Records of a California Family - Pages 168-207



Page 168

Sarah reads pretty well and Chester is improving in his reading. They 
don't study as much as they will after Lewis has finished his recording. 
Since the city lots have been sold, there is a great deal of business to 
be done just now. Recording a lot costs three or four dollars. Here is 
Lizzie with pencil and paper. She says she has written, "Send my love to 
all my dear relations." She always insists on putting that in her prayer 
at night, and as she thinks that is the best part of her prayer, she puts 
it in three or four times before she is through. She has written more, "I 
send my dear love to you. We are in California and you can't see us." Now 
I must stop for this time. 

December 31. The last day of the year! I have been trying to think what we 
did a year ago tonight. I remember it was a Tuesday, and Hannah and Mary 
went to the Association meeting, and mother and I sat and read at the 
round table. 

It is quite cold here now, like November, and when it rains as it has 
done, almost every day for a week, it is rather dismal. Yet everybody 
looks happy, because rain is just what they want. I thought I should like 
the wet season better than the dry, but I do not. Clinton went by one day 
as I was sweeping the entry and said, "I once heard thee say thee liked 
mud better than dust." "Well, now I have seen the mud I am of another 
opinion." In the house mud turns to dust, and it is still dirt. Mud and 
dust, wet and dry, all dirt, though I sweep over and over. 

I write this as a supplement to my letter, which could not go in time for 
the steamer on account of the bad roads. The children are on tiptoe about 
celebrating New Year's Day. I saved some of their Christmas cakes, they 
had so many, 

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and shall give them to them tomorrow. We have some large "Brother 
Jonathans" that the expressmen sent, full of pictures for them. 

January 1, 1852. I wish you all a Happy New Year and many of them, and no 
doubt you have wished me the same in a letter which I shall have, if 
nothing happens, in six or eight weeks from now. 

The children have had a great day. They each found a twenty-five cent 
piece under their plates at breakfast. Lizzie jumped and danced with glee 
while she sang, "It is Happy New Year Day!" and Lewis and Sarah had a 
dance together before breakfast. Lizzie calls her money a "fipenny bit 
dollar." A few nights ago, after Sarah had been reading to her father, he 
gave her a ten cent piece. Lizzie was sitting in my lap, warming her feet 
before going to bed, and heard it all. She said to me, "I say 'little 
lamb.'" I took her in to bed and she seemed very sober; then she said, "I 
wondered and wondered why father did not give me a fipenny bit; he is a 
naughty man." Then I understood. When I told Lewis he went in and asked 
her to say "Little Lamb" and gave her a nickel, and she went to sleep with 
it in her hand. A few days ago I took out her little doll which Hannah 
packed in the trunk for her, and such a joyful time as she had; she danced 
about and her tongue went like a millrace. "It looks at me! It's glad to 
see me! See what a beautiful neck her has got!" She was in a great nip to 
have Lewis see it; so when he came up, he took it and hugged it and talked 
to it. She was delighted, and then she said, "It is not your doll; Aunt 
Hannah gave it to me on purpose." After she had played with it for a 
while, she was very willing for me to put it away. She said it must go to 
sleep. 

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I don't know whether I have told you that there are some good Anti-slavery 
and Temperance men here; there are many here of a different sort, lawyers 
and merchants who gamble and go to houses of ill fame and keep mistresses, 
mostly Mexican women. A judge here sold his house to some women who came 
here from San Francisco. It is in a part of town where many men live in 
their offices. The women have a man servant to clean their house, and they 
eat in a restaurant. The first few nights they were here they sent their 
servant Out with a drum to excite notice. But they have not been here long 
and we hear they are going away. Lewis says that the judge has hurt 
himself with the better people by selling to such women. He is a young 
man, not over thirty, and keeps an Indian woman himself. 

January 5, Monday. I washed the children's clothes today, and right in the 
midst of it, just as I had put the white clothes to scald, callers 
appeared, a lady and a gentleman. They came on horseback, he to see Lewis 
on business and she for the ride. They live on a ranch about ten miles 
away. She wore a very pretty red velvet hat with a feather in it, and a 
riding habit. She had a fat round face with dreadfully red cheeks and 
looked just like a country girl, which no doubt she was in New York State. 
She said she liked San Francisco. but where they lived now there were no 
families and she had seen only one woman in four months. She has three 
children, a cow, and a lot of chickens. Lewis was Out when they arrived 
and Mr. Christman brought them upstairs. I was in the kitchen. He left 
them in the entry and came in to me. I told him to put them in the sitting 
room and shut the door. Then I went into my room--and off with my wash 
sack, and on with my gown, and 

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down with my curls (for you must know I curl my hair as I did in 
Philadelphia; Lewis and the children think it the very best way of fixing 
it) and in I went to see them. They stayed over an hour. 

As the last letter was dated January, 1852, and the date of the next is 
October 17 of the same year, a number of the letters seem to have been 
lost. During the intervening months many changes had taken place in 
Sonora. 

The great fire which destroyed most of the houses and stores in the center 
of town occurred during this summer. I remember mother's telling us that, 
although our house was about two hundred feet away and the walls were of 
adobe, the heat was so great and the brands so dangerous, that they wet 
blankets and covered the roof. She said her lips became so parched that 
she could not drink and had to put her face into a basin of water to 
moisten them. 

My father was the owner of a drugstore, and had just brought a large stock 
of goods from San Francisco which had not yet been unpacked. They were 
carried into the street to what was supposed to be a safe distance, but an 
excited Mexican woman dragged a smoldering mattress close to them, and 
before it was discovered they were all destroyed. This loss seriously 
embarrassed my father for many years, as the drugs had been bought on 
credit. 

Two new men had joined the staff of the Herald, a Mr. Murray and a Mr. 
Washburn. The latter, a Maine man, had two brothers in Congress at that 
time, both of whom became Ministers to foreign countries, France and 
Russia. He himself was later Minister to Paraguay. The printing office was 
still in the house, and all the men were most considerate and kind to 
mother, especially when father was away. He was obliged to make frequent 
trips on his own business, as well as in the interest of public affairs of 
the county and State. A strong effort was being made about this time by 
men who had come from the South to introduce slavery in the State; some 
even wanted California to withdraw from the Union and to become an 
independent republic. All this father was fearlessly opposing in the 
Herald. 

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Beside managing the newspaper and the drugstore (in which he had a 
partner), and the office of County Recorder which he held, father had 
become associated with a Mr. Byrne who was promoting the building of a 
bridge across the Stanislaus River and a railroad to Stockton. This latter 
project, which would have been of immense advantage to Sonora, was not 
accomplished until many years later, long after we had moved to San 
Francisco. 

Mother would have been very lonely, had it not been for the children and 
the fact that she was much more busy than she had ever been in her life 
before. She had come to know a few women; but while they were kind 
neighbors, none of them were women of education, and she must have missed 
sadly the companionship of relatives and friends in Philadelphia. 

A Methodist church had been built but it was on the other side of town; 
the older children went to Sunday School and mother to church when the 
weather was fair. I have heard mother say that the men sitting in front of 
the tents and saloons often rose and stood as she passed with father and 
the children on their way up the long street on Sunday mornings. 

The minister had started a school which Chester attended. Two ladies had 
come at different times with the purpose of teaching but had decided that 
there were not enough children to support a school. Mother's sister, Mary 
Stickney, was thinking of coming to California, and mother longed for her 
to do so, expecting her to live in our home and teach the children and 
other little girls. 

