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Sacramento City Dec 23rd

My Dear Father

In compliance with the hint contained in your welcome letter of Sept. 5th I now proceed to 
deputize you as "Speaker" for the inmates of the "White Cottage". It seems as though "Uncle 
Samuel" were growing a little stingy and parsimonious in these his latter days, but in 
consideration of the many benefits which he has conferred upon his large and numerous family, 
and of which I myself have reaped the advantage, I will overlook this trait in his disposition 
and comply with his directions.

Last week the mail came up from Panama but brought nothing for me. I mean in the way of letters, 
for on inquiring at the Newspaper Box the clerk handed me a generous package, the superscription 
of which I at once recognized as the familiar handwriting of my dear mother. I have carried it 
in my pocket ever since and wherever a leisure moment occurs I draw it forth and read with deep 
interest "news from many lands", New York City, Springfield and Palmyra. It is not necessary for 
me to return any particular expression of thanks to mother for this reason now. She knows that I 
am not unmindful of the kind hand that envelopes them. As I received a similar package by a 
previous mail I hope that I am often to be favored with such tokens of remembrance.

Yesterday was the anniversary of the "Landing of the Pilgrims" and Mr. Benton preached a sermon 
appropriate to the occasion. Being unfortunately out of the city I did not hear it which I very 
much regret. He had announced his intention on the previ-

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-ous Sabbath, but it slipped my mind and at the time of leaving the city I did not think of it. 
If he treated this subject with his usual ability, it was no doubt a highly interesting discourse. 
I believe I gave you an intimation some time since of the fact that a day for "Thanksgiving" had 
been appointed by our Governor. He selected Saturday the 29th Nov as the most appropriate day that 
he could think of, though
had he not been a "[?]" and of course supposed to know nothing about these things, he would most
probably have been adjudged "a little cracked". But notwithstanding the innovation upon the sacred 
custom of selecting Thursday, I resolved to keep and commemorate the day so far as could be done by 
one Yankee alone. The announcement of Mr. Benton that he would preach a "Thanksgiving Sermon" at 
eleven o'clock on that day, seemed to prophecy the rapid approach of the "days of yore" along the 
track of Time. Only one thing was wanting - but that was a very important item under the 
circumstances - a well grounded hope of finding a regular Thanksgiving Dinner, without which, it is 
generally supposed, thanks would be few and feeble. All anxiety on this point was however dispersed 
by the notice that the Crescent City Hotel would, on that occasion, serve up a regular Dinner in 
commemoration of the day.   But alas for the stupidity of our Chief Magistrate. Thursday was a 
pleasant day, but Saturday brought heavy clouds and floods of rain. From sunrise until eleven it 
poured down incessantly and I then was obliged to relinquish my hope of hearing the sermon. At 
twelve it was no better & my visions of roast turkey were lost amid rolling fogs and rushing waters. 
The "feast of Reason" and the 

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"flow of the Soul" were alike unattended and unappreciated and thus I lost the pleasure and the 
honor of observing according to custom the first Thanksgiving on the shores of the Pacific.

I found however that my misfortune in not hearing the discourse was the misfortune of many, and the 
next day, at the request of his congregation, Mr. Benton repeated it to an unusually large audience 
out by the remarkably fine weather which followed the rain. It was beautifully written and though Mr. 
Benton's delivery has always struck me as being very poor and inefficient, yet on this occasion he 
seemed roused and excited by the subject and read it in such a forcible manner as to command the 
entire and uninterrupted attention of his hearers and at one or two passages to draw tears from their 
eyes. It was determined to request a copy for publication which has been done and by this mail I 
transmit you a copy. If it interests you as much as it did me, it will pay for sending it so far. I 
will say however that though I am not prepared to endorse all his beautiful predictions of the future 
progress & prosperity of the "Eureka State", yet in many - probably in most of his views, he is 
correct. He is a thorough bred Yankee, being from Boston. With the sermon I also send you a copy of 
each of the newspapers now published in Sacramento. Two of them have sprung into existence since my 
arrival, and demonstrate the fact that Californians are reading people.

