"I, Elizabeth Jennie Mooney, was born January 1st, 1845 in Sabula, Iowa. My maiden name was Elizabeth Jennie Smith.
After the discovery of gold in California, and the desire for the yellow dust had completely permeated the eastern states, in April, 1853, my mother, step-father and self started for the "Golden West." I was then eight years old. While only a child, I can remember practically the whole trip.
On April 4th, 1853, just before leaving our old home, a friend, Mrs. Halstead, presented me with a little Testament to bring with me to the "new world." We took the first boat to St. Paul, Minnesota, then to St. Louis and then to West Missouri where we bought our outfit. Here, mother was taken ill, which delayed us a week or so. Then on to Forth Leavenworth, where we joined the immense immigrant train, which consisted of 200 wagons, and then we were actually on our way.
As I remember, our trip was one of the safest, and least annoyed, that went across the old trail. We never lost any of our stock, and nver lost a member by death. Nor did we suffer any of the losses caused by the Indians, that some of the unfortunate pioneers did. I can safely say that I enjoyed the whole trip. So many trains had gone before us, that the trail was well defined. We were six months on the way.

On the Platte River we were overtaken by a terrible thunder storm. Such lightening I had never seen before.One time we were almost stampeded by buffalo. They rushed right by our train. The men killed 3 of them. One buffalo got one of our men down, but he was rescued and came out with only a few bruises and a broken watch which his wife lamented about more than the narrow escape which her husband had had.

One day we passed by a place where just a couple of days before a tragedy had been enacted. It seems that one of the young men in the train ahead of us had gotten into some sort of trouble and killed a young Indian woman. The Indians then overtook the train and the Chiefs then told the Captain of the train that unless they forced the parents to give up their son, they would massacre the whole train. There were several Indians there, and the whites knew they meant what they said, so they forced the parents to give up the boy. The Indians took him a short way ahead of the train, skinned him alive and then nailed him to a tree!

At Salt Lake, we made a short stay. Here we met a train of all men, but one woman, a Mrs. Sinclair. Mrs. Sinclair and her husband wanted to come to California, so this train took them as passengers.

At Salt Lake, the whites were at war with the Indians. The Indians would tear the fences down and turn their ponies into the owners fields of grain, take anything they wished, and the owner would not dare to say anything to them.

After we passed Sal Lake, one day we were held up by 600 Indians. They wanted provisions. As each wagon only had enough provisions to last them, we could not give them any. The Indians said that they would kill everyone and take everything unless they received provisions. The whites then held another consultation and decided to cook them one meal. This the Indians agreed to so the women cooked enough to feed 600 Indians. After they had eaten, they all got on their ponies and left us to go on our way.

As I was the only child in our family, I will have to admit that I was a bit spoiled and petted, so before we started on our journey I insisted that I would have to have butter for my bread. So a supply of butter was put in for my benefit. After a few months, the butter gave out. So one day we ran across a cow and a calf that had been lost by some of the immigrants. Some of the men in our party wanted to kill them so we could have fresh meat, but as I could not get along without butter, my mother insisted that my step-father buy the cow and from then on she made butter for me.
So one day after we had come into a little valley we came across a family with several children who had gotten lost from their train and had been without food for two days. The children were crying for food. Several of the ladies in our train went over and took food to them. But one little child, I can see her now, stood up in the back of the wagon crying as hard as she could. My mother came back and said, "Jennie, see that little child crying. She hasn't had anything to eat for two days, so won't you give her a little of your butter for her bread?" I was very jealous of the fact I was the only one who had butter, so I threw back my head and said, "Well, I guess if she hasn't had anything to eat for two days, she ought to be glad to get bread without butter."
At night when we made camp, the women always cooked enough for the next day as we couldn't stop to do any cooking on the way.

