Willshire

Cosumnes River Gold Mines June 8^th 1850

Dear Sarah

I thought I could employ my time, to no better purpose, than to write you a few lines, giving a short sketch of my California life. Before I go any farther, I must beg you to excuse my miserable scrawling which I term, though misname, writing, and I will satisfy you why I write so miserable a hand. Last winter for about two months, I experienced a severe sickness, called the Typhoyd [Typhoid] or Mountain Fever, by which I came very near paying the last debt of nature; had it not been for one of my partners, named Henry T. Davis, who waded nearly up to his arm-pitts [armpits] in water in the winter for a physician and had it not been for his excelent [excellent] care of me, I should not be writing this letter: the doctor said, he expected to visit my grave instead of me: God was pleased to let me recover though I lost my speech and my sickness seriously effected my right hand and left leg.

Many of my fellow passengers are dead and many of my companions young men belonging to Wethersfield. I should be thankful to God for sparing my life, but I am afraid that I am not enough so although he spared my life twice since I have been in the country: I would do any thing for Davis if it were die for him, therefore I ought to be more thankful, but we are ungrateful creatures the best of us.

Now I will give you an account how near I came loosing my life last summer.

A number of my fellow – passengers and myself were beating

our way through a patch of raspberry bushes, (which I did not find very agreeable) useing [using] my gun for a cane, like the rest, when the hamer [hammer] caught in a small vine, no larger than a needle, and caught at the half-cock: had the vine broke a second sooner, I should have been shot in the heart and killed instantly, for my gun carried an half ounce ball; I have had death stare me in the face, many a time, but I never felt that danger was so near, as it was at that time. My life hung on a vine, you may say.

Now I will give you a few accounts of my hairbreadth escapés at sea. When I was in a schooner riding out a heavy gale in the Gulf of Mexico, the mute came to me and asked me if I thought I could go aloft and secure one of the topsails that had got adrift: I told him I could: he said he would not send a man aloft, when the vessel was rearing and pitching in the heavy seas, for it was as much as a man's life was worth, to go aloft in such a time. I found it necessary to climb up the top-mast shrouds and I no sooner let go of them they snapped in two like two pieces of thread although they were large ropes: had they broke while I was on them, I should have been hurled at the distance of ninety feet, either on deck or overboard: if I fell overboard they possibly might have saved me by throwing me a line, if the shock of falling from such a height, did not kill or prevent me from catching the line: if I had fell on deck,I should have been killed instantly.

At another time when we were bound from New Orleans to New York, just as we got clear of the West Indies, we took fire and had great trouble to keep the fire from catching the riging [rigging] and going aloft: had it caught in the riging [rigging], all hopes of saving

the vessel would have been at an end.

Once I was in a brig bound from New Orleans to New York we experienced a severe gale and expected the next moment to be our last, had not the brig been a very fast sailer and one of the best sea boats, she would have gone on a ledge of rock out of sight of land.

When I was in the steam-ship Crescent City I narrowly escaped being blown up at sea by the bursting of the boiler; at another time when there were a large number of passengers on board we came, very near being burnt.

I was on a schooner bound from New York to Port Gavasten [Galveston] in Texas and we encountered a terrific gale in the early hours and I was called out in the night to keep the foresail, when a heavy sea broke over the vessel and took me with it overboard, when I caught at the main rigging and then saved myself.

Thus you see Providence has watched over me and guided my steps, wherever I have been. My partners, are a messeress. White, Davis and Arnold; we have established a trading-post among the Indians at this place; White and Davis are in the Yuba River, where I intended to go this summer if my health had been good; Arnold is drawing goods for the store from Sacramento City.

We give Mr White's cousin twelve and a half per cent on every thing he make, for keeping the store for us.

After May; since an Indian went into a store a few miles north of this, and was going away with some goods without paying for them; he was pressed to put them down or pay for them; he refused to do either and the store keeper served him right by shooting and killing him on the spot; a little while after that, a large

number of Indians assembled at the store and completely riddled the unfortunate store keeper, with arrows; a body of whites a few days after, went into their village and found the chief the rest having fled, on the approach of the whites; the chief they killed with a large knife.

Last fall, I was awakened by a number of Indians in the middle of the night, presently one of them was getting in the window; I told him in spanish, to leave and he not answering me, I leveled a loaded pistol at him, and fired; the ball passed through a [?] and buried itself in a log close to his body; the Indians scampered away as fast as their legs could carry them and we have not been troubled in the night by them since.

A few days ago, a party of thrity-five men stopped here and the saddle turned on one of the mules and threw the rider to the ground and kicked him so that he died the next morning, he was buried near here. I must now bid you farewell, hoping that you will excuse my writing. I shall return the first of August or early next fall. My best respects and love to all, taking a good share to yourself meantime. I shall remain yours truly.

Willshire