On July 3, 1858, Bernard Hurst was married in Burton, Wisconsin to Harriet Burrows. The following is her revised account of Bernard’s involvement in the gold rush.

At the close of the Mexican War in 1849, our government took possession of a new territory called California. It was during this time period that gold was discovered in the West.

When Lincoln, at the opening of the Civil war, called for 75,000 raw recruits, with no money in the treasury to feed and equip them, with only a few officers to drill them, the situation was considered a desperate one. However it was inconsiderable when compared with the suffering causes in consequence of the mad rush to the gold fields of California years earlier. My three brothers were among that vast throng, and never was I to see them again. Many were the friends that went and but few of them ever returned, many never even living long enough to see the land of their dreams, but dying on the long and toilsome journey there. To add to the already long list of fatalities, an epidemic of Asiatic cholera broke out in their ranks and tens of thousands were left along the roadside.

Among that travel worn throng was a young German, Bernard Hurst, who was destined to be my future husband. It was from his lips that much of the facts in this paper were gleaned. He went under the employment of a man from Lancaster, Grant County, by the name of Charles Ashley, a pioneer and businessman in that section.

While most of the conveyances that made up that long caravan consisted of prairie schooners or wagons covered with common sheeting or canvas and drawn by either cows or oxen, Mr. Ashley’s equipment was of a better sort. His consisted of horses, four hitched to a wagon, and the wagons loaded with provisions, wearing material, and supplies of various kinds sufficient for a year, or what they considered enough to cover all emergencies and detentions to so-long a journey. Let us follow a little way as they cross the Mississippi River at Spects Ferry near Potosi, on April 13, 1852, on Bernards 27th birthday, and start across the almost trackless plains leading to their far off destination.

The roads of Iowa at that time were no more than trails leading from one little settlement to another, often leading through low, marshy lands. The teams would often mire down and the men would be obliged to carry the provisions across by hand, reloading only after solid ground had again been reached. Often after a long, hard, toilsome day, night would find them making only a miles progress. As the season advanced the roads became drier, they made greater progress, impeded only by creeks and rivers which lay across their path.

When reaching the North Platte, floods had swelled it, and the shallow banks were inundated for three miles. They crossed these swollen streams, which retarded but did not block their progress. When they came to a river so deep as to make it necessary to swim the horses, they strapped the woman and children on horseback to get across. They were encouraged by the long lines of travelers that swept on before and behind them. They lost one wagon in the North Platte River, it sinking so deep in the quicksand that it was impossible to recover. Upon leaving Omaha it became necessary to divide into groups for the purpose of guarding themselves against the marauding Indians who were ever on the alert to secure what booty they might capture. Many a traveler awoke in the morning to find his horses and cattle stolen while the guard had been napping. The others in his train would care for men who met with this misfortune. Also, when the provisions in one train would run low, they would double up on some other supplies, leaving the wagon behind for kindling wood to those who would follow.

The Cholera Plague did not escape the little band, and wrought its fearful havoc on many in the train. The teams were becoming fagged now by the long and wary road, and still there was the great American Desert stretching out ahead of them, the Rocky Mountains to be climbed, and the canyons of the Colorado to be crossed. The men in Ashley's train who had been peaceful up to this point, had became obsessed with the idea that they were not traveling as fast as they should. Mr. Ashley knew the endurance of his horses and was driving them accordingly. Many of the men however, thought pushing the horses harder would increase their progress. When Ashley objected to this idea, many men began formulating plans for a mutiny and thought about binding him and leaving him by the roadside. Bernard Hurst could not be persuaded, and helped avert the men's plans from being carried out.

On the 20th of August 1852, a weary, worn-out crew drove down the steep slope of the Sierra Nevada's and suddenly came upon a village of white tents. It was a mining camp, and meant to them the end of a long journey. They welcomed it as a haven of rest to their weary limbs. Was it all that it promised to be? Many were the fabulous tales that had been told of this glittering land; but alas; "all is not gold that glitters". Truly the gold was there, but also, there was no bread and no law. California was not yet a state and every man was a law unto himself. With the word gold, the worst desperado's all over the country had rushed for it, and with them came every form of greed, selfishness and crime that the human mind could conceive of. The poor honest fellows, who had endured the privations and suffering of weary months that they might reach their goal, found themselves the victims of this lawlessness and greed.

