tled on this river, and suffered extremely from the scarcity of
provisions during the last winter. By steady industry in his laborious
vocation, he had accumulated about four thousand dollars. He was
thinking seriously of returning to Massachusetts with what he had
already gained, when, in the early part of last May, a stone,
unexpectedly rolling from the top of Smith's Hill, on the side of which
he was mining, crushed his leg in the most shocking manner. Naturally
enough, the poor fellow shrank with horror from the idea of an
amputation here in the mountains. It seemed absolutely worse than
death. His physician, appreciating his feelings on the subject, made
every effort to save his shattered limb, but, truly, the Fates seemed
against him. An attack of typhoid fever reduced him to a state of great
weakness, which was still further increased by erysipelas--a common
complaint in the mountains--in its most virulent form. The latter
disease, settling in the fractured leg, rendered a cure utterly
hopeless. His sufferings have been of the most intense description.
Through all the blossoming spring, and a summer as golden as its own
golden self, of our beautiful California he has languished away
existence in a miserable cabin, his only nurses men, some of them, it
is true, kind and good, others neglectful and careless. A few weeks
since, F. was called in to see him. He decided immediately that nothing
but an amputation would save him. A universal outcry against it was
raised by nearly all the other physicians on the Bar.

They agreed, _en masse_, that he could live but a few weeks unless the
leg--now a mere lump of disease--was taken off. At the same time, they
declared that he would certainly expire under the knife, and that it
was cruel to subject him to any further suffering. You can perhaps
imagine F.'s anxiety. It was a great responsibility for a young
physician to take. Should the patient die during the operation, F.'s
professional reputation would, of course, die with him; but he felt it
his duty to waive all selfish considerations, and give W. that one
chance, feeble as it seemed, for his life. Thank God, the result was
most triumphant. For several days existence hung upon a mere thread. He
was not allowed to speak or move, and was fed from a teaspoon, his only
diet being milk, which we obtained from the Spanish Rancho, sending
twice a week for it. I should have mentioned that F. decidedly refused
to risk an operation