GINGERLY & CO. BY DOINGS. For weeks had I been sick-weeks that seemed to hang and hover over me, reluctant to go by. And as each succeeding week found me still worse, and promised nothing better, I lost all faith in physic, because tired of paying my physician eight dollars per day for advice, and one dollar each for pillstired of hearing kind-hearted and sympathizing friends each morning inquire, How do you feel to-day?"-tired of seeing them whisper together, shake their heads, and cast furtive glances at me, with countenances which indicated plainly what they would say if they only dared-"Poor fellow, you'll soon be off" and even tired of one good, whole-souled old friend, who would come day after day, and every day, as he came in, laugh loud and long, exclaiming "Why! how much better you look to-day "-seeming much surprised at such an unexpected change then sitting down, commence to tell some good story or joke, and, before he had got half through, turn back to me, and drawing from the capacious pocket of his monkey-jacket an immense bandana, wipe the tears out of his eyes, and then, with a broken voice, resume the story. I tell you, I was tired of this perfectly disgusted-it made me angry and I determined to disappoint them all, and not die-at least just then. ere I had sojourned at Marysville three weeks, I could take my regular meals, and walk several miles a day. My home at this place was with two old friends, who but a short time previous erected a canvas store-house, and, getting in a stock of goods, now only wanted one thing to enable them to do a "tip-top" business, and that one. thing was customers. It was my intention, upon regaining my health, to have returned to Sacramento, but was prevented by a circumstance which will form the burden of this sketch. Adjoining the store of my friends was a hotel which rejoiced in the humble but pleasing cognomen of "The Miners' Rest," and, as the sign said, "By Harris and Walker," but, as every one else said, "Old Harris" and "Col. Walker." The "chef de cuisine" of the establishment-our heroine-was a specimen of the French race, "fair, fat, and (every day of) forty," and who was rendered unhappy by being obliged to wear the somewhat spicy appellation of Gingerly; she having married a man bearing that euphonious surname, and from whom, after a short season, she separated. Capt. Gingerly was an old mountaineer, and had met the woman (Mrs. Benton) in San Francisco soon after her arrival at that place, and representing himself as an associate of Capt. Sutter, and the proprietor of an extensive tract of land somewhere, he won the affections (?) of the widow-for I thought a change of air, climate, widow she was, and came to this country and scenery, together with a strong for the express purpose of making a will, would restore me to health again, "good thing" out of somebody. To and, after a great deal of coaxing, my be sure, Capt. Gingerly was not what friends concluded to humor me, and would be called a handsome man-his one bright morning in the month of age did not exceed fifty-his body, March, '50, I was carried on board the which was adout six feet long, was steamboat Linda, then running between slightly bent-shoulders round and Sacramento and Marysville. From the stooping-face long, wrinkled, and orofficers of the boat I received every at-namented with several "whisky illustention possible, and shall ever remem-trations "-his teeth had, probably in ber their many acts of kindness with a some encounter with a bear, been grateful heart. knocked down his throat; at any rate they were missing, with the exception I was right in my conjectures, for general thing, maintained a rigid silence in regard to the affair, but when she did speak of her noble spouse, it was in terms doing as little credit to herself as to him. But the Captain in his mountain rambles often thought of that happy honey-moon-happy ere the brewing storm burst-and often regretted his part, not in the deception, but the separation, and finally concluded that it was her duty to follow him, and that she should do so, whether she liked it or not. Many were the messengers he sent, but to all did she turn a deaf ear, and would not be persuadedvarious times had he himself ventured into town, but could never obtain a hearing. One day, however, feeling very strong within himself, he came to town determined upon something des of two, one in each upper jaw, and It is perhaps needless to say that the Captain was nothing more than his appearance would indicate, a miserable old mountain loafer, who had passed years in roaming about the mountains, with bears and Indians for his associates, the earth for his bed, boots-when he had any for his pillow, and the canopy of heaven his coverlid. They were married, the rites over, the knot tied, the oaths recorded, and the honeymoon was in its zenith, when the dreadful discovery was made that both were sold. Alas! Alas! for marriage vows- It was not possible for them to live together after the unfortunate denouement, and they consequently agreed to separate. The Captain once more found his home among the mountains, and Mrs. G. repaired to Marysville and accepted the situation where we find her. Some time had now elapsed since the separation, and the old lady had, as a Just after dark he occupied a position in the rear of the house, having determined to make the attack from that quarter. He was not obliged to wait long for a favorable opportunitysoon all was quiet, not a soul to be seen. Stealthily he creeps along, with cat-like pace; cautiously, yet rapidly, he nears the open door-a moment more and he has crossed the threshold, and stands firmly upon the kitchen floor. The good old lady stands there too, busily engaged washing her cups and saucers, and, as she washes a cup and turns it down to dry, hums a few bars of "Jordan," and with her apron wipes the steam and perspiration from her brow. As she appears so well contented, and in such a happy frame of mind, and while the old gentleman hesitates, to decide upon the proper manner to announce his arrival, we will take a peep in at the front door. Here sit the guests, some upon wooden formssubstitutes for chairs-some upon the bar, and others upon the table. Mine hosts are here too,-nearly every one is enjoying the luxury of a pipe; scarcely a word is spoken, but all in silent revery gaze upon the smoky wreaths as they form tiny rings, expand, and wind about, and burst burst! did I say ?