The reference in the foregoing letter to Esmeralda has to do
with mining plans. He was beginning to be mildly
interested, and, with his brother Orion, had acquired “feet”
in an Esmeralda camp, probably at a very small price--so
small as to hold out no exciting prospect of riches. In his
next letter he gives us the size of this claim, which he has
visited. His interest, however, still appears to be chiefly
in his timber claim on Lake Bigler (Tahoe), though we are
never to hear of it again after this letter.
To Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:
CARSON CITY, Oct. 25, 1861.
MY DEAR SISTER,--I have just finished reading your letter and Ma's of
Sept. 8th. How in the world could they have been so long coming? You ask
me if I have for gotten my promise to lay a claim for Mr. Moffett. By
no means. I have already laid a timber claim on the borders of a lake
(Bigler) which throws Como in the shade--and if we succeed in getting
one Mr. Jones, to move his saw-mill up there, Mr. Moffett can just
consider that claim better than bank stock. Jones says he will move his
mill up next spring. In that claim I took up about two miles in length
by one in width--and the names in it are as follows: “Sam. L Clemens,
Wm. A. Moffett, Thos. Nye” and three others. It is situated on “Sam
Clemens Bay”--so named by Capt. Nye--and it goes by that name among
the inhabitants of that region. I had better stop about “the Lake,”
though,--for whenever I think of it I want to go there and die, the
place is so beautiful. I'll build a country seat there one of these days
that will make the Devil's mouth water if he ever visits the earth.
Jim Lampton will never know whether I laid a claim there for him or not
until he comes here himself. We have now got about 1,650 feet of mining
ground--and if it proves good, Mr. Moffett's name will go in--if not,
I can get “feet” for him in the Spring which will be good. You see,
Pamela, the trouble does not consist in getting mining ground--for that
is plenty enough--but the money to work it with after you get it is the
mischief. When I was in Esmeralda, a young fellow gave me fifty feet in
the “Black Warrior”--an unprospected claim. The other day he wrote me
that he had gone down eight feet on the ledge, and found it eight feet
thick--and pretty good rock, too. He said he could take out rock now if
there were a mill to crush it--but the mills are all engaged (there are
only four of them) so, if I were willing, he would suspend work until
Spring. I wrote him to let it alone at present--because, you see, in the
Spring I can go down myself and help him look after it. There will
then be twenty mills there. Orion and I have confidence enough in this
country to think that if the war will let us alone we can make Mr.
Moffett rich without its ever costing him a cent of money or particle
of trouble. We shall lay plenty of claims for him, but if they never
pay him anything, they will never cost him anything, Orion and I are not
financiers. Therefore, you must persuade Uncle Jim to come out here and
help us in that line. I have written to him twice to come. I wrote him
today. In both letters I told him not to let you or Ma know that we
dealt in such romantic nonsense as “brilliant prospects,” because I
always did hate for anyone to know what my plans or hopes or prospects
were--for, if I kept people in ignorance in these matters, no one could
be disappointed but myself, if they were not realized. You know I never
told you that I went on the river under a promise to pay Bixby $500,
until I had paid the money and cleared my skirts of the possibility
of having my judgment criticised. I would not say anything about our
prospects now, if we were nearer home. But I suppose at this distance
you are more anxious than you would be if you saw us every month-and
therefore it is hardly fair to keep you in the dark. However, keep these
matters to yourselves, and then if we fail, we'll keep the laugh in the
family.
What we want now is something that will commence paying immediately. We
have got a chance to get into a claim where they say a tunnel has been
run 150 feet, and the ledge struck. I got a horse yesterday, and went
out with the Attorney-General and the claim-owner--and we tried to go to
the claim by a new route, and got lost in the mountains--sunset overtook
us before we found the claim--my horse got too lame to carry me, and I
got down and drove him ahead of me till within four miles of town--then
we sent Rice on ahead. Bunker, (whose horse was in good condition,)
undertook, to lead mine, and I followed after him. Darkness shut him out
from my view in less than a minute, and within the next minute I lost
the road and got to wandering in the sage brush. I would find the road
occasionally and then lose it again in a minute or so. I got to Carson
about nine o'clock, at night, but not by the road I traveled when I left
it. The General says my horse did very well for awhile, but soon refused
to lead. Then he dismounted, and had a jolly time driving both horses
ahead of him and chasing them here and there through the sage brush (it
does my soul good when I think of it) until he got to town, when both
animals deserted him, and he cursed them handsomely and came home alone.
Of course the horses went to their stables.
Tell Sammy I will lay a claim for him, and he must come out and attend
to it. He must get rid of that propensity for tumbling down, though,
for when we get fairly started here, I don't think we shall have time to
pick up those who fall.....
That is Stoughter's house, I expect, that Cousin Jim has moved into.
This is just the country for Cousin Jim to live in. I don't believe it
would take him six months to make $100,000 here, if he had 3,000 dollars
to commence with. I suppose he can't leave his family though.
Tell Mrs. Benson I never intend to be a lawyer. I have been a slave
several times in my life, but I'll never be one again. I always intend
to be so situated (unless I marry,) that I can “pull up stakes” and
clear out whenever I feel like it.
