Page:California Inter Pocula.djvu/397



ally thrown  over  all  removed,  pioneers  began  to  look back upon  it  as  a  dream.

Time rolls  on,  and  between  the  river  banks  and wooded hills  smile  little  garden  spots,  enclosing neat white  cottages,  to  which  distance  lends  the  flavor of the  old-time  home,  where  wives  so  long  and  anx- iously waited the  return  of  their  rough  darlings. And here they  are  still,  far  from  the  land  of  their  birth, youth's hopes  perished,  hastening  to  untimely  graves^ Hatefully shines  the  new-minted  metal,  the  price  of conscience,  of  love,  the  reward  of  life's  failure  1

Slumber now  is  wooed  not  by  the  soft  low  tones  of wife  and  children;  the  care-heated  brain  is  soothed not by  the  magic  touch  of  fairy  fingers,  nor  is  the roused heart  calmed  by  the  uplifting  and  out-going influences of  family  prayer  and  praise. Mingled with the coyote's  howl  comes  the  sound  of  revelry  from  the adjacent camp,  while  the  panting  river  and  the  sigh- ing wood sing  their  lonely  lullaby.

And to  the  man  of  merchandise  in  the  busy  city's marts  arise  visions  of  home,  of  the  native  village,  of friends  beloved,  of  childhood  scenes ;  rocks,  hills,  and wood; meadow,  orchard,  and  the  clear  running  stream; garden and  barn;  pets  and  playmates, — these,  and  a thousand  like  things,  haunt  them  in  their  leisure  hours, intrude themselves  during  the  hot  perplexities  of  busi- ness, and mingle  with  their  midnight  dreams. Time was when  there  were  hours,  blessed  hours,  uncursed by any  burning  desire.

Carelessly standing  in  one  corner  of  Sinclair's  house, in the  autumn  of  1848,  half  covered  by  the  old  lumber which had  been  thrown  upon  it,  was  a  fanega  measure full of  gold,  all  but  half  an  inch. Now a  fanega  holds a bushel  and  a  half. One day  came  along  Patrick McChristian, happy  in  charitable  peace  with  the world, being  himself  in  those  days  a  prince  among the diggers,  for  his  pockets  were  always  stuffed  with, his several  thousands.