SONORA, October 17, 1852 

DEAR MOTHER, H. AND M.: 

I sent a long letter to you, with one to Peter enclosed, about a week ago. 
It is Sunday, but we did not go to meeting and I have been reading your 
letters to the children about the rings. They are much pleased to hear 
about them, and Douglas says you must not think that the gold was all 
picked up in the "toms," which is a very easy way of getting gold, but a 
good deal of it was dug and washed out in 

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a tin pan, much of it by him, and some of it by Chester, and a little by 
Sarah. The smaller part was found in the "toms." He wants you to know that 
it was "got by hard work," so I have endeavored to satisfy him. When Mr. 
Martin goes home, I mean to send the gold which the children have gotten 
for my ring and have it made in Philadelphia. 

Lewis and I have not made you our present yet, and I don't dare say when 
it will come; but I hope by the time the railroad is done, we shall be 
able to make it. And that will be in about a year, Mr. Byrne and Lewis 
think. 

Last Sunday Lewis saw in a San Francisco paper that the Steamship Cortez, 
with his brother George O. Gunn as surgeon, had arrived in port. We have 
just had a letter that he will not be able to come up to see us this time, 
but we hope he will next time. He will sail between San Francisco and 
Panama. We want to see him very much. 

It is quite warm still--I can't endure a fire except to cook with and it 
is the middle of October. Mr. Deal has given up his school; I wish Mary 
could have it. He had only six pupils but there are more children here 
now. He asked five dollars a month for little ones, and that is considered 
low. A Scotch family has just come with six children, two girls of twelve 
and fourteen; there will be plenty for a good school in another year. 

Do write me how you preserved tomatoes. I sliced some, and boiled them a 
very short time, and boiled down the syrup a long time. I put some sliced 
oranges in too, and Lewis thinks they are fine. Our Mexican friend sent me 
ten pounds of tomatoes for a present, a dollar's worth! The reason for his 
sending so much was that he feels grateful because Lewis doesn't charge 
him as the other doctors do. 

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He is far superior to most of the Mexicans here. His wife is dead and his 
daughter of twelve does the work. She came with her brother today to have 
a tooth out, a little bit of a girl with a round fat face, very dark and 
as plain as a pikestaff. The boy is quite pretty for a Mexicano. There is 
another girl who "lives out" in town. 

Mr. Martin was here a few days ago and brought some quartz full of gold. 
He thinks he is "coming to it now sure," and I hope he is, poor fellow. 
His quartz mine has not been what he expected "by a long shot." It takes a 
great deal of money to work a quartz mine, and a poor man cannot do it. He 
has worked very hard and made little or nothing. Even on Sundays he looks 
like "Time in the Primer," no coat, a rough-dry shirt when he wears a 
white one, often with big holes, and hat and shoes to match, but he is as 
honest as the day is long, and always has a little to help a friend, as 
Lewis has often had occasion to prove. 

Lewis has gone this evening to the "Sons of Temperance." He is the first 
officer of the society, formed a short time since by the best and most 
intelligent of the young men in Sonora. Douglas and Chester belong to a 
temperance society too. They go once in a while to the meetings with Mr. 
Snow. 

October 24, Sunday. Yesterday we received a letter from Peter and his 
wife. They call their baby Minnie. I should much prefer "Mollie" but I 
shan't write them so. She is perfection, "a perfect LeBreton in everything 
but temper," the baby's being the sweetest, most mild and pleasant ever 
imagined. Now isn't that a compliment to her husband! Peter's practice 
seems to be good; he is very contented and writes in a lively way. Thinks 
the flour from the 

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mill he is interested in will sell at three dollars a barrel. We should 
have to give nearly fifty dollars if we could get a barrel. I hope the new 
supply will come in soon. If Peter could only get his flour here without 
great expense, he would soon make a fortune! 

You have of course read Sumner's and Mann's speeches. Lewis read them to 
me and I enjoyed them very much. I suppose exception will be taken to the 
Washington part of Sumner's and to the war part of Mann's, by a certain 
set, but for my part I enjoyed every single word of both. Did you? 

I went to meeting this morning with the children. Mary R. says she doesn't 
like the Methodists because they are so noisy. Here we don't usually have 
any noise, only "amens," but today one man made a sound that I can't 
describe, only it was awful! The children have just come in from Sunday 
School, and they are fixing a chicken coop into a house for a little dog 
which a man brought for them while they were away. He says it can be 
trained to catch rats; it is only five weeks old now. 

November 2. Election Day here, and a warm day it is, too warm for a fire. 
We had a whole day of showers last week and it was most delightful. I took 
a good long walk with Sarah and Lizzie and there was no dust at all; how I 
wished you could have been with us. But although it looks like rain now, 
it is already dusty again. I am very busy making aprons for Sarah. I long 
more and more to see that box. "Won't I be glad!" as Lizzie says. 

I had a dried apple pudding for dinner, but my apples have a smoky taste 
and, though I used part peaches, that taste was still there. Tomatoes are 
down to eight cents a 

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pound now. I often make pie of half ripe ones, and they are quite good but 
not so good as fresh apples. Melons are plenty now. Chester had a nice 
nutmeg melon given him today. I am going to bake some more pies tomorrow 
and I expect to be nearly all day doing it, on account of my poor stove. 
We have had an iron pump put in our well--thought you would like to know. 
We had a large salmon last week that cost $2.50, and we ate it for three 
days. I boiled and fried it. 

Sunday afternoon. The children, except Lizzie, have gone to Sunday School 
with Mr. Snow's brother, and Lewis and Mr. Snow have gone to attend a 
meeting at Columbia, five miles away. 

I must tell you more about the election. You must know that the Whigs had 
no doubt of winning and used all means, handsome and unhandsome, to 
accomplish it. They had tickets printed with the names of the people they 
intended to vote for, and so had the Democrats. Well, the Slavery Party, 
composed of both Whigs and Democrats, took Out the names on both tickets 
of those who were for reform and against gambling and slavery, and put in 
those who were for these things, and expected to carry it that way. The 
"entire Democratic" ticket was called the Gunn ticket, and that one it was 
determined should not be carried in Tuolumne County. But contrary to their 
expectation, the "entire" was carried; and the Whigs are crestfallen, and 
the "Slavites" feel mad, and more than mad. All, friends and foes, say Dr. 
Gunn has done it through his influence. Lewis says he has been cursed 
before, but never at the rate he was cursed last Monday--Election Day. Of 
course, his friends are delighted. Before election many 

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would come to him and say. "What office are you going to run for, Doctor?" 
"None, I don't want any." They would have voted for him gladly if he had. 
These were working men, and they know he is a friend of theirs. Coffroth 
goes to the State Senate, and Wilson, who came here from Newburyport, goes 
to the Assembly. Everything was tried, to prevent it, by Whigs and 
Slavites. They are both young men, not over twenty-five. * 

I do not know whether it was at the time of this election (November, 1852) 
or at a later one, that father said he knew his life was in danger. One 
night when going home quite late, he felt that he was followed. He walked 
on for a time and then faced about; then he heard a man say, "It's all 
right, Doctor, I just thought I would walk along to see you safe home." It 
was a man of known desperate character, but he admired father's courage 
and wanted to have fair play. After that, for some time, he came every 
evening to the drugstore and walked home with him. 
We have our stove up in our parlor, all ready for a fire; we have had 
several cold days and our evenings are quite cold. 

Last evening the "Alleghanians" gave a concert and we all went, from the 
oldest to the youngest. It was delightful, and I enjoyed it very much, and 
so did the children. As for Lizzie, she understood it as well as anybody, 
was wide awake, and went from one gentleman to another during the time, to 
sit in their laps. They would ask her questions. She told them she could 
sing "Little angels in a ring" and "Be you to others kind and true." We 
did not get home till ten o'clock or after, and Lizzie sung herself to 
sleep. She is a little darling, so good-natured and happy. Of course she 
is not a Le Breton! 