We are very thankful to you, Pamela, for the papers you send. We have
received half a dozen or more, and, next to letters, they are the most
welcome visitors we have.
Write oftener, Pamela.
Yr. Brother
SAM.
The “Cousin Jim” mentioned in this letter is the original of the
character of Colonel Sellers. Whatever Mark Twain's later opinion of
Cousin Jim Lampton's financial genius may have been, he seems to have
respected it at this time.
More than three months pass until we have another letter, and in that
time the mining fever had become well seated. Mark Twain himself was
full of the Sellers optimism, and it was bound to overflow, fortify as
he would against it.
He met with little enough encouragement. With three companions, in
midwinter, he made a mining excursion to the much exploited Humboldt
region, returning empty-handed after a month or two of hard experience.
This is the trip picturesquely described in Chapters XXVII to XXXIII of
Roughing It.--[It is set down historically in Mark Twain 'A Biography.'
Harper & brothers.]--He, mentions the Humboldt in his next letter, but
does not confess his failure.
To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:
CARSON CITY, Feb. 8, 1862.
MY DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--By George Pamela, I begin to fear that
I have invoked a Spirit of some kind or other which I will find
some difficulty in laying. I wasn't much terrified by your growing
inclinations, but when you begin to call presentiments to your aid, I
confess that I “weaken.” Mr. Moffett is right, as I said before--and I
am not much afraid of his going wrong. Men are easily dealt with--but
when you get the women started, you are in for it, you know. But I
have decided on two things, viz: Any of you, or all of you, may live
in California, for that is the Garden of Eden reproduced--but you shall
never live in Nevada; and secondly, none of you, save Mr. Moffett, shall
ever cross the Plains. If you were only going to Pike's Peak, a little
matter of 700 miles from St. Jo, you might take the coach, and I
wouldn't say a word. But I consider it over 2,000 miles from St. Jo to
Carson, and the first 6 or 800 miles is mere Fourth of July, compared to
the balance of the route. But Lord bless you, a man enjoys every foot
of it. If you ever come here or to California, it must be by sea. Mr.
Moffett must come by overland coach, though, by all means. He would
consider it the jolliest little trip he ever took in his life. Either
June, July, or August are the proper months to make the journey in. He
could not suffer from heat, and three or four heavy army blankets would
make the cold nights comfortable. If the coach were full of passengers,
two good blankets would probably be sufficient. If he comes, and brings
plenty of money, and fails to invest it to his entire satisfaction; I
will prophesy no more.
But I will tell you a few things which you wouldn't have found out if I
hadn't got myself into this scrape. I expect to return to St. Louis in
July--per steamer. I don't say that I will return then, or that I
shall be able to do it--but I expect to--you bet. I came down here
from Humboldt, in order to look after our Esmeralda interests, and my
sore-backed horse and the bad roads have prevented me from making the
journey. Yesterday one of my old Esmeralda friends, Bob Howland, arrived
here, and I have had a talk with him. He owns with me in the “Horatio
and Derby” ledge. He says our tunnel is in 52 feet, and a small stream
of water has been struck, which bids fair to become a “big thing” by the
time the ledge is reached--sufficient to supply a mill. Now, if you knew
anything of the value of water, here; you would perceive, at a glance
that if the water should amount to 50 or 100 inches, we wouldn't care
whether school kept or not. If the ledge should prove to be worthless,
we'd sell the water for money enough to give us quite a lift. But you
see, the ledge will not prove to be worthless. We have located, near by,
a fine site for a mill; and when we strike the ledge, you know, we'll
have a mill-site, water power, and pay-rock, all handy. Then we shan't
care whether we have capital or not. Mill-folks will build us a mill,
and wait for their pay. If nothing goes wrong, we'll strike the ledge in
June--and if we do, I'll be home in July, you know.
Pamela, don't you know that undemonstrated human calculations won't do
to bet on? Don't you know that I have only talked, as yet, but proved
nothing? Don't you know that I have expended money in this country but
have made none myself? Don't you know that I have never held in my hands
a gold or silver bar that belonged to me? Don't you know that it's all
talk and no cider so far? Don't you know that people who always feel
jolly, no matter where they are or what happens to them--who have
the organ of hope preposterously developed--who are endowed with an
uncongealable sanguine temperament--who never feel concerned about the
price of corn--and who cannot, by any possibility, discover any but the
bright side of a picture--are very apt to go to extremes, and exaggerate
with 40-horse microscopic power? Of course I never tried to raise these
suspicions in your mind, but then your knowledge of the fact that some
people's poor frail human nature is a sort of crazy institution anyhow,
ought to have suggested them to you. Now, if I hadn't thoughtlessly got
you into the notion of coming out here, and thereby got myself into a
scrape, I wouldn't have given you that highly-colored paragraph about
the mill, etc., because, you know, if that pretty little picture should
fail, and wash out, and go the Devil generally, it wouldn't cost me the
loss of an hour's sleep, but you fellows would be so much distressed on
my account as I could possibly be if “circumstances beyond my control”
were to prevent my being present at my own funeral. But--but--
“In the bright lexicon of youth,
There's no such word as Fail--”
and I'll prove it!
