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Sacramento Novr 29th 1851

My Dear Parents

Nearly a month has now elapsed since we had a mail from the States and it begins to be generally concluded that the Steamer Falcon (which was ten days past due at Panama as the last account) has met with some serious disaster. The loss of the mail is a great calamity here, as almost every individual in the State has a direct interest in it. For my own part, I feel as though I had lost a large share in a common treasure, and might go at once into mourning, if that would avail anything. Not having faith, however, - not "even as a grain of mustard seed" - in doleful lamentations, I think the best course is to dismiss all thoughts of my loss, take up Peter Simple's consolatory maxim and cheerfully hope for "better luck next time". I have received nothing from the "Cottage" since I last wrote you, but taking it for granted that the missing Steamer bore for me a letter from there, I consider myself as much bounden to reply, as though I had actually received and read it. But I am sorry that the material for an interesting letter is so scarce that I fear you will not feel very much indebted for my efforts.

This is the last evening of Thanksgiving week, -- for be it known, the restless Yankees in this State, stirred up our Hoosier Governor, to issue a regular Plymouth proclamation, setting apart Thursday 27th as a day for every body who chose and had time, to be thankful. There was nothing preemptory in it however, and it contained no sanction as some people call it - that is, no provision for making people obey it. So each and every man did as he pleased about being 



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thankful; and so far as I could judge from public demonstrations, it was the smallest number in the world who felt at all grateful. The church bell Rung according to notice at eleven o'clock and I would gladly have listened to Mr. Benton's Thanksgiving Sermon but my elbow had made a hole in my coat, and therefore I couldn't come. Something had been said by editors about the propriety of having the merchants and others suspend public business during time of the services. Passing along the street I looked to see if this suggestion was heeded; but I sought in vain for a single closed door, or the slightest cessation in business. In truth, I feel confident I never saw business quite so brisk as it was that morning. The streets were literally crammed with teams and the side walks swarming with traders. Reaching the Lion I found about a hundred drays hauling away the cargoes of two steamboats just unloaded, and one thousand and one individuals standing on the bank to witness the starting of the two steamboats on a race for San Francisco. The great New England festival was nowhere. Nobody thought of it, or if they did, nobody cared. "How shall I make my pile". This, the great, overshadowing thought of California was and is, too important and engrossing to be, for a morning, laid aside for any minor consideration. This is all I can say about our Thanksgiving. If there was any one at church, I have not heard of it; if there was a Thanksgiving Dinner in the City, I have yet to hear of it, and if any body now bears in mind the fact that this is the last evening of the Festival, that individual must be writing this letter.

I should like very much to know how it passed off in Missouri, for I suppose she still adheres to the commendable practice of keeping the day.



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I saw today for the first time in about twelve months, the two young Messrs Glasscock from the neighborhood of Mr. Fleurry's. They have been in the mines and have also been engaged in trading. I suspect they have been pretty successful, but they were on the point of leaving for San Francisco and I conversed with them but a few moments. One of them is on his way home, expecting to return again next season with a herd of stock. Such a speculation will prove very profitable if it be not overdone as I think it will be from present appearances. Hundreds of men are now returning for this same purpose -and I fear the result will be another swarm of cattle upon the Plains that will be likely to bring heavy losses upon their owners. But they must judge wisely next spring, and be governed by the circumstances which then arise.

If there are many emigrants upon the road next season, as present appearances indicate will be the case I fear there will be trouble and bloodshed by the Indians. A gentleman who brought in his family this season travelled with a party of 14 horsemen, who pushed on in advance of him, near Fort Hall, and during the same day were attacked by the Indians and lost eight of their number.  This gentleman with his family, was then encamped alone, ten miles in the rear. One of the survivors [of the] horsemen, reached his camp at night fall and put him on his guard - thus saving probably the lives of all his family. The next day a large train came up which they joined, and come through in safety. With constant care and sleepless vigilance the emigration will probably suffer but little; but the freedom from annoyance which the emigrants of 1850 enjoyed, will lull hundreds to sleep, and they will surely suffer greatly. Every man should be well armed and constantly on the alert and the danger will then be comparatively trifling. But as a general rule, the Indians will grow more hostile than peaceful, year by year. 


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Now for a change of subject. I have a short chapter on genealogies. Whether it will throw any light upon the extraction of the Winchell family is a question which I must leave to Father and which is, I must say, rather doubtful in my opinion, but I write it for curiosity as much as any thing else. Some time since, a gentleman who had been sitting in the office and was stepping out at the door to leave, turned around, saying, "I have just noticed for the first time your name on your sign; it is the maiden name of my mother." He re-seated himself and we began the search for any relationship which might exist. It did not terminate in anything conclusive however and some thing broke off the investigation. His genealogy however was this. His mother was Catharine Winchell, born in Middletown, Conn. about 1794 - died in Indiana 1839. Her father was Titus Winchell - my informant thought originally from Scotland or Wales. Catharine had four brothers - the eldest of whom, Wheeler Winchell, was born in 1791. She was the second child. The two next children died in infancy. The youngest, Solomon, yet lives, about 45 years old. Both Solomon & Wheeler live in Connecticut. Wheeler has been Justice of the Peace at some eventful time of this life, - is a highly respectable man - has a family. Solomon on the contrary, is wild and dissipated and of little worth, -- has also a family. The father, Titus, was a soldier in the War of the Revolution - passed through it safely, but at the celebration of the Evacuation of New York by the English, he lost an arm by the accidental discharge of a cannon. And here the history ends. Mr. Hinsman, my informant, resides in Indiana, where his mother died and where he has a family. He is a respectable, intelligent, and pleasant man.

Until within a few days the fall weather has been delightful. The winds now, however, are mustering their stormy hosts and [are] making great demonstrations of wintery war. But I am not disposed to complain of the weather. My health is still excellent - Business pretty good. When I make $500,000 I'm off for home in the first boat. Then I anticipate full remuneration for my separation from home & friends. But it is late. I must bid you Good night & subscribe myself

Yours most affectionately, Elisha

[postmarked:] Sacramento City, Cal. 3 Dec

[addressed:] Col. Elias Winchell P.M.
West Springfield
Shelby Co.
Missouri