I have made the girls some sacks out of the green camlet, like the gown of 
mother's I had and wore at sea. I made them Out of the pieces you gave me, 
and they look very well. I wore my striped silk and white shawl to the 
concert. 

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Monday, November 15, 1852 

DEAR FOLKS: 

I sent you a letter last Friday, and as I am all alone tonight, I thought 
it a good time to begin another. 

There is a scientific lecture tonight, one of a series of three, and Lewis 
has gone and taken the boys. It is too muddy for me, and the rain is now 
pouring down. I went to the other two and was very much interested. The 
man is a Methodist minister, one of the few highly educated ones, and I 
never heard a more eloquent speaker. I never attended concerts and 
lectures as I have done since I came here! The folks are talking about a 
Lyceum and I hope one will be formed; it will be something to draw the 
young men from the gambling places and houses of ill fame which abound 
here. The reason we go to everything good is to set an example. 

I washed and ironed today; it rained, but my clothes were Out early, up 
garret, and so dried tolerably well, and I am glad washing is over. Did 
you say that today, mother? If you did, I am sure H. said, "So am I," and 
Mollie, "I am sure I am!" 

I wonder if it is Thanksgiving next week Thursday. Lewis says it will be, 
but it is only a guess; we have seen nothing in the papers yet. I shall 
make my pumpkin into pies on Tuesday to be ready. 

It is not very cold yet. You would call it warm. I can not sit with the 
door shut when we have a fire. I want to see that box--the children talk 
about it more than ever-and I want to come home for Thanksgiving! Good bye 
for now. 

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November 20, Saturday. We have had heavy rains lately and the roads are 
awful. Freight has risen almost double, and in consequence of the fires at 
San Francisco, Sacramento, and Marysville, and of the speculators holding 
back the flour, it has risen to the enormous price of sixty dollars a 
barrel, and it is said by those who know that it is likely to rise to one 
hundred dollars. We bought a barrel tonight and paid sixty dollars for it; 
three weeks ago it was only forty dollars. Don't you want to live in 
California? Parson Deal keeps boarders and his wife told me that they use 
a barrel every three weeks. I wish Peter could send some of his and get it 
here now ! 

Lewis has gone to the first meeting of the Lyceum. He had the constitution 
to draw up. The children are all washed and in bed. They are getting ready 
for Christmas, picking up junk bottles, of which great quantities are 
thrown out of the shops and houses. They sell them to a Frenchman who 
lives just above us and makes syrups. He gives them twenty-five cents a 
dozen, and I think they have sold five dollar's worth. And they pick up 
every bit of gold they see. They want to get me a little box of raisins, 
so I told them they could get it for the family on Thanksgiving. It is to 
be next Thursday, and I expect we will have chicken pie and a boiled plum 
pudding. I will write you all about it and I expect to hear all about 
yours. We are hoping that the box will be here at Christmas, and that the 
freight will be lower when it comes, and that the weather will be dry. 

November 28, Sunday. Lewis and the boys have gone to meeting and Sarah and 
Lizzie are singing. Lizzie sings all the time, night and day, except when 
she is asleep. We have a book of the "Songs of the Alleghanians," and she 

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and Sarah have learned some of them. I wish they could be taught, 
especially Lizzie. 

Now I must tell you about Thanksgiving. I baked six pumpkin and two 
cranberry pies on Wednesday. The berries came from Oregon and were good, 
but small. They are two dollars a gallon. I put currants in the pumpkin 
pies and they were very nice, but not like yours, because I cannot afford 
the milk and eggs and our hens do not lay now. I also made a boiled bread 
pudding with raisins in it. On Thanksgiving Day I baked a "rooster pie," 
and Lewis and the children said it was delightful. We spoke of you and 
wondered of course what you were doing. The children sat up till eight. 
Mr. Sullivan brought some English papers full of pictures, and they looked 
them over, and Lewis told them stories, and they enjoyed themselves 
highly, and so did we all. 

Mr. Byrne is going to England. He has come into possession of some 
property and it must be large, as he says he can put one or two hundred 
thousand dollars into the railroad. He is often in town, but he had not 
been to see me for sometime until last night. He says the bridge will be 
ready to travel over next spring. Old Mr. Appleton is going home to 
Philadelphia next March and I shall send by him. It was he who brought us 
the cake last Thanksgiving. 

December 2, Thursday evening. We have had some powerful rains. One wooden 
house was carried off and a man was drowned trying to save things in it. 
The roads are dreadful. It is "hard times" in the mines. Flour is forty 
dollars a hundred pounds here, but in some places it costs one hundred 
dollars. It is hard times with us, too. Lewis says, had it not been for 
the fire, he would have been worth 

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twenty thousand dollars more than he is now; business has not yet come to 
be what it was before. The worst of it is, he cannot sell his lots because 
there is no demand for real estate just now although it is constantly 
increasing in value. I did hope that this Christmas we could send a 
present home, and Lewis and I have talked it over. But at present we only 
live. Provisions have not been so high for three years, and some things 
were never so high before. The children think their Christmas will be very 
small and I think so too. They wish that box would come! 

Our printers are here still. I hoped they would be out by this time, but 
the lumber for their building has not all come. I roasted a piece of beef 
today, but it had to be in the oven so long, it did not taste good. If my 
stove could be downstairs so that my stovepipes could be in the chimney, 
it would have a good draft. Our chimney draws, rain or shine. This stove 
in the sitting room gets so hot I have to open the door. 

I wish I could bring Lizzie to Philadelphia while she is little and 
cunning. She is as bright and full of fun as she can be. When I ironed 
this week she wanted to help, so I gave her Sarah's little iron and she 
did two towels and all the stockings, mounted on a little chair. I had two 
new shirts for Lewis and it was hard ironing, so I took but little notice 
of her. At last she said, "I am a great ironer, and I tell you, marm, here 
are some holes for you to mend." If she had been ninety, she could not 
have spoken Out more like an old head. Sarah came in with her sewing and 
Lizzie said, "I shall iron your stockings, Sally." "No, you shan't," said 
Sally. "Why not?" said I. "You are helping me make a nightgown for 
Lizzie." "Oh," said Lizzie, "to speak so 

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to your little sister, and the only sister you have!" At last Sarah gave 
up and let her iron them. The rain has washed Out some gold and the boys 
have found about a dollar's worth. Sarah says, "I want to go too, and find 
some 'oro,'" but it is too muddy. Sarah's hair is getting long and thick 
and curls elegantly, and Lizzie's grows in little curls around her face. 
Mr. Byrne sat and looked at her and said, "Did you ever see such a 
beautiful child!" She is so good-natured that she is always smiling. 

I believe I have not told you that we often have clams. Yes, real old-
fashioned Massachusetts Clams, put up in air-tight tin cans in Boston, and 
oysters too, from Baltimore. I put a good deal of water to them and some 
butter, and thicken with flour, and they are very nice indeed. So Molly, 
if you come to California, I will give you Eastern clams and oysters, and 
either Eastern or California salmon as you please. But I think you will 
wait awhile longer; and I would advise you to, at least "till the pigeons 
have eaten the mud Out of the streets" as they used to tell us when we 
were little and wanted to go to grandma's. On Friday night the children 
were bringing up wood, and Lizzie as busily as any of them but she must 
sing one of the songs: 

"The sounds of busy labor I love, 
I love them all!" 

Quite appropriate! Another she loves and sings over and over: 

"I asked a sweet robin, one morning in May, 
That sang in the apple tree over the way. 