—well, I might, for the awfulest noise burst upon our ears just then that you ever did hear; it to me sounded more like a heavy clap of thunder, with a tin-pan and crockery ware accompaniment, than any thing I now think of. In an instant every one was on his feet, but for a moment undecided which way to run; then, as by common consent, rushed for the kitchen. Shades of departed crockery merchants, what a sight was here! Pots, kettles, crockery ware, knives and forks, the wash-tub, together with dish water and old Gingerly, formed a heterogeneous mass in one corner, while opposite stood our heroine, one foot slightly in advance of the other, and in each extended hand a saucer-her eyes shone with a bright wild glare, and almost thundered victory!-her upper lip and nose turned as if to indicate the scorn and contempt she felt for the miserable wretch lying subdued and crying in the corner. That unfortunate individual presented a most pitiable appearance. We rescued him from his perilous situation, and questioned him as to his being there; he told us that he wanted to see the "old woman" very much, and upon a subject of great importance; that he would forgive her this onslaught if, in return, she would allow him a few moments conversation in private. He began pleading so earnestly that Mr. Harris interceded for him, and was successful in obtaining an interview, limited to five minutes. Five minutes passed-ten-twenty-one hour-two hours, and I went home to bed. Very early the following morning Col. Walker glided noiselessly into our store, and, striking an attitude, made use of gesticulations and symbols, generally used when silence or secrecy is necessary, and by which we at once understood that "something was up." After ascertaining that it was not possible for any one to overhear, he, in sort of a half whisper, delivered himself of the following: "Old Gingerly has struck it big! he's found a place where a man can make his hundred a day with a pan as easy as nothing-he's given the old lady several large specimens, and she's going with him and wants me to go along, but the old man obstinately refuses. If you'll go with me the old woman says that she'll find out and give us such directions that we can follow and keep close behind them." Here he stopped to breathe; and-we consented. Reserving a goodly stock of provisions and stores to take with us, my friends disposed of the balance to a neighbor at "less than cost," and by noon of the next day we were ready, and waiting for the wagon-it came, was speedily loaded; and we left Marysville twenty-four hours behind the old Captain, with such information as we supposed would enable us in due time to overtake and claim an interest in his El Dorado. And this, my friend, (I presume you must be, or you would never have read thus far,) is an excellent stopping place. If you have found aught in the foregoing to interest you, and if you would learn more of Gingerly & Co., have patience, and on or near the first of October next again invest the small sum of twenty-five cents for the benefit of Hutchings & Co's Magazine, and you shall be rewarded for your endurance. EXTRACTS FROM A MINER'S JOURNAL. то MAY. GENTLE SISTER :-If any effort of my poor pen can afford a single pleasure to one like thee, or gratify one wish so kindly spoken as thine, most willingly do I resume it. Albeit the interest which you so tenderly express, may have been only in the association of friends, which exists. now, only as if it had never existed, save "in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dreamed." Albeit this new attempt may fail to please,—yet, still, I would beg to be kindly remembered, if for nothing but the zeal with which I shall strive to merit your approbation. Ever yours, gentle friend, JOE. No. 1. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. What a beautiful scene I gaze on, as I sit on the threshold of my cabin, in the shade of the old oak. Every sound is hushed in the noonday stillness, except the gentle rustling of leaves that are stirred by the faint breeze, and the harsh notes of some noisy jays in the neighboring thicket. Occasionally the quail from the distant hill-side calls to its mate, and the shrill scream of the hawk is heard as he soars into the upper air. Before the cabin the scene lies dazzlingly bright, and far away the distant hills glimmer in the heated sunlight. What deep tranquility pervades the whole! And why am I a mourner as I sit in the doorway in the shadow of the old oak? Why does not my heart, moved by that latent sympathy which exists between man and surrounding objects, beat responsive to the peaceful and dreamy happiness that rests upon the noonday landscape? Alas! why are there ever shades upon nature's beautiful face? And why, when the sun shines brightest, are they deepest? Perhaps it is well that we are not always glad. Our occasional sadness may make us more regardful of the happiness of others, and keep alive the acuteness of our own susceptibility of pleasure, which too constant joyousness might blunt. At any rate I will not attempt to shake off this sadness to-day, of all others, for it is an anniversary which my heart should keep in sorrow. Nations and societies have their anniversaries, which they