Central City, Colorado Territory

Though neither letter is signed with anything other than “Albert,” I was able to attribute the following letters to Albert Wesley Pillsbury (1834-1914), the son of Methodist clergyman, Rev. Samuel Pillsbury (1802-1888) and Eliza A. Latta (1809-1883) of Durand, Winnebago county, Illinois.

Albert wrote the letters to Marion C. Chamberlain (1836-1872), a native of Canada, who was enumerated as a schoolteacher in Durand, Winnebago county, Illinois in the 1860 US Census. In the 1870 US Census, Albert and Marion were residing as man and wife in Virginia City, Madison county, Montana, where Albert was farming and Marion was “Keeping House.”

Albert wrote both letters from Lake Gulch in the Central City Gold Mining region of Colorado Territory, in November 1861. In local news he writes of hunting down a horse thief and of a devastating fire in nearby Nevada City [Nevadaville]. He also writes some of the what he hears about the war back East and of the enlistments both in Denver as well as in Illinois.

Letter 1

*Addressed to Miss. M. C. Chamberlain, Pecatonica, Winnebago county, Illinois*

Lake Gulch, Colorado Territory
November 3rd 1861

Dearest Marion,

I received two letters from you the 23rd of last month. One was dated August 26th and the other September 10th. It had ben so long since I received the last that they done me much good. I noticed in myself that I appeared more cheerful afterwards. I hope that I will not always be in the Rocky Mountains where my most happy moments are derived in reading letters from loved and absent friends. I feel sad sometimes when I think that I am so far from the “loved ones at home.” Then again, when I think of the circumstances of thousands of others who are in the war and in this country too, I think my lot is no harder than theirs whose friends are just as dear to them as mine to me. Sometimes I think that I will go home where I can enjoy myself with friends and the loved—that I will not stay here in this “vale of tears” where all seem to meet and pass each other as strangers. These are reflections in moments of sadness. At other times with spirits more gay. I think that I will strive with renewed vigor to obtain the object for which I came here; that this is just the place for me to do it. I hope that I will realize my anticipations. Hope is the bright star that leads us on through the vicissitudes of our existence. Tis the elixir of life.

November 16, 1861

Tis said that delays are dangerous. I don’t know but it is dangerous to send this broken letter at this late hour. But I will render my excuses and venture to risk it. As you see, I had a letter commenced on the 3rd but was hindered in finishing it that day by company. So I thought I would finish it & send it by next mail, but was called off to engage in hunting up a horse thief & did not return until the day before yesterday. While one, I was at Denver which is as ever the “murderous city.” Last week there were eight men shot there of which two are dead. They have had considerable trouble there with the soldiers. A good many of my acquaintances have enlisted. One of the murderers now confined in the Denver jail awaiting his trial I am well acquainted with. I call him a murderer although he did not kill the man he shot—but it will go hard with him as the man he shot was a captain of the Home Guards there. He was one of the last whom I should have thought would have shot a man. But tis said that he was under the influence of liquor. Another lesson to those who are tempted to raise their pleasures and enjoyments or drown their sorrows by using the “sparkling wine.” Too many are the times in such cases that the pleasures induced in this way bring pain and sorrow upon the individual and all his friends. But still there are those who heed not the lesson. ¹

The Governor of this Territory [William Gilpin] is going to a great expense in the War Department and it is generally thought by citizens that it is needless. Undoubtedly upon examination there will be found a great deal of corruption in government affairs here. I sometimes think that our glorious government is fast falling to ruin. That it will yet prove to the world to be a failure. It seems that everything is proving favorable to such an end. The ones in whom we placed the most confidence are, it seems, trying to use it to the gratification of their own desires. It seems that they are standing still before the traitorous enemy, and when there is a sacrifice made, it consists of our bravest and best men. We have not many [Nathaniel] Lyons and [Edward D.] Bakers to dispose of at this critical period.

I have not received any letters since the ones of which I mentioned in the commencement of this. I am waiting in great expectation: but when I think of being disappointed, I remember that you are looking as anxiously as I am. But you don’t know how I long for a letter from you. I am so afraid that you will not say what you truly think about my coming home. I know if I don’t come you will be disappointed. “Every heart has its secret drawer.” I think sometimes it would be best for us all to have some friend in which to confide our troubles. At home I had two or three confiding friends, and I miss them here. Do you suppose that home will ever appear home to me again. It seems that I will be a stranger there. If I receive a letter this week, I will answer by next mail. I hope you will overlook my long delays. Direct to Central City, Colorado Territory.

Write soon. Yours as ever in love, truth and fidelity, — Albert

¹ The Captain of the Home Guards was Capt. Zeiglemuller. It was the Orderly of the Rifles that shot the captain in a financial dispute between them.

Letter 2

Lake Gulch, Colorado Territory
November 24, 1861

“O! that my prayer might unto heaven ascend,
T’would be that thou went ever blest;
That joy and sunlight, thy path might blind
And tranquil visions lull thy peaceful rest.”