Until very lately political parties have had no existence among us. There seemed to be no particular 
necessity for making the distinction known in the state between aspirants for office and the voters 
at the polls support without reference to party predilections the individuals whom they consider best 
fitted for 

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the post. But the Democrats were not satisfied with this good but very ancient way of choosing 
officers. Thinking they had a majority - which was conceded by the Whigs - in the city and county, 
the determined to avail themselves of this opportunity of filling the public offices with men of 
their own stamp. So they held a meeting, laid down a platform, marshaled their forces and dared the 
Whigs to oppose them. Thus challenged the Whigs met and organized the party and at an election for 
the office of mayor beat the Democrats badly. This was not expected, as the Dem had a very popular 
candidate in the field, and had more over been very active in their own cause. On Saturday last 
another election was held to fill the vacancy in the Legislature caused by the death of one of the 
representative of Sac. Co. Grown desperate by their unexpected defeat previously, the Democrats used 
every imaginable effort to succeed. They held meetings during the week, which were addressed by their 
"big guns" and in fact looked so formidable in a torch light procession on the night previous to the 
election that some of the Whigs began to doubt their final success. But the next day they marched to 
the polls and at dark the result was announced in the city - Whig majority 246. The Democrats were 
thunderstruck but hoped the news from the country would set them right. Most anxiously they awaited 
the return of the carriers, but when they came they brought the doleful news that the Whig majority 
throughout the county was 150. This gives the Whigs a majority in the State Legislature and secures 
to them a Whig Senator in Congress in place of Mr. Fremont, whose term expires in March next. It was 
this fact which made the election so important and it was conducted with more zeal and enthusiasm 
than I ever saw exhibited in the States. Mr. Fremont is politically dead, dead, dead. He could [not] 
be more so were he sleeping beneath the sod of the beautiful valley which he has made his home. 
Perhaps he thinks California ungrateful in refusing to uphold him in office after being the pioneer 
to her shores. 

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No Two.

But his political courses whether dictated by sinister motives or caused by ignorance of the wants 
of his constituents has been so wretchedly unpopular, that he need not ever apply to Californians 
to aid him in obtaining any office higher than that of Justice of the Peace.

Our rainy season commenced on the 19th of Novr. with a very heavy rain which lasted two or three 
days. Since then we have had more or less rain every week but there have been many intervals of 
one, two, three & four days, of bright and pleasant weather. Probably a week of clear, sparkling 
days once occurred. The temperature at no time has been cold, if I may except two or three nights 
when we had sharp frost which produced out of doors ice 1/4 of an inch in thickness. Frequently 
the sun throws down his rays with such fervor as to remind us of the warm days of May in Missouri. 
The short, close cropped grass near the city preserves its verdant appearance, but does not grow 
so much as I had expected it would from the Representations of individuals. Today, Monday 23rd, 
the sun shines brightly in a sky perfectly free from clouds if I except one or two white, thin, 
gauze-like vapours which are lazily floating about as if they had lost all their companions, or 
were leisurely on their way to join a long line of white mists which have rested their forms upon 
the brow of the "Sierra". The wind nonetheless blows most merrily from the N.W. and seems to be 
hourly increasing in force, but it is not the wild[?], sharp, piercing, blast that howls around 
the dwellings of the North. It is cool to be sure, but not uncomfortably so, and a very little 
fire in my diminutive stove serves to keep me perfectly comfortable. But as regards the power of 
the winter winds, California is not far behind other parts of the world. A few nights since, a 
breeze which at sundown was gently sighing over the valley, increased at midnight into almost a 
hurricane. The building in which I was spending the night with a family in the country shook and 
trembled as though in great fear of being overthrown, but it stood the blast uninjured. Next 
morning however on reaching the city, I found that many 

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buildings of larger size and greater pretensions had suffered considerably. Several which stood on 
posts two feet above the ground were deposited from this elevated position and seated upon the 
ground a few feet distant without serious injury. One of them, "the Quincy House" containing a 
family was moved so gently as to cause them little or no alarm. I saw it the next morning moved 
several feet from its former position and it seemed surprising that the force which could accomplish 
such a feat did not overwhelm the structure and crush the inmates. So much for California mountain winds.