And look here. I came near forgetting it. Don't you say a word to me
about “trains” across the plains. Because I am down on that arrangement.
That sort of thing is “played out,” you know. The Overland Coach or the
Mail Steamer is the thing.
You want to know something about the route between California and Nevada
Territory? Suppose you take my word for it, that it is exceedingly
jolly. Or take, for a winter view, J. Ross Brown's picture, in Harper's
Monthly, of pack mules tumbling fifteen hundred feet down the side of a
mountain. Why bless you, there's scenery on that route. You can stand on
some of those noble peaks and see Jerusalem and the Holy Land. And you
can start a boulder, and send it tearing up the earth and crashing over
trees-down-down-down-to the very devil, Madam. And you would probably
stand up there and look, and stare and wonder at the magnificence spread
out before you till you starved to death, if let alone. But you should
take someone along to keep you moving.
Since you want to know, I will inform you that an eight-stamp water
mill, put up and ready for business would cost about $10,000 to $12,000.
Then, the water to run it with would cost from $1,000 to $30,000--and
even more, according to the location. What I mean by that, is, that
water powers in THIS vicinity, are immensely valuable. So, also, in
Esmeralda. But Humboldt is a new country, and things don't cost so much
there yet. I saw a good water power sold there for $750.00. But here is
the way the thing is managed. A man with a good water power on Carson
river will lean his axe up against a tree (provided you find him
chopping cord-wood at $4 a day,) and taking his chalk pipe out of his
mouth to afford him an opportunity to answer your questions, will look
you coolly in the face and tell you his little property is worth forty
or fifty thousand dollars! But you can easily fix him. You tell him that
you'll build a quartz mill on his property, and make him a fourth or a
third, or half owner in said mill in consideration of the privilege of
using said property--and that will bring him to his milk in a jiffy. So
he spits on his hands, and goes in again with his axe, until the mill is
finished, when lo! out pops the quondam wood-chopper, arrayed in purple
and fine linen, and prepared to deal in bank-stock, or bet on the races,
or take government loans, with an air, as to the amount, of the most
don't care a-d---dest unconcern that you can conceive of. By George,
if I just had a thousand dollars--I'd be all right! Now there's the
“Horatio,” for instance. There are five or six shareholders in it, and I
know I could buy half of their interests at, say $20 per foot, now that
flour is worth $50 per barrel and they are pressed for money. But I am
hard up myself, and can't buy--and in June they'll strike the ledge and
then “good-bye canary.” I can't get it for love or money. Twenty dollars
a foot! Think of it. For ground that is proven to be rich. Twenty
dollars, Madam--and we wouldn't part with a foot of our 75 for five
times the sum. So it will be in Humboldt next summer. The boys will get
pushed and sell ground for a song that is worth a fortune. But I am at
the helm, now. I have convinced Orion that he hasn't business talent
enough to carry on a peanut stand, and he has solemnly promised me that
he will meddle no more with mining, or other matters not connected with
the Secretary's office. So, you see, if mines are to be bought or sold,
or tunnels run, or shafts sunk, parties have to come to me--and me only.
I'm the “firm,” you know.
“How long does it take one of those infernal trains to go through?”
Well, anywhere between three and five months.
Tell Margaret that if you ever come to live in California, that you
can promise her a home for a hundred years, and a bully one--but she
wouldn't like the country. Some people are malicious enough to think
that if the devil were set at liberty and told to confine himself
to Nevada Territory, that he would come here--and look sadly around,
awhile, and then get homesick and go back to hell again. But I hardly
believe it, you know. I am saying, mind you, that Margaret wouldn't
like the country, perhaps--nor the devil either, for that matter, or any
other man but I like it. When it rains here, it never lets up till it
has done all the raining it has got to do--and after that, there's a dry
spell, you bet. Why, I have had my whiskers and moustaches so full of
alkali dust that you'd have thought I worked in a starch factory and
boarded in a flour barrel.
Since we have been here there has not been a fire--although the houses
are built of wood. They “holler” fire sometimes, though, but I am always
too late to see the smoke before the fire is out, if they ever have any.
Now they raised a yell here in front of the office a moment ago. I put
away my papers, and locked up everything of value, and changed my boots,
and pulled off my coat, and went and got a bucket of water, and came
back to see what the matter was, remarking to myself, “I guess I'll be
on hand this time, any way.” But I met a friend on the pavement, and he
said, “Where you been? Fire's out half an hour ago.”
Ma says Axtele was above “suspition”--but I have searched through
Webster's Unabridged, and can't find the word. However, it's of no
consequence--I hope he got down safely. I knew Axtele and his wife as
well as I know Dan Haines. Mrs. A. once tried to embarrass me in the
presence of company by asking me to name her baby, when she was well
aware that I didn't know the sex of that Phenomenon. But I told her to
call it Frances, and spell it to suit herself. That was about nine years
ago, and Axtele had no property, and could hardly support his family by
his earnings. He was a pious cuss, though. Member of Margaret Sexton's
Church.
And Ma says “it looks like a man can't hold public office and be
honest.” Why, certainly not, