cts to the mines. They were made welcome, and in turn
furnished us news of the outer world, and distributed worn copies of
American and foreign newspapers, which our hungry-minded pioneers read
and re-read so long as the lines held together.

Those light-hearted newcomers, who danced and gayly sang,

O Susannah, don't you cry for me!
I'm bound to Californy with a tin pan on my knee,

were the first we saw of that vast throng of gold-seekers, who flocked to
our shores within a twelvemonth, and who have since become idealized in
song and story as the "Argonauts," "the Boys of '49."

They were unlike either our pioneer or our soldier friends in style of
dress and manner. Nor had they come to build homes or develop the
country. They wanted gold to carry back to other lands. Some had
expected to find it near the Bay of San Francisco; some, to scoop it up
out of the river beds that crossed the valleys; and others, to shovel
it from ravines and mountain-sides. When told of the difficulties
before them, their impatience grew to be off, that they might prove to
Western plodders what could be done by Eastern pluck and muscle.

Such packing as those men did! Mother's Bible, and wife and baby's
daguerreotype not infrequently started to the mines in the coffee pot,
or in the miner's boots, hanging across the mule's pack. The
sweetheart's lock of hair, affectionately concealed beneath the hat
lining of its faithful wearer, caught the scent of the old clay pipe
stuck in the hat-band.

With the opening season all available Indians of both sexes were hired
as gold-diggers, and trudged along behind their employers, and our
town was again reduced to a settlement of white women and children. But
what a difference in the feeling of our people! We now heard regularly
from the Bay City, and entertained transients from nearly every part of
the globe; and these would loan us books and newspapers, and frequently
store unnecessary possessions with us until they should return from the
mines.

San Francisco had a regular post office. One day its postmaster
forwarded a letter, addressed to ex-Governor Boggs, which the latter
brought out and read to grandma. She did not, as usual, put her head
out of the window and call us, but came from the house wiping her eyes,
and asked if we wanted to be put in a big ship and sent away from her
and grandma and Jakie.

Greatly alarmed, we exclaimed, "No, no, grandma, no!"

Taking us by the