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Sacramento City May 16th 1851
(Thursday Evening)
    
Dearest Sister

If you look at the date of a letter that I wrote in pencil from the west bank of the Missouri River, you will I think find that it corresponds precisely with the above, with this variation - that '50 appears there in place of '51 here. Just one year has elapsed since with my companions I actually commenced the California trip, and found myself pushing off from the shore of civilization into the broad and almost trackless ocean wilderness. How distinctly every scene of that memorable afternoon comes up again before me - the broad and rushing Missouri, the beautiful city that sat enthroned on her eastern bank, with her slender spires glancing back the rich light of the declining sun, the innumerable snow white tents and wagon covers that glistened in picturesque and romantic beauty along either band, the wild and savage looking groups of Kickapoos that occasionally appeared, the grandeur of the deep and beautiful forest into which we were entering and lastly, though not least, the green slopes of the hills on the eastern bank of the river which were the last objects which met our view beyond the stream and to which we turned our eyes again and again with many a fond and lingering look until they were lost behind the intervening verdance of the deepening forest, 



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-- all these scenes appear as freshly before me now as though that were the creations of yesterday. I remember too that at night our camp was pitched by the side of a rushing stream, our horses picketed among the green rushes, and that there we gathered around our camp fire and while with keen appetites we discussed our emigrant fare, we also with saddened and heavy hearts, thought and spoke of the final "farewell" to home, to friends and country which had now been irrevocably spoken. Heretofore, we had been among our own people, if not in the company of our nearest friends and had it in our power, if so we chose still to relinquish the attempt and return home, -- but now, the Rubicon was passed, -- there was no return; danger and disgrace would inevitably attend the footsteps of him should now turn back. Is it strange then that our thoughts should be of a mournful character? But the night was waning - the morrow was to be a day of toil - the precious hours for rest might not be wasted in fireside chat, and the circle round the camp fire separated and sought their cots. The solitary sentinel along, closed not his eyes but with his heavy coat buttoned close around him, for the night wind was bleak and chilly, & carrying his trusty rifle he paced silently back and forth in the dim star light, patiently awaiting the progress of "Ursa Major" to the point in its pathway which marked the expiration of his watch, and called up his sleepy companion to take his tedious occupation.



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May 19th.

The aspect of the weather today surprises all Californians. Last evening the wind commenced blowing strongly from the S.E. and before morning the clouds had gathered and were pouring down their treasures upon the thirsty land in plenteous floods. And today it continues still; the sky is darkly overcast and the drizzle is steady and unceasing. It is a very unusual thing to hear rain here so late as the month of May and the Mexicans say the Yankees have brought the summer rains with them from the States. But the showers are very acceptable indeed to the farmers and gardeners who have hitherto worn rather long countenances at the exceedingly dry prospect before them. Now however they will feel safe -the success of their efforts is ensured. The farming interest of this state will be revived not only for the present but probably for a number of years in future by the genial influences of this glorious shower. The other class of our citizens however - the miners - do not feel very thankful for the gift - all winter they patiently waited by the side of the heaps of earth for the rains which were to furnish the means of washing it out, in vain; no rain fell and they sought the banks of the rivers hoping that they would soon sink so much below their ordinary level as to leave exposed rich beds and bars that would soon fill their pockets with treasurer. And for a time these hopes seemed about to be realized - but within the past few weeks, heavy clouds have hung day after day upon the summits or the "Sierra", and the miners report that from 50 to 100 feet of snow has fallen. 



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And now the rain, added to the melting snow will swell the streams and probably keep them full during the rest of the summer.

Some time ago as I was passing along K street my attention was attracted by the appearance of a lady apparently an invalid standing in the door of a house, evidently enjoying the pleasant influences of the bright sun and fresh morning air. She was very weak - almost utterly helpless - and was supported in her standing position by a gentleman and another lady. I could not repress a momentary feeling of pity for a human being in so wretched a condition, but I passed on and soon forgot the scene entirely. A few days after a gentleman with whom I was conversing, mentioned the condition of this lady and informed me that she had been in the State but a few months; - that a short time previous to coming or soon after her arrival she had married a man by the name of Richards, I think, -- that they came to the city and remained here a few weeks when he told her that he was going to Stockton to buy a large drove of cattle to speculate in, and wished her to let him have all the money she could spare. With a wife's generosity, she gave him all her money and a great part of her jewelry besides inducing their land lady to lend him considerable more. He bade them farewell and hoped he should return in two weeks. The time passed by and she then learned that he had returned to the States, - had cruelly deserted her in a strange land and left her to the mercy of strangers. She became deranged and was seized with a nervous affliction which rendered her helpless as an infant for many weeks. She was just beginning to recover when I saw her standing in the door. I had previously heard a tale 



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similar to this, and upon farther inquiry I learned that this lady was no one, other than Margaret Nelson! -- the daughter of the first president of Marion College. Where she now is I know not; -- she is not in the city and may be in the grave. I recollect that a notion of her helpless and disturbed condition was published in the city papers, but no names were given, and as this was before I saw her, I knew not to whom the notice alluded. A sad reverse of fortune, truly!