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And now she is in bed singing: 

"There's a good time coming, boys, 
Coming right along. 
So come along, come along, feel no alarm; 
Uncle Sam is rich enough to give us all a farm!" 

I forgot to tell you that at Thanksgiving I had a present of a bottle of 
mixed pickles from a Mr. Morse who keeps a grocery store below us. So I 
sent him a piece of pumpkin pie. He lives behind the store and does his 
own cooking. Chester left it and went on with Douglas to take some to Mr. 
Washburn. As he came back he said Mr. Morse was eating it and called him 
in to take the saucer, and said it was the best pie he had eaten in 
California. The boys were much pleased. 

December 6, Monday. This is the first sunshiny day for a week, like an 
Eastern April day. I had quite a large wash, but I got up early and had it 
out by eleven. It is so warm, the grass is springing up all over the 
hillside, but no planted seeds could stay in the ground, the rains are so 
hard; it comes down in pailfuls, and the mud is literally knee deep; the 
men wear boots over their knees. The children are busy bringing stones, 
and Lewis spreads them out before the house. They are earning money for 
Christmas. They have now about six dollars, and that will not buy what 
three would at home. Flour is seventy dollars now! 

December 12, Sunday evening. Last Thursday evening, when I was deep in 
Uncle Tom's Cabin, Lewis came home and, sitting down by the fire, asked me 
to get him the scissors and turn my chair around. I told him he could have 
the scissors but I could not leave my book for anything. But he 

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insisted, and so I had to give up, and what should he want to do but open 
a bundle sent from you by the Deacon! I forgot Uncle Tom and read no more 
that evening. We opened and read and looked over all our notions, but we 
left the children's just as you did them up for Christmas. Is it not funny 
to have had something from you, last year and this, just at the right 
time! You sent the letters last year, and they knew nothing about it till 
Christmas Day. They all have secrets and we have told them we have one, 
too, but they have no idea what it is. I am much obliged to you, Hannah, 
for that muslin-delaine; and Gen'l Pierce's life is a very good one I 
think; it expresses my views exactly. I shall put the pictures in the 
stockings. We enjoyed everything and the letter the most; and now we look 
for another, but the mail due a week ago has not come yet. I shall not 
make my gown till the box comes. I have a lot of sewing on hand now: two 
pair of trousers for Chester, and a jacket for each of the boys, a dress 
for each of the girls, and under-clothes and aprons; it is likely to 
remain on hand for some time to come. I will do up my mending regularly, 
because I hate to "see a hole and let it go," thanks to my mother! 

I baked yesterday. I had some carrots and took it into my head to make 
some carrot pies, and we liked them better than squash or pumpkin without 
eggs, and I had no eggs. I made some raised cake and some dried apple 
pies, too. We have some excellent dried apples now. I have a notion to 
make mince pies with them. They may not be as good as mother's, but they 
will do for California; I don't expect the children will boast of their 
mother's pies! Douglas sometimes asks me if I remember yours. It troubles 
me greatly that my oven is so slow. I hate poking! I often make flap-
jacks, 

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and considering that I have no rye and have to use only flour, they are 
excellent, and we all love them. 

Lewis is going to San Francisco next week on business about the railroad. 
Flour last week was eighty dollars a barrel. I detest these speculators! 
We use a great many potatoes, and put them into cakes and flapjacks, and 
it is a great improvement. I don't use lard when I use potatoes. Potatoes 
and carrots are fourteen cents a pound, and beets are ten cents, dried 
apples are twenty-five. Freight from San Francisco to Stockton is ten 
cents a pound. 

I almost forgot to tell you how I came to have Uncle Tom's Cabin. Murray 
went to San Francisco two weeks ago, and when he returned he brought books 
for all the children and Uncle Tom for me. They were delighted, and I no 
less so. I had seen parts of it in the Era ; I read it all and enjoyed it. 
Only sometimes I got quite mad at the d----s of slaveholders, and of 
course I had to do some crying and no little laughing. I finished it last 
night. I can't read one word in daytime. The children's books were a 
natural history for Douglas, and stories for Chester, Tom Thumb for Sarah, 
and Little People's A B C for Lizzie. The title takes her fancy and she 
says it over and over. It is full of pictures and in her eyes is the most 
beautiful of all. Sarah loves to read very much, would rather read any 
time than sew or knit. 

When it does not rain, the sun is quite hot. No wonder the Mexicans who 
live in tents, love to sit in the sun with their mantles over their heads; 
it is far warmer than inside. But while it is like April here, it is 
really December up in the mountains. Two months ago I saw that two men had 
frozen to death, and a week ago a whole train of mules were frozen. The 
snows are very deep. 

Page 186

December 13, 1852, Monday. Well, I have got through with my washing, and 
as it was a small one and a pleasant day, I ironed, and aired them all, 
and put them away. I heard last night that Christman was married; Clint 
Atkins had a paper from him. A Freeman, two Eras, and a lot of Suns have 
come by this mail, but no letter from you. I shan't see as many papers 
when the printers have moved. How I want to hear all about your 
Thanksgiving, all that you had and did, etc. 

December 18, Friday evening. Last Tuesday it turned very cold and snowed, 
and Wednesday the ice on our balcony did not melt all day. It snowed 
considerably through the day and all the night. Lewis left that morning 
for Stockton; he and I got up before five and made a fire and boiled some 
chocolate. The stage came about six, and by that time all the children 
were up and dressed to see father off. They sent lots of "secrets," 
together with Some money to buy them with. Such whisperings as they had, 
and such secret consultations days before; I cannot tell you the amount of 
business Lewis has to do for the "Young Gunns," as Washburn calls them! He 
will be absent about ten days. 

Now it is pouring rain. The snow is gone, except a few spots on the higher 
hills. It was beautiful when hills and trees were white. I am glad I 
washed Monday, the only pleasant day this week. What can the people do who 
live in tents, when it blows and rains so? Those who are sick are almost 
sure to die. A man who lived in one not far from us died of smallpox. He 
was getting well, but when the rain came he caught cold. He had a wife and 
five children in Iowa. The neighbors did all they could for him. 

Page 187

December 20, 1852, Sunday evening. Our rain is not yet over; it is the 
greatest one that has been known for years. The whole second story of the 
Masonic Hall is in ruins. The roof fell with it. The first story was built 
of adobe and the second of brick. The rain melted the adobes and they 
sunk, and down fell the brick. One side of Dodge's new house has fallen 
in, and a number of others, and some of the wooden houses near the creek; 
the water runs a clean sweep through them. I was afraid our chimney would 
go, but the men say they do not think it will. The bricks here are not 
half burned, not at all like the bricks you have. If this rain continues I 
am sure our chimney is in great danger. I wish Lewis were at home. 

Mr. Sullivan brought me some papers, and he says flour is one hundred 
dollars a barrel. Our box could not get here if it were in San Francisco. 
If it only gets here safe at last, I am quite willing it should still be 
on the water, as there is no storage to pay. 

I have made my mince meat for pies. Douglas had been at me to make some 
for Christmas, so I said I would; and off he went and bought me a wooden 
bowl and chopping knife (they cost three dollars). I boiled the meat the 
day before and put the dried apples to soak. I got up early to go to work, 
but Douglas heard me and he was determined to help, and soon all of the 
children were on hand, long before daylight. I divided the meat and 
apples, and the boys had it chopped before breakfast. When I mixed it, I 
put in some lime juice to make it tart, and Mr. Morse, the man who sent me 
the pickles, Sent me a large cup of sweet cider "to give it a good taste," 
so he will have to have some pie. On Saturday our stove drew well, and I 
baked seven mince 

Page 188

pies. Wonder of wonders! Douglas said they tasted exactly like Mamma 
Wright's, only that they had not half enough raisins. I had some currants 
and I put them in. I made enough mince for two bakings, and have some put 
away in a jar which I shall use for Christmas. 

