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Sacramento City April 13th 1851 

My Dearest Sister

Your very kind and highly interesting letter of Jany 1st was recd some days since and 
read and re-read with great delight. I would have answered it immediately but for the 
fact that I was so much occupied with various matters that I could not collect enough 
news to make a letter to you as interesting as I would like. And even now I fear you 
will be disappointed for I do not think of any striking events which have lately 
transpired; but the mail closes on Tuesday - tomorrow I shall have no time for writing 
and I must send you what I have, or nothing at all.

This is the Sabbath. I have just returned from the morning service. It will therefore 
sound strangely to your ears that while I am writing at my table, in the room (in the 
same building) a criminal trial, which was commenced last night is now in progress. 
The charge is for stealing $4000 dollars in gold dust. Listen, I hear the first words 
of the Prosecuting Atty as he opens the case; "If it pleases the Court, for the second 
time in my life I appear in a court of Justice on the part of the State etc" He speaks 
in a moderate tone of voice, but were I disposed to follow that subject, I could send 
you his speech word for word and this without leaving my seat. But I am tired of suing 
these criminal cases every day in the week - and now that the Day of Rest is occupied 
in their prosecution I have no desire to listen. The gentleman grows excited & eloquent 
as his voice rises louder & more vehement, you may judge how much he will aid me in 
penning this letter. I will try to shut my ears and forget his presence.

I mentioned the services at Church - Mr. Benton of Boston is the pastor. He is well 
educated, possesses considerable talent, is a most beautiful & interesting writer and 
a devoted minister. 

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Through his persevering and unwearied exertions the Presbyterian Church of Sacramento City 
has risen from obscurity to a very encouraging position. When all others despaired he hoped 
and toiled on and through the clouds and darkness which have seemed to obscure and extinguish 
every spark of virtue in the most singular world, he has steadily kept on his way until now 
the sun has reappeared and shines brightly on his future courses. Richly he deserves the thanks 
and gratitude of this whole community. In coming years his labors will be well appreciated. His 
discourse this morning was, like all of his efforts, very interesting and beautiful. His text 
was from the 28th chapter of II Kings, -- his subject, the constitution of the Israelitish 
Kingdom at that time, the character of Jezebel and the scene of the trial of the claim of the 
prophets to Bael to rule Israel in defiance of Jehovah. The description which Mr. B gave of 
this extraordinary event was very fine and had a powerful effect. In truth in descriptive powers 
he excels any public speaker I ever heard. Now for the hearers. You probably imagine them a 
handful of rough-looking, care-worn individuals somewhat similar in appearance to the hardy 
backwoodsmen who compose a large majority of the congregation at the annual Camp meetings in Mo. 
But you are not quite right. Here and there you see fierce moustaches, and in every part of the 
cong. are long, thick, bushy whiskers. These are the distinguishing marks of the California church 
goers; otherwise you observe nothing that differs from a New England or Palmyra congregation. Yes! 
Stop! there's one peculiarity besides. As you enter the door, your eye falls on broadcloth & 
cassimere - on uncovered heads & masculine forms and faces - black, black, black is the only color. 
There's no silk, no satin, no velvet, no laces, no ribbons, no pink, no white, no blue, no veils, 
no shawls, no bonnets, no ladies! The grim and gloomy "Lords of Creation" here hold undisputed 
sway, - enjoy the sweet delight of undivided rule. Oh! the blessings of possessing without a rival, 

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the privilege of domination "over all creation"!! After sitting a few moments perhaps you hear 
an unusual bustle at the door. You look and a lady, perhaps two or three, enters and walks up 
the aisle. "What stupid fools, -- what blockhead gapers these men are! Did they never see a woman 
before." Yes, but it was a "long time ago" - here in Gallant California, it is considered not only 
allowable, but very natural, and extremely polite to turn plumb around and gaze earnestly into the 
face of every lady who enters. Here it is no offence - all are guilty if it is one. Merchants, 
doctors, bankers, lawyers, all, all are allowed this very pleasant privilege, - and occasionally, 
by watching, you may discover the preacher, though a man of excellent breeding and great modesty 
withal, -- peeping out from behind his Bible and velvet, cushioned desk to pay the passing tribute 
of his admiration to this specimen of "Heaven's last best gift to man" who is now seating herself. 
The usual proportion of ladies who attend church there is as 1 to 15 or 20! Today, the whole number 
present was about fifteen, - sometimes, though, but seldom, I have counted as many as thirty. But 
they are of no inferior class of females, - from the belle of St Louis or New Orleans, to the highly 
intelligent and refined ladies of Boston, New York & "la belle France", - of each, there is a noble 
and worthy representation. And let me in passing add that if, in all the wide world there is a clime 
whose sons are more capable of appreciating & who do manfully and nobly appreciate than any one else 
the inestimable & priceless worth of virtuous, refined and cultivated women, that clime is found 
beneath the sunny sky of California.

