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Title: Memoirs of General W. T. Sherman, Volume I., Part 1

Author: William T. Sherman

Release date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #5850]
                Most recently updated: December 29, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF GENERAL W. T. SHERMAN, VOLUME I., PART 1 ***




Produced by David Widger




MEMOIRS OF GENERAL W. T. SHERMAN

By William T. Sherman

Volume I., Part 1


GENERAL W. T. SHERMAN

HIS COMRADES IN ARMS,

VOLUNTEERS AND REGULARS.

Nearly ten years have passed since the close of the civil war in
America, and yet no satisfactory history thereof is accessible to
the public; nor should any be attempted until the Government has
published, and placed within the reach of students, the abundant
materials that are buried in the War Department at Washington.
These are in process of compilation; but, at the rate of progress
for the past ten years, it is probable that a new century will come
before they are published and circulated, with full indexes to
enable the historian to make a judicious selection of materials.

What is now offered is not designed as a history of the war, or
even as a complete account of all the incidents in which the writer
bore a part, but merely his recollection of events, corrected by a
reference to his own memoranda, which may assist the future
historian when he comes to describe the whole, and account for the
motives and reasons which influenced some of the actors in the
grand drama of war.

I trust a perusal of these pages will prove interesting to the
survivors, who have manifested so often their intense love of the
"cause" which moved a nation to vindicate its own authority; and,
equally so, to the rising generation, who therefrom may learn that
a country and government such as ours are worth fighting for, and
dying for, if need be.

If successful in this, I shall feel amply repaid for departing from
the usage of military men, who seldom attempt to publish their own
deeds, but rest content with simply contributing by their acts to
the honor and glory of their country.

WILLIAM T. SHERMAN,
General

St. Louis, Missouri, January 21, 1875.





PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

Another ten years have passed since I ventured to publish my
Memoirs, and, being once more at leisure, I have revised them in
the light of the many criticisms public and private.

My habit has been to note in pencil the suggestions of critics, and
to examine the substance of their differences; for critics must
differ from the author, to manifest their superiority.

Where I have found material error I have corrected; and I have
added two chapters, one at the beginning, another at the end, both
of the most general character, and an appendix.

I wish my friends and enemies to understand that I disclaim the
character of historian, but assume to be a witness on the stand
before the great tribunal of history, to assist some future Napier,
Alison, or Hume to comprehend the feelings and thoughts of the
actors in the grand conflicts of the recent past, and thereby to
lessen his labors in the compilation necessary for the future
benefit of mankind.

In this free country every man is at perfect liberty to publish his
own thoughts and impressions, and any witness who may differ from
me should publish his own version of facts in the truthful
narration of which he is interested.  I am publishing my own
memoirs, not theirs, and we all know that no three honest witnesses
of a simple brawl can agree on all the details.  How much more
likely will be the difference in a great battle covering a vast
space of broken ground, when each division, brigade, regiment, and
even company, naturally and honestly believes that it was the focus
of the whole affair! Each of them won the battle.  None ever lost.
That was the fate of the old man who unhappily commanded.

In this edition I give the best maps which I believe have ever been
prepared, compiled by General O. M. Poe, from personal knowledge
and official surveys, and what I chiefly aim to establish is the
true cause of the results which are already known to the whole
world; and it may be a relief to many to know that I shall publish
no other, but, like the player at cards, will "stand;" not that I
have accomplished perfection, but because I can do no better with
the cards in hand.  Of omissions there are plenty, but of wilful
perversion of facts, none.

In the preface to the first edition, in 1875, I used these words:
"Nearly ten years have passed since the close of the civil war in
America, and yet no satisfactory history thereof is accessible to
the public; nor should any be attempted until the Government has
published, and placed within the reach of students, the abundant
materials that are buried in the War Department at Washington.
These are in process of compilation; but, at the rate of progress
for the past ten years, it is probable that a new century will come
before they are published and circulated, with full indexes to
enable the historian to make a judicious selection of materials"

Another decade is past, and I am in possession of all these
publications, my last being Volume XI, Part 3, Series 1, the last
date in which is August 30, 1862.  I am afraid that if I assume
again the character of prophet, I must extend the time deep into
the next century, and pray meanwhile that the official records of
the war, Union and Confederate, may approach completion before the
"next war," or rather that we, as a people, may be spared another
war until the last one is officially recorded.  Meantime the rising
generation must be content with memoirs and histories compiled from
the best sources available.

In this sense I offer mine as to the events of which I was an
eye-witness and participant, or for which I was responsible.

WILLIAM T. SHERMAN,
General (retired).

St. Louis, Missouri, March 30, 1885.






MEMOIRS OF GENERAL WILLIAM T. SHERMAN.



CHAPTER I.

FROM 1820 TO THE MEXICAN WAR.

1820-1846.

According to Cothren, in his "History of Ancient Woodbury,
Connecticut," the Sherman family came from Dedham, Essex County,
England.  The first recorded name is of Edmond Sherman, with his
three sons, Edmond, Samuel, and John, who were at Boston before
1636; and farther it is distinctly recorded that Hon. Samuel
Sherman, Rev. John, his brother, and Captain John, his first
cousin, arrived from Dedham, Essex County, England, in 1634.
Samuel afterward married Sarah Mitchell, who had come (in the same
ship) from England, and finally settled at Stratford, Connecticut.
The other two (Johns) located at Watertown, Massachusetts.

From Captain John Sherman are descended Roger Sherman, the signer
of the Declaration of Independence, Hon. William M. Evarts, the
Messrs. Hoar, of Massachusetts, and many others of national fame.
Our own family are descended from the Hon. Samuel Sherman and his
son; the Rev. John, who was born in 1650-'51; then another John,
born in 1687; then Judge Daniel, born in 1721; then Taylor Sherman,
our grandfather, who was born in 1758.  Taylor Sherman was a lawyer
and judge in Norwalk, Connecticut, where he resided until his
death, May 4, 1815; leaving a widow, Betsey Stoddard Sherman, and
three children, Charles R. (our father), Daniel, and Betsey.

When the State of Connecticut, in 1786, ceded to the United States
her claim to the western part of her public domain, as defined by
her Royal Charter, she reserved a large district in what is now
northern Ohio, a portion of which (five hundred thousand acres)
composed the "Fire-Land District," which was set apart to indemnify
the parties who had lost property in Connecticut by the raids of
Generals Arnold, Tryon, and others during the latter part of the
Revolutionary War.

Our grandfather, Judge Taylor Sherman, was one of the commissioners
appointed by the State of Connecticut to quiet the Indian title,
and to survey and subdivide this Fire-Land District, which includes
the present counties of Huron and Erie.  In his capacity as
commissioner he made several trips to Ohio in the early part of
this century, and it is supposed that he then contracted the
disease which proved fatal.  For his labor and losses he received a
title to two sections of land, which fact was probably the prime
cause of the migration of our family to the West.  My father
received a good education, and was admitted to the bar at Norwalk,
Connecticut, where, in 1810, he, at twenty years of age, married
Mary Hoyt, also of Norwalk, and at once migrated to Ohio, leaving
his wife (my mother) for a time.  His first purpose was to settle
at Zanesville, Ohio, but he finally chose Lancaster, Fairfield
County, where he at once engaged in the, practice of his
profession.  In 1811 he returned to Norwalk, where, meantime, was
born Charles Taylor Sherman, the eldest of the family, who with his
mother was carried to Ohio on horseback.

Judge Taylor Sherman's family remained in Norwalk till 1815, when
his death led to the emigration of the remainder of the family,
viz., of Uncle Daniel Sherman, who settled at Monroeville, Ohio, as
a farmer, where he lived and died quite recently, leaving children
and grandchildren;  and an aunt, Betsey, who married Judge Parker,
of Mansfield, and died in 1851, leaving children and grandchildren;
also Grandmother Elizabeth Stoddard Sherman, who resided with her
daughter, Mrs: Betsey Parker, in Mansfield until her death, August
1,1848.

Thus my father, Charles R. Sherman, became finally established at
Lancaster, Ohio, as a lawyer, with his own family in the year 1811,
and continued there till the time of his death, in 1829.  I have no
doubt that he was in the first instance attracted to Lancaster by
the natural beauty of its scenery, and the charms of its already
established society.  He continued in the practice of his
profession, which in those days was no sinecure, for the ordinary
circuit was made on horseback, and embraced Marietta, Cincinnati,
and Detroit.  Hardly was the family established there when the War
of 1812 caused great alarm and distress in all Ohio.  The English
captured Detroit and the shores of Lake Erie down to the Maumee
River; while the Indians still occupied the greater part of the
State.  Nearly every man had to be somewhat of a soldier, but I
think my father was only a commissary; still, he seems to have
caught a fancy for the great chief of the Shawnees, "Tecumseh."

Perry's victory on Lake Erie was the turning-point of the Western
campaign, and General Harrison's victory over the British and
Indians at the river Thames in Canada ended the war in the West,
and restored peace and tranquillity to the exposed settlers of
Ohio.  My father at once resumed his practice at the bar, and was
soon recognized as an able and successful lawyer.  When, in 1816,
my brother James was born, he insisted on engrafting the Indian
name "Tecumseh" on the usual family list.  My mother had already
named her first son after her own brother Charles; and insisted on
the second son taking the name of her other brother James, and when
I came along, on the 8th of February, 1820, mother having no more
brothers, my father succeeded in his original purpose, and named me
William Tecumseh.

The family rapidly increased till it embraced six boys and five
girls, all of whom attained maturity and married; of these six are
still living.

In the year 1821 a vacancy occurred in the Supreme Court of Ohio,
and I find this petition:


Somerset, Ohio, July 6, 1821.

May it please your Excellency:

We ask leave to recommend to your Excellency's favorable notice
Charles R. Sherman, Esq., of Lancaster, as a man possessing in an
eminent degree those qualifications so much to be desired in a
Judge of the Supreme Court.

From a long acquaintance with Mr. Sherman, we are happy to be able
to state to your Excellency that our minds are led to the
conclusion that that gentleman possesses a disposition noble and
generous, a mind discriminating, comprehensive, and combining a
heart pure, benevolent and humane.  Manners dignified, mild, and
complaisant, and a firmness not to be shaken and of unquestioned
integrity.

But Mr. Sherman's character cannot be unknown to your Excellency,
and on that acquaintance without further comment we might safely
rest his pretensions.

We think we hazard little in assuring your Excellency that his
appointment would give almost universal satisfaction to the
citizens of Perry County.

With great consideration, we have the honor to be

Your Excellency's most obedient humble servants,
CHARLES A. HOOD,
GEORGE TREAT,
PETER DITTOR,
P. ODLIN,
J. B. ORTEN,
T. BECKWITH,
WILLIAM P. DORST,
JOHN MURRAY,
JACOB MOINS,
B. EATON,
DANIEL GRIGGS,
HENRY DITTOE,
NICHOLAS McCARTY.



His Excellency ETHAN A. BROWN,
Governor of Ohio, Columbus.


He was soon after appointed a Judge of the Supreme Court, and
served in that capacity to the day of his death.

My memory extends back to about 1827, and I recall him, returning
home on horseback, when all the boys used to run and contend for
the privilege of riding his horse from the front door back to the
stable.  On one occasion, I was the first, and being mounted rode
to the stable; but "Old Dick" was impatient because the stable-door
was not opened promptly, so he started for the barn of our neighbor
Mr. King; there, also, no one was in waiting to open the gate, and,
after a reasonable time, "Dick" started back for home somewhat in a
hurry, and threw me among a pile of stones, in front of preacher
Wright's house, where I was picked up apparently a dead boy; but my
time was not yet, and I recovered, though the scars remain to this
day.

The year 1829 was a sad one to our family.  We were then ten
children, my eldest brother Charles absent at the State University,
Athens, Ohio; my next brother, James, in a store at Cincinnati; and
the rest were at home, at school.  Father was away on the circuit.
One day Jane Sturgeon came to the school, called us out, and when
we reached home all was lamentation: news had come that father was
ill unto death, at Lebanon, a hundred miles away.  Mother started
at once, by coach, but met the news of his death about Washington,
and returned home.  He had ridden on horseback from Cincinnati to
Lebanon to hold court, during a hot day in June.  On the next day
he took his seat on the bench, opened court in the forenoon, but in
the afternoon, after recess, was seized with a severe chill and had
to adjourn the court.  The best medical aid was called in, and for
three days with apparent success, but the fever then assumed a more
dangerous type, and he gradually yielded to it, dying on the sixth
day, viz., June 24, 1829.

My brother James had been summoned from Cincinnati, and was present
at his bedside, as was also Henry Stoddard, Esq., of Dayton, Ohio,
our cousin.  Mr. Stoddard once told me that the cause of my
father's death was cholera; but at that time, 1829, there was no
Asiatic cholera in the United States, and the family, attributed
his death to exposure to the hot sun of June, and a consequent
fever, "typhoid."

From the resolutions of the bench, bar, and public generally, now
in my possession, his death was universally deplored; more
especially by his neighbors in Lancaster, and by the Society of
Freemasons, of which he was the High-Priest of Arch Chapter No. 11.


His death left the family very poor, but friends rose up with
proffers of generous care and assistance; for all the neighbors
knew that mother could not maintain so large a family without help.
My eldest brother, Charles, had nearly completed his education at
the university at Athens, and concluded to go to his uncle, Judge
Parker, at Mansfield, Ohio, to study law.  My, eldest sister,
Elizabeth, soon after married William J. Reese, Esq.; James was
already in a store at Cincinnati; and, with the exception of the
three youngest children, the rest of us were scattered.  I fell to
the charge of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, who took me to his family, and
ever after treated me as his own son.

I continued at the Academy in Lancaster, which was the best in the
place; indeed, as good a school as any in Ohio.  We studied all the
common branches of knowledge, including Latin, Greek, and French.
At first the school was kept by Mr. Parsons; he was succeeded by
Mr. Brown, and he by two brothers, Samuel and Mark How.  These were
all excellent teachers, and we made good progress, first at the old
academy and afterward at a new school-house, built by Samuel How,
in the orchard of Hugh Boyle, Esq.

Time passed with us as with boys generally.  Mr. Ewing was in the
United States Senate, and I was notified to prepare for West Point,
of which institution we had little knowledge, except that it was
very strict, and that the army was its natural consequence.  In
1834 I was large for my age, and the construction of canals was the
rage in Ohio.  A canal was projected to connect with the great Ohio
Canal at Carroll (eight miles above Lancaster), down the valley of
the Hock Hocking to Athens (forty-four miles), and thence to the
Ohio River by slack water.

Preacher Carpenter, of Lancaster, was appointed to make the
preliminary surveys, and selected the necessary working party out
of the boys of the town.  From our school were chosen ____Wilson,
Emanuel Geisy, William King, and myself.  Geisy and I were the
rod-men.  We worked during that fall and next spring, marking two
experimental lines, and for our work we each received a silver
half-dollar for each day's actual work, the first money any of us
had ever earned.

In June, 1835, one of our school-fellows, William Irvin, was
appointed a cadet to West Point, and, as it required sixteen years
of age for admission, I had to wait another year.  During the
autumn of 1835 and spring of 1836 I devoted myself chiefly to
mathematics and French, which were known to be the chief requisites
for admission to West Point.

Some time in the spring of 1836 I received through Mr. Ewing, then
at Washington, from the Secretary of War, Mr. Poinsett, the letter
of appointment as a cadet, with a list of the articles of clothing
necessary to be taken along, all of which were liberally provided
by Mrs. Ewing; and with orders to report to Mr. Ewing, at
Washington, by a certain date, I left Lancaster about the 20th of
May in the stage-coach for Zanesville.  There we transferred to the
coaches of the Great National Road, the highway of travel from the
West to the East.  The stages generally travelled in gangs of from
one to six coaches, each drawn by four good horses, carrying nine
passengers inside and three or four outside.

In about three days, travelling day and night, we reached
Frederick, Maryland.  There we were told that we could take
rail-cars to Baltimore, and thence to Washington; but there was
also a two-horse hack ready to start for Washington direct.  Not
having full faith in the novel and dangerous railroad, I stuck to
the coach, and in the night reached Gadsby's Hotel in Washington
City.

The next morning I hunted up Mr. Ewing, and found him boarding with
a mess of Senators at Mrs. Hill's, corner of Third and C Streets,
and transferred my trunk to the same place.  I spent a week in
Washington, and think I saw more of the place in that time than I
ever have since in the many years of residence there.  General
Jackson was President, and was at the zenith of his fame.  I recall
looking at him a full hour, one morning, through the wood railing
on Pennsylvania Avenue, as he paced up and down the gravel walk on
the north front of the White House.  He wore a cap and an overcoat
so full that his form seemed smaller than I had expected.  I also
recall the appearance of Postmaster-General Amos Kendall, of
Vice-President Van Buren, Messrs. Calhoun, Webster, Clay, Cass,
Silas Wright, etc.

In due time I took my departure for West Point with Cadets Belt and
Bronaugh.  These were appointed cadets as from Ohio, although
neither had ever seen that State.  But in those days there were
fewer applicants from Ohio than now, and near the close of the term
the vacancies unasked for were usually filled from applicants on
the spot.  Neither of these parties, however, graduated, so the
State of Ohio lost nothing.  We went to Baltimore by rail, there
took a boat up to Havre de Grace, then the rail to Wilmington,
Delaware, and up the Delaware in a boat to Philadelphia.  I staid
over in Philadelphia one day at the old Mansion House, to visit the
family of my brother-in-law, Mr. Reese.  I found his father a fine
sample of the old merchant gentleman, in a good house in Arch
Street, with his accomplished daughters, who had been to Ohio, and
whom I had seen there.  From Philadelphia we took boat to
Bordentown, rail to Amboy, and boat again to New York City,
stopping at the American Hotel.  I staid a week in New York City,
visiting my uncle, Charles Hoyt, at his beautiful place on Brooklyn
Heights, and my uncle James, then living in White Street.  My
friend William Scott was there, the young husband of my cousin,
Louise Hoyt; a neatly-dressed young fellow, who looked on me as an
untamed animal just caught in the far West--"fit food for
gunpowder," and good for nothing else.

About June 12th I embarked in the steamer Cornelius Vanderbilt for
West Point; registered in the office of Lieutenant C. F. Smith,
Adjutant of the Military Academy, as a new cadet of the class of
1836, and at once became installed as the "plebe" of my
fellow-townsman, William Irvin, then entering his Third Class.

Colonel R. E. De Russy was Superintendent; Major John Fowle, Sixth
United States Infantry, Commandant.  The principal Professors were:
Mahan, Engineering; Bartlett, Natural Philosophy; Bailey,
Chemistry; Church, Mathematics; Weir, Drawing; and Berard, French.

The routine of military training and of instruction was then fully
established, and has remained almost the same ever since.  To give
a mere outline would swell this to an inconvenient size, and I
therefore merely state that I went through the regular course of
four years, graduating in June, 1840, number six in a class of
forty-three.  These forty-three were all that remained of more than
one hundred which originally constituted the class.  At the Academy
I was not considered a good soldier, for at no time was I selected
for any office, but remained a private throughout the whole four
years.  Then, as now, neatness in dress and form, with a strict
conformity to the rules, were the qualifications required for
office, and I suppose I was found not to excel in any of these.  In
studies I always held a respectable reputation with the professors,
and generally ranked among the best, especially in drawing,
chemistry, mathematics, and natural philosophy.  My average
demerits, per annum, were about one hundred and fifty, which.
reduced my final class standing from number four to six.

In June, 1840, after the final examination, the class graduated and
we received our diplomas.  Meantime, Major Delafield, United States
Engineers, had become Superintendent; Major C. F. Smith, Commandant
of Cadets; but the corps of professors and assistants remained
almost unchanged during our whole term.  We were all granted the
usual furlough of three months, and parted for our homes, there to
await assignment to our respective corps and regiments.  In due
season I was appointed and commissioned second-lieutenant, Third
Artillery, and ordered to report at Governor's Island, New York
Harbor, at the end of September.  I spent my furlough mostly at
Lancaster and Mansfield, Ohio; toward the close of September
returned to New York, reported to Major Justin Dimock, commanding
the recruiting rendezvous at Governor's Island, and was assigned to
command a company of recruits preparing for service in Florida.
Early in October this company was detailed, as one of four, to
embark in a sailing-vessel for Savannah, Georgia, under command of
Captain and Brevet Major Penrose.  We embarked and sailed, reaching
Savannah about the middle of October, where we transferred to a
small steamer and proceeded by the inland route to St. Augustine,
Florida.  We reached St. Augustine at the same time with the Eighth
Infantry, commanded by Colonel and Brevet Brigadier-General William
J. Worth.  At that time General Zachary Taylor was in chief command
in Florida, and had his headquarters at Tampa Bay.  My regiment,
the Third Artillery, occupied the posts along the Atlantic coast of
Florida, from St. Augustine south to Key Biscayne, and my own
company, A, was at Fort Pierce, Indian River.  At St. Augustine I
was detached from the company of recruits, which was designed for
the Second Infantry, and was ordered to join my proper company at
Fort Pierce.  Colonel William Gates commanded the regiment, with
Lieutenant William Austine Brown as adjutant of the regiment.
Lieutenant Bragg commanded the post of St. Augustine with his own
company, E, and G (Garner's), then commanded by Lieutenant Judd.
In, a few days I embarked in the little steamer William Gaston down
the coast, stopping one day at New Smyrna, held by John R. Vinton's
company (B), with which was serving Lieutenant William H. Shover.

In due season we arrived off the bar of Indian River and anchored.
A whale-boat came off with a crew of four men, steered by a
character of some note, known as the Pilot Ashlock.  I transferred
self and baggage to this boat, and, with the mails, was carried
through the surf over the bar, into the mouth of Indian River
Inlet.  It was then dark; we transferred to a smaller boat, and the
same crew pulled us up through a channel in the middle of Mangrove
Islands, the roosting-place of thousands of pelicans and birds that
rose in clouds and circled above our heads.  The water below was
alive with fish, whose course through it could be seen by the
phosphoric wake; and Ashlock told me many a tale of the Indian war
then in progress, and of his adventures in hunting and fishing,
which he described as the best in the world.  About two miles from
the bar, we emerged into the lagoon, a broad expanse of shallow
water that lies parallel with the coast, separated from it by a
narrow strip of sand, backed by a continuous series of islands and
promontories, covered with a dense growth of mangrove and
saw-palmetto.  Pulling across this lagoon, in about three more
miles we approached the lights of Fort Pierce.  Reaching a
small wharf, we landed, and were met by the officers of the
post, Lieutenants George Taylor and Edward J. Steptoe, and
Assistant-Surgeon James Simons.  Taking the mail-bag, we walked up
a steep sand-bluff on which the fort was situated, and across the
parade-ground to the officers' quarters.  These were six or seven
log-houses, thatched with palmetto-leaves, built on high posts,
with a porch in front, facing the water.  The men's quarters were
also of logs forming the two sides of a rectangle, open toward the
water; the intervals and flanks were closed with log stockades.  I
was assigned to one of these rooms, and at once began service with
my company, A, then commanded by Lieutenant Taylor.

The season was hardly yet come for active operations against the
Indians, so that the officers were naturally attracted to Ashlock,
who was the best fisherman I ever saw.  He soon initiated us into
the mysteries of shark-spearing, trolling for red-fish, and taking
the sheep's-head and mullet.  These abounded so that we could at
any time catch an unlimited quantity at pleasure.  The companies
also owned nets for catching green turtles.  These nets had meshes
about a foot square, were set across channels in the lagoon, the
ends secured to stakes driven into the mad, the lower line sunk
with lead or stone weights and the upper line floated with cork.
We usually visited these nets twice a day, and found from one to
six green turtles entangled in the meshes.  Disengaging them, they
were carried to pens, made with stakes stuck in the mud, where they
were fed with mangrove-leaves, and our cooks had at all times an
ample supply of the best of green turtles.  They were so cheap and
common that the soldiers regarded it as an imposition when
compelled to eat green turtle steaks, instead of poor Florida beef,
or the usual barrelled mess-pork.  I do not recall in my whole
experience a spot on earth where fish, oysters, and green turtles
so abound as at Fort Pierce, Florida.

In November, Major Childs arrived with Lieutenant Van Vliet and a
detachment of recruits to fill our two companies, and preparations
were at once begun for active operations in the field.  At that
time the Indians in the Peninsula of Florida were scattered, and
the war consisted in hunting up and securing the small fragments,
to be sent to join the others of their tribe of Seminoles already
established in the Indian Territory west of Arkansas.  Our
expeditions were mostly made in boats in the lagoons extending from
the "Haul-over," near two hundred miles above the fort, down to
Jupiter Inlet, about fifty miles below, and in the many streams
which emptied therein.  Many such expeditions were made during that
winter, with more or less success, in which we succeeded in picking
up small parties of men, women, and children.  On one occasion,
near the "Haul-over," when I was not present, the expedition was
more successful.  It struck a party of nearly fifty Indians, killed
several warriors, and captured others.  In this expedition my
classmate, lieutenant Van Vliet, who was an excellent shot, killed
a warrior who was running at full speed among trees, and one of the
sergeants of our company (Broderick) was said to have dispatched
three warriors, and it was reported that he took the scalp of one
and brought it in to the fort as a trophy.  Broderick was so elated
that, on reaching the post, he had to celebrate his victory by a
big drunk.

There was at the time a poor, weakly soldier of our company whose
wife cooked for our mess.  She was somewhat of a flirt, and rather
fond of admiration.  Sergeant Broderick was attracted to her, and
hung around the mess-house more than the husband fancied; so he
reported the matter to Lieutenant Taylor, who reproved Broderick
for his behavior.  A few days afterward the husband again appealed
to his commanding officer (Taylor), who exclaimed: "Haven't you got
a musket?  Can't you defend your own family?"  Very soon after a
shot was heard down by the mess-house, and it transpired that the
husband had actually shot Broderick, inflicting a wound which
proved mortal.  The law and army regulations required that the man
should be sent to the nearest civil court, which was at St.
Augustine; accordingly, the prisoner and necessary witnesses were
sent up by the next monthly steamer.  Among the latter were
lieutenant Taylor and the pilot Ashlock.

After they had been gone about a month, the sentinel on the roof-top
of our quarters reported the smoke of a steamer approaching the bar,
and, as I was acting quartermaster, I took a boat and pulled down to
get the mail.  I reached the log-but in which the pilots lived, and
saw them start with their boat across the bar, board the steamer,
and then return.  Ashlock was at his old post at the steering-oar,
with two ladies, who soon came to the landing, having passed through
a very heavy surf, and I was presented to one as Mrs. Ashlock, and
the other as her sister, a very pretty little Minorcan girl of about
fourteen years of age.  Mrs. Ashlock herself was probably eighteen
or twenty years old, and a very handsome woman.  I was hurriedly
informed that the murder trial was in progress at St. Augustine;
that Ashlock had given his testimony, and had availed himself of the
chance to take a wife to share with him the solitude of his desolate
hut on the beach at Indian River. He had brought ashore his wife,
her sister, and their chests, with the mail, and had orders to
return immediately to the steamer (Gaston or Harney) to bring ashore
some soldiers belonging to another company, E (Braggs), which had
been ordered from St. Augustine to Fort Pierce.  Ashlock left his
wife and her sister standing on the beach near the pilot-hut, and
started back with his whale-boat across the bar.  I also took the
mail and started up to the fort, and had hardly reached the wharf
when I observed another boat following me.  As soon as this reached
the wharf the men reported that Ashlock and all his crew, with the
exception of one man, had been drowned a few minutes after I had
left the beach. They said his surf-boat had reached the steamer, had
taken on board a load of soldiers, some eight or ten, and had
started back through the surf, when on the bar a heavy breaker upset
the boat, and all were lost except the boy who pulled the bow-oar,
who clung to the rope or painter, hauled himself to the upset boat,
held on, drifted with it outside the breakers, and was finally
beached near a mile down the coast. They reported also that the
steamer had got up anchor, run in as close to the bar as she could,
paused awhile, and then had started down the coast.

I instantly took a fresh crew of soldiers and returned to the bar;
there sat poor Mrs. Ashlock on her chest of clothes, a weeping
widow, who had seen her husband perish amid sharks and waves; she
clung to the hope that the steamer had picked him up, but, strange
to say, he could not swim, although he had been employed on the
water all his life.

Her sister was more demonstrative, and wailed as one lost to all
hope and life.  She appealed to us all to do miracles to save the
struggling men in the waves, though two hours had already passed,
and to have gone out then among those heavy breakers, with an
inexperienced crew, would have been worse than suicide.  All I
could do was to reorganize the guard at the beach, take the two
desolate females up to the fort, and give them the use of my own
quarters.  Very soon their anguish was quieted, and they began to
look, for the return of their steamer with Ashlock and his rescued
crew.  The next day I went again to the beach with Lieutenant Ord,
and we found that one or two bodies had been washed ashore, torn
all to pieces by the sharks, which literally swarmed the inlet at
every new tide.  In a few days the weather moderated, and the
steamer returned from the south, but the surf was so high that she
anchored a mile off.  I went out myself, in the whale or surf boat,
over that terrible bar with a crew of, soldiers, boarded the
steamer, and learned that none other of Ashlock's crew except the
one before mentioned had been saved; but, on the contrary, the
captain of the steamer had sent one of his own boats to their
rescue, which was likewise upset in the surf, and, out of the three
men in her, one had drifted back outside the breakers, clinging to
the upturned boat, and was picked up.  This sad and fatal
catastrophe made us all afraid of that bar, and in returning to the
shore I adopted the more prudent course of beaching the boat below
the inlet, which insured us a good ducking, but was attended with
less risk to life.

I had to return to the fort and bear to Mrs. Ashlock the absolute
truth, that her husband was lost forever.

Meantime her sister had entirely recovered her equilibrium, and
being the guest of the officers, who were extremely courteous to
her, she did not lament so loudly the calamity that saved them a
long life of banishment on the beach of Indian River.  By the first
opportunity they were sent back to St. Augustine, the possessors of
all of Ashlock's worldly goods and effects, consisting of a good
rifle, several cast-nets, hand-lines, etc., etc., besides some
three hundred dollars in money, which was due him by the
quartermaster for his services as pilot.  I afterward saw these
ladies at St. Augustine, and years afterward the younger one came
to Charleston, South Carolina, the wife of the somewhat famous
Captain Thistle, agent for the United States for live-oak in
Florida, who was noted as the first of the troublesome class of
inventors of modern artillery.  He was the inventor of a gun that
"did not recoil at all," or "if anything it recoiled a little
forward."

One day, in the summer of 1841, the sentinel on the housetop at
Fort Pierce called out, "Indians!  Indians!" Everybody sprang to
his gun, the companies formed promptly on the parade-ground, and
soon were reported as approaching the post, from the pine-woods in
rear, four Indians on horseback.  They rode straight up to the
gateway, dismounted, and came in.  They were conducted by the
officer of the day to the commanding officer, Major Childs, who sat
on the porch in front of his own room.  After the usual pause, one
of them, a black man named Joe, who spoke English, said they had
been sent in by Coacoochee (Wild Cat), one of the most noted of the
Seminole chiefs, to see the big chief of the post.  He gradually
unwrapped a piece of paper, which was passed over to Major Childs,
who read it, and it was in the nature of a "Safe Guard" for "Wild
Cat" to come into Fort Pierce to receive provisions and assistance
while collecting his tribe, with the purpose of emigrating to their
reservation west of Arkansas.  The paper was signed by General
Worth, who had succeeded General Taylor, at Tampa Bay, in command
of all the troops in Florida.  Major Childs inquired, "Where is
Coacoochee?" and was answered, "Close by," when Joe explained that
he had been sent in by his chief to see if the paper was all right.
Major Childs said it was "all right," and that Coacoochee ought to
come in himself.  Joe offered to go out and bring him in, when
Major Childs ordered me to take eight or ten mounted men and go out
to escort him in.  Detailing ten men to saddle up, and taking Joe
and one Indian boy along on their own ponies, I started out under
their guidance.

We continued to ride five or six miles, when I began to suspect
treachery, of which I had heard so much in former years, and had
been specially cautioned against by the older officers; but Joe
always answered, "Only a little way."   At last we approached one
of those close hammocks, so well known in Florida, standing like an
island in the interminable pine-forest, with a pond of water near
it.  On its edge I noticed a few Indians loitering, which Joe
pointed out as the place.  Apprehensive of treachery, I halted the
guard, gave orders to the sergeant to watch me closely, and rode
forward alone with the two Indian guides.  As we neared the
hammock, about a dozen Indian warriors rose up and waited for us.
When in their midst I inquired for the chief, Coacoochee.  He
approached my horse and, slapping his breast, said, "Me
Coacoochee."  He was a very handsome young Indian warrior, not more
than twenty-five years old, but in his then dress could hardly be
distinguished from the rest.  I then explained to him, through Joe,
that I had been sent by my "chief" to escort him into the fort.  He
wanted me to get down and "talk" I told him that I had no "talk" in
me, but that, on his reaching the post, he could talk as much as he
pleased with the "big chief," Major Childs.  They all seemed to be
indifferent, and in no hurry; and I noticed that all their guns
were leaning against a tree.  I beckoned to the sergeant, who
advanced rapidly with his escort, and told him to secure the
rifles, which he proceeded to do.  Coacoochee pretended to be very
angry, but I explained to him that his warriors were tired and mine
were not, and that the soldiers would carry the guns on their
horses.  I told him I would provide him a horse to ride, and the
sooner he was ready the better for all.  He then stripped, washed
himself in the pond, and began to dress in all his Indian finery,
which consisted of buckskin leggins, moccasins, and several shirts.
He then began to put on vests, one after another, and one of them
had the marks of a bullet, just above the pocket, with the stain of
blood.  In the pocket was a one-dollar Tallahassee Bank note, and
the rascal had the impudence to ask me to give him silver coin for
that dollar.  He had evidently killed the wearer, and was
disappointed because the pocket contained a paper dollar instead of
one in silver.  In due time he was dressed with turban and
ostrich-feathers, and mounted the horse reserved for him, and thus
we rode back together to Fort Pierce.  Major Childs and all the
officers received him on the porch, and there we had a regular
"talk."  Coacoochee "was tired of the war."  "His people were
scattered and it would take a 'moon' to collect them for
emigration," and he "wanted rations for that time," etc., etc.

All this was agreed to, and a month was allowed for him to get
ready with his whole band (numbering some one hundred and fifty or
one hundred and sixty) to migrate.  The "talk" then ceased, and
Coacoochee and his envoys proceeded to get regularly drunk, which
was easily done by the agency of commissary whiskey.  They staid at
Fort Pierce daring the night, and the next day departed.  Several
times during the month there came into the post two or more of
these same Indians, always to beg for something to eat or drink,
and after a full month Coacoochee and about twenty of his warriors
came in with several ponies, but with none of their women or
children.  Major Childs had not from the beginning the least faith
in his sincerity; had made up his mind to seize the whole party and
compel them to emigrate.  He arranged for the usual council, and
instructed Lieutenant Taylor to invite Coacoochee and his uncle
(who was held to be a principal chief) to his room to take some
good brandy, instead of the common commissary whiskey.  At a signal
agreed on I was to go to the quarters of Company A, to dispatch the
first-sergeant and another man to Lieutenant Taylor's room, there
to seize the two chiefs and secure them; and with the company I was
to enter Major Childs's room and secure the remainder of the party.
Meantime Lieutenant Van Vliet was ordered to go to the quarters of
his company, F, and at the same signal to march rapidly to the rear
of the officers' quarters, so as to catch any who might attempt to
escape by the open windows to the rear.

All resulted exactly as prearranged, and in a few minutes the whole
party was in irons.  At first they claimed that we had acted
treacherously, but very soon they admitted that for a month
Coacoochee had been quietly removing his women and children toward
Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades; and that this visit to our post
was to have been their last.  It so happened that almost at the
instant of our seizing these Indians a vessel arrived off the bar
with reenforcements from St. Augustine.  These were brought up to
Fort Pierce, and we marched that night and next day rapidly, some
fifty miles, to Lake Okeechobee, in hopes to capture the balance of
the tribe, especially the families, but they had taken the alarm
and escaped.  Coacoochee and his warriors were sent by Major Childs
in a schooner to New Orleans en route to their reservation, but
General Worth recalled them to Tampa Bay, and by sending out
Coacoochee himself the women and children came in voluntarily, and
then all were shipped to their destination.  This was a heavy loss
to the Seminoles, but there still remained in the Peninsula a few
hundred warriors with their families scattered into very small
parcels, who were concealed in the most inaccessible hammocks and
swamps.  These had no difficulty in finding plenty of food anywhere
and everywhere.  Deer and wild turkey were abundant, and as for
fish there was no end to them.  Indeed, Florida was the Indian's
paradise, was of little value to us, and it was a great pity to
remove the Seminoles at all, for we could have collected there all
the Choctaws, Creeks, Cherokees, and Chickasaws, in addition to the
Seminoles.  They would have thrived in the Peninsula, whereas they
now occupy lands that are very valuable, which are coveted by their
white neighbors on all sides, while the Peninsula, of Florida still
remains with a population less than should make a good State.

During that and preceding years General W. S. Harney had penetrated
and crossed through the Everglades, capturing and hanging Chekika
and his band, and had brought in many prisoners, who were also
shipped West.  We at Fort Pierce made several other excursions to
Jupiter, Lake Worth, Lauderdale, and into the Everglades, picking
up here and there a family, so that it was absurd any longer to
call it a "war."  These excursions, however, possessed to us a
peculiar charm, for the fragrance of the air, the abundance of game
and fish, and just enough of adventure, gave to life a relish.  I
had just returned to Lauderdale from one of these scouts with
Lieutenants Rankin, Ord, George H. Thomas, Field, Van Vliet, and
others, when I received notice of my promotion to be first
lieutenant of Company G, which occurred November 30, 1841, and I
was ordered to return to Fort Pierce, turn over the public property
for which I was accountable to Lieutenant H. S. Burton, and then to
join my new company at St. Augustine.

I reached St. Augustine before Christmas, and was assigned to
command a detachment of twenty men stationed at Picolata, on the
St. John's River, eighteen miles distant.  At St. Augustine were
still the headquarters of the regiment, Colonel William Gates, with
Company E, Lieutenant Bragg, and Company G, Lieutenant H. B. Judd.
The only buildings at Picolata were the one occupied by my
detachment, which had been built for a hospital, and the dwelling
of a family named Williams, with whom I boarded.  On the other
hand, St. Augustine had many pleasant families, among whom was
prominent that of United States Judge Bronson.  I was half my time
in St. Augustine or on the road, and remember the old place with
pleasure.  In February we received orders transferring the whole
regiment to the Gulf posts, and our company, G, was ordered to
escort Colonel Gates and his family across to the Suwanee River, en
route for Pensacola.  The company, with the colonel and his family,
reached Picolata (where my detachment joined), and we embarked in a
steamboat for Pilatka.  Here Lieutenant Judd discovered that he had
forgotten something and had to return to St. Augustine, so
that I commanded the company on the march, having with me
Second-Lieutenant George B. Ayres.  Our first march was to Fort
Russell, then Micanopy, Wacahoota, and Wacasassee, all which posts
were garrisoned by the Second or Seventh Infantry.  At Wacasassee we
met General Worth and his staff, en route for Pilatka.  Lieutenant
Judd overtook us about the Suwanee, where we embarked on a small
boat for Cedar Keys, and there took a larger one for Pensacola,
where the colonel and his family landed, and our company proceeded
on in the same vessel to our post--Fort Morgan, Mobile Point.

This fort had not been occupied by troops for many years, was very
dirty, and we found little or no stores there.  Major Ogden, of the
engineers, occupied a house outside the fort.  I was quartermaster
and commissary, and, taking advantage of one of the engineer
schooners engaged in bringing materials for the fort, I went up to
Mobile city, and, through the agency of Messrs.  Deshon, Taylor,
and Myers, merchants, procured all essentials for the troops, and
returned to the post.  In the course of a week or ten days arrived
another company, H, commanded by Lieutenant James Ketchum, with
Lieutenants Rankin and Sewall L. Fish, and an assistant surgeon
(Wells.)  Ketchum became the commanding officer, and Lieutenant
Rankin quartermaster.  We proceeded to put the post in as good
order as possible; had regular guard-mounting and parades, but
little drill.  We found magnificent fishing with the seine on the
outer beach, and sometimes in a single haul we would take ten or
fifteen barrels of the best kind of fish, embracing pompinos,
red-fish, snappers, etc.

We remained there till June, when the regiment was ordered to
exchange from the Gulf posts to those on the Atlantic, extending
from Savannah to North Carolina.  The brig Wetumpka was chartered,
and our company (G) embarked and sailed to Pensacola, where we took
on board another company (D) (Burke's), commanded by Lieutenant H.
S. Burton, with Colonel Gates, the regimental headquarters, and
some families.  From Pensacola we sailed for Charleston, South
Carolina.  The weather was hot, the winds light, and we made a long
passage but at last reached Charleston Harbor, disembarked, and
took post in Fort Moultrie.

Soon after two other companies arrived, Bragg's (B) and Keyes's
(K).  The two former companies were already quartered inside of
Fort Moultrie, and these latter were placed in gun-sheds, outside,
which were altered into barracks.  We remained at Fort Moultrie
nearly five years, until the Mexican War scattered us forever.  Our
life there was of strict garrison duty, with plenty of leisure for
hunting and social entertainments.  We soon formed many and most
pleasant acquaintances in the city of Charleston; and it so
happened that many of the families resided at Sullivan's Island in
the summer season, where we could reciprocate the hospitalities
extended to us in the winter.

During the summer of 1843, having been continuously on duty for
three years, I applied for and received a leave of absence for
three months, which I spent mostly in Ohio.  In November I started
to return to my post at Charleston by way of New Orleans; took the
stage to Chillicothe, Ohio, November 16th, having Henry Stanberry,
Esq., and wife, as travelling companions, We continued by stage.
next day to Portsmouth, Ohio.

At Portsmouth Mr. Stanberry took a boat up the river, and I one
down to Cincinnati.  There I found my brothers Lampson and Hoyt
employed in the "Gazette" printing-office, and spent much time with
them and Charles Anderson, Esq., visiting his brother Larz, Mr.
Longworth, some of his artist friends, and especially Miss Sallie
Carneal, then quite a belle, and noted for her fine voice,

On the 20th I took passage on the steamboat Manhattan for St.
Louis; reached Louisville, where Dr. Conrad, of the army, joined
me, and in the Manhattan we continued on to St. Louis, with a mixed
crowd.  We reached the Mississippi at Cairo the 23d, and St. Louis,
Friday, November 24, 1843.  At St. Louis we called on Colonel S. W.
Kearney and Major Cooper, his adjutant-general, and found my
classmate, Lieutenant McNutt, of the ordnance, stationed at the
arsenal; also Mr. Deas, an artist, and Pacificus Ord, who was
studying law.  I spent a week at St. Louis, visiting the arsenal,
Jefferson Barracks, and most places of interest, and then became
impressed with its great future.  It then contained about forty
thousand people, and my notes describe thirty-six good steamboats
receiving and discharging cargo at the levee.

I took passage December 4th in the steamer John Aull for New
Orleans.  As we passed Cairo the snow was falling, and the country
was wintery and devoid of verdure.  Gradually, however, as we
proceeded south, the green color came; grass and trees showed the
change of latitude, and when in the course of a week we had reached
New Orleans, the roses were in full bloom, the sugar-cane just
ripe, and a tropical air prevalent.  We reached New Orleans
December 11, 1843, where I spent about a week visiting the
barracks, then occupied by the Seventh Infantry; the theatres,
hotels, and all the usual places of interest of that day.

On the 16th of December I continued on to Mobile in the steamer
Fashion by way of Lake Pontchartrain; saw there most of my personal
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bull, Judge Bragg and his brother Dunbar,
Deshon, Taylor, and Myers, etc., and on the 19th of December took
passage in the steamboat Bourbon for Montgomery, Alabama, by way of
the Alabama River.  We reached Montgomery at noon, December 23d,
and took cars at 1 p. m. for Franklin, forty miles, which we reached
at 7 p. m., thence stages for Griffin, Georgia, via La Grange and
Greenville.  This took the whole night of the 23d and the day of
the 24th.  At Griffin we took cars for Macon, and thence to
Savannah, which we reached Christmas-night, finding Lieutenants
Ridgley and Ketchum at tea, where we were soon joined by Rankin and
Beckwith.

