and its wants more varied; there being, also, no method of calling a convention except by the action of the politicians, and an enormous vis inertia in the masses of the people to reinforce the conservatism of those who prefer to bear the ills they have rather than to "fly to others that they know not of," it is not now apparent when or how a revision of the Constitution is likely to be undertaken, or what complexion would be given to the work by such a convention as the politicians would be sure to pack for their own selfish pur

THE establishing of law and order in the gold regions, with such a heterogeneous mass of humanity, has always been a source of pride to Californians, as proving the ability for self-government. The fact that Congress tacitly, if not officially, recognized the laws and regulations enacted by the miners, and that interests involving millions of dollars were settled in accordance with miners' law, proves an innate sense of justice in the mass of the people who so suddenly occupied the Pacific slope. Every camp had its written laws regarding the method of obtaining and working mining ground, water rights, etc., which were introduced into court, and received as evidence of custom. Many of these were drawn with as much care as the laws enacted by a legislative body. So far as miners' civil jurisprudence was concerned, there was little to complain of.

The case was different, however, when the people undertook to manage criminal matters.

The administration of justice was strangely mixed with punishment, vengeance, and a love of blood-for the disposition of a considerable part of a community to engage in the destruction of life cannot have a better name than this last. Prudence and justice seem to have been habitually put aside in the excitement following an atrocious murder-or even a lesser crime; for the stealing of a sum as small as fifty dollars was made,

in obedience to public opinion, a capital offense, though, as a matter of fact, no California court ever punished theft with death. It was common enough in the mines, and even on the ranches, to hang for highway robbery, or for the stealing of cattle and horses. In most cases, especially where murder had been openly committed, substantial justice was administered. When the grade of the crime was uncertain, or accompanied with mitigating circumstances, the accused was generally turned over to the courts.

One of the most repulsive and unprofitable features of lynch law was the prominence it gave to that class of people who are always on the ragged edge of crime. If a crime had been committed, the class referred to were sure to put themselves in the lead, appearing to be the movers of public opinion, instead of followers. Scarcely an execution took place, in which the most active participants were not themselves of the criminal class, and good candidates for similar honors on some future occasion. In 1853 a most atrocious murder was committed by a young man named Messer. The victim was an inoffensive old man; the motive was simply a desire to kill some one for notoriety. The four young men who then officiated as executioners all came to violent deaths: one was slain in a bar-room quarrel; one was hung for murder, and one for theft, the manner of death

of the fourth being uncertain. In this case, as in others, the men were permitted, rather than put forward, to do the work repugnant to all good citizens. The prominence given them, however, often resulted in a supposed right to avenge imaginary wrongs, and in the commission of other crimes.

One of the most serious tragedies in the history of our State occurred in August, 1855. Rancheria, in Amador County, was a little town of perhaps two hundred inhabitants, the larger portion of whom were of the Spanish race, including Mexicans, Chilenos, Peruvians, etc. The town had the institutions common to all mining camps, such as a hotel or two, stores, saloons, and fandango houses, where whisky and other commodities were sold in small quantities to those who worked the shallow and generally poor mines of the neighborhood. There was no extensive mining; the Mexican, with his bataya, making two or three dollars per day, did the most work.

These Mexicans were a hard-working class, satisfied with a meager diet of frijoles and tortillas (beans, and thin bread baked on a hot stone) and a little aguardiente. Crimes, except petty thefts, were uncommon among them.

The place, however, occasionally had a few of the caballeros (horsemen), who, by virtue of superior birth and circumstances, felt they had a right to the goods, and even persons, of the peons, or lower class. Between them and all the better class of Americans there was a wide gulf of hatred, kept alive by recollections of the Mexican war and its results. The caballero could. not forget that a few years before California was part of his national domain; nor the American, that he was a conqueror. The Mexican could offer his neighbors, the Americanos, a cigarette with the utmost politeness, which, however, could not wholly disguise his unmitigated hatred of the conqueror, who scarcely ever failed to hint in some way a superiority.

