Collection: Books and Periodicals > Hutchings' Illustrated California Magazine

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Title: Volume 3 (1858-1859) Collection Type: Books and Periodicals Collection Name: Hutchings' Illustrated California Magazine Published: 1858-1859 # of Pages: 592 Download PDF: User Login Required Download OCR Text: User Login Required

Date Scanned: 2024-08-29 22:23:33 OCR Software Version #: tesseract 5.4.1 First Created: 2025-03-17 03:20:47 Last Updated: 2025-03-17 03:20:47

Original Held At: Searls Historical Library Location: 161 Nevada City Hwy, Nevada City, CA 95959

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414 HUTCHINGS’ CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. Plunkett carefully placed the letter where he found it, determined to court Miss Doolittle’s acquaintance in the course of the day. It is useless to waste words about such transparent matters. Before the evening of that day, Mr. Plunkett formally proffered marriage to Miss Doolittle — disinterestedly and generously waiving all inquiries as to her worldly circumstances—and was graciously accepted by that lady as an affianced husband. It is also unnecessary for me to state that the letter was a diabolical trick, a hoax, in which Patience Doolittle had no participation; and that, after Mr. Plunkett had read the letter and Jaid it down where he found it, it was picked up by Miss Leenie, herself, and committed to the flames in the kitchen. Mr. Plunkett was an ardent lover, and Miss Doolittle was too generons and affectionate to deny him anything; and so, with her consent, he procured a license the next day, and, the day following, was safely launched into the sea of matrimony —the ceremony being performed in the county town, by a Dutch justice of the peace, who charged therefor one dollar and a half, in shinplasters. It is recorded of Mr. and Mrs. Plunkett that their marriage was not a happy one, but, as it happened a long time ago, that circumstance is of but little consequence. Our story is near its “‘finis.” Lieutenant Jacob Freyberger, having whipped Barney Malone out of his way, and provided a wife for Mr. Plunkett, made a formal demand upon Mr. Michael Keezil for the hand of his daughter. The old gentleman was a good deal disconcerted, at first,—all novel propositions disconcerted him—but he had become so habituated to Leenie’s management of his affairs that, without stating any objections of bis uwn, he referred the whole matter to her disposal. As to Mrs. Keezil, neither Leenie nor her father considered it necessary to consult her wishes on the subject; but Yawkub thought differently, and succeeded in laying the affair before the old lady in such an agreeable light, that she not only gave her cordial consent to the match, but expressed a strong determination to dance at the wedding. Leenie and Yawkub were married. He sold his farm, and joined his fatherin-law in the management of the Keezil estate. With such a wife he could not avoid growing rich, even had he wished otherwise—which, like a sensible man, he never did—and a host of Freybergers, male and female, children and grandchildren, sprang up on the soil which old Michael Keezil had first rescued from the primeval forest. Lieutenant Jacob Freyberger (the ‘‘ Lieutenant” was long since swallowed up in “ General”) is now a gray-headed, active old man, and has been a man of mark in his day, haying filled many of the offices in his county, and represented it for many years in the State Legislature. His wife is old, too, but she is as nimble as a girl; and, rich as her husband is, she persists in superintending all the duties of her household in person. The hotel disap! peared many years ago, and in its place stands the palatial residence of the Freyberger family. Michael Keezil and his wife have long been sleeping under the mold of the churchyard, and over their grave filial piety has erected a princely mausoleum, whose lettered marble tells the world that they who slumber beneath it were patterns of all the virtues, while they lived on earth, and are now wearing immortal crowns in Heaven! It is a pleasant thing to die rich—almost as pleasant as to die in the odor of sanctity, Its prime blessings consist of a brilliant funeral, an eloquently-eulogistic notice in the newspapers, and a magniloquent epitaph. Jacob Freyberger never fought but one regular “rough-and-tumble” after