On the 26th I took the boat for Charleston, reaching my post, and
reported for duty Wednesday morning, December 27, 1843.

I had hardly got back to my post when, on the 21st of January,
1844, I received from Lieutenant R. P. Hammond, at Marietta,
Georgia, an intimation that Colonel Churchill, Inspector-General of
the Army, had applied for me to assist him in taking depositions in
upper Georgia and Alabama; concerning certain losses by volunteers
in Florida of horses and equipments by reason of the failure of the
United States to provide sufficient forage, and for which Congress
had made an appropriation.  On the 4th of February the order came
from the Adjutant-General in Washington for me to proceed to
Marietta, Georgia, and report to Inspector-General Churchill.  I
was delayed till the 14th of February by reason of being on a
court-martial, when I was duly relieved and started by rail to
Augusta, Georgia, and as far as Madison, where I took the
mail-coach, reaching Marietta on the 17th.  There I reported for
duty to Colonel Churchill, who was already engaged on his work,
assisted by Lieutenant R. P. Hammond, Third Artillery, and a
citizen named Stockton.  The colonel had his family with him,
consisting of Mrs. Churchill, Mary, now Mrs. Professor Baird, and
Charles Churchill, then a boy of about fifteen years of age.

We all lived in a tavern, and had an office convenient.  The duty
consisted in taking individual depositions of the officers and men
who had composed two regiments and a battalion of mounted
volunteers that had served in Florida.  An oath was administered to
each man by Colonel Churchill, who then turned the claimant over to
one of us to take down and record his deposition according to
certain forms, which enabled them to be consolidated and tabulated.
We remained in Marietta about six weeks, during which time I
repeatedly rode to Kenesaw Mountain, and over the very ground where
afterward, in 1864, we had some hard battles.

After closing our business at Marietta the colonel ordered us to
transfer our operations to Bellefonte, Alabama.  As he proposed to
take his family and party by the stage, Hammond lent me his
riding-horse, which I rode to Allatoona and the Etowah River.
Hearing of certain large Indian mounds near the way, I turned to
one side to visit them, stopping a couple of days with Colonel
Lewis Tumlin, on whose plantation these mounds were.  We struck up
such an acquaintance that we corresponded for some years, and as I
passed his plantation during the war, in 1864, I inquired for him,
but he was not at home.  From Tumlin's I rode to Rome, and by way
of Wills Valley over Sand Mountain and the Raccoon Range to the
Tennessee River at Bellefonte, Alabama.  We all assembled there in
March, and continued our work for nearly two months, when, having
completed the business, Colonel Churchill, with his family, went
North by way of Nashville; Hammond, Stockton, and I returning South
on horseback, by Rome, Allatoona, Marietta, Atlanta, and Madison,
Georgia.  Stockton stopped at Marietta, where he resided.  Hammond
took the cars at Madison, and I rode alone to Augusta, Georgia,
where I left the horse and returned to Charleston and Fort Moultrie
by rail.

Thus by a mere accident I was enabled to traverse on horseback the
very ground where in after-years I had to conduct vast armies and
fight great battles.  That the knowledge thus acquired was of
infinite use to me, and consequently to the Government, I have
always felt and stated.

During the autumn of 1844, a difficulty arose among the officers of
Company B, Third Artillery (John R. Yinton's), garrisoning Augusta
Arsenal, and I was sent up from Fort Moultrie as a sort of
peace-maker.  After staying there some months, certain transfers of
officers were made, which reconciled the difficulty, and I returned
to my post, Fort Moultrie.  During that winter, 1844-'45, I was
visiting at the plantation of Mr. Poyas, on the east branch of the
Cooper, about fifty miles from Fort Moultrie, hunting deer with his
son James, and Lieutenant John F. Reynolds, Third Artillery.  We
had taken our stands, and a deer came out of the swamp near that of
Mr. James Poyas, who fired, broke the leg of the deer, which turned
back into the swamp and came out again above mine.  I could follow
his course by the cry of the hounds, which were in close pursuit.
Hastily mounting my horse, I struck across the pine-woods to head
the deer off, and when at full career my horse leaped a fallen log
and his fore-foot caught one of those hard, unyielding pineknots
that brought him with violence to the ground.  I got up as quick as
possible, and found my right arm out of place at the shoulder,
caused by the weight of the double-barrelled gun.

Seeing Reynolds at some distance, I called out lustily and brought
him to me.  He soon mended the bridle and saddle, which had been
broken by the fall, helped me on my horse, and we followed the
coarse of the hounds.  At first my arm did not pain me much, but it
soon began to ache so that it was almost unendurable.  In about
three miles we came to a negro hut, where I got off and rested till
Reynolds could overtake Poyas and bring him back.  They came at
last, but by that time the arm was so swollen and painful that I
could not ride.  They rigged up an old gig belonging to the negro,
in which I was carried six miles to the plantation of Mr. Poyas,
Sr.  A neighboring physician was sent for, who tried the usual
methods of setting the arm, but without success; each time making
the operation more painful.  At last he sent off, got a set of
double pulleys and cords, with which he succeeded in extending the
muscles and in getting the bone into place.  I then returned to
Fort Moultrie, but being disabled, applied for a short leave and
went North.

I started January 25,1845; went to Washington, Baltimore, and
Lancaster, Ohio, whence I went to Mansfield, and thence back by
Newark to Wheeling, Cumberland, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New
York, whence I sailed back for Charleston on the ship Sullivan,
reaching Fort Moultrie March 9, 1845.

About that time (March 1, 1845) Congress had, by a joint
resolution, provided for the annexation of Texas, then an
independent Republic, subject to certain conditions requiring the
acceptance of the Republic of Texas to be final and conclusive.  We
all expected war as a matter of course.  At that time General
Zachary Taylor had assembled a couple of regiments of infantry and
one of dragoons at Fort Jessup, Louisiana, and had orders to extend
military protection to Texas against the Indians, or a "foreign
enemy," the moment the terms of annexation were accepted.  He
received notice of such acceptance July 7th, and forthwith
proceeded to remove his troops to Corpus Christi, Texas, where,
during the summer and fall of 1845, was assembled that force with
which, in the spring of 1846, was begun the Mexican War.

Some time during that summer came to Fort Moultrie orders for
sending Company E, Third Artillery, Lieutenant Bragg, to New
Orleans, there to receive a battery of field-guns, and thence to
the camp of General Taylor at Corpus Christi.  This was the first
company of our regiment sent to the seat of war, and it embarked on
the brig Hayne.  This was the only company that left Fort Moultrie
till after I was detached for recruiting service on the 1st of May,
1846.

Inasmuch as Charleston afterward became famous, as the spot where
began our civil war, a general description of it, as it was in
1846, will not be out of place.

The city lies on a long peninsula between the Ashley and Cooper
Rivers--a low, level peninsula, of sand.  Meeting Street is its
Broadway, with King Street, next west and parallel, the street of
shops and small stores.  These streets are crossed at right angles
by many others, of which Broad Street was the principal; and the
intersection of Meeting and Broad was the heart of the city, marked
by the Guard-House and St. Michael's Episcopal Church.  The
Custom-House, Post-Office, etc., were at the foot of Broad Street,
near the wharves of the Cooper River front.  At the extremity of
the peninsula was a drive, open to the bay, and faced by some of
the handsomest houses of the city, called the "Battery."  Looking
down the bay on the right, was James Island, an irregular triangle
of about seven miles, the whole island in cultivation with
sea-island cotton.  At the lower end was Fort Johnson, then simply
the station of Captain Bowman, United States Engineers, engaged in
building Fort Sumter.  This fort (Sumter) was erected on an
artificial island nearly in mid-channel, made by dumping rocks,
mostly brought as ballast in cotton-ships from the North.  As the
rock reached the surface it was levelled, and made the foundation
of Fort Sumter.  In 1846 this fort was barely above the water.
Still farther out beyond James Island, and separated from it by a
wide space of salt marsh with crooked channels, was Morris Island,
composed of the sand-dunes thrown up by the wind and the sea,
backed with the salt marsh.  On this was the lighthouse, but no
people.

On the left, looking down the bay from the Battery of Charleston,
was, first, Castle Pinckney, a round brick fort, of two tiers of
guns, one in embrasure, the other in barbette, built on a marsh
island, which was not garrisoned.  Farther down the bay a point of
the mainland reached the bay, where there was a group of houses,
called Mount Pleasant; and at the extremity of the bay, distant six
miles, was Sullivan's Island, presenting a smooth sand-beach to the
sea, with the line of sand-hills or dunes thrown up by the waves
and winds, and the usual backing of marsh and crooked salt-water
channels.

At the shoulder of this island was Fort Moultrie, an irregular
fort, without ditch or counterscarp, with a brick scarp wall about
twelve feet high, which could be scaled anywhere, and this was
surmounted by an earth parapet capable of mounting about forty
twenty-four and thirty-two pounder smooth-bore iron guns.  Inside
the fort were three two-story brick barracks, sufficient to quarter
the officers and men of two companies of artillery.

At sea was the usual "bar," changing slightly from year to year,
but generally the main ship-channel came from the south, parallel
to Morris Island, till it was well up to Fort Moultrie, where it
curved, passing close to Fort Sumter and up to the wharves of the
city, which were built mostly along the Cooper River front.

Charleston was then a proud, aristocratic city, and assumed a
leadership in the public opinion of the South far out of proportion
to her population, wealth, or commerce.  On more than one occasion
previously, the inhabitants had almost inaugurated civil war, by
their assertion and professed belief that each State had, in the
original compact of government, reserved to itself the right to
withdraw from the Union at its own option, whenever the people
supposed they had sufficient cause.  We used to discuss these
things at our own mess-tables, vehemently and sometimes quite
angrily; but I am sure that I never feared it would go further than
it had already gone in the winter of 1832-'33, when the attempt at
"nullification" was promptly suppressed by President Jackson's
famous declaration, "The Union must and shall be preserved!" and by
the judicious management of General Scott.

Still, civil war was to be; and, now that it has come and gone, we
can rest secure in the knowledge that as the chief cause, slavery,
has been eradicated forever, it is not likely to come again.




CHAPTER II.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS of CALIFORNIA.

1846-1848.


In the spring of 1846 I was a first lieutenant of Company C,1,
Third Artillery, stationed at Fort Moultrie, South Carolina.  The
company was commanded by Captain Robert Anderson; Henry B. Judd was
the senior first-lieutenant, and I was the junior first-lieutenant,
and George B. Ayres the second-lieutenant.  Colonel William Gates
commanded the post and regiment, with First-Lieutenant William
Austine as his adjutant.  Two other companies were at the post,
viz., Martin Burke's and E. D. Keyes's, and among the officers were
T. W. Sherman, Morris Miller, H. B. Field, William Churchill,
Joseph Stewart, and Surgeon McLaren.

The country now known as Texas had been recently acquired, and war
with Mexico was threatening.  One of our companies (Bragg's), with
George H. Thomas, John F. Reynolds, and Frank Thomas, had gone the
year previous and was at that time with General Taylor's army at
Corpus Christi, Texas.

In that year (1846) I received the regular detail for recruiting
service, with orders to report to the general superintendent at
Governor's Island, New York; and accordingly left Fort Moultrie in
the latter part of April, and reported to the superintendent,
Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons, at New York, on the 1st day of
May.  I was assigned to the Pittsburg rendezvous, whither I
proceeded and relieved Lieutenant Scott.  Early in May I took up my
quarters at the St. Charles Hotel, and entered upon the discharge
of my duties.  There was a regular recruiting-station already
established, with a sergeant, corporal, and two or three men, with
a citizen physician, Dr. McDowell, to examine the recruits.  The
threatening war with Mexico made a demand for recruits, and I
received authority to open another sub-rendezvous at Zanesville,
Ohio, whither I took the sergeant and established him.  This was
very handy to me, as my home was at Lancaster, Ohio, only
thirty-six miles off, so that I was thus enabled to visit my
friends there quite often.

In the latter part of May, when at Wheeling, Virginia, on my way
back from Zanesville to Pittsburg, I heard the first news of the
battle of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, which occurred on the
8th and 9th of May, and, in common with everybody else, felt
intensely excited.  That I should be on recruiting service, when my
comrades were actually fighting, was intolerable, and I hurried
on to my post, Pittsburg.  At that time the railroad did not
extend west of the Alleghanies, and all journeys were made by
stage-coaches.  In this instance I traveled from Zanesville to
Wheeling, thence to Washington (Pennsylvania), and thence to
Pittsburg by stage-coach.  On reaching Pittsburg I found many
private letters; one from Ord, then a first-lieutenant in Company
F, Third Artillery, at Fort McHenry, Baltimore, saying that his
company had just received orders for California, and asking me to
apply for it.  Without committing myself to that project, I wrote
to the Adjutant-General, R. Jones, at Washington, D. C., asking him
to consider me as an applicant for any active service, and saying
that I would willingly forego the recruiting detail, which I well
knew plenty of others would jump at.  Impatient to approach the
scene of active operations, without authority (and I suppose
wrongfully), I left my corporal in charge of the rendezvous, and
took all the recruits I had made, about twenty-five, in a steamboat
to Cincinnati, and turned them over to Major N. C. McCrea,
commanding at Newport Barracks.  I then reported in Cincinnati, to
the superintendent of the Western recruiting service, Colonel
Fanning, an old officer with one arm, who inquired by what
authority I had come away from my post.  I argued that I took it
for granted he wanted all the recruits he could get to forward to
the army at Brownsville, Texas; and did not know but that he might
want me to go along.  Instead of appreciating my volunteer zeal, he
cursed and swore at me for leaving my post without orders, and told
me to go back to Pittsburg.  I then asked for an order that would
entitle me to transportation back, which at first he emphatically
refused, but at last he gave the order, and I returned to
Pittsburg, all the way by stage, stopping again at Lancaster, where
I attended the wedding of my schoolmate Mike Effinger, and also
visited my sub-rendezvous at Zanesville.  R. S. Ewell, of my class,
arrived to open a cavalry rendezvous, but, finding my depot there,
he went on to Columbus, Ohio.  Tom Jordan afterward was ordered
to Zanesville, to take charge of that rendezvous, under
the general War Department orders increasing the number of
recruiting-stations.  I reached Pittsburg late in June, and found
the order relieving me from recruiting service, and detailing my
classmate H. B. Field to my place.  I was assigned to Company F,
then under orders for California.  By private letters from
Lieutenant Ord, I heard that the company had already started from
Fort McHenry for Governor's Island, New York Harbor, to take passage
for California in a naval transport.  I worked all that night, made
up my accounts current, and turned over the balance of cash to the
citizen physician, Dr. McDowell; and also closed my clothing and
property returns, leaving blank receipts with the same gentleman for
Field's signature, when he should get there, to be forwarded to the
Department at Washington, and the duplicates to me.  These I did not
receive for more than a year.  I remember that I got my orders about
8 p. m. one night, and took passage in the boat for Brownsville, the
next morning traveled by stage from Brownsville to Cumberland,
Maryland, and thence by cars to Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New
York, in a great hurry lest the ship might sail without me.  I found
Company F at Governor's Island, Captain C. Q. Tompkins in command,
Lieutenant E. O. C. Ord senior first-lieutenant, myself
junior first-lieutenant, Lucien Loeser and Charles Minor the
second-lieutenants.

The company had been filled up to one hundred privates, twelve
non-commissioned officers, and one ordnance sergeant (Layton),
making one hundred and thirteen enlisted men and five officers.
Dr. James L. Ord had been employed as acting assistant surgeon to
accompany the expedition, and Lieutenant H. W. Halleck, of the
engineers, was also to go along.  The United States store-ship
Lexington was then preparing at the Navy-Yard, Brooklyn, to carry
us around Cape Horn to California.  She was receiving on board the
necessary stores for the long voyage, and for service after our
arrival there.  Lieutenant-Commander Theodorus Bailey was in
command of the vessel, Lieutenant William H. Macomb executive
officer, and Passed-Midshipmen Muse, Spotts, and J. W. A.
Nicholson, were the watch-officers; Wilson purser, and Abernethy
surgeon.  The latter was caterer of the mess, and we all made an
advance of cash for him to lay in the necessary mess-stores.  To
enable us to prepare for so long a voyage and for an indefinite
sojourn in that far-off country, the War Department had authorized
us to draw six months' pay in advance, which sum of money we
invested in surplus clothing and such other things as seemed to us
necessary.  At last the ship was ready, and was towed down abreast
of Fort Columbus, where we were conveyed on board, and on the 14th
of July, 1846, we were towed to sea by a steam-tug, and cast off:
Colonel R. B. Mason, still superintendent of the general recruiting
service, accompanied us down the bay and out to sea, returning with
the tug.  A few other friends were of the party, but at last they
left us, and we were alone upon the sea, and the sailors were busy
with the sails and ropes.  The Lexington was an old ship, changed
from a sloop-of-war to a store-ship, with an after-cabin, a
"ward-room," and "between-decks."  In the cabin were Captains
Bailey and Tompkins, with whom messed the purser, Wilson.  In the
ward-room were all the other officers, two in each state-room; and
Minor, being an extra lieutenant, had to sleep in a hammock slung
in the ward-room.  Ord and I roomed together; Halleck and Loeser
and the others were scattered about.  The men were arranged in
bunks "between-decks," one set along the sides of the ship, and
another, double tier, amidships.  The crew were slung in hammocks
well forward.  Of these there were about fifty.  We at once
subdivided the company into four squads, under the four lieutenants
of the company, and arranged with the naval officers that our men
should serve on deck by squads, after the manner of their watches;
that the sailors should do all the work aloft, and the soldiers on
deck.

On fair days we drilled our men at the manual, and generally kept
them employed as much as possible, giving great attention to the
police and cleanliness of their dress and bunks; and so successful
were we in this, that, though the voyage lasted nearly two hundred
days, every man was able to leave the ship and march up the hill to
the fort at Monterey, California, carrying his own knapsack and
equipments.

The voyage from New York to Rio Janeiro was without accident or any
thing to vary the usual monotony.  We soon settled down to the
humdrum of a long voyage, reading some, not much; playing games,
but never gambling; and chiefly engaged in eating our meals
regularly.  In crossing the equator we had the usual visit of
Neptune and his wife, who, with a large razor and a bucket of
soapsuds, came over the sides and shaved some of the greenhorns;
but naval etiquette exempted the officers, and Neptune was not
permitted to come aft of the mizzen-mast.  At last, after sixty
days of absolute monotony, the island of Raza, off Rio Janeiro, was
descried, and we slowly entered the harbor, passing a fort on our
right hand, from which came a hail, in the Portuguese language,
from a huge speaking-trumpet, and our officer of the deck answered
back in gibberish, according to a well-understood custom of the
place.  Sugar-loaf Mountain, on the south of the entrance, is very
remarkable and well named; is almost conical, with a slight lean.
The man-of-war anchorage is about five miles inside the heads,
directly in front of the city of Rio Janeiro.  Words will not
describe the beauty of this perfect harbor, nor the delightful
feeling after a long voyage of its fragrant airs, and the entire
contrast between all things there and what we had left in New York.

We found the United Staten frigate Columbia anchored there, and
after the Lexington was properly moored, nearly all the officers
went on shore for sight-seeing and enjoyment.  We landed at a wharf
opposite which was a famous French restaurant, Farroux, and after
ordering supper we all proceeded to the Rua da Ouvador, where most
of the shops were, especially those for making feather flowers, as
much to see the pretty girls as the flowers which they so
skillfully made; thence we went to the theatre, where, besides some
opera, we witnessed the audience and saw the Emperor Dom Pedro, and
his Empress, the daughter of the King of Sicily.  After the
theatre, we went back to the restaurant, where we had an excellent
supper, with fruits of every variety and excellence, such as we had
never seen before, or even knew the names of.  Supper being over,
we called for the bill, and it was rendered in French, with
Brazilian currency.  It footed up some twenty-six thousand reis.
The figures alarmed us, so we all put on the waiters' plate various
coins in gold, which he took to the counter and returned the
change, making the total about sixteen dollars.  The millreis is
about a dollar, but being a paper-money was at a discount, so as
only to be worth about fifty-six cents in coin.

The Lexington remained in Rio about a week, during which we visited
the Palace, a few miles in the country, also the Botanic Gardens, a
place of infinite interest, with its specimens of tropical fruits,
spices; etc., etc., and indeed every place of note.  The thing I
best recall is a visit Halleck and I made to the Corcovado, a high
mountain whence the water is conveyed for the supply of the city.
We started to take a walk, and passed along the aqueduct, which
approaches the city by a aeries of arches; thence up the point of
the hill to a place known as the Madre, or fountain, to which all
the water that drips from the leaves is conducted by tile gutters,
and is carried to the city by an open stone aqueduct.

Here we found Mr. Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, the United States
minister to Brazil, and a Dr. Garnett, United States Navy, his
intended son-in-law.  We had a very interesting conversation, in
which Mr. Wise enlarged on the fact that Rio was supplied from the
"dews of heaven," for in the dry season the water comes from the
mists and fogs which hang around the Corcovado, drips from the
leaves of the trees, and is conducted to the Madre fountain by
miles of tile gutters.  Halleck and I continued our ascent of the
mountain, catching from points of the way magnificent views of the
scenery round about Rio Janeiro.  We reached near the summit what
was called the emperor's coffee-plantation, where we saw
coffee-berries in their various stages, and the scaffolds on which
the berries were dried before being cleaned.  The coffee-tree
reminded me of the red haw-tree of Ohio, and the berries were
somewhat like those of the same tree, two grains of coffee being
inclosed in one berry.  These were dried and cleaned of the husk by
hand or by machinery.  A short, steep ascent from this place
carried us to the summit, from which is beheld one of the most
picturesque views on earth.  The Organ Mountains to the west and
north, the ocean to the east, the city of Rio with its red-tiled
houses at our feet, and the entire harbor like a map spread out,
with innumerable bright valleys, make up a landscape that cannot be
described by mere words.  This spot is universally visited by
strangers, and has often been described.  After enjoying it
immeasurably, we returned to the city by another route, tired but
amply repaid by our long walk.

In due time all had been done that was requisite, and the Lexington
put to sea and resumed her voyage.  In October we approached Cape
Horn, the first land descried was Staten Island, white with snow,
and the ship seemed to be aiming for the channel to its west,
straits of Le Maire, but her course was changed and we passed
around to the east.  In time we saw Cape Horn; an island rounded
like an oven, after which it takes its name (Ornos) oven.  Here we
experienced very rough weather, buffeting about under storm
stay-sails, and spending nearly a month before the wind favored our
passage and enabled the course of the ship to be changed for
Valparaiso.  One day we sailed parallel with a French sloop-of-war,
and it was sublime to watch the two ships rising and falling in
those long deep swells of the ocean.  All the time we were followed
by the usual large flocks of Cape-pigeons and albatrosses of every
color.  The former resembled the common barn-pigeon exactly, but
are in fact gulls of beautiful and varied colors, mostly
dove-color.  We caught many with fishing-lines baited with pork.
We also took in the same way many albatrosses.  The white ones are
very large, and their down is equal to that of the swan.  At last
Cape Horn and its swelling seas were left behind, and we reached
Valparaiso in about sixty days from Rio.  We anchored in the open
roadstead, and spent there about ten days, visiting all the usual
places of interest, its foretop, main-top, mizzen-top, etc.
Halleck and Ord went up to Santiago, the capital of Chili, some
sixty miles inland, but I did not go.  Valparaiso did not impress
me favorably at all.  Seen from the sea, it looked like a long
string of houses along the narrow beach, surmounted with red banks
of earth, with little verdure, and no trees at all.  Northward the
space widened out somewhat, and gave room for a plaza, but the mass
of houses in that quarter were poor.  We were there in November,
corresponding to our early spring, and we enjoyed the large
strawberries which abounded.  The Independence frigate, Commodore
Shubrick, came in while we were there, having overtaken us, bound
also for California.  We met there also the sloop-of-war levant,
from California, and from the officers heard of many of the events
that had transpired about the time the navy, under Commodore Sloat,
had taken possession of the country.

All the necessary supplies being renewed in Valparaiso, the voyage
was resumed.  For nearly forty days we had uninterrupted favorable
winds, being in the "trades," and, having settled down to sailor
habits, time passed without notice.  We had brought with us all the
books we could find in New York about California, and had read them
over and over again: Wilkes's "Exploring Expedition;" Dana's "Two
Years before the Mast;" and Forbes's "Account of the Missions."  It
was generally understood we were bound for Monterey, then the
capital of Upper California.  We knew, of course, that General
Kearney was enroute for the same country overland; that Fremont was
therewith his exploring party; that the navy had already taken
possession, and that a regiment of volunteers, Stevenson's, was
to follow us from New York; but nevertheless we were impatient to
reach our destination.  About the middle of January the ship began
to approach the California coast, of which the captain was duly
cautious, because the English and Spanish charts differed some
fifteen miles in the longitude, and on all the charts a current of
two miles an hour was indicated northward along the coast.  At last
land was made one morning, and here occurred one of those accidents
so provoking after a long and tedious voyage.  Macomb, the master
and regular navigator, had made the correct observations, but
Nicholson during the night, by an observation on the north star,
put the ship some twenty miles farther south than was the case by
the regular reckoning, so that Captain Bailey gave directions to
alter the course of the ship more to the north, and to follow the
coast up, and to keep a good lookout for Point Pinos that marks the
location of Monterey Bay.  The usual north wind slackened, so that
when noon allowed Macomb to get a good observation, it was found
that we were north of Ano Nuevo, the northern headland of Monterey
Bay.  The ship was put about, but little by little arose one of
those southeast storms so common on the coast in winter, and we
buffeted about for several days, cursing that unfortunate
observation on the north star, for, on first sighting the coast,
had we turned for Monterey, instead of away to the north, we would
have been snugly anchored before the storm.  But the southeaster
abated, and the usual northwest wind came out again, and we sailed
steadily down into the roadstead of Monterey Bay.  This is shaped
somewhat like a fish hook, the barb being the harbor, the point
being Point Pinos, the southern headland.  Slowly the land came out
of the water, the high mountains about Santa Cruz, the low beach of
the Saunas, and the strongly-marked ridge terminating in the sea in
a point of dark pine-trees.  Then the line of whitewashed houses of
adobe, backed by the groves of dark oaks, resembling old
apple-trees; and then we saw two vessels anchored close to the
town.  One was a small merchant-brig and another a large ship
apparently dismasted.  At last we saw a boat coming out to meet us,
and when it came alongside, we were surprised to find Lieutenant
Henry Wise, master of the Independence frigate, that we had left at
Valparaiso.  Wise had come off to pilot us to our anchorage.  While
giving orders to the man at the wheel, he, in his peculiar fluent
style, told to us, gathered about him, that the Independence had
sailed from Valparaiso a week after us and had been in Monterey a
week; that the Californians had broken out into an insurrection;
that the naval fleet under Commodore Stockton was all down the
coast about San Diego; that General Kearney had reached the
country, but had had a severe battle at San Pascual, and had been
worsted, losing several officers and men, himself and others
wounded; that war was then going on at Los Angeles; that the whole
country was full of guerrillas, and that recently at Yerba Buena
the alcalde, Lieutenant Bartlett, United States Navy, while out
after cattle, had been lassoed, etc., etc.  Indeed, in the short
space of time that Wise was piloting our ship in, he told us more
news than we could have learned on shore in a week, and, being
unfamiliar with the great distances, we imagined that we should
have to debark and begin fighting at once.  Swords were brought
out, guns oiled and made ready, and every thing was in a bustle
when the old Lexington dropped her anchor on January 26, 1847, in
Monterey Bay, after a voyage of one hundred and ninety-eight days
from New York.  Every thing on shore looked bright and beautiful,
the hills covered with grass and flowers, the live-oaks so serene
and homelike, and the low adobe houses, with red-tiled roofs and
whitened walls, contrasted well with the dark pine-trees behind,
making a decidedly good impression upon us who had come so far to
spy out the land.  Nothing could be more peaceful in its looks than
Monterey in January, 1847.  We had already made the acquaintance of
Commodore Shubrick and the officers of the Independence in
Valparaiso, so that we again met as old friends.  Immediate
preparations were made for landing, and, as I was quartermaster and
commissary, I had plenty to do.  There was a small wharf and an
adobe custom-house in possession of the navy; also a barrack of two
stories, occupied by some marines, commanded by Lieutenant Maddox;
and on a hill to the west of the town had been built a two-story
block-house of hewed logs occupied by a guard of sailors under
command of Lieutenant Baldwin, United States Navy.  Not a single
modern wagon or cart was to be had in Monterey, nothing but the old
Mexican cart with wooden wheels, drawn by two or three pairs of
oxen, yoked by the horns.  A man named Tom Cole had two or more of
these, and he came into immediate requisition.  The United States
consul, and most prominent man there at the time, was Thomas O.
Larkin, who had a store and a pretty good two-story house occupied
by his family.  It was soon determined that our company was to land
and encamp on the hill at the block-house, and we were also to have
possession of the warehouse, or custom-house, for storage.  The
company was landed on the wharf, and we all marched in full dress
with knapsacks and arms, to the hill and relieved the guard under
Lieutenant Baldwin.  Tents and camp-equipage were hauled up, and
soon the camp was established.  I remained in a room at the
customhouse, where I could superintend the landing of the stores
and their proper distribution.  I had brought out from New York
twenty thousand dollars commissary funds, and eight thousand
dollars quartermaster funds, and as the ship contained about six
months' supply of provisions, also a saw-mill, grist-mill, and
almost every thing needed, we were soon established comfortably.
We found the people of Monterey a mixed set of Americans, native
Mexicans, and Indians, about one thousand all told.  They were kind
and pleasant, and seemed to have nothing to do, except such as
owned ranches in the country for the rearing of horses and cattle.
Horses could be bought at any price from four dollars up to
sixteen, but no horse was ever valued above a doubloon or Mexican
ounce (sixteen dollars).  Cattle cost eight dollars fifty cents for
the best, and this made beef net about two cents a pound, but at
that time nobody bought beef by the pound, but by the carcass.

Game of all kinds--elk, deer, wild geese, and ducks--was abundant;
but coffee, sugar, and small stores, were rare and costly.

There were some half-dozen shops or stores, but their shelves were
empty.  The people were very fond of riding, dancing, and of shows
of any kind.  The young fellows took great delight in showing off
their horsemanship, and would dash along, picking up a half-dollar
from the ground, stop their horses in full career and turn about on
the space of a bullock's hide, and their skill with the lasso was
certainly wonderful.  At full speed they could cast their lasso
about the horns of a bull, or so throw it as to catch any
particular foot.  These fellows would work all day on horseback in
driving cattle or catching wildhorses for a mere nothing, but all
the money offered would not have hired one of them to walk a mile.
The girls were very fond of dancing, and they did dance gracefully
and well.  Every Sunday, regularly, we had a baile, or dance, and
sometimes interspersed through the week.

I remember very well, soon after our arrival, that we were all
invited to witness a play called "Adam and Eve."   Eve was
personated by a pretty young girl known as Dolores Gomez, who,
however, was dressed very unlike Eve, for she was covered with a
petticoat and spangles.  Adam was personated by her brother--the
same who has since become somewhat famous as the person on whom is
founded the McGarrahan claim.  God Almighty was personated, and
heaven's occupants seemed very human.  Yet the play was pretty,
interesting, and elicited universal applause.  All the month of
February we were by day preparing for our long stay in the country,
and at night making the most of the balls and parties of the most
primitive kind, picking up a smattering of Spanish, and extending
our acquaintance with the people and the costumbrea del pais.  I
can well recall that Ord and I, impatient to look inland, got
permission and started for the Mission of San Juan Bautista.
Mounted on horses, and with our carbines, we took the road by El
Toro, quite a prominent hill, around which passes the road to the
south, following the Saunas or Monterey River.  After about twenty
miles over a sandy country covered with oak-bushes and scrub, we
entered quite a pretty valley in which there was a ranch at the
foot of the Toro.  Resting there a while and getting some
information, we again started in the direction of a mountain to the
north of the Saunas, called the Gavillano.  It was quite dark when
we reached the Saunas River, which we attempted to pass at several
points, but found it full of water, and the quicksands were bad.
Hearing the bark of a dog, we changed our course in that direction,
and, on hailing, were answered by voices which directed us where to
cross.  Our knowledge of the language was limited, but we managed
to understand, and to founder through the sand and water, and
reached a small adobe-house on the banks of the Salinas, where we
spent the night: The house was a single room, without floor or
glass; only a rude door, and window with bars.  Not a particle of
food but meat, yet the man and woman entertained us with the
language of lords put themselves, their house, and every thing, at
our  "disposition," and made little barefoot children dance for our
entertainment.  We made our supper of beef, and slept on a
bullock's hide on the dirt-floor.  In the morning we crossed the
Salinas Plain, about fifteen miles of level ground, taking a shot
occasionally at wild-geese, which abounded there, and entering the
well-wooded valley that comes out from the foot of the Gavillano.
We had cruised about all day, and it was almost dark when we
reached the house of a Senor Gomez, father of those who at Monterey
had performed the parts of Adam and Eve.  His house was a two-story
adobe, and had a fence in front.  It was situated well up among the
foot-hills of the Gavillano, and could not be seen until within a
few yards.  We hitched our horses to the fence and went in just as
Gomez was about to sit down to a tempting supper of stewed hare and
tortillas.  We were officers and caballeros and could not be
ignored.  After turning our horses to grass, at his invitation we
joined him at supper.  The allowance, though ample for one, was
rather short for three, and I thought the Spanish grandiloquent
politeness of Gomez, who was fat and old, was not over-cordial.
However, down we sat, and I was helped to a dish of rabbit, with
what I thought to be an abundant sauce of tomato.  Taking a good
mouthful, I felt as though I had taken liquid fire; the tomato was
chile colorado, or red pepper, of the purest kind.  It nearly
killed me, and I saw Gomez's eyes twinkle, for he saw that his
share of supper was increased.--I contented myself with bits of
the meat, and an abundant supply of tortillas.  Ord was better
case-hardened, and stood it better.  We staid at Gomez's that
night, sleeping, as all did, on the ground, and the next morning we
crossed the hill by the bridle-path to the old Mission of San Juan
Bautista.  The Mission was in a beautiful valley, very level, and
bounded on all sides by hills.  The plain was covered with
wild-grasses and mustard, and had abundant water.  Cattle and
horses were seen in all directions, and it was manifest that the
priests who first occupied the country were good judges of land.
It was Sunday, and all the people, about, a hundred, had come to
church from the country round about.  Ord was somewhat of a
Catholic, and entered the church with his clanking spars and
kneeled down, attracting the attention of all, for he had on the
uniform of an American officer.  As soon as church was out, all
rushed to the various sports.  I saw the priest, with his gray
robes tucked up, playing at billiards, others were cock fighting,
and some at horse-racing.  My horse had become lame, and I resolved
to buy another.  As soon as it was known that I wanted a horse,
several came for me, and displayed their horses by dashing past and
hauling them up short.  There was a fine black stallion that
attracted my notice, and, after trying him myself, I concluded a
purchase.  I left with the seller my own lame horse, which he was
to bring to me at Monterey, when I was to pay him ten dollars for
the other.  The Mission of San Juan bore the marks of high
prosperity at a former period, and had a good pear-orchard just
under the plateau where stood the church.  After spending the day,
Ord and I returned to Monterey, about thirty-five miles, by a
shorter route, Thus passed the month of February, and, though there
were no mails or regular expresses, we heard occasionally from
Yerba Buena and Sutter's Fort to the north, and from the army and
navy about Los Angeles at the south.  We also knew that a quarrel
had grown up at Los Angeles, between General Kearney, Colonel
Fremont, and Commodore Stockton, as to the right to control affairs
in California.  Kearney had with him only the fragments of the two
companies of dragoons, which had come across from New Mexico with
him, and had been handled very roughly by Don Andreas Pico, at San
Pascual, in which engagement Captains Moore and Johnson, and
Lieutenant Hammond, were killed, and Kearney himself wounded.
There remained with him Colonel Swords, quartermaster; Captain H.
S. Turner, First Dragoons; Captains Emory and Warner, Topographical
Engineers; Assistant Surgeon Griffin, and Lieutenant J. W.
Davidson.  Fremont had marched down from the north with a battalion
of volunteers; Commodore Stockton had marched up from San Diego to
Los Angeles, with General Kearney, his dragoons, and a battalion of
sailors and marines, and was soon joined there by Fremont, and they
jointly received the surrender of the insurgents under Andreas
Pico.  We also knew that General R. B. Mason had been ordered to
California; that Colonel John D. Stevenson was coming out to
California with a regiment of New York Volunteers; that Commodore
Shubrick had orders also from the Navy Department to control
matters afloat; that General Kearney, by virtue of his rank, had
the right to control all the land-forces in the service of the
United States; and that Fremont claimed the same right by virtue of
a letter he had received from Colonel Benton, then a Senator, and a
man of great influence with Polk's Administration.  So that among
the younger officers the query was very natural, "Who the devil is
Governor of California?"  One day I was on board the Independence
frigate, dining with the ward-room officers, when a war-vessel was
reported in the offing, which in due time was made out to be the
Cyane, Captain DuPont.  After dinner, we were all on deck, to watch
the new arrival, the ships meanwhile exchanging signals, which were
interpreted that General Kearney was on board.  As the Cyane
approached, a boat was sent to meet her, with Commodore Shubrick's
flag-officer, Lieutenant Lewis, to carry the usual messages, and to
invite General Kearney to come on board the Independence as the
guest of Commodore Shubrick.  Quite a number of officers were on
deck, among them  Lieutenants Wise, Montgomery Lewis, William
Chapman, and others, noted wits and wags of the navy.  In due time
the Cyane anchored close by, and our boat was seen returning with a
stranger in the stern-sheets, clothed in army blue.  As the boat
came nearer, we saw that it was General Kearney with an old dragoon
coat on, and an army-cap, to which the general had added the broad
vizor, cut from a full-dress hat, to shade his face and eyes
against the glaring sun of the Gila region.  Chapman exclaimed:
"Fellows, the problem is solved; there is the grand-vizier (visor)
by G-d!  He is Governor of California."

All hands received the general with great heartiness, and he soon
passed out of our sight into the commodore's cabin.  Between
Commodore Shubrick and General Kearney existed from that time
forward the greatest harmony and good feeling, and no further
trouble existed as to the controlling power on the Pacific coast.
General Kearney had dispatched from San Diego his quartermaster,
Colonel Swords, to the Sandwich Islands, to purchase clothing and
stores for his men, and had come up to Monterey, bringing with him
Turner and Warner, leaving Emory and the company of dragoons below.
He was delighted to find a full strong company of artillery,
subject to his orders, well supplied with clothing and money in all
respects, and, much to the disgust of our Captain Tompkins, he took
half of his company clothing and part of the money held by me for
the relief of his worn-out and almost naked dragoons left behind at
Los Angeles.  In a few days he moved on shore, took up his quarters
at Larkin's house, and established his headquarters, with Captain
Turner as his adjutant general.  One day Turner and Warner were at
my tent, and, seeing a store-bag full of socks, drawers, and calico
shirts, of which I had laid in a three years' supply, and of which
they had none, made known to me their wants, and I told them to
help themselves, which Turner and Warner did.  The latter, however,
insisted on paying me the cost, and from that date to this Turner
and I have been close friends.  Warner, poor fellow, was afterward
killed by Indians.  Things gradually came into shape, a
semi-monthly courier line was established from Yerba Buena to San
Diego, and we were thus enabled to keep pace with events throughout
the country.  In March Stevenson's regiment arrived.  Colonel Mason
also arrived by sea from Callao in the store-ship Erie, and P. St.
George Cooke's battalion of Mormons reached San Luis Rey.  A. J.
Smith and George Stoneman were with him, and were assigned to the
company of dragoons at Los Angeles.  All these troops and the navy
regarded General Kearney as the rightful commander, though Fremont
still remained at Los Angeles, styling himself as Governor, issuing
orders and holding his battalion of California Volunteers in
apparent defiance of General Kearney.  Colonel Mason and Major
Turner were sent down by sea with a paymaster, with muster-rolls and
orders to muster this battalion into the service of the United
States, to pay and then to muster them out; but on their reaching
Los Angeles Fremont would not consent to it, and the controversy
became so angry that a challenge was believed to have passed between
Mason and Fremont, but the duel never came about.  Turner rode up by
land in four or five days, and Fremont, becoming alarmed, followed
him, as we supposed, to overtake him, but he did not succeed.  On
Fremont's arrival at Monterey, he camped in a tent about a mile out
of town and called on General Kearney, and it was reported that the
latter threatened him very severely and ordered him back to Los
Angeles immediately, to disband his volunteers, and to cease the
exercise of authority of any kind in the country. Feeling a natural
curiosity to see Fremont, who was then quite famous by reason of his
recent explorations and the still more recent conflicts with Kearney
and Mason, I rode out to his camp, and found him in a conical tent
with one Captain Owens, who was a mountaineer, trapper, etc., but
originally from Zanesville, Ohio. I spent an hour or so with Fremont
in his tent, took some tea with him, and left, without being much
impressed with him.  In due time Colonel Swords returned from the
Sandwich Islands and relieved me as quartermaster.  Captain William
G. Marcy, son of the Secretary of War, had also come out in one of
Stevenson's ships as an assistant commissary of subsistence, and was
stationed at Monterey and relieved me as commissary, so that I
reverted to the condition of a company-officer.  While acting as a
staff officer I had lived at the custom-house in Monterey, but when
relieved I took a tent in line with the other company-officers on
the hill, where we had a mess.

Stevenson'a regiment reached San Francisco Bay early in March,
1847.  Three companies were stationed at the Presidio under Major
James A. Hardier one company (Brackett's) at Sonoma; three, under
Colonel Stevenson, at Monterey; and three, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Burton, at Santa Barbara.  One day I was down at the headquarters
at Larkin's horse, when General Kearney remarked to me that he was
going down to Los Angeles in the ship Lexington, and wanted me to
go along as his aide.  Of course this was most agreeable to me.
Two of Stevenson's companies, with the headquarters and the
colonel, were to go also.  They embarked, and early in May we
sailed for San Pedro.  Before embarking, the United States
line-of-battle-ship Columbus had reached the coast from China with
Commodore Biddle, whose rank gave him the supreme command of the
navy on the coast.  He was busy in calling in--"lassooing "--from
the land-service the various naval officers who under Stockton had
been doing all sorts of military and civil service on shore.
Knowing that I was to go down the coast with General Kearney, he
sent for me and handed me two unsealed parcels addressed to
Lieutenant Wilson, United States Navy, and Major Gillespie, United
States Marines, at Los Angeles.  These were written orders pretty
much in these words: "On receipt of this order you will repair at
once on board the United States ship Lexington at San Pedro, and on
reaching Monterey you will report to the undersigned.-JAMES
BIDDLE."   Of course, I executed my part to the letter, and these
officers were duly "lassooed."  We sailed down the coast with a
fair wind, and anchored inside the kelp, abreast of Johnson's
house.  Messages were forthwith dispatched up to Los Angeles,
twenty miles off, and preparations for horses made for us to ride
up.  We landed, and, as Kearney held to my arm in ascending the
steep path up the bluff, he remarked to himself, rather than to me,
that it was strange that Fremont did not want to return north by
the Lexington on account of sea-sickness, but preferred to go by
land over five hundred miles.  The younger officers had been
discussing what the general would do with Fremont, who was supposed
to be in a state of mutiny.  Some, thought he would be tried and
shot, some that he would be carried back in irons; and all agreed
that if any one else than Fremont had put on such airs, and had
acted as he had done, Kearney would have shown him no mercy, for he
was regarded as the strictest sort of a disciplinarian.  We had a
pleasant ride across the plain which lies between the seashore and
Los Angeles, which we reached in about three hours, the infantry
following on foot.  We found Colonel P. St. George Cooke living at
the house of a Mr. Pryor, and the company of dragoons, with A. J.
Smith, Davidson, Stoneman, and Dr. Griffin, quartered in an
adobe-house close by.  Fremont held his court in the only two-story
frame-house in the place.  After sometime spent at Pryor's house,
General Kearney ordered me to call on Fremont to notify him of his
arrival, and that he desired to see him.  I walked round to the
house which had been pointed out to me as his, inquired of a man at
the door if the colonel was in, was answered "Yea," and was
conducted to a large room on the second floor, where very soon
Fremont came in, and I delivered my message.  As I was on the point
of leaving, he inquired where I was going to, and I answered that I
was going back to Pryor's house, where the general was, when he
remarked that if I would wait a moment he would go along.  Of
course I waited, and he soon joined me, dressed much as a
Californian, with the peculiar high, broad-brimmed hat, with a
fancy cord, and we walked together back to Pryor's, where I left
him with General Kearney.  We spent several days very pleasantly at
Los Angeles, then, as now, the chief pueblo of the south, famous
for its grapes, fruits, and wines.  There was a hill close to the
town, from which we had a perfect view of the place.  The
surrounding country is level, utterly devoid of trees, except the
willows and cotton-woods that line the Los Angeles Creek and the
acequias, or ditches, which lead from it.  The space of ground
cultivated in vineyards seemed about five miles by one, embracing
the town.  Every house had its inclosure of vineyard, which
resembled a miniature orchard, the vines being very old, ranged in
rows, trimmed very close, with irrigating ditches so arranged that
a stream of water could be diverted between each row of vines.  The
Los Angeles and San Gabriel Rivers are fed by melting snows from a
range of mountains to the east, and the quantity of cultivated land
depends upon the amount of water.  This did not seem to be very
large; but the San Gabriel River, close by, was represented to
contain a larger volume of water, affording the means of greatly
enlarging the space for cultivation.  The climate was so moderate
that oranges, figs, pomegranates, etc....  were generally to be
found in every yard or inclosure.

