John Ross Browne (1817-1875) of Kentucky, the official reporter for the California State Constitutional Convention of 1849, came to California in 1849 as an employee of the government revenue service. He traveled widely in the next two decades, including a stay in China as U.S. minister, before settling down in Oakland in 1870. Crusoe's island (1864) contains four short works: (1) Crusoe's island, an account of his visits to Juan Fernandez, the island off the Chilean coast where Alexander Selkirk's experiences are supposed to have been the basis of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe; (2) A dangerous journey, an account of Browne's 1849 journey by horseback from San Francisco to San Luis Obispo; (3) Observations in office, which summarizes his experiences as a functionary of the Treasury Department sent to the Pacific Coast in 1858 to examine customs houses, with chapters on a controversy in Port Townsend, Washington, concerning the sale of liquor to Native Americans and on the exploitation of Native Americans in California; and (4) A peep at Washoe, inspired by the latest "rush," that for gold in the Washoe region of the Sierra Nevada, including Browne's reflections on mining fevers and his recollections of his own travels through Nevada and California mining districts.

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1867 edition. Excerpt: ... canopy? Surely the evil spirit must be strong in the hearts of men who, unconscious of the reproving purity of such a night, could thus forget their sins, and lie calmly sleeping upon the bosom of their mother earth. How deadened by a long career of crime must conscience be in the breast of him who, steeped in guilt, could thus, in the presence of his Maker, "O'erlabored with his being's strife, Sink to that sweet forgetfulness of life!" Neither the Colonel nor the man Jack moved an inch after taking their places. I almost envied them their capacity to sleep, so gentle and profound was their oblivion to the world and all its cares. To me this refreshing luxury was denied. My fate seemed to hang upon a thread. I could not feel any confidence in these men. They might become suspicious at any moment, and murder me as I lay helpless before them. For over two hours I watched them; they never moved. The probable fact was, they had made up their minds not to molest me, in view of the large sum of money I expected to collect at San Luis. My course seemed clear enough. But here was the difficulty. 1 could do nothing without my papers. Nor was I content to lose my mule, saddle, and blankets, which I knew to be in their possession. The tall man, Griff, was restless, and turned repeatedly, moaning in his sleep, " God have pity on me! Oh God, have pity on me!" It was a sad sight to behold him. No mortal eye could fathom the sufferings that thus moved him. Truly, "The mind that broods o'er guilty woes Is like a scorpion girt by fire." At length--it must have been about an hour before day--he arose, looked cautiously around, and, seeing all quiet, beckoned to me, and stealthily left the camp. On his way out he gathered up...

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