When we arrived at Beckwourth's we found some friends by the name of Smith, so we stayed there for six weeks. From there I rode a horse on to Marysville. We came by the way of "76." This old town or settlement is now extinct, so to say, as not a building remains to mark the place.
We arrived in Marysville in October of the same year making the trip in six months. We spent the first winter on the other side of the Buttes. The men hunted and peddled wild game that winter, and there was plenty of it then.

In the spring we moved to Yuba City where my step-father butchered, as this was his trade. Here I went to school to a Mr. Wilcoxon.

In 1854 we went back to the Sacramento River and the day before Christmas we started north to Shasta Canyon, above Red Bluff. Here my folks ran a hotel for three months. Then we moved back to Red Bluff where we made our home until 1857. I was the first child to go to school in Red Bluff. I had a private teacher and this led to the first public school in Red Bluff.

We had only been in Red Bluff about three weeks when we saw an actual demonstration of the "course of the law" in the early days. There was no pondering of evidence, but their actions were sure and quick. A few hundred yards from our house was a little grove of trees growing. One evening when my step-father came in he said, "Look, Jennie, tomorrow they are going to bring a man and hang him on one of those trees." He was always joshing me, so said this to tease me, not knowing how true his words were. The next day I was down the street, for at that time there was only one street in Red Bluff, playing with some other little children when a little boy came running up and told me they were hanging a man down by our house. I ran home as fast as I could for I remembered what my stepfather had said to me the night before. When I got there, sure enough there was a crowd of at lest a hundred people gathered over by this grove of trees. My mother took me by the hand and we went over to see what was going on. When we got there we saw a man with a rope around his neck hanging from the tree. I will never forget how one woman brushed by my mother and said, "I've been here in California a long time and I want to see if it is anyone I know," went up to the man and swung him around by the feet to see if she recognized him. Of course we wanted to know why he was hanged. It seemed a family by the name of McIntosh had moved from their place on "Lone Tree" and left a little house and a few things there as they still owned the place. Some poor unfortunate man came along, sick and hungry and out of work, saw a mule standing by the deserted house and found an old saddle there, so he patched it up and rode into Red Bluff in search of something to eat and work. He then started back with the mule when he was caught, brought back and the next day, hanged.

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I quit school when I was 12 years old.

September 6th, 1857 we moved to Oregon Gulch, Butte County. That winter we boarded about 18 men. We then moved across the river to String Town and later to Enterprise. There was a great mining boom on at these locations at this time.
It was at Stringtown that I met my husband, Mr. Mooney. Mr. Mooney left Boston in 1849 and came around the horn. We were married at Stringtown in 1861. I was then 16 years of age. It was the month of May.
There was no church there, but a minister by the name of Nelson came once a month. Four children were born at Stringtown.
At this time Stringtown was one of the important mining centers. Many a time on Sunday I have seen at least 400 or 500 miners come in to do their trading. The town supported a large hotel, many stores, saloons, and now, not a building marks the place. In 1862 the hotel in Stringtown burned.
Later we made our home at Enterprise, just a short distance from Stringtown. Here my husband and several children are buried.
At first, it was all placer mining and then hydraulic and then river mining. I have in my possession now, a bottle of gold dust which was part of the dust sifted out of one week's work by my husband on Cedar Claim on the South Fork of the Feather River in 1859. The miners always got at least a half cup of gold every clean up.
I can remember, while at Oregon Gulch, going out after a heavy rain and picking up nuggets.
About the only social times we had were dancing. I went to my first dance in Yuba City in 1854.
At Stringtown and Enterprise, Bill Jones was the chief fiddler. He received from $20 a night on up. Sometimes they had a band which consisted of violins, guitars and banjo. Henry Vail and Jim Vail were members of this band. When we went to a dance to a neighboring town we always went on horseback. I recall one dance we attended at Berry Creek when a party of 25 came all on horseback."

This excerpt is printed in the Butte County Historical Society Diggin's magazine, Vol. 41, No. 3 & 4 [Fall/Winter 1997]. Jennie Mooney is buried in Pioneer Cemetary in Oroville.