At the time of our visit, General Kearney was making his
preparations to return overland to the United States, and he
arranged to secure a volunteer escort out of the battalion of
Mormons that was then stationed at San Luis Rey, under Colonel
Cooke and a Major Hunt.  This battalion was only enlisted for one
year, and the time for their discharge was approaching, and it was
generally understood that the majority of the men wanted to be
discharged so as to join the Mormons who had halted at Salt Lake,
but a lieutenant and about forty men volunteered to return to
Missouri as the escort of General Kearney.  These were mounted on
mules and horses, and I was appointed to conduct them to Monterey
by land.  Leaving the party at Los Angeles to follow by sea in the
Lexington, I started with the Mormon detachment and traveled by
land.  We averaged about thirty miles a day, stopped one day at
Santa Barbara, where I saw Colonel Burton, and so on by the usually
traveled road to Monterey, reaching it in about fifteen days,
arriving some days in advance of the Lexington.  This gave me the
best kind of an opportunity for seeing the country, which was very
sparsely populated indeed, except by a few families at the various
Missions.  We had no wheeled vehicles, but packed our food and
clothing on mules driven ahead, and we slept on the ground in the
open air, the rainy season having passed.  Fremont followed me by
land in a few days, and, by the end of May, General Kearney was all
ready at Monterey to take his departure, leaving to succeed him in
command Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons.  Our Captain
(Tompkins), too, had become discontented at his separation from his
family, tendered his resignation to General Kearney, and availed
himself of a sailing-vessel bound for Callao to reach the East.
Colonel Mason selected me as his adjutant-general; and on the very
last day of May General Kearney, with his Mormon escort, with
Colonel Cooke, Colonel Swords (quartermaster), Captain Turner, and
a naval officer, Captain Radford, took his departure for the East
overland, leaving us in full possession of California and its fate.
Fremont also left California with General Kearney, and with him
departed all cause of confusion and disorder in the country.  From
that time forth no one could dispute the authority of Colonel Mason
as in command of all the United States forces on shore, while the
senior naval officer had a like control afloat.  This was Commodore
James Biddle, who had reached the station from China in the
Columbus, and he in turn was succeeded by Commodore T. Ap Catesby
Jones in the line-of-battle-ship Ohio.  At that time Monterey was
our headquarters, and the naval commander for a time remained
there, but subsequently San Francisco Bay became the chief naval
rendezvous.

Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons, was an officer of great
experience, of stern character, deemed by some harsh and severe,
but in all my intercourse with him he was kind and agreeable.  He
had a large fund of good sense, and, during our long period of
service together, I enjoyed his unlimited confidence.  He had been
in his day a splendid shot and hunter, and often entertained me
with characteristic anecdotes of Taylor, Twiggs, Worth, Harvey,
Martin Scott, etc., etc, who were then in Mexico, gaining a
national fame.  California had settled down to a condition of
absolute repose, and we naturally repined at our fate in being
so remote from the war in Mexico, where our comrades were
reaping large honors.  Mason dwelt in a house not far from the
Custom-House, with Captain Lanman, United States Navy; I had a small
adobe-house back of Larkin's.  Halleck and Dr. Murray had a small
log-house not far off.  The company of artillery was still on the
hill, under the command of Lieutenant Ord, engaged in building a
fort whereon to mount the guns we had brought out in the Lexington,
and also in constructing quarters out of hewn pine-logs for the men.
Lieutenant Minor, a very clever young officer, had taken violently
sick and died about the time I got back from Los Angeles, leaving
Lieutenants Ord and Loeser alone with the company, with
Assistant-Surgeon Robert Murray.  Captain William G. Marcy was the
quartermaster and commissary.  Naglee's company of Stevenson's
regiment had been mounted and was sent out against the Indians in
the San Joaquin Valley, and Shannon's company occupied the barracks.
Shortly after General Kearney had gone East, we found an order of
his on record, removing one Mr. Nash, the Alcalde of Sonoma, and
appointing to his place ex-Governor L. W. Boggs.  A letter came to
Colonel and Governor Mason from Boggs, whom he had personally known
in Missouri, complaining that, though he had been appointed alcalde,
the then incumbent (Nash) utterly denied Kearney's right to remove
him, because he had been elected by the people under the
proclamation of Commodore Sloat, and refused to surrender his office
or to account for his acts as alcalde.  Such a proclamation had been
made by Commodore Sloat shortly after the first occupation of
California, announcing that the people were free and enlightened
American citizens, entitled to all the rights and privileges as
such, and among them the right to elect their own officers, etc.
The people of Sonoma town and valley, some forty or fifty immigrants
from the United States, and very few native Californians, had
elected Mr. Nash, and, as stated, he refused to recognize the right
of a mere military commander to eject him and to appoint another to
his place.  Neither General Kearney nor Mason had much respect for
this land of "buncombe," but assumed the true doctrine that
California was yet a Mexican province, held by right of conquest,
that the military commander was held responsible to the country, and
that the province should be held in statu quo until a treaty of
peace.  This letter of Boggs was therefore referred to Captain
Brackett, whose company was stationed at Sonoma, with orders to
notify Nash that Boggs was the rightful alcalde; that he must
quietly surrender his office, with the books and records thereof,
and that he must account for any moneys received from the sale of
town-lots, etc., etc.; and in the event of refusal he (Captain
Brackett) must compel him by the use of force.  In due time we got
Brackett's answer, saying that the little community of Sonoma was in
a dangerous state of effervescence caused by his orders; that Nash
was backed by most of the Americans there who had come across from
Missouri with American ideas; that as he (Brackett) was a volunteer
officer, likely to be soon discharged, and as he designed to settle
there, he asked in consequence to be excused from the execution of
this (to him) unpleasant duty.  Such a request, coming to an old
soldier like Colonel Mason, aroused his wrath, and he would have
proceeded rough-shod against Brackett, who, by-the-way, was a West
Point graduate, and ought to have known better; but I suggested to
the colonel that, the case being a test one, he had better send me
up to Sonoma, and I would settle it quick enough.  He then gave me
an order to go to Sonoma to carry out the instructions already given
to Brackett.

I took one soldier with me, Private Barnes, with four horses, two
of which we rode, and the other two we drove ahead.  The first day
we reached Gilroy's and camped by a stream near three or four
adobe-huts known as Gilroy's ranch.  The next day we passed
Murphy's, San Jose, and Santa Clara Mission, camping some four
miles beyond, where a kind of hole had been dug in the ground for
water.  The whole of this distance, now so beautifully improved and
settled, was then scarcely occupied, except by poor ranches
producing horses and cattle.  The pueblo of San Jose was a string
of low adobe-houses festooned with red peppers and garlic; and the
Mission of Santa Clara was a dilapidated concern, with its church
and orchard.  The long line of poplar-trees lining the road from
San Jose to Santa Clara bespoke a former period when the priests
had ruled the land.  Just about dark I was lying on the ground near
the well, and my soldier Barnes had watered our horses and picketed
them to grass, when we heard a horse crushing his way through the
high mustard-bushes which filled the plain, and soon a man came to
us to inquire if we had seen a saddle-horse pass up the road.  We
explained to him what we had heard, and he went off in pursuit of
his horse.  Before dark he came back unsuccessful, and gave his
name as Bidwell, the same gentleman who has since been a member of
Congress, who is married to Miss Kennedy, of Washington City, and
now lives in princely style at Chico, California.

He explained that he was a surveyor, and had been in the lower
country engaged in surveying land; that the horse had escaped him
with his saddle-bags containing all his notes and papers, and some
six hundred dollars in money, all the money he had earned.  He
spent the night with us on the ground, and the next morning we left
him there to continue the search for his horse, and I afterward
heard that he had found his saddle-bags all right, but never
recovered the horse.  The next day toward night we approached the
Mission of San Francisco, and the village of Yerba Buena, tired and
weary--the wind as usual blowing a perfect hurricane, and a more
desolate region it was impossible to conceive of.  Leaving Barnes
to work his way into the town as best he could with the tired
animals, I took the freshest horse and rode forward.  I fell in
with Lieutenant Fabius Stanley, United States Navy, and we rode
into Yerba Buena together about an hour before sundown, there being
nothing but a path from the Mission into the town, deep and heavy
with drift-sand.  My horse could hardly drag one foot after the
other when we reached the old Hudson Bay Company's house, which was
then the store of Howard and Mellus.  There I learned where Captain
Folsom, the quartermaster, was to be found.  He was staying with a
family of the name of Grimes, who had a small horse back of
Howard's store, which must have been near where Sacramento Street
now crosses Kearney.  Folsom was a classmate of mine, had come out
with Stevenson's regiment as quartermaster, and was at the time the
chief-quartermaster of the department.  His office was in the old
custom-horse standing at the northwest corner of the Plaza.  He had
hired two warehouses, the only ones there at the time, of one
Liedsdorff, the principal man of Yerba Buena, who also owned the
only public-house, or tavern, called the City Hotel, on Kearney
Street, at the southeast corner of the Plaza.  I stopped with
Folsom at Mrs. Grimes's, and he sent my horse, as also the other
three when Barnes had got in after dark, to a coral where he had a
little barley, but no hay.  At that time nobody fed a horse, but he
was usually turned out to pick such scanty grass as he could find
on the side-hills.  The few government horses used in town were
usually sent out to the Presidio, where the grass was somewhat
better.  At that time (July, 1847), what is now called San
Francisco was called Yerba Buena.  A naval officer, Lieutenant
Washington A. Bartlett, its first alcalde, had caused it to be
surveyed and laid out into blocks and lots, which were being sold
at sixteen dollars a lot of fifty vuras square; the understanding
being that no single person could purchase of the alcalde more than
one in-lot of fifty varas, and one out-lot of a hundred varas.
Folsom, however, had got his clerks, orderlies, etc., to buy lots,
and they, for a small consideration, conveyed them to him, so that
he was nominally the owner of a good many lots.  Lieutenant Halleck
had bought one of each kind, and so had Warner.  Many naval
officers had also invested, and Captain Folsom advised me to buy
some, but I felt actually insulted that he should think me such a
fool as to pay money for property in such a horrid place as Yerba
Buena, especially ridiculing his quarter of the city, then called
Happy Valley.  At that day Montgomery Street was, as now, the
business street, extending from Jackson to Sacramento, the water of
the bay leaving barely room for a few houses on its east side, and
the public warehouses were on a sandy beach about where the Bank of
California now stands, viz., near the intersection of Sansome and
California, Streets.  Along Montgomery Street were the stores of
Howard & Mellus, Frank Ward, Sherman & Ruckel, Ross & Co., and it
may be one or two others.  Around the Plaza were a few houses,
among them the City Hotel and the Custom-House, single-story adobes
with tiled roofs, and they were by far the most substantial and
best houses in the place.  The population was estimated at about
four hundred, of whom Kanakas (natives of the Sandwich Islands)
formed the bulk.

At the foot of Clay Street was a small wharf which small boats
could reach at high tide; but the principal landing-place was where
some stones had fallen into the water, about where Broadway now
intersects Battery Street.  On the steep bluff above had been
excavated, by the navy, during the year before, a bench, wherein
were mounted a couple of navy-guns, styled the battery, which, I
suppose, gave name to the street.  I explained to Folsom the object
of my visit, and learned from him that he had no boat in which to
send me to Sonoma, and that the only, chance to get there was to
borrow a boat from the navy.  The line-of-battle-ship Columbus was
then lying at anchor off the town, and he said if I would get up
early the next morning I could go off to her in one of the
market-boats.

Accordingly, I was up bright and early, down at the wharf, found a
boat, and went off to the Columbus to see Commodore Biddle.  On
reaching the ship and stating to the officer of the deck my
business, I was shown into the commodore's cabin, and soon made
known to him my object.  Biddle was a small-sized man, but
vivacious in the extreme.  He had a perfect contempt for all
humbug, and at once entered into the business with extreme
alacrity.  I was somewhat amused at the importance he attached to
the step.  He had a chaplain, and a private secretary, in a small
room latticed off from his cabin, and he first called on them to go
out, and, when we were alone, he enlarged on the folly of Sloat's
proclamation, giving the people the right to elect their own
officers, and commended Kearney and Mason for nipping that idea in
the bud, and keeping the power in their own hands.  He then sent
for the first lieutenant (Drayton), and inquired if there were
among the officers on board any who had ever been in the Upper Bay,
and learning that there was a midshipman (Whittaker) he was sent
for.  It so happened that this midshipman had been on a frolic on
shore a few nights before, and was accordingly much frightened when
summoned into the commodore's presence, but as soon as he was
questioned as to his knowledge of the bay, he was sensibly
relieved, and professed to know every thing about it.

Accordingly, the long boat was ordered with this midshipman and
eight sailors, prepared with water and provisions for several days
absence.  Biddle then asked me if I knew any of his own officers,
and which one of them I would prefer to accompany me.  I knew most
of them, and we settled down on Louis McLane.  He was sent for, and
it was settled that McLane and I were to conduct this important
mission, and the commodore enjoined on us complete secrecy, so as
to insure success, and he especially cautioned us against being
pumped by his ward-room officers, Chapman, Lewis, Wise, etc., while
on board his ship.  With this injunction I was dismissed to the
wardroom, where I found Chapman, Lewis, and Wise, dreadfully
exercised at our profound secrecy.  The fact that McLane and I had
been closeted with the commodore for an hour, that orders for the
boat and stores had been made, that the chaplain and clerk had been
sent out of the cabin, etc., etc., all excited their curiosity; but
McLane and I kept our secret well.  The general impression was,
that we had some knowledge about the fate of Captain Montgomery's
two sons and the crew that had been lost the year before.  In 1846
Captain Montgomery commanded at Yerba Buena, on board the St. Mary
sloop-of-war, and he had a detachment of men stationed up at
Sonoma.  Occasionally a boat was sent up with provisions or
intelligence to them.  Montgomery had two sons on board his ship,
one a midshipman, the other his secretary.  Having occasion to send
some money up to Sonoma, he sent his two sons with a good boat and
crew.  The boat started with a strong breeze and a very large sail,
was watched from the deck until she was out of sight, and has never
been heard of since.  There was, of coarse, much speculation as to
their fate, some contending that the boat must have been capsized
in San Pablo Bay, and that all were lost; others contending that
the crew had murdered the officers for the money, and then escaped;
but, so far as I know, not a man of that crew has ever been seen or
heard of since.  When at last the boat was ready for us, we
started, leaving all hands, save the commodore, impressed with the
belief that we were going on some errand connected with the loss of
the missing boat and crew of the St. Mary.  We sailed directly
north, up the bay and across San Pablo, reached the month of Sonoma
Creek about dark, and during the night worked up the creek some
twelve miles by means of the tide, to a landing called the
Embarcadero.  To maintain the secrecy which the commodore had
enjoined on us, McLane and I agreed to keep up the delusion by
pretending to be on a marketing expedition to pick up chickens,
pigs, etc., for the mess of the Columbus, soon to depart for home.

Leaving the midshipman and four sailors to guard the boat, we
started on foot with the other four for Sonoma Town, which we soon
reached.  It was a simple open square, around which were some
adobe-houses, that of General Vallejo occupying one side.  On
another was an unfinished two-story adobe building, occupied as a
barrack by Bracken's company.  We soon found Captain Brackett, and
I told him that I intended to take Nash a prisoner and convey him
back to Monterey to answer for his mutinous behavior.  I got an old
sergeant of his company, whom I had known in the Third Artillery,
quietly to ascertain the whereabouts of Nash, who was a bachelor,
stopping with the family of a lawyer named Green.  The sergeant
soon returned, saying that Nash had gone over to Napa, but would be
back that evening; so McLane and I went up to a farm of some
pretensions, occupied by one Andreas Hoepner, with a pretty Sitka
wife, who lived a couple of miles above Sonoma, and we bought of
him some chickens, pigs, etc.  We then visited Governor Boggs's
family and that of General Vallejo, who was then, as now, one of
the most prominent and influential natives of California.  About
dark I learned that Nash had come back, and then, giving Brackett
orders to have a cart ready at the corner of the plaza, McLane and
I went to the house of Green.  Posting an armed sailor on each side
of the house, we knocked at the door and walked in.  We found
Green, Nash, and two women, at supper.  I inquired if Nash were in,
and was first answered "No," but one of the women soon pointed to
him, and he rose.  We were armed with pistols, and the family was
evidently alarmed.  I walked up to him and took his arm, and told
him to come along with me.  He asked me, "Where?" and I said,
"Monterey."   "Why?" I would explain that more at leisure.  Green
put himself between me and the door, and demanded, in theatrical
style, why I dared arrest a peaceable citizen in his house.  I
simply pointed to my pistol, and told him to get out of the way,
which he did.  Nash asked to get some clothing, but I told him he
should want for nothing.  We passed out, Green following us with
loud words, which brought the four sailors to the front-door, when
I told him to hush up or I would take him prisoner also.  About
that time one of the sailors, handling his pistol carelessly,
discharged it, and Green disappeared very suddenly.  We took Nash
to the cart, put him in, and proceeded back to our boat.  The next
morning we were gone.

Nash being out of the way, Boggs entered on his office, and the
right to appoint or remove from civil office was never again
questioned in California during the military regime.  Nash was an
old man, and was very much alarmed for his personal safety.  He had
come across the Plains, and had never yet seen the sea.  While on
our way down the bay, I explained fully to him the state of things
in California, and he admitted he had never looked on it in that
light before, and professed a willingness to surrender his office;
but, having gone so far, I thought it best to take him to Monterey.
On our way down the bay the wind was so strong, as we approached
the Columbus, that we had to take refuge behind Yerba Buena Island,
then called Goat Island, where we landed, and I killed a gray seal.
The next morning, the wind being comparatively light, we got out
and worked our way up to the Columbus, where I left my prisoner on
board, and went on shore to find Commodore Biddle, who had gone to
dine with Frank Ward.  I found him there, and committed Nash to his
charge, with the request that he would send him down to Monterey,
which he did in the sloop-of-war Dale, Captain Selfridge
commanding.  I then returned to Monterey by land, and, when the
Dale arrived, Colonel Mason and I went on board, found poor old Mr.
Nash half dead with sea-sickness and fear, lest Colonel Mason would
treat him with extreme military rigor.  But, on the contrary, the
colonel spoke to him kindly, released him as a prisoner on his
promise to go back to Sonoma.  surrender his office to Boggs, and
account to him for his acts while in office.  He afterward came on
shore, was provided with clothing and a horse, returned to Sonoma,
and I never have seen him since.

Matters and things settled down in Upper California, and all moved
along with peace and harmony.  The war still continued in Mexico,
and the navy authorities resolved to employ their time with the
capture of Mazatlan and Guaymas.  Lower California had already been
occupied by two companies of Stevenson's regiment, under
Lieutenant-Colonel Burton, who had taken post at La Paz, and a
small party of sailors was on shore at San Josef, near Cape San
Lucas, detached from the Lexington, Lieutenant-Commander Bailey.
The orders for this occupation were made by General Kearney before
he left, in pursuance of instructions from the War Department,
merely to subserve a political end, for there were few or no people
in Lower California, which is a miserable, wretched, dried-up
peninsula.  I remember the proclamation made by Burton and Captain
Bailey, in taking possession, which was in the usual florid style.
Bailey signed his name as the senior naval officer at the station,
but, as it was necessary to put it into Spanish to reach the
inhabitants of the newly-acquired country, it was interpreted, "El
mas antiguo de todos los oficiales de la marina," etc., which,
literally, is "the  most ancient of all the naval officers," etc.,
a translation at which we made some fun.

The expedition to Mazatlan was, however, for a different purpose,
viz., to get possession of the ports of Mazatlan and Guaymas, as a
part of the war against Mexico, and not for permanent conquest.

Commodore Shubrick commanded this expedition, and took Halleck
along as his engineer-officer.  They captured Mazatlan and Guaymas,
and then called on Colonel Mason to send soldiers down to hold
possession, but he had none to spare, and it was found impossible
to raise other volunteers either in California or Oregon, and the
navy held these places by detachments of sailors and marines till
the end of the war.  Burton also called for reenforcements, and
Naglee'a company was sent to him from Monterey, and these three
companies occupied Lower California at the end of the Mexican War.
Major Hardie still commanded at San Francisco and above; Company F,
Third Artillery, and Shannon's company of volunteers, were at
Monterey; Lippett's company at Santa Barbara; Colonel Stevenson,
with one company of his regiment, and the company of the First
Dragoons, was at Los Angeles; and a company of Mormons, reenlisted
out of the Mormon Battalion, garrisoned San Diego--and thus matters
went along throughout 1847 into 1848.  I had occasion to make
several trips to Yerba Buena and back, and in the spring of 1848
Colonel Mason and I went down to Santa Barbara in the sloop-of-war
Dale.

I spent much time in hunting deer and bear in the mountains back of
the Carmel Mission, and ducks and geese in the plains of the
Salinas.  As soon as the fall rains set in, the young oats would
sprout up, and myriads of ducks, brant, and geese, made their
appearance.  In a single day, or rather in the evening of one day
and the morning of the next, I could load a pack-mule with geese
and ducks.  They had grown somewhat wild from the increased number
of hunters, yet, by marking well the place where a flock lighted, I
could, by taking advantage of gullies or the shape of the ground,
creep up within range; and, giving one barrel on the ground, and
the other as they rose, I have secured as many as nine at one
discharge.  Colonel Mason on one occasion killed eleven geese by
one discharge of small shot.  The seasons in California are well
marked.  About October and November the rains begin, and the whole
country, plains and mountains, becomes covered with a bright-green
grass, with endless flowers.  The intervals between the rains give
the finest weather possible.  These rains are less frequent in
March, and cease altogether in April and May, when gradually the
grass dies and the whole aspect of things changes, first to yellow,
then to brown, and by midsummer all is burnt up and dry as an
ashheap.

When General Kearney first departed we took his office at Larkin's;
but shortly afterward we had a broad stairway constructed to lead
from the outside to the upper front porch of the barracks.  By
cutting a large door through the adobe-wall, we made the upper room
in the centre our office; and another side-room, connected with it
by a door, was Colonel Mason's private office.

I had a single clerk, a soldier named Baden; and William E. P.
Hartnell, citizen, also had a table in the same room.  He was the
government interpreter, and had charge of the civil archives.
After Halleck's return from Mazatlan, he was, by Colonel Mason,
made Secretary of State; and he then had charge of the civil
archives, including the land-titles, of which Fremont first had
possession, but which had reverted to us when he left the country.

I remember one day, in the spring of 1848, that two men, Americans,
came into the office and inquired for the Governor.  I asked their
business, and one answered that they had just come down from
Captain Sutter on special business, and they wanted to see Governor
Mason in person.  I took them in to the colonel, and left them
together.  After some time the colonel came to his door and called
to me.  I went in, and my attention was directed to a series of
papers unfolded on his table, in which lay about half an ounce of
placer gold.  Mason said to me, "What is that?" I touched it and
examined one or two of the larger pieces, and asked, "Is it gold?"
Mason asked me if I had ever seen native gold.  I answered that, in
1844, I was in Upper Georgia, and there saw some native gold, but
it was much finer than this, and that it was in phials, or in
transparent quills; but I said that, if this were gold, it could be
easily tested, first, by its malleability, and next by acids.  I
took a piece in my teeth, and the metallic lustre was perfect.  I
then called to the clerk, Baden, to bring an axe and hatchet from
the backyard.  When these were brought, I took the largest piece
and beat it out flat, and beyond doubt it was metal, and a pure
metal.  Still, we attached little importance to the fact, for gold
was known to exist at San Fernando, at the south, and yet was not
considered of much value.  Colonel Mason then handed me a letter
from Captain Sutter, addressed to him, stating that he (Sutter) was
engaged in erecting a saw-mill at Coloma, about forty miles up the
American Fork, above his fort at New Helvetia, for the general
benefit of the settlers in that vicinity; that he had incurred
considerable expense, and wanted a "preemption" to the
quarter-section of land on which the mill was located, embracing the
tail-race in which this particular gold had been found.  Mason
instructed me to prepare a letter, in answer, for his signature.  I
wrote off a letter, reciting that California was yet a Mexican
province, simply held by us as a conquest; that no laws of the
United States yet applied to it, much less the land laws or
preemption laws, which could only apply after a public survey.
Therefore it was impossible for the Governor to promise him (Sutter)
a title to the land; yet, as there were no settlements within forty
miles, he was not likely to be disturbed by trespassers.  Colonel
Mason signed the letter, handed it to one of the gentlemen who had
brought the sample of gold, and they departed.  That gold was the
first discovered in the Sierra Nevada, which soon revolutionized the
whole country, and actually moved the whole civilized world.  About
this time (May and June, 1848), far more importance was attached to
quicksilver.  One mine, the New Almaden, twelve miles south of San
Jose, was well known, and was in possession of the agent of a Scotch
gentleman named Forties, who at the time was British consul at
Tepic, Mexico.  Mr. Forties came up from San Blas in a small brig,
which proved to be a Mexican vessel; the vessel was seized,
condemned, and actually sold, but Forties was wealthy, and bought
her in.  His title to the quicksilver-mine was, however, never
disputed, as he had bought it regularly, before our conquest of the
country, from another British subject, also named Forties, a
resident of Santa Clara Mission, who had purchased it of the
discoverer, a priest; but the boundaries of the land attached to the
mine were even then in dispute.  Other men were in search of
quicksilver; and the whole range of mountains near the New Almaden
mine was stained with the brilliant red of the sulphuret of mercury
(cinnabar).  A company composed of T. O. Larkin, J. R. Snyder, and
others, among them one John Ricord (who was quite a character), also
claimed a valuable mine near by. Ricord was a lawyer from about
Buffalo, and by some means had got to the Sandwich Islands, where he
became a great favorite of the king, Kamehameha; was his
attorney-general, and got into a difficulty with the Rev. Mr. Judd,
who was a kind of prime-minister to his majesty.  One or the other
had to go, and Ricord left for San Francisco, where he arrived while
Colonel Mason and I were there on some business connected with the
customs. Ricord at once made a dead set at Mason with flattery, and
all sorts of spurious arguments, to convince him that our military
government was too simple in its forms for the new state of facts,
and that he was the man to remodel it.  I had heard a good deal to
his prejudice, and did all I could to prevent Mason taking him, into
his confidence. We then started back for Monterey.  Ricord was
along, and night and day he was harping on his scheme; but he
disgusted Colonel Mason with his flattery, and, on reaching
Monterey, he opened what he called a law-office, but there were
neither courts nor clients, so necessity forced him to turn his
thoughts to something else, and quicksilver became his hobby.  In
the spring of 1848 an appeal came to our office from San Jose, which
compelled the Governor to go up in person.  Lieutenant Loeser and I,
with a couple of soldiers, went along.  At San Jose the Governor
held some kind of a court, in which Ricord and the alcalde had a
warm dispute about a certain mine which Ricord, as a member of the
Larkin Company, had opened within the limits claimed by the New
Almaden Company.  On our way up we had visited the ground, and were
therefore better prepared to understand the controversy.  We had
found at New Almaden Mr. Walkinshaw, a fine Scotch gentleman, the
resident agent of Mr. Forbes.  He had built in the valley, near a
small stream, a few board-houses, and some four or five furnaces for
the distillation of the mercury.  These were very simple in their
structure, being composed of whalers' kettles, set in masonry.
These kettles were filled with broken ore about the size of
McAdam-stone, mingled with lime.  Another kettle, reversed, formed
the lid, and the seam was luted with clay.  On applying heat, the
mercury was volatilized and carried into a chimney-stack, where it
condensed and flowed back into a reservoir, and then was led in
pipes into another kettle outside.  After witnessing this process,
we visited the mine itself, which outcropped near the apex of the
hill, about a thousand feet above the furnaces.  We found wagons
hauling the mineral down the hill and returning empty, and in the
mines quite a number of Sonora miners were blasting and driving for
the beautiful ore (cinnabar). It was then, and is now, a most
valuable mine. The adit of the mine was at the apex of the hill,
which drooped off to the north.  We rode along this hill, and saw
where many openings had been begun, but these, proving of little or
no value, had been abandoned.  Three miles beyond, on the west face
of the bill, we came to the opening of the "Larkin Company."  There
was evidence of a good deal of work, but the mine itself was filled
up by what seemed a land-slide.  The question involved in the
lawsuit before the alcalde at San Jose was, first, whether the mine
was or was not on the land belonging to the New Almaden property;
and, next, whether the company had complied with all the conditions
of the mite laws of Mexico, which were construed to be still in
force in California.

These laws required that any one who discovered a valuable mine on
private land should first file with the alcalde, or judge of the
district, a notice and claim for the benefits of such discovery;
then the mine was to be opened and followed for a distance of at
least one hundred feet within a specified time, and the claimants
must take out samples of the mineral and deposit the same with the
alcalde, who was then required to inspect personally the mine, to
see that it fulfilled all the conditions of the law, before he
could give a written title.  In this case the alcalde had been to
the mine and had possession of samples of the ore; but, as the
mouth of the mine was closed up, as alleged, from the act of God,
by a land-slide, it was contended by Ricord and his associates that
it was competent to prove by good witnesses that the mine had been
opened into the hill one hundred feet, and that, by no negligence
of theirs, it had caved in.  It was generally understood that
Robert J. Walker, United States Secretary of the Treasury, was then
a partner in this mining company; and a vessel, the bark Gray
Eagle, was ready at San Francisco to sail for New York with the
title-papers on which to base a joint-stock company for speculative
uses.  I think the alcalde was satisfied that the law had been
complied with, that he had given the necessary papers, and, as at
that time there was nothing developed to show fraud, the Governor
(Mason) did not interfere.  At that date there was no public house
or tavern in San Jose where we could stop, so we started toward
Santa Cruz and encamped about ten miles out, to the west of the
town, where we fell in with another party of explorers, of whom
Ruckel, of San Francisco, was the head; and after supper, as we sat
around the camp-fire, the conversation turned on quicksilver in
general, and the result of the contest in San Jose in particular.
Mason was relating to Ruckel the points and the arguments of
Ricord, that the company should not suffer from an act of God,
viz., the caving in of the mouth of the mine, when a man named
Cash, a fellow who had once been in the quartermaster's employ as a
teamster, spoke up: "Governor Mason, did Judge Ricord say that?"
"Yes," said the Governor; and then Cash related how he and another
man, whose name he gave, had been employed by Ricord to undermine a
heavy rock that rested above the mouth of the mine, so that it
tumbled down, carrying with it a large quantity of earth, and
completely filled it up, as we had seen; "and," said Cash, "it took
us three days of the hardest kind of work."  This was the act of
God, and on the papers procured from the alcalde at that time, I
understand, was built a huge speculation, by which thousands of
dollars changed hands in the United States and were lost.  This
happened long before the celebrated McGarrahan claim, which has
produced so much noise, and which still is being prosecuted in the
courts and in Congress.

On the next day we crossed over the Santa Cruz Mountains, from
which we had sublime views of the scenery, first looking east
toward the lower Bay of San Francisco, with the bright plains of
Santa Clara and San Jose, and then to the west upon the ocean, the
town of Monterey being visible sixty miles off.  If my memory is
correct, we beheld from that mountain the firing of a salute from
the battery at Monterey, and counted the number of guns from the
white puffs of smoke, but could not hear the sound.  That night we
slept on piles of wheat in a mill at Soquel, near Santa Cruz, and,
our supplies being short, I advised that we should make an early
start next morning, so as to reach the ranch of Don Juan Antonio
Vallejo, a particular friend, who had a large and valuable
cattle-ranch on the Pajaro River, about twenty miles on our way to
Monterey.  Accordingly, we were off by the first light of day, and
by nine o'clock we had reached the ranch.  It was on a high point
of the plateau, overlooking the plain of the Pajaro, on which were
grazing numbers of horses and cattle.  The house was of adobe, with
a long range of adobe-huts occupied by the semi-civilized Indians,
who at that time did all the labor of a ranch, the herding and
marking of cattle, breaking of horses, and cultivating the little
patches of wheat and vegetables which constituted all the farming
of that day.  Every thing about the house looked deserted, and,
seeing a small Indian boy leaning up against a post, I approached
him and asked him in Spanish, "Where is the master?"  "Gone to the
Presidio" (Monterey).  "Is anybody in the house?"  "No."   "Is it
locked up?"  "Yes."   "Is no one about who can get in?"  "No."
"Have you any meat?"  "No."   "Any flour or grain?"  "No."   "Any
chickens?"  "No."   "Any eggs?"  "No."   "What do you live on?"
"Nada" (nothing).  The utter indifference of this boy, and the
tone of his answer "Nada," attracted the attention of Colonel
Mason, who had been listening to our conversation, and who
knew enough of Spanish to catch the meaning, and he exclaimed
with some feeling, "So we get nada for our breakfast."  I felt
mortified, for I had held out the prospect of a splendid
breakfast of meat and tortillas with rice, chickens, eggs, etc., at
the ranch of my friend Josh Antonio, as a justification for
taking the Governor, a man of sixty years of age, more than
twenty miles at a full canter for his breakfast.  But there was
no help for it, and we accordingly went a short distance to a
pond, where we unpacked our mules and made a slim breakfast; on
some scraps of hard bread and a bone of pork that remained in our
alforjas.  This was no uncommon thing in those days, when many
a ranchero with his eleven leagues of land, his hundreds of
horses and thousands of cattle, would receive us with all the
grandiloquence of a Spanish lord, and confess that he had nothing
in his house to eat except the carcass of a beef hung up, from
which the stranger might cut and cook, without money or price, what
he needed.  That night we slept on Salinas Plain, and the next
morning reached Monterey.  All the missions and houses at that
period were alive with fleas, which the natives looked on as
pleasant titillators, but they so tortured me that I always gave
them a wide berth, and slept on a saddle-blanket, with the saddle
for a pillow and the serape, or blanket, for a cover.  We never
feared rain except in winter.  As the spring and summer of 1848
advanced, the reports came faster and faster from the gold-mines at
Sutter's saw-mill.  Stories reached us of fabulous discoveries, and
spread throughout the land.  Everybody was talking of "Gold!
gold!" until it assumed the character of a fever.  Some of our
soldiers began to desert; citizens were fitting out trains of
wagons and packmules to go to the mines.  We heard of men earning
fifty, five hundred, and thousands of dollars per day, and for a
time it seemed as though somebody would reach solid gold.  Some of
this gold began to come to Yerba Buena in trade, and to disturb the
value of merchandise, particularly of mules, horses, tin pans, and
articles used in mining: I of course could not escape the
infection, and at last convinced Colonel Mason that it was our duty
to go up and see with our own eyes, that we might report the truth
to our Government.  As yet we had no regular mail to any part of
the United States, but mails had come to us at long intervals,
around Cape Horn, and one or two overland.  I well remember the
first overland mail.  It was brought by Kit Carson in saddle-bags
from Taos in New Mexico.  We heard of his arrival at Los Angeles,
and waited patiently for his arrival at headquarters.  His fame
then was at its height, from the publication of Fremont's books,
and I was very anxious to see a man who had achieved such feats of
daring among the wild animals of the Rocky Mountains, and still
wilder Indians of the Plains.  At last his arrival was reported at
the tavern at Monterey, and I hurried to hunt him up.  I cannot
express my surprise at beholding a small, stoop-shouldered man,
with reddish hair, freckled face, soft blue eyes, and nothing to
indicate extraordinary courage or daring.  He spoke but little, and
answered questions in monosyllables.  I asked for his mail, and he
picked up his light saddle-bags containing the great overland mail,
and we walked together to headquarters, where he delivered his
parcel into Colonel Mason's own hands.  He spent some days in
Monterey, during which time we extracted with difficulty some items
of his personal history.  He was then by commission a lieutenant in
the regiment of Mounted Rifles serving in Mexico under Colonel
Sumner, and, as he could not reach his regiment from California,
Colonel Mason ordered that for a time he should be assigned to duty
with A. J. Smith's company, First Dragoons, at Los Angeles.  He
remained at Los Angeles some months, and was then sent back to the
United Staten with dispatches, traveling two thousand miles almost
alone, in preference to being encumbered by a large party.

Toward the close of June, 1848, the gold-fever being at its height,
by Colonel Mason's orders I made preparations for his trip to the
newly-discovered gold-mines at Sutter's Fort.  I selected four good
soldiers, with Aaron, Colonel Mason's black servant, and a good
outfit of horses and pack-mules, we started by the usually traveled
route for Yerba Buena.  There Captain Fulsom and two citizens
joined our party.  The first difficulty was to cross the bay to
Saucelito.  Folsom, as quartermaster, had a sort of scow with a
large sail, with which to discharge the cargoes of ships, that
could not come within a mile of the shore.  It took nearly the
whole day to get the old scow up to the only wharf there, and then
the water was so shallow that the scow, with its load of horses,
would not float at the first high tide, but by infinite labor on
the next tide she was got off and safely crossed over to Saucelito.
We followed in a more comfortable schooner.  Having safely landed
our horses and mules, we picked up and rode to San Rafael Mission,
stopping with Don Timoteo Murphy.  The next day's journey took us
to Bodega, where lived a man named Stephen Smith, who had the only
steam saw-mill in California.  He had a Peruvian wife, and employed
a number of absolutely naked Indians in making adobes.  We spent a
day very pleasantly with him, and learned that he had come to
California some years before, at the personal advice of Daniel
Webster, who had informed him that sooner or later the United
States would be in possession of California, and that in
consequence it would become a great country.  From Bodega we
traveled to Sonoma, by way of Petaluma, and spent a day with
General Vallejo.  I had been there before, as related, in the
business of the alcalde Nash.  From Sonoma we crossed over by way
of Napa, Suisun, and Vaca's ranch, to the Puta.  In the rainy
season, the plain between the Puta and Sacramento Rivers is
impassable, but in July the waters dry up; and we passed without
trouble, by the trail for Sutter's Embarcadero.  We reached the
Sacramento River, then full of water, with a deep, clear current.
The only means of crossing over was by an Indian dugout canoe.  We
began by carrying across our packs and saddles, and then our
people.  When all things were ready, the horses were driven into
the water, one being guided ahead by a man in the canoe.  Of
course, the horses and mules at first refused to take to the water,
and it was nearly a day's work to get them across, and even then
some of our animals after crossing escaped into the woods and
undergrowth that lined the river, but we secured enough of them to
reach Sutter's Fort, three miles back from the embcarcadero, where
we encamped at the old slough, or pond, near the fort.  On
application, Captain Butter sent some Indians back into the bushes,
who recovered and brought in all our animals.  At that time there
was not the sign of a habitation there or thereabouts, except the
fort, and an old adobe-house, east of the fort, known as the
hospital.  The fort itself was one of adobe-walls, about twenty
feet high, rectangular in form, with two-story block houses at
diagonal corners.  The entrance was by a large gate, open by day
and closed at night, with two iron ship's guns near at hand.
Inside there was a large house, with a good shingle-roof, used as a
storehouse, and all round the  walls were ranged rooms, the fort
wall being the outer wall of the house.  The inner wall also was of
adobe.  These rooms were used by Captain Sutter himself and by his
people.  He had a blacksmith's shop, carpenter's shop, etc., and
other rooms where the women made blankets.  Sutter was monarch of
all he surveyed, and had authority to inflict punishment even unto
death, a power he did not fail to use.  He had horses, cattle, and
sheep, and of these he gave liberally and without price to all in
need.  He caused to be driven into our camp a beef and some sheep,
which were slaughtered for our use.  Already the goldmines were
beginning to be felt.  Many people were then encamped, some going
and some coming, all full of gold-stories, and each surpassing the
other.  We found preparations in progress for celebrating the
Fourth of July, then close at hand, and we agreed to remain over to
assist on the occasion; of course, being the high officials, we
were the honored guests.  People came from a great distance to
attend this celebration of the Fourth of July, and the tables were
laid in the large room inside the storehouse of the fort.  A man of
some note, named Sinclair, presided, and after a substantial meal
and a reasonable supply of aguardiente we began the toasts.  All
that I remember is that Folsom and I spoke for our party; others,
Captain Sutter included, made speeches, and before the celebration
was over Sutter was enthusiastic, and many others showed the
effects of the aguardiente.  The next day (namely, July 5, 1848) we
resumed our journey toward the mines, and, in twenty-five miles of
as hot and dusty a ride as possible, we reached Mormon Island.  I
have heretofore stated that the gold was first found in the
tail-race of the stew-mill at Coloma, forty miles above Sutter's
Fort, or fifteen above Mormon Island, in the bed of the American
Fork of the Sacramento River.  It seems that Sutter had employed an
American named Marshall, a sort of millwright, to do this work for
him, but Marshall afterward claimed that in the matter of the
saw-mill they were copartners.  At all events, Marshall and the
family of Mr. Wimmer were living at Coloma, where the pine-trees
afforded the best material for lumber.  He had under him four white
men, Mormons, who had been discharged from Cooke's battalion, and
some Indians.  These were engaged in hewing logs, building a
mill-dam, and putting up a saw-mill.  Marshall, as the architect,
had made the "tub-wheel," and had set it in motion, and had also
furnished some of the rude parts of machinery necessary for an
ordinary up-and-down saw-mill.

Labor was very scarce, expensive, and had to be economized.  The
mill was built over a dry channel of the river which was calculated
to be the tail-race.  After arranging his head-race, dam and
tub-wheel, he let on the water to test the goodness of his
machinery.  It worked very well until it was found that the
tail-race did not carry off the water fast enough, so he put his
men to work in a rude way to clear out the tail-race.  They
scratched a kind of ditch down the middle of the dry channel,
throwing the coarser stones to one side; then, letting on the water
again, it would run with velocity down the channel, washing away
the dirt, thus saving labor.  This course of action was repeated
several times, acting exactly like the long Tom afterward resorted
to by the miners.  As Marshall himself was working in this ditch,
he observed particles of yellow metal which he gathered up in his
hand, when it seemed to have suddenly flashed across his mind that
it was gold.  After picking up about an ounce, he hurried down to
the fort to report to Captain Sutter his discovery.  Captain Sutter
himself related to me Marshall's account, saying that, as he sat in
his room at the fort one day in February or March, 1848, a knock
was heard at his door, and he called out, "Come in."   In walked
Marshall, who was a half-crazy man at best, but then looked
strangely wild.  "What is the matter, Marshall!"  Marshall
inquired if any one was within hearing, and began to peer about the
room, and look under the bed, when Sutter, fearing that some
calamity had befallen the party up at the saw-mill, and that
Marshall was really crazy, began to make his way to the door,
demanding of Marshall to explain what was the matter.  At last he
revealed his discovery, and laid before Captain Sutter the
pellicles of gold he had picked up in the ditch.  At first, Sutter
attached little or no importance to the discovery, and told
Marshall to go back to the mill, and say nothing of what he had
seen to Mr. Wimmer, or any one else.  Yet, as it might add value to
the location, he dispatched to our headquarters at Monterey, as I
have already related, the two men with a written application for a
preemption to the quarter-section of land at Coloma.  Marshall
returned to the mill, but could not keep out of his wonderful
ditch, and by some means the other men employed there learned his
secret.  They then wanted to gather the gold, and Marshall
threatened to shoot them if they attempted it; but these men had
sense enough to know that if "placer"-gold existed at Coloma, it
would also be found farther down-stream, and they gradually
"prospected" until they reached Mormon Island, fifteen miles below,
where they discovered one of the richest placers on earth.  These
men revealed the fact to some other Mormons who were employed by
Captain Sutter at a grist-mill he was building still lower down the
American Fork, and six miles above his fort.  All of them struck
for higher wages, to which Sutter yielded, until they asked ten
dollars a day, which he refused, and the two mills on which he had
spent so much money were never built, and fell into decay.