Now let me tell you of another individual of whom you have heard before this. But his is only the repetition of that which others tell me; - I know it not of "my own knowledge" as the lawyers say. An elderly lady and her daughter found themselves in this city sometime since, just from the states & without protectors or fortune. But they were not discouraged at the prospect before them. They looked around - opened a boarding house - took in washing, and in various ways, exerted themselves to make a comfortable living. At length the old lady had an offer of marriage; and seeing that it was rather an advantageous one she accepted it on certain conditions - which I cannot accurately particularize - but which secured her in the absolute possession of her own property and gave her a good hold upon that of her husband! Shrewd old woman, she! They were married and she and her daughter gave up their boarding house & washing, -- took a residence in the country near the romantic ruins of "Stutter's Fort", and whenever their health required them to take a little exercise they would honor the city with their presence in their carriage and four! Subsequently, the daugh-



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-ter married a dashing young Dutchman and now I believe resides in the city. Occasionally she may be seen with her aristocratic mother in her aristocratic carriage, rolling through the streets in great dignity. The husband of the mother is said to be worth 40,000 dollars; when he vacates the sublunary sphere his loving spouse becomes his sole heir. The name of the mother was Mrs. and that of the daughter, Sophy Newbower. I think you once enjoyed the privilege and pleasure of an acquaintance with the latter!

This is a very rambling letter as you have long since observed but as I have got so far in this manner I will ramble on to the end. I am writing in my office, where [there] are a group of gentlemen chatting over a variety of subjects in so lively a manner that it is rather difficult to confine oneself to any one train of thought very long. Among them is a lawyer from Detroit - one of the most brilliant men I ever saw. He was educated in Philadelphia - has an inexhaustible store of information upon every subject imaginable - is a thoroughly read lawyer and possessed of conversational power that I never saw surpassed. Every subject that he touches upon - even the most trivial and ordinary - he embellishes and illumines with his ever ready stories of wit, in such a manner that they possess an attraction that never before seemed to belong to them. But he is the slave - the obsequious slave - of a habit that has destroyed thousands and will destroy him, long before he reaches the full maturity of life. Even now, he is at times dependant for his daily bread upon the charity of a friend. Again he throws off his chain and in some important cause arouses himself & dazzles the court with the brilliancy of his gifts and acquirements. For a time, his friends cherish a hope that he will permanently reform; but before they are aware he is again a stupefied inebriate. 



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May 25th. 

This letter has been dragging its slow length along for some time and it is high time now to finish it. I have an opportunity of sending it to you by a gentleman of the name of Lashly who returns by the next steamer. He came out in '49 - has made some money and having a family behind returns to Mo. Were it not for his family he says he would make this his home. We hear that several of the returned Californians are coming back here this summer. Is it so? I am not surprised at it - even if they were but moderately successful while here, there is something in the very atmosphere of California that would induce a man to hasten back here after remaining a short time among the quiet and monotony of the "States". I believe that nothing but my friends would ever make me satisfied with Mo. were I there now; and were they here, I do not think that I should have any inclination to leave here, for any part of the world. Not that as yet I have been so very extraordinarily successful; on the contrary I am at present a little dissatisfied with the results of the Past, -- amounting as they do to but little more than sufficient to supply the demands of life - but I think I see a brighter Future and am strongly inclined to hope that it will not be void of benefits. At any rate, if perseverance will avail anything, it shall be so.

And yet, dearest sister, among the brightest hopes that I dare to weave for the Future there are many doubts and misgivings. I know that it is unmanly thus to feel or thus to write but it gives relief to breathe these troubles into your ear, and I know that you, even though all the rest of the world should sneer will listen patiently, and with a charitable and affectionate heart. 



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But I must close. Please let me hear from you as often as you can spare the time to write. I received a long and very kind letter from Mr. Anderson a day or too since, for which [he] has my sincere thanks. I shall try to answer it very soon. I have told you but little news and I know of nothing that is worth communication. Our friends Mrs. Hoyt & Dexter are well and doing well.

Henry is now about 14 miles from the city engaged in cutting hay on Uncle Sam's meadows. A good many speculators are in the hay business this year and dream of "piles" that whey will make. I hope they may all be successful.

Joe asked me in his last letter whether I ever obtained my books, papers, letters etc which I parted with as the foot of the mountains. Tell him that I have not as yet, but I learn they are safe in the possession of Mr. Caldwell. His eldest daughter is very pretty and I wish Joe was here; I would send him for them. But Farewell dearest sister, and believe that I am ever yours.

Elisha