Now that I am in the church, let me point out the construction of the edifice. It is probably 80
feet in length, 50 in width, and beneath the ceiling 20 or 25 feet in height. It fronts to the east
presenting a neat appearance with its square, turret-shaped belfry which rises from the apex of the 
roof directly over the great	door at which you enter. You find yourself in the vesti-

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-bule and turning either to the right or left a few steps, enter one of the two doors that open into 
the aisles that extend through the room to the pulpit. The seats will accommodate three or four hundred 
persons. The desk is a beautiful piece of architecture and is very tastefully trimmed with rich ermine 
velvet & tassels. It stands upon a carpeted platform, the ascent to which is by two flights of steps - 
one on each side of the desk. The seats are a rich sofa and four mahogany hair bottomed chairs. Upon the 
wall at the back of the desk, is skillfully painted an elegant representation of the marble, Corinthian 
pillars and the heavy door which for the entrance to an imaginary temple. Taking it all together, the 
sacred desk is the most neat and elegant thing of the kind I ever saw. Jacksonville cannot do better. 
From the vestibule two flights of stairs ascend to the gallery which extends across the front end of the 
room. Here is an excellent choir including many fine voices and a melodeon played by a skillful hand. 
Thus you see there is much in this church to revive the recollections of old. And when I occasionally 
hear the gushing, thrilling melody of some old familiar strain which I first learned under the echoing 
roof of the old white church on the hills in New England and heard again repeated from your own lips in 
the valley of the Mississippi, do you suppose that my emotions are of any ordinary character? Then it is 
that upon my mind flashes back the vivid remembrances of home and the dear ones that linger there - and 
then I feel most deeply, most painfully the separation which has torn us so far asunder.

In the ordinary scenes of life here, there is but little to remind me of home. Vice and immorality of 
every form & description stalk on every side and horribly mar the beauty of the world which Nature has 
created. I shall not tire & disgust you more with any detailed account of the different shapes in which 
moral evil boldly presents itself in this community. Suffice it to say that at the moment (the afternoon 
has passed, the sun has set and the bright moon and stars glitter above) I hear the music of the 
trombone/the clarinet, the cornopean 

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of the band that belongs to the "great Olympic Circus". They perform every night - Sundays not 
excepted - and thousands visit them. I can distinctly hear the notes of the favorite French National 
air, "La Marsellaise" as they float on the still air of evening; were they a little nearer I could 
also hear the musicians of the Tehama Theatre, who also hold forth every night. And down the street, 
I hear the mingled sounds of music, of human voices and human footsteps as they thunder along the 
wooden pavements towards the gambling saloons. There are the favorite places of resort of hundreds 
& thousands that know no better, or can here find no better amusement, than listening to the music 
that continually gushes forth, or looking at the gamblers as they sit at their coin-laden tables and 
deal out the favors or the powers of Fortune to the multitudes. Do not wonder that the attractions of 
these saloons are very numerous & to many are too powerful to resist. I have sometimes read in 
newspapers a description of the splendid "gambling halls" of New Orleans, written by some votary of 
Fortune, but they cannot equal those in our city. And further, instead of being private, concealed 
haunts, hidden through force of public opinion from public gaze, they are situated in the most crowded 
and public past of the most public street of the city. They are the grand center, as it were, of the 
business establishments, and other minor concerns, such as those of our wealthiest merchants are 
shoved aside - compelled to yield to the wealth and influence of the gamblers. The saloons are lighted 
with a hundred blazing chandeliers, decorated with the most exquisite and costly paintings, and 
supplied with the greatest abundance of liquors and "refreshments". The monte-dealers with solid blocks 
of coin piled on their tables, roulette keepers with their revolving wheels, -- the Sansquenst[?], -- 
the Faro Bank players all resort here to indulge in that which they make their profession - the business 
of their lives - gambling. And in these scenes of vice and depravity, the form of woman sometimes moves. 
I have witnessed ladies frequently sitting at the tables and betting with an interest and skill which 
rivaled that of the "Lords" around them. And once I saw a little girl, as young and almost as pretty 
and almost as sweet as your own Fanny, stand up in a chair by the side of a Mexican "monte dealer" and 
lay down five dollar coins (which her delighted father furnished her) with as much gravity and anxiety 
depicted on her countenance as on that of an old gambler & evincing a perfect knowledge of the series 
and showing as much delight when her bet won as though she had been playing 100 years. 

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But I have told you enough and yet I have not told you a tithe of the scenes and forms of vice which 
daily seem to multiply around it. Every other house in the city is a tavern or eating house, and nobody 
pretends to keep a public house here without supplying it with all kinds of liquors. Every body drinks, 
- everybody. The judge on the bench stops short in his deliberations and intimates the need of a little 
refreshment. He extends the invitation to the attys and as a matter of course, as an act of ordinary 
politeness they invariable go to the dram shop together. Besides myself I know but one "Temperance Man" 
in the ranks of our Bar - numbering about 70 lawyers; he is a Virginian, -- a nephew of the famed Tom 
Ritchie, and is a gentleman.

But enough of this. I have nothing more respecting myself - unless you have not been informed that I 
have entered into partnership with a gentleman by the name of McConaha. Business is now pretty good. 
My health is excellent. I have no disposition to complain of California, but for one thing - she 
separates me so far and so long from all I care for on earth. When I shall return I have not the 
remotest idea. Long, dreary years may yet find me here, -- but do not intimate this to Father or 
Mother. You know not how much I would give to see you for one short hour. But Farewell! I might 
write all night and it would not bring you any nearer. But if I see you not again on earth, believe, 
when I slumber in the tomb that if any exertion or any sacrifice which I could have made (even did 
it extend to the surrender of my life) would have increased your happiness in the slightest degree 
most cheerfully would I have made it. Write to me soon will you not. Give my love to all the members 
of your little flock, to your husband & all other friends. Reserve for yourself the most ardent and 
constant devotion of a heart which can never change.

Your brother Elisha