In my opinion, when the Mormons were driven from Nauvoo, Illinois,
in 1844, they cast about for a land where they would not be
disturbed again, and fixed on California.  In the year 1845 a ship,
the Brooklyn, sailed from New York for California, with a colony of
Mormons, of which Sam Brannan was the leader, and we found them
there on our arrival in January, 1847.  When General Kearney, at
Fort Leavenworth, was collecting volunteers early in 1846, for the
Mexican War, he, through the instrumentality of Captain James
Allen, brother to our quartermaster, General Robert Allen, raised
the battalion of Mormons at Kanesville, Iowa, now Council Bluffs,
on the express understanding that it would facilitate their
migration to California.  But when the Mormons reached Salt Lake,
in 1846, they learned that they had been forestalled by the United
States forces in California, and they then determined to settle
down where they were.  Therefore, when this battalion of five
companies of Mormons (raised by Allen, who died on the way, and was
succeeded by Cooke) was discharged at Los Angeles, California, in
the early summer of 1847, most of the men went to their people at
Salt Lake, with all the money received, as pay from the United
States, invested in cattle and breeding-horses; one company
reenlisted for another year, and the remainder sought work in the
country.  As soon as the fame of the gold discovery spread through
California, the Mormons naturally turned to Mormon Island, so that
in July, 1848, we found about three hundred of them there at work.
Sam Brannan was on hand as the high-priest, collecting the tithes.
Clark, of Clark's Point, an early pioneer, was there also, and
nearly all the Mormons who had come out in the Brooklyn, or who had
staid in California after the discharge of their battalion, had
collected there.  I recall the scene as perfectly to-day as though
it were yesterday.  In the midst of a broken country, all parched
and dried by the hot sun of July, sparsely wooded with live-oaks
and straggling pines, lay the valley of the American River, with
its bold mountain-stream coming out of the Snowy Mountains to the
east.  In this valley is a fiat, or gravel-bed, which in high water
is an island, or is overflown, but at the time of our visit was
simply a level gravel-bed of the river.  On its edges men were
digging, and filling buckets with the finer earth and gravel, which
was carried to a machine made like a baby's cradle, open at the
foot, and at the head a plate of sheet-iron or zinc, punctured full
of holes.  On this metallic plate was emptied the earth, and water
was then poured on it from buckets, while one man shook the cradle
with violent rocking by a handle.  On the bottom were nailed cleats
of wood.  With this rude machine four men could earn from forty to
one hundred dollars a day, averaging sixteen dollars, or a gold
ounce, per man per day.  While the' sun blazed down on the heads of
the miners with tropical heat, the water was bitter cold, and all
hands were either standing in the water or had their clothes wet
all the time; yet there were no complaints of rheumatism or cold.
We made our camp on a small knoll, a little below the island, and
from it could overlook the busy scene.  A few bush-huts near by
served as stores, boardinghouses, and for sleeping; but all hands
slept on the ground, with pine-leaves and blankets for bedding.  As
soon as the news spread that the Governor was there, persons came
to see us, and volunteered all kinds of information, illustrating
it by samples of the gold, which was of a uniform kind,
"scale-gold," bright and beautiful.  A large variety, of every
conceivable shape and form, was found in the smaller gulches round
about, but the gold in the river-bed was uniformly "scale-gold."  I
remember that Mr. Clark was in camp, talking to Colonel Mason about
matters and things generally, when he inquired, "Governor, what
business has Sam Brannan to collect the tithes here?"  Clark
admitted that Brannan was the head of the Mormon church in
California, and he was simply questioning as to Brannan's right, as
high-priest, to compel the Mormons to pay him the regular tithes.
Colonel Mason answered, "Brannan has a perfect right to collect the
tax, if you Mormons are fools enough to pay it."   "Then," said
Clark, "I for one won't pay it any longer."  Colonel Mason added:
"This is public land, and the gold is the property of the United
States; all of you here are trespassers, but, as the Government is
benefited by your getting out the gold, I do not intend to
interfere."  I understood, afterward, that from that time the
payment of the tithes ceased, but Brannan had already collected
enough money wherewith to hire Sutter's hospital, and to open a
store there, in which he made more money than any merchant in
California, during that summer and fall. The understanding was, that
the money collected by him as tithes was the foundation of his
fortune, which is still very large in San Francisco.  That evening
we all mingled freely with the miners, and witnessed the process of
cleaning up and "panning" out, which is the last process for
separating the pure gold from the fine dirt and black sand.

The next day we continued our journey up the valley of the American
Fork, stopping at various camps, where mining was in progress; and
about noon we reached Coloma, the place where gold had been first
discovered.  The hills were higher, and the timber of better
quality.  The river was narrower and bolder, and but few miners
were at work there, by reason of  Marshall's and Sutter's claim to
the site.  There stood the sawmill unfinished, the dam and
tail-race just as they were left when the Mormons ceased work.
Marshall and Wimmer's family of wife and half a dozen children were
there, guarding their supposed treasure; living in a house made of
clapboards.  Here also we were shown many specimens of gold, of a
coarser grain than that found at Mormon Island.  The next day we
crossed the American River to its north side, and visited many
small camps of men, in what were called the "dry diggings."  Little
pools of water stood in the beds of the streams, and these were
used to wash the dirt; and there the gold was in every conceivable
shape and size, some of the specimens weighing several ounces.
Some of these "diggings" were extremely rich, but as a whole they
were more precarious in results than at the river.  Sometimes a
lucky fellow would hit on a "pocket," and collect several thousand
dollars in a few days, and then again he would be shifting about
from place to place, "prospecting," and spending all he had made.
Little stores were being opened at every point, where flour, bacon,
etc., were sold; every thing being a dollar a pound, and a meal
usually costing three dollars.  Nobody paid for a bed, for he slept
on the ground, without fear of cold or rain.  We spent nearly a
week in that region, and were quite bewildered by the fabulous
tales of recent discoveries, which at the time were confined to the
several forks of the American and Yuba Rivers.' All this time our
horses had nothing to eat but the sparse grass in that region, and
we were forced to work our way down toward the Sacramento Valley,
or to see our animals perish.  Still we contemplated a visit to the
Yuba and Feather Rivers, from which we had heard of more wonderful
"diggings;" but met a courier, who announced the arrival of a ship
at Monterey, with dispatches of great importance from Mazatlan.  We
accordingly turned our horses back to Sutter's Fort.  Crossing the
Sacramento again by swimming our horses, and ferrying their loads
in that solitary canoe, we took our back track as far as the Napa,
and then turned to Benicia, on Carquinez Straits.  We found there a
solitary adobe-house, occupied by Mr. Hastings and his family,
embracing Dr. Semple, the proprietor of the ferry.  This ferry was
a ship's-boat, with a latteen-sail, which could carry across at one
time six or eight horses.

It took us several days to cross over, and during that time we got
well acquainted with the doctor, who was quite a character.  He had
come to California from Illinois, and was brother to Senator
Semple.  He was about seven feet high, and very intelligent.  When
we first reached Monterey, he had a printing-press, which belonged
to the United States, having been captured at the custom-house, and
had been used to print custom-house blanks.  With this Dr. Semple,
as editor, published the Californian, a small sheet of news, once a
week; and it was a curiosity in its line, using two v's for a w,
and other combinations of letters, made necessary by want of type.
After some time he removed to Yerba Buena with his paper, and it
grew up to be the Alta California of today.  Foreseeing, as he
thought, the growth of a great city somewhere on the Bay of San
Francisco, he selected Carquinez Straits as its location, and
obtained from General Vallejo a title to a league of land, on
condition of building up a city thereon to bear the name of
Vallejo's wife.  This was Francisca Benicia; accordingly, the new
city was named "Francisca."  At this time, the town near the mouth
of the bay was known universally as Yerba Buena; but that name was
not known abroad, although San Francisco was familiar to the whole
civilized world.  Now, some of the chief men of Yerba Buena,
Folsom, Howard, Leidesdorf, and others, knowing the importance of a
name, saw their danger, and, by some action of the ayuntamiento, or
town council, changed the name of Yerba Buena to "San Francisco."
Dr. Semple was outraged at their changing the name to one so like
his of Francisca, and he in turn changed his town to the other name
of Mrs. Vallejo, viz., "Benicia;" and Benicia it has remained to
this day.  I am convinced that this little circumstance was big
with consequences.  That Benicia has the best natural site for a
commercial city, I am, satisfied; and had half the money and half
the labor since bestowed upon San Francisco been expended at
Benicia, we should have at this day a city of palaces on the
Carquinez Straits.  The name of "San Francisco," however, fixed the
city where it now is; for every ship in 1848-'49, which cleared
from any part of the world, knew the name of San Francisco, but not
Yerba Buena or Benicia; and, accordingly, ships consigned to
California came pouring in with their contents, and were anchored
in front of Yerba Buena, the first town.  Captains and crews
deserted for the gold-mines, and now half the city in front of
Montgomery Street is built over the hulks thus abandoned.  But Dr.
Semple, at that time, was all there was of Benicia; he was captain
and crew of his ferry boat, and managed to pass our party to the
south side of Carquinez Straits in about two days.

Thence we proceeded up Amador Valley to Alameda Creek, and so on to
the old mission of San Jose; thence to the pueblo of San Jose,
where Folsom and those belonging in Yerba Buena went in that
direction, and we continued on to Monterey, our party all the way
giving official sanction to the news from the gold-mines, and
adding new force to the "fever."

On reaching Monterey, we found dispatches from Commodore Shubrick,
at Mazatlan, which gave almost positive assurance that the war with
Mexico was over; that hostilities had ceased, and commissioners
were arranging the terms of peace at Guadalupe Hidalgo.  It was
well that this news reached California at that critical time; for
so contagious had become the "gold-fever" that everybody was
bound to go and try his fortune, and the volunteer regiment of
Stevenson's would have deserted en masse, had the men not been
assured that they would very soon be entitled to an honorable
discharge.

Many of our regulars did desert, among them the very men who had
escorted us faithfully to the mines and back.  Our servants also
left us, and nothing less than three hundred dollars a month would
hire a man in California; Colonel Mason's black boy, Aaron, alone
of all our then servants proving faithful.  We were forced to
resort to all manner of shifts to live.  First, we had a mess with
a black fellow we called Bustamente as cook; but he got the fever,
and had to go.  We next took a soldier, but he deserted, and
carried off my double-barreled shot-gun,  which I prized very
highly.  To meet this condition of facts, Colonel Mason ordered
that liberal furloughs should be given to the soldiers, and
promises to all in turn, and he allowed all the officers to draw
their rations in kind.  As the actual valve of the ration was very
large, this enabled us to live.  Halleck, Murray, Ord, and I,
boarded with Dona Augustias, and turned in our rations as pay for
our board.

Some time in September, 1848, the official news of the treaty of
peace reached us, and the Mexican War was over.  This treaty was
signed in May, and came to us all the way by land by a courier from
Lower California, sent from La Paz by Lieutenant-Colonel Burton.
On its receipt, orders were at once made for the muster-out of all
of Stevenson's regiment, and our military forces were thus reduced
to the single company of dragoons at Los Angeles, and the one
company of artillery at Monterey.  Nearly all business had ceased,
except that connected with gold; and, during that fall, Colonel
Mason, Captain Warner, and I, made another trip up to Sutter's
Fort, going also to the newly-discovered mines on the Stanislaus,
called "Sonora," named from the miners of Sonora, Mexico, who had
first discovered them.  We found there pretty much the same state
of facts as before existed at Mormon Island and Coloma, and we
daily received intelligence of the opening of still other mines
north and south.

But I have passed over a very interesting fact.  As soon as we had
returned from our first visit to the gold-mines, it became
important to send home positive knowledge of this valuable
discovery.  The means of communication with the United States were
very precarious, and I suggested to Colonel Mason that a special
courier ought to be sent; that Second-Lieutenant Loeser had been
promoted to first-lieutenant, and was entitled to go home.  He was
accordingly detailed to carry the news.  I prepared with great care
the letter to the adjutant-general of August 17, 1848, which
Colonel Mason modified in a few Particulars; and, as it was
important to send not only the specimens which had been presented
to us along our route of travel, I advised the colonel to allow
Captain Folsom to purchase and send to Washington a large sample of
the commercial gold in general use, and to pay for the same out of
the money in his hands known as the "civil fund," arising from
duties collected at the several ports in California.  He consented
to this, and Captain Folsom bought an oyster-can full at ten
dollars the ounce, which was the rate of value at which it was then
received at the custom house.  Folsom was instructed further to
contract with some vessel to carry the messenger to South America,
where he could take the English steamers as far east as Jamaica,
with a conditional charter giving increased payment if the vessel
could catch the October steamer.  Folsom chartered the bark La
Lambayecana, owned and navigated by Henry D. Cooke, who has since
been the Governor of the District of Columbia.  In due time this
vessel reached Monterey, and Lieutenant Loeser, with his report and
specimens of gold, embarked and sailed.  He reached the South
American Continent at Payta, Peru, in time; took the English
steamer of October to Panama, and thence went on to Kingston,
Jamaica, where he found a sailing vessel bound for New Orleans.  On
reaching New Orleans, he telegraphed to the War Department his
arrival; but so many delays had occurred that he did not reach
Washington in time to have the matter embraced in the President's
regular message of 1848, as we had calculated.  Still, the
President made it the subject of a special message, and thus became
"official" what had before only reached the world in a very
indefinite shape.  Then began that wonderful development, and the
great emigration to California, by land and by sea, of 1849 and
1850.

As before narrated, Mason, Warner, and I, made a second visit to
the mines in September and October, 1848.  As the winter season
approached, Colonel Mason returned to Monterey, and I remained for
a time at Sutter's Fort.  In order to share somewhat in the riches
of the land, we formed a partnership in a store at Coloma, in
charge of Norman S. Bestor, who had been Warner's clerk.  We
supplied the necessary money, fifteen hundred dollars (five hundred
dollars each), and Bestor carried on the store at Coloma for his
share.  Out of this investment, each of us realized a profit of
about fifteen hundred dollars.  Warner also got a regular leave of
absence, and contracted with Captain Sutter for surveying and
locating the town of Sacramento.  He received for this sixteen
dollars per day for his services as surveyor; and Sutter paid all
the hands engaged in the work.  The town was laid off mostly up
about the fort, but a few streets were staked off along the river
bank, and one or two leading to it.  Captain Sutter always
contended, however, that no town could possibly exist on the
immediate bank of the river, because the spring freshets rose over
the bank, and frequently it was necessary to swim a horse to reach
the boat-landing.  Nevertheless, from the very beginning the town
began to be built on the very river-bank, viz., First, Second, and
Third Streets, with J and K Streets leading back.  Among the
principal merchants and traders of that winter, at Sacramento, were
Sam Brannan and Hensley, Reading & Co.  For several years the site
was annually flooded; but the people have persevered in building
the levees, and afterward in raising all the streets, so that
Sacramento is now a fine city, the capital of the State, and stands
where, in 1848, was nothing but a dense mass of bushes, vines, and
submerged land.  The old fort has disappeared altogether.

During the fall of 1848, Warner, Ord, and I, camped on the bank of
the American River, abreast of the fort, at what was known as the
"Old Tan-Yard."  I was cook, Ord cleaned up the dishes, and Warner
looked after the horses; but Ord was deposed as scullion because he
would only wipe the tin plates with a tuft of grass, according to
the custom of the country, whereas Warner insisted on having them
washed after each meal with hot water.  Warner was in consequence
promoted to scullion, and Ord became the hostler.  We drew our
rations in kind from the commissary at San Francisco, who sent them
up to us by a boat; and we were thus enabled to dispense a generous
hospitality to many a poor devil who otherwise would have had
nothing to eat.

The winter of 1848 '49 was a period of intense activity throughout
California.  The rainy season was unfavorable to the operations of
gold-mining, and was very hard upon the thousands of houseless men
and women who dwelt in the mountains, and even in the towns.  Most
of the natives and old inhabitants had returned to their ranches
and houses; yet there were not roofs enough in the country to
shelter the thousands who had arrived by sea and by land.  The news
had gone forth to the whole civilized world that gold in fabulous
quantities was to be had for the mere digging, and adventurers came
pouring in blindly to seek their fortunes, without a thought of
house or food.  Yerba Buena had been converted into San Francisco.
Sacramento City had been laid out, lots were being rapidly sold,
and the town was being built up as an entrepot to the mines.
Stockton also had been chosen as a convenient point for trading
with the lower or southern mines.  Captain Sutter was the sole
proprietor of the former, and Captain Charles Weber was the owner
of the site of Stockton, which was as yet known as "French Camp."




CHAPTER III.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF CALIFORNIA--(CONTINUED).

1849-1850.


The department headquarters still remained at Monterey, but, with
the few soldiers, we had next to nothing to do.  In midwinter we
heard of the approach of a battalion of the Second Dragoons, under
Major Lawrence Pike Graham, with Captains Rucker, Coutts, Campbell,
and others, along.  So exhausted were they by their long march from
Upper Mexico that we had to send relief to meet them as they
approached.  When this command reached Los Angeles, it was left
there as the garrison, and Captain A. J. Smith's company of the
First Dragoons was brought up to San Francisco.  We were also
advised that the Second Infantry, Colonel B. Riley, would be sent
out around Cape Horn in sailing-ships; that the Mounted Rifles,
under Lieutenant-Colonel Loring, would march overland to Oregon;
and that Brigadier-General Persifer F. Smith would come out in
chief command on the Pacific coast.  It was also known that a
contract had been entered into with parties in New York and New
Orleans for a monthly line of steamers from those cities to
California, via Panama.  Lieutenant-Colonel Burton had come up from
Lower California, and, as captain of the Third Artillery, he was
assigned to command Company F, Third Artillery, at Monterey.
Captain Warner remained at Sacramento, surveying; and Halleck,
Murray, Ord, and I, boarded with Dona Augustias.  The season was
unusually rainy and severe, but we passed the time with the usual
round of dances and parties.  The time fixed for the arrival of the
mail-steamer was understood to be about January 1, 1849, but the
day came and went without any tidings of her.  Orders were given to
Captain Burton to announce her arrival by firing a national
salute, and each morning we listened for the guns from the fort.
The month of January passed, and the greater part of February, too.
As was usual, the army officers celebrated the 22d of February with
a grand ball, given in the new stone school-house, which Alcalde
Walter Colton had built.  It was the largest and best hall then in
California.  The ball was really a handsome affair, and we kept it
up nearly all night.  The next morning we were at breakfast:
present, Dona Augustias, and Manuelita, Halleck, Murray, and
myself.  We were dull and stupid enough until a gun from the fort
aroused us, then another and another.  "The steamer" exclaimed all,
and, without waiting for hats or any thing, off we dashed.  I
reached the wharf hatless, but the dona sent my cap after me by a
servant.  The white puffs of smoke hung around the fort, mingled
with the dense fog, which hid all the water of the bay, and well
out to sea could be seen the black spars of some unknown vessel.
At the wharf I found a group of soldiers and a small row-boat,
which belonged to a brig at anchor in the bay.  Hastily ordering a
couple of willing soldiers to get in and take the oars, and Mr.
Larkin and Mr. Hartnell asking to go along, we jumped in and pushed
off.  Steering our boat toward the spars, which loomed up above the
fog clear and distinct, in about a mile we came to the black hull
of the strange monster, the long-expected and most welcome steamer
California.  Her wheels were barely moving, for her pilot could not
see the shore-line distinctly, though the hills and Point of Pines
could be clearly made out over the fog, and occasionally a glimpse
of some white walls showed where the town lay.  A "Jacob's ladder"
was lowered for us from the steamer, and in a minute I scrambled up
on deck, followed by Larkin and Hartnell, and we found ourselves
in the midst of many old friends.  There was Canby, the
adjutant-general, who was to take my place; Charley Hoyt, my cousin;
General Persifer F. Smith and wife; Gibbs, his aide-de-camp; Major
Ogden, of the Engineers, and wife; and, indeed, many old
Californians, among them Alfred Robinson, and Frank Ward with his
pretty bride. By the time the ship was fairly at anchor we had
answered a million of questions about gold and the state of the
country; and, learning that the ship was out of fuel, had informed
the captain (Marshall) that there was abundance of pine-wood, but no
willing hands to cut it; that no man could be hired at less than an
ounce of gold a day, unless the soldiers would volunteer to do it
for some agreed-upon price.  As for coal, there was not a pound in
Monterey, or anywhere else in California.  Vessels with coal were
known to be en route around Cape Horn, but none had yet reached
California.

The arrival of this steamer was the beginning of a new epoch on the
Pacific coast; yet there she lay, helpless, without coal or fuel.
The native Californians, who had never seen a steamship, stood for
days on the beach looking at her, with the universal exclamation,
"Tan feo!"--how ugly!--and she was truly ugly when compared with
the clean, well-sparred frigates and sloops-of-war that had
hitherto been seen on the North Pacific coast.  It was first
supposed it would take ten days to get wood enough to prosecute her
voyage, and therefore all the passengers who could took up their
quarters on shore.  Major Canby relieved me, and took the place I
had held so long as adjutant-general of the Department of
California.  The time seemed most opportune for me to leave the
service, as I had several splendid offers of employment and of
partnership, and, accordingly, I made my written resignation; but
General Smith put his veto upon it, saying that he was to command
the Division of the Pacific, while General Riley was to have the
Department of California, and Colonel Loring that of Oregon.  He
wanted me as his adjutant-general, because of my familiarity with
the country, and knowledge of its then condition: At the time, he
had on his staff Gibbs as aide-de-camp, and Fitzgerald as
quartermaster.  He also had along with him quite a retinue of
servants, hired with a clear contract to serve him for a whole year
after reaching California, every one of whom deserted, except a
young black fellow named Isaac.  Mrs. Smith, a pleasant but
delicate Louisiana lady, had a white maid-servant, in whose
fidelity she had unbounded confidence; but this girl was married to
a perfect stranger, and off before she had even landed in San
Francisco.  It was, therefore, finally arranged that, on the
California, I was to accompany General Smith to San Francisco as
his adjutant-general.  I accordingly sold some of my horses, and
arranged for others to go up by land; and from that time I became
fairly enlisted in the military family of General Persifer F.
Smith.

I parted with my old commander, Colonel Mason, with sincere regret.
To me he had ever been kind and considerate, and, while stern,
honest to a fault, he was the very embodiment of the principle of
fidelity to the interests of the General Government.  He possessed
a native strong intellect, and far more knowledge of the principles
of civil government and law than he got credit for.  In private and
public expenditures he was extremely economical, but not penurious.
In cases where the officers had to contribute money for parties and
entertainments, he always gave a double share, because of his
allowance of double rations.  During our frequent journeys, I was
always caterer, and paid all the bills.  In settling with him he
required a written statement of the items of account, but never
disputed one of them.  During our time, California was, as now,
full of a bold, enterprising, and speculative set of men, who were
engaged in every sort of game to make money.  I know that
Colonel-Mason was beset by them to use his position to make a
fortune for himself and his friends; but he never bought land or
town-lots, because, he said, it was his place to hold the public
estate for the Government as free and unencumbered by claims as
possible; and when I wanted him to stop the public-land sales in San
Francisco, San Jose, etc., he would not; for, although he did not
believe the titles given by the alcaldes worth a cent, yet they
aided to settle the towns and public lands, and he thought, on the
whole, the Government would be benefited thereby.  The same thing
occurred as to the gold-mines.  He never took a title to a town lot,
unless it was one, of no real value, from Alcalde Colton, in
Monterey, of which I have never heard since.  He did take a share in
the store which Warner, Beator, and I, opened at Coloma, paid his
share of the capital, five hundred dollars, and received his share
of the profits, fifteen hundred dollars.  I think also he took a
share in a venture to China with Larkin and others; but, on leaving
California, he was glad to sell out without profit or loss.  In the
stern discharge of his duty he made some bitter enemies, among them
Henry M. Naglee, who, in the newspapers of the day, endeavored to
damage his fair name.  But, knowing him intimately, I am certain
that he is entitled to all praise for having so controlled the
affairs of the country that, when his successor arrived, all things
were so disposed that a civil form of government was an easy matter
of adjustment.  Colonel Mason was relieved by General Riley some
time in April, and left California in the steamer of the 1st May for
Washington and St. Louis, where he died of cholera in the summer of
1850, and his body is buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery. His widow
afterward married Major (since General) Don Carlos Buell, and is now
living in Kentucky.

In overhauling the hold of the steamer California, as she lay at
anchor in Monterey Bay, a considerable amount of coal was found
under some heavy duplicate machinery.  With this, and such wood as
had been gathered, she was able to renew her voyage.  The usual
signal was made, and we all went on board.  About the 1st of March
we entered the Heads, and anchored off San Francisco, near the
United States line-of-battle-ship Ohio, Commodore T. Catesby Jones.
As was the universal custom of the day, the crew of the California
deserted her; and she lay for months unable to make a trip back to
Panama, as was expected of her.  As soon as we reached San
Francisco, the first thing was to secure an office and a house to
live in.  The weather was rainy and stormy, and snow even lay on
the hills back of the Mission.  Captain Folsom, the quartermaster,
agreed to surrender for our office the old adobe custom house, on
the upper corner of the plaza, as soon as he could remove his
papers and effects down to one of his warehouses on the beach; and
he also rented for us as quarters the old Hudson Bay Company house
on Montgomery Street, which had been used by Howard & Mellua as a
store, and at that very time they were moving their goods into a
larger brick building just completed for them.  As these changes
would take some time, General Smith and Colonel Ogden, with their
wives, accepted the hospitality offered by Commodore Jones on board
the Ohio.  I opened the office at the custom house, and Gibbs,
Fitzgerald, and some others of us, slept in the loft of the Hudson
Bay Company house until the lower part was cleared of Howard's
store, after which General Smith and the ladies moved in.  There we
had a general mess, and the efforts at house-keeping were simply
ludicrous.  One servant after another, whom General Smith had
brought from New Orleans, with a solemn promise to stand by him for
one whole year, deserted without a word of notice or explanation,
and in a few days none remained but little Isaac.  The ladies had
no maid or attendants; and the general, commanding all the mighty
forces of the United States on the Pacific coast, had to scratch to
get one good meal a day for his family!  He was a gentleman of fine
social qualities, genial and gentle, and joked at every thing.
Poor Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Ogden did not bear it so philosophically.
Gibbs, Fitzgerald, and I, could cruise around and find a meal,
which cost three dollars, at some of the many restaurants which had
sprung up out of red-wood boards and cotton lining; but the general
and ladies could not go out, for ladies were rara aves at that day
in California.  Isaac was cook, chamber-maid, and everything,
thoughtless of himself, and struggling, out of the slimmest means,
to compound a breakfast for a large and hungry family.  Breakfast
would be announced any time between ten and twelve, and dinner
according to circumstances.  Many a time have I seen General Smith,
with a can of preserved meat in his hands, going toward the house,
take off his hat on meeting a negro, and, on being asked the reason
of his politeness, he would answer that they were the only real
gentlemen in California.  I confess that the fidelity of Colonel
Mason's boy "Aaron," and of General Smith's boy "Isaac," at a time
when every white man laughed at promises as something made to be
broken, has given me a kindly feeling of respect for the negroes,
and makes me hope that they will find an honorable "status" in the
jumble of affairs in which we now live.

That was a dull hard winter in San Francisco; the rains were heavy,
and the mud fearful.  I have seen mules stumble in the street, and
drown in the liquid mud!  Montgomery Street had been filled up with
brush and clay, and I always dreaded to ride on horseback along it,
because the mud was so deep that a horse's legs would become
entangled in the bushes below, and the rider was likely to be
thrown and drowned in the mud.  The only sidewalks were made of
stepping-stones of empty boxes, and here and there a few planks
with barrel-staves nailed on.  All the town lay along Montgomery
Street, from Sacramento to Jackson, and about the plaza.  Gambling
was the chief occupation of the people.  While they were waiting
for the cessation of the rainy season, and for the beginning of
spring, all sorts of houses were being put up, but of the most
flimsy kind, and all were stores, restaurants, or gambling
-saloons.  Any room twenty by sixty feet would rent for a thousand
dollars a month.  I had, as my pay, seventy dollars a month, and no
one would even try to hire a servant under three hundred dollars.
Had it not been for the fifteen hundred dollars I had made in the
store at Coloma, I could not have lived through the winter.  About
the 1st of April arrived the steamer Oregon; but her captain
(Pearson) knew what was the state of affairs on shore, and ran his
steamer alongside the line-of-battle-ship Ohio at Saucelito, and
obtained the privilege of leaving his crew on board as "prisoners"
until he was ready to return to sea.  Then, discharging his
passengers and getting coal out of some of the ships which had
arrived, he retook his crew out of limbo and carried the first
regular mail back to Panama early in April.  In regular order
arrived the third steamer, the Panama; and, as the vessels were
arriving with coal, The California was enabled to hire a crew and
get off.  From that time forward these three ships constituted the
regular line of mail-steamers, which has been kept up ever since.
By the steamer Oregon arrived out Major R. P. Hammond, J. M.
Williams, James Blair, and others; also the gentlemen who, with
Major Ogden, were to compose a joint commission to select the sites
for the permanent forts and navyyard of California.  This
commission was composed of Majors Ogden, Smith, and Leadbetter, of,
the army, and Captains Goldsborough, Van Brunt, and Blunt, of the
navy.  These officers, after a most careful study of the whole
subject, selected Mare Island for the navy-yard, and "Benicia" for
the storehouses and arsenals of the army.  The Pacific Mail
Steamship Company also selected Benicia as their depot.  Thus was
again revived the old struggle for supremacy of these  two points
as the site of the future city of the Pacific.  Meantime, however,
San Francisco had secured the name.  About six hundred ships were
anchored there without crews, and could not get away; and there the
city was, and had to be.

Nevertheless, General Smith, being disinterested and unprejudiced,
decided on Benicia as the point where the city ought to be, and
where the army headquarters should be.  By the Oregon there arrived
at San Francisco a man who deserves mention here--Baron
Steinberger.  He had been a great cattle-dealer in the United
States, and boasted that he had helped to break the United States
Bank, by being indebted to it five million dollars! At all events,
he was a splendid looking fellow, and brought with him from
Washington a letter to General Smith and another for Commodore
Jones, to the effect that he was a man of enlarged experience in
beef; that the authorities in Washington knew that there existed in
California large herds of cattle, which were only valuable for
their hides and tallow; that it was of great importance to the
Government that this beef should be cured and salted so as to be of
use to the army and navy, obviating the necessity of shipping
salt-beef around Cape Horn.  I know he had such a letter from the
Secretary of War, Marcy, to General Smith, for it passed into my
custody, and I happened to be in Commodore Jones's cabin when the
baron presented the one for him from the Secretary of the Navy.
The baron was anxious to pitch in at once, and said that all he
needed to start with were salt and barrels.  After some inquiries
of his purser, the commodore promised to let him have the barrels
with their salt, as fast as they were emptied by the crew.  Then
the baron explained that he could get a nice lot of cattle from Don
Timoteo Murphy, at the Mission of San Rafael, on the north aide of
the bay, but he could not get a boat and crew to handle them.
Under the authority from the Secretary of the Navy, the commodore
then promised him the use of a boat and crew, until he (the baron)
could find and purchase a suitable one for himself.  Then the baron
opened the first regular butcher-shop in San Francisco, on the
wharf about the foot of Broadway or Pacific Street, where we could
buy at twenty-five or fifty cents a pound the best roasts, steaks,
and cuts of beef, which had cost him nothing, for he never paid
anybody if he could help it, and he soon cleaned poor Don Timoteo
out.  At first, every boat of his, in coming down from the San
Rafael, touched at the Ohio, and left the best beefsteaks and
roasts for the commodore, but soon the baron had enough money to
dispense with the borrowed boat, and set up for himself, and from
this small beginning, step by step, he rose in a few months to be
one of the richest and most influential men in San Francisco; but
in his wild speculations he was at last caught, and became
helplessly bankrupt.  He followed General Fremont to St. Louis in
1861, where I saw him, but soon afterward he died a pauper in one
of the hospitals.  When General Smith had his headquarters in San
Francisco, in the spring of 1849, Steinberger gave dinners worthy
any baron of old; and when, in after-years, I was a banker there,
he used to borrow of me small sums of money in repayment for my
share of these feasts; and somewhere among my old packages I hold
one of his confidential notes for two hundred dollars, but on the
whole I got off easily.  I have no doubt that, if this man's
history could be written out, it would present phases as wonderful
as any of romance; but in my judgment he was a dangerous man,
without any true-sense of honor or honesty.

Little by little the rains of that season grew less and less, and
the hills once more became green and covered with flowers.  It
became perfectly evident that no family could live in San Francisco
on such a salary as Uncle Sam allowed his most favored officials;
so General Smith and Major Ogden concluded to send their families
back to the United States, and afterward we men-folks could take to
camp and live on our rations.  The Second Infantry had arrived, and
had been distributed, four companies to Monterey, and the rest
somewhat as Stevenson's regiment had been.  A. J. Smith's company
of dragoons was sent up to Sonoma, whither General Smith had
resolved to move our headquarters.  On the steamer which sailed
about May 1st (I think the California), we embarked, the ladies for
home and we for Monterey.  At Monterey we went on shore, and
Colonel Mason, who meantime had been relieved by General Riley,
went on board, and the steamer departed for Panama.  Of all that
party I alone am alive.

General Riley had, with his family, taken the house which Colonel
Mason had formerly used, and Major Canby and wife had secured rooms
at Alvarado's.  Captain Bane was quartermaster, and had his family
in the house of a man named Garner, near the redoubt.  Burton and
Company F were still at the fort; the four companies of the Second
Infantry were quartered in the barracks, the same building in which
we had had our headquarters; and the company officers were
quartered in hired buildings near by.  General Smith and his aide,
Captain Gibbs, went to Larkin's house, and I was at my old rooms at
Dona Augustias.  As we intended to go back to San Francisco by land
and afterward to travel a good deal, General Smith gave me the
necessary authority to fit out the party.  There happened to be
several trains of horses and mules in town, so I purchased about a
dozen horses and mules at two hundred dollars a head, on account of
the Quartermaster's Department, and we had them kept under guard in
the quartermaster's corral.

I remember one night being in the quarters of Lieutenant Alfred
Sully, where nearly all the officers of the garrison were
assembled, listening to Sully's stories.  Lieutenant Derby,
"Squibob," was one of the number, as also Fred Steele, "Neighbor"
Jones, and others, when, just after "tattoo," the orderly-sergeants
came to report the result of  "tattoo" roll-call; one reported five
men absent, another eight, and so on, until it became certain that
twenty-eight men had deserted; and they were so bold and open in
their behavior that it amounted to defiance.  They had deliberately
slung their knapsacks and started for the gold-mines.  Dr. Murray
and I were the only ones present who were familiar with the
country, and I explained how easy they could all be taken by a
party going out at once to Salinas Plain, where the country was so
open and level that a rabbit could not cross without being seen;
that the deserters could not go to the mines without crossing that
plain, and could not reach it before daylight.  All agreed that the
whole regiment would desert if these men were not brought back.
Several officers volunteered on the spot to go after them; and, as
the soldiers could not be trusted, it was useless to send any but
officers in pursuit.  Some one went to report the affair to the
adjutant-general, Canby, and he to General Riley.  I waited some
time, and, as the thing grew cold, I thought it was given up, and
went to my room and to bed.

About midnight I was called up and informed that there were seven
officers willing to go, but the difficulty was to get horses and
saddles.  I went down to Larkin's house and got General Smith to
consent that we might take the horses I had bought for our trip.
It was nearly three o'clock a.m. before we were all mounted and
ready.  I had a musket which I used for hunting.  With this I led
off at a canter, followed by the others.  About six miles out, by
the faint moon, I saw ahead of us in the sandy road some blue
coats, and, fearing lest they might resist or escape into the dense
bushes which lined the road, I halted and found with me Paymaster
Hill, Captain N. H. Davis, and Lieutenant John Hamilton.  We waited
some time for the others, viz., Canby, Murray, Gibbs, and Sully, to
come up, but as they were not in sight we made a dash up the road
and captured six of the deserters, who were Germans, with heavy
knapsacks on, trudging along the deep, sandy road.  They had not
expected pursuit, had not heard our horses, and were accordingly
easily taken.  Finding myself the senior officer present, I ordered
Lieutenant Hamilton to search the men and then to march them back
to Monterey, suspecting, as was the fact, that the rest of our
party had taken a road that branched off a couple of miles back.
Daylight broke as we reached the Saunas River, twelve miles out,
and there the trail was broad and fresh leading directly out on the
Saunas Plain.  This plain is about five miles wide, and then the
ground becomes somewhat broken.  The trail continued very plain,
and I rode on at a gallop to where there was an old adobe-ranch on
the left of the road, with the head of a lagoon, or pond, close by.
I saw one or two of the soldiers getting water at the pond, and
others up near the house.  I had the best horse and was
considerably ahead, but on looking back could see Hill and Davis
coming up behind at a gallop.  I motioned to them to hurry forward,
and turned my horse across the head of the pond, knowing the ground
well, as it was a favorite place for shooting geese and ducks.
Approaching the house, I ordered the men who were outside to go in.
They did not know me personally, and exchanged glances, but I had
my musket cocked, and, as the two had seen Davis and Hill coming up
pretty fast, they obeyed.  Dismounting, I found the house full of
deserters, and there was no escape for them.  They naturally
supposed that I had a strong party with me, and when I ordered them
to "fall in" they obeyed from habit.  By the time Hill and Davis
came up I had them formed in two ranks, the front rank facing
about, and I was taking away their bayonets, pistols, etc.  We
disarmed them, destroying a musket and several pistols, and, on
counting them, we found that we three had taken eighteen, which,
added to the six first captured, made twenty-four.  We made them
sling their knapsacks and begin their homeward march.  It was near
night when we got back, so that these deserters had traveled nearly
forty miles since "tattoo" of the night before.  The other party
had captured three, so that only one man had escaped.  I doubt not
this prevented the desertion of the bulk of the Second Infantry
that spring, for at that time so demoralizing was the effect of the
gold-mines that everybody not in the military service justified
desertion, because a soldier, if free, could earn more money in a
day than he received per month.  Not only did soldiers and sailors
desert, but captains and masters of ships actually abandoned their
vessels and cargoes to try their luck at the mines.  Preachers
and professors forgot their creeds and took to trade, and
even to keeping gambling-houses.  I remember that one of our
regular soldiers, named Reese, in deserting stole a favorite
double-barreled gun of mine, and when the orderly-sergeant of the
company, Carson, was going on furlough, I asked him when he came
across Reese to try and get my gun back.  When he returned he told
me that he had found Reese and offered him a hundred dollars for my
gun, but Reese sent me word that he liked the gun, and would not
take a hundred dollars for it.  Soldiers or sailors who could reach
the mines were universally shielded by the miners, so that it was
next to useless to attempt their recapture.  In due season General
Persifer Smith, Gibbs, and I, with some hired packers, started back
for San Francisco, and soon after we transferred our headquarters to
Sonoma.  About this time Major Joseph Hooker arrived from the East
--the regular adjutant-general of the division--relieved me, and I
became thereafter one of General Smith's regular aides-de-camp.

As there was very little to do, General Smith encouraged us to go
into any business that would enable us to make money.  R. P.
Hammond, James Blair, and I, made a contract to survey for Colonel
J. D. Stevenson his newly-projected city of "New York of the
Pacific," situated at the month of the San Joaquin River.  The
contract embraced, also, the making of soundings and the marking
out of a channel through Suisun Bay.  We hired, in San Francisco, a
small metallic boat, with a sail, laid in some stores, and
proceeded to the United States ship Ohio, anchored at Saucelito,
where we borrowed a sailor-boy and lead-lines with which to sound
the channel.  We sailed up to Benicia, and, at General Smith's
request, we surveyed and marked the line dividing the city of
Benicia from the government reserve.  We then sounded the bay back
and forth, and staked out the best channel up Suisun Bay, from
which Blair made out sailing directions.  We then made the
preliminary surveys of the city of "New York of the Pacific," all
of which were duly plotted; and for this work we each received from
Stevenson five hundred dollars and ten or fifteen lots.  I sold
enough lots to make up another five hundred dollars, and let the
balance go; for the city of "New York of the Pacific" never came to
any thing.  Indeed, cities at the time were being projected by
speculators all round the bay and all over the country.