The indolent caballero had an undisguised contempt for that restless energy which would tear up the ground like fiends to get out the gold, a condition of mind inconsistent with

the dignity of a high-bred Castilian. Caballeros were mostly gamblers by profession, to which, by an easy logical process, they added highway robbery, when the gam bling failed to keep them in funds. Many a traveler, with well-filled purse, was lost on the lonely trails between the towns of Amador and Eldorado Counties, and the disappearance was always credited to the Spanish caballero. It was known that members of some of the first Spanish families of the State had organized bands of robbers in Southern California, to plunder the cattle dealers, who often carried tens of thousands of dollars to make their purchases.

In this town, however, the few Americans had lived in peace with the poor, laboring peons, and an act of hostility, involving the death of a score or more of victims, was totally unlooked for.

The banditti who began the series of acts that culminated in wholesale murder and hanging, numbered about one dozen; of whom one appeared to be a negro, and one a recalcitrant American, the rest being Mexicans. Some were common vaqueros, and some were well educated, and belonged to the better class.

They were first seen at a place called Hacalitas, August 15th, where they stayed all night. The following day they went towards Drytown, robbing several Chinese camps on the way, and reached the town about dark. Here some of their own countrymen recognized their character, and put the people on their guard. A constable and deputy sheriff, who attempted to interview the party, were fired upon at sight, and a regular fusillade occurred, the balls rattling against the houses; though, owing to the darkness, no one was injured. The robbers, as they proved to be, withdrew from the town, moving towards Rancheria, which was about two miles away. It was now evident that murder or robbery was intended, and that the neighboring hamlet was to be the scene. Two or three hours were consumed in making up a party to follow them. Though but a few years had elapsed since the people journeyed across the plains fully armed, it was extremely dif

ficult to procure a sufficient number of serviceable arms to cope with the robbers; and when the pursuing party reached Rancheria, the town was silent as a tomb. Those who were not killed had fled, or were hidden away. The robbers had done their work and departed.

A store and hotel were gutted, the owners and occupants being either killed or left for dead. One man, with both legs broken, and otherwise fatally wounded, survived long enough to relate the story of the murders. Six white men, one woman, and an Indian were killed outright, and several more wounded.

It does not appear that the banditti made any further attacks. The alarm was spread in every direction, by telegraph and messengers, so that the people were everywhere on the alert, and the robbers left the county, traveling by night, and hiding by day. They were eventually overtaken in the southern part of Calaveras County, in the neighborhood of Chinese Camp.

The following morning, a large number of exasperated people, from all parts of the county, met at the place. The sight of the slain raised their anger to the highest pitch. Some were for an immediate war of extermination on all the Spanish race. All the males of the place, numbering about seventy, were brought together, and enclosed in a corral made of ropes. During the early stage of the proceedings a motion to hang the entire lot was voted on and carried.

It must not be supposed that there were no men there of cool brain; on the contrary, there were several present whose discretion and judgment could be relied on. Of this number were two elderly men by the name of Hinkson, and also Judge Curtis. They got control of the mass of people by putting themselves in the lead, and as they were men of character and good standing, the people trusted them. They did not oppose the popular determination, but advised caution: "Let us hang none but the guilty." Finding the guilty ones involved a trial of some sort, and a jury was selected and a court organized.

It may be asked, where the legal officers were during this time. The sheriff and his deputies were on the trail of the real murderers, who had left in a body, going south. The county court was in session at Jackson, but adjourned at noon, in consequence of the absence of jurors, witnesses, complainants, and defendants. Some of the officers were at the place during the day, after the work of the mob was over.

When order had been established, or at least partly so, witnesses were heard. The fact that the murderers came in a body and departed the same way was brought out, and that, except for being present, the mass of the population had nothing to do with the murderers. But victims must be given up, and three men were found guilty on the most worthless testimony, and sentenced to be hung. One man, who remained shut up in his house during the melée, thought he heard one of them crying, "Hurrah for Mexico"; another one, according to the same testimony, had been seen to place a light in the road in front of his house, and a third one to be running around with the banditti during the time of shooting.

