I must have been putting off writing you for several weeks; the reason for not feeling quite ready day after day being, I suppose, because I have been for some time expecting by every succeeding mail from Stockton, to get a telegraphic message from you, in answer to my enquiry when Mary was to leave & who with her, and also because I have not been well. I suppose “dyspesia” covers my troubles, but the particular action of it in my case, makes writing a task to be dreaded. I write as little as I can and ride as much as I can and am gaining on it.

I duly received yours of the 24th Novr and tonight, as a most welcome New Year’s greeting, yours of Decr 3d. With it Sister Mary’s of the 4th and one from my wife, not dated—postmarked 3d with intelligence of the fire on Staten Island. She gives few particulars of this, but I infer from one expression that most of our “valuables” had been removed, though it appears the Washington letters had not. It saddens me to think of the destruction of many m/s, and helps to strengthen an unpleasant sense of being cut off from my past life, though I don’t think of much which could have been there that I shall be likely to really want. In fact I can’t quite think what “valuables” we had there, except for association’s sake. I understand the books had been mostly removed—packed in New York for shipment.

I suppose that you are right in advising the immediate sale of the farm for what it will fetch. I shall be impressed if it is over $15,000, in Greenbacks and I shall creak again to give it up. It is home to me, and I confess I am sadly homesick. It is very hard to make up my mind to adopt this as my home or to begin life over again in making friends here. I don’t see how I can hope to make Mary contented to live here—or to endure it. It is dreadfully rough, and I even when on horseback, can’t help turning many a long, lingering look back upon civilization and homes. I detest this intermediate state between bivouacking and home-living. Individually, I am comfortable enough. I have made my office comfortable; I have comfortable meals, I have a loveable horse and I enjoy the air and the landscape.

I gave a dinner today to the Superintendents, with my central staff and Judge Jones, wife & sister. (He has just gone upon the bench from a superintendency on the estate). We had four ladies and twelve gentlemen: dinner served in my office. The Oso hotel and Charles Wauters exhausted their resources and we had a very good dinner, neatly & quietly served. It was by far the greatest triumph of civilization over the [173]prevailing idolotry of discomfort and disorder that Bear Valley has seen, I think.

The moral soil is excessively inert here. What little of religion of profession there is chiefly takes the Southern Methodist form. There is a Methodist Church South & a ditto North, I understand in Mariposa & they have preachers—the Northern man is said to be much the best, & he is a Kentuckian with less than an “ordinary common school education” & no ideas beyond the catechism. A real missionary going about doing good and not making a business of preaching, either wholesale or retail, would find a grand field here.

I’m not sure that the Chinese are not the best part of the population—morally. They are quiet, industrious, peaceable and there seems to be less essential vice in opium-smoking than in our national excitements. It seems to me a great deal could be made of them if they could be rightly taken hold of. It’s a shocking commentary upon our assumptions of moral & religious advancement over the rest of the world to see how they are treated & what ideas they must form of our character. I frequently salute them with a word as I pass them at work and get a rude, insolent, contemptuous reply. This being the custom of the country to them is all the English they have learned. In short they know nothing of us that is not detestable, and with such ideas of Christians they are going back by ship loads to the land of Confucius.

I employ them all I can in the mills and mines and am more successful in my attempts to do so than I supposed I could be. Of 24 hands now employed at a mine which I am opening at Mariposa, twelve are Chinamen and I pay them only half the wages we pay at our other mines for the same labor. They do not seem to be excessively penurious—they live pretty well—dress as well as our people, and their trade is of importance to our merchants. They lie and steal whenever they can make anything by it, but they work more steadily and faithfully than Cornish men. You see more industry without parsimony and frugality without meanness among them than among the ruling races here.

Of our Europeans, the Italians are here, as they were on the park, the most industrious. They do nearly all the market gardening. I don’t think the Diggers are as bad a people as they are generally represented to be. I see a good deal of industry among them. I often observe both men and women very steadily employed in pounding acorns. A bread made of flour of acorns with grass hoppers seems to be the commonest food. They also make a soup of it, boiled in a basket, woven water-tight. Of course they can’t put it on the fire, & the boiling is effected by heating stones and dropping them in the soup. They are very ugly with hair like a heavy black fur shading their foreheads. Their children [174]

Indian Camp, Bear Valley

[175]

By the way one of our foremen, coming to make a report at the office a few nights since, met a large Cinnamon bear just outside of the settlement. He fired a Derringer at him and the bear turned and made after him. He ran and came into the office, made his report to me & went off saying nothing about the bear till next day. On New Year’s day a couple of grizzlies were seen near Benton Mills. I believe I told you that I saw “bear signs”and a fine black tailed buck, the last time I went up Mt. Bullion. There seem to be no sportsmen here. I hear of nobody looking up the bears and I expect to fall in with them any time I ride out. The view of the Sierras now—covered with snow, is very fine. It is only here and there we get a sight out at them in riding over the estate.

My box of books from Mason—bringing the Waverly novels, presented me by the Sanitarians in Washington, has just arrived. I am very glad to have them. I can read when I can’t write or ride.

I am very sorry to see a report in a Washington letter to a San Francisco paper that Dr Butler’s son has been severely wounded. I hope not fatally. Please tell me about him, & if he is in Hartford give my respects to him.

I can’t think why I don’t get an answer to my telegram, from you. I think it most likely Mary will have left by the steamer of the 3d if not before. As soon as practicable after I hear, I shall start on a journey to Grass Valley and other mining districts, intending to come to San Francisco on time to meet her.

I finish this on the 5th.

I intend to write to Mary soon. (It is not a good plan for you to depend on Mary and Mary to depend on Mother to write about what you would write if you didn’t think they were going to).

Thank you for Littell & papers. They are worth a good deal here.