and plows lashed to the tail-gates. Calhoun himself never ceased
to regret that we could not delay a year or two years longer. In this he
was thwarted by the impetuous war with the republic on the south,
although, had that never been fought, we had lost California--lost also
the South, and lost the Union!

Under one form or other, one name of government or another, the flag of
democracy eventually must float over all this continent. Not a part, but
all of this country must be ours, must be the people's. It may cost more
blood and treasure now. Some time we shall see the wisdom of John
Calhoun; but some time, too, I think, we shall see come true that
prophecy of a strange and brilliant mentality, which in Calhoun's
presence and in mine said that all of these northern lands and all
Mexico as well must one day be ours--which is to say, the people's--for
the sake of human opportunity, of human hope and happiness. Our battles
are but partly fought. But at least they are not, then, lost.

For myself, the close of the Mexican War found me somewhat worn by
travel and illy equipped in financial matters. I had been discredited, I
say, by my own government. My pay was withheld. Elisabeth, by that time
my wife, was a girl reared in all the luxury that our country then could
offer. Shall I say whether or not I prized her more when gladly she gave
up all this and joined me for one more long and final journey out across
that great trail which I had seen--the trail of democracy, of America,
of the world?

At last we reached Oregon. It holds the grave of one of ours; it is the
home of others. We were happy; we asked favor of no man; fear of no one
did we feel. Elisabeth has in her time slept on a bed of husks. She has
cooked at a sooty fireplace of her own; and at her cabin door I myself
have been the guard. We made our way by ourselves and for ourselves, as
did those who conquered America for our flag. "The citizen standing in
the doorway of his home, shall save the Republic." So wrote a later pen.

It was not until long after the discovery of gold in California had set
us all to thinking that I was reminded of the strange story of the old
German, Von Rittenhofen, of finding some pieces of gold while on one of
his hunts for butterflies. I followed out his vague directions as best I
might. We found gold enough to make us rich without our land. That
claim is staked legally. Half of it awaits an owner who perhaps will
never come.

Th