to see her now she was grown up. Mrs. Scott
introduced us, and I sat and looked at the little woman quite a long
time, but could not see that she resembled either father or mother. My
mind ran back over the terrible road we came and I pictured to myself
the woman as she then appeared.

I studied over our early trials, crossing the plains over the deserts
and our trying scenes out of Death Valley and turned all over in my mind
for some time and finally all came to me like a flash and I could
clearly see that the little lady was a true picture of her mother; I now
began to ask questions about her folks, she said her father lived near
Belmont, Nevada, and her grand-father died at the Monte, Los Angeles
county Cal.. Our visit now became very interesting and we kept a late
hour.

CHAPTER XVII.

Since writing the connected story which has thus far appeared, I turn
back to give some incidents of life in the mines, and some description
of those pioneer gold days.

I have spoken of Moore's Flat, Orleans Flat and Woolsey's Flat, all
similarly situated on different points of the mountain, on the north
side of the ridge between the South and Middle Yuba River, and all at
about the same altitude. A very deep canon lies between each of them,
but a good mountain road was built around the head of each canon,
connecting the towns. When the snow got to be three or four feet deep
the roads must be broken out and communication opened, and the boys used
to turn out _en masse_ and each one would take his turn in leading the
army of road breakers. When the leader got tired out some one would take
his place, for it was terrible hard work to wade through snow up to
one's hips, and the progress very slow. But the boys went at it as if
they were going to a picnic, and a sort of picnic it was when they
reached the next town, for whisky was free and grub plenty to such a
party, and jollity and fun the uppermost thoughts. On one such occasion
when the crowd came through Orleans Flat to Moore's Flat, Sid Hunt, the
butcher, was in the lead as they came in sight of the latter place, and
both he and his followers talked pretty loud and rough to the Moore's
Flat fellows calling them "lazy pups" for not getting their road clear.
Hunt's helper was a big stout, loud talking young man named Williams,
and he shouted to the leader--"Sid Hunt, toot your horn if you don't
sell a clam." This seemed to put both sides in good humor, and the
Orleans fel