The Republican journal., 1881-03-17
joaquin Millers Sketches of the Old
Callfornians.


mighty men OF power and renewn. Bible.
The towards did not start to the Pacific
coast in the old days: all the weak died
on the way. And 50 it was that we had
then not only a race Of giants, but OF
gods. 1t is to be allowed that they were
not at all careful of the laws, either
ancient or modern, ecclesiastical or lay.
They would curse. They would fight
like dogs-aye, like Christians in battle.
But there was more solid honor among
those men than the world will ever see
again in any body Of men, fear, till it
approaches the millennium. Is it dying
out with theme | hear that the new
Californians are rather common cattle.
Do you know where the real old
Californian is ?-the giant, the world
buildere He is sitting by the high trail
up on the mountain. His eyes are dim,
and his head is white. His sleeves are
lowered. His pick and shovel are at his
side. His feet are weary and sore. He
is still prospecting. Pretty soon he will
sink bis last prospect hole in the Sierra.
Some younger men will come along and
lengthen it out a little, and lay him in
his grave. The old miner will have pass
ed on to prospect the outcroppings that
star the floors Of heaven.
He is not numerous now but | saw
him last summer high up on the head
waters Of the Sacramento His face is
set forever away from the civilization
which has passed by him. He is called
a tramp now. And the new, nice people
who have slid over the plains in Il palace
car, and settled down there set dogs on
him sometimes when he comes that way.
| charge you treat the old Californian
well, wherever you find him. He has
seen more, suffered more. practlced
more self-denial, than can now fall to the
there in the pines on the mighty noun
tain, While still freely searching for the
golden fleece, do not forget that his life
is an epic, noble as any handed down
from out the dusty ED. | implore you
treat him kindly. Some day a fitting
poet will come, and then he will take his
place among the heroes and the gods.
But there is another old Californian, a
wearier man, the successful one He too,
is getting gray But he is a power in the
land. He is a prince in fact and act
What strange fate was it that threw dust
in the eyes OF the old Californian, sitting
10y the trail high up on the mountain,
and blinded him SO that ne could not see
the gold just within his grasp, quarter
of a century ago? And what good fairy
was it that lead this old Californian now
the banker, the railroad king, or Senator,
to where the mountain gnomes had hid
den their gold Of old ? What accidental
beggars and princes we have in the world
day. But whether beggar or prince,
the old Californian stands a head and
shoulder taller than his fellows wherever
you may find him. This is solid, granite
truth.
\ few years ago steamer drew into
the Bay of Naples with lot of passen-
gers, among whom were small party OF
Americans. The night had been rough
and the ship was behind time. 1t was
ten o'clock already, and no breakfast.
The stingy captain had resolved to
economic. A stout, quiet man, with
a stout hickory stick, went to the captain
and begged for little coffee, at least for
the ladies. The captain turned his back,
tiuttered his coat tails in the face Of the
stout, quiet man, and walked up on deck
respectfully begged for something for the
ladies, who were faint with hunger. Then
the captain turned and threatened to
put him in irons, at the same time calling
his officers around him.
The stout man with the stout stick
very quietly proceeded to thrash the
captain. He thrashed him till he could
not stand and thrashed every officer
that dared to show his face, as well as
half the crew. Then he went down and
made the cook get breakfast.
This man was an old Californian,
''Daye Cotton" as we used to call him
up at Yreka.
OF course, an act like that was punish
able with death almost. ''Pracy OF the
seas and all that sort Of offence was
charged; and | know not how much gold
it cost to heal the wounded head, and
also the dignity of the captain Of the
ship. But this Californian neither knew
the law nor cared for the law. He had a
little party Of ladies with him, and be
would not see tlem 60 hungry. He
would have that coffee if it cost him his
head.
Dear Dave Cotton | hear he is dead
now. We first got acquainted one night
at lreka while shooting at each other.
And what a fearful shooting affair that
was. Many a grizzlys old miner of the
north still remembers it all wildly, al
though 1t took place more than a quarter
OF century ago. 1t would make the
most thrilling chapter of romance, OF
the final act of tragedy.
To crowd Ubo1a hoo1y brioH,r inn, -
few words, the Ireka miners insSed or
using all the water in Greenhorn over tt
Yreka Flats. The Greenhorn miners
about five hundred strong, held meet
ing and demonstrated with the miners OF
1reka, who numbered about five thous
and. But they were only laughed at
So, on the 23d day Of February, 1855
they threw themselves into body, anC
marching down to man., they tore ou1
the dam and sent the water on in it
natural channel | say to man, and
| might add, to a boy. For |, the only
boy on Greenhorn, although quietly
officiating as cook in the cabin of a party
OF miners from Oregon, was ordered t(
shoulder a pick handle by the redheade(
leader, Bill Fox, and fall in line.
ought to admit, perhaps, that | gladly
obeyed, for it tlattered me to be treated
as if | were man, even by the red d-head
ed Irish bully and desperate.
l remember that on the march to the
dam, the quiet, peace loving men o
Quaker proclivities were found still al
work. On their declining to join us, Fo,
ordered his men to seize them and beal
them along in front, so that they should
be the first exposed to the bullets O
Ireka.
Had the mob dispersed after destroy
ing the dam, no blood would had beer
shed. But unfortunately the Wheeler
brothers rolled out barrel of whiskey
and, knocking in the head, hung the
barrel with tin cups, and told the boys
to "pitch in." A fool could have foresee1
the result.
Some worthless fellows got drunk anG
went to Yreka, boasting of their work o
destruction. They were arrested by
| Dave COltOn then sharitf of Sickivnr