Yonder goes a singular sight, - at least to the uninitiated, - a drove of Mexican pack mules, twenty 
in number, returning from a trip to the mines, driven by two of the "natives" in the costumes of their 
countrymen. The huge pack saddles, now empty, would at first sight strike you as the load itself. They 
consist of two broad, short, flat leathern bags stuffed with hay or some other suitable substance 
united together at the top and thrown over the back of the mule to protect his vertebrae and ribs from 
the severe and cruel galling of the packs which they are forced to carry. The girths of the saddles 
are made of leather or horsehair woven by Mexican skill and are from six to eight inches in width. To 
break them is an impossibility. Instead of buckles they are fastened with tough thongs of rawhide which 
are so contrived that they give the driver an astonishing power of drawing the girth together when 
saddling his mules, and enable him to compress the sides and bind the very ribs of his patient slaves, 
until it seems as though life itself would be squeezed out of them. But they say this cruelty is 
necessary to keep the saddle in its place when ascending the cliffs and descending the precipices of 
the mountain passes where the miners are to be found. From two to three hundred pounds of flour are 
generally packed upon a single mule; the quantity of course being proportioned to its size and 
strength. In the same way they transport all other kinds 

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of merchandize over roads which no wheels can ever hope to traverse, and into deep and darksome 
glens which no man can inhabit for want of food, were it not for the services of the useful and 
much abused donkey. The Mexicans, their drivers who are usually employed to conduct their "trains", 
are about as patient and as intelligent as their brute servants. In the summer season they ride 
slowly along behind the drove, carelessly whistling or singing a gleesome strain, now and then 
scolding some stubborn mule which in spite of their threats will turn aside his head to crop a 
spine of grass or an overhanging shrub. Their dark complexion, long, loose, jet black locks and 
semi-savage accoutrements and dress, have you in doubt at first whether they are not real, bona 
fide sons of the forest, -- live Digger Indians. But the erring donkey calls forth a volley of 
abuse, and the soft, smooth, musical accents contrast so strongly with the harsh gutturals of the 
Diggers that you hesitate not to pronounce them the descendants of the noble and chivalrous 
adventurers of sunny Spain. But oh! how [?]. Nothing but the dark, fire-lit, flashing eye and the 
melodious intonations of the voice remain to mark any claim of kindred to their dour and 
accomplished ancestors. I am describing the lower class, those who were born to, and who aspire to, 
nothing higher than the station of mule driver. Of the higher classes, we see a number in the 
cities. They are all, without exception, gamblers of exquisite skill, and consider it no crime, no 
impeachment upon their fair fame, no divination from the strict rule of morality, to spend their 
allotted years in dealing cards in all the various games with which the science of gambling makes 
them thoroughly conversant.

I must bring my letter to a close as I am closely approximating the outer boundaries of the second 
sheet. I often wonder if I do not weary you with my long and possibly monotonous letters. As you 
perceive I do not express any opinion with reference to the prosperity of emigrants coming from 
Missouri to California. I do not think I have as yet seen or heard all that is to be seen and 
heard and should the future develop any thing which should reverse an opinion sent back upon 
that subject, I should regret it very much.

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One thing however I will say and that most emphatically - that no married man, comfortably 
situated and making a respectable living should leave Missouri to come here. The dangers and 
difficulties of the migration are too great for females to be compelled to bear and upon arriving 
here the want of suitable and congenial society makes it an unpleasant place for a family. But it 
is still the most fervent wish of those who desire and predict the future glory of this new state 
that families should come and make this their permanent home; for the conservation and purifying 
influences which they shed over a community are what is now most needed to redeem California from 
many errors which are rife within her limits.

Please tell Mother that if she is not able to write soon a whole letter, I hope she will find time 
and strength to write a long postscript in your next. I return her many thanks for the last one 
and wish to see many such. Tell Homer that I have come to the conclusion that he has either 
entirely forgotten me or thinks that I take no interest in him. As I can disprove the last 
supposition I must adopt the first, which he knows is very gratifying to my feelings. E. is 
entitled to many thanks for his remembrances, I shall regularly remember them. For Rens. I have no 
message of importance as he will claim my next letter. Fanny knows that I do not forget her.