While we were surveying at "New York of the Pacific," occurred one
of those little events that showed the force of the gold-fever.  We
had a sailor-boy with us, about seventeen years old, who cooked our
meals and helped work the boat.  Onshore, we had the sail spread so
as to shelter us against the wind and dew.  One morning I awoke
about daylight, and looked out to see if our sailor-boy was at work
getting breakfast; but he was not at the fire at all.  Getting up,
I discovered that he had converted a tule-bolsa into a sail boat,
and was sailing for the gold-mines.  He was astride this bolsa,
with a small parcel of bread and meat done up in a piece of
cloth; another piece of cloth, such as we used for making our
signal-stations, he had fixed into a sail; and with a paddle he was
directing his precarious craft right out into the broad bay, to
follow the general direction of the schooners and boats that he
knew were ascending the Sacramento River.  He was about a hundred
yards from the shore.  I jerked up my gun, and hailed him to come
back.  After a moment's hesitation, he let go his sheet and began
to paddle back.  This bolsa was nothing but a bundle of tule, or
bullrush, bound together with grass-ropes in the shape of a cigar,
about ten feet long and about two feet through the butt.  With
these the California Indiana cross streams of considerable size.
When he came ashore, I gave him a good overhauling for attempting
to desert, and put him to work getting breakfast.  In due time we
returned him to his ship, the Ohio.  Subsequently, I made a bargain
with Mr. Hartnell to survey his ranch at Cosnmnes River, Sacramento
Valley.  Ord and a young citizen, named Seton, were associated with
me in this.  I bought of Rodman M. Price a surveyor's compass,
chain, etc., and, in San Francisco, a small wagon and harness.
Availing ourselves of a schooner, chartered to carry Major Miller
and two companies of the Second Infantry from San Francisco to
Stockton, we got up to our destination at little cost.  I recall an
occurrence that happened when the schooner was anchored in
Carquinez Straits, opposite the soldiers' camp on shore.  We were
waiting for daylight and a fair wind; the schooner lay anchored at
an ebb-tide, and about daylight Ord and I had gone ashore for
something.  Just as we were pulling off from shore, we heard the
loud shouts of the men, and saw them all running down toward the
water.  Our attention thus drawn, we saw something swimming in the
water, and pulled toward it, thinking it a coyote; but we soon
recognized a large grizzly bear, swimming directly across the
channel.  Not having any weapon, we hurriedly pulled for the
schooner, calling out, as we neared it, "A bear! a bear!" It so
happened that Major Miller was on deck, washing his face and hands.
He ran rapidly to the bow of the vessel, took the musket from the
hands of the sentinel, and fired at the bear, as he passed but a
short distance ahead of the schooner.  The bear rose, made a growl
or howl, but continued his course.  As we scrambled up the
port-aide to get our guns, the mate, with a crew, happened to have
a boat on the starboard-aide, and, armed only with a hatchet, they
pulled up alongside the bear, and the mate struck him in the head
with the hatchet.  The bear turned, tried to get into the boat, but
the mate struck his claws with repeated blows, and made him let go.
After several passes with him, the mate actually killed the bear,
got a rope round him, and towed him alongside the schooner, where
he was hoisted on deck.  The carcass weighed over six hundred
pounds.  It was found that Major Miller's shot had struck the bear
in the lower jaw, and thus disabled him.  Had it not been for this,
the bear would certainly have upset the boat and drowned all in it.
As it was, however, his meat served us a good turn in our trip up
to Stockton.  At Stockton we disembarked our wagon, provisions, and
instruments.  There I bought two fine mules at three hundred
dollars each, and we hitched up and started for the Coaumnes River.
About twelve miles off was the Mokelumne, a wide, bold stream, with
a canoe as a ferry-boat.  We took our wagon to pieces, and ferried
it and its contents across, and then drove our mules into the
water.  In crossing, one mule became entangled in the rope of the
other, and for a time we thought he was a gone mule; but at last he
revived and we hitched up.  The mules were both pack-animals;
neither had ever before seen a wagon.  Young Seton also was about
as green, and had never handled a mule.  We put on the harness, and
began to hitch them in, when one of the mules turned his head, saw
the wagon, and started.  We held on tight, but the beast did not
stop until he had shivered the tongue-pole into a dozen fragments.
The fact was, that Seton had hitched the traces before he had put
on the blind-bridle.  There was considerable swearing done, but
that would not mend the pole.  There was no place nearer than
Sutter's Fort to repair damages, so we were put to our wits' end.
We first sent back a mile or so, and bought a raw-hide.  Gathering
up the fragments of the pole and cutting the hide into strips, we
finished it in the rudest manner.  As long as the hide was green, the
pole was very shaky; but gradually the sun dried the hide,
tightened it, and the pole actually held for about a month.  This
cost us nearly a day of delay; but, when damages were repaired, we
harnessed up again, and reached the crossing of the Cosumnes, where
our survey was to begin.  The expediente, or title-papers, of the
ranch described it as containing nine or eleven leagues on the
Cosumnes, south side, and between the San Joaquin River and Sierra
Nevada Mountains.  We began at the place where the road crosses the
Cosumnes, and laid down a line four miles south, perpendicular to
the general direction of the stream; then, surveying up the stream,
we marked each mile so as to admit of a subdivision of one mile by
four.  The land was dry and very poor, with the exception of here
and there some small pieces of bottom land, the great bulk of the
bottom-land occurring on the north side of the stream.  We
continued the survey up some twenty miles into the hills above the
mill of Dailor and Sheldon.  It took about a month to make this
survey, which, when finished, was duly plotted; and for it we
received one-tenth of the land, or two subdivisions.  Ord and I
took the land, and we paid Seton for his labor in cash.  By the
sale of my share of the land, subsequently, I realized three
thousand dollars.  After finishing Hartnell's survey, we crossed
over to Dailor's, and did some work for him at five hundred dollars
a day for the party.  Having finished our work on the Cosumnes, we
proceeded to Sacramento, where Captain Sutter employed us to
connect the survey of Sacramento City, made by Lieutenant Warner,
and that of Sutterville, three miles below, which was then being
surveyed by Lieutenant J. W. Davidson, of the First Dragoons.  At
Sutterville, the plateau of the Sacramento approached quite near
the river, and it would have made a better site for a town than the
low, submerged land where the city now stands; but it seems to be a
law of growth that all natural advantages are disregarded wherever
once business chooses a location.  Old Sutter's embarcadero became
Sacramento City, simply because it was the first point used for
unloading boats for Sutter's Fort, just as the site for San
Francisco was fixed by the use of Yerba Buena as the hide-landing
for the Mission of  "San Francisco de Asis."

I invested my earnings in this survey in three lots in Sacramento
City, on which I made a fair profit by a sale to one McNulty, of
Mansfield, Ohio.  I only had a two months' leave of absence, during
which General Smith, his staff, and a retinue of civil friends,
were making a tour of the gold-mines, and hearing that he was en
route back to his headquarters at Sonoma, I knocked off my work,
sold my instruments, and left my wagon and mules with my cousin
Charley Hoyt, who had a store in Sacramento, and was on the point
of moving up to a ranch, for which he had bargained, on Bear Creek,
on which was afterward established Camp "Far West."  He afterward
sold the mules, wagon, etc., for me, and on the whole I think I
cleared, by those two months' work, about six thousand dollars.  I
then returned to headquarters at Sonoma, in time to attend my
fellow aide-de-camp Gibbs through a long and dangerous sickness,
during which he was on board a store-ship, guarded by Captain
George Johnson, who now resides in San Francisco.  General Smith
had agreed that on the first good opportunity he would send me to
the United States as a bearer of dispatches, but this he could not
do until he had made the examination of Oregon, which was also in
his command.  During the summer of 1849 there continued to pour
into California a perfect stream of people.  Steamers came, and a
line was established from San Francisco to Sacramento, of which the
Senator was the pioneer, charging sixteen dollars a passage, and
actually coining money.  Other boats were built, out of materials
which had either come around Cape Horn or were brought from the
Sandwich Islands.  Wharves were built, houses were springing up
as if by magic, and the Bay of San Francisco presented as busy a
scene of life as any part of the world.  Major Allen, of the
Quartermaster's Department, who had come out as chief-quartermaster
of the division, was building a large warehouse at Benicia, with a
row of quarters, out of lumber at one hundred dollars per thousand
feet, and the work was done by men at sixteen dollars a day.  I
have seen a detailed soldier, who got only his monthly pay of eight
dollars a month, and twenty cents a day for extra duty, nailing on
weather-boards and shingles, alongside a citizen who was paid
sixteen dollars a day.  This was a real injustice, made the
soldiers discontented, and it was hardly to be wondered at that so
many deserted.

While the mass of people were busy at gold and in mammoth
speculations, a set of busy politicians were at work to secure the
prizes of civil government.  Gwin and Fremont were there, and T.
Butler King, of Georgia, had come out from the East, scheming for
office.  He staid with us at Sonoma, and was generally regarded as
the Government candidate for United States Senator.  General Riley
as Governor, and Captain Halleck as Secretary of State, had issued
a proclamation for the election of a convention to frame a State
constitution.  In due time the elections were held, and the
convention was assembled at Monterey.  Dr. Semple was elected
president; and Gwin, Sutter, Halleck, Butler King, Sherwood,
Gilbert, Shannon, and others, were members.  General Smith took no
part in this convention, but sent me down to watch the proceedings,
and report to him.  The only subject of interest was the slavery
question.  There were no slaves then in California, save a few who
had come out as servants, but the Southern people at that time
claimed their share of territory, out of that acquired by the
common labors of all sections of the Union in the war with Mexico.
Still, in California there was little feeling on the subject.  I
never heard General Smith, who was a Louisianian, express any
opinion about it.  Nor did Butler King, of Georgia, ever manifest
any particular interest in the matter.  A committee was named to
draft a constitution, which in due time was reported, with the
usual clause, then known as the Wilmot Proviso, excluding slavery;
and during the debate which ensued very little opposition was made
to this clause, which was finally adopted by a large majority,
although the convention was made up in large part of men from our
Southern States.  This matter of California being a free State,
afterward, in the national Congress, gave rise to angry debates,
which at one time threatened civil war.  The result of the
convention was the election of State officers, and of the
Legislature which sat in San Jose in October and November, 1849,
and which elected Fremont and Gwin as the first United States
Senators in Congress from the Pacific coast.

Shortly after returning from Monterey, I was sent by General Smith
up to Sacramento City to instruct Lieutenants Warner and
Williamson, of the Engineers, to push their surveys of the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, for the purpose of ascertaining the possibility
of passing that range by a railroad, a subject that then elicited
universal interest.  It was generally assumed that such a road
could not be made along any of the immigrant roads then in use, and
Warner's orders were to look farther north up the Feather River, or
some one of its tributaries.  Warner was engaged in this survey
during the summer and fall of 1849, and had explored, to the very
end of Goose Lake, the source of Feather River.  Then, leaving
Williamson with the baggage and part of the men, he took about ten
men and a first-rate guide, crossed the summit to the east, and had
turned south, having the range of mountains on his right hand, with
the intention of regaining his camp by another pass in the
mountain.  The party was strung out, single file, with wide spaces
between, Warner ahead.  He had just crossed a small valley and
ascended one of the spurs covered with sage-brush and rocks, when a
band of Indians rose up and poured in a shower of arrows.  The mule
turned and ran back to the valley, where Warner fell off dead,
punctured by five arrows.  The mule also died.  The guide, who was
near to Warner, was mortally wounded; and one or two men had arrows
in their bodies, but recovered.  The party gathered about Warner's
body, in sight of the Indians, who whooped and yelled, but did not
venture away from their cover of rocks.  This party of men remained
there all day without burying the bodies, and at night, by a wide
circuit, passed the mountain, and reached Williamson's camp.  The
news of Warner's death cast a gloom over all the old Californians,
who knew him well.  He was a careful, prudent, and honest officer,
well qualified for his business, and extremely accurate in all his
work.  He and I had been intimately associated during our four
years together in California, and I felt his loss deeply.  The
season was then too far advanced to attempt to avenge his death,
and it was not until the next spring that a party was sent out to
gather up and bury his scattered bones.

As winter approached, the immigrants overland came pouring into
California, dusty and worn with their two thousand miles of weary
travel across the plains and mountains.  Those who arrived in
October and November reported thousands still behind them, with
oxen perishing, and short of food.  Appeals were made for help, and
General Smith resolved to attempt relief.  Major Rucker, who had
come across with Pike.  Graham's Battalion of Dragoons, had
exchanged with Major Fitzgerald, of the Quartermaster's Department,
and was detailed to conduct this relief.  General Smith ordered him
to be supplied with one hundred thousand dollars out of the civil
fund, subject to his control, and with this to purchase at
Sacramento flour, bacon, etc., and to hire men and mules to send
out and meet the immigrants.  Major Rucker fulfilled this duty
perfectly, sending out pack-trains loaded with food by the many
routes by which the immigrants were known to be approaching, went
out himself with one of these trains, and remained in the mountains
until the last immigrant had got in.  No doubt this expedition
saved many a life which has since been most useful to the country.
I remained at Sacramento a good part of the fall of 1849,
recognizing among the immigrants many of my old personal
friends--John C. Fall, William King, Sam Stambaugh, Hugh Ewing,
Hampton Denman, etc.  I got Rucker to give these last two employment
along with the train for the relief of the immigrants.  They had
proposed to begin a ranch on my land on the Cosumnes, but afterward
changed their minds, and went out with Rucker.

While I was at Sacramento General Smith had gone on his
contemplated trip to Oregon, and promised that he would be back in
December, when he would send me home with dispatches.  Accordingly,
as the winter and rainy season was at hand, I went to San
Francisco, and spent some time at the Presidio, waiting patiently
for General Smith's return.  About Christmas a vessel arrived from
Oregon with the dispatches, and an order for me to deliver them in
person to General Winfield Scott, in New York City.  General Smith
had sent them down, remaining in Oregon for a time.  Of course I
was all ready, and others of our set were going home by the same
conveyance, viz., Rucker, Ord, A. J. Smith--some under orders, and
the others on leave.  Wanting to see my old friends in Monterey, I
arranged for my passage in the steamer of January 1, 1850, paying
six hundred dollars for passage to New York, and went down to
Monterey by land, Rucker accompanying me.  The weather was
unusually rainy, and all the plain about Santa Clara was under
water; but we reached Monterey in time.  I again was welcomed by my
friends, Dona Augustias, Manuelita, and the family, and it was
resolved that I should take two of the boys home with me and put
them at Georgetown College for education, viz., Antonio and
Porfirio, thirteen and eleven years old.  The dona gave me a bag of
gold-dust to pay for their passage and to deposit at the college.
On the 2d day of January punctually appeared the steamer Oregon.

We were all soon on board and off for home.  At that time the
steamers touched at San Diego, Acapulco, and Panama.  Our
passage down the coast was unusually pleasant.  Arrived at
Panama, we hired mules and rode across to Gorgona, on the
Cruces River, where we hired a boat and paddled down to the
mouth of the river, off which lay the steamer Crescent City.  It
usually took four days to cross the isthmus, every passenger taking
care of himself, and it was really funny to watch the efforts of
women and men unaccustomed to mules.  It was an old song to us, and
the trip across was easy and interesting.  In due time we were rowed
off to the Crescent City, rolling back and forth in the swell, and
we scrambled aboard by a "Jacob's ladder" from the stern.  Some of
the women had to be hoisted aboard by lowering a tub from the end
of a boom; fun to us who looked on, but awkward enough to the poor
women, especially to a very fat one, who attracted much notice.
General Fremont, wife and child (Lillie) were passengers with us
down from San Francisco; but Mrs. Fremont not being well, they
remained over one trip at Panama.

Senator Gwin was one of our passengers, and went through to New
York.  We reached New York about the close of January, after a safe
and pleasant trip.  Our party, composed of Ord, A. J. Smith, and
Rucker, with the two boys, Antonio and Porfirio, put up at
Delmonico's, on Bowling Green; and, as soon as we had cleaned up
somewhat, I took a carriage, went to General Scott's office in
Ninth Street, delivered my dispatches, was ordered to dine with him
next day, and then went forth to hunt up my old friends and
relations, the Scotts, Hoyts, etc., etc.

On reaching New York, most of us had rough soldier's clothing, but
we soon got a new outfit, and I dined with General Scott's family,
Mrs. Scott being present, and also their son-in-law and daughter
(Colonel and Mrs. H. L. Scott).  The general questioned me pretty
closely in regard to things on the Pacific coast, especially the
politics, and startled me with the assertion that "our country was
on the eve of a terrible civil war."  He interested me by anecdotes
of my old army comrades in his recent battles around the city of
Mexico, and I felt deeply the fact that our country had passed
through a foreign war, that my comrades had fought great battles,
and yet I had not heard a hostile shot.  Of course, I thought it
the last and only chance in my day, and that my career as a soldier
was at an end.  After some four or five days spent in New York, I
was, by an order of General Scott, sent to Washington, to lay
before the Secretary of War (Crawford, of Georgia) the dispatches
which I had brought from California.  On reaching Washington, I
found that Mr. Ewing was Secretary of the Interior, and I at once
became a member of his family.  The family occupied the house of
Mr. Blair, on Pennsylvania Avenue, directly in front of the War
Department.  I immediately repaired to the War Department, and
placed my dispatches in the hands of Mr. Crawford, who questioned
me somewhat about California, but seemed little interested in the
subject, except so far as it related to slavery and the routes
through Texas.  I then went to call on the President at the White
House.  I found Major Bliss, who had been my teacher in mathematics
at West Point, and was then General Taylor's son-in-law and private
secretary.  He took me into the room, now used by the President's
private secretaries, where President Taylor was.  I had never seen
him before, though I had served under him in Florida in 1840-'41,
and was most agreeably surprised at his fine personal appearance,
and his pleasant, easy manners.  He received me with great
kindness, told me that Colonel Mason had mentioned my name with
praise, and that he would be pleased to do me any act of favor.  We
were with him nearly an hour, talking about California generally,
and of his personal friends, Persifer Smith, Riley, Canby, and
others: Although General Scott was generally regarded by the army
as the most accomplished soldier of the Mexican War, yet General
Taylor had that blunt, honest, and stern character, that endeared
him to the masses of the people, and made him President.  Bliss,
too, had gained a large fame by his marked skill and intelligence
as an adjutant-general and military adviser.  His manner was very
unmilitary, and in his talk he stammered and hesitated, so as to
make an unfavorable impression on a stranger; but he was
wonderfully accurate and skillful with his pen, and his orders and
letters form a model of military precision and clearness.




CHAPTER IV.

MISSOURI, LOUISIANA, AND CALIFORNIA

1850-1855.


Having  returned from California in January, 1850, with dispatches
for the War Department, and having delivered them in person first
to General Scott in New York City, and afterward to the Secretary
of War (Crawford) in Washington City, I applied for and received a
leave of absence for six months.  I first visited my mother, then
living at Mansfield, Ohio, and returned to Washington, where, on
the 1st day of May, 1850, I was married to Miss Ellen Boyle Ewing,
daughter of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, Secretary of the Interior.  The
marriage ceremony was attended by a large and distinguished
company, embracing Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, T. H. Benton,
President Taylor, and all his cabinet.  This occurred at the house
of Mr. Ewing, the same now owned and occupied by Mr. F. P. Blair,
senior, on Pennsylvania Avenue, opposite the War Department.  We
made a wedding tour to Baltimore, New York, Niagara, and Ohio, and
returned to Washington by the 1st of July.  General Taylor
participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot
day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the
base of the Washington Monument.  Returning from the celebration
much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite
iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a
severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him.  It was
said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States
Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from
anybody else.  Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was
manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major
Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary.  He
rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days.


At that time there was a high state of political feeling pervading
the country, on account of the questions growing out of the new
Territories just acquired from Mexico by the war.  Congress was in
session, and General Taylor's sudden death evidently created great
alarm.  I was present in the Senate-gallery, and saw the oath of
office administered to the Vice-President, Mr. Fillmore, a man of
splendid physical proportions and commanding appearance; but on the
faces of Senators  and people could easily be read the feelings of
doubt and uncertainty that prevailed.  All knew that a change in
the cabinet and general policy was likely to result, but at the
time it was supposed that Mr. Fillmore, whose home was in Buffalo,
would be less liberal than General Taylor to the politicians of the
South, who feared, or pretended to fear, a crusade against slavery;
or, as was the political cry of the day, that slavery would be
prohibited in the Territories and in the places exclusively under
the jurisdiction of the United States.  Events, however, proved the
contrary.

I attended General Taylor's funeral as a sort of aide-decamp, at
the request of the Adjutant-General of the army, Roger Jones, whose
brother, a militia-general, commanded the escort, composed of
militia and some regulars.  Among the regulars I recall the names
of Captains John Sedgwick and W. F. Barry.

Hardly was General Taylor decently buried in the Congressional
Cemetery when the political struggle recommenced, and it became
manifest that Mr. Fillmore favored the general compromise then
known as Henry Clay's "Omnibus Bill," and that a general change of
cabinet would at once occur: Webster was to succeed Mr. Clayton as
Secretary of State, Corwin to succeed Mr. Meredith as Secretary of
the Treasury, and A. H. H. Stuart to succeed Mr. Ewing as Secretary
of the Interior.  Mr. Ewing, however, was immediately appointed by
the Governor of the State to succeed Corwin in the Senate.
These changes made it necessary for Mr. Ewing to discontinue
house-keeping, and Mr. Corwin took his home and furniture off his
hands. I escorted the family out to their home in Lancaster, Ohio;
but, before this had occurred, some most interesting debates took
place in the Senate, which I regularly attended, and heard Clay,
Benton, Foots, King of Alabama, Dayton, and the many real orators of
that day.  Mr. Calhoun was in his seat, but he was evidently
approaching his end, for he was pale and feeble in the extreme.  I
heard Mr. Webster's last speech on the floor of the Senate, under
circumstances that warrant a description.  It was publicly known
that he was to leave the Senate, and enter the new cabinet of Mr.
Fillmore, as his Secretary of State, and that prior to leaving he
was to make a great speech on the "Omnibus Bill."  Resolved to hear
it, I went up to the Capitol on the day named, an hour or so
earlier than usual.  The speech was to be delivered in the old
Senate-chamber, now used by the Supreme Court.  The galleries were
much smaller than at present, and I found them full to overflowing,
with a dense crowd about the door, struggling to reach the stairs. I
could not get near, and then tried the reporters' gallery, but found
it equally crowded; so I feared I should lose the only possible
opportunity to hear Mr. Webster.

I had only a limited personal acquaintance with any of the
Senators, but had met Mr. Corwin quite often at Mr. Ewing's house,
and I also knew that he had been extremely friendly to my father in
his lifetime; so I ventured to send in to him my card, "W. T. S.,
First-Lieutenant, Third Artillery."  He came to the door promptly,
when I said, "Mr. Corwin, I believe Mr. Webster is to speak
to-day."  His answer was, "Yes, he has the floor at one o'clock."
I then added that I was extremely anxious to hear him.  "Well,"
said he, "why don't you go into the gallery?"  I explained that it
was full, and I had tried every access, but found all jammed with
people.  "Well," said he, "what do you want of me?"  I explained
that I would like him to take me on the floor of the Senate; that I
had often seen from the gallery persons on the floor, no better
entitled to it than I.  He then asked in his quizzical way, "Are
you a foreign embassador?"  "No."  "Are you the Governor of a
State?"  "No."  "Are you a member of the other House?"  "Certainly
not"  "Have you ever had a vote of thanks by name?"  "No!"  "Well,
these are the only privileged members."  I then told him he knew
well enough who I was, and that if he chose he could take me in.
He then said, "Have you any impudence?"  I told him,  "A reasonable
amount if occasion called for it."  "Do you think you could become
so interested in my conversation as not to notice the door-keeper?"
(pointing to him).  I told him that there was not the least doubt
of it, if he would tell me one of his funny stories.  He then took
my arm, and led me a turn in the vestibule, talking about some
indifferent matter, but all the time directing my looks to his left
hand, toward which he was gesticulating with his right; and thus we
approached the door-keeper, who began asking me, "Foreign
ambassador?  Governor of a State?  Member of Congress?" etc.; but I
caught Corwin's eye, which said plainly, "Don't mind him, pay
attention to me," and in this way we entered the Senate-chamber by
a side-door.  Once in, Corwin said, "Now you can take care of
yourself," and I thanked him cordially.

I found a seat close behind Mr. Webster, and near General Scott,
and heard the whole of the speech.  It was heavy in the extreme,
and I confess that I was disappointed and tired long before it was
finished.  No doubt the speech was full of fact and argument, but
it had none of the fire of oratory, or intensity of feeling, that
marked all of Mr. Clay's efforts.

Toward the end of July, as before stated, all the family went home
to Lancaster.  Congress was still in session, and the bill adding
four captains to the Commissary Department had not passed, but was
reasonably certain to, and I was equally sure of being one of them.
At that time my name was on the muster-roll of (Light) Company C,
Third Artillery (Bragg's), stationed at Jefferson Barracks, near
St. Louis.  But, as there was cholera at St. Louis, on application,
I was permitted to delay joining my company until September.  Early
in that month, I proceeded to Cincinnati, and thence by steamboat
to St. Louis, and then to Jefferson Barracks, where I reported
for duty to Captain and Brevet-Colonel Braxton Bragg, commanding
(Light) Company C, Third Artillery.  The other officers of the
company were First-Lieutenant James A. Hardie, and afterward
Haekaliah Brown.  New horses had just been purchased for the
battery, and we were preparing for work, when the mail brought the
orders announcing the passage of the bill increasing the Commissary
Department by four captains, to which were promoted Captains
Shiras, Blair, Sherman, and Bowen.  I was ordered to take post at
St. Louis, and to relieve Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons, who
had been acting in that capacity for some months.  My commission
bore date September 27,1850.  I proceeded forthwith to the city,
relieved Captain Smith, and entered on the discharge of the duties
of the office.

Colonel N. S. Clarke, Sixth Infantry, commanded the department;
Major D. C. Buell was adjutant-general, and Captain W. S. Hancock
was regimental quartermaster; Colonel Thomas Swords was the depot
quartermaster, and we had our offices in the same building, on the
corner of Washington Avenue and Second.  Subsequently Major S. Van
Vliet relieved Colonel Swords.  I remained at the Planters' House
until my family arrived, when we occupied a house on Chouteau
Avenue, near Twelfth.

During the spring and summer of 1851, Mr. Ewing and Mr. Henry
Stoddard, of Dayton, Ohio, a cousin of my father, were much in St.
Louis, on business connected with the estate of Major Amos
Stoddard, who was of the old army, as early as the beginning of
this century.  He was stationed at the village of St. Louis at the
time of the Louisiana purchase, and when Lewis and Clarke made
their famous expedition across the continent to the Columbia River.
Major Stoddard at that early day had purchased a small farm back of
the village, of some Spaniard or Frenchman, but, as he was a
bachelor, and was killed at Fort Meigs, Ohio, during the War of
1812, the title was for many years lost sight of, and the farm was
covered over by other claims and by occupants.  As St. Louis began
to grow, his brothers and sisters, and their descendants, concluded
to look up the property.  After much and fruitless litigation, they
at last retained Mr. Stoddard, of Dayton, who in turn employed Mr.
Ewing, and these, after many years of labor, established the title,
and in the summer of 1851 they were put in possession by the United
States marshal.  The ground was laid off, the city survey extended
over it, and the whole was sold in partition.  I made some
purchases, and acquired an interest, which I have retained more or
less ever since.

We continued to reside in St. Louis throughout the year 1851, and
in the spring of 1852 I had occasion to visit Fort Leavenworth on
duty, partly to inspect a lot of cattle which a Mr. Gordon, of Cass
County, had contracted to deliver in New Mexico, to enable Colonel
Sumner to attempt his scheme of making the soldiers in New Mexico
self-supporting, by raising their own meat, and in a measure their
own vegetables.  I found Fort Leavenworth then, as now, a most
beautiful spot, but in the midst of a wild Indian country.  There
were no whites settled in what is now the State of Kansas.  Weston,
in Missouri, was the great town, and speculation in town-lots there
and thereabout burnt the fingers of some of the army-officers, who
wanted to plant their scanty dollars in a fruitful soil.  I rode on
horseback over to Gordon's farm, saw the cattle, concluded the
bargain, and returned by way of Independence, Missouri.  At
Independence I found F. X. Aubrey, a noted man of that day, who had
just made a celebrated ride of six hundred miles in six days.  That
spring the United States quartermaster, Major L. C. Easton, at Fort
Union, New Mexico, had occasion to send some message east by a
certain date, and contracted with Aubrey to carry it to the nearest
post-office (then Independence, Missouri), making his compensation
conditional on the time consumed.  He was supplied with a good
horse, and an order on the outgoing trains for an exchange.  Though
the whole route was infested with hostile Indians, and not a house
on it, Aubrey started alone with his rifle.  He was fortunate in
meeting several outward-bound trains, and there, by made frequent
changes of horses, some four or five, and reached Independence in
six days, having hardly rested or slept the whole way.  Of course,
he was extremely fatigued, and said there was an opinion among the
wild Indians that if a man "sleeps out his sleep," after such
extreme exhaustion, he will never awake; and, accordingly, he
instructed his landlord to wake him up after eight hours of sleep.
When aroused at last, he saw by the clock that he had been asleep
twenty hours, and he was dreadfully angry, threatened to murder his
landlord, who protested he had tried in every way to get him up,
but found it impossible, and had let him "sleep it out" Aubrey, in
describing his sensations to me, said he took it for granted he was
a dead man; but in fact he sustained no ill effects, and was off
again in a few days.  I met him afterward often in California, and
always esteemed him one of the best samples of that bold race of
men who had grown up on the Plains, along with the Indians, in the
service of the fur companies.  He was afterward, in 1856, killed by
R. C. Weightman, in a bar-room row, at Santa Fe, New Mexico, where
he had just arrived from California.

In going from Independence to Fort Leavenworth, I had to swim Milk
Creek, and sleep all night in a Shawnee camp.  The next day I
crossed the Kaw or Kansas River in a ferry boat, maintained by the
blacksmith of the tribe, and reached the fort in the evening.  At
that day the whole region was unsettled, where now exist many rich
counties, highly cultivated, embracing several cities of from ten
to forty thousand inhabitants.  From Fort Leavenworth I returned by
steamboat to St. Louis.

In the summer of 1852, my family went to Lancaster, Ohio; but I
remained at my post.  Late in the season, it was rumored that I was
to be transferred to New Orleans, and in due time I learned the
cause.  During a part of the Mexican War, Major Seawell, of the
Seventh Infantry, had been acting commissary of subsistence at New
Orleans, then the great depot of supplies for the troops in Texas,
and of those operating beyond the Rio Grande.  Commissaries at that
time were allowed to purchase in open market, and were not
restricted to advertising and awarding contracts to the lowest
bidders.  It was reported that Major Seawell had purchased largely
of the house of Perry Seawell & Co., Mr. Seawell being a relative
of his.  When he was relieved in his duties by Major Waggman, of
the regular Commissary Department, the latter found Perry Seawell &
Co.  so prompt and satisfactory that he continued the patronage;
for which there was a good reason, because stores for the use of
the troops at remote posts had to be packed in a particular way, to
bear transportation in wagons, or even on pack-mules; and this firm
had made extraordinary preparations for this exclusive purpose.
Some time about 1849, a brother of Major Waggaman, who had been
clerk to Captain Casey, commissary of subsistence, at Tampa Bay,
Florida, was thrown out of office by the death of the captain, and
he naturally applied to his brother in New Orleans for employment;
and he, in turn, referred him to his friends, Messrs.  Perry
Seawell & Co.  These first employed him as a clerk, and afterward
admitted him as a partner.  Thus it resulted, in fact, that Major
Waggaman was dealing largely, if not exclusively, with a firm of
which his brother was a partner.

One day, as General Twiggs was coming across Lake Pontchartrain, he
fell in with one of his old cronies, who was an extensive grocer.
This gentleman gradually led the conversation to the downward
tendency of the times since he and Twiggs were young, saying that,
in former years, all the merchants of New Orleans had a chance at
government patronage; but now, in order to sell to the army
commissary, one had to take a brother in as a partner.  General
Twiggs resented this, but the merchant again affirmed it, and gave
names.  As soon as General Twiggs reached his office, he instructed
his adjutant-general, Colonel Bliss--who told me this--to address a
categorical note of inquiry to Major Waggaman.  The major very
frankly stated the facts as they had arisen, and insisted that the
firm of Perry Seawell & Co. had enjoyed a large patronage, but
deserved it richly by reason of their promptness, fairness, and
fidelity.  The correspondence was sent to Washington, and the
result was, that Major Waggaman was ordered to St. Louis, and I was
ordered to New Orleans.

I went down to New Orleans in a steamboat in the month of
September, 1852, taking with me a clerk, and, on arrival, assumed
the office, in a bank-building facing Lafayette Square, in which
were the offices of all the army departments.  General D. Twiggs
was in command of the department, with Colonel W. W. S. Bliss
(son-in-law of General Taylor) as his adjutant-general.  Colonel A.
C. Myers was quartermaster, Captain John F. Reynolds aide-de-camp,
and Colonel A. J. Coffee paymaster.  I took rooms at the St. Louis
Hotel, kept by a most excellent gentleman, Colonel Mudge.

Mr. Perry Seawell came to me in person, soliciting a continuance of
the custom which he had theretofore enjoyed; but I told him frankly
that a change was necessary, and I never saw or heard of him
afterward.  I simply purchased in open market, arranged for the
proper packing of the stores, and had not the least difficulty in
supplying the troops and satisfying the head of the department in
Washington.

About Christmas, I had notice that my family, consisting of Mrs.
Sherman, two children, and nurse, with my sister Fanny (now Mrs.
Moulton, of Cincinnati, Ohio), were en route for New Orleans by
steam-packet; so I hired a house on Magazine Street, and furnished
it.  Almost at the moment of their arrival, also came from St.
Louis my personal friend Major Turner, with a parcel of documents,
which, on examination, proved to be articles of copartnership for a
bank in California under the title of "Lucas, Turner & Co.," in
which my name was embraced as a partner.  Major Turner was, at the
time, actually en route for New York, to embark for San Francisco,
to inaugurate the bank, in the nature of a branch of the firm
already existing at St. Louis under the name of "Lucas & Symonds."
We discussed the matter very fully, and he left with me the papers
for reflection, and went on to New York and California.

Shortly after arrived James H. Lucas, Esq., the principal of the
banking-firm in St. Louis, a most honorable and wealthy gentleman.
He further explained the full programme of the branch in
California; that my name had been included at the insistence of
Major Turner, who was a man of family and property in St. Louis,
unwilling to remain long in San Francisco, and who wanted me to
succeed him there.  He offered me a very tempting income, with an
interest that would accumulate and grow.  He also disclosed to me
that, in establishing a branch in California, he was influenced by
the apparent prosperity of Page, Bacon & Co., and further that he
had received the principal data, on which he had founded the
scheme, from B. R. Nisbet, who was then a teller in the firm of
Page, Bacon & Co., of San Francisco; that he also was to be taken
in as a partner, and was fully competent to manage all the details
of the business; but, as Nisbet was comparatively young, Mr. Lucas
wanted me to reside in San Francisco permanently, as the head of
the firm.  All these matters were fully discussed, and I agreed to
apply for a six months' leave of absence, go to San Francisco, see
for myself, and be governed by appearances there.  I accordingly,
with General Twiggs's approval, applied to the adjutant-general for
a six months' leave, which was granted; and Captain John F.
Reynolds was named to perform my duties during my absence.

During the stay of my family in New Orleans, we enjoyed the society
of the families of General Twiggs, Colonel Myers, and Colonel
Bliss, as also of many citizens, among whom was the wife of Mr.
Day, sister to my brother-in-law, Judge Bartley.  General Twiggs
was then one of the oldest officers of the army.  His history
extended back to the War of 1812, and he had served in early days
with General Jackson in Florida and in the Creek campaigns.  He had
fine powers of description, and often entertained us, at his
office, with accounts of his experiences in the earlier settlements
of the Southwest.  Colonel Bliss had been General Taylor's adjutant
in the Mexican War, and was universally regarded as one of the most
finished and accomplished scholars in the army, and his wife was a
most agreeable and accomplished lady.

Late in February, I dispatched my family up to Ohio in the
steamboat Tecumseh (Captain Pearce); disposed of my house and
furniture; turned over to Major Reynolds the funds, property, and
records of the office; and took passage in a small steamer for
Nicaragua,, en route for California.  We embarked early in March,
and in seven days reached Greytown, where we united with the
passengers from New York, and proceeded, by the Nicaragua River and
Lake, for the Pacific Ocean.  The river was low, and the little
steam canal-boats, four in number, grounded often, so that the
passengers had to get into the water, to help them over the bare.
In all there were about six hundred passengers, of whom about sixty
were women and children.  In four days we reached Castillo, where
there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this
fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the
rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded
with volcanic islands.  Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules
across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S.
Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think).  Passengers were carried
through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the
Lewis.  The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for
state-rooms, especially for those on deck.  I succeeded in reaching
the purser's office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best
state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a
lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called
to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that
those below were unendurable.  I spoke to the purser, who, at the
moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered: "I must put
their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but,
as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby
you shall not suffer."  As soon as these two women were assigned to
a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out.  Their
names were recorded as "Captain Sherman and ladies."  As soon as
things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at
last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on
deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room
all to themselves.  At every meal the steward would come to me, and
say, "Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?"
and we had the best seats in the ship.

This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that "my ladies"
were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time
after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers
came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D---, with flaxen
tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my
especial escort.  I replied I did not, more than the chance
acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz.,
that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne
Hill.  He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.
Society in California was then decidedly mixed.  In due season the
steamship Lewis got under weigh.  She was a wooden ship, long and
narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over
eight miles an hour.  We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen
days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed
we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the
next day.  The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the
steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for
the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very
clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship.  Late at
night all the passengers went to bed, expecting to enter the port
at daylight.  I did not undress, as I thought the captain could and
would run in at night, and I lay down with my clothes on.  About 4
A. M. I was awakened by a bump and sort of grating of the vessel,
which I thought was our arrival at the wharf in San Francisco; but
instantly the ship struck heavily; the engines stopped, and the
running to and fro on deck showed that something was wrong.  In a
moment I was out of my state-room, at the bulwark, holding fast to
a stanchion, and looking over the side at the white and seething
water caused by her sudden and violent stoppage.  The sea was
comparatively smooth, the night pitch-dark, and the fog deep and
impenetrable; the ship would rise with the swell, and come down
with a bump and quiver that was decidedly unpleasant.  Soon the
passengers were out of their rooms, undressed, calling for help,
and praying as though the ship were going to sink immediately.  Of
course she could not sink, being already on the bottom, and the
only question was as to the strength of hull to stand the bumping
and straining.  Great confusion for a time prevailed, but soon I
realized that the captain had taken all proper precautions to
secure his boats, of which there were six at the davits.  These are
the first things that steerage-passengers make for in case of
shipwreck, and right over my head I heard the captain's voice say
in a low tone, but quite decided: "Let go that falls, or, damn you,
I'll blow your head off!"  This seemingly harsh language gave me
great comfort at the time, and on saying so to the captain
afterward, he explained that it was addressed to a passenger who
attempted to lower one of the boats.  Guards, composed of the crew,
were soon posted to prevent any interference with the boats, and
the officers circulated among the passengers the report that there
was no immediate danger; that, fortunately, the sea was smooth;
that we were simply aground, and must quietly await daylight.

They advised the passengers to keep quiet, and the ladies and
children to dress and sit at the doors of their state-rooms, there
to await the advice and action of the officers of the ship, who
were perfectly cool and self-possessed.  Meantime the ship was
working over a reef-for a time I feared she would break in two;
but, as the water gradually rose inside to a level with the sea
outside, the ship swung broadside to the swell, and all her keel
seemed to rest on the rock or sand.  At no time did the sea break
over the deck--but the water below drove all the people up to the
main-deck and to the promenade-deck, and thus we remained for about
three hours, when daylight came; but there was a fog so thick that
nothing but water could be seen.  The captain caused a boat to be
carefully lowered, put in her a trustworthy officer with a
boat-compass, and we saw her depart into the fog.  During her
absence the ship's bell was kept tolling.  Then the fires were all
out, the ship full of water, and gradually breaking up, wriggling
with every swell like a willow basket--the sea all round us full of
the floating fragments of her sheeting, twisted and torn into a
spongy condition.  In less than an hour the boat returned, saying
that the beach was quite near, not more than a mile away, and had a
good place for landing.  All the boats were then carefully lowered,
and manned by crews belonging to the ship; a piece of the gangway,
on the leeward side, was cut away, and all the women, and a few of
the worst-scared men, were lowered into the boats, which pulled for
shore.  In a comparatively short time the boats returned, took new
loads, and the debarkation was afterward carried on quietly and
systematically.  No baggage was allowed to go on shore except bags
or parcels carried in the hands of passengers.  At times the fog
lifted so that we could see from the wreck the tops of the hills,
and the outline of the shore; and I remember sitting on, the upper
or hurricane deck with the captain, who had his maps and compass
before him, and was trying to make out where the ship was.  I
thought I recognized the outline of the hills below the mission of
Dolores, and so stated to him; but he called my attention to the
fact that the general line of hills bore northwest, whereas the
coast south of San Francisco bears due north and south.  He
therefore concluded that the ship had overrun her reckoning, and
was then to the north of San Francisco.  He also explained that,
the passage up being longer than usual, viz., eighteen days, the
coal was short; that at the time the firemen were using some cut-up
spars along with the slack of coal, and that this fuel had made
more than usual steam, so that the ship must have glided along
faster than reckoned.  This proved to be the actual case, for, in
fact, the steamship Lewis was wrecked April 9, 1853, on "Duckworth
Reef," Baulinas Bay, about eighteen miles above the entrance to San
Francisco.

The captain had sent ashore the purser in the first boat, with
orders to work his way to the city as soon as possible, to report
the loss of his vessel, and to bring back help.  I remained on the
wreck till among the last of the passengers, managing to get a can
of crackers and some sardines out of the submerged pantry, a thing
the rest of the passengers did not have, and then I went quietly
ashore in one of the boats.  The passengers were all on the beach,
under a steep bluff; had built fires to dry their clothes, but had
seen no human being, and had no idea where they were.  Taking along
with me a fellow-passenger, a young chap about eighteen years old,
I scrambled up the bluff, and walked back toward the hills, in
hopes to get a good view of some known object.  It was then the
month of April, and the hills were covered with the beautiful
grasses and flowers of that season of the year.  We soon found
horse paths and tracks, and following them we came upon a drove of
horses grazing at large, some of which had saddle-marks.  At about
two miles from the beach we found a corral; and thence, following
one of the strongest-marked paths, in about a mile more we
descended into a valley, and, on turning a sharp point, reached a
board shanty, with a horse picketed near by.  Four men were inside
eating a meal.  I inquired if any of the Lewis's people had been
there; they did not seem to understand what I meant when I
explained to them that about three miles from them, and beyond the
old corral, the steamer Lewis was wrecked, and her passengers were
on the beach.  I inquired where we were, and they answered, "At
Baulinas Creek;" that they were employed at a saw-mill just above,
and were engaged in shipping lumber to San Francisco; that a
schooner loaded with lumber was then about two miles down the
creek, waiting for the tide to get out, and doubtless if we would
walk down they would take us on board.

I wrote a few words back to the captain, telling him where he was,
and that I would hurry to the city to send him help.  My companion
and I their went on down the creek, and soon descried the schooner
anchored out in the stream.  On being hailed, a small boat came in
and took us on board.  The "captain" willingly agreed for a small
sum to carry us down to San Francisco; and, as his whole crew
consisted of a small boy about twelve years old, we helped him to
get up his anchor and pole the schooner down the creek and out over
the bar on a high tide.  This must have been about 2 P.M. Once over
the bar, the sails were hoisted, and we glided along rapidly with a
strong, fair, northwest wind.  The fog had lifted, so we could see
the shores plainly, and the entrance to the bay.  In a couple of
hours we were entering the bay, and running "wing-and-wing."
Outside the wind was simply the usual strong breeze; but, as it
passes through the head of the Golden Gate, it increases, and
there, too, we met a strong ebb-tide.

The schooner was loaded with lumber, much of which was on deck,
lashed down to ring bolts with raw-hide thongs.  The captain was
steering, and I was reclining on the lumber, looking at the
familiar shore, as we approached Fort Point, when I heard a sort of
cry, and felt the schooner going over.  As we got into the throat
of the "Heads," the force of the wind, meeting a strong ebb-tide,
drove the nose of the schooner under water; she dove like a duck,
went over on her side, and began, to drift out with the tide.  I
found myself in the water, mixed up with pieces of plank and ropes;
struck out, swam round to the stern, got on the keel, and clambered
up on the side.  Satisfied that she could not sink, by reason of
her cargo, I was not in the least alarmed, but thought two
shipwrecks in one day not a good beginning for a new, peaceful
career.  Nobody was drowned, however; the captain and crew were
busy in securing such articles as were liable to float off, and I
looked out for some passing boat or vessel to pick us up.  We were
drifting steadily out to sea, while I was signaling to a boat about
three miles off, toward Saucelito, and saw her tack and stand
toward us.  I was busy watching this sail-boat, when I heard a
Yankee's voice, close behind, saying, "This is a nice mess you've
got yourselves into," and looking about I saw a man in a small
boat, who had seen us upset, and had rowed out to us from a
schooner anchored close under the fort.  Some explanations were
made, and when the sail-boat coming from Saucelito was near enough
to be spoken to, and the captain had engaged her to help his
schooner, we bade him good by, and got the man in the small boat-to
carry us ashore, and land us at the foot of the bluff, just below
the fort.  Once there, I was at home, and we footed it up to the
Presidio.  Of the sentinel I inquired who was in command of the
post, and was answered, "Major Merchant."  He was not then in, but
his adjutant, Lieutenant Gardner, was.  I sent my card to him; he
came out, and was much surprised to find me covered with sand, and
dripping with water, a good specimen of a shipwrecked mariner.  A
few words of explanation sufficed; horses were provided, and we
rode hastily into the city, reaching the office of the Nicaragua
Steamship Company (C. K. Garrison, agent) about dark, just as the
purser had arrived; by a totally different route.  It was too late
to send relief that night, but by daylight next morning two
steamers were en route for and reached the place of wreck in time
to relieve the passengers and bring them, and most of the baggage.
I lost my carpet-bag, but saved my trunk.  The Lewis went to pieces
the night after we got off, and, had there been an average sea
during the night of our shipwreck, none of us probably would have
escaped.  That evening in San Francisco I hunted up Major Turner,
whom I found boarding, in company with General E. A. Hitchcock, at
a Mrs. Ross's, on Clay Street, near Powell.  I took quarters with
them, and began to make my studies, with a view to a decision
whether it was best to undertake this new and untried scheme of
banking, or to return to New Orleans and hold on to what I then
had, a good army commission.

