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IN the winter of ’48 I resided in New Bedford, Mass. I had a chum. What boy has not? My chum’s name was Bill. He had been absent from New Bedford for a few months, and on meeting him, a few days after his return, I greeted him with: “Hello, Bill! Have you heard the news?” “No; what is it?” “Well; while you were away, the news came that a man in California, named Marshall, has made the discovery that there’s lots of Gold out there. He found a big chunk of it where he was at work.” “You don’t say so! What’s he going to do with it; did he say?” “That has nothing to do with the case. There’s the greatest excitement here, you ever heard of. Not only here, but all over the country, on account of the discovery. Thousands of men are getting ready to go out there. A lot of ships down at the wharves are being fitted out for the voyage, and they are going to take passengers cheap. Now what do you say to going along?” Bill did not seem to enthuse nearly as much as the occasion would warrant, for said he, “Well, now; I don’t see what reasons you can give for supposing that there’s more gold there, simply because this man found a chunk of it.” “But, Bill,” said I, with undampened ardor; “don’t you understand the scientific nature of it? Isn’t it likely that there must be lots more of it scattered about? Besides, the volcanic character of the country is very favorable for that kind of a product, you know.” Bill smiled skeptically, and gave me the benefit of his geological knowledge as follows: “Oh, yes, I know. The gold is thrown out from the bowels of the earth, where it’s manufactured, by the volcanoes and scattered about on the tops of the mountains. Then along come the earthquakes and shake it down among the grass roots and bushes in the valleys, where you expect to scrape it up by the bushel.” “Oh, well, it may prove to be, as you say, a wild goose chase, after all; but there’s a ship, now at the wharf, right from San Francisco, and one of the sailors, who seems to be a real honest chap, told me that the country was chock full of gold. He said that after they had hoisted up the anchor to start home he scraped the mud off the anchor and washed more than five pounds out of it—” “Of what—mud?” “No, of Gold; Real Gold!” “Oh, pshaw! Do you believe that yarn?” “Why, of course I do! Sailors are noted for their veracity.” “Nothing of the kind. They have the reputation of being the biggest liars on earth; especially when out on the water and the wind blows hard.” Still true to my colors, I protested, “That’s impossible.” “No, ’tis not, for if you were sailing a ship out at sea and the wind blew real hard, you’d lie too.” Bill’s levity fell upon unappreciative soil. I was too much in earnest, and resumed: “I’m bound to go out there, Bill, if I don’t pick more than a hatful of gold in a day. There’s nothing like trying, you know. But what’s the use of going after gold, you say? Well, now, isn’t that what we are all after, and nearly crazy to get? And, isn’t it easier to go to a country where you can scrape it up from the ground or pick it out from among the grass by the bucketful, than it is to toil and sweat and worry through a long life here?” I cannot now remember whether Bill was just a little cynical, or simply echoed the opinions of some of the wiseacres of that day when he parried my query with, “There’s plenty of money in the country now, and more is unnecessary. What are you going to do with it all?” “That’s a singular idea,” I answered. “Do you suppose it’s possible to have too much money in the country? Such old, puritanical notions about money are ridiculous. You and I haven’t too much and we could use a few millions to good advantage, if we had them. And if it should prove true that lots of gold can be found in California, you’ll live to see this country step to the front among nations in wealth, prosperity and enterprise.” In my ardor I had risen to unwonted heights of eloquence. Bill thought that there was enough enterprise in the country, already. I assured him that when we began to send gold back from California in ton lots, the various enterprises would boom to an extent never before witnessed in the world. Bill had, however, taken the negative side of the issue and fired another broadside at me: “Yes, but Jo, aren’t you going it a little too fast in anticipating such big things? For my part, I don’t believe that there’s enough gold in all of California to do all that. ’Twould take bushels of it, you know.” Upon confirmation of the news of the discovery of gold in California, all was commotion in the various seaports of the Atlantic coast. Vessels of all sizes and descriptions, from the small, 50 ton fishing smack, that would be compelled to crawl along near the shore, up to the noble clipper ship, that was able to contend with the elements in mid-ocean, were fitted up with conveniences for passengers in greatest haste. Many vessels sailed early in the year of ’49 for the Eldorado. It was not, however, until the spring that the grand stampede commenced. By April 1, in ’49, 50,000 good, able-bodied men, and a few women, all desirous of bettering their condition and acquiring wealth in a much easier and quicker method than by the old-fashioned, slow and plodding methods of their ancestors, were upon their way to the other side of the continent, willing to encounter the danger from Indians or starvation, whilst an equal number preferred to risk the dangers of a journey by sea to the land of gold. In company with about one hundred others, we took passage in the clipper ship “America,” Capt. C. P. Seabury, from the port of New Bedford, Mass. On the morning of the 1st of April, the fact was announced that all must be on board at 10 A.M. The anchor was raised from its muddy bed below; the sails were unfurled to the breeze; the bow of our boat swung round a bit and pointed out toward the billows in the big ocean beyond. We bade farewell to friends who accompanied us out to the light-house; and, with hearty wishes from them that we might meet with the greatest success in our venturesome undertaking, sailed out upon the broad ocean in the direction of Cape Horn. We watched the green hills, with which we had been familiar from early childhood, as they vanished from sight below the horizon, and wondered then if ’twas so ordained by the powers above, that we would soon be enabled to return again to these familiar scenes of our boyhood days with our pockets lined with tin (and some of us still continue in the same business, at the old stand, of wondering). Our passengers, being unaccustomed to the situation, soon felt very peculiar sensations produced by the motions of the vessel. We sought the entrance to the basement, into which we managed to make our way in an oblique kind of a style, and retired to our sleeping apartments, there to remain until we deemed it safe to again climb out upon the roof of the vessel.

