"All's not Gold that Glitters;" or, The Young Californian

The “Squire” had just driven up to the Post Office, which was at one end of the village tavern, and a man hanging to a post that upheld the piazza addressed him.

“Why, father!” was the surprised and cheerful exclamation of Mrs. Gilman, as her husband entered the room. It was an unusually early hour for him, and besides, she saw his step...

As she sat alone by the broad flagging of the hearth, she could hear the heavy breathing of her husband in the next room, the ceaseless ticking of the clock, the purr of the cat...

It is strange how soon the most startling things that happen to us, settle into a matter of course. Before another Saturday night the whole Gilman family thought and talked of “...

Their future constant companion joined the father and son, as might be expected, at Mooney’s Tavern. He had no leave-takings to subdue the boisterous spirits in which he set out...

A fair and prosperous voyage was prophesied by all, as the vessel flew along the Gulf Stream, the air growing softer with every day’s advance, and a fair wind keeping the office...

“Where do you suppose they are now, mother?” Hannah Gilman kept her finger on the map, as she looked up to ask the question. She was tracing out for the twentieth time, the trac...

It was the Fourth of July, the great holiday of boys, if not of the nation, when the Swiftsure came slowly into the magnificent harbor of San Francisco. The weather-beaten sails...

Sam did wish Ben could have seen them, as they started across the plains in the wake of the team on which their cooking and mining utensils were carried. Several of the sloop’s...

And now the romance of “going to California” began to subside into the dull reality of a pick and shovel. The claim would never have been purchased but for Sam. It did not suit...

Sam was always up at the earliest light, and busied himself about the tent, preparing breakfast, which was generally ready before Mr. Gilman woke. The first warning he had of hi...

He came slowly down the ravine, still heavy with shadows, while the sun was shining above him, and on the bed of the river below. The tents were deserted and still, the men were...

“Well, what now?” one of his neighbors called out, as Sam struck his shovel into the ground and turned over his pan face downwards, one fine April morning. The men were in high...

“My dear, _dear_ child” (Sam could almost hear his mother say these precious words), “I am writing to you to-night, though our Heavenly Father only can tell whether you will eve...

“Hadn’t you better come, _Miss_ Gilman? the sleigh can hold just as many as we can pile in, and my wife don’t stint her oven Thanksgiving Day,” urged the Deacon, standing up in...