To show you how bad the roads are here, the stage which left Sonora Friday 
morning for Stockton did not return until this afternoon, and they usually 
come back the same day. I am afraid Lewis is having a time of it. His 
expenses are paid for the trip. I am going now to read Joseph Parker's 
sermon on Daniel Webster. 

December 22, 1852, Wednesday. Our rain stopped last Sunday night, and the 
sun shone Out bright and clear all day Monday, greatly to my astonishment, 
so I had another good wash day. I hung my clothes on the balcony and got 
them all dried and ironed, and most of them aired and put away, before 
dark, and baked a shortcake for supper. So I "washed, ironed, and baked in 
one day," but I did not "make soap." On Tuesday I sat down nearly all day, 
and what do you think I did e I made our Lizzie a gown complete, before I 
went to bed (at half past twelve) out of the pieces of muslin-delaine that 
Hannah sent me by the colored deacon. And it is a beauty. I got it out 
nicely and have one of the small pieces left, to mend it with. I think I 
am smart! You see she had worn her old one almost all to pieces, and 
besides, it was too small. She will be delighted with Aunt Hannah's 
Christmas present. She does not know that it is finished, and I have put 
it away till Christmas Day. 

When I woke this morning, the ground was white, and it snowed until noon. 
I made the rest of my mince meat into 

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pies. I have seven. One is for the office men and Lizzie is to take it 
down, and Sarah is to take them some little cakes with currants in them. I 
made a little pie for Wilson's Mexican friend, Emanuel; he often brings 
little notions for the children. I did not get through baking until almost 
dark. The boys and Sarah made up a sled, which a carpenter fixed for them, 
and they had a grand time while the snow lasted. But it is already gone, 
and now the mud is "a circumstance and a caution." It is so deep in the 
road, before our house, that the baker's horse sank right down into it, up 
to his back, and it took a dozen men to get him out. And one man got the 
wheels on one side of his team into the hole yesterday and had to unload 
before he could right It. Oh, California is a delightful country and no 
mistake! Such rains have not been known for years. But the snow has not 
been more than six inches deep. Tomorrow I mean to mend stockings. I 
brought some grey yarn from Philadelphia and had enough to knit two pair 
of socks for each of the boys. I wish I had some more and could foot the 
legs of some of Lewis'. The socks we buy are miserable, and I am always 
mending. I shall cover up my fire and go to bed; it is ten o'clock. 

Christmas Day, Saturday. And Lewis has not got home! I think the bad roads 
must be the reason. Before I tell you about our doings, I must say that 
your letter of November 17 was my Christmas present, and glad I was to 
have It. The rain has been coming down by gallons, and snow too, ever 
since I wrote you on Wednesday. Thursday I sat and mended, and Friday I 
cleaned house, and fixed my pudding and boiled a piece of corned beef, and 
sat down to rest. After the boys had taken their baths, which they 
proposed 

Page 190

to do themselves, I let them all dress up and go down with some cakes and 
a pie to the men in the office. Then they took small pies to Emanuel and 
to Allic, a colored man who works near us. Both are having a very hard 
time now everything is so high. Then they took one to Washburn, who gave 
them your letter which he just got at the post office, and to Morse and 
Mr. Pasture, our grocer. Mr. Pasture gave them nuts and raisins and maple 
sugar. 

I bathed the girls, and they went to bed and right to sleep. No singing 
tonight, because Kriskringle was expected and he might not like to hear 
them talking and singing. But first Sarah hung up their stockings. Then as 
father had not come, and he wished us to wait for the gifts till New 
Year's if he did not get here, I let the boys fill the girls' stockings 
and their own with their nuts and maple sugar and some little cakes I had 
baked. They would fill one for me too. Douglas had fixed a very pretty 
little pine tree and they hung the stockings on it, and a doll which Sarah 
had made and dressed for Lizzie with my help (I painted the face one night 
when all were in bed), and a pair of garters I had knitted for Sarah. I 
forgot to say that Sullivan sent me up four large pigeons which had been 
given to him, and I made them into a pie for our Christmas dinner. The 
boys picked them for me very nicely. I boiled them first but could not use 
the gravy-it was bitter because the pigeons eat the bitter acorns. So I 
had to make more gravy with water. As my dish was large I added some very 
tender beef. Part of the pigeon meat tasted bitter but most of it was 
good. 

Christmas morning I rose before five and made the fire and got things 
under way. Douglas wanted to help me, and he cleaned and cut up the 
pigeons and did it very well for 

Page 191

a child. After breakfast, he invited us into the "party room," and there 
Sarah saw the doll, which she had put under Lizzie's pillow, on the tree. 
She was delighted. She thinks a great deal of it, because she made and 
stuffed it herself, and made the clothes, all to take off and put on. And 
after each stocking was turned inside out, an operation of a very serious 
nature, and they had all tasted and laughed and talked, all of us sitting 
around the tree, the boys went out to have a slide, as the snow was fast 
melting away. Sarah put on her father's boots, and tucked in her trousers, 
and pinned up her gown, and put on a coat of Chester's, and off she went 
as much of a boy for fun and sport as the others. Lizzie did not think of 
going out. She was so taken up with Maggie, the new doll, and round the 
house she trolled with her and her old doll under her arms, talking all 
the time to them. She put them to sleep, and gave them some raisins, etc. 

At about half past one we had our dinner. I sent some of the pigeon pie 
and some of the pudding and sauce down to the men. Murray and his brother 
do their own cooking, but Sullivan and Myrick go to the restaurant. After 
dinner I enjoyed reading your letter while the children played, and when 
we lighted the lamp I read it to them and they began letters to you. We 
talked about you and father and "old times," and the girls went to bed; 
and the boys sat a while longer and had some apple pie, and then they went 
to bed. I shall have this all ready to send to you tomorrow. Goodnight. 

Page 192

Thursday, December 30, 1852 

DEAR FOLKS: 

I sent you a long letter on last Monday, having missed the mail two weeks 
before. Lewis is not yet at home. The stages cannot cross the creeks, we 
have had such constant rains. I suppose he arrived in Stockton last 
Friday. When the stages do run it is very hard and dangerous. They have to 
walk the horses most of the way, on account of the mud, and the passengers 
have to get in and out constantly. The children are almost Out of 
patience--no real Christmas, and now most likely no New Year! Sarah said 
tonight, when she went to bed, "Well, we will keep my birthday (February 
24) if father doesn't come!" Lizzie thinks she must have the spoon mother 
sent her, to eat with, so I let her have it. She has heard the other 
children read their initials on theirs, and you would laugh to hear her 
read hers. She will take it up with a very grave face, holding it in one 
hand, and with her finger pointing to the letters, will begin, "Lizzie Le 
Breton Gunn from Mamma Wright. I send you this, Lizzie, because----" and 
then she goes on with one thing after another, just as it comes into her 
head. "Is all that on your spoon, Lizzie? "Oh, yes," she says. Several 
times lately she has asked me, "How long shall we live, mother" "I don't 
know," I answer. "Well, we will know when we die, won't we, mother Q and 
we want to go to Philadelphia first!" 

Only think, in all this rain we have had clear Mondays and I have been 
able to wash and iron the same day. I see things of my neighbors hanging 
Out in the rain, and how dismal they look! 

