GENERAL JOHN A. SUTTER.

 

            WHEN I saw him last he was on his 'Hock Farm" on Feather River, about forty miles north of Sacramento. He had built a house there and cultivated a portion of his farm. The house was of adobe, the walls were, I think, three feet thick, as he explained that the house might keep out the heat in summer and the cold in winter. He must have been at that time something over fifty years of age, probably fifty-three. He was not tall, but heavy, weighing perhaps 200 pounds. His face was very strong but gentle as a woman's, his voice was soft and low. He impressed me as one who had finished his work, as one who, when his bark had been sailing smoothly, was caught by a tidal wave and tossed ashore, bruised and half shattered.

            Save the resolute face there was no sign of the tireless energy and dauntless endurance and courage that had transferred him from a little hamlet in Germany to the golden coast before it was known that any gold was there, and had caused him to beat back both the barbarian and the savage, plant a home there and begin the transformation of the land.

            He gave us gentle but cordial welcome, offered us all the hospitalities of his home, and the tender was that of the frontiersman, which, without words, seemed to be saying : "Everything is yours ; why wait for formalities ? You are welcome guests and that makes you masters while you stay."

            But under that gentle exterior the soul of a hero had its tenement. "We knew that before we saw him first, and for the moment his appearance was a little disappointing, and I said to my brother, who was with me : "He impresses me with a feeling that his high soul is taking its afternoon siesta." For I knew that the quiet man had braved every danger, coming in a frail craft over all the mighty stretch of storms and waves ;

8 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

that he with a little band of followers, planted the first pioneer outpost, built a rude fort for a defense against the wild beast and savage man; that there, the pioneer of pioneers, he laid the foundation of what he fondly hoped would become a glorified state ; with dauntless courage when necessary, maintained his place, and then, with his gentleness and justice, drew to him those who had been enemies, and showed them how much smoother were the paths of peace and progress than the stony trails of violence and cruelty.

            He honestly acquired great grants of land, enough for an earldom; he built a rude little mill and in the race from that mill the first golden sands of California were washed. He was then forty-eight years old, and his shadow was turning to the east. He was yet hale and strong, but his energies had never been called into a direct competition with the sharp men who, a little later, came in a flood, began to work upon his generosity and whatever of cupidity he had. His estate began to shrink and before he realized it, he was poor. Whatever his thoughts were they did not disturb his stately serenity ; he was a trained soldier ; indifferent to danger and hardships, and had been all his life, and no false friends could rob him of his self-respect or lofty dignity.

            He knew from the first that the house he had built was the first temple to civilization that had been upreared in that fair land; that in the chronology of California all time would date from him and his work. He had come there as the Patriarch of the region ; the advance agent of civilization, and enlightenment ; that every step that progress would hereafter make, every triumph that history might record for the golden state, the refrain of every speech, the word picture of every glorious advance, would still be incomplete unless it included the explanation that it had all dated from the work of the stalwart old pioneer who first planted the flag of freedom on California soil ; built the first real home, the first rude temple to justice, and whose heroic soul was the guardian of all, until other brave souls came to hail him as the Pioneer of Pioneers, and to help pick up and carry on the work needed to round a glorious state into form.