a paper to be read before the asso- 
 ciation. Below I will give a copy of the report of m.y article, 
 as I found it in the New York Herald: 
 
 "A dissertation on Trout Culture, by B. B. Porter, set- 
 ting forth the results of experiments made by him at Oak- 
 land, Bergen County, N. J., during the last five years, was 
 read to the meeting by the secretary, Barnet Phillips. In 
 this the author, who is at present residing in California, sets 
 forth, among other matters, that the methods of raising 
 brook trout at the present day only vary in appliances, from 
 the date of its commencement in this country. 
 
2^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 "Brook trout culture is really the mother of fish culture, 
 whereb}^ our rivers, lakes, ponds, and creeks, are already 
 teeming with countless thousands of fish in many localities, 
 from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 
 
 ''The salmon family of our country are now being sent to 
 all parts of the world, and yet fish culture is only in its 
 infancy. At the first regular meeting of the association, at 
 Albany, N. Y., almost every member was interested in the 
 culture of trout or salmon ; but now the 'angler's pride' is 
 hardly thought of, though it is the most difficult fish to rear 
 to maturity of all our food fishes ; consequently, it is likely, 
 I think, to remain a luxury, and will always command a 
 good price in the market. 
 
 In raising trout, one must have the natural facilities. 
 First, a never-failing spring, with a good flow of water; 
 second, the water must be of uniform temperature during 
 the whole year ; third, a good fall ; fourth, not liable to be 
 washed out by floods during the severest storms. The old 
 method of hatching the spawn on gravel is nearly obsolete. 
 Wire traps, with wires crossing each other at right angles, 
 one-tenth of an inch apart one way, and half an inch apart 
 the other way, are probably the best for hatching trout or 
 salmon spawn, allowing the fish to fall through as soon as 
 hatched. 
 
 There are many ingenious devices for hatching, but if you 
 have your eggs so that you can pick them over readily, and 
 keep them clean, and exclude the light, it is the easiest 
 part of fish culture, providing your eggs are well impreg- 
 nated. The watering-pot will keep the sediment off, and a 
 liberal use of salt will keep the fungus from generating. 
 After the eggs are hatched it is best to remove them to 
 another trough, or rearing box, where you have spread an 
 
HOW TO RAISE TROUT 287 
 
 inch or more of fresh earth, and they will generally remain 
 healthy until the sac is absorbed. 
 
 *Tn his experience with one hundred thousand eggs, from 
 eighty to eighty-five per cent, are impregnated ; but of these, 
 about five per cent, will not have enough strength to break 
 the shell. Before the sac is absorbed, five per cent more 
 will die with the swelling of the sac. By the time the fish 
 begin feeding, twenty per cent, more will die from disease, 
 or be eaten by their companions. From these and other 
 causes about twenty per cent, of the original one hundred 
 thousand will be left at the end of the first year. 
 
 "At the end of the second year a further decrease will 
 leave only from five to ten thousand. No one, to his knowl- 
 edge, had yet raised trout exclusively for table use, but 
 that it would be done was simply a question of time. 
 
 "The above paper called forth a lively discussion, in which 
 several of the members participated. Mr. Seth Green was 
 asked by R. B. Roosevelt, president of the association, his 
 experiences, and he said that he raised eighty-five per cent." 
 
 After putting our house in order and storing our goods, 
 Turner and I bade the old place a kind adieu and went 
 over to New York. As Turner was determined to go to 
 California, too, I sent him by steamer, via Panama, as I 
 expected to be at least a month on the way overland. After 
 making careful arrangements with the different parties 
 whom I was to represent on my way to San Francisco, and 
 leaving my wife with her sister, Mrs. Sage, until I sent for 
 her, I took my departure for the Pacific Coast on the six- 
 teenth day of December, 1877, to seek a home and recoup 
 my lost fortunes. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN. 
 
 I WAS now forty-five years of age, but I felt young, and 
 took my losses philosophically; and not being of the kind 
 to worrv over spilled milk, went on my way rejoicmg, de- 
 termined to do my best, and that was as good as any man 
 could do. My health was fair, and I thought I was able 
 to stand a great deal of hardship yet. In due time I reached 
 Chicago, and looked up my old friend James Langfort, who 
 was then a floor walker in the dry goods house of Field, 
 Leitcr & Co., and had a good visit with him. From Chicago 
 I went direct to Omaha, Neb., where I was to commence 
 work for the different firms for whom I was acting as agent. 
 After making a few sales I went on to the town of Fremont, 
 Neb., where I stayed for two or three days, and formed 
 some very desirable acquaintances. I also met an old friend 
 there, as I had arranged by letter, and he went with me 
 as far as Grand Island, Neb. Here I made some sales. 
 
 I reached Cheyenne, Wyo., on the day before Christmas, 
 and found W. H. Taylor, to whom I had a letter of intro- 
 duction. I found him a very congenial companion, and he 
 gave me much information regarding Denver City, where I 
 was to go. I did considerable business in Cheyenne for a 
 week, then went to Denver, where I stayed for five or six 
 
 days. 
 
 288 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 289 
 
 Denver, at that time, was quite a thriving city, and there 
 was a good deal of business done there. I did very well 
 while there, although the cold was intense, the temperature 
 being below zero most of the time. The atmosphere was 
 clearer than any I had seen since I left California, over 
 twenty years before. The scenery was superb on clear, 
 frosty mornings, when you could see Long's Peak, Pike's 
 Peak, and many of lesser size that loomed up in the distance.^ 
 I had my face shaved clean on New Year's morning, 1878, 
 at the Grand Hotel, Denver, and have never shaved since 
 (this is November, 1902). 
 
 I went back to Cheyenne and stayed a day or two, then 
 resumed my journey westward. I made my next stop at 
 Laramie. Between Cheyenne and Laramie we passed the 
 highest point of the Rocky Mountains, where the train 
 stopped for fifteen minutes to allow the passengers to view 
 the magnificent scenery, which was indeed grand. Stand- 
 ing on the backbone of the continent, at an elevation of 
 8,242 feet above the level of the sea, gazing on one of the 
 most beautiful sights in the way of mountains and lofty 
 peaks, vales and valleys, and breathing the pure air, one is 
 entranced with the handiwork of God, and you long to linger 
 and enjoy, but are suddenly startled by the cry of "All 
 aboard!" and you drop back to the common, humdrum 
 thoughts of the day and pass on to the city of Laramie. 
 
 After a short stay at Laramie I again boarded the train 
 for Ogden, Utah, and on the first night out nearly froze 
 to death in the cars. It was a bitter cold night, but the 
 next day the weather moderated and it became quite com- 
 fortable, and I enjoyed the scenery along the road very 
 much. In the afternoon we came to the thousand-mile tree 
 
290 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 and the Devil's Slide in Weber Canon, and passing the many 
 unique rocks and cliffs, as we wound along the little creek, 
 through the Wasach Mountains, and all at once rushed out 
 into the Salt Lake Valley, with the Great Salt Lake in full 
 view. To me it was a remarkable ride, and I enjoyed it 
 to the fullest extent. We reached Ogden just at dark, and 
 I went to the first hotel I came to, pretty well played out, 
 and retired early. 
 
 After a day or two I went down to Salt Lake City and 
 stayed there about a week. Besides doing a good deal of 
 business I took in all the sights possible, and attended church 
 at the Mormon Synagogue. I did some business with the 
 Z. C. M. L, and found them very fair to deal with, and 
 good business men. The city seemed to be very prosperous 
 at that time and trade good. I enjoyed my visit very much, 
 it being to me the most interesting place T had seen since 
 I left New York. I saw Mormonism in all its phases. Brig- 
 ham Young's famous mansion, where his favorite wife lived, 
 and many cottages where his secondary wives lived sep- 
 arately. 
 
 In leaving the city I reached the depot half an hour too 
 early. Soon after, a man drove up in a two-horse wagon, 
 with one woman sitting on the seat beside him, and four oth- 
 ers sitting on the bottom of the wagon. The man got down, 
 and left the women to get down as best they could without 
 his assistance. They meekly followed him into the depot, 
 and sat down while their lord and master called for five 
 tickets for Ogden. The women were well clad but were 
 ordinary looking, ranging from thirty to forty years of age. 
 When the train pulled up to the depot, Mr. Mormon beck- 
 oned to his flock with his finger to follow him, without a 
 word being said. He clambered into the train, and the 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN ^91 
 
 women got in the best way they could. Mr. Mormon took 
 a seat alone on one side of the car and pointed to two seats 
 on the opposite side for his wives to be seated. Not a word 
 was said by any of them to one another during the whole 
 trip, and they left the train at Ogden without a smile or a 
 word. It looked to me more like a man with a pack of 
 hounds at his heels. There was not the least sign of affec- 
 tion or respect on either side. And this was polygamy as I 
 saw it, in private as well as in public, 
 
 I took the train next for Elko, Nev., and stayed there 
 for twenty-four hours. While there I formed the acquain- 
 tance of Judge F. K. Bechtel, formerly of Pennsylvania, but 
 at that time a resident of Bodie, California. He was on his 
 return from a visit to the East, and had with him a little 
 girl of eleven years of age, whose parents lived in Bodie, and 
 he was bringing her out to them. She was a lovely little 
 girl, and afforded us considerable amusement with her bright 
 sayings and sprightly pranks, and withal perfectly ladylike 
 in demeanor. The judge told her that at the next place 
 we stopped we would have some mountain strawberries, and 
 she was highly delighted ; but when she found that the 
 judge's strawberries were beans, she was very much put 
 out. When we arrived at Reno, my next stopping place, 
 we stayed at the same hotel, and the next morning all three 
 of us took the train for Carson City, Nev., where we again 
 stayed for the night and all the next day. I bid the judge 
 good-bye until we should meet in San Francisco at some 
 future time, as per agreement. 
 
 While in Carson City I formed the acquaintance of H. G. 
 Parker, fish commissioner of the State of Nevada, a first- 
 class man and sportsman, who made me promise to come 
 and stop with him over Sunday after my visit to Virginia 
 
^92 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 City, where I expected to stay two or three days. I made 
 my visit to Virginia City, and did some business, making 
 the acquaintance of several of the leading men, among them 
 the superintendent of the water-works of Virginia City, and 
 of the Bonanza Mines in particular, who gave me an invi- 
 tation to visit the Virginia City Club. I accepted the invi- 
 tation, and had a most enjoyable time. He took me through 
 the Bonanza Mines and the weighing and assay offices ; in 
 fact, treated me with great consideration, simply for giving 
 him some desired information about raising trout and keep- 
 ing them in his reservoir for fishing purposes. 
 
 I got back to Carson City on Saturday night to fulfil 
 my engagement with Mr. Parker. We had a pleasant even- 
 ing at his home, with his wife, daughter, and son, and early 
 the next morning, with a fine team and light wagon, started 
 for Lake Tahoe, some ten or fifteen miles away. It would 
 astonish most Eastern people to see how easily a pair of 
 horses can draw a heavy buggy, with two or three people 
 in it, over hills and steep grades with hardly a break in a 
 brisk trot. The horses seem to have great endurance in this 
 clear mountain air of the Sierras. Eighty miles a day is 
 done here with an ordinary team, while half that distance 
 east of the Mississippi would be a good day's travel. On 
 our way to Lake Tahoe we crossed and passed under the 
 celebrated V-shaped flume, owned by the Bonanza firm of 
 Virginia City. The flume is fifteen miles long, and has a 
 fall of sixteen hundred to two thousand feet. Millions upon 
 millions of feet of the best pine timber had been floated 
 down this flume, and something like twelve thousand acres 
 of mountain land had been denuded of its forest, and nearly- 
 all of it went into the mines at Virginia City. 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 293 
 
 We passed some most wonderful scenery that is simply 
 indescribable. Mr. Parker told me it was twenty-one miles 
 from Carson City to Lake Tahoe, and also that they had 
 run down the flume seven hundred cords of wood daily 
 or half a million feet of mining timber. On our way over,- 
 we met the world-renowned stage driver, Hank Monk, who 
 carried Horace Greeley one hundred and nine miles in ten 
 hours over his route. He had driven over the route from 
 Carson City to Lake Tahoe for many years, and once made 
 the trip from Carson City to Virginia, twenty-one miles, 
 in an hour and eight minutes. Monk was not a tall man, 
 but of stout build, and looked to me like a man who used 
 a great deal of whiskey ; but he was never drunk. We made 
 the trip in a little over two hours, and reached Glenbrook, 
 where we had dinner, then went for a sail in a rowboat to 
 see the wonderful beauties of Lake Tahoe. 
 
 This body of fresh water is twenty-two miles long, and, 
 on an average, ten miles wide. It has an elevation of one 
 mile and a quarter, and has been sounded to a depth of 
 sixteen hundred and forty-five feet. It is as clear as crys- 
 tal, and you can see fish and pebbles on the bottom at a 
 depth of sixty to seventy-five feet. Our boat seemed to 
 be sailing in mid-air, as it glided over the smooth water. 
 The lake never freezes, and the trout it contains are unsur- 
 passed for flavor. We tried to catch some, but failed, but 
 found a fisherman out on the lake who had one that weighed 
 six pounds, which we caught with some silver, and had it- 
 for breakfast the next morning. You cannot see the whole 
 lake till you get out some distance from Glenbrook. There 
 were two steamboats at Glenbrook., laid up for the winter. 
 A trip around the lake in summer costs five dollars. Shake- 
 speare Rock stands out in bold relief, a short distance frorn 
 
294 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Glenbrook. It is almost perpendicular on the side toward 
 the lake, on which the profile of the great poet's face is 
 accurately lined ; that is, I was so informed. The scenery 
 about the lake is charming, and, take it all in all, it is the most 
 wonderful lake I ever saw. 
 
 Our ride back to Carson City was made in quick time, 
 and we reached there before night. The next morning I 
 took the train for Reno, and waited for the westbound over- 
 land. I am sorry that I did not have time to visit Tahoe 
 City, on the west side of the lake, where they had started a 
 trout-breeding establishment. The trout here spawn in April, 
 May, and June, and to show how prolific the trout are in 
 the outlet to Lake Tahoe, called Truckee River, there were 
 taken one hundred and seventy thousand pounds of trout, 
 saying nothing of the fish taken from the lake, the year 
 before. 
 
 I had intended to stop at Truckee and visit Donner Lake, 
 as well as Lake Tahoe, but I had been so long on the way 
 from Omaha that I concluded not to stop again until I 
 reached San Francisco. From Reno, west, we followed up 
 the Truckee River, which reminded me of my former expe- 
 rience in California, more than twenty years before. It is 
 two hundred and fifty miles from Truckee to San Francisco, 
 and at that time it took about twenty hours to make the 
 trip. I lost the sight of Donner Lake, and most of the snow- 
 sheds, but have passed over the same route by daylight since, 
 which I will speak of farther on. 
 
 We reached Dutch Flat the next morning at daylight, and 
 in a short time we arrived at Cape Horn, where the train 
 stopped for the passengers to view the magnificent scenery 
 and look down two thousand feet to the American River, 
 ^vhich, like a silver thread, courses its way between the 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 295 
 
 lofty mountains. It Is an awe-inspiring sight, when seen 
 for the first time. After a short stop, "All aboard!" was 
 sung out, and on we went across a trestle bridge one hun- 
 dred and thirteen feet high, over a ravine, to a low divide, 
 to Colfax, where a narrow-gauge road starts. This road 
 is built to Grass Valley and Nevada City. At Colfax we 
 stopped twenty-five minutes for breakfast. 
 
 Colfax is one hundred and ninety-three miles from San 
 Francisco, and has an altitude of 2,422 feet. Soon after, 
 we were on our way to the Sacramento Valley. The glimpses 
 \ve got of the valley, going down the Sierras, along the 
 American River, were grand, and in the hazy distance we 
 could see the Coast Range of mountains, one hundred miles 
 away. At one point of view we could see Mount Diablo, 
 at another the Marysville Buttes, twelve miles from Marys- 
 ville. At Roseville Junction we were in the valley, and clear 
 of the mountains and foothills, and after crossing a long 
 trestle over the American River, rolled into Sacramento City. 
 Before we reached the city we had a good view of the State 
 Capitol and Agricultural Park and pavilion. 
 
 When I first saw Sacramento, in the spring of 1853, people 
 were sailing about the city in boats, and the whole valley 
 was under water, looking like a vast lake, with here and 
 there a mound above water covered with cattle, horses, 
 sheep, etc. Once more I had reached the glorious State of 
 California, to which I had longed to get back for over tw^enty 
 years. Once I got as far as New York on my way, but 
 circumstances over which I had no control defeated my 
 plans ; but now I am here again, and intend to stay. 
 
 This puts me in mind of a ditty I found in a newspaper 
 of recent date, which is as follows ; 
 
296 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 GIVE ME CALIFORNY. 
 
 "Blizzard back in New York State 
 Sings its frosty tune. 
 Here the sun a-shinin', 
 Air as warm as June. 
 
 "Snow in Pennsylvany, 
 Zero times down East ; 
 Here the flowers bloomin*, 
 A feller's eyes to feast. 
 
 "Shiverin' in Kansas, 
 
 The hull blame country froze ; 
 Here the birds a-singin', 
 Girls in summer clothes. 
 
 "It's every one his own way. 
 The place he'd like to be, 
 But give me Californy, 
 It's good enough for me." 
 
 After a short stop in Sacramento our train moved out for 
 San Francisco, passing Stockton on the way. We then went 
 through the Livermore Valley to Niles, near the head of 
 the bay, and down to Oakland, then over the bay to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Here I felt once more like being at home. This was the 
 twenty-first day of January, 1878. I had been on the way 
 from New York just thirty-six days, made many pleasant 
 acquaintances, enthusiastically enjoyed the scenery, visited 
 all the important cities and towns on the way, and besides 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 297 
 
 made money on the way over as agent for the different 
 firms I represented; and best of all, had enjoyed the best 
 of health all the while on the trip. 
 
 On my arrival at San Francisco I found my friend Joe 
 Turner waiting for me, dead broke, and in debt for a week's 
 board at a cheap boarding house. The first thing I looked 
 for was a room for us both, which I found on Sixth Street, 
 and then securing my mail, which had accumulated to large 
 proportions, set to work answering my letters and getting 
 ready to look about to see what to do next. I had several 
 letters of introduction that helped to give me a start in the 
 direction of business. Among all my new acquaintances in 
 San Francisco, none impressed me so favorably as Mr. M. 
 V. B. Watson, who was doing business at 319 Battery Street, 
 and our mutual regard for each other soon ripened into a 
 very warm friendship, and remained so until his death in 
 1894. He was the best man and friend I ever knew. 
 
 After canvassing the town for the Forest and Stream and 
 Charley Hallock's books, I looked into the wagon and soda 
 stock business, as well as the trap-shooting affairs, and 
 formed the acquaintance of Dr. Carver, the best shot at 
 that time on the Pacific Coast. I did fairly well, but pros- 
 pects for a paying business were rather poor. Mathews 
 had an agent there already, also the Cortland Wagon Com- 
 pany, but the wagon company's agent was in Los Angeles. 
 I was treated very shabbily by both firms, and after sev- 
 eral weeks concluded to drop the Mathews agency and look 
 after the wagon company's affairs by going to Los Angeles 
 to see what could be done. I got Turner a place to work 
 in Alameda, and I took the steamer for Los Angeles on 
 the 20th of February, 1878. I was to act as Mr. Watson's 
 agent for his goods, 
 
298 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 The day before I sailed I was over to Alameda, and found 
 James M. Reynolds staying with his brother, who was a 
 practicing physician in that town. '7^"^" was my orderly 
 sergeant when I was taken prisoner at the battle of St. 
 Mary's Church in 1864, and he afterward became a major of 
 the regiment. Of course we had a happy reunion, for I 
 had not seen or heard of him since the war. He came from 
 the East about the same time I did, and intended to make 
 his home in Alameda. His wife and little daughter were 
 with him. We sailed, as above stated, on the old steamer 
 Orizaba for way ports and Los Angeles. 
 
