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Madame Henrico’s Diary Spring 1877

My dear mother, may God rest her soul, always used to say that “you can get more flies with honey than with vinegar.”  Not wanting to waste good advice, I have puzzled over exactly what was her meaning.  With all due respect I just may have discovered that in certain circumstances vinegar may be quite useful indeed when added to the honey.

After many false starts spring had finally arrived in the Gulch. I awoke to the sound of birds. I greeted the chipmunk pair who lived in the retaining wall under my cabin. I saw butterflies light on the trees as I shoveled my way, hopefully for the last time, to my root cellar.

I had big plans for the day. I was going downtown to pick up my mail. The latest edition of Godey’s Lady’s Book should be here by now. A smart seamstress needs to be able to show the ladies of the camp the newest fashions.  Then I will bake myself a nice fruit pie for supper. The first sign that things were not entirely going to break my way was when I got to the root cellar and found the last of my apples rotted.  I threw them over to my horse and trudged downtown through the mud. It would be another vinegar pie for me.

Main Street was jammed.  First off I thought there had been a shooting.  Then I found out about the new mail rule instituted by Mr. Solomon Star.  Every man (and woman, of course) had to pick up his own mail.  That meant that every miner in the Gulch had to be standing in line for close to forever in the hopes of getting an envelope with his name on it. Talk about a waste of time.  We were here to mine gold not stand in line.  If you can’t send a friend for your mail in Indian country what has this world come to?  But that wasn’t the worst of it.

As you were standing in this silly line, members of the newly formed fire commission were going from man to man inquiring as to whether he had had his chimney inspected as yet and whether he had the required water barrels, fire buckets and ladders at the ready. These members of the fire commission were then planning to pay everyone a visit to make sure that what you said was so.  And if it wasn’t they were planning to impose a fine. I don’t have to tell you that the crowd was getting a bit unruly due to the inconvenience and the steady consumption of liquid refreshment to take everyone’s mind off their trouble.

Just when I thought I couldn’t wait any longer the two men in front of me got into a fistfight over who was next.  When they drew their knives Sheriff Bullock hauled them both off to jail and I was finally next.  Mr. Star handed me my tattered magazine and I turned to go. It wouldn’t do any good to complain about the quality of the mail handling. I was lucky to get my two month old magazine all the way from Philadelphia. Instead, he called after me.

“Madame Henrico, if you please, we were round about your place and didn’t see the required fire fighting equipment. The commission would like to know your plans for complying with the new law.”

How many hats can one man wear?  What law would they come up with next?  Where do they think they are—New York City?  Pretty soon they’re going to be telling us where to spit our tobacco.  It was no mystery where I was supposed to buy this required equipment—Star & Bullock Hardware.  This man had me coming and going and waiting and spending in between.  That is, until I remembered what my mother had said about honey and vinegar. Everyone knew that Mr. Star was a bachelor and a noted lover of pie. In a flash I saw my way clear to a favorable inspection outcome with minimal expense to myself.

“Why Mr. Star, why don’t you come along tonight and conduct that inspection?  There’ll be fresh baked pie on the table and you can see for yourself how eager I am to get right with your new law.”  The deal was struck and I was on my way out of that unruly, smelly crowd. But not before I warned my friend Miss Kitty that the fire commission was on its way to her place. I had full confidence that she would know how to deal with them.  No one, but no one, makes fresh biscuits like Miss Kitty.

Needless to say I passed that inspection with flying colors. Could have been the honey attitude and vinegar pie.  Could have been that last bottle of dandelion wine that I am famous for here in the Gulch. I’ll leave that up to you.  But, as I always say, listen to your mother. She knows best. And wish her a Happy Mother’s Day for me!     

Madame Henrico Livingstone was the camp’s first lady miner. She was also a noted clairvoyant, fortune teller and seamstress.