A Hundred Years of Rip and Roarin Rough and Ready By Andy Rogers (1952)(Hathitrust) (117 pages)

be found, but there was not evident to the eye, and Bidwell only half-believed the Hexican, and didn't pursue the means of getting it out. However, Bidwell was the first person to carry the gold find news to San Francisco. At Bidwell's Bar, by topping off a celebration of Independence, a Claret dinner with a twenty gallon keg of brandy, bailed out with quart dippers. Here Joseph Lewis planted the Mother Orange Tree. A sixty-eight pound wash-woman, who took in washing, washed out of miner's clothes in nine weeks, $900.00. Streets were dug up for gold. er Honorable Edward Beale, in whose honor ‘Camp Beale was named, located between Rough end Ready, and Marysville. Beale was one of the gold rush men, and took part in the American and Mexican War. MARK TWAIN Real name, Samuel Clement, lost a fortune by one more panning. A pardner and him were prospecting, one carried water to wash out the gravel, the other was the engineer. The take was only $20.00 naturally, the hard worker was not Mark (Sam.} Shorty was in love and as water-carrier, wanted to quit and go to San Francisco to see his girl. Engineer Sam offered his pardner to be the engineer, and he carried the water, in order to encourage him to stay. Before leaving the hole, was staked out. Some claim jumpers took over, and after the first pan struck gold. It took the’two pardners to square things with the loved one. Pardner Shorty wanted Redeye. : On one occassion, Sam refused to fight a duel. Left the State of Nevada so he would not be arrested. . Early days, some going to cemetery, said, "Some going out of town." Some On the run." Indian Chiefs -Compoodies The foot race around Lake Tahoe for love Old "Yat" : Vineyard and Bourne Renoh near Rough and Ready. The Vineyard sisters stories of noted Early days (in part.) Skill Writers MARY CATHERINE CROSSING THE PLAINS Courtesy of the late Miss Marguerite Vineyard. Said Mary Catherine in the early spring of 1854, "Mother and I had prepared supper, as our evening meal was called. We had set the table in the enclosed porch, facing the Wapes, and were waiting for father to come home from Des Moines. The boys were William, Thomas, and little Jonathan, who were playing Indians. Their weak imitation of war hoops and blunt arrows encircled the rooms, in confusion of sight and sound. Their play was the result of the gathering wagon trains in Des Moines, preparatory to the long trek to California. The fire flies were flashing their small fairy lanterns over the lush green grass and the soft flowing water. The evening was filled with minute night noses, and fragrant with the sweet indescribable odor of grass, hollyhocks, and other semi-tropical flowers. I sat on the porch step, facing the river and loved it. Father came presently and was greatly preoccupied during the meal. He did not even hear the boys, unmannerly snickers Google 59 for which they were usually sent from the table. The boys and I washed the dishes presumable. It usually results in my doing them, for there were invariably, dish towel fights, broken china, and dropped silver. Father attended to his horses after supper, and mother never heard anything when she read, which she did at any time, and on all occassions. This evening, father sent William, the oldest boy, to attend to his horses,, a proceeding almost unprecedented. Thomas and Johnathan wiped the dishes decorously, as father sat within hearing on the porch, to talk to mother. I heard the first sentence with startling attention. liargaret, how would you like to join the emigrant train now forming in Des iioines for California? The boys dropped their dishes, and waited open mouthed for her answer, for what boy of that time did not thrill at the prospect of such adventure. I sensed rather than knew that father had been dissatisfied since he sold Point Pleasant, his Virginia plantation, subject to his later approval, migrated to Iowa, settled on the apsepinecan River, near his brother, James D. Bourne, and his maiden sisters, Amanthy and Jane Allen. He missed his southern associations. He missed his plantation negroes, all of whom he had freed, end who adored Miassa Robert. They were not so sure of Miz Margaret, who came from Maryland, most too far north to be real southerner. One flash, however, from her Irish brown eyes, and obedience was instant and complete. Father could not run his plantation successfully, financially and otherwise. He mew nothing of middle western farming. All that he brought with him from his plantation were his five blooded mares. He had been farsighted enough not to sell Point Pleasant outright, lest he wished to return. The overseer had taken a leases for six months, subject to gale. The papers were ready for mother and father to sign, money and deeds were held in escrow in Richmond, pending further operations. In answer to father's anxious inquiry, mother replied, "I don't know, Robert. If California was a slave state, I would say Yes immediately. None of us are accustomed to work. We might be happier with our Slaves. Let us think it over." Mother always suited a southerner, and father acquiesced at once. Both knew their decisions must be made soon. The Donner party was such a ghastly reminder, that no wagon train dared leave without plenty of latitude as to time. There could be no delay in father and mother's decision, Within a week the die was cast, papers were signed, ready to send to Virginia, money for the plantation was to be held, pending notification of father's settle abode in California. A heavy prairie schooner and a light covered wagon were ready with four stout oxen to draw the prairie schooner, the mares, and lighter wagon. The place on the Wapse was turned over to James D. Bourne. I went with mother to say good-bye to little Anatgus, whose mortal dust lay in a little graveyard near the Wapse. The bobwhites called cheerfully from the fields of corn, and the grass in the grave yard. Years after, when father and mother were at rest, I went to visit sons and daughters of James Bourne, and other relations in Iowa,

be found, but there was not evident to the eye, and Bidwell only half-believed the Hexican, and didn't pursue the means of getting it out. However, Bidwell was the first person to carry the gold find news to San Francisco. At Bidwell's Bar, by topping off a celebration of Independence, a Claret dinner with a twenty gallon keg of brandy, bailed out with quart dippers. Here Joseph Lewis planted the Mother Orange Tree. A sixty-eight pound wash-woman, who took in washing, washed out of miner's clothes in nine weeks, $900.00. Streets were dug up for gold. er Honorable Edward Beale, in whose honor ‘Camp Beale was named, located between Rough end Ready, and Marysville. Beale was one of the gold rush men, and took part in the American and Mexican War. MARK TWAIN Real name, Samuel Clement, lost a fortune by one more panning. A pardner and him were prospecting, one carried water to wash out the gravel, the other was the engineer. The take was only $20.00 naturally, the hard worker was not Mark (Sam.} Shorty was in love and as water-carrier, wanted to quit and go to San Francisco to see his girl. Engineer Sam offered his pardner to be the engineer, and he carried the water, in order to encourage him to stay. Before leaving the hole, was staked out. Some claim jumpers took over, and after the first pan struck gold. It took the’two pardners to square things with the loved one. Pardner Shorty wanted Redeye. : On one occassion, Sam refused to fight a duel. Left the State of Nevada so he would not be arrested. . Early days, some going to cemetery, said, "Some going out of town." Some On the run." Indian Chiefs -Compoodies The foot race around Lake Tahoe for love Old "Yat" : Vineyard and Bourne Renoh near Rough and Ready. The Vineyard sisters stories of noted Early days (in part.) Skill Writers MARY CATHERINE CROSSING THE PLAINS Courtesy of the late Miss Marguerite Vineyard. Said Mary Catherine in the early spring of 1854, "Mother and I had prepared supper, as our evening meal was called. We had set the table in the enclosed porch, facing the Wapes, and were waiting for father to come home from Des Moines. The boys were William, Thomas, and little Jonathan, who were playing Indians. Their weak imitation of war hoops and blunt arrows encircled the rooms, in confusion of sight and sound. Their play was the result of the gathering wagon trains in Des Moines, preparatory to the long trek to California. The fire flies were flashing their small fairy lanterns over the lush green grass and the soft flowing water. The evening was filled with minute night noses, and fragrant with the sweet indescribable odor of grass, hollyhocks, and other semi-tropical flowers. I sat on the porch step, facing the river and loved it. Father came presently and was greatly preoccupied during the meal. He did

not even hear the boys, unmannerly snickers Google 59 for which they were usually sent from the table. The boys and I washed the dishes presumable. It usually results in my doing them, for there were invariably, dish towel fights, broken china, and dropped silver. Father attended to his horses after supper, and mother never heard anything when she read, which she did at any time, and on all occassions. This evening, father sent William, the oldest boy, to attend to his horses,, a proceeding almost unprecedented. Thomas and Johnathan wiped the dishes decorously, as father sat within hearing on the porch, to talk to mother. I heard the first sentence with startling attention. liargaret, how would you like to join the emigrant train now forming in Des iioines for California? The boys dropped their dishes, and waited open mouthed for her answer, for what boy of that time did not thrill at the prospect of such adventure. I sensed rather than knew that father had been dissatisfied since he sold Point Pleasant, his Virginia plantation, subject to his later approval, migrated to Iowa, settled on the apsepinecan River, near his brother, James D. Bourne, and his maiden sisters, Amanthy and Jane Allen. He missed his southern associations. He missed his plantation negroes, all of whom he had freed, end who adored Miassa Robert. They were not so sure of Miz Margaret, who came from Maryland, most too far north to be real southerner. One flash, however, from her Irish brown eyes, and obedience was instant and complete. Father could not run his plantation successfully, financially and otherwise. He mew nothing of middle western farming. All that he brought with him from his plantation were his five blooded mares. He had been farsighted enough not to sell Point Pleasant outright, lest he wished to return. The overseer had taken a leases for six months, subject to gale. The papers were ready for mother and father to sign, money and deeds were held in escrow in Richmond, pending further operations. In answer to father's anxious inquiry, mother replied, "I don't know, Robert. If California was a slave state, I would say Yes immediately. None of us are accustomed to work. We might be happier with our Slaves. Let us think it over." Mother always suited a southerner, and father acquiesced at once. Both knew their decisions must be made soon. The Donner party was such a ghastly reminder, that no wagon train dared leave without plenty of latitude as to time. There could be no delay in father and mother's decision, Within a week the die was cast, papers were signed, ready to send to Virginia, money for the plantation was to be held, pending notification of father's settle abode in California. A heavy prairie schooner and a light covered wagon were ready with four stout oxen to draw the prairie schooner, the mares, and lighter wagon. The place on the Wapse was turned over to James D. Bourne. I went with mother to say good-bye to little Anatgus, whose mortal dust lay in a little graveyard near the Wapse. The bobwhites called cheerfully from the fields of corn, and the grass in the grave yard. Years after, when father and mother were at rest, I went to visit sons and daughters of James Bourne, and other relations in Iowa,