 My mind carried me back twenty years and more, and 
 I sat down upon the hurricane deck to meditate alone and 
 live the past over again. Strange seemed the vicissitudes 
 of my life! From school to Kansas, thence back to York 
 State ; then to war, a prisoner of war ; thence to the verge 
 of death ; then to Baltimore and business ; thence to farming 
 and fish culture; then a traveling agent, and here I am, 
 rocking on the broad bosom of the Pacific, a poor but not 
 discouraged man, though far away from wife, home, and 
 friends. I had enjoyed life in all its phases, at times strug- 
 gling for existence, again with plenty of money that brought 
 me luxuries and pleasures. I had travelled extensively, 
 worked hard, sufifered many a disappointment, at other times 
 elated with success; in fact, there seemed no phase of life 
 experience that I had not passed through, except that in 
 the career of a dishonest rogue. My efforts to gain an hon- 
 est living have always been honorable. I have made mis- 
 takes (who has not?), had been fortunate and unfortunate. 
 Perhaps I had been too independent, but that was my nature, 
 and I could not help it. I was tinctured enough with ego- 
 tism to believe in myself, and never relaxed my efforts to 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 299 
 
 take care of myself, though perhaps if I had allowed others 
 to lead me I would have been better off — perhaps not. Who 
 can say? 
 
 The gong for supper broke my reverie, and I went below 
 to recuperate the inner man. 
 
 We stopped at several landings, and finally reached Santa 
 Monica, where we took the cars for Los Angeles, where I 
 put up at the White House, at the corner of Los Angeles 
 and Commercial streets. Before reaching the city we passed 
 through an orange orchard loaded with the golden fruit. 
 Everybody is enthusiastic over their first sight of an orange 
 orchard, with the trees of a deep green foliage, loaded down 
 with the golden fruit, making a very pleasing contrast in 
 color ; and I was no exception to the rule. I wanted to go 
 at once and pick some, and eat from the tree. Reader, you 
 know how it is yourself. Oh, no, you would not steal, but 
 the temptation is too great, and the first thing you know, 
 you have gone and done it with no one's consent, and your 
 conscience does not bother you much, either. After a while 
 you become more careful. 
 
 Los Angeles, at that time, had ten or twelve thousand 
 inhabitants, and seemed rather a dull town. After hunting 
 up the parties for whom I had letters of introduction, and 
 inquiring into business matters, more especially the Cort- 
 land Wagon Company's agent, Mr. Lieutwiler, I must say 
 I was not favorably impressed with the chances for a man 
 without money to invest. Everybody seemed anxious to 
 get away, and many a young orange orchard could have been 
 bought by paying or assuming the mortgage on it and giving 
 the owner enough money to get to some other part of the 
 country. One of my new-found acquaintances introduced 
 me to Deputy L^nited States Marshal Dunlap, who was about 
 
300 ONE OF THE PEOPLE > 
 
 to make a trip over a good part of the country to serve 
 some papers, and he invited me to make the trip with him, 
 he to furnish transportation and I to pay my own expenses. 
 I was very glad to accept the offer, and the next day we 
 started out on a buckboard behind a splendid pair of bay 
 horses. It was in the month of March, and I saw farmers 
 cutting hay. The whole face of the country was covered 
 with wild flowers, and I thought I had never seen so beau- 
 tiful a country: in fact, I never had at that time of year. 
 We visited Anheim, Downey, Gospel Swamp, Santa Ana, 
 Orange, and then across the hills to Spadra, and back to 
 Los Angeles via San Gabriel. It was a delightful trip and 
 the weather was fine. We were gone three nights and four 
 days. 
 
 I saw small houses completely covered with climbing roses 
 all in full bloom, which was a sight that I had never dreamed 
 of before. Santa Ana had a small hotel, one large store in 
 a building that looked, outside, more like a barn than a 
 store ; also a tin shop and a blacksmith shop ; and they had 
 laid a foundation for a small brick building which was said 
 to be for a bank. You could throw a stone from one end 
 of the main street to the other at one throw — and that was 
 the Santa Ana of the spring of 1878. Downey was little 
 larger. Orange about the same, and Spadra consisted of 
 one hotel, a house or two, and the railroad depot. 
 
 Old Mr. Rubottom was mine host at Spadra, and we 
 stayed there about twenty-four hours. He had some large 
 orange and lemon trees full of fruit, and told me to help 
 myself, and I filled up with fruit to my heart's content. 
 When we got back to Los Angeles I canvassed the town 
 for business, but did not have much success, 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 301 
 
 Mr. Watson had sent me to Mr. H. W. Stoll, who was 
 engaged in the soda water business, and finding that he was 
 making a very poor article of ginger ale, I engaged to teach 
 him how to make it so that it would be equal to the imported 
 Belfast ginger ale. It took me several days, but I made a 
 sample that his customers pronounced as good as the for- 
 eign article, and he paid me a good price for teaching him. 
 Not finding anything to engage in that would pay me, I 
 concluded to return to San Francisco and see what I could 
 do there. I was a little blue over my disappointment in 
 not finding something that I could profitably engage in, as 
 I liked the country very much. So I bought a ticket to 
 San Francisco by rail, and started back. We passed through 
 Bakersfield, Tulare, and Fresno, where we stopped for 
 breakfast, and lay there for an hour or more. While stand- 
 ing on the corner of the street, with other passengers, a man 
 who said that he lived in the Washington Colony, a few 
 miles southwest of Fresno, cried out as follows : "Listen ! If 
 there is any man here that wants to invest in a fruit ranch 
 of twenty acres, I will sell it to him for the price of the 
 mortgage on it. I paid half the purchase money down, and 
 have set the whole twenty acres out to vines and fruit, and 
 you can have the whole shooting match for one hundred 
 dollars in cash, and take up the mortgage. Now's your 
 chance ! Show me the man that wants a bargain !'* No one 
 seemed inclined to accept the offer. This seemed to me 
 to be a pretty poor prospect for Fresno and its surround- 
 ings. 
 
 This was just at the beginning of the raisin industry at 
 Fresno, and to-day Fresno leads the world in this industry. 
 A man with a little money invested, and enough to carry 
 him through for a while, could have reaped a rich reward 
 
302 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 for his investment; but just then it looked like folly to bite 
 at such a bait. 
 
 After leaving Fresno we passed hundreds of miles of 
 wheat fields, the towns of Modesto, Merced, and many other 
 smaller towns, to San Francisco, which seemed more like 
 home to me than any other place I had found since my 
 return to California. For some time I looked for something 
 to engage in that would pay me, but did not succeed, and 
 having received most of the money I had earned on my 
 way out, I had no further income, and things began to 
 look very blue. About this time I got a letter from my 
 wife, saying that she had not much money left, and would 
 like some as soon as I could spare it. When I got the letter 
 I had just paid a week's board in advance, and had a little 
 over twelve dollars left. I went to the post office and sent 
 my wife the twelve dollars, and when I left the post office 
 I had ten cents in my pocket, all of my worldly possessions 
 left in the way of cash. Slowly I walked down the street to 
 my friend Watson, not knowing what else to do, and feeling 
 rather downhearted. When I went into his office he said: 
 **Oh, Mr. Porter, I'm glad you came in. I have just got 
 an order to make a lot of new life-preservers for the two 
 large ferryboats, and would like to have you help us out. 
 Can you do it?" ''Only too happy," said I, and in an hour 
 I was at work. After we got the life-preservers made, and 
 delivered, Mr. Watson gave me steady employment, and I 
 was soon on my feet again. 
 
 One day, while working on the life-preservers, who should 
 walk in but my old friend, John S. Peck, who in 1857 was 
 the last man I saw when starting for home from Yreka, 
 Siskiyou County, Cal. He accompanied me a mfle out of 
 town, and we bade each other good-bye, just about twenty- 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 303 
 
 one years before. He was then living in Virginia City, Nev. 
 and had been prosperous, and was pretty well fixed. He 
 thought of moving down to the bay to live, and intended 
 to engage in some kind of business, and asked me to go in 
 with him ; but I told him that I had no capital, and he said 
 that made no difference — he wanted me, not any capital. 
 We had always been good friends, but I had no idea that he 
 was so much of a friend. He had two or three schemes 
 on hand, but somehow they did not work. 
 
 After I had worked a few months for Mr. Watson, and 
 saved up a hundred dollars, I saw a chance to open a busi- 
 ness in Alameda. I wrote to Peck about it, and he replied 
 that he would send me five hundred dollars, and I could go 
 ahead, and he would go in as a partner, or loan me the 
 money. So I wrote him to send me the money, and I took 
 my hundred dollars and rented a store and fitted it up for a 
 stationery and hat business, as well as a news depot, and 
 anything else I thought would pay. Peck sent me three 
 hundred dollars, and I bought seven hundred dollars' worth 
 of goods and started business the latter part of October, 
 1878. Being a stranger, and having some opposition, busi- 
 ness went a little slow, but I made more than expenses from 
 the start. I was anxious to get my wife out here to help 
 me, and did everything I could to push the business along 
 and keep my debts paid. During the winter my wife ex- 
 changed our New Jersey property for oil property in Penn- 
 sylvania and one hundred and sixty acres of land in San 
 Bernardino County, Southern California, but did not get 
 any cash in the transaction. In the spring of 1879 my busi- 
 ness improved some, and continued to do so all summer, but 
 as it was not large enough for two I wrote to Peck to 
 come down and see me. He came, and we went over the 
 
304 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 books, and I agreed to pay him back the money he had 
 put in as soon as I could, and I would go it alone. 
 
 By fall I had saved enough money to send for my wife, 
 and on December 28th she arrived by steamer, via the Isth- 
 mus. She brought our little dog Zoe with her, and the lit- 
 tle thing knew me at once. This little dog was a terrier 
 by breed, and weighed only three and a half pounds until 
 after she was five years old, and was by far the best ratter 
 I ever saw. One snap at a rat was all she wanted. She 
 lived to be eight years old, when she was run over by a 
 buggy, and lived but an hour or two after the accident. 
 
 January i, 1880. For the first year my business had pros- 
 pered, and the outlook for the future was good. I had 
 moved into larger quarters and increased my stock, and dur- 
 ing the year 1880 I found that I must still enlarge. So in 
 the fall of the year I rented a larger place and moved into 
 it in the early part of 1881. Business still increased, and I 
 advertised liberally, which brought good returns ; but my 
 wife and I worked hard, with but little recreation. We had 
 been in good health most of the time, but the neuralgia 
 bothered me very much, especially in my eyes. In 1882 I 
 concluded to sell out my business and go into something 
 easier. The continual overwork began to tell upon me, and 
 I knew I could not hold out at the pace I was going. I ad- 
 vertised all the year of 1882 without finding a buyer. I had 
 made arrangements to go .iinto a wholesale notion business 
 in San Francisco, where I could have a little more time 
 to myself and not have to work as hard as I had been doing 
 in the retail business. During the year 1882 we had been 
 visited by Ex-Governor Price, of New Jersey, who had lived 
 near our old home, the Crystal Spring Fish Farm, of New 
 Jersey, and two of the governor's sons, Trench Price and 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 305 
 
 Rodman Price, Jr. ; also W. H. Taylor, whom I have before 
 mentioned. During Christmas week of 1882 we did a very- 
 large business, and my health broke down. At last I found 
 a buyer. 
 
 In April, 1882, two young men from Los Angeles came 
 up and investigated my business, and I finally sold out to 
 them on April 24th for three thousand five hundred dollars, 
 which I had clear for four years and a half of v^ork, which 
 was very good, considering that I had not a cent of capital 
 to start with. 
 
 About this time I invested in a mine near Jackson, Ama- 
 dor County, Cal., also in the fur business with my friend 
 Taylor and an old Germ.an who had the secret of dressing 
 seal skins without sending them to London. This was a 
 good thing, and a paying business, but we lacked capital 
 to carry it on successfully, therefore, after a struggle of a 
 year and a half, we had to close up, but I got the most of 
 my money back that I had invested in the venture. The 
 wholesale firm in the notion business was badly conducted, 
 and my thousand dollars that I had put into it came to 
 grief when the business broke up, and I got only sixty per 
 cent back again. Through a rascally superintendent who 
 nearly ruined our Jackson mine, I had to go and take charge 
 of the mine myself, though my health was so poor that I 
 was hardly able to sit up. I stopped at Jackson for several 
 weeks, when we got John S. Peck to go up and take charge 
 of it. We could trust Peck, and he demonstrated all there 
 was in it, but we lacked capital to run it. I went to Hobart 
 & Hayward, the best mining men in San Francisco, and 
 got them to go and see the mine and make us an offer for 
 it. We were incorporated, and I was president of the com- 
 pany. They visited the mine, and offered to take eighty 
 
3o6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 thousand of the hundred thousand shares and expend fifty 
 thousand dollars to develop the mine, pay all expenses and 
 debts already contracted, and the twenty thousand shares 
 to be divided up between the other five stockholders. I and 
 one other stockholder were very much in favor of letting 
 Hobart &: Hayward have it, but the other three seemed to 
 think that if Hobart & Hayward could do so much, it was 
 a good thing to hold, notwithstanding we could not meet 
 the obligations of the mine without disposing of it. Hence 
 we lost the mine, and I lost fifteen hundred dollars. That 
 ended my mining ventures. 
 
 Soon after coming from Jackson I was awakened at two 
 o'clock A.M. one morning with neuralgia in both eyes. The 
 pain was most excruciating, and I simply had to yell out 
 with pain. My wife got some hot cloths over them as soon 
 as she could, but it did not relieve me. She tried everything 
 she could, but I suffered intolerably. When daylight came 
 1 could not bear the light in the least. The pain continued 
 until two o'clock p.m._, when it ceased entirely, but I could 
 see only very dimly. We called the doctor, and he said that 
 he could do nothing for me, but advised me to go to Dr. 
 Barkan, one of the best oculists in San Francisco. He 
 treated me daily for sixty days. 
 
 On leaving his office one very hot day, with the ther- 
 mometer about one hundred degrees in the shade, I started 
 across the street, when I was taken dizzy. Everything turned 
 black, and I pitched forward to the sidewalk in an uncon- 
 scious condition. Although I remembered nothing, I must 
 have been able to direct someone to take me where Taylor, 
 my friend, was at work, for when I came to my senses 
 for a moment I was sitting in a chair on the sidewalk in 
 front of Taylor's place, with a bag of ice upon my head. 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 307 
 
 and Dr. Barkan and another doctor with him giving direc- 
 tions what to do for me. I was conscious but for a moment 
 or two, then knew nothing more till near daylight the next 
 morning, when I found myself in bed, opposite the Baldwin 
 Hotel, and my wife with me. On regaining consciousness 
 I recognized my wife's voice and spoke to her. After eating 
 a light breakfast I accompanied her home to Alameda. I 
 think this was about the twentieth of June, 1883. I contin- 
 ued the treatment of my eyes with electricity, administered 
 by Dr. Barkan, until it seemed to do no more good. My 
 left eye improved, but my right eye did not. With strong 
 glasses I could see to do business, but they never got back 
 to their former condition. 
 
 In the fall of 1883 I bought an interest in a window shade 
 business, hoping to get something that could be pushed and 
 in which I could make some money. I continued long enough 
 to learn that there was no money in it above small wages, 
 but a great deal of physical labor. So I sold my interest to 
 my partner for the same money I gave for it and turned 
 my attention to something else. The next thing I tried was 
 a fire kindler, on which three of us got a patent. We bought 
 out the third man and started the business with very good 
 prospects of success. It was a good thing, and gave good 
 satisfaction, but cost too much to manufacture. I ran it 
 for all it was worth for six months, and found that I could 
 only make a living at it ; therefore we closed the business. 
 
 During the fall of 1883 my wife and I moved over to 
 San Francisco, on Geary Street, and opened a small store, 
 as my wife was anxious to engage in business again. She 
 could run the business without my help, but the competition 
 was so strong that she was not very successful. 
 
3o8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 In the spring of 1884 we bought out a small store on 
 Twenty-second Street where the prospects were better, and 
 moved over there, but there was not enough business for 
 both of us and I looked for something new, but it was no 
 easy task. Finally I got a chance to go in with a man by 
 the name of Merrill, from Maine. I continued with him; 
 for several weeks, but there was not much chaace for more 
 than a living. 
 
 For a year times had been pretty hard with me, and it 
 was a good deal of a struggle to keep up expenses, let alone 
 making anything. The investments I had made all turned 
 out poorly through no particular fault of mine, but through 
 circumstances over which I had no control. 
 
 One day, while feeling pretty blue, I got a note from 
 G. J. Becht to come and see him, as he wished me to go on 
 the road for him to sell Tufft's soda water apparatus and 
 other goods which he was agent for. I went at once to see 
 him, and agreed to start for him at seventy-five dollars per 
 month, all expenses paid. I at once closed out my business 
 with ]\lerrill and got ready to start for Northern California, 
 Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and back to San Fran- 
 cisco. This trip suited me to a fraction, as it was through 
 a country that I had not seen much of before. My trade 
 was with soda water men, and jewelers, to sell plated ware, 
 which Tufft had added to his large establishment of soda 
 apparatus in Boston, Mass. I sold also goods for my friend 
 Watson on commission. I had had some considerable expe- 
 rience as a travelling man in coming across the continent, 
 and also in making several trips about the country for Mr. 
 Watson in putting on acid feeders on gas generators, called 
 Waldo's acid feeder, the right of which Mr. Watson had 
 bought, and at different times had sent me outside the city 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 309 
 
 to put on for him at the following named places : Merced, 
 Modesto, Visalia, Los Angeles, San Bernardino, also Colusa 
 and Stockton and Vale jo. I had also canvassed the city 
 of San Francisco and all the towns about the bay with a 
 scale eradicator that Watson sold. I think it was some time 
 in May, 1884, that I started north, taking the train to Red- 
 ding, where I stayed over night, as that was the northern 
 terminus of the railroad at that time. 
 
 For the first time in all my travels I met a relative. When 
 I registered my name at the Redding Flotel a man stood 
 waiting to put his name down. ''Porter, Porter," he said, 
 "that's my name," and we compared notes and found that 
 my grandfather and his grandfather were brothers, and 
 that he was a member of the firm of Porter, Schleissinger 
 & Co., of San Francisco, a large boot and shoe firm, and he 
 was the travelling man of the firm. I have never seen him 
 since. I took the stage at night and had to ride continu- 
 ously for nearly thirty-six hours, crossing the Trinity Moun- 
 tains and Scott Mountains, before we could reach the town 
 of Yreka, which I left twenty-seven years before. We left 
 the town of Shasta just before dark, with the stage loaded 
 with passengers, but when we reached the junction of the 
 road that went to Weaverville quite a number changed for 
 that place, and we were not so crowded. When we got to 
 French Gulch we lost two more passengers, which left me 
 alone on the outside with the driver. The night was cool, 
 but pleasant, and just at daylight we changed horses at the 
 foot of Trinity Mountain. There were but two passengers 
 left now besides myself, an old gentleman and his wife, who 
 seemed to be, to all appearances, English people. The man, 
 I should judge, was about fifty years of age, and his wife 
 fair, fat, and forty. As we ascended the mountain we could 
 
310 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 catch a glimpse of fine mountain scenery now and then 
 through the pine trees. It was ten miles to the foot of the 
 mountain on the other side, where we were to stop for break- 
 fast. Our climb up the mountain was at a slow walk, and 
 it looked as though we would not get anything to eat before 
 noon. The cool, bracing air sharpened our appetites, and 
 the old Englishman and his wife were complaining about 
 the slow pace and the poor prospect of getting any break- 
 fast in time. "I'll get you to breakfast on time," said the 
 driver, giving me a wink. ''Blast the bloody country!" said 
 the Englishman. Finally we reached the summit, the horses 
 were watered, and we started off on a brisk trot for half a 
 mile, when we began to descend, and the horses began to 
 gallop, and soon after were on a dead run. The road was 
 good, but the pace was fearful. I was hanging on for dear 
 life to keep my seat. I glanced back at the Englishman and 
 his wife, whose countenances were the picture of despair, 
 and they were bounding about like pebbles in a rattle box. 
 As we would round a curve, they would crash against one 
 side of the coach and the next instant were piled up against 
 the other side. "I'll soon get you to breakfast now," says 
 the driver over his shoulder. "Dom the breakfast," says 
 Johnny Bull, "go a little slower." "Can't do it," said the 
 driver, as we switched around the next curve, with a yawn- 
 ing precipice a thousand feet below. A little screech of fear 
 would now and then escape the lips of the woman, but 
 Johnny Bull got swearing mad and shouted out: "The 
 bloody, blawsted country. I'll 'ave him arrested, so 'elp me 
 God, if I hever get safe down the 'ill !" 
 
