[W. A. Hardin, The Perils of White Pine, Alta California, March 29, 1869]

 

THE PERILS OF WHITE PINE.

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[COMMUNICATED TO A FRIEND IN THIS CITY, FROM THE SUPERINTENDENT OF THE WHITE PINE MINING AND PROSPECTING COMPANY.]

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TREASURE CITY, March 22d, 1869.

            I have nothing of any interest to chronicle, unless indeed it be the state of the weather, which I can assure you is of the most fearful description, and threatens to prove a topic of the most vital import to me. I cannot begin to give you a proper idea of it. It is simply indescribable. To-day is the tenth day of the enduring storm, which even yet evinces no appearance of abatement.

            On Saturday morning last, the sun rose in all its splendor, not a cloud to be seen in the heavens — everybody appeared to be in high glee, business assumed a semblance of its former activity and congratulations were freely exchanged on the prospect of the approaching fine weather. In fact, everything looked lovely and the goose was, to all appearances, about to hang as usual in Treasure City, but, alas! such a vision of brightness was too good to last. It was a lull and no more. A mere rest that the storm had been taking for itself — for down on our devoted heads it soon came again with renewed vigor, and it raged round us more furiously than before.

            I put up my tent a few days before the storm commenced and have been in terror ever since, lest it should be blown down or start on an aerial voyage to parts unknown, as many others of my neighbors' tents have done. So far I have been very fortunate, but if the storm continues I am afraid I shall have to abandon my ship and leave her to the mercy of the elements. This morning, on turning out (my sleep had not been "balmy"), I set to work to hunt for my boots, which had become invisible, although of by no means of diminutive dimensions. I found them finally in a corner of the tent covered under a ''ledge" of snow at least three feet in depth. I had "prospected" for some time with indifferent success, when at length my efforts were rewarded by the appearance of what I considered good "indications" in the form of a boot-strap. By sinking and clearing I at length struck the great objects of my search. After a few growls I got these precious looking pedal coverings into their proper bearings, and thereafter made my way "down town" as quickly as possible to refresh myself with the everlasting pork and beans and villainous coffee that seem the necessary concomitants of all mining camps.  Since that time I have paid my flighty residence an occasional visit (a flying visit — everything is flying around here at present) merely to see if it has vigor enough to maintain an upright attitude.  It still stands, and while it lives, I hope.

W. A. HARDIN.