At the time of my arrival, San Francisco was an the top wave of
speculation and prosperity.  Major Turner had rented at six hundred
dollars a month the office formerly used and then owned by Adams &
Co., on the east side of Montgomery Street, between Sacramento and
California Streets.  B. R. Nisbet was the active partner, and James
Reilly the teller.  Already the bank of Lucas, Turner & Co.  was
established, and was engaged in selling bills of exchange,
receiving deposits, and loaning money at three per cent.  a month.

Page, Bacon & Co., and Adams & Co., were in full blast across the
street, in Parrott's new granite building, and other bankers were
doing seemingly a prosperous business, among them Wells, Fargo &
Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church; Burgoyne & Co.; James King of Win.;
Sanders & Brenham; Davidson & Co.; Palmer, Cook & Co., and others.
Turner and I had rooms at Mrs. Ross's, and took our meals at
restaurants down-town, mostly at a Frenchman's named Martin, on the
southwest corner of Montgomery and California Streets.  General
Hitchcock, of the army, commanding the Department of California,
usually messed with us; also a Captain Mason, and Lieutenant
Whiting, of the Engineer Corps.  We soon secured a small share of
business, and became satisfied there was room for profit.
Everybody seemed to be making money fast; the city was being
rapidly extended and improved; people paid their three per cent. a
month interest without fail, and without deeming it excessive.
Turner, Nisbet, and I, daily discussed the prospects, and gradually
settled down to the conviction that with two hundred thousand
dollars capital, and a credit of fifty thousand dollars in New
York, we could build up a business that would help the St. Louis
house, and at the same time pay expenses in California, with a
reasonable profit.  Of course, Turner never designed to remain long
in California, and I consented to go back to St. Louis, confer with
Mr. Lucas and Captain Simonds, agree upon further details, and then
return permanently.

I have no memoranda by me now by which to determine the fact, but
think I returned to New York in July, 1853, by the Nicaragua route,
and thence to St. Louis by way of Lancaster, Ohio, where my family
still was.  Mr. Lucas promptly agreed to the terms proposed, and
further consented, on the expiration of the lease of the Adams &
Co.  office, to erect a new banking-house in San Francisco, to cost
fifty thousand dollars.  I then returned to Lancaster, explained to
Mr. Ewing and Mrs. Sherman all the details of our agreement, and,
meeting their approval, I sent to the Adjutant-General of the army
my letter of resignation, to take effect at the end of the six
months' leave, and the resignation was accepted, to take effect
September 6, 1853.  Being then a citizen, I engaged a passage out
to California by the Nicaragua route, in the steamer leaving New
York September 20th, for myself and family, and accordingly
proceeded to New York, where I had a conference with Mr. Meigs,
cashier of the American Exchange Bank, and with Messrs.  Wadsworth
& Sheldon, bankers, who were our New York correspondents; and on
the 20th embarked for San Juan del Norte, with the family, composed
of Mrs. Sherman, Lizzie, then less than a year old, and her nurse,
Mary Lynch.  Our passage  down was uneventful, and, on the boats up
the Nicaragua River, pretty much the same as before.  On reaching
Virgin Bay, I engaged a native with three mules to carry us across
to the Pacific, and as usual the trip partook of the ludicrous
--Mrs. Sherman mounted on a donkey about as large as a Newfoundland
dog; Mary Lynch on another, trying to carry Lizzie on a pillow
before her, but her mule had a fashion of lying down, which scared
her, till I exchanged mules, and my California spurs kept that mule
on his legs.  I carried Lizzie some time till she was fast asleep,
when I got our native man to carry her awhile.  The child woke up,
and, finding herself in the hands of a dark-visaged man, she yelled
most lustily till I got her away.  At the summit of the pass, there
was a clear-running brook, where we rested an hour, and bathed
Lizzie in its sweet waters.  We then continued to the end of our
journey, and, without going to the tavern at San Juan del Sur, we
passed directly to the vessel, then at anchor about two miles out.
To reach her we engaged a native boat, which had to be kept outside
the surf.  Mrs. Sherman was first taken in the arms of two stout
natives; Mary Lynch, carrying Lizzie, was carried by two others;
and I followed, mounted on the back of a strapping fellow, while
fifty or a hundred others were running to and fro, cackling like
geese.

Mary Lynch got scared at the surf, and began screaming like a fool,
when Lizzie became convulsed with fear, and one of the natives
rushed to her, caught her out of Mary's arms, and carried her
swiftly to Mrs. Sherman, who, by that time, was in the boat, but
Lizzie had fainted with fear, and for a long time sobbed as though
permanently injured.  For years she showed symptoms that made us
believe she had never entirely recovered from the effects of the
scare.  In due time we reached the steamer Sierra Nevada, and got a
good state-room.  Our passage up the coast was pleasant enough; we
reached San Francisco; on the 15th of October, and took quarters at
an hotel on Stockton Street, near Broadway.

Major Turner remained till some time in November, when he also
departed for the East, leaving me and Nisbet to manage the bank.  I
endeavored to make myself familiar with the business, but of course
Nisbet kept the books, and gave his personal attention to the
loans, discounts, and drafts, which yielded the profits.  I soon
saw, however, that the three per cent. charged as premium on bills
of exchange was not all profit, but out of this had to come one and
a fourth to one and a half for freight, one and a third for
insurance, with some indefinite promise of a return premium; then,
the, cost of blanks, boxing of the bullion, etc., etc.  Indeed, I
saw no margin for profit at all.  Nisbet, however, who had long
been familiar with the business, insisted there was a profit, in
the fact that the gold-dust or bullion shipped was more valuable
than its cost to us.  We, of course, had to remit bullion to meet
our bills on New York, and bought crude gold-dust, or bars refined
by Kellogg & Humbert or E. Justh & Co., for at that time the United
States Mint was not in operation.  But, as the reports of our
shipments came back from New York, I discovered that I was right,
and Nisbet was wrong; and, although we could not help selling our
checks on New York and St. Louis at the same price as other
bankers, I discovered that, at all events, the exchange business in
San Francisco was rather a losing business than profitable.  The
same as to loans.  We could loan, at three per cent. a month, all
our own money, say two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and a
part of our deposit account.  This latter account in California was
decidedly uncertain.  The balance due depositors would run down to
a mere nominal sum on steamer-days, which were the 1st and 15th of
each month, and then would increase till the next steamer-day, so
that we could not make use of any reasonable part of this balance
for loans beyond the next steamer-day; or, in other words, we had
an expensive bank, with expensive clerks, and all the machinery for
taking care of other people's money for their benefit, without
corresponding profit.  I also saw that loans were attended with
risk commensurate with the rate; nevertheless, I could not attempt
to reform the rules and customs established by others before me,
and had to drift along with the rest toward that Niagara that none
foresaw at the time.

Shortly after arriving out in 1853, we looked around for a site for
the new bank, and the only place then available on Montgomery
Street, the Wall Street of San Francisco, was a lot at the corner
of Jackson Street, facing Montgomery, with an alley on the north,
belonging to James Lick.  The ground was sixty by sixty-two feet,
and I had to pay for it thirty-two thousand dollars.  I then made a
contract with the builders, Keyser, & Brown, to erect a three-story
brick building, with finished basement, for about fifty thousand
dollars.  This made eighty-two thousand instead of fifty thousand
dollars, but I thought Mr. Lucas could stand it and would approve,
which he did, though it resulted in loss to him.  After the civil
war, he told me he had sold the building for forty thousand
dollars, about half its cost, but luckily gold was then at 250, so
that he could use the forty thousand dollars gold as the equivalent
of one hundred thousand dollars currency.  The building was
erected; I gave it my personal supervision, and it was strongly and
thoroughly built, for I saw it two years ago, when several
earthquakes had made no impression on it; still, the choice of site
was unfortunate, for the city drifted in the opposite direction,
viz., toward Market Street.  I then thought that all the heavy
business would remain toward the foot of Broadway and Jackson
Street, because there were the deepest water and best wharves, but
in this I made a mistake.  Nevertheless, in the spring of 1854, the
new bank was finished, and we removed to it, paying rents
thereafter to our Mr. Lucas instead of to Adams & Co.  A man named
Wright, during the same season, built a still finer building just
across the street from us; Pioche, Bayerque & Co. were already
established on another corner of Jackson Street, and the new
Metropolitan Theatre was in progress diagonally opposite us.
During the whole of 1854 our business steadily grew, our average
deposits going up to half a million, and our sales of exchange and
consequent shipment of bullion averaging two hundred thousand
dollars per steamer.  I signed all bills of exchange, and insisted
on Nisbet consulting me on loans and discounts.  Spite of every
caution, however, we lost occasionally by bad loans, and worse by
the steady depreciation of real estate.  The city of San Francisco
was then extending her streets, sewering them, and planking them,
with three-inch lumber.  In payment for the lumber and the work of
contractors, the city authorities paid scrip in even sums of one
hundred, five hundred, one thousand, and five thousand dollars.
These formed a favorite collateral for loans at from fifty to sixty
cents on the dollar, and no one doubted their ultimate value,
either by redemption or by being converted into city bonds.
The notes also of H. Meiggs, Neeley Thompson & Co., etc.,
lumber-dealers, were favorite notes, for they paid their interest
promptly, and lodged large margins of these street-improvement
warrants as collateral.  At that time, Meiggs was a prominent man,
lived in style in a large house on Broadway, was a member of the
City Council, and owned large saw-mills up the coast about
Mendocino.  In him Nisbet had unbounded faith, but, for some
reason, I feared or mistrusted him, and remember that I cautioned
Nisbet not to extend his credit, but to gradually contract his
loans.  On looking over our bills receivable, then about six
hundred thousand dollars, I found Meiggs, as principal or indorser,
owed us about eighty thousand dollars--all, however, secured by
city warrants; still, he kept bank accounts elsewhere, and was
generally a borrower.  I instructed Nisbet to insist on his
reducing his line as the notes matured, and, as he found it
indelicate to speak to Meiggs, I instructed him to refer him to me;
accordingly, when, on the next steamer-day, Meiggs appealed at the
counter for a draft on Philadelphia, of about twenty thousand
dollars, for which he offered his note and collateral, he was
referred to me, and I explained to him that our draft was the same
as money; that he could have it for cash, but that we were already
in advance to him some seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars, and
that instead of increasing the amount I must insist on its
reduction.  He inquired if I mistrusted his ability, etc.  I
explained, certainly not, but that our duty was to assist those who
did all their business with us, and, as our means were necessarily
limited, I must restrict him to some reasonable sum, say,
twenty-five thousand dollars.  Meiggs invited me to go with him to a
rich mercantile house on Clay Street, whose partners belonged in
Hamburg, and there, in the presence of the principals of the house,
he demonstrated, as clearly as a proposition in mathematics, that
his business at Mendocino was based on calculations that could not
fail.  The bill of exchange which he wanted, he said would make the
last payment on a propeller already built in Philadelphia, which
would be sent to San Francisco, to tow into and out of port the
schooners and brigs that were bringing his lumber down the coast. I
admitted all he said, but renewed my determination to limit his
credit to twenty-five thousand dollars.  The Hamburg firm then
agreed to accept for him the payment of all his debt to us, except
the twenty-five thousand dollars, payable in equal parts for the
next three steamer-days.  Accordingly, Meiggs went back with me to
our bank, wrote his note for twenty-five thousand dollars, and
secured it by mortgage on real estate and city warrants, and
substituted the three acceptances of the Hamburg firm for the
overplus.  I surrendered to him all his former notes, except one for
which he was indorser.  The three acceptances duly matured and were
paid; one morning Meiggs and family were missing, and it was
discovered they had embarked in a sailing-vessel for South America.
This was the beginning of a series of failures in San Francisco,
that extended through the next two years.  As soon as it was known
that Meiggs had fled, the town was full of rumors, and everybody was
running to and fro to secure his money.  His debts amounted to
nearly a million dollars.  The Hamburg house which, had been
humbugged, were heavy losers and failed, I think.  I took possession
of Meiggs's dwelling-house and other property for which I held his
mortgage, and in the city warrants thought I had an overplus; but it
transpired that Meiggs, being in the City Council, had issued
various quantities of street scrip, which was adjudged a forgery,
though, beyond doubt, most of it, if not all, was properly signed,
but fraudulently issued.  On this city scrip our bank must have lost
about ten thousand dollars.  Meiggs subsequently turned up in Chili,
where again he rose to wealth and has paid much of his San Francisco
debts, but none to us.  He is now in Peru, living like a prince.
With Meiggs fell all the lumber-dealers, and many persons dealing in
city scrip.  Compared with others, our loss was a trifle.  In a
short time things in San Francisco resumed their wonted course, and
we generally laughed at the escapade of Meiggs, and the cursing of
his deluded creditors.

Shortly after our arrival in San Francisco, I rented of a Mr.
Marryat, son of the English Captain Marryat, the author, a small
frame-house on Stockton Street, near Green, buying of him his
furniture, and we removed to it about December 1,1853.  Close by,
around on Green Street, a man named Dickey was building two small
brick-houses, on ground which he had leased of Nicholson.  I bought
one of these houses, subject to the ground-rent, and moved into it
as soon as finished.  Lieutenant T. H. Stevens, of the United
States Navy, with his family, rented the other; we lived in this
house throughout the year 1854, and up to April 17, 1855.




CHAPTER V.

CALIFORNIA

1855-1857


During  the winter of 1854-'55, I received frequent intimations in
my letters from the St. Louis house, that the bank of Page, Bacon &
Co.  was in trouble, growing out of their relations to the Ohio &
Mississippi Railroad, to the contractors for building which they
had made large advances, to secure which they had been compelled to
take, as it were, an assignment of the contract itself, and finally
to assume all the liabilities of the contractors.  Then they had to
borrow money in New York, and raise other money from time to time,
in the purchase of iron and materials for the road, and to pay the
hands.  The firm in St. Louis and that in San Francisco were
different, having different partners, and the St. Louis house
naturally pressed the San Francisco firm to ship largely of
"gold-dust," which gave them a great name; also to keep as large a
balance as possible in New York to sustain their credit.  Mr. Page
was a very wealthy man, but his wealth consisted mostly of land and
property in St. Louis.  He was an old man, and a good one; had been
a baker, and knew little of banking as a business.  This part of
his general business was managed exclusively by his son-in-law,
Henry D. Bacon, who was young, handsome, and generally popular.
How he was drawn into that affair of the Ohio & Mississippi road I
have no means of knowing, except by hearsay.  Their business in New
York was done through the American Exchange Bank, and through
Duncan, Sherman & Co.  As we were rival houses, the St. Louis
partners removed our account from the American Exchange Bank to the
Metropolitan Bank; and, as Wadsworth & Sheldon had failed, I was
instructed to deal in time bills, and in European exchange, with
Schnchardt & Gebhard, bankers in Nassau Street.

In California the house of Page, Bacon & Co.  was composed of the
same partners as in St. Louis, with the addition of Henry Haight,
Judge Chambers, and young Frank Page.  The latter had charge of the
"branch" in Sacramento.  Haight was the real head-man, but he was
too fond of lager-beer to be in trusted with so large a business.
Beyond all comparison, Page, Bacon & Co.  were the most prominent
bankers in California in 1853-'55.  Though I had notice of danger
in that quarter, from our partners in St. Louis, nobody in
California doubted their wealth and stability.  They must have had,
during that winter, an average deposit account of nearly two
million dollars, of which seven hundred thousand dollars was in
"certificates of deposit," the most stable of all accounts in a
bank.  Thousands of miners invested their earnings in such
certificates, which they converted into drafts on New York, when
they were ready to go home or wanted to send their "pile" to their
families.  Adams & Co. were next in order, because of their
numerous offices scattered throughout the mining country.  A
gentleman named Haskell had been in charge of Adams & Co. in San
Francisco, but in the winter of 1854-'55 some changes were made,
and the banking department had been transferred to a magnificent
office in Halleck's new Metropolitan Block.  James King of Wm.  had
discontinued business on his own account, and been employed by
Adams & Co. as their cashier and banker, and Isaiah C. Wood had
succeeded Haskell in chief control of the express department.
Wells, Fargo & Co. were also bankers as well as expressmen, and
William J. Pardee was the resident partner.

As the mail-steamer came in on February 17, 1855, according to her
custom, she ran close to the Long Wharf (Meiggs's) on North Beach,
to throw ashore the express-parcels of news for speedy delivery.
Some passenger on deck called to a man of his acquaintance standing
on the wharf, that Page & Bacon had failed in New York.  The news
spread like wild-fire, but soon it was met by the newspaper
accounts to the effect that some particular acceptances of Page &
Bacon, of St. Louis, in the hands of Duncan, Sherman & Co., in New
York, had gone to protest.  All who had balances at Page, Bacon &
Co.'s, or held certificates of deposit, were more or less alarmed,
wanted to secure their money, and a general excitement pervaded the
whole community.  Word was soon passed round that the matter
admitted of explanation, viz., that the two houses were distinct
and separate concerns, that every draft of the California house had
been paid in New York, and would continue to be paid.  It was
expected that this assertion would quiet the fears of the
California creditors, but for the next three days there was a
steady "run" on that bank.  Page, Bacon & Co. stood the first day's
run very well, and, as I afterward learned, paid out about six
hundred thousand dollars in gold coin.  On the 20th of February
Henry Height came to our bank, to see what help we were willing to
give him; but I was out, and Nisbet could not answer positively for
the firm.  Our condition was then very strong.  The deposit account
was about six hundred thousand dollars, and we had in our vault
about five hundred thousand dollars in coin and bullion, besides an
equal amount of good bills receivable.  Still I did not like to
weaken ourselves to help others; but in a most friendly spirit,
that night after bank-hours, I went down to Page, Bacon & Co., and
entered their office from the rear.  I found in the cashier's room
Folsom, Parrott, Dewey and Payne, Captain Ritchie, Donohue, and
others, citizens and friends of the house, who had been called in
for consultation.  Passing into the main office, where all the
book-keepers, tellers, etc., with gas-lights, were busy writing up
the day's work, I found Mr. Page, Henry Height, and Judge Chambers.
I spoke to Height, saying that I was sorry I had been out when he
called at our bank, and had now come to see him in the most
friendly spirit.  Height had evidently been drinking, and said
abruptly that "all the banks would break," that "no bank could
instantly pay all its obligations," etc.  I answered he could speak
for himself, but not for me; that I had come to offer to buy with
cash a fair proportion of his bullion, notes, and bills; but, if
they were going to fail, I would not be drawn in.  Height's manner
was extremely offensive, but Mr. Page tried to smooth it over,
saying they had had a bad day's run, and could not answer for the
result till their books were written up.

I passed back again into the room where the before-named gentlemen
were discussing some paper which lay before them, and was going to
pass out, when Captain Folsom, who was an officer of the army, a
class-mate and intimate friend of mine, handed me the paper the
contents of which they were discussing.  It was very short, and in
Henry Haight's handwriting, pretty much in these terms: "We, the
undersigned property-holders of San Francisco, having personally
examined the books, papers, etc., of Page, Bacon & Co., do hereby
certify that the house is solvent and able to pay all its debts,"
etc.  Height had drawn up and asked them to sign this paper, with
the intention to publish it in the next morning's papers, for
effect.  While I was talking with Captain Folsom, Height came into
the room to listen.  I admitted that the effect of such a
publication would surely be good, and would probably stave off
immediate demand till their assets could be in part converted or
realized; but I naturally inquired of Folsom, "Have you personally
examined the accounts, as herein recited, and the assets, enough to
warrant your signature to this paper?" for, "thereby you in effect
become indorsers."   Folsom said they had not, when Height turned
on me rudely and said, "Do you think the affairs of such a house as
Page, Bacon & Co. can be critically examined in an hour?"  I
answered: "These gentlemen can do what they please, but they have
twelve hours before the bank will open on the morrow, and if the
ledger is written up" (as I believed it was or could be by
midnight), "they can (by counting the coin, bullion on hand, and
notes or stocks of immediate realization) approximate near enough
for them to indorse for the remainder."  But Height pooh-poohed me,
and I left.  Folsom followed me out, told me he could not afford to
imperil all he had, and asked my advice.  I explained to him that
my partner Nisbet had been educated and trained in that very house
of Page, Bacon & Co.; that we kept our books exactly as they did;
that every day the ledger was written up, so that from it one could
see exactly how much actual money was due the depositors and
certificates; and then by counting the money in the vault,
estimating the bullion on hand, which, though not actual money,
could easily be converted into coin, and supplementing these
amounts by "bills receivable," they ought to arrive at an
approximate-result.  After Folsom had left me, John Parrott also
stopped and talked with me to the same effect.  Next morning I
looked out for the notice, but no such notice appeared in the
morning papers, and I afterward learned that, on Parrott and Folsom
demanding an actual count of the money in the vault, Haight angrily
refused unless they would accept his word for it, when one after
the other declined to sign his paper.

The run on Page, Bacon & Co. therefore continued throughout the
21st, and I expected all day to get an invitation to close our bank
for the next day, February 22, which we could have made a holiday
by concerted action; but each banker waited for Page, Bacon & Co.
to ask for it, and, no such circular coming, in the then state of
feeling no other banker was willing to take the initiative.  On the
morning of February 22, 1855, everybody was startled by receiving a
small slip of paper, delivered at all the houses, on which was
printed a short notice that, for "want of coin," Page, Bacon & Co.
found it necessary to close their bank for a short time.  Of
course, we all knew the consequences, and that every other bank in
San Francisco would be tried.  During the 22d we all kept open, and
watched our depositors closely; but the day was generally observed
by the people as a holiday, and the firemen paraded the streets of
San Francisco in unusual strength.  But, on writing up our books
that night, we found that our deposit account had diminished about
sixty-five thousand dollars.  Still, there was no run on us, or any
other of the banks, that day; yet, observing little knots of men on
the street, discussing the state of the banks generally, and
overhearing Haight's expression quoted, that, in case of the
failure of Page, Bacon & Co., "all the other banks would break," I
deemed it prudent to make ready.  For some days we had refused all
loans and renewals, and we tried, without, success, some of our
call-loans; but, like Hotspur's spirits, they would not come.

Our financial condition on that day (February 22, 1855) was: Due
depositors and demand certificates, five hundred and twenty
thousand dollars; to meet which, we had in the vault: coin, three
hundred and eighty thousand dollars; bullion, seventy-five thousand
dollars; and bills receivable, about six hundred thousand dollars.
Of these, at least one hundred thousand dollars were on demand,
with stock collaterals.  Therefore, for the extent of our business,
we were stronger than the Bank of England, or any bank in New York
City.

Before daylight next morning, our door-bell was rung, and I was
called down-stairs by E. Casserly, Esq. (an eminent lawyer of the
day, since United States Senator), who informed me he had just come
up from the office of Adams & Co., to tell me that their affairs
were in such condition that they would not open that morning at
all; and that this, added to the suspension of Page, Bacon & Co.,
announced the day before, would surely cause a general run on all
the banks.  I informed him that I expected as much, and was
prepared for it.

In going down to the bank that morning, I found Montgomery Street
full; but, punctually to the minute, the bank opened, and in rushed
the crowd.  As usual, the most noisy and clamorous were men and
women who held small certificates; still, others with larger
accounts were in the crowd, pushing forward for their balances.
All were promptly met and paid.  Several gentlemen of my personal
acquaintance merely asked my word of honor that their money was
safe, and went away; others, who had large balances, and no
immediate use for coin, gladly accepted gold-bars, whereby we paid
out the seventy-five thousand dollars of bullion, relieving the
coin to that amount.

Meantime, rumors from the street came pouring in that Wright & Co.
had failed; then Wells, Fargo & Co.; then Palmer, Cook & Co., and
indeed all, or nearly all, the banks of the city; and I was told
that parties on the street were betting high, first, that we would
close our doors at eleven o'clock; then twelve, and so on; but we
did not, till the usual hour that night.  We had paid every demand,
and still had a respectable amount left.

This run on the bank (the only one I ever experienced) presented
all the features, serious and comical, usual to such occasions.  At
our counter happened that identical case, narrated of others, of
the Frenchman, who was nearly squeezed to death in getting to the
counter, and, when he received his money, did not know what to do
with it.  "If you got the money, I no want him; but if you no got
him, I want it like the devil!"

Toward the close of the day, some of our customers deposited,
rather ostentatiously, small amounts, not aggregating more than
eight or ten thousand dollars.  Book-keepers and tellers were kept
at work to write up the books; and these showed:

Due depositors and certificates, about one hundred and twenty
thousand dollars, for which remained of coin about fifty thousand
dollars.  I resolved not to sleep until I had collected from those
owing the bank a part of their debts; for I was angry with them
that they had stood back and allowed the panic to fall on the banks
alone.  Among these were Captain Folsom, who owed us twenty-five
thousand dollars, secured by a mortgage on the American Theatre and
Tehama Hotel; James Smiley, contractor for building the
Custom-House, who owed us two notes of twenty thousand and sixteen
thousand dollars, for which we held, as collateral, two acceptances
of the collector of the port, Major R. P. Hammond, for twenty
thousand dollars each; besides other private parties that I need
not name.  The acceptances given to Smiley were for work done on
the Custom-House, but could not be paid until the work was actually
laid in the walls, and certified by Major Tower, United States
Engineers; but Smiley had an immense amount of granite, brick,
iron, etc., on the ground, in advance of construction, and these
acceptances were given him expressly that he might raise money
thereon for the payment of such materials.

Therefore, as soon as I got my dinner, I took my saddle-horse, and
rode to Captain Folsom's house, where I found him in great pain and
distress, mental and physical.  He was sitting in a chair, and
bathing his head with a sponge.  I explained to him the object of
my visit, and he said he had expected it, and had already sent his
agent, Van Winkle, down-town, with instructions to raise what money
he could at any cost; but he did not succeed in raising a cent.  So
great was the shock to public confidence, that men slept on their
money, and would not loan it for ten per cent.  a week, on any
security whatever--even on mint certificates, which were as good as
gold, and only required about ten days to be paid in coin by the
United States Mint.  I then rode up to Hammond's house, on Rincon
Hill, and found him there.  I explained to him exactly Smiley's
affairs, and only asked him to pay one of his acceptances.  He
inquired, "Why not both?"  I answered that was so much the better;
it would put me under still greater obligations.  He then agreed to
meet me at our bank at 10 P.M.  I sent word to others that I
demanded them to pay what they could on their paper, and then
returned to the bank, to meet Hammond.  In due time, he came down
with Palmer (of Palmer, Cook & Co.), and there he met Smiley, who
was, of course, very anxious to retire his notes.  We there
discussed the matter fully, when Hammond said, "Sherman, give me up
my two acceptances, and I will substitute therefor my check of
forty thousand dollars," with "the distinct understanding that, if
the money is not needed by you, it shall be returned to me, and the
transaction then to remain statu quo."  To this there was a general
assent.  Nisbet handed him his two acceptances, and he handed me
his check, signed as collector of the port, on Major J. R. Snyder,
United States Treasurer, for forty thousand dollars.  I afterward
rode out, that night, to Major Snyder's house on North Beach, saw
him, and he agreed to meet me at 8 a.m.  next day, at the United
States Mint, and to pay the check, so that I could have the money
before the bank opened.  The next morning, as agreed on, we met,
and he paid me the check in two sealed bags of gold-coin, each
marked twenty thousand dollars, which I had carried to the bank,
but never opened them, or even broke the seals.

That morning our bank opened as usual, but there was no appearance
of a continuation of the "run;" on the contrary, money began to
come back on deposit, so that by night we had a considerable
increase, and this went on from day to day, till nearly the old
condition of things returned.  After about three days, finding I
had no use for the money obtained on Hammond's check, I took the
identical two bags back to the cashier of the Custom-House, and
recovered the two acceptances which had been surrendered as
described; and Smiley's two notes were afterward paid in their due
course, out of the cash received on those identical acceptances.
But, years afterward, on settling with Hammond for the Custom-House
contract when completed, there was a difference, and Smiley sued
Lucas, Turner & Co. for money had and received for his benefit,
being the identical forty thousand dollars herein explained, but he
lost his case.  Hammond, too, was afterward removed from office,
and indicted in part for this transaction.  He was tried before the
United States Circuit Court, Judge McAlister presiding, for a
violation of the sub-Treasury Act, but was acquitted.  Our bank,
having thus passed so well through the crisis, took at once a first
rank; but these bank failures had caused so many mercantile losses,
and had led to such an utter downfall in the value of real estate,
that everybody lost more or less money by bad debts, by
depreciation of stocks and collaterals, that became unsalable, if
not worthless.

About this time (viz., February, 1855) I had exchanged my house on
Green, street, with Mr. Sloat, for the half of a fifty-vara lot on
Harrison Street, between Fremont and First, on which there was a
small cottage, and I had contracted for the building of a new
frame-house thereon, at six thousand dollars.  This house was
finished on the 9th of April, and my family moved into it at once.

For some time Mrs. Sherman had been anxious to go home to
Lancaster, Ohio, where we had left our daughter Minnie, with her
grandparents, and we arranged that S. M. Bowman, Esq., and wife,
should move into our new house and board us, viz., Lizzie, Willie
with the nurse Biddy, and myself, for a fair consideration.  It so
happened that two of my personal friends, Messrs.  Winters and
Cunningham of Marysville, and a young fellow named Eagan, now a
captain in the Commissary Department, were going East in the
steamer of the middle of April, and that Mr..  William H.
Aspinwall, of New York, and Mr. Chauncey, of Philadelphia, were
also going back; and they all offered to look to the personal
comfort of Mrs. Sherman on the voyage.  They took passage in the
steamer Golden Age (Commodore Watkins), which sailed on April 17,
1855.  Their passage down the coast was very pleasant till within a
day's distance of Panama, when one bright moonlit night, April
29th, the ship, running at full speed, between the Islands Quibo
and Quicara, struck on a sunken reef, tore out a streak in her
bottom, and at once began to fill with water.  Fortunately she did
not sink fast, but swung off into deep water, and Commodore Watkins
happening to be on deck at the moment, walking with Mr. Aspinwall,
learning that the water was rushing in with great rapidity, gave
orders for a full head of steam, and turned the vessel's bow
straight for the Island Quicara.  The water rose rapidly in the
hold, the passengers were all assembled, fearful of going down, the
fires were out, and the last revolution of the wheels made, when
her bow touched gently on the beach, and the vessel's stern sank in
deep water.  Lines were got out, and the ship held in an upright
position, so that the passengers were safe, and but little
incommoded.  I have often heard Mrs. Sherman tell of the boy Eagan,
then about fourteen years old, coming to her state-room, and
telling to her not to be afraid, as he was a good swimmer; but on
coming out into the cabin, partially dressed, she felt more
confidence in the cool manner, bearing, and greater strength of Mr.
Winters.  There must have been nearly a thousand souls on board at
the time, few of whom could have been saved had the steamer gone
down in mid-channel, which surely would have resulted, had not
Commodore Watkins been on deck, or had he been less prompt in his
determination to beach his ship.  A sailboat was dispatched toward
Panama, which luckily met the steamer John T. Stephens, just coming
out of the bay, loaded with about a thousand passengers bound for
San Francisco, and she at once proceeded to the relief of the
Golden Age.  Her passengers were transferred in small boats to the
Stephens, which vessel, with her two thousand people crowded
together with hardly standing-room, returned to Panama, whence the
passengers for the East proceeded to their destination without
further delay.  Luckily for Mrs. Sherman, Purser Goddard, an old
Ohio friend of ours, was on the Stephens, and most kindly gave up
his own room to her, and such lady friends as she included in her
party.  The Golden Age was afterward partially repaired at Quicara,
pumped out, and steamed to Panama, when, after further repairs, she
resumed her place in the line.  I think she is still in existence,
but Commodore Watkins afterward lost his life in China, by falling
down a hatchway.

Mrs. Sherman returned in the latter part of November of the same
year, when Mr. and Mrs. Bowman, who meantime had bought a lot next
to us and erected a house thereon, removed to it, and we thus
continued close neighbors and friends until we left the country for
good in 1857.

During the summer of 1856, in San Francisco, occurred one of those
unhappy events, too common to new countries, in which I became
involved in spite of myself.

William Neely Johnson was Governor of California, and resided at
Sacramento City; General John E. Wool commanded the Department of
California, having succeeded General Hitchcock, and had his
headquarters at Benicia; and a Mr. Van Ness was mayor of the city.
Politics had become a regular and profitable business, and
politicians were more than suspected of being corrupt.  It was
reported and currently believed that the sheriff (Scannell) had
been required to pay the Democratic Central Committee a hundred
thousand dollars for his nomination, which was equivalent to an
election, for an office of the nominal salary of twelve thousand
dollars a year for four years.  In the election all sorts of
dishonesty were charged and believed, especially of "ballot-box
stuffing," and too generally the better classes avoided the
elections and dodged jury-duty, so that the affairs of the city
government necessarily passed into the hands of a low set of
professional politicians.  Among them was a man named James Casey,
who edited a small paper, the printing office of which was in a
room on the third floor of our banking office.  I hardly knew him
by sight, and rarely if ever saw his paper; but one day Mr. Sather,
of the excellent banking firm of Drexel, Sather & Church, came to
me, and called my attention to an article in Casey's paper so full
of falsehood and malice, that we construed it as an effort to
black-mail the banks generally.  At that time we were all laboring
to restore confidence, which had been so rudely shaken by the
panic, and I went up-stairs, found Casey, and pointed out to him
the objectionable nature of his article, told him plainly that I
could not tolerate his attempt to print and circulate slanders in
our building, and, if he repeated it, I would cause him and his
press to be thrown out of the windows.  He took the hint and moved
to more friendly quarters.  I mention this fact, to show my
estimate of the man, who became a figure in the drama I am about to
describe.  James King of Wm., as before explained, was in 1853 a
banker on his own account, but some time in 1854 he had closed out
his business, and engaged with Adams & Co. as cashier.  When this
firm failed, he, in common with all the employees, was thrown out
of employment, and had to look around for something else.  He
settled down to the publication of an evening paper, called the
Bulletin, and, being a man of fine manners and address, he at once
constituted himself the champion of society against the public and
private characters whom he saw fit to arraign.

As might have been expected, this soon brought him into the usual
newspaper war with other editors, and especially with Casey, and
epithets a la "Eatanswill" were soon bandying back and forth
between them.  One evening of May, 1856, King published, in the
Bulletin, copies of papers procured from New York, to show that
Casey had once been sentenced to the State penitentiary at Sing
Sing.  Casey took mortal offense, and called at the Bulletin
office, on the corner of Montgomery and Merchant Streets, where he
found King, and violent words passed between them, resulting in
Casey giving King notice that he would shoot him on sight.  King
remained in his office till about 5 or 6 p.m., when he started
toward his home on Stockton Street, and, as he neared the corner of
Washington, Casey approached him from the opposite direction,
called to him, and began firing.  King had on a short cloak, and in
his breast-pocket a small pistol, which he did not use.  One of
Casey's shots struck him high up in the breast, from which he
reeled, was caught by some passing friend, and carried into the
express-office on the corner, where he was laid on the counter; and
a surgeon sent for.  Casey escaped up Washington Street, went to
the City Hall, and delivered himself to the sheriff (Scannell), who
conveyed him to jail and locked him in a cell.  Meantime, the news
spread like wildfire, and all the city was in commotion, for grog
was very popular.  Nisbet, who boarded with us on Harrison Street,
had been delayed at the bank later than usual, so that he happened
to be near at the time, and, when he came out to dinner, he brought
me the news of this affair, and said that there was every
appearance of a riot down-town that night.  This occurred toward
the evening of May 14, 1856.

It so happened that, on the urgent solicitation of Van Winkle and
of Governor Johnson; I had only a few days before agreed to accept
the commission of major-general of the Second Division of Militia,
embracing San Francisco.  I had received the commission, but
had not as yet formally accepted it, or even put myself in
communication with the volunteer companies of the city.  Of these,
at that moment of time, there was a company of artillery with four
guns, commanded by a Captain Johns, formerly of the army, and two
or three uniformed companies of infantry.  After dinner I went down
town to see what was going on; found that King had been removed to
a room in the Metropolitan Block; that his life was in great peril;
that Casey was safe in jail, and the sheriff had called to his
assistance a posse of the city police, some citizens, and one of
the militia companies.  The people were gathered in groups on the
streets, and the words "Vigilance Committee" were freely spoken,
but I saw no signs of immediate violence.  The next morning, I
again went to the jail, and found all things quiet, but the militia
had withdrawn.  I then went to the City Hall, saw the mayor, Van
Ness, and some of the city officials, agreed to do what I could to
maintain order with such militia as were on hand, and then formally
accepted the commission, and took the "oath."

In 1851 (when I was not in California) there had been a Vigilance
Committee, and it was understood that its organization still
existed.  All the newspapers took ground in favor of the Vigilance
Committee, except the Herald (John Nugent, editor), and nearly all
the best people favored that means of redress.  I could see they
were organizing, hiring rendezvous, collecting arms, etc., without
concealment.  It was soon manifest that the companies of volunteers
would go with the "committee," and that the public authorities
could not rely on them for aid or defense.  Still, there were a
good many citizens who contended that, if the civil authorities
were properly sustained by the people at large, they could and
would execute the law.  But the papers inflamed the public mind,
and the controversy spread to the country.  About the third day
after the shooting of King, Governor Johnson telegraphed me that he
would be down in the evening boat, and asked me to meet him on
arrival for consultation.  I got C. H. Garrison to go with me, and
we met the Governor and his brother on the wharf, and walked up to
the International Hotel on Jackson Street, above Montgomery.  We
discussed the state of affairs fully; and Johnson, on learning that
his particular friend, William T. Coleman, was the president of the
Vigilance Committee, proposed to go and see him.  En route we
stopped at King's room, ascertained that he was slowly sinking, and
could not live long; and then near midnight we walked to the
Turnverein Hall, where the committee was known to be sitting in
consultation.  This hall was on Bush Street, at about the
intersection of Stockton.  It was all lighted up within, but the
door was locked.  The Governor knocked at the door, and on inquiry
from inside  "Who's there?"--gave his name.  After some delay we
were admitted into a sort of vestibule, beyond which was a large
hall, and we could hear the suppressed voices of a multitude.  We
were shown into a bar-room to the right, when the Governor asked to
see Coleman.  The man left us, went into the main hall, and soon
returned with Coleman, who was pale and agitated.  After shaking
hands all round, the Governor said, "Coleman, what the devil is the
matter here?" Coleman said, "Governor, it is time this shooting on
our streets should stop."  The Governor replied, "I agree with you
perfectly, and have come down, from Sacramento to assist."  Coleman
rejoined that "the people were tired of it, and had no faith in the
officers of the law."  A general conversation then followed, in
which it was admitted that King would die, and that Casey must be
executed; but the manner of execution was the thing to be settled,
Coleman contending that the people would do it without trusting the
courts or the sheriff.  It so happened that at that time Judge
Norton was on the bench of the court having jurisdiction, and he
was universally recognized as an able and upright man, whom no one
could or did mistrust; and it also happened that a grand-jury was
then in session.  Johnson argued that the time had passed in
California for mobs and vigilance committees, and said if Coleman
and associates would use their influence to support the law, he
(the Governor) would undertake that, as soon as King died, the
grand-jury should indict, that Judge Norton would try the murderer,
and the whole proceeding should be as speedy as decency would
allow.  Then Coleman said "the people had no confidence in
Scannell, the sheriff," who was, he said, in collusion with the
rowdy element of San Francisco.  Johnson then offered to be
personally responsible that Casey should be safely guarded, and
should be forthcoming for trial and execution at the proper time.
I remember very well Johnson's assertion that he had no right to
make these stipulations, and maybe no power to fulfill them; but he
did it to save the city and state from the disgrace of a mob.
Coleman disclaimed that the vigilance organization was a "mob,"
admitted that the proposition of the Governor was fair, and all he
or any one should ask; and added, if we would wait awhile, he would
submit it to the council, and bring back an answer.

We waited nearly an hour, and could hear the hum of voices
in the hall, but no words, when Coleman came back, accompanied by a
committee, of which I think the two brothers Arrington, Thomas
Smiley the auctioneer, Seymour, Truett, and others, were members.
The whole conversation was gone over again, and the Governor's
proposition was positively agreed to, with this further condition,
that the Vigilance Committee should send into the jail a small
force of their own men, to make certain that Casey should not be
carried off or allowed to escape.

The Governor, his brother William, Garrison, and I, then went up to
the jail, where we found the sheriff and his posse comitatus of
police and citizens.  These were styled the "Law-and-Order party,"
and some of them took offense that the Governor should have held
communication with the "damned rebels," and several of them left
the jail; but the sheriff seemed to agree with the Governor that
what he had done was right and best; and, while we were there, some
eight or ten armed men arrived from the Vigilance Committee, and
were received by the sheriff (Scannell) as a part of his regular
posse.

The Governor then, near daylight, went to his hotel, and I to my
house for a short sleep.  Next day I was at the bank, as usual,
when, about noon the Governor called, and asked me to walk with him
down-street He said he had just received a message from the
Vigilance Committee to the effect that they were not bound by
Coleman's promise not to do any thing till the regular trial by
jury should be had, etc.  He was with reason furious, and asked me
to go with him to Truett's store, over which the Executive
Committee was said to be in session.  We were admitted to a
front-room up-stairs, and heard voices in the back-room.  The
Governor inquired for Coleman, but he was not forthcoming.  Another
of the committee, Seymour, met us, denied in toto the promise of
the night before, and the Governor openly accused him of treachery
and falsehood.


The quarrel became public, and the newspapers took it up, both
parties turning on the Governor; one, the Vigilantes, denying the
promise made by Coleman, their president; and the other, the
"Law-and-Order party," refusing any farther assistance, because
Johnson had stooped to make terms with rebels.  At all events, he
was powerless, and had to let matters drift to a conclusion.

King died about Friday, May 20th, and the funeral was appointed for
the next Sunday.  Early on that day the Governor sent for me at my
house.  I found him on the roof of the International, from which we
looked down on the whole city, and more especially the face of
Telegraph Hill, which was already covered with a crowd of people,
while others were moving toward the jail on Broadway.  Parties of
armed men, in good order, were marching by platoons in the same
direction; and formed in line along Broadway, facing the jail-door.
Soon a small party was seen to advance to this door, and knock; a
parley ensued, the doors were opened, and Casey was led out.  In a
few minutes another prisoner was brought out, who, proved to be
Cora, a man who had once been tried for killing Richardson, the
United States Marshal, when the jury disagreed, and he was awaiting
a new trial.  These prisoners were placed in carriages, and
escorted by the armed force down to the rooms of the Vigilance
Committee, through the principal streets of the city.  The day was
exceedingly beautiful, and the whole proceeding was orderly in the
extreme.  I was under the impression that Casey and Cora were
hanged that same Sunday, but was probably in error; but in a very
few days they were hanged by the neck--dead--suspended from beams
projecting from the windows of the committee's rooms, without other
trial than could be given in secret, and by night.

We all thought the matter had ended there, and accordingly the
Governor returned to Sacramento in disgust, and I went about my
business.  But it soon became manifest that the Vigilance Committee
had no intention to surrender the power thus usurped.  They took a
building on Clay Street, near Front, fortified it, employed guards
and armed sentinels, sat in midnight council, issued writs of
arrest and banishment, and utterly ignored all authority but their
own.  A good many men were banished and forced to leave the
country, but they were of that class we could well spare.  Yankee
Sullivan, a prisoner in their custody, committed suicide, and a
feeling of general insecurity pervaded the city.  Business was
deranged; and the Bulletin, then under control of Tom King, a
brother of James, poured out its abuse on some of our best men, as
well as the worst.  Governor Johnson, being again appealed to,
concluded to go to work regularly, and telegraphed me about the 1st
of June to meet him at General Wool's headquarters at Benicia that
night.  I went up, and we met at the hotel where General Wool was
boarding.  Johnson had with him his Secretary of State.  We
discussed the state of the country generally, and I had agreed that
if Wool would give us arms and ammunition out of the United States
Arsenal at Benicia, and if Commodore Farragat, of the navy,
commanding the navy-yard on Mare Island, would give us a ship, I
would call out volunteers, and, when a sufficient number had
responded, I would have the arms come down from Benicia in the
ship, arm my men, take possession of a thirty-two-pound-gun battery
at the Marine Hospital on Rincon Point, thence command a dispersion
of the unlawfully-armed force of the Vigilance Committee, and
arrest some of the leaders.