 When we drew up at the eating house, at the foot of the 
 mountain, I asked the Englishman if he had read Horace 
 Greeley's "Trip with Hank Monk Down the Sierras." He 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 311 
 
 gave me a look of contempt and limped slowly away and 
 went into breakfast, assisted by his good wife, but I noticed 
 they had splendid appetites. I was very glad that the trip 
 was over. We had no time to admire the scenery coming 
 down, and thought only of self-preservation. It was a fear- 
 ful ride, to say the least. 
 
 After leaving the station, we jogged along at an easy pace, 
 over a good road on a moderate grade, until we reached 
 Scott's Mountains, with a long, steep, winding grade on the 
 south side clear to the summit. Here the top of Shasta hove 
 in sight an hour or two before sunset. I knew the grand old 
 mountain at once from my two and a half years' acquaintance 
 with it twenty-seven years before. It was like meeting an 
 old friend, and I could not tire looking at it. The grade 
 down was not so steep as that on Trinity Mountain, and our 
 pace was not so exciting or half as fast, and we drew up 
 at Callahan's in fair condition, but very tired from the long 
 ride. 
 
 As we rolled down Scott's Valley, where we left the 
 Englishman and his wife, I was now the only passenger, 
 and as night came on I took the inside of the coach, as it 
 was much colder than the previous one. For two or three 
 hours I got along very well, getting a short nap now and 
 then until we reached the summit, between Scott's Valley 
 and Yreka. Down the mountain the road was intolerably 
 rough, and I bounded about worse than the Englishman did 
 on Trinity, and learned from experience how it was myself. 
 I think that was the worst hour's ride I ever had on a stage, 
 though perhaps not as exciting. Finally we reached a com- 
 paratively smooth road, and in a short time reached Yreka, 
 at 2.30 A.M. As soon as we reached the hotel I went to my 
 room and left orders not to b^ called, About 11 a.m. I woke 
 
312 ^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 up, had dinner, and found myself so used up that I could 
 hardly walk. 
 
 Yreka presented an altogether different appearance than 
 it did when I left it in 1857. One thing more noticeable 
 to me than anything else was the trees that lined the streets 
 and the fruit that was growing in every yard, where there 
 was not a shrub, tree, or flower when I left the town. There 
 were some new buildings and neat cottages, but the popula- 
 tion of the immediate town was less than when I left it. 
 After some inquiry, I found that five residents I formerly 
 knew were still there, which I thought quite remarkable for 
 California. My old friend Tom Bantz, who went home on 
 the same ship with me in 1857, had returned the year after 
 and was now a resident of the town. It took but a short 
 time to find him, but I found him a wreck, crippled with 
 rheumatism, and limbs and arms out of shape, but other- 
 wise as jolly and lively as ever. Tom was very glad to 
 see me, but was poor, and, as he told me, was only waiting 
 to die. I had a sad but enjoyable visit with him. One 
 thing he had retained, and that was his love for whisky, 
 though he told me he had not drank to excess for many 
 years. We had a couple of drinks together, and that loos- 
 ened his tongue and brightened him up wonderfully. Tom 
 was himself again, but he was not able to be out again the 
 next day. Poor Tom! He was his worst enemy. When I 
 shook hands with him, to part forever, the tears rolled down 
 his cheeks and he could not speak a loud word. I could 
 hardly suppress my own feelings, and it was a sad and alm.ost 
 silent parting of old friends. He died a few years after, a 
 victim of King Alcohol. The other four old acquaintances 
 were all well fixed and doing well, all first-rate citizens, with 
 .whom I had a good visit, 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 313 
 
 I visited Scott's Valley and the other little towns scattered 
 throughout the valley, spending a couple of days selling 
 goods. I did very well, and went back to Yreka. Having a 
 desire to visit Canal Gulch, where I used to mine, I wended 
 my way across the fields to my old mines, where I spent two 
 and a half years in placer mining. The hills and mountains 
 were all fam.iliar, but the spot where my old cabin home 
 had been was completely obliterated, and I could not tell 
 within fifty feet where it stood. The whole gulch was washed 
 full of dirt and gravel, fifteen or twenty feet deep. 
 
 As I stood on the site of the old cabin I could look back 
 with my mind's eye and see things as they were, but where 
 were those hundreds of stalwart men I once knew. Echo 
 answers, Where ? There is not a more dreary place on earth 
 than an old worked-out mine. I did not stay long, it was 
 too lonesome. There was not a man, woman, or child in 
 sight, and yet the old hills and mountains seemed to welcome 
 me: I walked back to tov/n with old memories freshened, 
 but gained nothing. 
 
 The next morning I took the stage for Ashland, Oregon, 
 a twelve hours' ride. We had a full load of passengers, 
 the day was fine, and the scenery grand, but as I had seen 
 it years before there was nothing new to me. From the 
 summit of the Siskiyou Mountains there are places where 
 the scenery is unique and most beautiful, with the snow-clad 
 mountains, most of which are covered with the finest of tim- 
 ber, hardly touched by the hand of man. In the fall of 1854, 
 with a companion, I passed over this same route, leading 
 an Indian pony, with our blankets and mining tools packed 
 on his back. Thirty years had wrought but little change 
 that I could see, but there were great changes going on. 
 Since then I have crossed the Siskiyou Mountains, in sum- 
 
314 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 mer and winter, by rail, which presents much finer views 
 than any seen from the stage route. 
 
 At the foot of the mountains we paid one dollar each for 
 the privilege of lying on the floor, finding our own blankets, 
 and using our boots for pillows. There was not a house 
 or a shanty where Ashland now stands. The only town in 
 that whole section of country, at the time we were there, 
 in 1854, was Jacksonville, a mining town; Medhurst is now 
 the station for Jacksonville on the railroad. 
 
 We arrived at Ashland before night, and I stopped there 
 several days, doing a pretty good business. It was quite a 
 thriving town, and at that time the terminus of the railroad 
 from Portland. 
 
 I was glad to get through staging. After finishing up 
 my business at Ashland, I took the train for Roseburg, Ore- 
 gon, where I made my next stop. During my stay at Ash- 
 land I drove over to Jacksonville, where in 1854 I stopped 
 for dinner, and in looking over the old town found the old 
 log hotel (now used as a barn) where we stopped thirty 
 years before. 
 
 Roseburg, Oregon, is a town of some importance, and I 
 did some business there. My next stopping place was Eugene 
 City, on the head waters of the Willamette River, in the 
 Willamette Valley, the next largest valley to the Sacramento 
 Valley on the coast. This valley was settled long before 
 gold was discovered in California. It is a rich country, but 
 very damp most of the year. One noticeable feature is that 
 all the roofs of the houses are covered with green moss, 
 as well as all the fences and fruit trees. At that time most 
 of the people were from Missouri, and it was like being set 
 back in that State, as far as manners and methods were 
 concerned, especially the way the hogs ran loose in the 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 315 
 
 small towns, keeping the sides of the streets well cultivated, 
 a perfect counterpart of Missouri towns. 
 
 Eugene City was more advanced and considerable busi- 
 ness was being done there. Albany, my next stop, is a 
 place of considerable importance, with the town of Corvallis, 
 on the west side of the river, a few miles away, also a thriv- 
 ing town, though not as large as Albany. 
 
 There was one thing I noticed in Corvallis while there. 
 On* the resident streets the lots were fifty to one hundred 
 feet frontage, with. plenty of room for a garden. The soil is 
 rich and capable of raising all kinds of garden truck, but 
 the residents were buying cabbage heads at ten cents per 
 head, brought from San Francisco by steamer. I asked a 
 man who had a cabbage under his arm, carrying it home, 
 why he did not raise his own cabbage. **Oh," says he, "we 
 never tried it." "Look over there in that patch," says I, 
 "the weeds seem to grow finely, and I know that land will 
 grow cabbages as well as weeds." "Wal, stranger, I reckon 
 you are right, but I never see'd anyone raise 'em." 
 
 People in the farming section of the country in Oregon, 
 as well as California, never raise anything they can buy. 
 Wheat and barley, barley and wheat, and nothing else — not 
 even chickens. 
 
 From Albany I went to Salem, the capital of the State, 
 most beautifully situated, and seemed to be flourishing. I 
 stayed there for several days, and on leaving the place, on an 
 early train going north, was in the first railroad accident of 
 my life. We were crossing a bridge, about six miles from 
 Salem, when the bridge broke down, and the tender fell 
 through, and the other cars piled up on it, or turned over, 
 bottom side up, in the mud and water, about ten or twelve 
 feet below the track. 
 
3i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 All the cars of the train, except the locomotive and the 
 rear passenger car, that had no passengers in it, were 
 wrecked. The car I was in stood at an angle of forty-five 
 degrees, and we were all more or less bruised. No one 
 was killed outright, but two or three were considered fatally 
 injured. We were all taken back, after some delay, to 
 Salem and cared for at the railroad's expense. The uninjured 
 and slightly injured were sent on that afternoon. 
 
 The bridge had been set on fire during the night, and 
 the ties almost burned off, where the accident happened. It 
 is supposed that it was done by tramps or some enemy of 
 the road. 
 
 I reached Oregon City that night and got through with 
 my business the next day, and went to Portland. I reached 
 that place, July 3, 18(84. The next day, July 4th, was the 
 first day that it did not rain more or less since I left Yreka, 
 California, and I thought the country was rightly named as 
 the *'web-foot" country. At Portland I stopped for some 
 weeks, with trips radiating in every direction, going as far 
 north as Port Townsend, visiting all the important towns 
 about the Sound — Seattle, Tacoma, etc. — without any par- 
 ticular mishap, but did a good business, saw the country, and 
 enjoyed myself as I generally do, returning to Portland after 
 a couple of weeks. 
 
 After a few days I went up the Columbia River and saw 
 what I consider one of the grandest sights on the continent 
 in the way of scenery. Its magnitude is what makes it so 
 grand. The formation of the rocks, the various falls, the 
 old block house where Sheridan first distinguished himself 
 in fighting the Indians, the rapids of the river, and the 
 steamboat canal that the government is building; the con- 
 tinual change in the formation of the different kinds of rock, 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 317 
 
 the Multonomah Falls, one of the most remarkable in the 
 United States, and so on, until you reach the Dalles, where 
 the river looks as though you could almost jump across it, 
 yet so deep that it carries an immense quantity of water, 
 spreading out over a mile wide when it reaches the moun- 
 tains. This ride up or down the Columbia River through 
 the Cascade Mountains was the most impressive to me of 
 any I had ever seen, and no matter how many times you may 
 see it it always affords a new interest. 
 
 I went as far east as Walla Walla, and then returned, after 
 having enjoyed an afternoon in fishing for speckled trout 
 in the Walla Walla Creek, with very fair success. Here 
 I had an introduction to John Sherman, then Senator from 
 Ohio, who was making a tour of the Western country. He 
 visited the cavalry military post, located near Walla Walla. 
 
 When I returned to Portland and finished up my business 
 there, I had orders from Becht to "eturn by steamer to San 
 Francisco. My trip had been a most enjoyable one, and I 
 had seen a large portion of our country that I had never 
 seen before. 
 
 In a few days Becht started me on a trip through the 
 southern part of the State, stoppmg first at Modesto, then 
 taking in all the principal towns to Los Angeles, and from 
 there to San Bernardino, Riverside, Pomona, and other 
 towns. Then I went back to Los Angeles, then by steamer 
 to San Diego, where I stayed for a week. It was now No- 
 vember, and I took the steamer from there to San Luis 
 Obispo. I stopped here over Sunday, and took the next 
 steamer for San Francisco. I was at home through Decem- 
 ber and January, 1885, when Mr. Becht, having secured the 
 agency for the Hayward Hand Grenade, started me north 
 again to make public exhibitions of putting out fires and 
 
3i8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 selling the grenades. During the winter there had been 
 great strife between the Harden Hand Grenade and the Hay- 
 ward Hand Grenade, with not much advantage to either, 
 both being good, but, as I thought, the Hayward bottle broke 
 the most readily, and therefore proved the best in many a 
 well-fought contest, in which a great deal of bitterness on 
 the part of the Harden folks was shown. 
 
 Agents of the Harden had visited the greater part of the 
 coast, and we came together for the first time at San Fran- 
 cisco. The fight between the two agents in the press and on 
 the streets was a very amusing affair to outsiders, but costly 
 for the proprietors. 
 
 A man by the name of Gross, from Chicago, handled the 
 Harden and was a hustler. When I took the steamer at 
 San Francisco for Portland, Oregon, in the last part of 
 February, I found Mr. Gross on board, going to Portland to 
 push the sale of the Harden Hand Grenade. I said nothing, 
 and Mr. Gross did not know that I represented the Hayward 
 Grenade. He talked considerably and gave me an inkling 
 of his plans, one of which was that he intended to have a fire 
 to demonstrate the superiority of his grenade over all others. 
 He had two or three expert men with him to put out fires 
 and astonish the Portlanders. When I got to Portland I 
 engaged Ed. Post, and old friend and acquaintance of mine, 
 to assist me in getting the **Hayward" before the public. 
 We had had no experience in handling the grenade, so we 
 concluded to experiment a little. 
 
 Mr; Post lived in South Portland, and we took a box of 
 grenades out to his residence and made our preparations 
 to build and put out a fire and learn how to do it. In a day 
 or two Gross had an exhibition and put out a fire near the 
 center of the town. Then he had flaming accounts of it in 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 319 
 
 all the papers, and commenced to canvass the town for the 
 sale of his grenade. The next day after Gross's exhibition 
 Post and I in his back yard started in to test our grenade. 
 The first two fires we started we failed to put out, but the 
 third one was a complete success. We first secured a vacant 
 lot, then advertised in the papers that there would be an 
 exhibition of the Hayward Hand Grenade to show its su- 
 periority over the Harden. A well-known citizen of Port- 
 land, not an expert, would handle the grenades. The ad. 
 took. Post was known to almost everybody in Portland, 
 having been born and raised there. We built our structure, 
 and we had a larger crowd than Gross had. Gross and his 
 men predicted a great failure, but when we put the fire 
 completely out with two grenades (while it took eight to 
 put their fire out), the enthusiasm among the crowd of peo- 
 ple was intense. All the daily papers gave us a great puff 
 without the asking. This so enraged Gross that he adver- 
 tised another exhibition, but he did not have much of a 
 crowd, and it took a dozen grenades to put out his fire, and 
 we gained a complete victory over the Harden. I made Post 
 our resident agent at Portland, placed advertisements in the 
 papers, and after a few days started north, making my first 
 stop at Chehalis, Washington, where I had an exhibition 
 that was a success. 
 
 From thence I went to Tacoma and Seattle, Port Towns- 
 end, and then was ordered to Victoria, B. C., to establish 
 an agency. When I arrived at Victoria Gross's experts 
 were there and had been for ten days, and had had a fire 
 and sold some grenades. I stopped at the American Hotel, 
 where I found them, and they were so mad that they threat- 
 ened violence to me, but the landlord took my part. The 
 next- day I ckanged to a private hotel, where I was better 
 
320 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 accommodated. An American woman from San Francisco 
 kept the house, and I being* about the only American in the 
 house, she gave me the best room she had, and took first-rate 
 care of me. The house was filled with young Englishmen, 
 mostly single. A few had their wives. Not one of them had 
 ever been in the United States and knew nothing of our ways 
 and customs. Among them were dukes and lords, with 
 sons and daughters, and I had a good opportunity to study 
 the Englishman as he is *'at 'ome." Some of them were 
 regular snobs and put on a great many airs, and had a great 
 deal to say in derision of American manners and customs. 
 Of course, I felt like calling them down, and did so in a 
 few instances, but I was in a foreign country alone, and 
 they would not listen to me for a moment. It was very 
 amusing to me to find how very green they were regarding 
 the United States and the manners and customs of our peo- 
 ple. I asked them a great many questions, and they asked 
 many in return, but nothing could compare with what they 
 ** 'ad hin England at 'ome." Some of them did not drop the 
 *'h's,'' but most of them did. The ladies were much more 
 ignorant about our country than the men. Though most of 
 them were healthy, hearty looking women, they did not seem 
 to have that self-confident and self-reliant bearing that our 
 American women have. Although I was at the house but 
 a week, I got more insight into the English character than 
 I had in all my life before. 
 
 The next day after my arrival the Harden men got out 
 handbills and advertised to give one more exhibition of 
 their grenade. I learned that I had to get a permit from 
 the chief of the fire department of Victoria and also the 
 mayor of the city before I could start a fire for exhibition 
 purposes. The father of the man who wanted the agency 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 321 
 
 became very enthusiastic over the matter and told me that 
 the mayor never would have been mayor but for his influ- 
 ence, and he thought he could get him to sign a permit for 
 me to make an exhibition. I learned that the mayor had 
 promised that he would not allow any one else to start a 
 fire except the Harden folks ; therefore it looked rather blue 
 for me. But the old gentleman, his son, and myself started 
 out to see the chief of the fire department, and after some 
 parleying got him to sign the permit; then, by the advice 
 of the old gentleman, waited until the next morning to meet 
 the mayor at his office before applying to him. 
 
 The next morning we were on hand at the mayor's office 
 waiting for him to come. After a while he made his appear- 
 ance and I was introduced to him and stated my business. 
 He shook his head and said he could not consent. The old 
 gent took him off to another room, and they had some pretty 
 lively talk, but it was not more than ten minutes before the 
 mayor came back and affixed his signature to the permit, 
 seemingly very much out of humor. I thanked him and we 
 left. I immediately got out a handbill, naming the night 
 after the Harden trial, and had it distributed about town. 
 The public, finding there was opposition to the Harden, 
 made the attendance at their fire quite a large one. 
 
 When their trial came it took the two so-called experts 
 and nine grenades some time to put out the fire. The next 
 day we put up our lumber and light wood, saturated with 
 coal oil, for our fire, and before the time of starting the 
 attendance was nearly double the number that the Harden 
 folk had the night before. I stated to the people in a short 
 speech that in order to show them the superiority of the 
 Hayward Hand Grenade over the Harden I would let one 
 of their citizens, who had never handled a grenade, put out 
 
322 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the fire and do It easier than the experts of the Harden did; 
 I then introduced the young man, whom everybody knew. 
 The people cheered him on. We started the fire, and when 
 it was well started the young man put it out with four 
 grenades, beating the Harden folks by five grenades, and we 
 had the largest fire. That settled the Harden people. They 
 acknowledged defeat, shook hands with me, and said, ''You 
 have too much sand for us." I never met the Harden at 
 any other town. I established the agency with an order 
 for fifty cases and took the first steamer for Seattle. I had 
 good success here and made many sales, and after visiting 
 a number of other towns returned to Portland, Oregon, 
 having made a satisfactory trip through that country. 
 
