Sacramento daily record-union., 1890-07-21
THE CID BOYS.
CHANGES AT FRENCH CORRAL SINCE
THE DAYS OF GOLD.
Old Nan MacDougan and His Fighting
Fyogs-superstitious Miners-The
Chinaman Harvest of To-day.

Chinaman Harvest of To-day.
French Corral is not what it was in 1870.
Where is not SO much hilarity. gambling,
drinking, fighting, toiling, love-making and
marrying done here now, and the glory of
the place has departed. Even the whisky,
which was bad enough twenty years ago,
is considerably worse, and the end, l am
told, is not yet. Johnny Bolton, who was
the best wrestler in Nevada county in the
days of old, and whose last request was
that he should be buried in standing DO
sition on the hill over the town; George
Carroll, who was the best poker player in
the State in 1852, and who ALWAYS had
few twenty dollar pieces in the shabbiest
of trousers; old man Trip, who weighed
only l50 pounds, and could whip any man
in rough. .and-tumble fight; Grandpa
Helm, who was fond of suckers Hughey
McTurk, who generally spent his nights
shooting with musket at an imaginary
ghost; Jimmy Porman, who was the
best rifle shot that ever lived, accord
ing to his own story-sll of those
old boys who were in the habit of filing
themselves up with quaint, spicy and
froilcsome humor at the humor factory,
and then retailing it out in the "wee sma'
hours anent the twal," have passed over
the silent river that flows to the shadowy
land, and their bones lie under the pines
and oaks in the little church. yard below
Father Kuhlmans orchard.
French Corral of to-day is not the French
,f \
past Its glory has departed, but the hills
and dells, the sunlight and shadow, echoes
and memories of the place are still the same.
The old generation that saw it in its
palmy days has nearly gone, and only a
few remain to mourn for the days of gold,
when there were no signs of a slow but
sure decadenoe. Their sons and daughters
are scattered. too. They are in Montana,
Idaho, South America, Africa, China, Eng.
land-everywhere. Only one or two of the
boys who were born in French Corral
twenty or thirty years ago are now here.
They became tired of the almost Puritan
quietness and wandered away. From such
departures are evolved the saddest stories
OF our lives, and French Corral, once filled
with only the sternest of stirring realities,
is now filled with an air of regret, longing
and unfulfilled expectancy.
The boys and girls are gone-the sons
and daughters have deserted the old home
nest, and the white-headed old folks who
sit IN the summer shadows and wait, with
their tired eyes seeing nothing of the pres
ent, will wait in vain. The wanderers will
not come back.
French Corral, with its quiet and its
peace, is nothing to them now. They have
homes of their own in other lands, and
long years of absence have caused them to
hot ha oc
father grows old so does it long for the
idols of its youth.
But that is human nature"
As sit here, in the shadow of a gnarled
and twisted evergreen oak, with all the
dull, dreary little town below me, and the
faint hnkle OF a piano mingling with the
soft whisperings of the wind, fancy can
see the old-time life and activity which was
so familiar to me fifteen years ago. But
French Corral will never again be as it
then was, and am sorry for it.
Writing of the old boys of French Corral
reminds me of one of those queer charac-
ters that once figured conspicuously on the
1uba river more than ten years ago Old
man MacDougall was an old man already
when first met him. He lived in a little
shanty on the river, with dog as his only
companion, and 1t was upon the blear-eyed,. :.
NANCY cur, with his snarling, sneaky traits
as prominent as bis teeth, that all the Mac
Dougall affection was wasted | saw
wasted, because the dog was an ungrateful
whelp, and bit his master without due and
just .provocation several times. But old
Mac bound up the wounds, whaled the dog
with shovel, and loved him as ardently
as before. Why he persisted in loving a
contemplate, treacherous cur that knew
no religion but hypocrisy and had no more
than q ~ nd ,e hax,
conjecture. Those who knew him init
mately, and they were not many, believed
that the old man was not exactly
right in his head. This supposition
was not without some foundation, for
he was possessed of many queer
superstitions. He believed that in the
end of the tail of every dog was a worm
which could be extracted only by grasping
the last joint of the tail and pulling it off
by sheer strengtt and that this operation
forever prevented hydrophobia. lie also
believed that jewsharp would invariably
stop any watch, and that a barmonica
would always attract rattlesnakes, scorp-
ions, hornets, and all poisonous insects,
and he never ate new bread without having
first made cross with piece of charcoal
on the bottom.
The only amusement in which MacDou-
gall was ever known to indulge was frog
fighting. In two springs near his cabin he
kept two huge frogs one in each spring,
and when he hankered for q little desul-
tory relaxation from the cares of life he up
set his rocker, threw his tools into the
mud, and collecting his frogs. placed them
in damp pit he had constructed, and, in
some unexplained way, caused them to
fight.
l watched one of those duels once, aud
it was really amusing. A frog has no teeth,
and when he takes hold Of ANYTHING se
can only gum it, as old men say The
frogs were fine, healthy, athletic fellows,
and evidently aware of the fact. They
were quite envious, too, and if they had
been possessed of any natural weapons of
defense their battles would have been
bloody ones. As il was they ALWAYS
gummed, and gummed, and gummed, un-
til their gumption was exhausted, and then
Mac would carry them bsck to their homes
and Immediately relapse into bis usual
state OF morose taciturnity. do not know
what became of MscDougall. He disap-
peared one day, and never was heard of,
and his dog was also gone.
Apropos of superstitions, I remember
that in Cherokee, Butte county, there once
stood large clearinghouse, which was
owned by Portuguese miners. They were
superstitious men, and when some one of
the boarders asserted that the devil paid
nightly visits to the house the owners be-
lieved it. First they pulled the sides of
the house down, in order to give his Sa-
tanic Majesty free ingress and egress. Then
somebody told them that the old serpent
always few straight up when taking fight,
and they straightway tore of the roof.
Now they are living happily, / suppose. 1t
looks as though they should, for there is
nothing but the cellar to obstruct the devil
in his nocturnal rambles.
Primitive methods are not yet entirely
abolished in California. There are some
places wherein modern science has not yet
made the second stride, and the means and
methods in use half century ago are still
employed.
A few days ago had occasion to go FROM
French Corral to Moonshine, deserted
camp sixteen miles away. across the Mid
die Ynba. and as the nearest route was
rough trail, went on foot. At Rice's
Crossing was ferried over the river by
ChiDsman, who is the sole owner, editor.
publisher, reporter, printer and printers
devil of the ferry. The ferry is q wire
cable, fastened TO q tree on each side of the
river, with one end great deal higher
than the ether and a delightful and ex-
hilarating sag in the middle. where the
passenger may pause. like spider over a
canal, aud mediate over the uncertainties
M a IL 4 -. r n 4