We played cards that night, carrying on a conversation, in which
Wool insisted on a proclamation commanding the Vigilance Committee
to disperse, etc., and he told us how he had on some occasion, as
far back as 1814, suppressed a mutiny on the Northern frontier.  I
did not understand him to make any distinct promise of assistance
that night, but he invited us to accompany him on an inspection of
the arsenal the next day, which we did.  On handling some rifled
muskets in the arsenal storehouse he asked me how they would answer
our purpose.  I said they were the very things, and that we did not
want cartridge boxes or belts, but that I would have the cartridges
carried in the breeches-pockets, and the caps in the vestpockets.
I knew that there were stored in that arsenal four thousand
muskets, for I recognized the boxes which we had carried out in the
Lexington around Cape Horn in 1846.  Afterward we all met at the
quarters of Captain D. R. Jones of the army, and I saw the
Secretary of State, D. F. Douglass, Esq., walk out with General
Wool in earnest conversation, and this Secretary of State afterward
asserted that Wool there and then promised us the arms and
ammunition, provided the Governor would make his proclamation for
the committee to disperse, and that I should afterward call out the
militia, etc.  On the way back to the hotel at Benicia, General
Wool, Captain Callendar of the arsenal, and I, were walking side by
side, and I was telling him (General Wool) that I would also need
some ammunition for the thirty-two-pound guns then in position at
Rineon Point, when Wool turned to Callendar and inquired, "Did I
not order those guns to be brought away?"  Callendar said "Yes,
general.  I made a requisition on the quartermaster for
transportation, but his schooner has been so busy that the guns are
still there."  Then said Wool: "Let them remain; we may have use for
them."  I therefrom inferred, of course, that it was all agreed to
so far as he was concerned.

Soon after we had reached the hotel, we ordered a buggy, and
Governor Johnson and I drove to Vallejo, six miles, crossed over to
Mare Island, and walked up to the commandant's house, where we
found Commodore Farragut and his family.  We stated our business
fairly, but the commodore answered very frankly that he had no
authority, without orders from his department, to take any part in
civil broils; he doubted the wisdom of the attempt; said he had no
ship available except the John Adams, Captain Boutwell, and that
she needed repairs.  But he assented at last, to the proposition to
let the sloop John Adams drop down abreast of the city after
certain repairs, to lie off there for moral effect, which afterward
actually occurred.

We then returned to Benicia, and Wool's first question was, "What
luck?"  We answered, "Not much," and explained what Commodore
Farragut could and would do, and that, instead of having a naval
vessel, we would seize and use one of the Pacific Mail Company's
steamers, lying at their dock in Benicia, to carry down to San
Francisco the arms and munitions when the time came.

As the time was then near at hand for the arrival of the evening
boats, we all walked down to the wharf together, where I told
Johnson that he could not be too careful; that I had not heard
General Wool make a positive promise of assistance.

Upon this, Johnson called General Wool to one side, and we three
drew together.  Johnson said: "General Wool, General Sherman is
very particular, and wants to know exactly what you propose to do."
Wool answered: "I understand, Governor, that in the first place a
writ of Habeas corpus will be issued commanding the jailers of the
Vigilance Committee to produce the body of some one of the
prisoners held by them (which, of course, will be refused); that
you then issue your proclamation commanding them to disperse, and,
failing this, you will call out the militia, and command General
Sherman with it to suppress the Vigilance Committee as an unlawful
body;" to which the Governor responded, "Yes."  "Then," said Wool,
"on General Sherman's making his requisition, approved by you, I
will order the issue of the necessary arms and ammunition."  I
remember well that I said, emphatically: "That is all I want.
--Now, Governor, you may go ahead."  We soon parted; Johnson and
Douglas taking the boat to Sacramento, and I to San Francisco.

The Chief-Justice, Terry, came to San Francisco the next day,
issued a writ of habeas corpus for the body of one Maloney, which
writ was resisted, as we expected.  The Governor then issued his
proclamation, and I published my orders, dated June 4, 1855.  The
Quartermaster-General of the State, General Kibbe, also came to San
Francisco, took an office in the City Hall, engaged several rooms
for armories, and soon the men began to enroll into companies.  In
my general orders calling out the militia, I used the expression,
"When a sufficient number of men are enrolled, arms and ammunition
will be supplied."  Some of the best men of the "Vigilantes" came
to me and remonstrated, saying that collision would surely result;
that it would be terrible, etc.  All I could say in reply was, that
it was for them to get out of the way.  "Remove your fort; cease
your midnight councils; and prevent your armed bodies from
patrolling the streets."  They inquired where I was to get arms,
and I answered that I had them certain.  But personally I went
right along with my business at the bank, conscious that at any
moment we might have trouble.  Another committee of citizens, a
conciliatory body, was formed to prevent collision if possible, and
the newspapers boiled over with vehement vituperation.  This second
committee was composed of such men as Crockett, Ritchie, Thornton,
Bailey Peyton, Foote, Donohue, Kelly, and others, a class of the
most intelligent and wealthy men of the city, who earnestly and
honestly desired to prevent bloodshed.  They also came to me, and I
told them that our men were enrolling very fast, and that, when I
deemed the right moment had come, the Vigilance Committee must
disperse, else bloodshed and destruction of property would
inevitably follow.  They also had discovered that the better men of
the Vigilance Committee itself were getting tired of the business,
and thought that in the execution of Casey and Cora, and the
banishment of a dozen or more rowdies, they had done enough, and
were then willing to stop.  It was suggested that, if our
Law-and-Order party would not arm, by a certain day near at hand
the committee would disperse, and some of their leaders would
submit to an indictment and trial by a jury of citizens, which they
knew would acquit them of crime.  One day in the bank a man called
me to the counter and said, "If you expect to get arms of General
Wool, you will be mistaken, for I was at Benicia yesterday, and
heard him say he would not give them."  This person was known to me
to be a man of truth, and I immediately wrote to General Wool a
letter telling him what I had heard, and how any hesitation on his
part would compromise me as a man of truth and honor; adding that I
did not believe we should ever need the arms, but only the promise
of them, for "the committee was letting down, and would soon
disperse and submit to the law," etc.  I further asked him to
answer me categorically that very night, by the Stockton boat,
which would pass Benicia on its way down about midnight, and I
would sit up and wait for his answer.  I did wait for his letter,
but it did not come, and the next day I got a telegraphic dispatch
from Governor Johnson, who, at Sacramento, had also heard of
General Wool's "back-down," asking me to meet him again at Benicia
that night.

I went up in the evening boat, and found General Wool's
aide-de-camp, Captain Arnold, of the army, on the wharf, with a
letter in his hand, which he said was for me.  I asked for it, but
he said he knew its importance, and preferred we should go to
General Wool's room together, and the general could hand it to me in
person.  We did go right up to General Wool's, who took the sealed
parcel and laid it aside, saying that it was literally a copy of one
he had sent to Governor Johnson, who would doubtless give me a copy;
but I insisted that I had made a written communication, and was
entitled to a written answer.

At that moment several gentlemen of the "Conciliation party," who
had come up in the same steamer with me, asked for admission and
came in.  I recall the names of Crockett, Foote, Bailey Peyton,
Judge Thornton, Donohue, etc., and the conversation became general,
Wool trying to explain away the effect of our misunderstanding,
taking good pains not to deny his promise made to me personally on
the wharf.  I renewed my application for the letter addressed to
me, then lying on his table.  On my statement of the case, Bailey
Peyton said, "General Wool, I think General Sherman has a right to
a written answer from you, for he is surely compromised."  Upon
this Wool handed me the letter.  I opened and read it, and it
denied any promise of arms, but otherwise was extremely evasive and
non-committal.  I had heard of the arrival at the wharf of the
Governor and party, and was expecting them at Wool's room, but,
instead of stopping at the hotel where we were, they passed to
another hotel on the block above.  I went up and found there, in a
room on the second floor over the bar-room, Governor Johnson,
Chief-Justice Terry, Jones, of Palmer, Cooke & Co., E. D. Baker,
Volney E. Howard, and one or two others.  All were talking
furiously against Wool, denouncing him as a d---d liar, and not
sparing the severest terms.  I showed the Governor General Wool's
letter to me, which he said was in effect the same as the one
addressed to and received by him at Sacramento.  He was so offended
that he would not even call on General Wool, and said he would
never again recognize him as an officer or gentleman.  We discussed
matters generally, and Judge Terry said that the Vigilance
Committee were a set of d---d pork-merchants; that they were
getting scared, and that General Wool was in collusion with them to
bring the State into contempt, etc.  I explained that there were no
arms in the State except what General Wool had, or what were in the
hands of the Vigilance Committee of San Francisco, and that the
part of wisdom for us was to be patient and cautious.  About that
time Crockett and his associates sent up their cards, but Terry and
the more violent of the Governor's followers denounced them as no
better than "Vigilantes," and wanted the Governor to refuse even to
receive them.  I explained that they were not "Vigilantes," that
Judge Thornton was a "Law-and-Order" man, was one of the first to
respond to the call of the sheriff, and that he went actually to
the jail with his one arm the night we expected the first attempt
at rescue, etc.  Johnson then sent word for them to reduce their
business to writing.  They simply sent in a written request for an
audience, and they were then promptly admitted.  After some general
conversation, the Governor said he was prepared to hear them, when
Mr. Crockett rose and made a prepared speech embracing a clear and
fair statement of the condition of things in San Francisco,
concluding with the assertion of the willingness of the committee
to disband and submit to trial after a certain date not very
remote.  All the time Crockett was speaking, Terry sat with his hat
on, drawn over his eyes, and with his feet on a table.  As soon as
Crockett was through, they were dismissed, and Johnson began to
prepare a written answer.  This was scratched, altered, and
amended, to suit the notions of his counselors, and at last was
copied and sent.  This answer amounted to little or nothing.
Seeing that we were powerless for good, and that violent counsels
would prevail under the influence of Terry and others, I sat down
at the table, and wrote my resignation, which Johnson accepted in a
complimentary note on the spot, and at the same time he appointed
to my place General Volney E. Howard, then present, a lawyer who
had once been a member of Congress from Texas, and who was expected
to drive the d---d pork-merchants into the bay at short notice.  I
went soon after to General Wool's room, where I found  Crockett and
the rest of his party; told them that I was out of the fight,
having resigned my commission; that I had neglected business that
had been intrusted to me by my St. Louis partners; and that I would
thenceforward mind my own business, and leave public affairs
severely alone.  We all returned to San Francisco that night by the
Stockton boat, and I never after-ward had any thing to do with
politics in California, perfectly satisfied with that short
experience.  Johnson and Wool fought  out their quarrel of veracity
in the newspapers and on paper.  But, in my opinion, there is not a
shadow of doubt that General Wool did deliberately deceive us; that
he had authority to issue arms, and that, had he adhered to his
promise, we could have checked the committee before it became a
fixed institution, and a part of the common law of California.
Major-General Volney  E. Howard came to San Francisco soon after;
continued the organization of militia which I had begun; succeeded
in getting a few arms from the country; but one day the Vigilance
Committee sallied from their armories, captured the arms of the
"Law-and-Order party," put some of their men into prison,  while
General Howard, with others, escaped to the country; after which
the Vigilance Committee had it all their own way.  Subsequently, in
July, 1856, they arrested Chief-Justice Terry, and tried him for
stabbing one of their constables, but he managed to escape at
night, and took refuge on the John Adams.  In August, they hanged
Hetherington and Brace in broad daylight, without any jury-trial;
and, soon after, they quietly disbanded.  As they controlled the
press, they wrote their own history, and the world generally gives
them the credit of having purged San Francisco of rowdies and
roughs; but their success  has given great stimulus to a dangerous
principle, that would at any time justify the mob in seizing all
the power of government;  and who is to say that the Vigilance
Committee may not be composed of the worst, instead of the best,
elements of a community? Indeed, in San Francisco, as soon as it
was demonstrated that the real power had passed from the City Hall
to the committee  room, the same set of bailiffs, constables, and
rowdies that had infested the City Hall were found in the
employment of the  "Vigilantes;" and, after three months
experience, the better class of people became tired of the midnight
sessions and left the business and power of the committee in the
hands of a court, of which a Sydney man was reported to be the head
or chief-justice.

During the winter of 1855-'56, and indeed throughout the year 1856,
all kinds of business became unsettled in California.  The mines
continued to yield about fifty millions of gold a year; but little
attention was paid to agriculture or to any business other than
that of "mining," and, as the placer-gold was becoming worked out,
the miners were restless and uneasy, and were shifting about from
place to place, impelled by rumors put afloat for speculative
purposes.  A great many extensive enterprises by joint-stock
companies had been begun, in the way of water-ditches, to bring
water from the head of the mountain-streams down to the richer
alluvial deposits, and nearly all of these companies became
embarrassed or bankrupt.  Foreign capital, also, which had been
attracted to California by reason of the high rates of interest,
was being withdrawn, or was tied up in property which could not be
sold; and, although our bank's having withstood the panic gave us
great credit, still the community itself was shaken, and loans of
money were risky in the extreme.  A great many merchants, of the
highest name, availed themselves of the extremely liberal bankrupt
law to get discharged of their old debts, without sacrificing much,
if any, of their stocks of goods on hand, except a lawyer's fee;
thus realizing Martin Burke's saying that "many a clever fellow had
been ruined by paying his debts."  The merchants and business-men
of San Francisco did not intend to be ruined by such a course.  I
raised the rate of exchange from three to three and a half, while
others kept on at the old rate; and I labored hard to collect old
debts, and strove, in making new loans, to be on the safe side.
The State and city both denied much of their public debt; in fact,
repudiated it; and real estate, which the year before had been
first-class security, became utterly unsalable.

The office labor and confinement, and the anxiety attending the
business, aggravated my asthma to such an extent that at times it
deprived me of sleep, and threatened to become chronic and serious;
and I was also conscious that the first and original cause which
had induced Mr. Lucas to establish the bank in California had
ceased.  I so reported to him, and that I really believed that he
could use his money more safely and to better advantage in St.
Louis.  This met his prompt approval, and he instructed me
gradually to draw out, preparatory to a removal to New York City.
Accordingly, early in April, 1857, I published an advertisement in
the San Francisco papers, notifying our customers that, on the 1st
day of May, we would discontinue business and remove East,
requiring all to withdraw their accounts, and declaring that,
if any remained on that day of May, their balances would be
transferred to the banking-house of Parrott & Co. Punctually to the
day, this was done, and the business of Lucas, Turner & Co., of San
Francisco, was discontinued, except the more difficult and
disagreeable part of collecting their own moneys and selling the
real estate, to which the firm had succeeded by purchase or
foreclosure.  One of the partners, B. R. Nisbet, assisted by our
attorney, S. M. Bowman, Esq., remained behind to close up the
business of the bank.




CHAPTER VI.

CALIFORNIA, NEW YORK, AND KANSAS.

1857-1859.

Having closed the bank at San Francisco on the 1st day of May,
1857, accompanied by my family I embarked in the steamer Sonora for
Panama, crossed the isthmus, and sailed to New York, whence we
proceeded to Lancaster, Ohio, where Mrs. Sherman and the family
stopped, and I went on to St. Louis.  I found there that some
changes had been made in the parent, house, that Mr. Lucas had
bought out his partner, Captain Symonds, and that the firm's name
had been changed to that of James H. Lucas & Co.

It had also been arranged that an office or branch was to be
established in New York City, of which I was to have charge, on
pretty much the same terms and conditions as in the previous San
Francisco firm.

Mr. Lucas, Major Turner, and I, agreed to meet in New York, soon
after the 4th of July.  We met accordingly at the Metropolitan
Hotel, selected an office, No. 12 Pall Street, purchased the
necessary furniture, and engaged a teller, bookkeeper, and porter.
The new firm was to bear the same title of Lucas, Turner & Co.,
with about the same partners in interest, but the nature of the
business was totally different.  We opened our office on the 21st
of July, 1857, and at once began to receive accounts from the West
and from California, but our chief business was as the resident
agents of the St. Louis firm of James H. Lucas & Co. Personally I
took rooms at No. 100 Prince Street, in which house were also
quartered Major J. G. Barnard, and Lieutenant J. B. McPherson,
United States Engineers, both of whom afterward attained great fame
in the civil war.

My business relations in New York were with the Metropolitan Bank
and Bank of America; and with the very wealthy and most respectable
firm of Schuchhardt & Gebhard, of Nassau Street.  Every thing went
along swimmingly till the 21st of August, when all Wall Street was
thrown into a spasm by the failure of the Ohio Life and Trust
Company, and the panic so resembled that in San Francisco, that,
having nothing seemingly at stake, I felt amused.  But it soon
became a serious matter even to me.  Western stocks and securities
tumbled to such a figure, that all Western banks that held such
securities, and had procured advances thereon, were compelled to
pay up or substitute increased collaterals.  Our own house was
not a borrower in New York at all, but many of our Western
correspondents were, and it taxed my tune to watch their interests.
In September, the panic extended so as to threaten the safety of
even some of the New York banks not connected with the West; and
the alarm became general, and at last universal.

In the very midst of this panic came the news that the steamer
Central America, formerly the George Law, with six hundred
passengers and about sixteen hundred thousand dollars of treasure,
coming from Aspinwall, had foundered at sea, off the coast of
Georgia, and that about sixty of the passengers had been
providentially picked up by a Swedish bark, and brought into
Savannah.  The absolute loss of this treasure went to swell the
confusion and panic of the day.

A few days after, I was standing in the vestibule of the
Metropolitan Hotel, and heard the captain of the Swedish bark tell
his singular story of the rescue of these passengers.  He was a
short, sailor-like-looking man, with a strong German or Swedish
accent.  He said that he was sailing from some port in Honduras for
Sweden, running down the Gulf Stream off Savannah.  The weather had
been heavy for some days, and, about nightfall, as he paced his
deck, he observed a man-of-war hawk circle about his vessel,
gradually lowering, until the bird was as it were aiming at him.
He jerked out a belaying-pin, struck at the bird, missed it, when
the hawk again rose high in the air, and a second time began to
descend, contract his circle, and make at him again.  The second
time he hit the bird, and struck it to the deck....  This strange
fact made him uneasy, and he thought it betokened danger; he went
to the binnacle, saw the course he was steering, and without any
particular reason he ordered the steersman to alter the course one
point to the east.

After this it became quite dark, and he continued to promenade the
deck, and had settled into a drowsy state, when as in a dream he
thought he heard voices all round his ship.  Waking up, he ran to
the side of the ship, saw something struggling in the water, and
heard clearly cries for help.  Instantly heaving his ship to, and
lowering all his boats, he managed to pick up sixty or more persons
who were floating about on skylights, doors, spare, and whatever
fragments remained of the Central America.  Had he not changed the
course of his vessel by reason of the mysterious conduct of that
man-of-war hawk, not a soul would probably have survived the night.
It was stated by the rescued passengers, among whom was Billy
Birch, that the Central America had sailed from Aspinwall with the
passengers and freight which left San Francisco on the 1st of
September, and encountered the gale in the Gulf Stream somewhere
off Savannah, in which she sprung a leak, filled rapidly, and went
down.  The passengers who were saved had clung to doors, skylights,
and such floating objects as they could reach, and were thus
rescued; all the rest, some five hundred in number, had gone down
with the ship.

The panic grew worse and worse, and about the end of September
there was a general suspension of the banks of New York, and a
money crisis extended all over the country.  In New York, Lucas,
Turner & Co. had nothing at risk.  We had large cash balances in
the Metropolitan Bank and in the Bank of America, all safe, and we
held, for the account of the St. Louis house, at least two hundred
thousand dollars, of St. Louis city and county bonds, and of
acceptances falling due right along, none extending beyond ninety
days.  I was advised from St. Louis that money matters were
extremely tight; but I did not dream of any danger in that quarter.
I knew well that Mr. Lucas was worth two or three million dollars
in the best real estate, and inferred from the large balances to
their credit with me that no mere panic could shake his credit;
but, early on the morning of October 7th, my cousin, James M. Hoyt,
came to me in bed, and read me a paragraph in the morning paper, to
the effect that James H. Lucas & Co., of St. Louis, had suspended.
I was, of course, surprised, but not sorry; for I had always
contended that a man of so much visible wealth as Mr. Lucas should
not be engaged in a business subject to such vicissitudes.  I
hurried down to the office, where I received the same information
officially, by telegraph, with instructions to make proper
disposition of the affairs of the bank, and to come out to St.
Louis, with such assets as would be available there.  I transferred
the funds belonging to all our correspondents, with lists of
outstanding checks, to one or other of our bankers, and with the
cash balance of the St. Louis house and their available assets
started for St. Louis.  I may say with confidence that no man lost
a cent by either of the banking firms of Lucas, Turner & Co., of
San Francisco or New York; but, as usual, those who owed us were
not always as just.  I reached St. Louis October 17th, and found
the partners engaged in liquidating the balances due depositors as
fast as collections could be forced; and, as the panic began to
subside, this process became quite rapid, and Mr. Lucas, by making
a loan in Philadelphia, was enabled to close out all accounts
without having made any serious sacrifices, Of course, no person
ever lost a cent by him: he has recently died, leaving an estate of
eight million dollars.  During his lifetime, I had opportunities to
know him well, and take much pleasure in bearing testimony to his
great worth and personal kindness.  On the failure of his bank, he
assumed personally all the liabilities, released his partners of
all responsibility, and offered to assist me to engage in business,
which he supposed was due to me because I had resigned my army
commission.  I remained in St. Louis till the 17th of December,
1857, assisting in collecting for the bank, and in controlling all
matters which came from the New York and San Francisco branches.
B. R. Nisbet was still in San Francisco, but had married a Miss
Thornton, and was coming home.  There still remained in California
a good deal of real estate, and notes, valued at about two hundred
thousand dollars in the aggregate; so that, at Mr. Lucas's request,
I agreed to go out again, to bring matters, if possible, nearer a
final settlement.  I accordingly left St. Louis, reached Lancaster,
where my family was, on the 10th, staid there till after Christmas,
and then went to New York, where I remained till January 5th, when
I embarked on the steamer Moles Taylor (Captain McGowan) for
Aspinwall; caught the Golden Gate (Captain Whiting) at Panama,
January 15, 1858; and reached San Francisco on the 28th of January.
I found that Nisbet and wife had gone to St. Louis, and that we had
passed each other at sea.  He had carried the ledger and books to
St. Louis, but left a schedule, notes, etc., in the hands of S. M.
Bowman, Esq., who passed them over to me.

On the 30th of January I published a notice of the dissolution of
the partnership, and called on all who were still indebted to the
firm of Lucas, Turner & Co. to pay up, or the notes would be sold
at auction.  I also advertised that all the real property, was for
sale.

Business had somewhat changed since 1857.  Parrott & Co.; Garrison,
Fritz & Ralston; Wells, Fargo & Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church, and
Tallant & Wilde, were the principal bankers.  Property continued
almost unsalable, and prices were less than a half of what they
had been in 1853-'54.  William Blending, Esq., had rented my house
on Harrison Street; so I occupied a room in the bank, No. 11, and
boarded at the Meiggs House, corner of Broadway and Montgomery,
which we owned.  Having reduced expenses to a minimum, I proceeded,
with all possible dispatch, to collect outstanding debts, in some
instances making sacrifices and compromises.  I made some few
sales, and generally aimed to put matters in such a shape that time
would bring the best result.  Some of our heaviest creditors were
John M. Rhodes & Co., of Sacramento and Shasta; Langton & Co., of
Downieville; and E. M. Stranger of Murphy's.  In trying to put
these debts in course of settlement, I made some arrangement in
Downieville with the law-firm of Spears & Thornton, to collect, by
suit, a certain note of Green & Purdy for twelve thousand dollars.
Early in April, I learned that Spears had collected three thousand
seven hundred dollars in money, had appropriated it to his own use,
and had pledged another good note taken in part payment of three
thousand and fifty-three dollars.  He pretended to be insane.  I
had to make two visits to Downieville on this business, and there,
made the acquaintance of Mr. Stewart, now a Senator from Nevada.
He was married to a daughter of Governor Foote; was living in a
small frame house on the bar just below the town; and his little
daughter was playing about the door in the sand.  Stewart was then
a lawyer in Downieville, in good practice; afterward, by some lucky
stroke, became part owner of a valuable silver-mine in Nevada, and
is now accounted a millionaire.  I managed to save something out of
Spears, and more out of his partner Thornton.  This affair of
Spears ruined him, because his insanity was manifestly feigned.

I remained in San Francisco till July 3d, when, having collected
and remitted every cent that I could raise, and got all the
property in the best shape possible, hearing from St. Louis
that business had revived, and that there was no need of
further sacrifice; I put all the papers, with a full letter of
instructions, and power of attorney, in the hands of William
Blending, Esq., and took passage on the good steamer Golden Gate,
Captain Whiting, for Panama and home.  I reached Lancaster on July
28, 1858, and found all the family well.  I was then perfectly
unhampered, but the serious and greater question remained, what was
I to do to support my family, consisting of a wife and four
children, all accustomed to more than the average comforts of life?

I remained at Lancaster all of August, 1858, during which time I
was discussing with Mr. Ewing and others what to do next.  Major
Turner and Mr. Lucas, in St. Louis, were willing to do any thing to
aid me, but I thought best to keep independent.  Mr. Ewing had
property at Chauncey, consisting of salt-wells and coal-mines, but
for that part of Ohio I had no fancy.  Two of his sons, Hugh and T.
E., Jr., had established themselves at Leavenworth, Kansas, where
they and their father had bought a good deal of land, some near the
town, and some back in the country.  Mr. Ewing offered to confide
to me the general management of his share of interest, and Hugh and
T. E., Jr., offered me an equal copartnership in their law-firm.

Accordingly, about the 1st of September, I started for Kansas,
stopping a couple of weeks in St. Louis, and reached Leavenworth.
I found about two miles below the fort, on the river-bank, where in
1851 was a tangled thicket, quite a handsome and thriving city,
growing rapidly in rivalry with Kansas City, and St. Joseph,
Missouri.  After looking about and consulting with friends, among
them my classmate Major Stewart Van Vliet, quartermaster at the
fort, I concluded to accept the proposition of Mr. Ewing, and
accordingly the firm of Sherman & Ewing was duly announced, and our
services to the public offered as attorneys-at-law.  We had an
office on Main Street, between Shawnee and Delaware, on the second
floor, over the office of Hampton Denman, Esq., mayor of the city.
This building was a mere shell, and our office was reached by a
stairway on the outside.  Although in the course of my military
reading I had studied a few of the ordinary law-books, such as
Blackstone, Kent, Starkie, etc., I did not presume to be a lawyer;
but our agreement was that Thomas Ewing, Jr., a good and thorough
lawyer, should manage all business in the courts, while I gave
attention to collections, agencies for houses and lands, and such
business as my experience in banking had qualified me for.  Yet, as
my name was embraced in a law-firm, it seemed to me proper to take
out a license.  Accordingly, one day when United States Judge
Lecompte was in our office, I mentioned the matter to him; he told
me to go down to the clerk of his court, and he would give me the
license.  I inquired what examination I would have to submit to,
and he replied, "None at all;" he would admit me on the ground of
general intelligence.

During that summer we got our share of the business of the
profession, then represented by several eminent law-firms,
embracing names that have since flourished in the Senate, and in
the higher courts of the country.  But the most lucrative single
case was given me by my friend Major Van Vliet, who employed me to
go to Fort Riley, one hundred and thirty-six miles west of Fort
Leavenworth, to superintend the repairs to the military road.  For
this purpose he supplied me with a four-mule ambulance and driver.
The country was then sparsely settled, and quite as many Indians
were along the road as white people; still there were embryo towns
all along the route, and a few farms sprinkled over the beautiful
prairies.  On reaching Indianola, near Topeka, I found everybody
down with the chills and fever.  My own driver became so shaky that
I had to act as driver and cook.  But in due season I reconnoitred
the road, and made contracts for repairing some bridges, and for
cutting such parts of the road as needed it.  I then returned to
Fort Leavenworth, and reported, receiving a fair compensation.  On
my way up I met Colonel Sumner's column, returning from their
summer scout on the plains, and spent the night with the officers,
among whom were Captains Sackett, Sturgis, etc.  Also at Fort Riley
I was cordially received and entertained by some old army-friends,
among them Major Sedgwick, Captains Totted, Eli Long, etc.

Mrs. Sherman and children arrived out in November, and we spent the
winter very comfortably in the house of Thomas Ewing, Jr., on the
corner of Third and Pottawottamie Streets.  On the 1st of January,
1859, Daniel McCook, Esq., was admitted to membership in our firm,
which became Sherman, Ewing & McCook.  Our business continued to
grow, but, as the income hardly sufficed for three such expensive
personages, I continued to look about for something more certain
and profitable, and during that spring undertook for the Hon.
Thomas Ewing, of Ohio, to open a farm on a large tract of land he
owned on Indian Creek, forty miles west of Leavenworth, for the
benefit of his grand-nephew, Henry Clark, and his grand-niece, Mrs.
Walker.  These arrived out in the spring, by which time I had
caused to be erected a small frame dwelling-house, a barn, and
fencing for a hundred acres.  This helped to pass away time, but
afforded little profit; and on the 11th of June, 1859, I wrote to
Major D. C. Buel, assistant adjutant-general, on duty in the War
Department with Secretary of War Floyd, inquiring if there was a
vacancy among the army paymasters, or any thing in his line that I
could obtain.  He replied promptly, and sent me the printed
programme for a military college about to be organized in
Louisiana, and advised me to apply for the superintendent's place,
saying that General G. Mason Graham, the half-brother of my old
commanding-general, R. B. Mason, was very influential in this
matter, and would doubtless befriend me on account of the relations
that had existed between General Mason and myself in California.
Accordingly, I addressed a letter of application to the Hon. R. C.
Wickliffe, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, asking the answer to be sent to
me at Lancaster, Ohio, where I proposed to leave my family.  But,
before leaving this branch of the subject, I must explain a little
matter of which I have seen an account in print, complimentary or
otherwise of the firm of Sherman, Ewing & McCook, more especially
of the senior partner.

One day, as I sat in our office, an Irishman came in and said he
had a case and wanted a lawyer.  I asked him to sit down and give
me the points of his case, all the other members of the firm being
out.  Our client stated that he had rented a lot of an Irish
landlord for five dollars a month; that he had erected thereon a
small frame shanty, which was occupied by his family; that he had,
paid his rent regularly up to a recent period, but to his house he
had appended a shed which extended over a part of an adjoining
vacant lot belonging to the same landlord, for which he was charged
two and a half dollars a month, which he refused to pay.  The
consequence was, that his landlord had for a few months declined
even his five dollars monthly rent until the arrears amounted to
about seventeen dollars, for which he was sued.  I told him we
would undertake his case, of which I took notes, and a fee of five
dollars in advance, and in due order I placed the notes in the
hands of McCook, and thought no more of it.

A month or so after, our client rushed into the office and said his
case had been called at Judge Gardner's (I think), and he wanted
his lawyer right away.  I sent him up to the Circuit Court, Judge
Pettit's, for McCook, but he soon returned, saying he could not
find McCook, and accordingly I hurried with him up to Judge
Gardner's office, intending to ask a continuance, but I found our
antagonist there, with his lawyer and witnesses, and Judge Gardner
would not grant a continuance, so of necessity I had to act, hoping
that at every minute McCook would come.  But the trial proceeded
regularly to its end; we were beaten, and judgment was entered
against our client for the amount claimed, and costs.  As soon as
the matter was explained to McCook, he said "execution" could not
be taken for ten days, and, as our client was poor, and had nothing
on which the landlord could levy but his house, McCook advised him
to get his neighbors together, to pick up the house, and carry it
on to another vacant lot, belonging to a non-resident, so that even
the house could not be taken in execution.  Thus the grasping
landlord, though successful in his judgment, failed in the
execution, and our client was abundantly satisfied.

In due time I closed up my business at Leavenworth, and went to
Lancaster, Ohio, where, in July, 1859, I received notice from
Governor Wickliffe that I had been elected superintendent of the
proposed college, and inviting me to come down to Louisiana as
early as possible, because they were anxious to put the college
into operation by the 1st of January following.  For this honorable
position I was indebted to Major D. C. Buell and General G. Mason
Graham, to whom I have made full and due acknowledgment.  During
the civil war, it was reported and charged that I owed my position
to the personal friendship of Generals Bragg and Beauregard, and
that, in taking up arms against the South, I had been guilty of a
breach of hospitality and friendship.  I was not indebted to
General Bragg, because he himself told me that he was not even
aware that I was an applicant, and had favored the selection of
Major Jenkins, another West Point graduate.  General Beauregard had
nothing whatever to do with the matter.




CHAPTER VII.

LOUISIANA

1859-1861.


In the autumn of 1859, having made arrangements for my family to
remain in Lancaster, I proceeded, via Columbus, Cincinnati, and
Louisville, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where I reported for duty to
Governor Wickliffe, who, by virtue of his office, was the president
of the Board of Supervisors of the new institution over which I was
called to preside.  He explained to me the act of the Legislature
under which the institution was founded; told me that the building
was situated near Alexandria, in the parish of Rapides, and was
substantially finished; that the future management would rest with
a Board of Supervisors, mostly citizens of Rapides Parish, where
also resided the Governor-elect, T. O. Moore, who would soon
succeed him in his office as Governor and president ex officio; and
advised me to go at once to Alexandria, and put myself in
communication with Moore and the supervisors.  Accordingly I took a
boat at Baton Rouge, for the mouth of Red River.

The river being low, and its navigation precarious, I there took
the regular mail-coach, as the more certain conveyance, and
continued on toward Alexandria.  I found, as a fellow-passenger in
the coach, Judge Henry Boyce, of the United States District Court,
with whom I had made acquaintance years before, at St. Louis, and,
as we neared Alexandria, he proposed that we should stop at
Governor Moore's and spend the night.  Moore's house and plantation
were on Bayou Robert, about eight miles from Alexandria.  We found
him at home, with his wife and a married daughter, and spent the
night there.  He sent us forward to Alexandria the next morning, in
his own carriage.  On arriving at Alexandria, I put up at an inn,
or boarding-house, and almost immediately thereafter went about ten
miles farther up Bayou Rapides, to the plantation and house of
General G. Mason Graham, to whom I looked as the principal man with
whom I had to deal.  He was a high-toned gentleman, and his whole
heart was in the enterprise.  He at once put me at ease.  We acted
together most cordially from that time forth, and it was at his
house that all the details of the seminary were arranged.  We first
visited the college-building together.  It was located on an old
country place of four hundred acres of pineland, with numerous
springs, and the building was very large and handsome.  A
carpenter, named James, resided there, and had the general charge
of the property; but, as there was not a table, chair, black-board,
or any thing on hand, necessary for a beginning, I concluded to
quarter myself in one of the rooms of the seminary, and board with
an old black woman who cooked for James, so that I might personally
push forward the necessary preparations.  There was an old
rail-fence about the place, and a large pile of boards in front.  I
immediately engaged four carpenters, and set them at work to make
out of these boards mess-tables, benches, black-boards, etc.  I
also opened a correspondence with the professors-elect, and with
all parties of influence in the State, who were interested in our
work: At the meeting of the Board of Supervisors, held at
Alexandria, August 2, 1859, five professors had been elected:
1.  W. T. Sherman, Superintendent, and Professor of Engineering, etc.;
2.  Anthony Vallas, Professor of Mathematics, Philosophy, etc.;
3.  Francis W. Smith, Professor of Chemistry, etc.;
4.  David F. Boyd, Professor of Languages, English and Ancient;
5.  E. Berti St. Ange, Professor of French and Modern Languages.

These constituted the Academic Board, while the general supervision
remained in the Board of Supervisors, composed of the Governor of
the State, the Superintendent of Public Education, and twelve
members, nominated by the Governor, and confirmed by the Senate.
The institution was bound to educate sixteen beneficiary students,
free of any charge for tuition.  These had only to pay for their
clothing and books, while all others had to pay their entire
expenses, including tuition.

Early in November, Profs.  Smith, Yallas, St. Ange, and I, met a
committee of the Board of Supervisors, composed of T. C. Manning,
G. Mason Graham, and W. W. Whittington, at General Graham's house,
and resolved to open the institution to pupils on the 1st day of
January, 1860.  We adopted a series of bylaws for the government of
the institution, which was styled the "Louisiana Seminary of
Learning and Military Academy."  This title grew out of the
original grant, by the Congress of the United States, of a certain
township of public land, to be sold by the State, and dedicated to
the use of a "seminary of learning."  I do not suppose that
Congress designed thereby to fix the name or title; but the subject
had so long been debated in Louisiana that the name, though
awkward, had become familiar.  We appended to it "Military
Academy," as explanatory of its general design.

On the 17th of November, 1859, the Governor of the State,
Wickliffe, issued officially a general circular, prepared by us,
giving public notice that the "Seminary of Learning" would open on
the 1st day of January, 1860; containing a description of the
locality, and the general regulations for the proposed institution;
and authorizing parties to apply for further information to the
"Superintendent," at Alexandria, Louisiana.

The Legislature had appropriated for the sixteen beneficiaries at
the rate of two hundred and eighty-three dollars per annum, to
which we added sixty dollars as tuition for pay cadets; and, though
the price was low, we undertook to manage for the first year on
that basis.

Promptly to the day, we opened, with about sixty cadets present.
Major Smith was the commandant of cadets, and I the superintendent.
I had been to New Orleans, where I had bought a supply of
mattresses, books, and every thing requisite, and we started very
much on the basis of West Point and of the Virginia Military
Institute, but without uniforms or muskets; yet with roll-calls,
sections, and recitations, we kept as near the standard of West
Point as possible.  I kept all the money accounts, and gave general
directions to the steward, professors, and cadets.  The other
professors had their regular classes and recitations.  We all lived
in rooms in the college building, except Vallas, who had a family,
and rented a house near by.  A Creole gentleman, B. Jarrean, Esq.,
had been elected steward, and he also had his family in a house not
far off.  The other professors had a mess in a room adjoining the
mess-hall.  A few more cadets joined in the course of the winter,
so that we had in all, during the first term, seventy-three cadets,
of whom fifty-nine passed the examination on the 30th of July,
1860.  During our first term many defects in the original act of
the Legislature were demonstrated, and, by the advice of the Board
of Supervisors, I went down to Baton Rouge during the session of
the Legislature, to advocate and urge the passage of a new bill,
putting the institution on a better footing.  Thomas O. Moors was
then Governor, Bragg was a member of the Board of Public Works, and
Richard Taylor was a Senator.  I got well acquainted with all of
these, and with some of the leading men of the State, and was
always treated with the greatest courtesy and kindness.  In
conjunction with the proper committee of the Legislature, we
prepared a new bill, which was passed and approved on the 7th of
March, 1860, by which we were to have a beneficiary cadet for each
parish, in all fifty-six, and fifteen thousand dollars annually for
their maintenance; also twenty thousand dollars for the general use
of the college.  During that session we got an appropriation of
fifteen thousand dollars for building two professors' houses, for
the purchase of philosophical and chemical apparatus, and for the
beginning of a college library.  The seminary was made a State
Arsenal, under the title of State Central Arsenal, and I was
allowed five hundred dollars a year as its superintendent.  These
matters took me several times to Baton Rouge that winter, and I
recall an event of some interest, which most have happened in
February.  At that time my brother, John Sherman, was a candidate,
in the national House of Representatives, for Speaker, against
Bocock, of Virginia.  In the South he was regarded as an
"abolitionist," the most horrible of all monsters; and many people
of Louisiana looked at me with suspicion, as the brother of the
abolitionist, John Sherman, and doubted the propriety of having me
at the head of an important State institution.  By this time I was
pretty well acquainted with many of their prominent men, was
generally esteemed by all in authority, and by the people of
Rapides Parish especially, who saw that I was devoted to my
particular business, and that I gave no heed to the political
excitement of the day.  But the members of the State Senate and
House did not know me so well, and it was natural that they should
be suspicions of a Northern man, and the brother of him who was the
"abolition" candidate for Speaker of the House.

One evening, at a large dinner-party at Governor Moore's, at which
were present several members of the Louisiana Legislature, Taylor,
Bragg, and the Attorney-General Hyams, after the ladies had left
the table, I noticed at Governor Moore's end quite a lively
discussion going on, in which my name was frequently used; at
length the Governor called to me, saying: "Colonel Sherman, you can
readily understand that, with your brother the abolitionist
candidate for Speaker, some of our people wonder that you should be
here at the head of an important State institution.  Now, you are
at my table, and I assure you of my confidence.  Won't you speak
your mind freely on this question of slavery, that so agitates the
land? You are under my roof, and, whatever you say, you have my
protection."


I answered: "Governor Moors, you mistake in calling my brother,
John Sherman, an abolitionist.  We have been separated since
childhood--I in the army, and he pursuing his profession of
law in Northern Ohio; and it is possible we may differ in
general sentiment, but I deny that he is considered at home an
abolitionist; and, although he prefers the free institutions under
which he lives to those of slavery which prevail here, he would not
of himself take from you by law or force any property whatever,
even slaves."

Then said Moore: "Give us your own views of slavery as you see it
here and throughout the South."

I answered in effect that "the people of Louisiana were hardly
responsible for slavery, as they had inherited it; that I found two
distinct conditions of slavery, domestic and field hands.  The
domestic slaves, employed by the families, were probably better
treated than any slaves on earth; but the condition of the
field-hands was different, depending more on the temper and
disposition of their masters and overseers than were those employed
about the house;" and I went on to say that, "were I a citizen of
Louisiana, and a member of the Legislature, I would deem it wise to
bring the legal condition of the slaves more near the status of
human beings under all Christian and civilized governments.  In the
first place, I argued that, in sales of slaves made by the State, I
would forbid the separation of families, letting the father,
mother, and children, be sold together to one person, instead of
each to the highest bidder.  And, again, I would advise the repeal
of the statute which enacted a severe penalty for even the owner to
teach his slave to read and write, because that actually qualified
property and took away a part of its value; illustrating the
assertion by the case of Henry Sampson, who had been the slave of
Colonel Chambers, of Rapides Parish, who had gone to California as
the servant of an officer of the army, and who was afterward
employed by me in the bank at San Francisco.  At first he could not
write or read, and I could only afford to pay him one hundred
dollars a month; but he was taught to read and write by Reilley,
our bank-teller, when his services became worth two hundred and
fifty dollars a month, which enabled him to buy his own freedom and
that of his brother and his family."

What I said was listened to by all with the most profound
attention; and, when I was through, some one (I think it was Mr.
Hyams) struck the table with his fist, making the glasses jingle,
and said, "By God, he is right!" and at once he took up the debate,
which went on, for an hour or more, on both sides with ability and
fairness.  Of course, I was glad to be thus relieved, because at
the time all men in Louisiana were dreadfully excited on questions
affecting their slaves, who constituted the bulk of their wealth,
and without whom they honestly believed that sugar, cotton, and
rice, could not possibly be cultivated.

On the 30th and 31st of July, 1860, we had an examination at the
seminary, winding up with a ball, and as much publicity as possible
to attract general notice; and immediately thereafter we all
scattered--the cadets to their homes, and the professors wherever
they pleased--all to meet again on the 1st day of the next
November.  Major Smith and I agreed to meet in New York on a
certain day in August, to purchase books, models, etc.  I went
directly to my family in Lancaster, and after a few days proceeded
to Washington, to endeavor to procure from the General Government
the necessary muskets and equipments for our cadets by the
beginning of the next term.  I was in Washington on the 17th
day of August, and hunted up my friend Major Buell, of the
Adjutant-General's Department, who was on duty with the Secretary of
War, Floyd.  I had with me a letter of Governor Moore's, authorizing
me to act in his name.  Major Buell took me into Floyd's room at the
War Department, to whom I explained my business, and I was agreeably
surprised to meet with such easy success.  Although the State of
Louisiana had already drawn her full quota of arms, Floyd promptly
promised to order my requisition to be filled, and I procured the
necessary blanks at the Ordnance-Office, filled them with two
hundred cadet muskets, and all equipments complete, and was assured
that all these articles would be shipped to Louisiana in season for
our use that fall.  These assurances were faithfully carried out.