 I arrived at Portland May 6, 1885, where I received orders 
 to go to Alkali. After attending to business in Portland 
 until the nth, I took the train up the Columbia River. After 
 a day at Alkali I returned to Portland, arriving on the 13th 
 of May. I was not well, almost tired out, and I took a few 
 days' rest to recuperate a little. 
 
 On the 22d I left Portland for Eugene City, in the Wil- 
 lamette Valley. I arrived there all right, but found they 
 had had a fire there in April, and could not put it out with 
 Harden grenades, of which they had a lot on hand. I offered 
 to compete with the Harden agent at that place, but he would 
 not do it. So I made no test at Eugene, but went farther 
 up the river to Cottage Grove, and had a good test there, 
 and went back to Eugene City. 
 
 On May 28th I left Eugene City for Salem and Independ- 
 ence. I had a test at Independence, and it was a good one. 
 Then I went to Portland on the soda business, then back 
 again to Salem. 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 323 
 
 On June 5th I had a good fire test there. Having made 
 tests all over that part of the country, and put ads. in nearly 
 all the newspapers, I left Portland and went to Walla Walla. 
 I arrived there on June loth to give a test and hold myself 
 subject to orders. So again I had the pleasure of passing 
 up the beautiful Columbia River and its wonderful scenery. 
 
 After arriving in Walla Walla I made preparations for a 
 fire and test of the hand grenade. An editor of one of the 
 papers of that town said he had some hand grenades in his 
 office, but they were good for nothing. I told him if they 
 were the Hayward I would show him that they were good 
 if he would let me use them to put the fire out. He agreed, 
 and I put the fire out with four of them in good shape. I 
 went from Walla Walla to Dayton, W. T., where I had a 
 good test and sold a number of cases. I passed through as 
 fine a wheat country as I ever saw. I returned to Walla 
 Walla and visited Randall's folks, had a good visit, and then 
 started for Weston and Pendleton, Oregon. 
 
 I had a good test at Weston and took the stage for Pen- 
 dleton, over a rolling country, through almost a continuous 
 wheat field, until we reached the Indian Reservation. I for- 
 get the name of the tribe, but they were good specimens of 
 the red man. I got to Pendleton all right and had a test 
 there. I did very well, and then over the mountains to 
 Round Valley. I stopped at La Grande, a lively little town, 
 where I had a test in a gale of wind, but put the fire out 
 all right. From thence I went to Union and had a test 
 before the board of trustees on the Fourth of July, with ex- 
 cellent success, and took orders from the board, and left in 
 due time for Baker City, where I had a fine test and did 
 very well. I then left for a little town called Huntington, 
 a few miles from where the O. R. & N. crosses the Snake 
 
324 ^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 River Into Idaho. I wrote a little sketch of the town and 
 sent it to the Alameda Argus, a copy of which I will give, 
 as it is better than I can do now : 
 
 "Snake River Country, Oregon and Idaho, July 23, 1885. 
 
 ''Editor Argus: — One hundred degrees in the shade is too 
 hot for my mental powers to be very active, as it requires 
 a great deal of exertion to manage red-hot ideas, for they 
 might give the wrong impression of the country I am trying 
 to write up so faithfully. You have heard of Huntington, 
 Oregon, I presume. It is near the end of Burnt River, a 
 small creek of no particular dimensions except in a cloud- 
 burst and for use of the railroad. Huntington was discov- 
 ered by the railroad and was a miserable discovery. You 
 have, no doubt, when quite young heard your mother say 
 what you thought then very bad words when she had made a 
 nice large cake (the pride of her heart) and through some 
 mishap, or poor yeast, it came out of the oven with a large 
 hole in the center, which spoiled the appearance of it en- 
 tirely, and the cake was divided up between the children, 
 dogs, and the swill barrel. Huntington occupies the same 
 place on the face of the earth as the hole occupied in the 
 face of the cake, and is divided up into swill, dogs, and a few 
 children, poor liquor, and a large new railroad hotel, built 
 at a cost of six thousand dollars, which is five thousand 
 eight hundred and ninety-seven dollars more than all the 
 rest of the town is worth, outside the hotel (not finished 
 yet). 
 
 "The thermometer at this time of the year reaches 116 de- 
 grees on the shady side of a saloon (there is no other shade 
 there, except one Ethiopian cook). The hotel is a joint en- 
 terprise of the O. R. & N. Co. and the Oregon Short Line 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 325 
 
 Co. The water there is strongly tinctured with alkah. You 
 change cars and stop one hour and fifteen minutes — just that 
 much time too long. If you want to know any more about it 
 you had better get some other fellow to describe it, as I 
 feel a sort of goneness from the effort to do the miserable 
 place jutsice, and at the same time keep solid with the rail- 
 road. 
 
 "I left the place with many regrets that I had to stay so 
 long. Good bye, Huntington! Pantingly I part with thee, 
 hoping to see thee never more. 
 
 '*\Ve cross the Snake River soon after into Idaho, and roll 
 along at eight cents a mile through a splendid crop of sage 
 brush as far as the eye could reach. Don't think I ever 
 saw a better crop even in the sage-brush State. The Oregon 
 Legislature by some miraculous means let the railroad in 
 that State carry us over a much better road and better coun- 
 try at four cents per mile, which I could never quite under- 
 stand. The California Legislature, with their commissioners, 
 won't let the railroads do it in that State. They are not so 
 poor there. As the Snake River valley widened, the more 
 sage brush you could see. There arc some few people set- 
 tled along the streams and some fertile spots where you could 
 cut a whole load of hay. One enthusiastic Idahoan fellow 
 passenger said it was the finest kind of land, only it needed 
 irrigation. I was not prepared to dispute him, and his man- 
 ner indicated an acquiescence on my part, as his coat tail 
 lifted in the breeze from the opposite window when he arose 
 to make his argument more effective and to inform me that 
 as a stock country it excelled all others. I am satisfied there 
 is a good deal of stock there, for as we whirled along I 
 could see jack rabbits running in every direction, with a 
 coyote now and then in the dim distance, This information 
 
326 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 was confirmed by a quiet old lady in the seat back of me, 
 whom I asked if the women voted in Idaho. She informed 
 me that they did not, but in a close vote they sometimes 
 voted mules. She also informed me that the reason of our 
 seeing so many jack rabbits was that they had been down 
 to the river to take a swim ; that it was customary for them 
 to go every afternoon to the river and perform their ablu- 
 tions. I saw their tails were all black, as though covered 
 with mud, and remarked it, but she smiled, and I informed 
 her that I was not posted in regard to the habits of beasts. 
 At that moment the train stopped at a tent and corral and 
 she left. I was real sorry to have her leave, as I could, no 
 doubt, have gained considerable information that would be 
 reliable, for you know it is much better to get facts fresh 
 from the resident people of a country than to rely upon what 
 drummers and tourists say that somebody else has told. 1 
 did intend to go as far as Boise City with this letter, but 
 shall have to cut it short, I am afraid, as I found a rather 
 uninteresting ride of fifteen miles by stage to Boise over a 
 vast field of sage brush and lava rock and not a drop of 
 water." 
 
 I arrived at Boise all right, had a fine test, and did very 
 well with the grenades there. I visited the G. A. R. post 
 of that place and had a good time generally. I went from 
 Boise to Shoshone, and had another good test there, and 
 then started for Ogden, Utah, where I had a test. From 
 here I went to Salt Lake City, where I found the weather 
 very hot. At the Walker House I met Josh Billings, and 
 our just-appointed Minister to China, the Honorable Mr. 
 Denby. I think that was July 31, 1885. After a stay of a 
 few days at Salt Lake City I went back to Ogden, and from 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 327 
 
 there to Park City, where I had a test and did some busi- 
 ness with the Mormons. I returned to Ogden almost sick 
 and tired out. The weather was very hot. Becht wrote me 
 to come to San Francisco, but stop on my way at Reno, 
 Truckee, Nevada, and Grass Valley, giving" tests on my re- 
 turn wherever I thought best. I made a test at Truckee, but 
 at none of the other places, and arrived at San Francisco 
 on the 17th of August, having been away for six months. 
 My trip was a very satisfactory one to my employer, but 
 I had to work hard to make it so. I did not miss making a 
 good test on the whole trip. 
 
 I stayed about the Bay and went to Stockton and some 
 other places until September the 20th, when I started for 
 Napa and the towns north with plated ware and soda stock 
 for Becht. I went to St. Helena, Calistoga, Healdsburg, 
 Lakeport, and then around to Ukiah and down to Peteluma 
 and back to San Francisco. I was gone thirteen days and 
 had a fine trip. On the 8th of October I started for Dixon 
 with the hand grenade. I made a good test there and then 
 went on to Oroville, made a good test there, and then on to 
 Marysville. I had a good test there and did very well. 
 Marysville has got to be a regular hole in the ground. I 
 went upon the levee and looked down upon the old brick 
 building that was occupied by the Adams Express in 1853, 
 where I landed from the steamer, with a foot of water on 
 the floor. The river Yuba was running forty feet above the 
 floor of the same building at that time, and I stood at least 
 forty feet higher on top of the levee, looking down on the 
 building, at an angle of forty-five degrees. Some day 
 Marysville will be swallowed up by a flood and become a 
 buried city. Thousands of dollars are spent every year to 
 raise the levee above the city, but I think the city is doomed 
 
328 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 as sure as the sun shines. From thence I went to Chico, then 
 left for San Francisco and home. 
 
 Previous to my trip to the northern towns Becht and I 
 went to Santa Cruz and Watsonville and had two fine fire 
 tests. 
 
 My friend, I. N. Chapman, got me a position as city super- 
 intendent to put in a Hne of sewers in Alameda, which took 
 me a month or more to complete. I went over to see my 
 old friend, Judge Beehtel, at Fruitvale, where I had a good 
 visit with him and his good wife. 
 
 On the 9th of December I was examined for life insurance 
 in the Great Western Mutual Aid Association of Denver, 
 Colorado, in which I was wofully taken in after paying the 
 policy for ten years or more, this being the second time 
 that I had been taken in by life-insurance swindles, but that 
 ended the business with me. 
 
 The nth of December, which was my wife's birthday, 
 we celebrated quietly at home. A couple of years before 
 I had bought of a Mrs. Parsons a lot in the city of Alameda, 
 on the installment plan. Paid for it and still own it. 
 
 On the 17th of December, 1885, with Mr. George Henrie, 
 I bought out a fruit store on Fourth Street, San Francisco, 
 near Market Street, of P. H. Woods, and went into the fruit 
 business. We did very well for a while, until Mr. Henrie 
 sent for his son, a boy of twenty, and put him in with me. 
 He was a pretty wild youth, and thought more about his 
 own pleasure and the girls than he did of business. He was 
 a fine-looking young man, and not a bad boy by any means, 
 but was not the kind of partner to have for success, conse- 
 quently I sold out to him for about the same as I had put 
 into the business and was glad to do it. This was the first 
 of April, 1886. Mr. Henrie, the old gentleman, was a fine 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 329 
 
 old gentleman, a mining expert by profession and in the 
 employ of a large mining company who were opening up an 
 extensive mine in Mexico. After the father left for Mexico 
 the son had no one to hold him back, and after buying me 
 out he spent the money faster than he could make it. He 
 lasted until the fall, when he failed, and went back to Pueblo, 
 Colorado, where he came from. 
 
 About the 20th of May I bought out a fruit store at 1657 
 Mission Street and started in alone with a clerk, and in a 
 few days opened with very good prospects. I made a suc- 
 cess of it from the start, and did remarkably well, consid- 
 ering the opposition that I had to contend with. My wife 
 still ran her place on Twenty-Second Street, where we made 
 our home; in fact, kept it going all summer, when we sold 
 out and she moved in with me, and we kept house in rooms 
 back of the store. I needed her help very much, as she was 
 a splendid saleswoman, well liked by the customers, and our 
 business was very prosperous. For a couple of years our 
 bank account grew and we did well. The business was a 
 little hard on me, I had to work so many hours, and my old 
 trouble of neuralgia* began to trouble me considerably, and 
 I had several spells of rather severe sickness. The effects 
 of the war and prison life down South were beginning to 
 show, and my nervous system was being badly broken up, 
 but my will power exceeded my physical powers, and though 
 I began to fail gradually my mental faculties remained in- 
 tact, and I kept on. 
 
 My neuralgia was getting worse, and the terrible pains 
 came more frequently and lasted longer. If I took cold I 
 was sure to have neuralgia. If I got wet it was sure to bring 
 it on, or if I lost my sleep it was sure to bring on an attack. 
 Slowly but surely I could see myself going down. During 
 
330 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the years 1887-88-89 I kept on, but was getting so nervous 
 that I could hardly write a legible hand, and I began trying 
 harder to get a pension, so that I could, with what we had, 
 have something to fall back upon, quit business, and take 
 a rest, which I knew I must have, or get help in some way. 
 My wife was not well and needed rest also. Time wore on, 
 and I was getting worse, yet I seemed to have no particular 
 organic trouble. My friend, Tom Burns, who was in the 
 same business on Seventh Street, San Francisco, used to 
 talk to me about my condition, and said I had better sell out 
 and take a trip East, but I hardly thought that I could afford 
 it; therefore kept on. 
 
 I had a severe fit of sickness in December, 1889, but Dr. 
 Donnelly brought me out, except the nervous trouble. In 
 January, 1890, I had a bad attack of neuralgia, and was laid 
 up in bed for some days with inflammation of the eyes and 
 neuralgia. My wife was almost sick and hardly able to be 
 about. Whenever I took cold or got wet I was sure to have 
 neuralgia, yet I did not give up, though at times things 
 looked rather blue. We had a very good young man for a 
 clerk, and he kept the business going very well under the 
 direction of myself and my friend, Tom Burns. About this 
 time J. H. Beasley came to see me with a newly married 
 wife ; he was a brother to my wife and a travelling salesman 
 for a furniture firm in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He loved 
 his whisky too well to suit me, and we were not as congenial 
 as might be. 
 
 On February ist I had another attack of neuralgia in my 
 eyes and did not sleep for ten days and nights. 
 
 On February loth I began to improve a little, and got so 
 that I could be about again. I was pretty badly off now 
 ^nd then to the ist of March, when I felt fairly well. My 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 331 
 
 wife was not well and seemed to be getting worse, but 
 would have no doctor or take any medicine. I could see 
 that she was failing. I had no more attacks during the 
 month of March. 
 
 On April 2d I went before the examining board to be 
 examined for a pension. On the morning of April 3d 
 'I was caught in a shower of rain and got wet through. 
 (The neuralgia set in in a few hours in both eyes and grew 
 worse all the while. They sent for Dr. Donnelly, but he 
 could not ease me. The pain was most excruciating, and 
 I simply had to yell and could not suppress it. It was like 
 sticking red-hot needles through my eye balls with scarcely 
 a moment's relapse. An ulcer commenced growing on my 
 left eye at night, April 3d, and in forty-eight hours com- 
 pletely covered my eye, and I was totally blind in that eye. 
 No ulcer came on the right eye, but it pained me just as 
 bad as the left. My right eye had been the poorest eye since 
 the war, consequently I was practically a blind man. For 
 eighteen days and nights I had little sleep, and the darting 
 pains of neuralgia were almost incessant. People stood 
 around about the room watching to see me die, for I was 
 becoming so exhausted that I could hardly move myself in 
 bed. A 4 per cent, solution of cocaine gave momentary re- 
 lief, but only for a few seconds. It seemed to me that I 
 would give anything I had or ever expected to have for an 
 hour's sleep. On the nineteenth day I fell asleep for a few 
 moments, then a little longer each day, until I could sleep 
 for an hour or more, but the pain was continually with me. 
 The little sleep that I got kept up my strength. I was a little 
 better on May 7th, and that day my wife had to go to bed 
 very sick, and we had to have a nurse night and day, as she 
 was out of her head most of th^ time and continually fail- 
 
332 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ing. I was no better, and my horse was taken sick and 
 became useless. 
 
 On the 17th of May I had to have my wife sent to St. 
 Luke's Hospital, where she could have better care. On the 
 226. I rode out with an attendant to the hospital to see my 
 wife, but I suffered intolerably all the way there and back. 
 She said she knew me, but I could see she was fast sinking 
 and could not live long. On the morning of the 24th of 
 May, 1890, she died, and was buried on the 26th at the 
 Veteran's Point Lobas Cemetery, San Francisco. I rode to 
 the grave in a hack, but was not able to walk to the grave. 
 We had lived together for twenty-four years, or since De- 
 cember 31st, 1865. God bless her! 
 
 My ride to the funeral nearly drove me mad with pain, 
 and I suffered from it terribly. I had become very thin in 
 flesh and did not seem to be getting any better, but rather 
 worse. My eyes were no better and the pain continued. 
 
 About the last day in May my friend, Mr. M. V. B. Wat- 
 son, made me a visit, and says he, *'Mr. Porter, you are 
 badly off, but keep up good courage ; maybe I can help you 
 some way." ''Yes," said I, "I know it, I feel myself going, 
 it is only a question of vitality now how long I will last ; but 
 there is one request I have to make of you, and that is I 
 wish you to make out a will for me. I wish to will every- 
 thing that I have to you, and when you get it made out 
 bring it up with a couple of witnesses. I feel that you are, 
 and have been, my best friend on this coast, and I want you 
 to have what little I have left. My doctor comes here twice 
 a day, yet does me no good and gives me no encouragement. 
 I am losing flesh and strength, and, in fact, it looks to me 
 as though I will soon follow my wife. I am not despondent 
 or very much discouraged, but cannot stand this very long." 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 333 
 
 "Well," says he, 'Til see what I can do for you, and will 
 be up to see you in a few days again." 
 
 In about five days, or sixty-five days after my attack, Mr. 
 Watson came again and brought with him an instrument 
 called the Electropoise, with a book of directions. He said 
 he wished me to try it, as it was making some remarkable 
 cures in the East, and he had been asked to take the agency 
 for this coast, but he knew nothing about it ; but if it would 
 cure me he thought it would be worth while and he would 
 take it. ''But," says he, "you will have to stop taking all 
 medicine." "Well," said I, "I am taking eight doses per 
 day, besides treatment of the eyes, and I hardly see how I 
 can discharge the doctor, as he has to treat my eyes twice a 
 day." "Well," said he, "get some friend in whom you have 
 confidence and have him read the book of directions, and 
 manage it some way not to take any medicine. I sent for 
 this instrument by telegraph as soon as I left you the other 
 day, and here it is. I think it will do no harm to try it." 
 "Mr. W^atson, I know that you would not advise me to do 
 anything that was wrong, and I'll try it. It does not make 
 any difference one way or the other." 
 
 After Mr. Watson had gone N. G. Tobey, a good friend of 
 mine, came in, and I explained the matter to him, and he 
 became enthusiastic right away and commenced reading the 
 book. 
 
 It was all Greek to us about charge and reaction, and the 
 rest of the terms, "but as to the no-medicine, I can fix that," 
 said Tobey. So he got some empty vials and pill boxes and 
 said: "We'll commence at once. Now, when it is time to 
 take your medicine, you take the regular dose and drop it 
 into the empty boxes and bottles instead of taking it. Put 
 them out of sight until the medicine is all out, then do the 
 
334 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 same thing over again. Now," he says, "that settles the 
 medicine question. The next thing is how to apply the 
 instrument." So he got the thing ready at once for appU- 
 cation. Between eight and nine p.m. that evening I was 
 snugly tucked up in bed, with the Electropoise attached 
 according to directions, and suffering from pain in my eyes 
 as usual. The next morning when Tobey came around to 
 see me there seemed to be no change that I could notice, 
 only I was no weaker. When the old doctor came to treat 
 my eyes and look over my stock of medicine, he thought my 
 pulse was better; anyhow I was no worse. At night when 
 Tobey came- we applied the instrument the same as the night 
 before, and I thought I slept better, but the pain woke me 
 in the morning the same as usual. 
 