hold in cherished respect. Even now our own glorious national one has just passed, and the patriotic hearts that throbbed with so much excitement have hardly yet And subsided to their quiet beat. shall not our hearts have their own anniversaries of joy or grief? Shall we foster no ivy-vine of memory, to twine round the ruins of the bright dreams and airy superstructures of youth?Yes, and we will hold the day of their fall sacred to nourish it with tears. Willie Walters and I-both animated with the careless, happy, hopeful spirit of fifteen-had returned from school to spend the summer months at our homes. We were equally wild in our visions of future fame and happiness, and equally ignorant of life's real nature. Our parents were near neighbors in the little village, and we were constant companions, and, in the excitement of youthful joy, we were going to write a tale during the summer months, whose truthful delineations of life should win for us an enviable reputation. We had already chosen for the name of our great work Sunshine and Shadow, as expressive of the vicissitudes of life, and were discussing the plot, and the characters that were to figure in it. "It shall be a home tale, true to life," said Willie; "every character in the end shall be happy; and the only shadow shall be a delayed hope, or momentary disappointment. And no one shall die, because it's not necessary. Writers do wrong to have their good characters die,-it's not natural, and they only do so in books because the authors use their power arbitrarily. And then," he continued, his eloquence warming as he proceeded, "we have got two such dear beings to inspire us with a beautiful ideal of happy, loving, angelic characters. Sister Amy shall be yours and Hattie Wade mine; and they will feel so proud to see themselves mirrored by such flattering reflectors as our affections will prove,O, it will be a glorious work!" And he danced around the room in an ecstacy of delight. I know not what I responded, but my hopes were as wild and sanguine as his own. And when I thought of the inspiration that the love of Amy Walters would lend, I felt sure that my delineation of her character would be comparable to nothing but the loveliest and best of angels; and the pride that swelled my breast when I thought that perhaps the merits of our work would make me in the least more worthy of her affection, or light one gleam of admiration in her peerless eyes, was such as only swells the bosom of boyhood. Our tale opened with the scene of a gay group of children going forth in the spring time to range the fields in search of flowers. We left them, with their glad shouts and merry laughter ringing in the air-chasing butterflies and gathering wild flowers--to moralize thus: lives, experience would allow us nothing more sorrowful than this." Inconsiderate, boyish words! But I thought them not so then, for my heart responded to their sentiment; and, happy in the commencement of our tale, we laid it aside until the morrow. Alas! it was never resumed. It fell like many another bright structure of my youth; and the work that was to have made our names immortal, is only extant on the pages of memory. That day Willie and I walked arm in arm to the little lake beyond the village, and saw-as not unusually we did-Amy and Hattie in the pleasure boat, floating on the bright surface of the pond. The day was still and sultry, and the idle sail scarcely moved the "Sport on, happy group, sport on! little boat. The girls saw us as we Gather the bright flowers that grow so stood on the bank, watching them drift plentifully around you created, it slowly across the pond, and their laugh would seem, for your tiny hands!-rang sweet and clear over the water as Chase the gaudy insects that so easily they cried in girlish coquetry, that they elude your grasp, and leave the pursuit had found an effectual way of keeping with only a laugh at your baffled chase! at a respectful distance two such imSport on while yet you may! for, all portunate visitors as we were. The too soon, stern care will surround you, merry sound had scarcely died when thick as these flowers, and your gay we saw the smooth surface beyond laugh change to sighs of disappoint- them, suddenly agitated by one of those quick gusts, or little whirlwinds, that are so frequent during the sultry summer months. ment. "Sport on, happy group-small type of creation, sport on! The world goes forth to gather flowers;-all look forward over life's opening fields and see a boundless expanse of bloom; and press eagerly forward, clothed with high hopes, to pluck the inviting blossoms, and grasp the dazzling insects; but when they are gained, the blossoms are changed to sorrows and the insects to illusions. The world goes forth to gather flowers, but how many, many, pluck the thorns of care." "Excellent," cried Willie, as he read it over, "but it's hardly true to life, I think, for you know there is nothing but happiness; we must, however, have this to give effect; yet we must get nothing sadder, for if we do the shadow of our tale will exceed the sunshine; and I'm sure if we should live twenty Before we could warn them it had touched the boat,-borne it hastily through the water for a second of time,-overturned, and driven it beyond the reach of the girls, who sank, with two smothered shrieks, under the water. It had all been done so suddenly, that Willie and I stood for a moment as if chained to the ground; but the next instant we were swimming furiously to their rescue. The distance was considerable, but our desperate exertions passed it rapidly. Thrice we saw the girls appear, clasped in each others' embrace, the last time but a short distance from us; but we reached the spot too late. The struggle was over, and we could only indistinctly see two white forms in the depth of the agitated waters-dearer to us |