I then went on to New York, there met Major Smith according to
appointment, and together we selected and purchased a good supply
of uniforms, clothing, and text books, as well as a fair number of
books of history and fiction, to commence a library.

When this business was completed, I returned to Lancaster, and
remained with my family till the time approached for me to return
to Louisiana.  I again left my family at Lancaster, until assured
of the completion of the two buildings designed for the married
professors for which I had contracted that spring with Mr. Mills,
of Alexandria, and which were well under progress when I left in
August.  One of these was designed for me and the other for Vallas.
Mr. Ewing presented me with a horse, which I took down the river
with me, and en route I ordered from Grimsley & Co. a full
equipment of saddle, bridle, etc., the same that I used in the war,
and which I lost with my horse, shot under me at Shiloh.

Reaching Alexandria early in October, I pushed forward the
construction of the two buildings, some fences, gates, and all
other work, with the object of a more perfect start at the opening
of the regular term November 1, 1860.

About this time Dr. Powhatan Clark was elected Assistant Professor
of Chemistry, etc., and acted as secretary of the Board of
Supervisors, but no other changes were made in our small circle of
professors.

November came, and with it nearly if not quite all our first set of
cadets, and others, to the number of about one hundred and thirty.
We divided them into two companies, issued arms and clothing, and
began a regular system of drills and instruction, as well as the
regular recitations.  I had moved into my new house, but prudently
had not sent for my family, nominally on the ground of waiting
until the season was further advanced, but really because of the
storm that was lowering heavy on the political horizon.  The
presidential election was to occur in November, and the nominations
had already been made in stormy debates by the usual conventions.
Lincoln and Hamlin (to the South utterly unknown) were the nominees
of the Republican party, and for the first time both these
candidates were from Northern States.  The Democratic party
divided--one set nominating a ticket at Charleston, and the other
at Baltimore.  Breckenridge and Lane were the nominees of the
Southern or Democratic party; and Bell and Everett, a kind of
compromise, mostly in favor in Louisiana.  Political excitement was
at its very height, and it was constantly asserted that Mr.
Lincoln's election would imperil the Union.  I purposely kept aloof
from politics, would take no part, and remember that on the day of
the election in November I was notified that it would be advisable
for me to vote for Bell and Everett, but I openly said I would not,
and I did not.  The election of Mr. Lincoln fell upon us all like a
clap of thunder.  People saw and felt that the South had threatened
so long that, if she quietly submitted, the question of slavery in
the Territories was at an end forever.  I mingled freely with the
members of the Board of Supervisors, and with the people of Rapides
Parish generally, keeping aloof from all cliques and parties, and I
certainly hoped that the threatened storm would blow over, as had
so often occurred before, after similar threats.  At our seminary
the order of exercises went along with the regularity of the
seasons.  Once a week, I had the older cadets to practise reading,
reciting, and elocution, and noticed that their selections were
from Calhoun, Yancey, and other Southern speakers, all treating of
the defense of their slaves and their home institutions as the very
highest duty of the patriot.  Among boys this was to be expected;
and among the members of our board, though most of them declaimed
against politicians generally, and especially abolitionists, as
pests, yet there was a growing feeling that danger was in the wind.
I recall the visit of a young gentleman who had been sent from
Jackson, by the Governor of Mississippi, to confer with Governor
Moore, then on his plantation at Bayou Robert, and who had come
over to see our college.  He spoke to me openly of secession as a
fixed fact, and that its details were only left open for
discussion.  I also recall the visit of some man who was said to be
a high officer in the order of "Knights of the Golden Circle," of
the existence of which order I was even ignorant, until explained
to me by Major Smith and Dr. Clark.  But in November, 1860, no man
ever approached me offensively, to ascertain my views, or my
proposed course of action in case of secession, and no man in or
out of authority ever tried to induce me to take part in steps
designed to lead toward disunion.  I think my general opinions were
well known and understood, viz., that "secession was treason, was
war;" and that in no event would the North and West permit the
Mississippi River to pass out of their control.  But some men at
the South actually supposed at the time that the Northwestern
States, in case of a disruption of the General Government, would be
drawn in self-interest to an alliance with the South.  What I now
write I do not offer as any thing like a history of the important
events of that time, but rather as my memory of them, the effect
they had on me personally, and to what extent they influenced my
personal conduct.

South Carolina seceded December 20, 1860, and Mississippi soon
after.  Emissaries came to Louisiana to influence the Governor,
Legislature, and people, and it was the common assertion that, if
all the Cotton States would follow the lead of South Carolina, it
would diminish the chances of civil war, because a bold and
determined front would deter the General Government from any
measures of coercion.  About this time also, viz., early in
December, we received Mr. Buchanan's annual message to Congress, in
which he publicly announced that the General Government had no
constitutional power to "coerce a State."  I confess this staggered
me, and I feared that the prophecies and assertions of Alison and
other European commentators on our form of government were right,
and that our Constitution was a mere rope of sand, that would break
with the first pressure.

The Legislature of Louisiana met on the 10th of December, and
passed an act calling a convention of delegates from the people, to
meet at Baton Rouge, on the 8th of January, to take into
consideration the state of the Union; and, although it was
universally admitted that a large majority of the voters of the
State were opposed to secession, disunion, and all the steps of the
South Carolinians, yet we saw that they were powerless, and that
the politicians would sweep them along rapidly to the end,
prearranged by their leaders in Washington.  Before the ordinance
of secession was passed, or the convention had assembled, on the
faith of a telegraphic dispatch sent by the two Senators, Benjamin
and Slidell, from their seats in the United States Senate at
Washington, Governor Moore ordered the seizure of all the United
States forts at the mouth of the Mississippi and Lake
Pontchartrain, and of the United States arsenal at Baton Rouge.
The forts had no garrisons, but the arsenal was held by a small
company of artillery, commanded by Major Haskins, a most worthy and
excellent officer, who had lost an arm in Mexico.  I remember well
that I was strongly and bitterly impressed by the seizure of the
arsenal, which occurred on January 10, 1861.

When I went first to Baton Rouge, in 1859, en route to Alexandria,
I found Captain Rickett's company of artillery stationed in the
arsenal, but soon after there was somewhat of a clamor on the Texas
frontier about Brownsville, which induced the War Department to
order Rickett's company to that frontier.  I remember that Governor
Moore remonstrated with the Secretary of War because so much
dangerous property, composed of muskets, powder, etc., had been
left by the United States unguarded, in a parish where the slave
population was as five or six to one of whites; and it was on his
official demand that the United States Government ordered Haskinss
company to replace Rickett's.  This company did not number forty
men.  In the night of January 9th, about five hundred New Orleans
militia, under command of a Colonel Wheat, went up from New Orleans
by boat, landed, surrounded the arsenal, and demanded its
surrender.  Haskins was of course unprepared for such a step, yet
he at first resolved to defend the post as he best could with his
small force.  But Bragg, who was an old army acquaintance of his,
had a parley with him, exhibited to him the vastly superior force
of his assailants, embracing two field-batteries, and offered to
procure for him honorable terms, to march out with drums and
colors, and to take unmolested passage in a boat up to St. Louis;
alleging, further, that the old Union was at an end, and that a
just settlement would be made between the two new fragments for all
the property stored in the arsenal.  Of course it was Haskins's
duty to have defended his post to the death; but up to that time
the national authorities in Washington had shown such
pusillanimity, that the officers of the army knew not what to do.
The result, anyhow, was that Haskins surrendered his post, and at
once embarked for St. Louis.  The arms and munitions stored in the
arsenal were scattered--some to Mississippi, some to New Orleans,
some to Shreveport; and to me, at the Central Arsenal, were
consigned two thousand muskets, three hundred Jager rifles, and a
large amount of cartridges and ammunition.  The invoices were
signed by the former ordnance-sergeant, Olodowski, as a captain of
ordnance, and I think he continued such on General Bragg's staff
through the whole of the subsequent civil war.  These arms, etc.,
came up to me at Alexandria, with orders from Governor Moore to
receipt for and account for them.  Thus I was made the receiver of
stolen goods, and these goods the property of the United States.
This grated hard on my feelings as an ex-army-officer, and on
counting the arms I noticed that they were packed in the old
familiar boxes, with the "U. S."  simply scratched off.  General G.
Mason Graham had resigned as the chairman of the Executive
Committee, and Dr. S. A. Smith, of Alexandria, then a member of the
State Senate, had succeeded him as chairman, and acted as head of
the Board of Supervisors.  At the time I was in most intimate
correspondence with all of these parties, and our letters must have
been full of politics, but I have only retained copies of a few of
the letters, which I will embody in this connection, as they will
show, better than by any thing I can now recall, the feelings of
parties at that critical period.  The seizure of the arsenal at
Baton Rouge occurred January 10, 1861, and the secession ordinance
was not passed until about the 25th or 26th of the same month.  At
all events, after the seizure of the arsenal, and before the
passage of the ordinance of secession, viz., on the 18th of
January, I wrote as follows:


Louisiana State Seminary of Learning and Military Academy
January 18, 1861

Governor THOMAS O. MOORE, Baton, Rouge, Louisiana.

Sir: As I occupy a quasi-military position under the laws of the
State, I deem it proper to acquaint you that I accepted such
position when Louisiana was a State in the Union, and when the
motto of this seminary was inserted in marble over the main door:
"By the liberality of the General Government of the United States.
The Union--esto perpetua."

Recent events foreshadow a great change, and it becomes all men to
choose.  If Louisiana withdraw from the Federal Union, I prefer to
maintain my allegiance to the Constitution as long as a fragment of
it survives; and my longer stay here would be wrong in every sense
of the word.

In that event, I beg you will send or appoint some authorized agent
to take charge of the arms and munitions of war belonging to the
State, or advise me what disposition to make of them.

And furthermore, as president of the Board of Supervisors, I beg
you to take immediate steps to relieve me as superintendent, the
moment the State determines to secede, for on no earthly account
will I do any act or think any thought hostile to or in defiance of
the old Government of the United States.

With great respect, your obedient servant,

W. T. SHERMAN, Superintendent.



[PRIVATE.]

January 18, 1861.

To Governor Moore:

My Dear Sir: I take it for granted that you have been expecting for
some days the accompanying paper from me (the above official
letter).  I have repeatedly and again made known to General Graham
and Dr. Smith that, in the event of a severance of the relations
hitherto existing between the Confederated States of this Union, I
would be forced to choose the old Union.  It is barely possible all
the States may secede, South and North, that new combinations may
result, but this process will be one of time and uncertainty, and I
cannot with my opinions await the subsequent development.

I have never been a politician, and therefore undervalue the
excited feelings and opinions of present rulers, but I do think, if
this people cannot execute a form of government like the present,
that a worse one will result.

I will keep the cadets as quiet as possible.  They are nervous, but
I think the interest of the State requires them here, guarding this
property, and acquiring a knowledge which will be useful to your
State in after-times.

When I leave, which I now regard as certain, the present professors
can manage well enough, to afford you leisure time to find a
suitable successor to me.  You might order Major Smith to receipt
for the arms, and to exercise military command, while the academic
exercises could go on under the board.  In time, some gentleman
will turn up, better qualified than I am, to carry on the seminary
to its ultimate point of success.  I entertain the kindest feelings
toward all, and would leave the State with much regret; only in
great events we must choose, one way or the other.

Truly, your friend,

W. T. SHERMAN



January 19, 1881--Saturday.

Dr. S. A. Smith, President Board of Supervisors, Baton Rouge,
Louisiana.

Dear Sir: I have just finished my quarterly reports to the parents
of all the cadets here, or who have been here.  All my books of
account are written up to date.  All bills for the houses, fences,
etc., are settled, and nothing now remains but the daily tontine of
recitations and drills.  I have written officially and unofficially
to Governor Moore, that with my opinions of the claimed right of
accession, of the seizure of public forts, arsenals, etc., and the
ignominious capture of a United States garrison, stationed in your
midst, as a guard to the arsenal and for the protection of your own
people, it would be highly improper for me longer to remain.  No
great inconvenience can result to the seminary.  I will be the
chief loser.  I came down two months before my pay commenced.  I
made sacrifices in Kansas to enable me thus to obey the call of
Governor Wickliffe, and you know that last winter I declined a most
advantageous offer of employment abroad; and thus far I have
received nothing as superintendent of the arsenal, though I went to
Washington and New York (at my own expense) on the faith of the
five hundred dollars salary promised.

These are all small matters in comparison with those involved in
the present state of the country, which will cause sacrifices by
millions, instead of by hundreds.  The more I think of it, the more
I think I should be away, the sooner the better; and therefore I
hope you will join with Governor Moors in authorizing me to turn
over to Major Smith the military command here, and to the academic
board the control of the daily exercises and recitations.

There will be no necessity of your coming up.  You can let Major
Smith receive the few hundreds of cash I have on hand, and I can
meet you on a day certain in New Orleans, when we can settle the
bank account.  Before I leave, I can pay the steward Jarrean his
account for the month, and there would be no necessity for other
payments till about the close of March, by which time the board can
meet, and elect a treasurer and superintendent also.

At present I have no class, and there will be none ready till about
the month of May, when there will be a class in "surveying."  Even
if you do not elect a superintendent in the mean time, Major Smith
could easily teach this class, as he is very familiar with the
subject-matter: Indeed, I think you will do well to leave the
subject of a new superintendent until one perfectly satisfactory
turns up.

There is only one favor I would ask.  The seminary has plenty of
money in bank.  The Legislature will surely appropriate for my
salary as superintendent of this arsenal.  Would you not let me
make my drafts on the State Treasury, send them to you, let the
Treasurer note them for payment when the appropriation is made, and
then pay them out of the seminary fund?  The drafts will be paid in
March, and the seminary will lose nothing.  This would be just to
me; for I actually spent two hundred dollars and more in going to
Washington and New York, thereby securing from the United States,
in advance, three thousand dollars' worth of the very best arms;
and clothing and books, at a clear profit to the seminary of over
eight hundred dollars.  I may be some time in finding new
employment, and will stand in need of this money (five hundred
dollars); otherwise I would abandon it.

I will not ask you to put the Board of Supervisors to the trouble
of meeting, unless you can get a quorum at Baton Rouge.

With great respect, your friend,

W. T. SHERMAN.


By course of mail, I received the following answer from Governor
Moore, the original of which I still possess.  It is all in General
Braggs handwriting, with which I am familiar--


Executive Office,

BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA, January 23, 1861

MY DEAR SIR: It is with the deepest regret I acknowledge receipt of
your communication of the 18th inst.  In the pressure of official
business, I can now only request you to transfer to Prof. Smith the
arms, munitions, and funds in your hands, whenever you conclude to
withdraw from the position you have filled with so much
distinction.  You cannot regret more than I do the necessity which
deprives us of your services, and you will bear with you the
respect, confidence, and admiration, of all who have been
associated with you.  Very truly, your friend,

Thomas O. Moore.

Colonel W. T. SHERMAN, Superintendent Military Academy, Alexandria.


I must have received several letters from Bragg, about this time,
which have not been preserved; for I find that, on the 1st of
February, 1861, I wrote him thus:

Seminary of Learning
Alexandria, LOUISIANA, February 1, 1881.

Colonel Braxton BRAGG, Baton, Rouge, Louisiana.

Dear Sir: Yours of January 23d and 27th are received.  I thank you
most kindly, and Governor Moors through you, for the kind manner in
which you have met my wishes.

Now that I cannot be compromised by political events, I will so
shape my course as best to serve the institution, which has a
strong hold on my affections and respect.

The Board of Supervisors will be called for the 9th instant, and I
will cooperate with them in their measures to place matters here on
a safe and secure basis.  I expect to be here two weeks, and will
make you full returns of money and property belonging to the State
Central Arsenal.  All the arms and ammunition are safely stored
here.  Then I will write you more at length.  With sincere respect,
your friend,

W. T. SHERMAN.


Major Smith's receipt to me, for the arms and property belonging
both to the seminary and to the arsenal, is dated February 19,
1861.  I subjoin also, in this connection, copies of one or two
papers that may prove of interest


BATON ROUGE, January 28, 1881.
To Major SHERMAN, Superintendent, Alexandria.

My DEAR SIR: Your letter was duly receive, and would have been
answered ere this time could I have arranged sooner the matter of
the five hundred dollars.  I shall go from here to New Orleans
to-day or tomorrow, and will remain there till Saturday after next,
perhaps.  I shall expect to meet you there, as indicated in your
note to me.

I need not tell you that it is with no ordinary regret that I view
your determination to leave us, for really I believe that the
success of our institution, now almost assured, is jeopardized
thereby.  I am sore that we will never have a superintendent with
whom I shall have more pleasant relations than those which have
existed between yourself and me.

I fully appreciate the motives which have induced you to give up a
position presenting so many advantages to yourself, and sincerely
hope that you may, in any future enterprise, enjoy the success
which your character and ability merit and deserve.

Should you come down on the Rapides (steamer), please look after my
wife, who will, I hope, accompany you on said boat, or some other
good one.

Colonel Bragg informs me that the necessary orders have been given
for the transfer and receipt by Major Smith of the public property.

I herewith transmit a request to the secretary to convene the Board
of Supervisors, that they may act as seems best to them in the
premises.

In the mean time, Major Smith will command by seniority the cadets,
and the Academic Board will be able to conduct the scientific
exercises of the institution until the Board of Supervisors can
have time to act.  Hoping to meet you soon at the St. Charles, I
am,

Most truly, your friend and servant,    S. A. Smith

P. S. Governor Moors desires me to express his profound regret that
the State is about to lose one who we all fondly hoped had cast his
destinies for weal or for woe among us; and that he is sensible
that we lose thereby an officer whom it will be difficult, if not
impossible, to replace.

S. A. S.


BATON ROUGE, February 11, 1881.
To Major Sherman, Alexandria.

Dear Sir: I have been in New Orleans for ten days, and on returning
here find two letters from you, also your prompt answer to the
resolution of the House of Representatives, for which I am much
obliged.

The resolution passed the last day before adjournment.  I was
purposing to respond, when your welcome reports came to hand.  I
have arranged to pay you your five hundred dollars.

I will say nothing of general politics, except to give my opinion
that there is not to be any war.

In that event, would it not be possible for you to become a citizen
of our State? Everyone deplores your determination to leave us.  At
the same time, your friends feel that you are abandoning a position
that might become an object of desire to any one.

I will try to meet you in New Orleans at any time you may indicate;
but it would be best for you to stop here, when, if possible, I
will accompany you.  Should you do so, you will find me just above
the State-House, and facing it.

Bring with you a few copies of the "Rules of the Seminary."

Yours truly,

S. A. Smith


Colonel W. T. SHERMAN.

Sir: I am instructed by the Board of Supervisors of this
institution to present a copy of the resolutions adopted by them at
their last meeting.

"Resolved, That the thanks of the Board of Supervisors are due, and
are hereby tendered, to Colonel William T. Sherman for the able and
efficient manner in which he has conducted the affairs of the
seminary during the time the institution has been under his
control--a period attended with unusual difficulties, requiring on
the part of the superintendent to successfully overcome them a high
order of administrative talent.  And the board further bear willing
testimony to the valuable services that Colonel Sherman has
rendered them in their efforts to establish an institution of
learning in accordance with the beneficent design of the State and
Federal Governments; evincing at all times a readiness to adapt
himself to the ever-varying requirements of an institution of
learning in its infancy, struggling to attain a position of honor
and usefulness.

"Resolved, further, That, in accepting the resignation of Colonel
Sherman as Superintendent of the State Seminary of Learning and
Military Academy, we tender to him assurances of our high personal
regard, and our sincere regret at the occurrence of causes that
render it necessary to part with so esteemed and valued a friend,
as well as co-laborer in the cause of education."

Powhatan Clarke, Secretary of the Board.


A copy of the resolution of the Academic Board, passed at their
session of April 1,1861:

"Resolved, That in the resignation of the late superintendent,
Colonel W. T. Sherman, the Academic Board deem it not improper to
express their deep conviction of the loss the institution has
sustained in being thus deprived of an able head.  They cannot fail
to appreciate the manliness of character which has always marked
the actions of Colonel Sherman.  While he is personally endeared to
many of them as a friend, they consider it their high pleasure to
tender to him in this resolution their regret on his separation,
and their sincere wish for his future welfare."


I have given the above at some length, because, during the civil
war, it was in Southern circles asserted that I was guilty of a
breach of hospitality in taking up arms against the South.  They
were manifestly the aggressors, and we could only defend our own by
assailing them.  Yet, without any knowledge of what the future had
in store for me, I took unusual precautions that the institution
should not be damaged by my withdrawal.  About the 20th of
February, having turned over all property, records, and money, on
hand, to Major Smith, and taking with me the necessary documents to
make the final settlement with Dr. S. A. Smith, at the bank in New
Orleans, where the funds of the institution were deposited to my
credit, I took passage from Alexandria for that city, and arrived
there, I think, on the 23d.  Dr. Smith met me, and we went to the
bank, where I turned over to him the balance, got him to audit all
my accounts, certify that they were correct and just, and that
there remained not one cent of balance in my hands.  I charged in
my account current for my salary up to the end of February, at the
rate of four thousand dollars a year, and for the five hundred
dollars due me as superintendent of the Central Arsenal, all of
which was due and had been fairly earned, and then I stood free and
discharged of any and every obligation, honorary or business, that
was due by me to the State of Louisiana, or to any corporation or
individual in that State.

This business occupied two or three days, during which I staid at
the St. Louis Hotel.  I usually sat at table with Colonel and Mrs.
Bragg, and an officer who wore the uniform of the State of
Louisiana, and was addressed as captain.  Bragg wore a colonel's
uniform, and explained to me that he was a colonel in the State
service, a colonel of artillery, and that some companies of his
regiment garrisoned Forts Jackson and St. Philip, and the arsenal
at Baton Rouge.

Beauregard at the time had two sons at the Seminary of Learning.  I
had given them some of my personal care at the father's request,
and, wanting to tell him of their condition and progress, I went to
his usual office in the Custom-House Building, and found him in the
act of starting for Montgomery, Alabama.  Bragg said afterward that
Beauregard had been sent for by Jefferson Davis, and that it was
rumored that he had been made a brigadier-general, of which fact he
seemed jealous, because in the old army Bragg was the senior.

Davis and Stephens had been inaugurated President and
Vice-President of the Confederate States of America, February 18,
1860, at Montgomery, and those States only embraced the seven
cotton States.  I recall a conversation at the tea-table, one
evening, at the St. Louis Hotel.  When Bragg was speaking of
Beauregard's promotion, Mrs. Bragg, turning to me, said, "You know
that my husband is not a favorite with the new President."  My mind
was resting on Mr. Lincoln as the new President, and I said I did
not know that Bragg had ever met Mr. Lincoln, when Mrs. Bragg said,
quite pointedly, "I didn't mean your President, but our President."
I knew that Bragg hated Davis bitterly, and that he had resigned
from the army in 1855, or 1856, because Davis, as Secretary of War,
had ordered him, with his battery, from Jefferson Barracks,
Missouri, to Fort Smith or Fort Washita, in the Indian country, as
Bragg expressed it, "to chase Indians with six-pounders."

I visited the quartermaster, Colonel A. C. Myers, who had resigned
from the army, January 28, 1861, and had accepted service under the
new regime.  His office was in the same old room in the Lafayette
Square building, which he had in 1853, when I was there a
commissary, with the same pictures on the wall, and the letters "U.
S."  on every thing, including his desk, papers, etc.  I asked him
if he did not feel funny.  "No, not at all.  The thing was
inevitable, secession was a complete success; there would be no
war, but the two Governments would settle all matters of business
in a friendly spirit, and each would go on in its allotted sphere,
without further confusion."  About this date, February 16th,
General Twiggs, Myers's father-in-law, had surrendered his entire
command, in the Department of Texas, to some State troops, with all
the Government property, thus consummating the first serious step
in the drama of the conspiracy, which was to form a confederacy of
the cotton States, before working upon the other slave or border
States, and before the 4th of March, the day for the inauguration
of President Lincoln.

I walked the streets of New Orleans, and found business going along
as usual.  Ships were strung for miles along the lower levee, and
steamboats above, all discharging or receiving cargo.  The Pelican
flag of Louisiana was flying over the Custom House, Mint, City
Hall, and everywhere.  At the levee ships carried every flag on
earth except that of the United States, and I was told that during
a procession on the 22d of February, celebrating their emancipation
from the despotism of the United States Government, only one
national flag was shown from a house, and that the houses of
Cuthbert Bullitt, on Lafayette Square.  He was commanded to take it
down, but he refused, and defended it with his pistol.

The only officer of the army that I can recall, as being there at
the time, who was faithful, was Colonel C. L. Kilburn, of the
Commissary Department, and he was preparing to escape North.

Everybody regarded the change of Government as final; that
Louisiana, by a mere declaration, was a free and independent State,
and could enter into any new alliance or combination she chose.

Men were being enlisted and armed, to defend the State, and there
was not the least evidence that the national Administration
designed to make any effort, by force, to vindicate the national
authority.  I therefore bade adieu to all my friends, and about the
25th of February took my departure by railroad, for Lancaster, via
Cairo and Cincinnati.

Before leaving this subject, I will simply record the fate of some
of my associates.  The seminary was dispersed by the war, and all
the professors and cadets took service in the Confederacy, except
Yallas, St. Ange, and Cadet Taliaferro.  The latter joined a Union
regiment, as a lieutenant, after New Orleans was retaken by the
United States fleet under Farragut.  I think that both Yallas and
St. Ange have died in poverty since the war.  Major Smith joined
the rebel army in Virginia, and was killed in April, 1865, as he
was withdrawing his garrison, by night, from the batteries at
Drury's Bluff, at the time General Lee began his final retreat from
Richmond.  Boyd became a captain of engineers on the staff of
General Richard Taylor, was captured, and was in jail at Natchez,
Mississippi, when I was on my Meridian expedition.  He succeeded in
getting a letter to me on my arrival at Vicksburg, and, on my way
down to New Orleans, I stopped at Natchez, took him along, and
enabled him to effect an exchange through General Banks.  As soon
as the war was over, he returned to Alexandria, and reorganized the
old institution, where I visited him in 1867; but, the next winter,
the building took fire end burned to the ground.  The students,
library, apparatus, etc., were transferred to Baton Rouge, where
the same institution now is, under the title of the Louisiana
University.  I have been able to do them many acts of kindness, and
am still in correspondence, with Colonel Boyd, its president.

General G. Mason Graham is still living on his plantation, on Bayou
Rapides, old and much respected.

Dr. S. A. Smith became a surgeon in the rebel army, and at the
close of the war was medical director of the trans-Mississippi
Department, with General Kirby Smith.  I have seen him since the
war, at New Orleans, where he died about a year ago.

Dr. Clark was in Washington recently, applying for a place as
United States consul abroad.  I assisted him, but with no success,
and he is now at Baltimore, Maryland.

After the battle of Shiloh, I found among the prisoners Cadet
Barrow, fitted him out with some clean clothing, of which he was in
need, and from him learned that Cadet Workman was killed in that
battle.

Governor Moore's plantation was devastated by General Banks's
troops.  After the war he appealed to me, and through the
Attorney-General, Henry Stanbery, I aided in having his
land restored to him, and I think he is now living there.

Bragg, Beauregard, and Taylor, enacted high parts in the succeeding
war, and now reside in Louisiana or Texas.




CHAPTER VIII.

MISSOURI

APRIL AND MAY, 1861.

During the time of these events in Louisiana, I was in constant
correspondence with my brother, John Sherman, at Washington; Mr.
Ewing, at Lancaster, Ohio; and Major H. S. Turner, at St. Louis.  I
had managed to maintain my family comfortably at Lancaster, but was
extremely anxious about the future.  It looked like the end of my
career, for I did not suppose that "civil war" could give me an
employment that would provide for the family.  I thought, and may
have said, that the national crisis had been brought about by the
politicians, and, as it was upon us, they "might fight it out"
Therefore, when I turned North from New Orleans, I felt more
disposed to look to St. Louis for a home, and to Major.  Turner to
find me employment, than to the public service.

I left New Orleans about the 1st of March, 1861, by rail to Jackson
and Clinton, Mississippi, Jackson, Tennessee, and Columbus,
Kentucky, where we took a boat to Cairo, and thence, by rail, to
Cincinnati and Lancaster.  All the way, I heard, in the cars and
boats, warm discussions about polities; to the effect that, if Mr.
Lincoln should attempt coercion of the seceded States, the other
slave or border States would make common cause, when, it was
believed, it would be madness to attempt to reduce them to
subjection.  In the South, the people were earnest, fierce and
angry, and were evidently organizing for action; whereas, in
Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, I saw not the least sign of
preparation.  It certainly looked to me as though the people of the
North would tamely submit to a disruption of the Union, and the
orators of the South used, openly and constantly, the expressions
that there would be no war, and that a lady's thimble would hold
all the blood to be shed.  On reaching Lancaster, I found letters
from my brother John, inviting me to come to Washington, as he
wanted to see me; and from Major Tamer, at St. Louis, that he was
trying to secure for me the office of president of the Fifth Street
Railroad, with a salary of twenty-five hundred dollars; that Mr.
Lucas and D. A. January held a controlling interest of stock, would
vote for me, and the election would occur in March.  This suited me
exactly, and I answered Turner that I would accept, with thanks.
But I also thought it right and proper that I should first go to
Washington, to talk with my brother, Senator Sherman.

Mr. Lincoln had just been installed, and the newspapers were filled
with rumors of every kind indicative of war; the chief act of
interest was that Major Robert Anderson had taken by night into
Fort Sumter all the troops garrisoning Charleston Harbor, and that
he was determined to defend it against the demands of the State of
South Carolina and of the Confederate States.  I must have reached
Washington about the 10th of March.  I found my brother there, just
appointed Senator, in place of Mr. Chase, who was in the cabinet,
and I have no doubt my opinions, thoughts, and feelings, wrought up
by the events in Louisiana; seemed to him gloomy and extravagant.
About Washington I saw but few signs of preparation, though the
Southern Senators and Representatives were daily sounding their
threats on the floors of Congress, and were publicly withdrawing to
join the Confederate Congress at Montgomery.  Even in the War
Department and about the public offices there was open, unconcealed
talk, amounting to high-treason.

One day, John Sherman took me with him to see Mr. Lincoln.  He
walked into the room where the secretary to the President now sits,
we found the room full of people, and Mr. Lincoln sat at the end of
the table, talking with three or four gentlemen, who soon left.
John walked up, shook hands, and took a chair near him, holding in
his hand some papers referring to, minor appointments in the State
of Ohio, which formed the subject of conversation.  Mr. Lincoln
took the papers, said he would refer them to the proper heads of
departments, and would be glad to make the appointments asked for,
if not already promised.  John then turned to me, and said, "Mr.
President, this is my brother, Colonel Sherman, who is just up from
Louisiana, he may give you some information you want."  "Ah!" said
Mr. Lincoln, "how are they getting along down there?" I said, "They
think they are getting along swimmingly--they are preparing for
war."  "Oh, well!" said he, "I guess we'll manage to keep house."
I was silenced, said no more to him, and we soon left.  I was sadly
disappointed, and remember that I broke out on John, d--ning the
politicians generally, saying, "You have got things in a hell of a
fig, and you may get them out as you best can," adding that the
country was sleeping on a volcano that might burst forth at any
minute, but that I was going to St. Louis to take care of my
family, and would have no more to do with it.  John begged me to be
more patient, but I said I would not; that I had no time to wait,
that I was off for St. Louis; and off I went.  At Lancaster I found
letters from Major Turner, inviting me to St. Louis, as the place
in the Fifth Street Railroad was a sure thing, and that Mr. Lucas
would rent me a good house on Locust Street, suitable for my
family, for six hundred dollars a year.

Mrs. Sherman and I gathered our family and effects together,
started for St. Louis March 27th, where we rented of Mr. Lucas the
house on Locust Street, between Tenth and Eleventh, and occupied it
on the 1st of April.  Charles Ewing and John Hunter had formed a
law-partnership in St. Louis, and agreed to board with us, taking
rooms on the third floor In the latter part of March, I was duly
elected president of the Fifth Street Railroad, and entered on the
discharge of my duties April 1, 1861.  We had a central office on
the corner of Fifth and Locust, and also another up at the stables
in Bremen.  The road was well stocked and in full operation, and
all I had to do was to watch the economical administration of
existing affairs, which I endeavored to do with fidelity and zeal.
But the whole air was full of wars and rumors of wars.  The
struggle was going on politically for the border States.  Even in
Missouri, which was a slave State, it was manifest that the
Governor of the State, Claiborne Jackson, and all the leading
politicians, were for the South in case of a war.  The house on the
northwest corner of Fifth and Pine was the rebel headquarters,
where the rebel flag was hung publicly, and the crowds about the
Planters' House were all more or less rebel.  There was also a camp
in Lindell's Grove, at the end of Olive, Street, under command of
General D. M. Frost, a Northern man, a graduate of West Point, in
open sympathy with the Southern leaders.  This camp was nominally a
State camp of instruction, but, beyond doubt, was in the interest
of the Southern cause, designed to be used against the national
authority in the event of the General Government's attempting to
coerce the Southern Confederacy.  General William S. Harvey was in
command of the Department of Missouri, and resided in his own
house, on Fourth Street, below Market; and there were five or six
companies of United States troops in the arsenal, commanded by
Captain N. Lyon; throughout the city, there had been organized,
almost exclusively out of the German part of the population, four
or five regiments of "Home Guards," with which movement Frank
Blair, B. Gratz Brown, John M. Schofield, Clinton B. Fisk, and
others, were most active on the part of the national authorities.
Frank Blair's brother Montgomery was in the cabinet of Mr. Lincoln
at Washington, and to him seemed committed the general management
of affairs in Missouri.

The newspapers fanned the public excitement to the highest pitch,
and threats of attacking the arsenal on the one hand, and the mob
of d--d rebels in Camp Jackson on the other, were bandied about.  I
tried my best to keep out of the current, and only talked freely
with a few men; among them Colonel John O'Fallon, a wealthy
gentleman who resided above St. Louis.  He daily came down to my
office in Bremen, and we walked up and down the pavement by the
hour, deploring the sad condition of our country, and the seeming
drift toward dissolution and anarchy.  I used also to go down to
the arsenal occasionally to see Lyon, Totten, and other of my army
acquaintance, and was glad to see them making preparations to
defend their post, if not to assume the offensive.

The bombardment of Fort Sumter, which was announced by telegraph,
began April 12th, and ended on the 14th.  We then knew that the war
was actually begun, and though the South was openly, manifestly the
aggressor, yet her friends and apologists insisted that she was
simply acting on a justifiable defensive, and that in the forcible
seizure of, the public forts within her limits the people were
acting with reasonable prudence and foresight.  Yet neither party
seemed willing to invade, or cross the border.  Davis, who ordered
the bombardment of Sumter, knew the temper of his people well, and
foresaw that it would precipitate the action of the border States;
for almost immediately Virginia, North Carolina, Arkansas, and
Tennessee, followed the lead of the cotton States, and conventions
were deliberating in Kentucky and Missouri.

On the night of Saturday, April 6th, I received the following,
dispatch:


Washington,  April 6,1861.

Major W. T. Sherman:

Will you accept the chief clerkship of the War Department? We will
make you assistant Secretary of War when Congress meets.

M. Blair, Postmaster-General.


To which I replied by telegraph, Monday morning; "I cannot accept;"
and by mail as follows:


Monday, April 8, 1861.
Office of the St. Louis Railroad Company.

Hon. M. Blair, Washington, D. C.

I received, about nine o'clock Saturday night, your telegraph
dispatch, which I have this moment answered, "I cannot accept."

I have quite a large family, and when I resigned my place in
Louisiana, on account of secession, I had no time to lose; and,
therefore, after my hasty visit to Washington, where I saw no
chance of employment, I came to St. Louis, have accepted a place in
this company, have rented a house, and incurred other obligations,
so that I am not at liberty to change.

I thank you for the compliment contained in your offer, and assure
you that I wish the Administration all success in its almost
impossible task of governing this distracted and anarchical people.

Yours truly,

W.T. SHERMAN


I was afterward told that this letter gave offense, and that some
of Mr. Lincoln's cabinet concluded that I too would prove false to
the country.

Later in that month, after the capture of Fort Sumter by the
Confederate authorities, a Dr. Cornyn came to our house on Locust
Street, one night after I had gone to bed, and told me he had been
sent by Frank Blair, who was not well, and wanted to see me that
night at his house.  I dressed and walked over to his house on
Washington Avenue, near Fourteenth, and found there, in the
front-room, several gentlemen, among whom I recall Henry T. Blow.
Blair was in the back-room, closeted with some gentleman, who soon
left, and I was called in.  He there told me that the Government
was mistrustful of General Harvey, that a change in the command of
the department was to be made; that he held it in his power to
appoint a brigadier-general, and put him in command of the
department, and he offered me the place.  I told him I had once
offered my services, and they were declined; that I had made
business engagements in St. Louis, which I could not throw off at
pleasure; that I had long deliberated on my course of action, and
must decline his offer, however tempting and complimentary.  He
reasoned with me, but I persisted.  He told me, in that event, he
should appoint Lyon, and he did so.

Finding that even my best friends were uneasy as to my political
status, on the 8th of May I addressed the following official letter
to the Secretary of War:


Office of the St. Louis Railroad Company,
May 8,1881.

Hon. S. Cameron, Secretary of War, Washington, D. C.

Dear Sir: I hold myself now, as always, prepared to serve my
country in the capacity for which I was trained.  I did not and
will not volunteer for three months, because I cannot throw my
family on the cold charity of the world.  But for the three-years
call, made by the President, an officer can prepare his command and
do good service.

I will not volunteer as a soldier, because rightfully or wrongfully
I feel unwilling to take a mere private's place, and, having for
many years lived in California and Louisiana, the men are not well
enough acquainted with me to elect me to my appropriate place.

Should my services be needed, the records of the War Department
will enable you to designate the station in which I can render most
service.

Yours truly,   W. T. SHERMAN.


To this I do not think I received a direct answer; but, on the 10th
of the same month, I was appointed colonel of the Thirteenth
Regular Infantry.

I remember going to the arsenal on the 9th of May, taking my
children with me in the street-cars.  Within the arsenal wall were
drawn up in parallel lines four regiments of the "Home Guards," and
I saw men distributing cartridges to the boxes.  I also saw General
Lyon running about with his hair in the wind, his pockets full of
papers, wild and irregular, but I knew him to be a man of vehement
purpose and of determined action.  I saw of course that it meant
business, but whether for defense or offense I did not know.  The
next morning I went up to the railroad-office in Bremen, as usual,
and heard at every corner of the streets that the "Dutch" were
moving on Camp Jackson.  People were barricading their houses, and
men were running in that direction.  I hurried through my business
as quickly as I could, and got back to my house on Locust Street by
twelve o'clock.  Charles Ewing and Hunter were there, and insisted
on going out to the camp to see "the fun."  I tried to dissuade
them, saying that in case of conflict the bystanders were more
likely to be killed than the men engaged, but they would go.  I
felt as much interest as anybody else, but staid at home, took my
little son Willie, who was about seven years old, and walked up and
down the pavement in front of our house, listening for the sound of
musketry or cannon in the direction of Camp Jackson.  While so
engaged Miss Eliza Dean, who lived opposite us, called me across
the street, told me that her brother-in-law, Dr. Scott, was a
surgeon in Frost's camp, and she was dreadfully afraid he would be
killed.  I reasoned with her that General Lyon was a regular
officer; that if he had gone out, as reported, to Camp Jackson, he
would take with him such a force as would make resistance
impossible; but she would not be comforted, saying that the camp
was made up of the young men from the first and best families of
St. Louis, and that they were proud, and would fight.  I explained
that young men of the best families did not like to be killed
better than ordinary people.  Edging gradually up the street, I was
in Olive Street just about Twelfth, when I saw a man running from
the direction of Camp Jackson at full speed, calling, as he went,
"They've surrendered, they've surrendered!" So I turned back and
rang the bell at Mrs. Dean's.  Eliza came to the door, and I
explained what I had heard; but she angrily slammed the door in my
face!  Evidently she was disappointed to find she was mistaken in
her estimate of the rash courage of the best families.

I again turned in the direction of Camp Jackson, my boy Willie with
me still.  At the head of Olive Street, abreast of Lindell's Grove,
I found Frank Blair's regiment in the street, with ranks opened,
and the Camp Jackson prisoners inside.  A crowd of people was
gathered around, calling to the prisoners by name, some hurrahing
for Jeff Davis, and others encouraging the troops.  Men, women, and
children, were in the crowd.  I passed along till I found myself
inside the grove, where I met Charles Ewing and John Hunter, and we
stood looking at the troops on the road, heading toward the city.
A band of music was playing at the head, and the column made one or
two ineffectual starts, but for some reason was halted.  The
battalion of regulars was abreast of me, of which Major Rufus
Saxton was in command, and I gave him an evening paper, which I had
bought of the newsboy on my way out.  He was reading from it some
piece of news, sitting on his horse, when the column again began to
move forward, and he resumed his place at the head of his command.
At that part of the road, or street, was an embankment about eight
feet high, and a drunken fellow tried to pass over it to the people
opposite.

One of the regular sergeant file-closers ordered him back, but he
attempted to pass through the ranks, when the sergeant barred his
progress with his musket "a-port."  The drunken man seized his
musket, when the sergeant threw him off with violence, and he
rolled over and over down the bank.  By the time this man had
picked himself up and got his hat, which had fallen off, and had
again mounted the embankment, the regulars had passed, and the head
of Osterhaus's regiment of Home Guards had come up.  The man had in
his hand a small pistol, which he fired off, and I heard that the
ball had struck the leg of one of Osterhaus's staff; the regiment
stopped; there was a moment of confusion, when the soldiers of that
regiment began to fire over our heads in the grove.  I heard the
balls cutting the leaves above our heads, and saw several men and
women running in all directions, some of whom were wounded.  Of
course there was a general stampede.  Charles Ewing threw Willie on
the ground and covered him with his body.  Hunter ran behind the
hill, and I also threw myself on the ground.  The fire ran back
from the head of the regiment toward its rear, and as I saw the men
reloading their pieces, I jerked Willie up, ran back with him into
a gully which covered us, lay there until I saw that the fire had
ceased, and that the column was again moving on, when I took up
Willie and started back for home round by way of Market Street.  A
woman and child were killed outright; two or three men were also
killed, and several others were wounded.  The great mass of the
people on that occasion were simply curious spectators, though men
were sprinkled through the crowd calling out, "Hurrah for Jeff
Davis!" and others were particularly abusive of the "damned Dutch"
Lyon posted a guard in charge of the vacant camp, and marched his
prisoners down to the arsenal; some were paroled, and others held,
till afterward they were regularly exchanged.

A very few days after this event, May 14th, I received a dispatch
from my brother Charles in Washington, telling me to come on at
once; that I had been appointed a colonel of the Thirteenth Regular
Infantry, and that I was wanted at Washington immediately.

Of course I could no longer defer action.  I saw Mr. Lucas, Major
Turner, and other friends and parties connected with the road, who
agreed that I should go on.  I left my family, because I was under
the impression that I would be allowed to enlist my own regiment,
which would take some time, and I expected to raise the regiment
and organize it at Jefferson Barracks.  I repaired to Washington,
and there found that the Government was trying to rise to a level
with the occasion.  Mr. Lincoln had, without the sanction of law,
authorized the raising of ten new regiments of regulars, each
infantry regiment to be composed of three battalions of eight
companies each; and had called for seventy-five thousand State
volunteers.  Even this call seemed to me utterly inadequate; still
it was none of my business.  I took the oath of office, and was
furnished with a list of officers, appointed to my regiment, which
was still, incomplete.  I reported in person to General Scott, at
his office on Seventeenth Street, opposite the War Department, and
applied for authority to return West, and raise my regiment at
Jefferson Barracks, but the general said my lieutenant-colonel,
Burbank, was fully qualified to superintend the enlistment, and
that he wanted me there; and he at once dictated an order for me to
report to him in person for inspection duty.

Satisfied that I would not be permitted to return to St. Louis, I
instructed Mrs. Sherman to pack up, return to Lancaster, and trust
to the fate of war.

I also resigned my place as president of the Fifth Street Railroad,
to take effect at the end of May, so that in fact I received pay
from that road for only two months' service, and then began my new
army career.












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