 The doctor said that my medicine was getting low, and I 
 must send for a fresh supply. I felt very weak and had no 
 appetite, but the pain was not quite so severe, I thought. 
 So on the third night we applied the instrument again, and 
 Tobey replenished the medicine by putting in sight well- 
 filled boxes and bottles of the stuff that we had in reserve, 
 as I had not taken a single dose since I commenced the Elec- 
 tropoise treatment. My appetite was gone, and I drank 
 only a glass of milk the whole day. In the morning, after 
 using the machine for three nights I thought that the pain 
 did not come quite as often, or stay as long, although it 
 was just as severe as before. Tobey had been to see me, and 
 also the doctor, but I was weaker, I thought. About ten 
 A.M. the neuralgia made one jump through both eyes and 
 down my neck to the left arm, between the shoulders and 
 elbow, which made me yell out. I was alone and lay quiv- 
 ering, expecting another shock every moment, but hour after 
 hour wore away, and no pain came back, but I was very 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 335 
 
 weak, and when Tobey came at night to see tne I told him 
 all about it, and he fairly danced with joy to think that the 
 pain was all gone. That was the sixty-eighth day since the 
 pain commenced, and I was almost afraid to move for fear 
 of its return. Tobey read me the book again, and we con- 
 cluded to put the Electropoise on ice that night and try it at 
 a higher power. So Tobey got a large piece of ice and 
 scooped out a hole in the center and imbedded the electro- 
 poise in it, rolled it up in a woollen blanket and attached it 
 to my ankle or wrist, I forget which, and I went to bed at 
 just nine p.m. Tobey bade me good-night, and I lay there 
 alone, expecting a return of the pain every moment. After 
 about an hour I seemed to be burning up and had the queer- 
 est feelings in my head and all over me that I ever had in 
 my life, but the neuralgia did not return. At eleven p.m. the 
 button, or treating plate, began to burn like a hot iron, then 
 got hotter, until it seemed that it was burning a hole in my 
 ankle ; besides, I was in the greatest misery imaginable and 
 I could scarcely breathe. I stood it until twelve p.m., and 
 then, more dead than alive, took it off. The peculiar feelings 
 kept on the same as before, but wore off at the same rate 
 as they came on until three a.m., when I was about the same 
 as when I put it on. I dropped to sleep as soon as I heard 
 the clock strike three, and did not wake up again till after 
 nine o'clock the same morning, so weak that I could not 
 stand up, but there was no return of the pain. I was awfully 
 thirsty, and could not drink enough. I must have looked 
 terribly haggard, as the old doctor said that he never saw 
 me look so bad, yet could find no symptoms that I was 
 worse. He seemed very much puzzled that his medicine 
 should work that way. I said but little; in fact, was too 
 weak to talk. After the ordeal I went through in those six 
 
336 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 hours I thought it was a wonder that I was alive. When 
 Tobey came to see me at noon I was a Httle better, but had 
 no appetite, and was as weak as ever. I did not suffer much 
 that day, except with weakness, but the pain had left me 
 and my eyes seemed better, but I was almost entirely blind. 
 
 When Tobey came at night he read the book again to 
 me, and we decided to try the treatment again, the same as 
 the night before. So about nine p.m. I went to bed, hoping 
 that I would not suffer as I had the night before. For a 
 short time, half an hour perhaps, I did not feel much change, 
 then the treating plate began to burn, and I suffered all the 
 horrors of the inquisition, worse, if possible, than the night 
 before. I stood it for an hour or more and went through 
 the same feeling as before taking it off, only I suffered 
 longer, and the effects of the treatment did not wear 
 away as quickly as before ; but I finally got to sleep and I 
 slept to ten o'clock, just as the old doctor came. I covered 
 up the apparatus as best I could, so he should not see any- 
 thing of it. I was so weak that he said he would wait 
 till the afternoon and call again. 
 
 Aside from my weakness, I felt better; at least, my eyes 
 felt better about noon, and I got my magnifying glass and 
 tried to read the directions, but could make out only a few 
 words ; but saw the statement that when certain symptorhs 
 appear you must stop the treatment. I had all these symp- 
 toms, and when Tobey came that night I got him to read 
 them over to me again, and told him that I should not try it 
 again very soon ; in fact, thought the thing would kill me. 
 ''But, d — n it, don't you know the pain has stopped," says 
 Tobey. "Yes," said I, ''but I want to die a little easier than 
 to kill myself with that thing." So we came to the con- 
 clusion to wait for reaction and see what that would do. I 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 337 
 
 went to bed that night without using it and got a very good 
 night's rest, but when I awoke in the morning I was weaker 
 than ever. It was an effort to Hft even a finger. The old 
 doctor said that he could not understand why I was so weak, 
 as there were no other bad symptoms ; in fact, he thought 
 all my other symptoms were better. The smell of any food 
 made me sick. A glass of milk was all that I had taken 
 each day since I began the treatment. Mr. Watson sent 
 up to know how I was, and I told Tobey to see him and tell 
 him that I thought the thing would kill me, notwithstanding 
 the pain had stopped. Mr. Souther came up from Mr. Wat- 
 son's office, and, I think, told them on his return that I would 
 not live many days, as he had never seen me look so bad, 
 and all the people of the neighborhood said that I could not 
 live much longer. But Tobey would not give it up. I told 
 him that if I could only get over the weakness, and get so 
 that I could eat something, I would be all right, as I had 
 not a sign of neuralgia. Day after day it was the same. No 
 pain, and I slept well, but w^as so weak that I could not 
 stand up without holding on to something. A glass of milk 
 a day was all that I could take, and I had no relish for that. 
 
 Tobey came to see me three times a day regularly, and the 
 old doctor came twice to attend to my eyes. About the sixth 
 or seventh day after we quit using the Electropoise I told 
 Tobey that I had to have something to give me strength, 
 and I believed I would have to go back to medicine. *'You 
 are not any Vv^orse, are you?" asked Tobey. "Well, I don't 
 know that I am, only weaker, if anything," said I. ''Stick 
 to it," said Tobey, for you see the pain has gone." "Yes," 
 said I, "but how long have I got to stand this?" 
 
 On the seventh day I thought I felt a little better, and 
 the old doctor declared that I was better, but still I had no 
 
S3S ONE OF^ THE PEOPLE 
 
 appetite, and did not feel any stronger. On the morning 
 of the eighth day, when I woke up I knew that I was better, 
 and when Tobey came I felt stronger, and the doctor said 
 that I was improving, but I did not feel hungry ; yet my milk 
 tasted a little better than usual, and after I took it I felt that 
 I was gaining strength. Between ten and eleven I began 
 to get hungry, and in a little while I was very hungry. I 
 was also gaining strength very fast. I called my clerk, and 
 told him to bring me a good, large potato, build me a fire, 
 get me a loaf of bread, put on the coffee pot, and go to the 
 butcher's and get me thirty-five cents' worth of tenderloin 
 steak. He opened his eyes in astonishment, and gave me 
 a peculiar look, rather suspicious that I was out of my mind. 
 I said to him : ''I am a great deal better, and am terribly 
 hungry. Get those things as soon as you can — I can't wait." 
 He got everything on hand in short order. I made Saratoga 
 chips of a large potato, fried in butter, cooked my steak 
 exactly to suit me, and sat down, as hungry as a wolf, to 
 devour it. The more I ate the hungrier I got, and I kept on 
 until I had eaten up the whole of the food, except about 
 one-quarter or one-half of the bread, and I drank two cups 
 of coffee and a glass of milk. Still I was not satisfied, but 
 thought it best to hold on and not overeat. 
 
 I never gained strength so fast in my life as I did for the 
 next two hours, and when Tobey came in, about one o'clock 
 p.M.^ I was dancing a double shuffle, and feeling better than 
 I had for five years. Tobey held up his hands in perfect 
 astonishment and laughed until he cried. When he came 
 in at night we had a regular jollification meeting all to our- 
 selves, reviewing the whole course of my past suffering. 
 That was the seventy-ninth day since I was taken sick and 
 began to grow blind. 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 339 
 
 That night and the next morning my appetite still held 
 good, and when the doctor came to treat my eyes he was 
 more astonished than anyone, and said that he never saw a 
 man improve so fast in all his life, and that I must keep 
 right on with the medicine, although I had not taken a drop 
 for the last two weeks, thanks to Tobey for keeping me 
 from it, and thanks to the oxygen, for it saved my life, 
 though I had to go through a severe ordeal while it was 
 eradicating the disease. 
 
 At 2 P.M. I boarded a Mission Street car and started to 
 visit Mr. Watson, at his office. After I left the car I had 
 to walk a block to reach his office, and then climb a long 
 flight of stairs. It was a great effort, but I made it, and 
 walked into the office where Mr. Watson, Mr. Souther, and 
 John Mulhern were. Those three men were as much sur- 
 prised at my appearance, and more so, than they would 
 have been had they heard of my death. They could hardly 
 believe their eyes at first. I looked more like a corpse than 
 a live man, as I was very pale, and nothing but skin and 
 bones, but felt very well. I had been confined almost en- 
 tirely to my room for eighty days, and had suffered more 
 than in all my life before, and now I cannot see how I was 
 able to stand it. Thos. A. Burns had been very kind to me 
 in a business way. N. G. Tobey was more than kind all 
 the way through. Mrs. Whitcombe had looked after me 
 every day during my sickness, as well as caring for my wife ; 
 also Mrs. Allen and Miss Thompson. Mr. N. Hunter helped 
 me very much. I mention these people, as they had been 
 especially kind all through my sickness. 
 
 I continued to improve, but was pretty weak, and the 
 partial sight of one eye only was left. I sold my store and 
 stock to my clerk, Humphrey O'Sullivan, and gave him 
 
340 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 possession July i, 1890. I got rooms in Alameda, witli 
 Mr. Gott, the jeweler, and moved over there July 7. Prev- 
 ious to this I had made my will, and willed Mr. M. V. B. 
 Watson everything I had. 
 
 Mr. Watson had secured the agency for the Electropoise, 
 and I at once set about getting my friends who were ailing 
 to try it. They all knew how badly off I had been, and that 
 it had cured me of neuralgia, and many of them commenced 
 using it, under my directions. I was acting as agent for 
 Mr. Watson, and spent all the time I was able in introducing 
 it, and in many cases with the most flattering success. The 
 acute cases I had no trouble with, but the chronic cases did 
 not yield so readily. 
 
 I improved slowly but surely in health, but my sight did 
 not improve very much. I was weak, and did not gain flesh, 
 so I concluded to accept Em Ludden's invitation to make 
 her a visit at her home in Beaumont, Southern California. 
 I sailed from San Francisco on the 20th of August, on 
 the steamer Santa Rosa, for Los Angeles, and stopped at 
 Santa Barbara for a few hours. I arrived at Los Angeles 
 on the 22d, and on the 23d took the train for Beaumont, 
 where I arrived the same evening, and met Em. Nearly 
 thirteen years before I had left her at Grand Island, Neb., 
 when she was on the way to marry W. W. Ludden. I made 
 them a good long visit, and rested most of the time, gaining 
 in strength rapidly but not very much in sight. There was 
 no sign of the neuralgia returning, and I felt that life was 
 worth living again. After a while I took up quarters at the 
 Beaumont Hotel, and applied myself closely in gaining 
 my health, until the fore part of November, when I returned 
 to San Francisco. 
 
 During the time I had been away I had been studying all 
 
IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 34i 
 
 I could and experimenting with the Electropoise on all who 
 were ailing, treating them for nothing. I visited Riverside 
 and San Bernardino, and sold an instrument at each place, 
 also treated one or two at Colton, besides experimenting 
 upon myself to a certain extent. I cured Mrs. Ludden of 
 a trouble she had, and, taking it all in all, I learned a great 
 deal about the effects of oxygen while on this trip. As soon 
 as I arrived in San Francisco I at once went to work for 
 Mr. Watson, with excellent success in acute cases, and very 
 fair on chronic cases, but I was satisfied that I was lame in 
 not knowing just what to do in the latter. This made me 
 eager for more information, and I saw no way to get it un- 
 less I went East and learned from those who knew more 
 about it than I did. 
 
 From the time I went back, till New Years, 1891, I was 
 very busy, and sold, directly and indirectly, a good many 
 instruments and made some remarkable cures. My health 
 was steadily improving in everything but sight, but I was 
 aware that I used my eyes too much. Up to this time I 
 had not made a dollar since I was taken sick, April 3, 1890, 
 but the Electropoise had saved my life. I had lost my wife, 
 was almost blind, and had spent a great portion of the money 
 I had saved, but I always look upon the bright side of life, 
 and always kept cheerful, which was natural. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CLOSING EVENTS. 
 
 On New Year's Day Mr. Watson said to me : ''Well, Mr. 
 Porter, I guess we will settle up to date and make arrange- 
 ments for the future." ''All right," said I, "how much do 
 I owe you, Mr. Watson?" He had been furnishing me 
 money to pay expenses, car fare, etc., telling me not to 
 spend my money but to call on him when I had used up 
 what he had given me. I had done so, and felt that I was 
 doing well and improving in health without any expense. 
 When I asked him how much I owed him he laughed heart- 
 ily, and said that, according to his books, he was owing me, 
 as he had allowed me ninety dollars a month ever since I 
 had been well enough to advance his interests in the Elec- 
 tropoise. His answer was a great surprise to me, and I 
 told him, "No, that is too much," but he would have it no 
 other way, which was characteristic of the man, and he 
 paid me a good round sum for my poor services, and I 
 thanked him most heartily. 
 
 The world was brighter to me, and Mr. Watson seemed 
 more pleased than I. Then he offered me a stipulated sum 
 per month, and wished me to keep right on doing what I 
 could, but to take good care of myself, not to overdo or 
 work too hard, and I accepted his proposition. I told him 
 that I wished to avail myself of the experience of the par* 
 
 342 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 343 
 
 ties in the East who had had so much more experience with 
 the instrument, and to visit all the different offices in the 
 East then established. He said that the idea was all right, 
 but he did not like to spare me ; however, he agreed to the 
 proposition, the matter was settled, and I was to start the 
 first of May. I went to work with much enthusiasm, and 
 a determination to make a success with the Electropoise. I 
 studied hard, all that my eyes would bear, and worked hard 
 to succeed, and my efforts were not in vain. Before the 
 first of May I had made some remarkable cures and mcreased 
 the sales very much, and I almost wished that I had not 
 made arrangements to go East, but it was too late to back 
 
 out now. J 
 
 I concluded to go to New Orleans for my first stop and 
 visit the parties that were running the Electropoise there, 
 get all the information I could, and then go on to Charles- 
 ton, S. C, where the next office was established. I had a 
 great desire to go to Charleston to see the effects of the 
 earthquake and look over the ground where I had marched 
 up the main street, with hundreds of others, gnawmg the 
 raw beef from a bone as we marched to take the cars for 
 Columbia, S. C, in 1864. 
 
 On the sixth of May, 1891, I left for Los Angeles and 
 made my friend H. W. Stoll a short visit. I laid m a few 
 needed supplies, went to Beaumont, made a short visit to 
 the Ludden's, then went to Colton and bought a ticket to 
 New Orleans, via Kansas City, on the Santa Fe, and thence 
 to Memphis, Tenn., and down the river by rail, through the 
 cities of Vicksburg and Baton Rouge, to New Orleans. As 
 I had never been over that section of the country I chose 
 
 this route. . 
 
 I left Colton on the thirteenth of May. I bought a tourist 
 
344 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 car ticket and laid in a plentiful supply of provisions and 
 fruit to last me a week. On the train I found a number 
 of congenial companions, and we had a royal time all the 
 way to Kansas City, notwithstanding we were delayed by 
 a wrecked bridge near Las Vegas, N. M., and had to walk 
 a mile or two, losing ten hours' time. I stayed in Kansas 
 City over night, and the next day took the Fort Scott train 
 to Memphis, passing very near where I used to reside in 
 Kansas before- I went to the war. We went through the 
 Marie des Cygne swamps, where I used to hunt bees in 
 1858-59. From there on the country was new to me. I 
 found southwestern Missouri a fine country of rolling prai- 
 rie, full of hogs and mules — black hogs, all of them. Before 
 night we were in Arkansas, where the country was more 
 sparsely settled. Our train had no sleeping accommodations, 
 and I got but little rest. We crossed the Mississippi River 
 a short time after sunrise and landed in the city of Memphis, 
 Tenn. I found that our train did not leave until 2 p.m. We 
 ran so near the river that I saw but little good country, 
 though the land was rich. That night we got into Vicksburg 
 just before dark, and till after midnight had to wait for 
 another train. I was sorry I was not able to see more of 
 that historical town and look over the old fortifications, 
 where our boys had won their great victory over Pemberton 
 on that memorable Fourth of July when we were busy chas- 
 ing Lee from Gettysburg. 
 
 We left Vicksburg before morning, and passed through 
 Baton Rouge a short time after sunrise, reaching New 
 Orleans at 10 or 11 a.m. Some little incidents of the trip 
 were quite amusing to me, one of which I will relate. 
 
 I had been in the habit of wearing a G. A. R. button in the 
 lapel of my coat, On the train, all the way from Memphis, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 345 
 
 I noticed that when parties came on board the train, espe- 
 cially women, they would glance at the button and pass on. 
 Several started to sit down by me, but as soon as they got 
 sight of that button they moved on. From Baton Rouge 
 the cars were crowded. A well-dressed elderly man came 
 in and took a seat by me, and I tried my best to engage him 
 in conversation, but he would answer me only in monosyl- 
 lables, each time glancing at my button. After riding half 
 an hour or so he seemed to have reached his destination, and 
 left the train. I took the button off, and soon a man, about 
 the age of the previous one, took a seat beside me, and I had 
 a very pleasant talk with him all the way to the city. I 
 was satisfied that a man who wore a G. A. R. button in the 
 South would not receive the same courtesy and attention 
 as he would if he kept the button in his pocket. 
 
 I visited the office of the Electropoise Company of New 
 Orleans, and found a very intelligent lady in charge, from 
 whom I gained a great deal of information, and saw the 
 first instrument of the kind ever used on a human being. 
 After learning that a cousin of mine, whom I intended vis- 
 iting, lived a good many miles up the river, on the west 
 side, and that I could hardly get up there and back in a 
 week, I concluded to continue my journey without going 
 to see her. 
 
 An account of the trip from New Orleans to Washington, 
 D. C, which I sent to the Alameda Argus will be better here 
 than to rely upon my memory: 
 
 Washington, D. C, May 31, 1891. 
 I think, Mr. Argus, that my last letter closed with my 
 arrival at New Orleans, a city that I had not visited before. 
 The business portion of the Qity >§ very poorly paved, and 
 
346 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 very dirty, with narrow streets. It seemed to me to be 
 rather sleepy and dull, though there was considerable busi- 
 ness going on. It does not seem to be growing or improving 
 very much, having no cable or electric roads — nothing but 
 horsecar lines. Canal Street is the business street of the 
 town. The post office and custom house are large and com- 
 modious, built of granite, after the same architectural plan 
 as the old public buildings in Washington. During my 
 wanderings about the town I saw a monument to Andrew 
 Jackson and one to Henry Clay, and one, the largest of all, 
 to R. E. Lee. 
 
 While riding by the Lee monument I asked a fellow pas- 
 senger if I had been rightly informed that it was contem- 
 plated by the people of New Orleans to erect a monument 
 to Benjamin Butler. He answered : "Naw ! Butler be 
 damned !" To fill out the quartette they certainly should 
 erect one in memory of Ben. 
 