Page 193

The printers have moved to the new office and it seems so quiet in the 
evenings. I fasten up, but it is very lonely. However, I have Philadelphia 
Suns and Freemans to read and plenty of sewing to do. Today I baked apple 
pies; the children like them at our three o'clock dinner but I get tired 
of them. I still have four mince pies which the children want me to keep 
until father comes. My stove bakes worse than ever this rainy weather. Mr. 
Sullivan has just come in. I open the door for him, and he lights his 
candle and goes right upstairs to bed. He says no stages have come in 
today. I hope they will get through tomorrow! Lewis wrote that he might 
have to go to Europe next month. I shall write all about it if he does. I 
do long for him to get home! I must stop and go to bed. 

January 2, 1853, Sunday afternoon. I wish you all a Happy New Year! Lewis 
got home yesterday. I was really not expecting him, as Sullivan told me 
all the bridges were washed away and the river too high for crossing. The 
warm weather we have had for a week has melted the snow on the mountains, 
and with the rains, the rivers have overflowed and flooded the lowlands. 
At Stockton the steamboats go up into the middle of the town and are tied 
to the awning posts. Lewis got over the river in a small boat, and he rode 
some miles on the bare back of one of the stage horses; sometimes the 
water would come up to his waist and the horse would swim. Then he had to 
walk sixteen miles with a pack on his back, a very thick coat, and a long 
heavy pair of boots, and when he got here he looked thoroughly worn Out. 
It was a warm, damp day. 

When Lewis had bathed and changed his clothes, and I had finished my work, 
we had dinner, about two o'clock. 

Page 194

You can imagine how happy the children were. We had put in their stockings 
the things you sent, and Lewis and the boys filled them up. And after 
dinner we all sat around the table and opened our gifts. Lizzie was so 
delighted with hers, you could almost have heard her laugh in 
Philadelphia. She calls her new dress her "beauty frock." The boys had 
books, and Lewis brought them each a pair of trousers from the store, and 
Douglas a good thick overcoat which he needs very much and with which he 
was delighted, and they each had a folding pocket comb. Chester had a 
beautiful mahogany paint-box with eighteen different colors, and brushes, 
etc., the only one saved when the store was burned. This was to balance 
D's overcoat. Sarah and Lizzie each had a thimble and two or three books, 
and I do believe the packages from Philadelphia excited as much surprise 
and pleasure as anything they had-such a lot of questions about how and 
when they came. And such laughing when they found the pennies from Aunt 
Mary! The boys said they must send some money back, but it must be gold. 
In Lewis' stocking was a bottle of elegant looking preserved peaches, and 
a cocoanut which Douglas got, and a pair of mittens which Sullivan gave 
Douglas and he gave to his father because they were too large for him. I 
had a comb and brush and a bottle Of very nice scented water from the 
children, which their father had got from the store, and then a little 
black box with a beautiful gold thimble, which was the children's secret; 
their father had bought it with their money in San Francisco, and it cost 
seven dollars! Lewis gave me a copy of Cowper's Task. 

We may perhaps move to San Francisco as the directors of the railroad want 
Lewis to attend to the business there; 

Page 195

they will pay him well. He will try to sell his property here before 
going. It would be cheaper living there and better on many accounts. Lewis 
says he will not have to go to Europe, so I will not come to Philadelphia. 
He is gone to deliver a temperance lecture and the boys have gone with 
him. 

January 8, Friday. It is not quite a week since Lewis came home, and he 
started off again this morning on the railroad business and will be gone 
two or three weeks. Mr. Sullivan does not sleep here now, but Mr. Snow is 
coming over to sleep while Lewis is away. 

Last Tuesday evening Lewis delivered the opening lecture before the 
Lyceum. He had a sick headache all day but felt better in the evening. 
When we went, we called for Mrs. Mahen, the Irish woman who has such a 
large family of cats and dogs. She invited two of her neighbors to go 
(their husbands are mechanics). They were all dressed very well and one 
wore white kid gloves. The evening before I had retrimmed my straw bonnet 
for winter wear. What do you think I put on? I used a black velvet collar 
which came off my coat to make a new cape for my bonnet, and I cut some 
cross pieces of velvet and twisted them with some bright yellow ribbon and 
trimmed it, and put some in for face trimming. I think it looks right 
smart, and Lewis says it is very pretty. I decided to make some calls in 
it on Wednesday, but it rained so hard again I had to stay at home. And it 
has rained ever since. Lewis started off riding a mule, as he thought it 
was the safest way. January 16, 1853, Sunday. It is a delightful day and 
so was yesterday, the only bright days for a long time. I hope it will 
continue for there are hardly any provisions in town. Flour is seventy 
cents a pound, meal fifty, and rice sixty-two. 

Page 196

All the bakers, except two or three French ones, have stopped baking and 
the butchers have shut up shop. The roads are so bad the teamsters cannot 
get in, and if the rains continue, the men will have to leave town to save 
the provisions for the women and children, as has been the case in some 
places in the northern mines. I have a half a barrel of flour, about 
twenty pounds of meal, and half a barrel of potatoes, and nearly a whole 
ham. The ham cost seven dollars and is a large one. And on these we must 
live until provisions come in. I am not sorry Lewis is away, for things 
will last the longer, and I do not know what we shall do when there is 
nothing to live on. One butcher had some beef yesterday which he sold for 
sixty-two cents a pound. I am so glad we got our flour when we did, if we 
did pay sixty dollars for it. There are no crumbs wasted now! Last Sunday 
the miners around Sonora came in for provisions and were ready to buy up 
everything, but could not get any. One merchant said he could have sold 
five thousand dollars worth if he had had it. And another, whom Mr. Snow 
asked to save him a sack of cornmeal, said he could not promise, as the 
same thing had been asked him by at least a thousand persons in the last 
few days. Some live on potatoes, at thirty cents a pound, and some on meal 
only. I use all three--now some mush, and now some flour cakes, and then 
some potatoes, and now and then some ham. I baked my last mince meat 
yesterday, and I guess I shall not make any more for a time. I got some 
excellent honey at thirty-seven cents a pound, and I think it is cheap. 
There is no molasses to be had. I have sugar, and we can get milk every 
day. So we have mush and milk. In San Francisco flour is 

Page 197

only seventeen dollars a hundred, and here it is seventy dollars. 

We have heard that the box is in San Francisco. The ship got in about the 
first of the month, and it will cost four dollars or five dollars to keep 
it in storage, but it would cost at least thirty dollars to bring it up 
now. I believe I want to see it more than ever; it will be next to seeing 
you! 

I had a letter from Lewis two days after he left; he had not yet reached 
Stockton. He said the roads were better than when he came home--only once 
did he get into the mud. The mule sank up to its belly, and he had to pull 
it out, and, doing so, he went in with one leg up to his knee. 

A letter came from his brother Osgood, who is now in San Francisco. He 
said they had an awful time coming from Panama. Many of the passengers 
came on board the Cortez in a half-dying condition with ship-fever and 
cholera. Twenty-six died on the voyage. He was quite sick himself, and 
worn out, being the only doctor on the steamer. * 

Dr. George Osgood Gunn continued to be surgeon on the Cortez for nearly 
two years, when he contracted Panama fever, and died on his arrival at San 
Francisco, where he is buried in Lone Mountain Cemetery. 
The legislature has met, and Coffroth wrote Lewis that many of the members 
are trying to get a division of the State. I hope they will not succeed. 
Coffroth wants petitions to be circulated among the people that it may be 
prevented. I think Lewis will have some work to do when he returns, for 
the division won't take place without fighting. 

