Chapter XXI

ADVICE TO EMIGRANTS--GOLD COUNTRIES--SELF-DOCTORING--ADVICE
CONTINUED--I ARRIVE AT STOCKTON.

_January, 1852._

We know that the militia of the United States is very numerous, inasmuch as it consists of every man capable of bearing arms; but it certainly would appear that all the officers have emigrated to California, so universal are the military titles there. Now as I proceed to Stockton I meet here and there old mining acquaintances working at the gulches that I have to cross. I am startled by a voice from a deep hole with, “How are you, Captain?” (I rank as Captain in California, being _nothing_; if I was a real Captain I should of course be a General there). I turn then and at once recognise a familiar face, spite of the mud with which it is plastered. “Ah, Colonel,” I reply, “what luck? How does the gulch pay?” “Pison bad,” replies the soldier, and as I depart he shouts, “You’ll see the judge at Cock-a-doodle Creek, and the Major with him, working on shares, and they’re the two meanest,”--the rest is lost to me, as the Colonel again disappears in his subterranean coyote digging.

Further on I encounter the Judge and Major at work at a “long tom” and “How are you, Captain?” I am asked again. “Did you see the Colonel?” says the Judge, I answer in the affirmative. “He’s considerable of a snake,” says the Major. “He’s nothing shorter,” adds the Judge. “He’s small potatoes[25] any how,” remarks the Major. I back these opinions being out of shot of the Colonel’s revolver. “Will you trade that horse?” asks the Judge. “He’s not for sale,” I answer, and ride off. He was for sale though, but not to carry gravel from the hill side for Judges and Majors to make money from, whilst the “Old Soldier” picked a scanty subsistence from the brushwood on the mountains. When I leave these worthies behind me, I have seen the last of the diggings.

I have written favourably, it will be perceived, as regards the reward held out by the gold-fields of California, to those who _having arrived there_ have seized properly the advantages that surrounded them, and I have no hesitation in saying, that to the industrious, healthy, and temperate man, a comfortable livelihood is certain; beyond this much will depend upon his energy and ability, and as regards grand results, I may add _speculative feeling_. I find it impossible to place in proper shape any remarks that could be adapted to the intending emigrant, but I will attempt to lay down a few broad facts that will apply equally to all gold countries.

It has appeared to me that a great number of those who fail, must attribute their ill success to not having previous to starting laid down the course they intended to pursue.

The emigrant, of whatever class, should have something definite in view; for, like a ship of discovery, he has before him, as it were, an unnavigated sea, and unknown rocks and shoals will cause him often to deviate from his track, but it should be only to return by a circuitous route to the prosecution of his journey. But if he leaves home on the broad principle of “trying his luck,” he will not only be the easier cast down by adverse circumstances, but he will stand the least chance of any of becoming eventually successful. The truth of this was exemplified in the case of the English officers whom I found watering cabbages at Napa; they had not even decided then what they should do, or how they should turn their ability to account.

It is a great drawback to the labouring emigrant to a gold country that he generally lands without capital and is obliged at once to work, where and how he may. This, however, may be said to him--that Californian experience shows that, in the long run, the man does best who, having prudently amassed some money at the diggings, turns his capital and abilities to the channel into which they were originally directed at home: thus, if he has been an agricultural labourer, let him farm so soon as he has saved something; if a tailor, let him turn back to the mining city, with his nuggets in his pockets, and there set up in trade: for the diggings will be replenished by new comers, and high prices, whether for potatoes or trowsers, will still (unless peculiarly affected by over-shipment) be maintained in a fair proportion to the yield of gold; and it stands to reason that, if all labour in the diggings is compensated proportionately with that of the digger, it is better for a working man to labour at the trade he understands. The uncertainty of the miner’s life is thus avoided, and if the profits are sometimes smaller, that is more than compensated for by regularity; for it is an extraordinary fact that, let the diggings fall off as they will, the miners will still require _bread_ and _breeches_, and will find the money to pay for them.

When gold-fields are first discovered the profits of professional labour are proportionately great with the rate of wages, and it would appear, at the first glance, that a fine field was opened at these times for the emigration of professional young men; but I find that those occupations which combine at first large profits with comparatively easy labour, have soon so many aspirants that the markets become glutted, and the large profits are short-lived. Thus, in California the proportion of lawyers is very great, and it would be a sad thing for that country if every legal man there could live by his profession. Therefore it would seem that a man of education should more than all shape his course before he starts; and I think it would be wise for every emigrant, let his ability be what it may, to consider what he is fit for, to _fall back upon_ in event of his finding his profession profitless.