Many missed their fortunes in this land of gold, and found their graves instead. My own brothers reached the land of shining gold, only to miss their fortunes and find their graves after years of wanderings and misfortunes. Many sickened and died on the mountain from exposure with their bags of gold beside them, unable to go so far for bread. The few that returned were often broken in health and fortune. The price was too great. After five years of good and bad times, Bernard Hurst returned to his homeland by way of the Gulf of Mexico and up the Mississippi River.

He came back to the farm where his father and stepmother were living. At this time a young lady schoolteacher, Miss Harriet Burrows, was boarding with his folks and teaching the Dutch Ridge School. Soon after they had met, and a short court ship, they were married on July 3, 1858. They built their home on another part of the farm that was all forest, clearing the trees and brushes, where they lived many years. This area is now called Dutch Ridge. Ten children were born to them, six of whom grew to maturity. (See fact sheet). Soon after their marriage came the civil war. Slavery was becoming a national problem. There were bitter feelings between the North and South. One morning in April 1861, word came from Dubuque that Fort Moultrie had been fired upon and that President Lincoln had called for volunteers. Among those enlisted were friends and neighbors, Henry Zimmeran, Morgan and Henry Reed, John and Dan Wise, Tom Rogers, George Schaal, Cornelius Oley, Joe Bossert, George Stoll, Natz Winkler, Urius Reed, Oliver Shinoe and many others.

Soon after their marriage came the civil war. Slavery was becoming a national problem. There were bitter feelings between the North and South. One morning in April 1861, word came from Dubuque that Fort Moultrie had been fired upon and that President Lincoln had called for volunteers. Among those enlisted were friends and neighbors, Henry Zimmeran, Morgan and Henry Reed, John and Dan Wise, Tom Rogers, George Schaal, Cornelius Oley, Joe Bossert, George Stoll, Natz Winkler, Urias Reed, Oliver Shinoe and many others.

One October evening in 1864, while Bernard was milking cows a man drew up on horseback and pulling a paper from his pocket read it to Bernard, then rode away. The man was an U.S. Marshall, and the paper was a notice to appear at Prairie du Chien on October 29 for examination. This meant he had been drafted to replace other men who had already fallen in battle. From Prairie du Chien he would be sent to Camp Randall at Madison, where he would be drilled in the use of firearms before being sent to the battlefront. From Madison he was sent to Baltimore, and thence to the Army at Petersburg. He was placed in Company "C" Sixth Regiment, Third Brigade. God must have been good to him. General Grant had his headquarters at Appomatlox Court House and Bernard was one of those chosen from his regiment to stand guard at headquarters. Here he was comparatively safe from the enemy guns and spared the hardships of the soldier in the ranks. This was a task well suited to his talents and tastes, for he so loved order and cleanliness and I am sure no soldier was more immaculate than he, or had his firearms glistening so brightly or was more of a favorite with his army chief. Before being detailed on guard, however, he was in one skirmish at Hatchers run, where one of his number, and friend and neighbor, Notz Winkler, was left dead on the field, and George Schaal, another close friend who later became his son-in-law was badly wounded and taken to the hospital. Many, many others of their number were killed or wounded including his two brothers and a brother in law before Lee's surrender later that spring.

In his duty as guard he was obliged to stand like a statue for a period of two hours at a time, when he was relieved by others for a like period. The old clothes brush with which he kept himself clean and spotless is still in the family, a cherished heirloom and had it had eyes it might have witnessed the surrender of Lee's army as it marched between two columns of Grant’s Army to the sea and laid down it’s arms there.

What rejoicing in the homes when fathers, sons, and husbands returned. It was after the war and one of his fondest memories that Bernard met, and shook hands with the President of the United States, President Abraham Lincoln.

On March 10th, 1896, when Bernard Hurst was 71 years old, he married a second time to a young woman of 20 years, Miss Edith Leora Reed. To this couple was born three children. (See fact sheet). He lived to be 90 years old, and died on Sept 6, 1915, at his home near Burton Wisconsin, and is buried in the Burton cemetery.

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