 Not being particularly delighted with the city I made a 
 short stay, and .took the L. & N. R. R. for Charleston, via 
 Mobile, Pensacola, and Savannah. My sight being dim, I 
 stayed but a short time in either place, therefore I will pass 
 them by without remark, though both were important points 
 from a war-time standpoint. I arrived in Charleston about 
 noon on the twenty-second day of May, and registered at 
 the Charleston House. 
 
 This was my third appearance in the city. On a former 
 visit, twenty-six years ago last December, I put up at the 
 Hotel de Jail, as the guest of the Southern Confederacy. A 
 few months previous I put up at the workhouse, since de- 
 stroyed by the great earthquake of 1886. On my first ap- 
 'pearance I was a part and parcel of a delegation of five 
 hundred persons who were compelled to accept an invita- 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 347 
 
 tion to be shot at every five minutes, night and day, for two 
 months, by Uncle Samuel's batteries located on Morris 
 Island, five miles away. At that time, August, 1864, grass 
 was growing in the middle of the streets, between the cobble- 
 stones, yellow fever tainted the air, and everything seemed 
 on the down grade, except the fat, sleek grayback. All of 
 the inhabitants of the lower part of the city had departed, 
 and a more lonesome, dilapidated wilderness of buildings and 
 ruins was seldom, if ever, presented to the eyes of man. Not 
 many hours had passed after my arrival before I had wended 
 my way to the scenes and location of my former abode. 
 The workhouse, the jail, and marine hospital are all on the 
 north and west side of a single square. As remarked above, 
 the workhouse was gone, but the jail and the marine hos- 
 pital were there, but unoccupied. Standing in the street 
 and gazing upon the old buildings, my mind wandered back 
 to the scenes of over a quarter of a century ago, while tears 
 started, which I could not repress, as memory carried me 
 back among those brave and noble men who so gallantly 
 laid down their lives to uphold the flag of the Union and 
 scorned the idea of deserting it, though tempted in every 
 conceivable way by our captors. The soft breezes seemed 
 to moan through the old, deserted buildings, singing sad 
 requiems to the dead past. Almost chained to the spot, 
 living over again the never-to-be-forgotten scenes known 
 only to those who passed through them, my sad reverie 
 was broken by a small darkey crying out 'Tee cream !" and 
 pushing a small cart on which was an ice cream freezer, 
 with a small flag stuck in the head of it bearing the Stars 
 and Stripes. That emblem at that especial moment never 
 looked better to me but once before, and that was on reach- 
 ing our lines after I escaped from the rebel prison. To see 
 
348 ONE OF. THE PEOPLE 
 
 it here in this cradle of the RebelHon speaks louder than 
 words that my comrades died not in vain. In a sad and 
 thoughtful mood I left the scene of my former misery, per- 
 haps forever. 
 
 The next morning I was up bright and early, and with 
 a companion, who had a good glass, took a stroll down to 
 the famous Battery, and on our way saw the Stars and 
 Stripes floating gracefully over the custom house. 
 
 Arriving at the Battery, the most popular promenade of 
 all classes of Charleston people, we leveled our glass across 
 the bay, which brought to view Fort Moultrie, the ruins of 
 Fort Sumpter, Morris Island, James Island, Folly Island, 
 all historical points of interest, where lie the remains of many 
 a brave comrade who died that the Union might live. We 
 left the Battery and turned up King street, the same that I 
 once marched up gnawing a piece of raw beef off a bone, 
 and thought it was the sweetest morsel I had ever tasted. 
 There were five hundred of us, and we were all going 
 through the same tactics, paying but slight attention to any- 
 thing else except getting on the outside of raw beef. In 
 passing a station between Savannah and Charleston, marked 
 Ridgeville, I at once recognized the place where I passed 
 through a brigade or division of rebel soldiers when escapr 
 ing, though at that time it was called Grahamsville Station. 
 This shows how indelibly those scenes were impressed upon 
 my memory. Between Charleston and Florence I passed 
 another familiar place, near the Pocolalego River, where 
 our train ran the gauntlet at its utmost speed for over a 
 mile to escape the shells of the United States gunboats. A 
 shell struck in the center of the track, not more than twenty- 
 five feet from the rear car of our train. Several bullets 
 struck the engine, but withpilt doing any damage. 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 349 
 
 Charleston seems to be a kind of dead-and-alive place, but 
 was much cleaner than New Orleans, and has nearly recov- 
 ered from the terrible earthquake of 1886. There were 
 nearly one hundred killed and wounded at that time. Sixty- 
 three, we were informed, were killed instantly, and many 
 died from their wounds. I was also told that out of over 
 fourteen thousand chimneys examined by the insurance men, 
 only a hundred were found to be sound. Many buildmgs, 
 mostly brick, were completely shaken down. 
 
 We passed Florence and Wilmington, N. C, during the 
 night, and by davlight we went over the battle fields near 
 Petersburg and Richmond, and so on to Alexandria and 
 Washington. 
 
 I had telegraphed to M. M. Whitney when I would arrive 
 in Washington, and he met me at the train, and had every- 
 thing arranged for my comfort. I arrived May 24, 1891, and 
 the city looked its best at the time, with plenty of flowers 
 and shrubberv. The city had improved very much since I 
 saw it last, in 1873. Many globe-trotters declare it to be 
 next to, if not equal to, Paris in point of beauty. It certamly 
 is the finest city I ever saw, taking everything into consid- 
 eration. I met a good many of the old boys of my regi- 
 ment and a good many of other regiments, with whom I 
 was acquainted, and had a royal time with them. My main 
 business was to visit the Electropoise offices and gam all 
 the information I could about using the instruments, the 
 eft'ects of oxygen, etc. 
 
 I found a good operator at New Orleans, from whom i 
 learned a good many points. At Charleston I found a Miss 
 Howard in charge of the office, and although I got some 
 information from her, she was not so well posted as Miss 
 
350 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Kimball. John N. Webb, the president of the company, had 
 his headquarters in Washington, and I spent a good deal 
 of my time in his office, gaining some valuable information 
 from him. He was with Sanche, the inventor, for nearly 
 two years, and at that time was doubtless the best informed 
 man regarding the action of the poise in the United States. 
 I spent considerable time in looking over the Anatomical 
 Museum, the National Museum, the Piscicultural Depart- 
 ment, and ponds, the Agricultural Department, and several 
 other attractions that had been added to the sights of Wash- 
 ington since I was there before, including the Washington 
 Monument. 
 
 On the 1 2th of June 1 went to Baltimore to see some of 
 my old friends. The time of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad 
 had been reduced to forty-five minutes between the two cit- 
 ies, the distance being forty miles. That was the fastest, 
 smoothest ride I ever had on a passenger train up to that 
 time, but have ridden faster since then. 
 
 When I arrived at Baltimore I found John Wagner and 
 his brother still running the Green House Restaurant. I 
 visited my old employee, John Buckley, and John Murray, 
 who had become wealthy. My old friend, Mr. V. J. Brown, 
 from whom I used to purchase large quantities of sugar, 
 also gave me a warm welcome, and insisted that I should 
 come and dine with him at his house. Murray took a great 
 deal of pains to entertain me, and with his horse and buggy 
 took me all over the city, and spent a whole day in showing 
 me how much the city had improved since I left. The city 
 had grown to over half a million inhabitants. I also met a 
 good many other old friends, and enjoyed my visit very 
 much. Instead of a couple of days' visit, as I had intended, 
 I remained five days before going back to Washington. On 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 3St 
 
 my return to the latter place I visited my old friend, A. O. 
 Bliss, and family, at his suburban residence a few miles 
 north of the city. Comrade Bliss had made a fortune since 
 the war, and seemed to know how to enjoy it. I remained in 
 Washington until June 28th, when I went to Philadelphia, 
 Pa., for the express purpose of seeing my old comrades of 
 the Tenth Cavalry, and Noble D. Preston in particular, and 
 spent a week with him and his wife and daughter. I also 
 saw the old comrade who escaped from prison with me, who 
 belonged to the One Hundred and Forty-second Pennsyl- 
 vania Regiment. I celebrated the Fourth of July with Pres- 
 ton and his family, and heard the old Liberty Bell rung at 
 Independence Hall. We visited Fairmount Park and many 
 other places of interest to me. From Philadelphia we went 
 to New York, and met Captain George Vanderbilt, Lieut. 
 H. E. Hayes, and others, with whom I had a splendid visit, 
 as well as with friends in the surrounding towns. I also 
 went to Oakland to my old home, "The Crystal Spring Fish 
 Farm," and found many of my old neighbors, with whom 
 I enjoyed myself a day or two and then returned to New 
 York. 
 
 The greatest change to me in the appearance of New York 
 was that so many foreigners crowded the streets, especially 
 Portuguese and Italians. One day, while walking along 
 Broadway with a friend, he said to me: "Captain, what 
 is the greatest change you see in New York since you left ?" 
 •'Hold on a minute," said I. "Stand right here on this corner 
 for a moment with me, and I will show you. Now watch 
 the crowd, and see how many Americans pass in two min- 
 utes." We did so. "How many?" said I. "Oh, about a 
 quarter of them," said he. "Well," said I, "that is the great- 
 est change. Foreigners are thicker than bees, compared 
 
352 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 to what they were when I left." "Well, I think you are 
 right, come to think of it, but I had never given it a thought 
 before." "Of course not," said I, "being here all the while, 
 you did not notice it, but I do ; and unless this immigration 
 is checked, how long will it be before an American will be 
 a rarity on the streets ?" All the cities on the Atlantic coast 
 were the same, except Washington. 
 
 After several days in New York I took the D. L. & W. 
 R. R. for Cortland, N. Y., and arrived there July 2ist, at 
 about 4 P.M. When I stepped off the cars I was most cor- 
 dially greeted by Comrade Mark Brownell and my old school- 
 mate Henry T. Newell, each declaring that I must go to his 
 house first; but as I had already made arrangements with 
 Newell by letter, I went with him, and made my home with 
 him while there, being charmingly entertained. Cortland 
 seemed more like home to me than any other place, and 
 being pretty well worn out, I determined to rest and recu- 
 perate ; but, alas ! there was no rest. I found that almost 
 everybody from the surrounding country had moved into 
 Cortland to live, and it was easy to find almost anyone I 
 wished to see. 
 
 My old comrade Brownell got up a unique reception for 
 me a few days after my arrival. He made me promise that 
 I would be at his house on a certain day and hour without 
 fail. When the time came I went as requested, and, to my 
 surprise, found every old soldier for ten miles around that 
 had belonged to the Tenth Cavalry, awaiting my arrival. 
 It was a joyous meeting, and many a tear glistened in the 
 eyes of the old boys with whom I had fought in a score of 
 battles. None but the old soldier can fully realize one's 
 feelings at such a time and on such an occasion, after years 
 of separation. Most of them I had not seen since the war, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 353 
 
 and none of them had I met for fifteen years. We had a 
 royal time, and our pleasure was enhanced by Mrs. Brow- 
 nell and her daughter and the wives of many of the old boys. 
 That meeting was worth the trip across the continent to 
 enjoy. I visited many of them at their homes during my 
 stay in Cortland, and was more than welcome. God bless 
 them all ! To meet and greet them was one of the bright, 
 sunny spots along my life's pathway. 
 
 The National Encampment of the G. A. R. met in August, 
 and Comrade Brownell and I, with Captain Pierce, of the 
 Seventy-sixth or One Hundred and Fifty-seventh Regiment 
 of Infantry, went to Detroit, Mich., to attend it. On our way 
 we stayed over Sunday at Buffalo and enjoyed the hospi- 
 tality of Comrade Bull at his beautiful home in the city. We 
 met several of our boys that reside in that city. From thence 
 we went to Detroit with one of Buffalo's G. A. R. posts in 
 a special train, and during the encampment week met a 
 great many of our regiment and had an impromptu reunion 
 for several hours, fighting our battles over again. Scarcely 
 any of the boys had I ever met since the war. To say that 
 we enjoyed it is putting it very mild. Comrade Bliss, who 
 was later governor of the State of Michigan, was with us, 
 also his brother, Doctor Bliss, the surgeon of our regiment ; 
 also Judge Reynolds, of Michigan, and many others of the 
 old Tenth. 
 
 On my return I was accompanied by Fred Mather, an old 
 comrade who was in prison with me, and was also a brother 
 member of the Fish Culturists' Association. I left Fred 
 at Binghamton, N. Y., and went back to Cortland. From 
 there I went to Taylor, Cincinnatus, and the surrounding 
 towns, where I had many a good visit with old friends and 
 neighbors of long ago. My health kept very good and I 
 
354 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 enjoyed myself immensely. During my visits I found some 
 of my friends afflicted with some acute disease. I applied 
 the Electropoise, which almost invariably helped them. 
 
 At Willet I visited with my old friend W. Bourne, who 
 belonged to the Seventy-sixth Regiment, and with him went 
 to a reunion of his regiment at Truxton, N. Y., which I 
 enjoyed, except my eyes troubled me very much. I went 
 back to Cortland and took the cars for Norwich, N. Y., to 
 see my wife's folks, and from thence to Oxford, N. Y., to 
 see my dear old uncle Milo Porter and his family. He was 
 over eighty years old, but was quite vigorous for a man 
 of his age. I also met a number of the boys of my regiment 
 there, who belonged to Company K, consequently had a good 
 time. I had promised Captain Getman, of Company I, to 
 make him a visit, so I left Oxford for Fulton County, where 
 the captain lived, and arrived at Gloversville the same day, 
 meeting the captain there. It will be remembered that the 
 captain escaped with me from the Southern prison, and we 
 both reached Sherman's army together ; for that reason I 
 was anxious to meet him again. The captain gave me a 
 royal reception, and we went to his home in Mayfield, where 
 I sojourned five days. His good wife did everything she 
 could to make my visit enjoyable and the captain spent his 
 whole time in entertaining me. We went to Saratoga and 
 spent one night there. The next day we went to the Grant 
 cottage on Mt. McGregor, and went over the house, where 
 everything had been left exactly as it was when General 
 Grant died. From the top of the hotel at Mt. McGregor you 
 can look into three States, Vermont, Massachusetts, and New 
 York. The little engine that took us up the mountains, the 
 railroad it ran on, the scenery, and the cottage and its sur- 
 roundings were all very interesting to me, especially the cot- 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 35S 
 
 tage, with its fixtures, where the old hero of Appomattox 
 spent his last hours. 
 
 We returned to Mayfield, and the next day the captain 
 took me off on a long ride through the country. We called 
 on an old man over one hundred years old who still retained 
 all his faculties. The captain had known him for years. 
 He introduced me, and we had several minutes' conversation 
 with him. His sight and hearing were good, and he told 
 me he enjoyed very good health. He seemed to be not over 
 seventy years old. I shook hands with him when we left 
 and wished him a long life and a happy one. He seemed to 
 appreciate the joke, and, with a laugh, asked us to call again. 
 Soon after, we called on his son, a youth of some seventy 
 summers, who was not nearly as well preserved as his father, 
 and who complained bitterly of rheumatism. He was the 
 oldest man of the two according to appearances. 
 
 The next day we visited Johnstown and Gloversville, and 
 called upon some of the old boys of Company I, Tenth 
 Cavalry. The day after, I left for New York, via Albany, 
 concluding to take the night boat. 
 
 The boat did not leave for two or three hours, and I 
 hardly knew what to do with myself. Taking a seat in the 
 office of the steamboat company, I happened to see a direc- 
 tory lying on the counter. I picked it up and looked up 
 the address of my step-sister's daughter. I had no idea of 
 finding it, but I did, and at once inquired the way to her 
 house, how far it was, and how to reach it. I was informed 
 that it was not far and that the street car that passed the 
 office would take me within a block of her number. I at 
 once took the car, and in ten minutes was pulling the bell 
 at her house. Someone came bounding down the stairs and 
 opened the door, and Ella stood before me. Although I 
 
35^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 had not seen her for twenty-five years, I knew it was hef, 
 and would have known her anywhere. Our greeting was 
 very cordial, and we were both happy to meet again. I 
 asked for her mother, but she was in New York, or at her 
 son's house in New Durham, N. J. I visited with Ella up 
 to the time I had to leave for the boat, and it seemed more 
 like home than any place I had been since I came East. I 
 promised to come back, via Albany, and make her another 
 visit before I went back to Cortland, after my visit to New 
 York. 
 
 While in New York I visited Lieut. H. E. Hayes and fam- 
 ily in Brooklyn, also Captain George Vanderbilt, both of 
 my regiment. I also went over to see Fred Holland, and 
 his mother, my step-sister, whom I had not seen for nearly 
 twenty-five years. I found her at her son's house. She did 
 not know me at first, but soon recognized my voice, and 
 I had a delightful visit with her. Fred and his wife were 
 both away from home, but returned at night. I spent a very 
 enjoyable day. 
 
 The next day I went to New York, and the morning after 
 took the day boat for Albany to make Ella my promised 
 visit. She stayed at home a couple of days in order to enter- 
 tain me, before she went to New York for her mother, who 
 was living with her. Ella took me all over the old city. We 
 visited the Capitol Building, and I saw there our old regi- 
 mental flag in the archives of the State. What memories 
 that old flag, under whose folds I saw so many hard-fought 
 battles, brought back! I .could not help but drop a tear 
 for the noble boys who gave up their lives while fighting 
 in its defence. After a couple of days with Ella she took a 
 train for New York, and I went to Cortland to finish my visit 
 there and attend a reunion of our regiment at Elmira, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 357 
 
 It was now October, and the dull, cloudy days iDegan fo 
 make me wish for California's bright sunshine ; besides, I 
 was annoyed by a succession of boils on my neck, head, and 
 hands, until I had nine in full operation all at the same time, 
 which were very painful, and made me feel almost sick. I 
 was cared for by Mrs. Brownell with a great deal of skill 
 and patience, and I managed to worry along until the re- 
 union, where, notwithstanding my misery, I enjoyed myself 
 very much, returning to the town of Cortland somewhat 
 improved. Because of this annoyance I had to cut my visits 
 to many of my friends rather short, and left for Albany, 
 where I could feel at home with Ella and her mother, until 
 my recovery, when I intended to return to my old home in 
 San Francisco. 
 
 During my stay at Albany I took pains to inquire into the 
 way Ella and her mother were managing to keep the wolf 
 from the door, and found that Ella was working herself 
 almost to death to keep going, pay rent, furnish coal, wood, 
 etc., with nothing to look forward to, and I felt that I would 
 like to do something for her and her mother to help them 
 along. Ella was always my favorite when a child, and her 
 mother was like a sister to me; therefore, I concluded that 
 if Ella was willing I would marry her and take them both 
 to California with me. So one morning, while we were at 
 breakfast, I broached the subject to both, giving them a few 
 days to decide. They did not seem very much surprised, 
 although the mother had known nothing of my intentions 
 before that; but T had talked the matter over very seriously 
 with Ella before, and she had already promised to marry 
 me. Her mother finally told me she could hardly think of 
 going to California and leave all her children, although Ella 
 was her favorite daughter and she would rather liv^ with 
 
•35B ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 her than any other member of her family. She had three 
 sons and two daughters, all married but Ella. It was finally 
 decided that Ella could not leave until the spring of 1892, 
 when her mother would go to live with her other daughter, 
 who was anxious that she should do so. So all matters were 
 settled, and I was to come or send for Ella the next spring. 
 