It is requisite for an emigrant of superior class that he should possess at least three qualifications independent of his abilities; viz., a small amount of capital, a good constitution, and an absence of all pride but that which nerves a man to accomplish all that he undertakes honestly, be it what it may! Such a man is an acquisition to a colony, and if his fortunes are adverse he is an exception to the rule.

The reader may observe that my own failures scarcely bear out this remark, and this is true; but my efforts were of an experimental nature, and, as I observed elsewhere, Fortune has ever snubbed me, but the jade does it so gently that I forgive her.

The emigrating reader may try farming, house-building, or quartz-mining with perfect security for all that bears upon the case in my experience, unless indeed my narrative serves to point out to him the folly of embarking in what one does not understand; and I would rather, if he pleases, attribute my failures to that cause, for I thereby bring to his notice a golden rule he can never keep too much in view. But this much is borne out by the histories of California and Australia, that gold countries increase permanently in wealth and prosperity; therefore the emigrant need not be downcast by present misfortune, he has but still to strive, and, in common with all, he will reap eventually the fruits of the great blessings which the Creator has been pleased to shower on these lands. He needs no better assurance than that he carries health, industry, and patience to a colony that is in a state of rapidly progressing improvement; and if, in those countries he may visit, as much care has been taken as in California to provide hospitals for the sick, and asylums for the destitute, _free of charge_, why he may land, if it so happens, shattered in mind and body, and be yet turned out a good man and true, to aid by his pickaxe or his plough the general prosperity of the state that provides with so much forethought for the casualties that may beset him.

Something has been said already, and with good purpose, to aid the emigrant in preserving his health under the influence of a new climate, and I will introduce a few remarks that have resulted from my own experience, which has not been confined entirely to the adventures herein related.

I would strongly advise every man to wear flannel or woven stuff next his skin, and let him never remove that which encases the upper part of the body but of a morning, when he bathes himself from head to foot; flannel on the chest and abdomen is more requisite perhaps by night than by day to those who are subjected to exposures.

Dispense with what is termed a medicine-chest, but which is, generally speaking, a box of rubbish, and even if well fitted is a dangerous thing to have by you.

Certain merchant vessels, which do not carry “an experienced surgeon,” are supplied with medicine-chests and an accompanying book of reference. It is related that one tarry fellow once applied to his captain for relief; his complaint was “that he had something on his stomach.” Under these circumstances the skipper turned over his pharmacopœia, and at once prescribed two teaspoonfuls of No. 15 (the drugs being numerically arranged); on an inspection of the “chest” it was found that No. 15 had “given out,” and for the moment it seemed that Jack was likely to die from want of medical assistance; but the skipper had a forethought. There was plenty of No. 8--plenty of No. 7; seven and eight make fifteen, says the captain, and Jack, to whom this calculation seemed quite natural, took two teaspoonfuls of the joint mixture, and with so much benefit as this, that whatever _was_ “on his stomach” came up with a rapidity that would have astonished the Royal College of Surgeons. Although the intelligent emigrant would not make so great a blunder as this, he might make a greater, and kill himself, even whilst strictly following out his medicine book. For self-doctoring becomes a mania, and, as with some men, you must keep the bottle away if you would have them sober, so with others, you must deprive them of calomel and opium if you would have them healthy. I have met many infatuated fellows, who, on the first symptom of fever, have salivated themselves, from an inherent faith in the efficacy of mercury; and to see a man in the rainy season in a canvass tent, lying on a damp floor and in damp blankets, bolting calomel pills, is a sight that soon becomes very sad, and yet is very common. American emigrants are very prone to carry with them a preparation of mercury, called “blue mass;” fortunately for them there is more clay and rubbish than anything else in the composition. I shall carry with me, when I next start for a region where doctors are not, half a gallon of castor-oil in a tin bottle, a few trifles for the cure of wounds, mustard, and _quinine_; if the emigrant can afford it, this latter should always form part of his stock.

As regards castor-oil, I can only say that it was the sole medicine I took when attacked by malignant yellow fever, and that I was the only survivor of the passengers of the steamer “Dee” that were attacked.