I hope dear father that I may hear from you again very soon. Your last was highly interesting and 
claims my sincere thanks.

Give my warm affection to mother and all the rest, and believe me aff. as ever, your most dutiful 
& affectionate son, Elisha 

[postmarked:] Sacramento City Cal. Dec 26

[addressed:] Col. Elias Winchell, Post Master
West Springfield
Shelby County
Missouri

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Christmas Day December 25th

I add a short postscript to wish you and all the loved ones in Mo a "very merry" and a truly 
happy Christmas. Could I be with you even for a few short hours, to join in the universal 
gladness on this occasion it would be to me the happiest, the merriest Christmas that my life 
has afforded. But such desires I find have a tendency to depress my spirits and therefore I 
shall not indulge them to a great extent. I suspect that no portion of the earth smiles more 
gladsomely in the light of the Christmas sun than this fair valley. Last night was one of the 
most sublimely beautiful that I have ever beheld. The wind blew hard all day yesterday but at 
dusk it ceased and the most perfect calmness prevailed. Not a cloud or a mist appeared to mar 
the beauty of the dark blue sky and the stars glittering like gold show out in the gorgeous 
constellations that we see in the clear sharp frosty nights in Mo. But here was but little or 
no frost and the air was almost as soft and mild as the breath of Spring. It is useless for me 
however to attempt to describe it. And this morning the sun came over the mountains rob'd in 
an unusual splendor which he seemed to have donned for the occasion. The morning breeze is 
scarcely felt and if I may be permitted to judge from the descriptions that I have now of the 
climate of Italy, that famous clime cannot boast of a lovelier day than this. You probably saw 
Col Muldrow's letter written to Dr Dimmitt of Lagrange and published in the Whig in which he 
gives a glowing description of this climate. 

[Note: the following "crosses" what was previously written, and should be read after page 10]

Mr. John McKee just called and chatted a few moments. He and Mr. Muldrow have some great 
expectations on hand. They have bought interest in a tract of land 3 miles wide and 18 miles 
long on the east side of the Sacramento & Feather Rivers and for certain improvements which 
they are to make thereon are to have at the end of two years one half of the whole tract. But 
time will not permit me to sketch all the plans which they have in view.

Please do not let any thing which I write back be published for there are probably many errors 
in my hasty scribbles which it would not do to put in print. When I get ready I will send 
something for publication.

My health is excellent as usual, - so is that of the whole country. Farewell.

In haste yours affly

E C Winchell

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Were all the months of our winter made of such days as this I would go farther than he did and 
say that not even Italy herself could match California in the mild and balmy influences of her 
atmosphere. But this of course cannot last long. Instead it will be a little singular if another 
day of such surpassing beauty occurs this winter. Clouds, rain & mud must in the natural course 
of events soon follow.
 
Mr. Glover who for several weeks was quite unwell has now entirely recovered and is as fat as a 
"grizzly". He left for San Francisco a few days ago on business; will return soon. Business is 
good and promises to increase. Our city is constantly improving. Yesterday was completed the 
levee which surrounds the entire city and is 5 or six miles in length. The cost was about 125,000 
dolls. Yesterday morning I went down to the wharf to look at a new boat just up from San Francisco. 
She is an ocean steamer built at New Orleans to ply between that city and Galveston or Havana. She 
was brought around the Horn & for some time past has been running between San Fran and the Isthmus. 
Thinking the Sacramento trade sufficient to support her she is now to run between here and San F. 
She is a noble vessel and stood as a queen among the other boats which surrounded her, - several of 
which by the way are not to be "sneezed at". The scene on the river was indeed a busy one and to a 
novice in such things extremely interesting. Vessels from all part of the world lay along the banks 
discharging or waiting for cargoes, steamboats run passing & repassing up and down the river to 
various ports heavily laden with goods and passengers, and were it not for the giant trees along the 
banks, the ugly stumps in the streets and the dense thickets on the other side of the river, it would 
have seemed as though I was transported back to some old, settled portion of the world. If I am not 
mistaken Sacramento City on her river is rapidly approximating what Albany was on the Hudson, at the 
time we passed through there on our way to Missouri. 

[Note: end of letter is on page 9]