 Having fully recovered my health, I soon left for the 
 Pacific Coast, via Chicago, thence to St. Paul, over the Cana- 
 dian Pacific to Puget Sound, then direct by rail to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 From Chicago I went to Marengo, 111., to visit my Aunt 
 Harriet Howe. She lived with her son, E. E. Howe, and 
 his family. He was a widower. My aunt was getting very 
 old, being nearly ninety years of age, but was quite smart, 
 retaining all her faculties to a remarkable degree. My visit 
 gave me much pleasure, as I had not seen my aunt since 
 the war. When I was a small boy she was like a mother to 
 me. Her son was a noble man, and his eldest daughter was 
 a beautiful and charming girl of twenty years of age. Mr. 
 Howe told me that he was engaged to a young woman who 
 was then living in Oregon, and he would like very much 
 to have her return with me the next spring when I came 
 East after Ella. I told him to fix up the matter with her, 
 and, if agreeable, I would come back by the way of Port- 
 land, where she could meet me, and I would see her safely 
 through to her destination. 
 
 I went back to Chicago, from there to St. Paul, where I 
 had to w^ait for two days for my train, with the thermome- 
 ter at zero. When we reached Winnipeg it was still at zero, 
 and the morning we arrived at Medicine Hat, on the Sas- 
 catchewan River, it was twenty-seven degrees below; but 
 the morning we reached the Rocky Mountains the weather 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 359 
 
 had moderated, and at noon it began to snow. At the first 
 station after we reached the Rockies I looked north, and saw 
 w^hat is called Cathedral Rock. The treeless plain seemed to 
 run right up level to the foot of the mountains, which rose 
 almost perpendicularly. This puzzled me, as I had never 
 seen the foot of a mountain like that. I determined to visit 
 it and learn why it was so. The conductor informed me 
 that I would have time to go out and back if I would 
 be quick about it. As no one of my fellow passengers seemed 
 interested in the matter, I went alone. On reaching the 
 spot, I found the whole mountain was one vast flint rock, 
 without a particle of debris at its foot, forming almost a 
 right angle with the plain. The elements seemed to have 
 had no effect on the mountain whatever. To me it was a 
 very peculiar formation, and I do not remember having read 
 of anything like it before. The run from the plain on the 
 east of the Rockies to the banks of the Columbia was made 
 in about twelve hours. About three hours of the time it 
 was snowing, which shut out bits of scenery that I was told 
 were very fine. We passed a long, narrow swamp, some of 
 the water of which, I was informed, ran eastwardly into the 
 Atlantic, and some westwardly into the Pacific. In going 
 down the west side we passed a glacier three hundred feet 
 thick and five hundred feet above the road. Soon after, we 
 came to the Glacier House, which is near an immense glacier 
 five hundred feet thick at its lower end and is miles long and 
 wide. This is quite a popular resort, and several of our pas- 
 sengers stopped over one train to visit the glacier. 
 
 From here to the Columbia River we had but little chance 
 to admire the scenery, as it snowed all the way. Before 
 crossing the Columbia we stopped for lunch. I regretted 
 
36o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 that we must pass through the Selkirk Mountains, as well 
 as the second crossing of the Columbia, in the night, but 
 was informed that we would not reach the Frazer River 
 before three or four o'clock next morning, and would pass 
 most of the way down the river by daylight. It would be 
 moonlight, however, and, if awake, 1 could enjoy some re- 
 markable scenery by moonlight. I turned in early, making 
 up my mind to wake up at 2 a.m. and see all I could. I was 
 wide awake at the right time just as we struck the Frazer 
 River, and my berth being on the right side for observation, 
 I did not have to get up. The moon shone very brightly in 
 that clear atmosphere, it was almost as light as day, and I 
 had a splendid view from my window. As soon as it was 
 daylight I was up, and rode on the platform all the way 
 through the Frazer River Canyon. Some of the time we 
 were five hundred feet or more above the river, on a shelf 
 cut in the perpendicular side of the mountain. It was cer- 
 tainly the most entrancing and exciting ride I ever had on 
 a railroad, the scenery being the wildest and the most unique 
 I had ever beheld. Words cannot do justice to it ; it must 
 be seen to be appreciated. To build a railroad in the side 
 of a perpendicular mountain, above a chasm five hundred 
 feet deep, filled with a roaring, foaming, whirling, splashing 
 body of water of immense volume, that fairly shakes the 
 solid rock, is what I call the climax of engineering skill. I 
 shall never forget that ride down the Frazer River, and 
 would like very much to go over it again. I remember in 
 the fifties talking to a man who had returned from the 
 Frazer River country during the gold excitement, who told 
 me about his experience in that place. "Why," he said, 
 "you can't go from one bar to another on foot, or in a boat, 
 or any other way, except by balloon f and I now think, since 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 361 
 
 I have seen it, he must have been right, for I never saw such 
 a dangerous stream to navigate, either up or down. 
 
 At noon that day we reached the town of Whatcom, on 
 Puget Sound, and went on board the steamer, where we 
 learned that she would reach Tacoma the next morning, 
 after making the circuit of the Sound, first to Seattle, and 
 from there to Tacoma, to connect with the train for Port- 
 land, Oregon. At night I went to my state-room for a good 
 sleep, as I had been all over the Sound in previous years 
 and cared nothing for the sights to be seen. Our boat lay 
 at the wharf the next morning when I awakened, to take 
 the train for Portland. Nothing of moment occurred on 
 the way to Portland, at which place I spent more than half 
 the day, leaving at ten p.m. for San Francisco. As I had 
 been over the road before, the scenery did not interest me 
 very much until we reached the Siskiyou Mountains, which 
 are always interesting, no matter how many times you have 
 seen them. Old Shasta Butte I never tire of, for I think it 
 one of the grandest mountains on the Pacific Coast. When 
 we got a glimpse of it, it seemed to me like looking upon 
 an old comrade. 
 
 Without mishap we reached the bay of San Francisco 
 on the morning of November 22, 1891, having been gone 
 six months and sixteen days. It had been one of the most 
 enjoyable trips of my life, and I returned in better health 
 than I had enjoyed for thirty years, notwithstanding I was 
 nearly sixty years of age. My main object in visiting the 
 East had been to learn more about the use of the Electro- 
 poise and the effects of oxygen on the human system, as 
 I had determined to make it a business to help others as I 
 had been helped, having been, as it were, snatched from the 
 ^rave by its use. I visited all the offices established at that 
 
Z(i2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 time in the Eastern States, except Nashville, Tenn., and 
 one or two others in the South. When I reached Chicago 
 I found Miss Howard in charge, whom I had met in Charles- 
 ton, S. C, where she had charge of the office at the time 
 I was there. 
 
 On my return to San Francisco I at once commenced to 
 study causes and symptoms of all diseases, using the electro- 
 poise as my treatment. My success was quite remarkable, 
 and I soon found that all acute diseases, no matter of what 
 nature, were readily cured; but chronic diseases were not 
 so easily dealt with, and it was hard work to keep the pa- 
 tients from going back to medicine. When the oxygen 
 began to work strongly on the disease they would get dis- 
 couraged and want to try something else, but those that 
 stuck to it came out all right and became enthusiastic, like 
 myself. The more I used it the more convinced I became 
 that oxygen was the best, the safest, and surest cure for 
 disease ever discovered, and after using it for over thirteen 
 years my confidence in it is unbounded. I have cured thou- 
 sands, and it frequently astonishes me to see the remarkable 
 effects I have produced by its use, when properly applied. 
 
 There are many things to be taken into consideration 
 when using oxygen to get the best results, as it is sensitive 
 to the least interference by drugs or alcoholics, changes of 
 atmosphere, bathing, or eating, condition of patient, disobe- 
 dience of the laws of nature, etc., etc. It is more scientific 
 than any other mode of treatment, and yet you cannot use 
 the treatment without benefit, even in the most careless man- 
 ner. There are so many very important facts brought out 
 and demonstrated which cannot be done with anything else 
 known, that it astonishes the medical fraternity, and they 
 know not what to say or think. 
 
CLOSING EVENTS J363 
 
 Physicians who love their patients better than the almighty 
 dollar and themselves, drop medication and use the oxygen 
 treatment. Many of the doctors have an Electropoise of 
 their own, and use it themselves in secret and denounce it 
 to their patients. Cold facts will eventually win, and the 
 time will come, no doubt, when the medical fraternity will 
 adopt this treatment as their own. Old Doctor Beckwith, 
 of New York, is trying hard, and has been for years, to 
 make medicine and oxygen work together, for the benefit 
 of the medical fraternity, but oxygen and poisons will not 
 harmonize, and never will. 
 
 I worked hard through the winter of 1891-92, studying 
 nights, and attending patients during the day, and perhaps 
 used my eyes too much, but was in splendid health other- 
 wise. That was the first winter of la grippe visitation on 
 this coast, and many died. I had eleven cases that I treated, 
 and brought them all out in fine shape, with no after effects. 
 In fact, I never failed to cure the grip in a single instance 
 for thirteen years. Can any medical physician say the same 
 who has had any practice at all ? I think not. 
 
 I got ready to go East after Ella, and set the time to 
 start for the second of April, 1892. I had corresponded 
 with Miss Bennet, who was to meet me at Portland, Oregon. 
 On the second of April I left San Francisco for the East, 
 via Portland. I found my lady companion on hand when 
 I reached the latter city, and that night took the train, via 
 the Northern Pacific, for St. Paul, where she was to take 
 another train for her destination in Iowa. We had a de- 
 lightful trip, and both of us had laid in an extra amount of 
 provisions, not knowing what each other had done, so that 
 when we came to open our lunch baskets for the first meal 
 we had enough for four people instead of two. I selected 
 
364 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 mine from a man's standpoint, and she from a woman's — ■ 
 therefore we had a splendid layout. What one had not 
 thought of, the other had. On our arrival at St. Paul we 
 had enough to last a week longer. The people in our car 
 were so agreeable and mirth-loving that the time did 
 not drag at all, the trip terminating all too quickly. The 
 scenery on the Northern Pacific cannot be compared with 
 that of the Canadian Pacific, in my estimation, nor is it as 
 good as on the Central Pacific or the Santa Fe. 
 
 On my arrival in Chicago the weather was very cold, and 
 we had more or less of snow squalls all the way to Albany, 
 where I arrived on the tenth of April, 1892, and found Ella 
 all right. After disposing of her household goods, and send- 
 ing her mother to Truxton, N. Y., to live with her daughter 
 Frances, we went down to New Durham, N. J., where her 
 brother, Fred Holland, lived, and on the 24th of April, at 
 the episcopal parsonage, at Union Hill, N. J., were mar- 
 ried. 
 
 On the 25th of April we left for Chicago, 111., and made 
 my Aunt Harriet Howe and her son, E. E. Howe, and fam- 
 ily, a visit for a week. Leaving Marengo, we went to Chi- 
 cago, where we took the Santa Fe for Los Angeles, Cal., 
 arriving there May 8th. We stopped over one day, then 
 left for San Francisco, where we arrived on the loth of 
 May, staying at the Park Hotel in Alameda until we could 
 find a suitable place in San Francisco. 
 
 I immediately went to work for Mr. Watson, with the 
 Electropoise, having been gone between five and six weeks. 
 My health was fine, but my eyes troubled me considerably. 
 The rest and trip did not seem to improve them much. 
 
 Times seemed dull, and it being the year of the Presiden- 
 tial election, whigh always aflfects business more or less, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 365 
 
 everything seemed to be at a standstill. Through taking cold, 
 my eyes became inflamed, and I had to be shut up in a dark 
 room for five weeks, which was a terrible ordeal to me, 
 though my general health was of the best, and I was gaining 
 a pound of flesh each week. I had to hold up my studies 
 for some time, for it looked very much as though I would 
 become blind altogether. After consultation with Mr. Wat- 
 son, I came to the conclusion that I would have to change 
 my business and stop using my eyes. Therefore I quit 
 work on the ist of February, 1893. 
 
 My wife was badly afflicted with bronchitis, and the cli- 
 mate of San Francisco not being favorable to her disease, 
 we concluded to go to our ranch of one hundred and sixty 
 acres in Southern California, and see if we could not make 
 us a home there by exchanging my land for a small place 
 that had improvements upon it. 
 
 Very reluctantly I gave up my Electropoise business, but 
 I took some instruments with me, and three years' experi- 
 ence ; also a sub-agency from Mr. Watson to use and sell 
 the same, so that I could follow it again if my eyes permitted 
 me to do so. We stopped in Los Angeles for two or three 
 weeks to give me a chance to look about and see what I 
 could do. I went out to San Bernardino County, where 
 my land was situated, also to the city of San Bernardino, as 
 well as Colton, Riverside, and Redlands. 
 
 Finally I ran across a man in Colton, by the name of 
 Greenleaf, who told me that he knew of a man who would 
 exchange a twenty-acre ranch that was more than half set 
 out to oranges and other fruit, and I could see him the 
 next day. He was introduced to me as the Rev. Mr. Rogers. 
 
 I had had, at different times during my career, consid- 
 erable dealings with church members, deacons, and ministers 
 
366 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 of the Gospel, who had invariably tried to swindle me ; there- 
 fore, I kept these facts in my mind, and looked upon Mr. 
 Rogers as one of the same class, subsequent events proving 
 that I was right. However, we came to an agreement, ver- 
 bally, to meet in Los Angeles, at a certain day and place, 
 and close the transaction. Deeds were to be made out and 
 each one was to give a clear title, without encumbrances. 
 We met, and made contracts to meet and exchange deeds 
 on a certain day, in Colton, Cal. In the meantime I was 
 to take possession, have my deed and abstract ready, and 
 Mr. Rogers was to have his ready. The matter went along 
 so very smoothly that I began to have my suspicions that 
 there might be something wrong. So I visited Lawyer A. B. 
 Paris, of San Bernardino, who informed me that Elder 
 Rogers was one of the smoothest rascals in the country. 
 Therefore, I left the matter of exchanging my one hundred 
 and sixty acres of land for Rogers' place with Paris, and 
 he soon found there was a mortgage on Rogers' place of 
 twenty-five hundred dollars. I dropped a note to Mr. Rogers 
 to meet me on the day agreed upon at Colonel Paris' office 
 in San Bernardino. Rogers met me there, and when the 
 colonel asked him about the mortgage, he said: "Oh, that 
 is all right ; I will pay that off in a few days, already having 
 made arrangements for it." *'But," says the colonel, "we 
 cannot give you any deed until that mortgage is paid up 
 and cancelled." "Oh well," said Rogers, "Pll give you 
 my deed, and you can leave yours with the Colton National 
 Bank, not to be delivered until I present the mortgage, can- 
 celled from the court." He also said it would be all straight- 
 ened out in a couple of weeks. 
 
 On March 28th my wife and I moved on to the twenty- 
 acre ranch, and we found ourselves settled in a few days, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 367 
 
 with a feeling that we had a home, and I commenced im- 
 proving the place. Rogers had not paid off the mortgage, 
 but made most glittering promises to do so. Time went 
 on, a year had passed, and the mortgage remained unpaid. 
 The man who held the mortgage threatened to foreclose, 
 but Rogers still failed to pay even the interest. I had my 
 one hundred and sixty acres, but had so many improvements 
 on the place I had bargained for that I did not propose to 
 leave it without some remuneration for doing so. I came 
 to the conclusion that Rogers had given up all intention 
 of paying off the mortgage, and would let the mortgagor 
 take the place, so I commenced to negotiate with J. N. 
 Roads for its purchase, or the exchange of my one hundred 
 and sixty acres for it. Not until May, 1896, did Roads 
 foreclose the mortgage, and then it had to be sold at auction 
 six months after, or in November, 1896. Roads bid it in, 
 and I exchanged my one hundred and sixty acres to Roads 
 and got a clear title, and finally had a home once more. On 
 the first of January, 1897, we were fully settled on the third 
 terrace, a mile and a half northwest from the city of Colton. 
 It had been a long struggle, over three and a half years, for 
 a home, but we got it. 
 
 Now I will go back to March, 1893, when we first occu- 
 pied our home. Before we left San Francisco I got a letter 
 from my brother, Wm. E. Porter, that his health was very 
 poor, and he thought that he would like to come to Cali- 
 fornia to see if I could cure him with the Electropolse. If 
 he could not sell his place in Smithville, N. Y., he would 
 rent it, and come out. I wrote him that I was going to 
 Southern California, and as soon as I could get me a home 
 I would let him know, when he could come and live with me. 
 All tUe family he had was one daughter, eleven years old. 
 
36^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 As soon as 1 got settled on the place I wrote him to come. 
 He reached Colton in June, 1893. He was hardly able to 
 walk from the house to the barn, a distance of one hundred 
 and twenty-five feet, but I soon got him improving slowly. 
 He had kidney trouble, from a strain thirty years before, 
 and had been an invalid most of the time. For about five 
 months he improved slowly, then he began to improve faster, 
 and in a few months more was better than he had been 
 for years. He was at my home for nine or ten months, when 
 he went back to his farm in the town of Smithville, New 
 York. 
 
 In the fall of 1893 I went East to bring my wife's mother, 
 Mrs. Holland, back to California with me. I also wished 
 to attend the reunion of my old regiment at Syracuse, N. Y. 
 I left Colton October 12th, reaching Syracuse October 17th, 
 in time for the reunion. After the meeting was over I went 
 to Unadilla, to my wife's brother, after her mother, whom 
 I found well, and she accompanied me to Cortland, N. Y., 
 to see her daughter and son, who lived at Truxton and 
 McGraw, respectively. I had a pretty stormy time to get 
 their consent for their mother to go with me, but finally 
 accomplished my purpose. We took the train for Chicago, 
 and then to Marengo, 111., to see my aunt and cousin there. 
 On account of delay in receiving funds, we did not leave 
 there before the middle of November. Mrs. Holland en- 
 joyed the trip very much. Between Chicago and Kansas 
 City I was robbed of my return ticket, and had to buy one 
 from there to Colton. In all my travels I had never been 
 robbed of anything before. The ticket was taken while 
 I was asleep in my berth. 
 
 We travelled via the Santa Fe Railroad. My wife met 
 us at San Bernardino, and both of the ladies were delighted 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 3^9 
 
 to be together once more. This was our first winter in 
 Southern California. It was a cool, but delightful one, 
 and we all enjoyed it very much. During the year 1894, 
 after my brother left, I was engaged in taking care of the 
 place and treating a good many patients with the electro- 
 poise. From the cures I made there was a gradual increase 
 of patients, which fully paid all expenses. Nothing of mo- 
 ment occurred during the year 1894. We all enjoyed good 
 health, and Dollie (my wife) and her mother were like two 
 children, as happy as could be, and I was content. My 
 sight was slowly getting worse, and I could do nothing to 
 improve it. In the winter of 1894-95 we had a man living 
 with us, by the name of Cole, for a while, whom I was treat- 
 ing, and some other parties whose names I have forgotten. 
 In the meantime my patients were increasing, and I had to 
 spend more time studying. In looking after the property, 
 attending to patients, and so forth, I was kept very busy, 
 so I got a man, by the name of E. D. Walker, to come and 
 live with us and take care of the place. 
 
 The summer of 1895 passed off all right, but one thing 
 troubled me, and that was my failing eyesight. My wife 
 and I, with her mother, were as happy as could be expected. 
 I had come to the conclusion that Rogers would never lift 
 the mortgage, and Roads had come to the same conclusion, 
 and promised me to foreclose the mortgage, which he did 
 in May, 1896, agreeing to pay me fifteen dollars per month 
 for taking care of it. I hired Walker to work for me at 
 twenty dollars per month for the year, I to board him. We 
 had to wait six months before the sale of the place, after 
 the foreclosure, and that carried us through the summer 
 of 1896. In the meantime I tried to negotiate for the place 
 on the same basis that Rogers and I were to trade, but it 
 
370 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 was a hard job. However, as before stated, the trade was 
 made, and we had a home. I employed Walker, and com- 
 menced to improve the place. McKinley had been elected 
 President of the United States, I had a home, and we were 
 all happy and contented. 
 
