The New Dominion

General Sutter.

Biographical Story of the Man Who Discovered Gold in California.

The name inscribed here is the name of General John Augustus Sutter, whose mill-race on the bank of the Sacramento was the source of all the mighty stream of gold that has flowed from California, says a correspondent, describing a grave in the Moravian burying ground at Lititz, Pa. He who is now first only in this very humble community where all others are equal made the discovery that shook the financial centers of both hemispheres, won half a continent to civilization and created bonanza kings to be Senators and their wives to be the envy of the most distinguished society abroad. Buried along with those who abhorred war and would not fight on any account, he in his life-time wore swords in the armies of three nations. Once in possession of land now worth $100,000,000, he lived the last sixteen years of his life dependent on an allowance from the State of California. He made millionaires and died a pensioner. He was always a wanderer. Born in Baden in 1803, he graduated from the military college at Berne at the age of twenty and enlisted in the Swiss guard of the French army, the successors of that famous band of mercenaries who were so faithfully butchered in the marble halls of Versailles thirty years before. After seven years' service he changed his colors and entered the Swiss army, where he served four years. Then he put off his uniform and shortly came to this country. In 1838, with six companions, he went across the plains to Oregon and down the Columbia river to Vancouver, whence he sailed to the Sandwich Islands. There he got an interest in a trading vessel, with which he sailed to Sitka and the seal islands up toward Behring's sea. Turning southward after some profitable trading, he arrived in the bay of San Francisco July 2, 1839. The appearance of the country pleased him and he decided to remain. He made a settlement some distance up the Sacramento river, built a grist-mill, a tannery and a fort, founded a colony and called it, for the sake of having an Alpine murmur in his ears, New Helvetia. His restless energy was still unsatisfied. He took a commission as Captain in the Mexican service and afterward served as a magistrate under the same Government. He took no active part in the war against this country, and after the annexation he was alcalde, Indian Commissioner and member of the California constitutional convention. In 1848 came the discovery that enriched the world and impoverished him. Marshall, a laborer digging out a new race to Sutter's mill, picked up a curious lump of something yellow, which Sutter at once recognized as gold. The mill-race was never finished. The laborer turned his pick to a more ambitious purpose, and set out to dig himself a fortune. The miller bought himself a shovel and went forth to take toll of the yellow sand. The stream that was to turn the mill-wheel became suddenly worth more than any grist it could grind. The sequel is well known. The rushing tide of Argonauts overwhelmed the little colony of New Helvetia, and washed away Sutter's imperfect title to his land. He made a brave fight and a long one. He laid claim to thirty-three square leagues of land, including that on which the cities of Sacramento and Marysville now stand. After long delay the Commissioner of Public Lands allowed the claim, and after more delay the Supreme Court of the United States reversed the decision. Then General Sutter carried his claim before Congress, to go through the tedious experience of most people who take claims there. He was still prosecuting it in 1871, when he happened to come to Lititz to drink the wholesome waters of its spring. The quiet of the place and the peaceful life of its people appealed to the restless old man, who was beginning to get tired of his long battle, and he made his home there—"until I get my claim through," he said. He was at Washington, still getting his claim through, when death overtook him in 1880. His Moravian neighbors made room for him in a corner of the burying ground, although as he was not a member of their congregation, he could not be buried with the trombone. When a Moravian dies, at whatever hour of the day or night, a man mounts the tower of the quaint squat church and blows a doleful signal on a trombone. The trombone-player also marches at the head of the funeral procession, playing solemn music.—Philadelphia Times.