When first arrived at his new home the emigrant should avoid exposure to the mid-day sun, or night air; but if he be a digger in the gold-fields, let him make this rule, that so soon as he feels the first symptom of illness, he will _lay by_ for twenty-four hours. Premonitory fever can be arrested very easily by rest and quiet, but in nearly every instance it is aggravated to a dangerous pitch, by a feeling of pride that will not allow a man to surrender; and the fear of the jeers of his healthier companions will often cause a man to continue work, when prudence would dictate an opposite course. When headache and sickness attack you, _then_ you may give in. A dose of medicine and a little rest will restore you, and shortly you will become acclimated; but if you fight against feverish symptoms, you may recover, but will probably be a wreck for life. There is an inclination to bathe when fever first appears; avoid that. I became very ill from bathing in the Chagres river one evening, to relieve, as I thought, the headache consequent on exposure to the heat, and Barnes nearly succumbed to a fever produced by the same cause; and although they are not mentioned in this narrative in their proper places, several cases of intermittent fever have from time to time appeared among my party, otherwise I should not presume to lay down any rule for the guidance of others; nor would I now, but that I have seen so many lose their lives from a want of the most ordinary precaution. I would advise the emigrant to the gold-fields to encumber himself as little as possible with what is called an “outfit.” Flannel clothing, thick socks, and the best highlows that can be made for money, he should select with care. Let him take also good blankets. There is no better protection for a man in wet seasons than a blanket with a hole cut in the middle for his head to come through: the body is free, the perspiration is unconfined, and you can’t wear the blanket out. India-rubber I cannot recommend; it is, I believe, more productive of ague than anything else, for it confines the perspiration, and subjects the wearer to a sudden check, when it is removed. An India-rubber counter-pane is useful, but should be placed over, not under, for it absorbs the moisture at all seasons, and makes a point of sending the rheumatism into your back if you lie on it.[26] An India-rubber cap, with a curtain to protect the neck, is very useful in rainy weather, but should be lined with flannel or felt. (See sketch on page 95.) If you intend to dig, have one or two pickaxes and crowbars made under your own supervision; exported tools are too often made of very inferior iron, and it is money well spent to pay something over the market price for a pickaxe that won’t turn its nose up at you the instant you drive it into the hill-side.

After one of the San Francisco fires an intelligent blacksmith bought up a quantity of “burnt-out” gun-barrels; these were filled up to give weight, and the breach of each was fashioned to the shape of a crowbar. These instruments sold very well, but if ever there is a calendar of saints in California, that enterprising blacksmith will not be one of them! or if he is, he will have been sworn at more than a saint by right should be.

I have said all that occurs to me would be of service to the emigrant: it is little enough, and may have been said before; but if it only corroborates the experience of others, it answers fully the end I have in view. And I have no hesitation in submitting these remarks, for the great advantage of one man falling into a pit is that he can show thousands how to avoid it. I have plunged headlong into many such holes, and as I would myself avoid them for the future, so I would that others should. And although in the form that this is published it will not probably meet the eye of the poor man, still if those who through the journals they conduct so bravely cheer and assist the emigrant, see anything in these remarks that may save him from unnecessary expense or sickness, they will, I know, too gladly in their own way extend the aid which I intend. Above all, I would that the emigrant who has a little money should be impressed with the necessity of carrying as much of his fund out with him as he can. The best ten pounds a poor man can spend is that which enables him on his arrival in a new country to look about him for a day or two before he begins his work.

When I arrived at Stockton, I found the streets of that city so cut up by the traffic of the winter, that in many parts of the public thoroughfare there were mud holes that it was necessary to avoid. The spectators on the pathway became quite interested as I plunged through the main street on the Old Soldier, and one would have thought that I was a steamboat on the point of explosion by the crowd that followed my movements. I was already deep over my saddle-girths, but the Old Soldier, maddened by the jeers of the inhabitants, made short work of it, and landed at last, “blown,” on comparatively dry ground. It appeared afterwards that I had entered Stockton by a street that had for the last month been considered impassable, and was so to any but a high-couraged animal; but as the Old Soldier’s feet were nearly as large as soup-plates, he had an advantage over most beasts in getting through dirt.

I slept that night in a Stockton Hotel, and waking at dawn, I started out of bed and raised a shout; it was but the force of habit; but although the Tuttle-tonian pigs were nearly a degree of longitude away, I had mechanically armed myself with the water-jug before I remembered the fact.

The next morning I started for San Francisco in a very small steamboat, and seeing the San Joaquin river for the first time by daylight, I observed that it was very ugly; it only required alligators to make it perfect in this respect. There was but one wheel to our boat, and that was astern, and as the accommodation part of the vessel was built to a great height, it was something like a small wheelbarrow with a large trunk on it, going the wrong way. We passed Benicia with a fair tide, and after stemming a stiff breeze, of which the Old Soldier got the full benefit, as he was in the stem of the boat, and formed a temporary figure-head, we arrived at San Francisco about dusk. I was fortunate in getting a kind master for the old horse, and I have seen him since, fatter than ever he was with me, carrying vegetables about the town with no more pride than if he was a common animal.