 My success with the Electropoise was marvellous, patients 
 were increasing, and everything looked promising up to the 
 day of the inauguration of McKinley, on the fourth day of 
 March, 1897. That night my wife's mother went to bed all 
 right at eight p.m. At half-past ten p.m. she woke us up, 
 saying she was choking to death. We both got up at once, 
 and found her in a critical condition. She was in great pain 
 about the heart. I eased that with the Electropoise, but 
 she grew weak. My wife brought some hot water, but it 
 was of no avail ; her pulse grew weaker and weaker. I sent 
 Walker at once for a doctor at Colton, telling him to hurry, 
 for I thought she would be dead before he could get back. 
 My wife took her in her arms, and in forty minutes from 
 the time she called us she breathed her last. A blood vessel 
 near the heart had burst. 
 
 She was one of the best women I ever knew, of the 
 sweetest disposition, and always cheerful, kind, and obliging. 
 To have known her was to have loved her. We laid her 
 to rest in a bed of flowers in the City Cemetery of San Ber- 
 nardino. My wife almost idolized her mother, and the loss 
 of her almost killed her daughter. 
 
 During the year 1897 I made many improvements on my 
 place, laying pipes, setting out trees, and getting the place 
 in shape. It was a dry year and we could not get water 
 enough to keep the place up to a proper standard; but we 
 did the best we could. 
 
 On January i, 1898, there was a better feeling as to the 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 37i 
 
 future, and times began to improve in some parts of the 
 country, though we did not notice much difference here. 
 Walker had my place to work again this year, but the rain- 
 fall had been scanty, the prospects for water were very poor, 
 and there was not much show for pushing the orange grove 
 to any extent, but we had some oranges to sell for the first 
 time since I owned the ranch. 
 
 The Electropoise business increased considerably, and 
 money was a little more plentiful with me than it had been 
 before. I made some very remarkable cures during the 
 year which astonished the doctors considerably. My sight 
 did not improve much, in fact it was a little worse, but I had 
 studied considerably, and perhaps used my eyes too much; 
 besides, the heat of summer injured them, and it looked 
 very much as though I might lose my sight altogether ; but 
 I kept up in good spirits, and made the best of it, though it 
 was hard to keep from my books. Besides the patients we 
 had a good deal of other company, my wife and I always 
 trying to make it pleasant for everybody who came to see 
 us. The year passed without anything particular occurring. 
 We were as happy as could be under the circumstances, and 
 drifted along down the stream of life without scarcely a 
 ripple to mar our happiness. 
 
 New Year's Day came and went. The winter was a very 
 dry one and we had to irrigate all winter. In January two 
 young ladies came to reside with us, natives of Canada. Their 
 names were Bertha Little and Rose Little. The former 
 was sent here for her health, and her sister came with her 
 to take care of her. Her disease was laryngitis. I treated 
 her, with good success, until the 25th of July, when they 
 departed for their home. They were both charming young 
 ladies and we missed them when they had gone. 
 
372 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 My wife was not in good health, but I kept her up with 
 oxygen, so that she was able to do her work most of the 
 time. In the fall of 1899 I got a letter from Mark Brownell 
 saying that he thought he and his wife, Minnie, would likely 
 make us a visit, if agreeable to us. Nothing could suit us 
 better, I wrote him, for my latch string hung on the out- 
 side to all old comrades, especially to those of my own 
 regiment. Brownell was a member of Company A of the 
 Tenth Cavalry, and when I was East, in 1891, his wife and 
 himself treated me very kindly at their home in Cortland, 
 at a time when I was sick and in a miserable condition with 
 a dozen boils, more or less. 
 
 In December I got a letter that they were on the way, 
 and would telegraph me what day they would arrive in 
 Colton, specifying what train they would be on, etc. On 
 the morning of the i8th of December they arrived, and 
 were delighted with everything, as we were with them. The 
 next day after their arrival a very heavy norther set in, 
 which lasted for five days, but they did not seem to mind 
 it much, although it kept us all indoors. We had a most 
 enjo3'ab]e time, notwithstanding the disagreeable weather. 
 We had concluded to have a small reunion of what few 
 soldiers we could gather together of our regiment for a 
 Christmas dinner. We sent an invitation to all whom we 
 knew were in this part of the country. David Brinkley and 
 wife, of Los Angeles, responded, and Corporal Ellen, of the 
 Soldiers' Home at Santa Monica, who belonged to Company 
 M of our regiment; Uncle Jesse Higgs, of a New York 
 regiment of infantry, was also with us. We all fully en- 
 joyed the small but happy reunion to the full extent of our 
 ability. All the party had arrived the day before, and Christ- 
 mas Eve was spent very happily. Mrs. Brownell made the 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 373 
 
 remark that she had experienced 'most everything that Cali- 
 fornia could afiford, except an earthquake, and she would 
 like to see what it was like. She was fully gratified, for 
 before daylight on Christmas morning we had the worst 
 shock I had ever experienced in this country. San Jacinto 
 and Hemet had buildings shaken down, and four 
 Indians were killed. Brinkley was badly affected by the 
 shock for several hours. Mrs. Brownell was perfectly sat- 
 isfied with the demonstration, and did not care to have any 
 more. 
 
 Brownell and his wife went to Pasadena, to the rose tour- 
 nament, on New Year's Day, 1900, besides visiting many 
 other parts of Southern California, but kept their headquar- 
 ters at our house, returning now and then to rest and re- 
 cuperate. They took their final departure on March 8, 1900, 
 and visited the northern part of the State on their tour of 
 California, going as far north as Puget Sound, thence east, 
 via the Northern Pacific. 
 
 Johnny Cowles and wife made us a visit from Chicago, 
 and stayed with us a week while Brownell was here. Johnny 
 was an old member of our regiment in the Civil War. My 
 wife was in miserable health most of the latter part of the 
 winter, and I was very busy with my patients, who had in- 
 creased very rapidly, and I was obliged to stick pretty closely 
 to my studies and observations in order to learn the effects 
 of oxygen on the human system. One great drawback is 
 that there are no books that teach the effects of oxygen; 
 in fact, the M. D.'s do not seem to know anything about it. 
 Their colleges teach nothing of the kind. The best medical 
 experts of the land will fill up a patient with drugs and poi- 
 sons and then pour down liquid oxygen, which assists nature 
 to throw off the poisons administered, and puts the patient in 
 
374 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 the greatest misery imaginable during the reaction, as in 
 the case of President McKinley, who begged of them not 
 to give him any more oxygen, because it caused him to 
 suffer so intensely. No medicine should be given with 
 oxygen. Either depend upon medicine alone or upon oxygen 
 alone. They are antagonistic to a remarkable degree and 
 only make the malady worse. 
 
 The year 1900 proved a very successful one for me in 
 treating patients for all kinds of diseases, and my reputa- 
 tion advanced accordingly; but there was one drawback to 
 my success, and that was my poor eyesight. My sight was 
 gradually getting poorer and poorer as time advanced, so 
 much so that I had to curtail my reading and writing during 
 the heat of the day and by lamp-light, which was very an- 
 noying to me, as my whole mind, heart, and soul were in 
 the work of investigating the action of oxygen on the human 
 system. I made many remarkable cures during the year. 
 I worked hard, but enjoyed good health most of the time. 
 My wife was in poor health most of the time, but I was 
 able to hold her trouble in check, so that at the end of the 
 year she was no worse. 
 
 Slowly but surely my sight was getting worse, and my age 
 being against me, I feared that there was no further help 
 for it, but I did not despair, or allow it to worry me, keeping 
 on with my business as best I could and taking as good care 
 of myself as possible. Keeping cheerful and contented is 
 the best of tonics for health and long life, and for this rea- 
 son I determined to keep up good spirits and take things 
 as they came. Therefore, 1901 found me about as good as 
 ever. E. D. Walker had my ranch to take care of for this 
 year, and David J. Dartt, a young man who had been with 
 US for a year for treatment, left us, well, and went North. 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 375 
 
 Miss Belle Randall, who had been with us for a year, still 
 
 r.ii. .0 ».. o.. .»»y ... -^ -;%":*;:. 
 
 gave her a wedding and she was married at o"^ touse 
 ^ Business had increased with me to a considerable extent 
 :ind I had been very successful with some very severe cases 
 of s ckness My wife had worked too hard during the 
 1 andlhad noticed that she was failing in health but 
 ^though I cautioned her that she was threatened with pa- 
 ralysis she would not curb the propensity of doing more 
 han her vitality would allow. It worried me a great deal, 
 but I could not coax her to desist, and she kept on overdo- 
 ing rushing headlong on to the inevitable. Our winter was a 
 vef ; dry one and we had to irrigate nearly the whole ime 
 My heJth remained very good, but my sight was no better, 
 and v4s slowly failing. Happy and contented otherwise we 
 enjoyed life fully as well as the average run of people of 
 
 ""m^ wife and I lived alone for some time, until we got a 
 
 voune lady by the name of Ina Lyman, to work for us, as 
 
 Ly wife was hardly able to do our work. My Electropoise 
 
 business was increasing and my sight slowly decreasing, 
 
 and I had " much to do that I felt that I was overdoing^ 
 
 Miss Lyrnan proved to be a good help and we got along very 
 
 Sv During the very hot weather in July, ^902,m^^-^ 
 
 and kiss Lyman got up one morning, very e-bs to d° he 
 
 , . J 4- ;f rMif hpinre it eot too not. iney gor it 
 
 wnshmo' and sret it out oeiore u g^i- , , , 11 ^^1. 
 
 :ut before breakfast, but my wife was so tired she could ea 
 no hing but kept on until noon overworking, and at dinner 
 : *d fat nothing. In the afternoon she tried to res , and w s 
 lying on a cot, in the shade of the house, when .he began to 
 
376 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 feel very bad and got up to go into the house. She got as far 
 as the piazza, and sat down in a chair. I passed into the 
 office to see v/hen I had treated her last, when I heard her 
 cry out my name, as if in distress. I ran out just in time 
 to save her from falling out of the chair to the floor. Her 
 whole body was rigid, and she was unconscious. I laid 
 her on the floor and called to Miss Lyman to bring some 
 water, in the meantime applying the Electropoise to her 
 ankle as soon as possible. She was still breathing, but with 
 great effort. I bathed her temples, and watched results. 
 She soon seemed a little easier, though still unconscious, and 
 remained so for over thirty minutes. In the meantime we 
 had laid her on a cot on the porch. I saw her symptoms 
 were favorable ; she became partially conscious, but was un- 
 able to move. We carried her into the house and put her 
 to bed. It was a complete stroke of paralysis of the whole 
 body, but I got the Electropoise on her so soon that it saved 
 her. After she had become fully conscious a severe pain 
 settled in the small of her back and she was unable to move 
 herself, compelling me to handle her as you would a baby. 
 I watched and attended her for twenty-four hours, applied 
 the treating plate to the spot where the pain centered (in 
 the small of the back) for a short time, which relieved her 
 almost immediately, and in two hours she was walking about 
 the house without help, although very weak. In three days 
 she was quite well, but weak, and it was a year or more 
 before she got back to where she was before the stroke. 
 Not a drop of medicine nor of anything else was used, only 
 hot compresses. It was a close call for her, and I thought 
 she would surely die, and I think she would have had I not 
 been on the spot at the time. Oxygen is certainly the best 
 cure for all nervous diseases ever discovered, and I have 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 377 
 
 brought out many a one from a stroke of hemiplegia, para- 
 plegia, and locomotor ataxia, where all other methods utterly 
 failed when attended by the best physicians. I may say that 
 I am all the while working on the most obdurate cases, on 
 which the best doctors have exhausted their powers and 
 given them up as past curing, and almost without exception 
 I have brought them out all right. 
 
 The year passed very quietly and we got along without 
 any other mishaps until 1903. My business increased con- 
 siderably during the winter and spring. We then learned 
 of the death of my wife's sister-in-law, who lived at Una- 
 dilla, N. Y. She left her brother's daughter without a home 
 or parents, and we wrote to her to come to us and make 
 her home with us. She was an only child of my wife's broth- 
 er, and had reached the age of twenty years. She accepted 
 our offer, and was to come in the fall, after spending the 
 summer with relatives in New York State. Her name is 
 Ella E. Holland, and when she arrived at our home we found 
 her a charming and lovely girl. We were proud of her, 
 and delighted to have so good a companion for us both. 
 We soon learned to love her as our own, and we think 
 she fully reciprocates our feelings. Considering every- 
 thing, we were a happy family, and all seemingly well con- 
 tented. 
 
 I bought six lots in Colton and am trying to sell my old 
 ranch on the sandhill, and will move into Colton if I am 
 successful. I had a letter from my cousin, Sophia E. Rob- 
 erts, the first news of her for many years. She writes me 
 that there is a prospect of my receiving something from the 
 estate of my cousin, Hobart Kimberly, of Hamden, Conn.; 
 also that I ought to have had quite a sum from Aunt Cynthia 
 Bradley's estate, which had been kept back by the adminis- 
 
syS ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 trator, Henry Tuttle, a cousin of mine, who has proved 
 to be a rascal of the first water. 
 
 In September of this year I attended the yearly Grand 
 Encampment held at San Francisco, Cal. I spent a week 
 there and had a most enjoyable visit with old comrades and 
 friends. I returned without mishap. 
 
 Aside from my increasing blindness my health has re- 
 mained good during the whole year ; also my wife's. Noth- 
 ing of any importance occurred during the rest of the year. 
 
 New Year's Day found me still on the old sandhill ranch, 
 not having been able to dispose of it. Business seemed to 
 increase, and I had all I could very well attend to, with my 
 increasing blindness. The year before I had made some 
 very remarkable cures and that increased my business very 
 much. 
 
 The year 1904 was a prosperous year, and I concluded to 
 build me a home in Colton, whether I sold the ranch or not, 
 and I made preparations accordingly. I secured four lots on 
 the corner of I and Second streets, and gave the plans to 
 five contractors to figure on, finally awarding the contract 
 to H. F. Wegnori, of San Bernardino, to build me a house, 
 and it was ready for occupation in March, 1905. As I was 
 very busy, I secured the services of R. H. Franklin, an old 
 soldier, and a friend of mine, to superintend its construc- 
 tion, which he did in an able and honest manner. We moved 
 into our new home March 21, 1905, where we hope to 
 spend many happy years, comfort and cure the afflicted, 
 and prolong the lives of ourselves and friends by assist- 
 ing nature with the life-giving oxygen extracted from her 
 own laboratories ; good air, food, water, proper temperature, 
 and a strict adhesion to the following general direc- 
 tions ; 
 
CLOSING EVENTS 379 
 
 No medicine, drugs, or poisons. 'r^i-. 
 
 No electricity of any kind. 
 
 No turpentine, chloroform, or alcohol. 
 
 No liniments, salves, or lotions. 
 
 No beer, wine, or any kind of liquors, unless specially pre- 
 scribed. 
 
 Patent medicines contain from twelve to fifty per cent, 
 of alcohol. 
 
 During treatment bathe not more than twice a week, with 
 water just comfortable. Use a sponge or towel only. Rub 
 well toward the body. 
 
 Avoid hot baths, or very cold ones. Never bathe for two 
 hours or more after a meal. To bathe before retiring is best. 
 
 You must sleep alone, both for your own sake and that 
 of others. 
 
 Never eat without an appetite. Wait until the stomach 
 calls for food. Eat well when you have an appetite, but 
 stop when you could eat more. 
 
 Never overeat. Never eat when tired and exhausted. Rest 
 first. 
 
 Avoid meat at the last meal of the day. 
 
 As to diet, no two persons are alike. 
 
 No set of rules can be given for everybody. 
 
 Eat that which agrees with you and let alone that which 
 does not. Don't mix several kinds of vegetables at the 
 same meal, or mix fruits with vegetables. Too many kinds 
 of food at one meal are not good. Use olives or olive oil 
 as a food if you wish. 
 
 Drink sparingly at meals. Avoid strong tea and coffee. 
 Use no milk in coffee and plenty of milk in tea. 
 
 Use plenty of cold water between meals, but not too much 
 at a time, 
 
38o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 Most people eat too much, especially old people. Modera- 
 tion in all things. 
 
 Be careful about overworking in nervous troubles. Obey 
 the laws of nature, and profit thereby. 
 
 Oxygen assists nature to remove the cause of disease. 
 Oxygen gives you vitality. Drugs, medicine, and alcohol 
 reduce the vitality and only remove effects. 
 
 Holding the hands in cold water will, many times, reduce 
 the pains and bad feelings caused by the action of the oxy- 
 gen. 
 
 Hot compresses, as hot as can be borne, placed over the 
 painful part, will relieve, but you must remove as soon as 
 relieved. Sip a cup of hot water, with a pinch of salt in it, 
 for sour stomach, short breathing, nausea, or fainting fits, 
 or a constricted throat. On going to bed, sip a cup of hot 
 water, with a pinch of salt in it, for constipation. 
 
 Oxygen will reverse the process of disease. After six- 
 teen years of experience we cure more diseases with oxygen 
 (except consumption) than by any other method known, 
 and can prove it by demonstration, if the treatment is not 
 interfered with and directions are followed. Since 189 1 my 
 life has been fully occupied with studying the symptoms and 
 causes of disease and the effects of oxygen upon the same, 
 and I flatter myself that my studies have not been in vain, 
 as thousands can testify. I have been badly handicapped by 
 my failing eyesight, for which there seems to be no remedy, 
 and it looks as though I must eventually become blind. I 
 am doing all I can to preserve what little sight I have. By 
 taking good care of myself and cheerfully making the best 
 of my serious condition, I am in hopes that I may be spared 
 to successfully combat the ills cf life, smooth the path of life 
 for suffering humanity, correct in a measure the excesses, 
 
CLOSING EVENTS ^ 381 
 
 and teach many people to depend upon Nature and let drugs, 
 poisons, and M. D.'s alone. 
 
 The year 1905 was a fairly prosperous one with me, al- 
 though my sight surely but slowly failed. Changing our 
 home from the ranch to our house in town, and getting the 
 house in order, furnishing and fitting it up in an up-to-date 
 manner, has occupied our time and attention for most of 
 the year. Several of our most beloved relatives and friends 
 have died, though myself and family passed through the 
 year most comfortably and satisfactorily. 
 
 Some of the time I was overworked by the many patients, 
 but New Year's Day, 1906, found me in good condition, 
 physically and morally, and as jovial as ever, still in the 
 pursuit of happiness. On account of my eyes and my pa- 
 tients, I was tied up at home, and visited Los Angeles only 
 twice during the year 1905, once to visit the Old Soldiers' 
 Encampment at Huntington Beach, and once on business. 
 During the hot summer months I was obliged to keep out 
 of the heat, on account of my eyes. 
 
 For several years I have been a prisoner at home during 
 the heated term, although enjoying the best of health. I am, 
 at the present time of writing, in my seventy-fifth year of 
 life. 
 
 The greater part of the foregoing pages have been writ- 
 ten since I was seventy years young, almost entirely from 
 memory, for I had but little memoranda to draw from; 
 therefore, I had to leave out many amusing incidents that 
 I had passed through that would have made the history of 
 my life more interesting, perhaps. 
 
 The idea of my writing this book was conceived by a 
 young lady who spent several months at our house, and she 
 was never so happy as when she could coax me to relate 
 
332 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 some of my past experiences. She would sit for hours Hsten- 
 ing to them, and then say, *'Why don't you write a book? 
 How I would like to read it ! It would surely be interesting 
 to others/' 
 
 Poor girl ! She is dead now, but it confirms the old adage 
 that there is a woman in the case, in many of our troubles — 
 and there was one in this case — of my autobiography. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ,#*:■' 
 
APR 30 1907