At this time the mining camps of Washoe were the centre of attraction, and thither our subject bent his steps, passing through California, across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, by way of the Hennis Pass, into the adjoining territory of Nevada. Here he finally settled at Virginia City, in the world-famed Comstock lode, having walked every foot of the way in company with four others from the City of Sacramento, a distance of 217 miles. Each man carried his outfit and some provisions. This was made into a bundle which he carried on his back, held by a strap which passed across his breast One evening when they reached the summit of the Hennis Pass, and in the region of everlasting snow, they were so fatigued they could proceed no farther. To have lain down on their blankets would have been certain death from exposure to the intense cold in such high altitudes. They fortunately found a small cabin built of boards, where they each paid a dollar for the privilege of spreading their blankets on the floor, where they might rest for the night. In the morning they set out again on their dreary way, and pushed on toward the Eldorado where all expected to find gold.

The city of Virginia at this time was composed partly of tents and partly of buildings, and was the liveliest camp on the face of the earth. There was no difference then between night and day, Sunday or weekday so far as work and amusements were concerned. Some danced all night, some gambled all night, and some worked all night, changing places with each other for a rest. There were also churches there and a few good people doing their utmost trying to stem the torrent of vice and bloodshed. But notwithstanding their best efforts, many, very many indeed, were laid to rest in the graveyard across the Gould and Currie ravine, slain by a brother's hand. In at this time was set at defiance. The courts were helpless; every man went armed, and not until the vigilance committee went to work in good earnest, hanging men up by the neck, ticketed with the committee's initials 602, was there any reformation.

Not long after the organization of this committee, an opportunity opened itself for a display of their ghastly operations. A young man by the name of Perkins had received from one of the frequenters of the saloons what he supposed was an insult, and, in the true spirit of the place, at once drew his revolver and shot his opponent on the spot. This young person was a piano player in what was known as Scott's dance house, one of the hells in Virginia City. This man the committee determined should be their first victim. On the night following the committal of the crime he had retired to his room and was preparing to undress, and had removed one of his shoes. The committee entered his chamber, seized the young fellow, and partly undressed as he was, bore him off to the place of execution decided upon, where he should expiate with his life the crime he had so recently committed. He begged piteously for his life, or for such time as to write to his mother, who was far away in the east, perhaps at that very moment thinking of her son. But prayers and supplications were lost on the unrelenting hearts of his murderers, and with the shoe removed from one of his feet, and the other still on, he was led to the place selected for his execution. This was at a mine contiguous to the city. At the entrance, where the drift penetrated the side of the mountain, a framework was erected to prevent the earth falling on the roadway beneath it. Under the framework a wagon loaded with ore was drawn, and the culprit placed thereon. A rope was fastened to the frame over head in the mine and round the man's neck, when the wagon was withdrawn and the poor fellow launched into eternity and ticketed as the first offering of the number 602.

That such a state of affairs should exist within the territories of what we consider as one of the most highly civilized nations in the world, indicates in a marked degree the carelessness and neglect by the central authority of the highest functions of government - the protection of the lives and property of its citizens. The triumvirs of the French Revolution were not more potent for evil than this association which had adopted for its trademark the number 602. It made its own laws, reached out its irresistible arm for the victim, was its own judge and jury, condemned the culprit, and led him to execution The state of society must have been deplorable that sought its safety in the power of such a tribunal. Indeed, so callous had the people become to the waste of human life that the two daily papers published in Virginia City, when no murder had been committed during the night previous, had in their leading column in the morning, printed in large letters, "No man for breakfast this morning."

We would not have dwelt on this subject to so great a length but as a warning to any of our young and adventurous Canadians who may read this sketch, to consider well before casting in their lot in a country where such a state of things could exist. Let them contrast the mention of the Yukon with that of Virginia City. Many of these old prospectors who had played their part in the scenes described attempted to establish the same state of thing in the Yukon; but there they found British justice meted out by that arm which is ever ready and always able to maintain order and protect the lives and property of her humblest citizen, not only within her own borders, but in every corner of the earth.

On a beautiful quiet summer evening, the subject of our sketch, having completed the labors of the day, had retired to his cabin for the night. Sitting alone by the fire and ruminating no doubt on his past adventurous life, and building air castles in the future, he was aroused from his reverie by a knocking at the cabin door. He made hasty preparations to receive his visitor, as was the custom in that country by examining his arms to see if they were in condition to meet the worst. Whether it passed through his mind that he might be wanted for a sign-board where the No. 602 might be tacked on or not we are unable to say. He cautiously unbolted the cabin door, and there stood before him a tall, lean, bony man, with a slouch hat, who at once extended his hand, grasped Mr. Sanderson's, and shook it vigorously. This man was Mr. John Hannah, from Kirkton. The surprise of both men and the congratulations that passed between, may be imagined. After a pleasant chat about Blanshard and old times, Mr. Sanderson, being a true Englishman, set about making preparations for a great feast next day, at being the Sabbath. His larder not being richly provided, he, in company with his guest repaired to the city, where he intended to lay in a supply of mutton and beans for dinner. As they were walking along they stepped into a gambling saloon, where Mr. Hannah could see for himself the style of living in Virginia City. As they stood near one of the tables, a tall, respectable looking gentleman came forward, and placing his hand on the able, happened to lean on one of the men engaged in play. This man pushed the gentleman somewhat rudely away, when without a word being said on either side, he drew his pistol, fired, and shot the player dead. Mr. Hannah, who had lived his whole life among the quiet shades of Fish Creek, was horrified, and left the saloon in terror.

Mr. Sanderson having secured his mutton and beans, they returned to the cabin, where, after conversing on old times till the night was far advanced, they retired to their repose. In the morning Mr. S. was astir bright and early, attending to his duties, and making preparations for a great dinner. The mutton and beans were placed in the oven and a blazing fire built in the fireplace. Both gentlemen were enjoying themselves rehearsing the many scenes incident to backwoods life in Blanshard, and forgetting the roast. At last Mr. Hannah drew attention to a great smoke proceeding from the oven where the meat and beans were cooking. On opening the door it was found that the food had taken fire from the excessive heat. The host rushed to the stove, grasped the savory dish, drew it out and in his haste spilled the whole contents on the cabin floor. This was a sad catastrophe, but he was equal to the occasion. He seized a ladle, scooped up the savory particles, and served them up in his best style. Of course he scooped up more than mutton and beans, but the pieces of clay that ground in their teeth as they enjoyed their repast seemed only to give zest to what was declared by both gentlemen as an excellent dinner. Some time after these events another gentleman from Kirkton appeared on the scene in the person of Mr. William Hannah, brother of J. Hannah, who was father to John and William Hannah, at present residing on the old place between Wooham and Kirkton. This unfortunate and kind-hearted man, shortly after coming to Gold Hill, lost his life in one of the drifts, Mr. Sanderson, with the true Canadian spirit, obtained his body, prepared it decently for burial, and reverently laid it in its last resting place.

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