My dearest Marion,

In my last I promised if I should receive a letter this week from you that I would answer it by return mail. I am very glad that I have been enabled to fulfill the promise. It much rejoices me to learn that your organ of hope is so very large. If a person could believe without a doubt (and never even think otherwise) in the idea that you advanced in your last, that is, “that good and evil alike, when come from God were blessings,” they necessarily would be happy. You say that you do think that I will be with you before Christmas. Now it makes me feel sorry to think that you are to be so much disappointed. Still I don’t entertain the idea that it will cause you to commit suicide or any other rash deed. “The way the twig is bent, the tree is inclined.” We may as well learn to stand grief while we are young; then it will not be so hard for us to endure it in riper years. It may tend to more fully prove to your mind that doctrine you so frequently advance—viz: “It is all for the best.” I expect you will say that is poor consolation for me. Still, I hope “it is all for the best.”

I don’t get any letters lately from home. Perhaps they think that we will be at home in a few days and it is of no use to write. I am sorry to disappoint them so much. But I don’t see any need of this being lonesome if we don’t come. I expect they are having fine times going to school as I suppose it has commenced before this time. The girls in Durand will have nothing to do this winter but study, as the young men are all gone so that they will not be likely to be bothered going to parties, &c. It must be rather dull times there in general. Who is to be married this winter? None, no not one, “nary one.”

I was much surprised to hear of the proceedings of Mr. & Mrs. D. J. Stines upon his volunteering. She must think a great deal of her country. If I had been in Lumpster’s place, I believe that I should have told her to wait a little longer—that she was not old enough to get to marry. He must have seen at once, if he would have considered any upon the matter of backing out, that it would forever be a stigma upon his character as a true patriot, as a lover of his birthright. I would not have such a charge brought against my name and known right amongst my own folks to be true for all the women in God’s footstool. I had twice, or even a thousand times rather die for my country. But I suppose there are some grounds to partially excuse Demp. upon. I suppose his mother thought it was dreadful for him to go. But I can imagine in my own mind how she talks about the war. I will bet that she thinks it the duty of everyone to go. She thinks that government should compel a force to march upon the enemy longer than it now has. I can just see in my mind how she gets up in meeting and sympathizes for her country, grieves at its wrongs, and wishes for every loyal American to resent those wrongs, to gather around the standard of her flag and protect it to the last extremity. But she don’t want Demp to go. There is too much rish to run. “Twould make Mary sick to have him go to the war. She would not give her son for the final salvation of the whole human family. No, she would not even risk her wealth, or future prosperity for such a gift. She would rather teach herself that it was an impossibility—that all don’t deserve any such merits. Self rules predominant in her mind to believe any such doctrine, tis too liberal. But Mary’s and Mrs. Stine’s whining would not in my mind justify his turning traitor to his country.

*Nevadaville before the November 1861 fire*

Week before last this portion of the mountains were thrown into a great deal of excitement by fire. There were about fifty houses burned in Nevada City [Nevadaville] which is about one and a half miles from here. The wind blew awfully. It seemed as if the elements were bound to drive the people from this part of the mountains. It was as light as day anywhere within a mile of the fire. Everything here is so dry and so full of pitch and the wind so dreadful that when fire breaks out, it is apt to do a great deal of damage. There were not many goods burned. They took them and threw them into bad holes and put them into tunnels, but a great many of them were destroyed and damaged by moving them so hastily. Besides these were several families burned out but no one burned to death. The people in Central City, which is about three-quarters of a mile from Nevada, took all of the goods out of the place, supposing that it would be destroyed also. Teams got broke $10 to $25 per load for hauling goods to the nearest prospect hole or tunnel. But luckily the fire did not do any damage there, but it caught fire a great many times and was put out. This all happened in the night which made it much more fearful. The air was filled with flying sparks. It blew them as much as a mile, which made the fire jump from mountain to mountain. The family that I live with got their goods all packed up and out ready to start, but were not damaged any, but dreadfully frightened. ¹

Write soon. Direct as usual. You don’t know how I want to find out about what you think of my coming home. I am afraid that you will not say as you think about it. No more at present. I hope that you will ever believe that I am your true and affectionate lover. Goodbye for a while, — Albert

¹ In 1861 a fire destroyed most of the town. A newspaper article about the fire stated that there were around 40 stamp mills in the vicinity of Nevada, a staggering number for that early date, which surely made the town the milling center of Colorado at that time.

*Van wrote the 1873 to William Van Nostrand, shown here.*

The following letter was written by 52 year-old C. Van Piper who we learn was the station agent in Nunda, Livingston county, New York, before heading west in 1873 with his wife Susan to accept a similar position in Boulder, Colorado Territory. The letter was written in two parts, by both “Van” (as his wife called him) and by his wife.

Van addressed his letter to William Van Nostrand (1835-1925), a native of Allegany county, New York, whose father, Luzon Van Nostrand (1807-1895) was an early settle of Short Tract. In 1880, William was enumerated at Nunda Station, Livingston county, New York, where he ran a saw and planing mill. He was married to Susan Maria Swain (1839-1902).