I am making aprons for the girls, Mary, out of the gingham you bought for 
me, by the patterns Peter's wife sent. She cut them so carefully, and 
basted them all together; never were any patterns taken more pains with. 
How do you make sleeves now, loose or tight? I see by Graham's 

Page 198

Magazine that "mutton leg" is to be the fashion. Maybe you can send me a 
little pattern or draw one in your next letter, and do send me some number 
six needles, too. 

This is the sixteenth of January and soit is my birthday. I'm sure I 
cannot tell whether it is the forty-second or forty-third, the latter I 
believe. Oh dear, how old I am! 

January 19, Tuesday. It has been very fine weather for three days, and I 
washed and ironed yesterday as usual. I had another letter from Lewis, and 
I will send it to you, that you may see how near he came to being
drowned.(*) I long to have him at home again, but as the weather has been 
so fine, he will not be in such danger coming back. 

(* This letter has not been preserved.)

This evening the boys and Sarah have gone with Mr. Murray to see a man 
perform like Senor Blitz. Lizzie has just gone to bed after having read a 
piece of poetry. She gets the book and sits down by me. I have learned by 
frequent repetition a good number of pieces by Mary Howitt, so I advise 
her to take that book and I repeat and sew and need not stop to look, as 
she does, keeping her finger on what she thinks is the place, often 
turning the leaves long before the page is all read. Tonight she wanted to 
take her rosy-cheeked doll, as she calls the one Sarah made for her, to 
bed with her. So having said her prayers, she lay down and said,' 'Now go 
to sleep, baby dear! There mother, she went to sleep so quick she had no 
time to say her prayers!" And now she is so still she must be asleep too. 

Some flour has been brought in on mules, and it is selling at forty cents 
a pound. 

January 24, 1853, Monday 

Lewis got home last Saturday, quite well notwithstanding his exposure. He 
found the 

Page 199

roads much better; but I may have to wait a month before the box can come. 
Sunday evening when Lewis was reading to the children from the Bible, 
Washburn came in and we were all delighted to see him. He has two brothers 
now in Congress. About 8 o'clock Mr. Snow came, as he still sleeps here, 
and, soon after, Murray brought some letters, right from the office. There 
was one from you to me, and one from Peter to Lewis, and one for Washburn, 
whom he was glad to find here, and one for himself. So we all sat down to 
read them. When I found Sarah's letter in mine, she had to take it around 
for all to see, and when she went to bed, she wrapped it in paper and put 
it under her pillow. 

Lewis must go again in a few days. How I wish you were here, Mollie. If 
you should come, what a time we would have! I will tell you what to bring-
every kind of winter and summer clothes that you have, and the best are 
those that do not need washing. I mean, when I can,to have a summer dress 
that does not need it. I had two muslins, one pink and one green. The 
green is now hardly fit to be seen; I wore it all last summer and the 
summer before, from August to cool weather. The pink I shall shine out in 
next summer (if I should live that long), and it is the only thin dress I 
have, and I must wear it every Sunday for three months, for it is so hot, 
I cannot endure anything thicker. Lewis will try in every way to send the 
money he owes to Burk by a friend who is going back to Philadelphia in 
March. He has been very hard pushed about money matters since the fire. We 
live as economically as we can. I do almost all our washing, only putting 
out sheets and shirts. I tell Lewis I wish the bridge and railroad were in 
operation, 

Page 200

for Burk's sake, and my sake, and all our sakes. I suppose, "What is to 
be, will be, if it never comes!" as Nabby Davis used to say. Poor Nabby, I 
wish I could send her something; it's a dreadfully hard lot to be poor! 

Business is not so good, the result of the heavy rains and the fire. Lewis 
has not been able to rent one side of the new store. People cannot come 
here this winter. Everybody says, "Only let the bridge and the railroad be 
built, and the teamsters and cars can take the produce to and from 
Stockton, and times will change." 

I wish more good people would come here, or that we could live somewhere 
within visiting distance of such people. Washburn told me about a Mrs. 
Chamberlain in Columbia, five miles away, a New England woman, once a 
teacher. Mr. C. came here three years ago and she came last month. He says 
I would like her, but I can't go there, and she doesn't come here; she 
could not in this weather. I must send this tonight. 

Sunday evening, February 27, 1853 

DEAR FOLKS: 

The children are in bed, and so I concluded to talk a bit with you. Mr. 
Snow left us last Wednesday and took a letter from me to you. How soon you 
will see him I cannot tell. I shall send this off to you as soon as we 
hear from the box. When Lewis came home from San Francisco last week, it 
was in Stockton, and he left orders for it to come by Adams Express as 
soon as possible. He waited here several days, but had to go to Benicia on 
Friday. Washburn or Sullivan will open it for me. Washburn sleeps here 
now. Lewis thinks the teamsters do not like to handle heavy boxes and that 
may be the cause of the delay. You are as 

Page 201

anxious about it as I am, I know, and I long to tell that it is here. But 
there is no use to worry, and I won't! 

I have been looking over my baby clothes and have found they are very few 
and very old. I have one little dress that you gave me, that was once my 
own, and one that I made for my first baby, and a little one with two 
ruffles round the bottom that I made for Lizzie, and I have nightgowns and 
petticoats and shirts. I cut out a little calico dress last Saturday, and 
Sarah and Lizzie both wonder for which of them it is to be. 

It rained all day yesterday and I feared the freight rates would rise, but 
it has been clear all day today, and the stars are Out tonight; I will 
hope it will last till the box comes and then it may rain and welcome. 

March 4, Saturday evening. Our box is not here yet, and I almost wonder if 
there is one after all. And no letter from Lewis either. I think it is 
strange. I shall have to get Murray to advertise "Strayed and stolen, a 
man and a box!" 

I have had company this evening, three ministers! I must tell you about 
it. Well, I had mixed some bread, cleaned my chamber and the sitting-room, 
bathed and dressed, and was about to hear the boys' geography, when a 
gentleman came walking up the stairs and introduced himself as Mr. Hunt. 
He said he and two other ministers had come to Sonora today to see if it 
were best to locate here. As Lewis is the great "Gunn" and in fact the 
only person to come to, now that Mr. Snow is gone, they didn't know what 
to do when they found that he was away. I told Mr. Hunt all I knew about 
Sonora and the people, and he said he would call this evening with "the 
brethren," and so they came and 

Page 202

spent an hour or more. They are to have the Methodist Church all day 
tomorrow, they say. They called on Mr. Deal and seemed quite pleased with 
him. We talked about gold, the price of provisions, the people, etc. They 
are all antislavery, at least in a measure, I should think. One of them, 
Mr. Bell, has lived seven years in Kentucky and knew Mr. Fee and Cassius 
M. Clay very well. I don't often have company, but today it rained 
parsons. I should for once like to hear a parson who is not a Methodist. 
It is so warm that I have no fire now. 

March 6, Monday evening. My head feels light, and I hardly know whether I 
am on my heels or my head, and I doubt if the children do, after today's 
excitement. But I must go back to yesterday first. I went to meeting, and 
as I passed Mrs. Yaney's, it occurred to me that she might like to hear 
these "brethren," so I ran up her stairs and told her about them, and she 
said she would go with me in the afternoon. Mr. Hunt preached in the 
morning and a capital sermon we had. Just as I left Mrs. Yaney's a young 
man from the post office ran after me with a letter. It was from Lewis, 
and he said when he got to Stockton the box had left some days before, and 
he supposed it had reached Sonora. Well, I set it down at once that it was 
lost. I sent Douglas to Adams Express, but they knew nothing! So I 
concluded to let the matter rest, as I could not do anything else, and 
went to meeting and took Mrs. Y. and Lizzie. Of course we talked and 
thought and felt about the box till we went to bed and slept it off as 
much as we could. And this morning I was up bright and early, and washed, 
and was all through the cleaning, when Chester ran up, saying, "The box is 
come!" I did not believe it, but I looked out of the 

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window and there sure enough was the wagon, and Washburn with it, and 
Douglas crying "Hurrah! here's the box," as loud as he could, and the 
girls running Out the door--all hands on deck! Washburn got the hammer, 
and opened it and hurried away, after paying the man. It came to thirty 
dollars, the freight from Stockton, and I think from New York to San 
Francisco it was about twelve! 