IN the winter of ’48 I resided in New Bedford, Mass. I had a chum. What boy has not? My chum’s name was Bill. He had been absent from New Bedford for a few months, and on meeting him, a few days after his return, I greeted him with: “Hello, Bill! Have you heard the news?” “No; what is it?” “Well; while you were away, the news came that a man in California, named Marshall, has made the discovery that there’s lots of Gold out there. He found a big chunk of it where he was at work.” “You don’t say so! What’s he going to do with it; did he say?” “That has nothing to do with the case. There’s the greatest excitement here, you ever heard of. Not only here, but all over the country, on account of the discovery. Thousands of men are getting ready to go out there. A lot of ships down at the wharves are being fitted out for the voyage, and they are going to take passengers cheap. Now what do you say to going along?” Bill did not seem to enthuse nearly as much as the occasion would warrant, for said he, “Well, now; I don’t see what reasons you can give for supposing that there’s more gold there, simply because this man found a chunk of it.” “But, Bill,” said I, with undampened ardor; “don’t you understand the scientific nature of it? Isn’t it likely that there must be lots more of it scattered about? Besides, the volcanic character of the country is very favorable for that kind of a product, you know.” Bill smiled skeptically, and gave me the benefit of his geological knowledge as follows: “Oh, yes, I know. The gold is thrown out from the bowels of the earth, where it’s manufactured, by the volcanoes and scattered about on the tops of the mountains. Then along come the earthquakes and shake it down among the grass roots and bushes in the valleys, where you expect to scrape it up by the bushel.” “Oh, well, it may prove to be, as you say, a wild goose chase, after all; but there’s a ship, now at the wharf, right from San Francisco, and one of the sailors, who seems to be a real honest chap, told me that the country was chock full of gold. He said that after they had hoisted up the anchor to start home he scraped the mud off the anchor and washed more than five pounds out of it—” “Of what—mud?” “No, of Gold; Real Gold!” “Oh, pshaw! Do you believe that yarn?” “Why, of course I do! Sailors are noted for their veracity.” “Nothing of the kind. They have the reputation of being the biggest liars on earth; especially when out on the water and the wind blows hard.” Still true to my colors, I protested, “That’s impossible.” “No, ’tis not, for if you were sailing a ship out at sea and the wind blew real hard, you’d lie too.” Bill’s levity fell upon unappreciative soil. I was too much in earnest, and resumed: “I’m bound to go out there, Bill, if I don’t pick more than a hatful of gold in a day. There’s nothing like trying, you know. But what’s the use of going after gold, you say? Well, now, isn’t that what we are all after, and nearly crazy to get? And, isn’t it easier to go to a country where you can scrape it up from the ground or pick it out from among the grass by the bucketful, than it is to toil and sweat and worry through a long life here?” I cannot now remember whether Bill was just a little cynical, or simply echoed the opinions of some of the wiseacres of that day when he parried my query with, “There’s plenty of money in the country now, and more is unnecessary. What are you going to do with it all?” “That’s a singular idea,” I answered. “Do you suppose it’s possible to have too much money in the country? Such old, puritanical notions about money are ridiculous. You and I haven’t too much and we could use a few millions to good advantage, if we had them. And if it should prove true that lots of gold can be found in California, you’ll live to see this country step to the front among nations in wealth, prosperity and enterprise.” In my ardor I had risen to unwonted heights of eloquence. Bill thought that there was enough enterprise in the country, already. I assured him that when we began to send gold back from California in ton lots, the various enterprises would boom to an extent never before witnessed in the world. Bill had, however, taken the negative side of the issue and fired another broadside at me: “Yes, but Jo, aren’t you going it a little too fast in anticipating such big things? For my part, I don’t believe that there’s enough gold in all of California to do all that. ’Twould take bushels of it, you know.” Upon confirmation of the news of the discovery of gold in California, all was commotion in the various seaports of the Atlantic coast. Vessels of all sizes and descriptions, from the small, 50 ton fishing smack, that would be compelled to crawl along near the shore, up to the noble clipper ship, that was able to contend with the elements in mid-ocean, were fitted up with conveniences for passengers in greatest haste. Many vessels sailed early in the year of ’49 for the Eldorado. It was not, however, until the spring that the grand stampede commenced. By April 1, in ’49, 50,000 good, able-bodied men, and a few women, all desirous of bettering their condition and acquiring wealth in a much easier and quicker method than by the old-fashioned, slow and plodding methods of their ancestors, were upon their way to the other side of the continent, willing to encounter the danger from Indians or starvation, whilst an equal number preferred to risk the dangers of a journey by sea to the land of gold. In company with about one hundred others, we took passage in the clipper ship “America,” Capt. C. P. Seabury, from the port of New Bedford, Mass. On the morning of the 1st of April, the fact was announced that all must be on board at 10 A.M. The anchor was raised from its muddy bed below; the sails were unfurled to the breeze; the bow of our boat swung round a bit and pointed out toward the billows in the big ocean beyond. We bade farewell to friends who accompanied us out to the light-house; and, with hearty wishes from them that we might meet with the greatest success in our venturesome undertaking, sailed out upon the broad ocean in the direction of Cape Horn. We watched the green hills, with which we had been familiar from early childhood, as they vanished from sight below the horizon, and wondered then if ’twas so ordained by the powers above, that we would soon be enabled to return again to these familiar scenes of our boyhood days with our pockets lined with tin (and some of us still continue in the same business, at the old stand, of wondering). Our passengers, being unaccustomed to the situation, soon felt very peculiar sensations produced by the motions of the vessel. We sought the entrance to the basement, into which we managed to make our way in an oblique kind of a style, and retired to our sleeping apartments, there to remain until we deemed it safe to again climb out upon the roof of the vessel.

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