A famous temperance orator, W. O. Clark, tried to turn aside the wrath of the people; but they were in no mood to hear fine speeches, and the threat of hanging him, also, sent him away. A Mrs. Ketchum was particularly active in stirring up the popular wrath.

The three victims were hung to a tree near by. One of them was a half-witted man, generally drunk on wine, and hence called Port Wine. He was almost incapable of crime. Some victims were necessary to satisfy the clamor for blood. The leaders of the trial averted a greater slaughter.

While the bodies were hanging to the tree, a vote was taken, expelling the whole Mexican population from the town or camp, four hours being given them in which to leave. The friends of the victims, in one instance a wife, begged for the bodies, that they might bury them before leaving.

When the news of the murders and the consequent excitement spread, there happened to be in the county a young educated

Spaniard by the name of Borquitas, who had been a private secretary for General Vallejo. Having a knowledge of English, he thought he might be of service in acting as mediator between the people and the accused. After conversing awhile with the residents of the camp, he expressed the opinion that none of those arrested had any part in the murders. This so enraged the people that a proposition was made to hang him. The suggestion met with little favor; but a man who had been loudest in demanding his hanging remarked that he would settle the dispute, and reached for his gun, drawing it towards him by the muzzle. It went off, and a heavy load of shot struck him in the breast, producing instant death. This accident caused so much excitement that Borquitas left the dan gerous locality.

The Mexicans all left the camp, most of them moving into Mile Gulch, about two miles away. The day after these affairs, a still larger crowd assembled at the scene of the murders, made more angry than on the first day by exaggerated rumors of more murders, and a proposed insurrection of the whole Spanish race on this Coast. Though a few hundreds of Americans had been able to conquer California in 1846, the absurdity was believed, notwithstanding the Americans outnumbered the natives a hundred to

one.

The new-comers destroyed all the huts of the Mexicans, as well as all other property they could find. It was resolved to drive all of the Spanish race out of the country. A large portion of the angry mob went to the gulch where the banished inhabitants had retired. Whether it was deliberately intended or not, a general slaughter began. Numbers of Indians joined in the affray. Many Mexicans were surprised in the holes where they were mining; others were shot down while in flight. The Indians, who would have been most destructive, were hindered in the pursuit and slaughter by the desire of plunder, tricking themselves out with the finery of their victims.

The people of other portions of the county proceeded to expel the Mexicans. At

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Sutter Creek, the same extravagant and absurd stories of an insurrection were in circulation. A committee of safety was appointed to provide means of defense. About sixty Mexicans, who were mining on Gopher Flat, were arrested and brought to town. One man, who was unfortunate enough to have been in Rancheria on the night of the murders, was hunted through the camp. He was found concealed beneath a pile of clothes which were being ironed, and was hung to two wagon tongues, elevated like a letter A, the wagons being locked to prevent them from running apart. The sixty were compelled to take the road out of the county.

The lower street of the town was inhabited by Spanish shop-keepers, and women and children. They also were compelled to leave, many of them climbing over the hills with bare feet. Other parties, self-appointed, went into the surrounding counties, disarming all the Mexicans they could find, and keeping the arms themselves.

The Spanish-speaking population at Drytown were mostly Chileno; hence the name Chile Flat, for the portion of the town where they resided. Though speaking the same language, the Chilenos and Mexicans did not intermingle much, so they could hardly be even suspected of any connection with the Rancheria affair. They had to bear part of the injustice meted to the others, however. On the following Sunday, when the excitement was supposed to have culminated, some fifteen or twenty men on horse-back came into the town, and made an attack on Chile Flat, setting fire to the brush shanties, and driving the people away. One miscreant, who bore the name of Boston, set fire to the Catholic church, which was also destroyed.

This was the last of the popular outbreaks, though a mass meeting was held at Jackson, the county seat, where it was proposed to outlaw the whole Mexican population; but the more thoughtful part of the people strongly opposed any such cruelty, and it was abandoned. During the week of the disturbance, exaggerated rumors of the numbers of