In his letter, Van writes of his journey from Chicago to Colorado by train but first stops to see Henry Moore Teller, a native of Allegany county, New York, who earned a law degree and settled in Morrison, Whiteside county, Illinois, before joining the gold-seekers in Colorado in April 1861. Rather than pan for gold, however, Teller accumulated wealth as a supplier and opened an office in Central City—the chief mining area west of Denver. In 1865 he drew up the charter for the Colorado Central Railroad and got the Territorial legislature to back the project. Henry and his brother Willard built a hotel in Central City in 1871-72 which was the town’s main hotel for more than 60 years.

*The Teller House, built in 1871-72, still stands today in Central City, Colorado*

Transcription

*Addressed to Wm. Van Nostrand, Short Tract, Allegany County, NY*

Colorado Central Railroad
Boulder Station
October 27, 1873

Wm. Van Nostrand
Dear Sir,

You have probably heard how I slid out and left Nunda Station. No living soul knew where I was going when I left home except my wife—not even my mother—but I was bound to see this country and here I am and not sorry for it. It was a fine ride for me. After I left Chicago, I stopped at Mr. Teller’s [in Morrison] and then met H[enry] M[oore Teller. Stayed from Thursday till Tuesday and then left for Colorado, passing through Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, touched Wyoming Territory, and then Colorado.

We left the Union Pacific Railroad at Cheyenne (pronounced Shyan) and took the Denver Pacific Railroad 106 miles and this was a very pleasant and interesting road. On the west you can see the Rocky Mountains with their snow-clad peaks and on the east the broad plains as far as the eye can reach and all dotted over with large herds of cattle, accompanied with their her wagons and tents—a most splendid sight to me. You can see so far in this country. The air is so clear you have a fair view of the mountains—can see them for some 300 miles.

*The narrow gauge Colorado Central Railroad in Clear Creek Canyon*

I was disappointed in the way they look. I supposed we would come to them by degrees but not so. You keep on the plains and all at once as it were you come to them staring you in the face and saying, hold! and come no farther, but man is a progressive animal and into them he has you in search of the precious metals and it is wonderful to see what man can accomplish. For instance, the railroad running from Golden to Central City follows up Clear Creek Canion and is wonderful to behold. Rocks from 5 to 1500 feet high piled in all manner of shapes and the railroad track cut in the rocks and crooked. Not half of the time you can see either end of the train. But I cannot describe it. You must come and see for yourself and it will pay you well.

This is a great country for stocking can keep all you choose and no fodering winters. They say you can turn out an old broken down ox in the fall and he will come out fat in the spring. If your wife and girls was here and had about 30 coins [?] and 500 hens, could make as much money as all Grangers. Butter 40 cents, eggs 40 cents, and they say you can keep eggs till the Holidays. You can get from 6 to 8 bits per dozen up in the mountains among the miners. They do raise the finest wheat I ever saw sown—white and plump—and spring at that. Oh what nice flour. I believe irrigating is the way after all for fine crops. You say it must cost something to irrigate. So it does, but not as much as to clear up a farm in your section.

But I must quit as I will tire your patience. You will please write us and let us know how you and all the folks are. Please accept this from your friend, — C. Van Piper

[In a different hand]

Boulder Station
October 27, 1873

Dear Friends, Van Norstrands,

Here we are this beautiful Sabbath morning literally among the mountains. I wish I could describe to you the beauty of this mountain scenery—peak upon peak, glade upon glade, more rough and rugged now, more smooth and undulating as far as the eye can reach north and south, and even east of us is somewhat sharp points, but not so high. So we are almost surrounded by mountains.

In coming from Central City (where the Teller’s live) to here, we, in the first place come down out of the mountains following a canion down some 20 miles to Golden, just out on the plains. Then changed cars and come north about 28 miles, following the base of the mountains all the way but keeping on the plains. Such splendid views as we had some of the way. Got here just dark. Was here a week before out household goods come. The former agent moved out the next morning and left the coast clear but so dirty. The new only been built three months. Well, we got dirt out as soon as we could. Van had to do the most and he bought out a chap who had kept bachelor’s hall and we went to eating ourselves. Got along very well but it was an experience quite new to me. Well, we are comfortably settled now. Got such a nice little stove for 35 dollars, kettles, and everything with it. We burn a sort of soft coal. Makes a splendid fire. Got our carpets down and my melodian here and bought some fowls. We can keep as many as we like. Bought 7 old hens and 8 chickens half grown. Have the whitest bread here. 1.75 for sack of flour, potatoes 1.20 per bushel, butter 35 to 40 cents, sugar about the same. Their tea about the same though we have not bought any. Had some eggs 40 cents a dozen.

I am going to go into the poultry business. Bought a good chance. Had warm pleasant weather all the time. A little snow now but won’t lay long. We are half mile from the city proper of Boulder but they are building down this way very fast. 25 brick houses going up now. It is quite lonely for us here—too far to go to church for mother and me at least. Van goes. Heard the bells ringing this morning very lively. Sorry I could not go. The town is right in plain sight but farther off than it looks. I have not been up town yet. Don’t know how it looks nearby.

Well, I must get dinner. Please write us, will you. Ever your friend, —S. A. Van Piper

Van will write himself. I am getting better.