LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 



27 



ran around the wagon, keeping the wagon between us, and by this time 

 others of the party came up and quiet was restored again. This ended my 

 driving team, for I told him I would'nt drive another step for him. 



We finally reached and passed through San Jose, about March, 1850. 

 The Legislature was in session here, and at this time San Jose was nothing 

 but a Greaser settlement of adobe shanties, dives and all manner of gamb- 

 ling dens were running full force. Santa Clara street ran to Third, and 

 after that you ran into the mustard. In fact three or four blocks from the 

 center of town in any direction you got into the mustard, which was so 

 thick and high it was well nigh impassable, except in the trails made by 

 cattle. 



Going towards San Jose Mission we passed two houses, the first was 

 occupied by Mr. Vestal, about a mile from town, and in the second house 

 Jim Murphy lived. Just beyond the crossing of Coyote Creek some Alviso's 

 lived near the foothills on the east side of the valley. On the road, where 

 Milpitas now is, there was nothing but a horse corral, and in Milpltas I 

 built the first cabin in 1852. 



Passing the Mission we came into the Livermore Valley, and Livermore 

 himself lived there at the time and offered me work at two hundred dollars 

 a month and board. He had a building he wanted done, but we passed on. 

 We reached the San Joaquin Plains, and they looked very beautiful, for at 

 this time they were covered with wild flowers, and were level as far as eye 

 could see. The plains resembled the Illinois prairies more than anything I 

 had seen on the whole trip. There were bands of wild horses, or mustangs 

 as they were called, and herds and herds of elk and antelope, — there seemed 

 to be no limit to them. 



I never saw so much game in such a space of country, excepting the 

 buffalo on the plains. It seemed as if there was wild game enough to feed 

 a nation. Speaking of game, California was the best country I ever saw; 

 one could go anywhere in the State, and find all the game he wished. 



We crossed the San Joaquin River at Bounsall's ferry, just where the 

 railroad crosses now. The old man's heart was nearly broken when he 

 found he had to pay a fee of ten dollars a wagon and a dollar a yoke for the 

 oxen in order to ferry; but it was either pay or stay on that side of the river. 

 Fifteen miles brought us to Stockton, and on the day we arrived I had been 

 just one year on the road, with the exception of six weeks I spent in Salt 

 Lake. Everything was lively in Stockton. Buildings of all kinds were being 

 rushed, and lumber was selling for three hundred dollars a thousand, at that 

 time all the lumber came around the Horn, and carpenters' wages were an 

 ounce or sixteen dollars a day. There were many cloth houses, tents of 

 all kinds, and shacks of every description. Some of the better houses cost 

 one hundred and fifty thousand dollars and over. Freighting charges were 

 from six to ten cents a pound to the mines. People were flocking to the 

 mines, some walking with their blankets strapped on their backs; some 

 were in stages; some on mule back; but all were trying to reach the gold 

 district. Many came back and reported the whole thing a hoax and a 

 failure. * 