Well, such a noise; it was real Bedlam! The children took out everything 
except the stove. That is broken in two places, one in front and one on 
the bottom, but I think it can be mended. We minded your directions about 
unpacking. I have had them in my upper drawer and looked them over now and 
then, ever since the box reached San Francisco. The kettle of apples and 
the box of gingerbread came out very nice. All the pots and kettles were 
carried upstairs, and the boiler was carried into the sitting room, and I 
sat in a chair beside it and Douglas took out the things, the others 
standing around and making original remarks. I only wish you could have 
looked in and heard them. They had been carried away before with all they 
saw, but now, such a time! It was "Oh see this!" and "See that !"-I must 
look at everything at once. When she saw the cradles with the dolls and 
the bureau and little dishes, "Oh such a Mamma Wright and Aunt Mary and 
Aunt Hannah!" said Lizzie. The girls knew Aunt Mary dressed the dolls, and 
they must dress and undress them over and over, and must have tea at once 
with the dishes, while Chester was absorbed with his top and Douglas in 
his book. And the most wonderful thing was that these were all the very 
things that mother and Aunt Hannah and Aunt Mary used to play with 
themselves. Toward night I told Sarah she and 

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Lizzie must put away their things, so they did, and as Lizzie looked at 
the babies in their cradles, she said, "Oh the little sweets!" and Sarah 
said, "Such beautiful faces!" I gave them some bread and molasses for 
their supper, and as they ate, Chester said, "We were so overtook with joy 
because the box came at last." "Yes, and so tickled," said Sarah, and 
Lizzie clapped her hands and danced up and down, "because we are so glad." 

I laid away the packages marked for Lewis and myself, and some little 
notions for the children, to give them another time. It was almost seven, 
and I was putting the girls to bed, and Sarah had just said, "This is the 
most joyful day we ever saw," when Douglas came in to say that all the 
ministers had come to see me again. I hurried in, but the girls were too 
excited to go to sleep or to have the fear of company before their eyes; 
they must laugh and chatter together. I told the company that we had 
received a box from home, and Mr. Hunt said he knew all about it and 
laughed to hear them. 

While they were here, a Mr. Wells called with Mr. Snow's brother, and we 
had quite a party, and a nice time talking. The ministers had walked to 
Columbia and Springfield and back and enjoyed themselves very much. They 
sat an hour, and then said good-bye. They go to San Francisco tomorrow. 
After they had gone Mr. Wells asked me if I did not think we ought in some 
way to let them know which was best liked, if one of them was to stay. We 
talked for some time devising how it was to be done. It seems Mr. Bell is 
rather the most liked; some of the business men who never go to church 
noticed him, and we thought they should be pleased as well as the rest, 
for if they go to church the stores 

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will be closed, and the saloons and bad houses will be left to themselves 
and will keep more close, if they don't shut up. 

You never saw such actions as they have here. One man said Sonora is a 
perfect hell, and so it is. Today is election for mayor; I sent the boys 
to get me some matches, and they went by a house where a well-dressed 
woman was lying dead drunk On the floor, and lots of men there--the doors 
wide open so every one could see. In the gambling saloons are pictures of 
naked women, and women half dressed, dancing on the tables. I never saw a 
place where there was so much need of teaching and preaching and living as 
we ought to live. 

So it was decided that Mr. Snow and Mr. Wells should go to Mr. Deal's and 
see Mr. Hunt. And now Chester and I have worked out one of his games and 
played some with Sarah's splendid cards, and I am ready to write to you. 
First I must say, as the children do, I wish Lewis were here to see the 
elegant big cake and the beautiful preserves. They came so well, and of 
the dishes nothing was broken but one little bowl. The children are 
particularly pleased with the little blue plates. They had a long 
conversation over them, whether they were for the girls to play with, and 
Chester convinced them that it was not so. I have hardly had time to look 
at the books yet, except my own, and I like it very much. What a job it 
must have been to pack the box, for I have had one just putting the things 
away. I have not opened the bundles of clothes yet. 

I forgot to tell you that the girls wanted to take a walk as soon as they 
saw their parasols, but concluded to wait till next Sunday which Sarah 
wished were here, so that she could go to meeting, an excellent wish to be 
sure. The seeds 

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were a little damp and I have spread them out to dry. Such a lot of them! 
I hope they will prove to be good. Some of the shoes were a little mouldy, 
but not bad, and I am very glad indeed to have them. I must stop now, as 
it is after twelve o'clock, but I wanted to write at once. 

March 7, Tuesday. Today I looked at the de-laines and the ginghams and I 
like them very much. And that thin dress of yours, Mary, I know I can do 
something with it, and with the light one of mother's. I have already cut 
up the buff one and got out a coat for Sarah. I made it coat-fashion with 
a cape. She will wear it on Sundays; she needs something at this season, 
and her gowns have low neck and short sleeves. Do look at little girls in 
Philadelphia and write me what they wear in warm weather. My mantilla is 
getting rusty and some time I mean to make it over for her. She is so 
large, she cannot get on the shoes you sent for her. 

Washburn is to deliver a poem at the Lyceum tonight. He sent me word if I 
would like to go, he would come for me and bring me home, but I thought it 
best to decline. But the boys have gone with him. 

When I was putting the girls to bed, I gave them the little knives and 
forks that L. Fry sent. Do tell her how delighted they are with them. And 
then I opened the little box with the roses on it and showed them the two 
tiny dolls. When I took one out, and could hardly hold it, it was so tiny, 
and showed that it was jointed and its feet could move, I thought they 
would lose their wits and jump out of their skins, they were so excited. 
The dolls were too small to kiss, so they were not devoured. They enjoy 
the cradle dolls so much and are very careful with them. Once Sarah wanted 
to cover one of the dolls up. Said Lizzie, "Whoever 

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heard of covering up her face? Do we cover up our faces at night?" Today 
she had such a good time with her alphabet board. Douglas wrote a letter 
to you before the box came and now he thinks he must write another. I like 
my little bird whistle very much. I used it today to call Chester, who was 
way up on top of the hill. I very often have to call Sarah, when she runs 
out, and I hate to go out on the balcony and yell like an Indian. 

The boys have just gotten home. They liked the poem very much. Mrs. Yaney 
was there. She is from New Orleans, and while she seems to have had little 
education, and writes her name with a little y and as though she had never 
been taught to hold a pen, she does not make mistakes in talking, and 
dresses and acts as though she had moved in good society. She is more like 
the people at home than anybody that I know here. Mr. Hunt said he thought 
the change for me from Philadelphia to Sonora must have been very great 
indeed. You would like Mr. Hunt. The boys are deep in their books; they 
are very much obliged to you, and well they may be and their mother too. I 
am sure your ears must burn; we all talk so much about you. 

I have been thinking about the gold I sent by Mr. Snow. I would rather not 
have a watch. Lewis will get me one as soon as he can and it will be 
better to wait, I think. So I want you to have a ring made for me, as 
handsome as yours, and then I want to divide the rest among you. If you 
like, give Peter some to have a ring made for himself. You must take the 
gold as presents from me and the children. I hope you will do it. We will 
send some more some day.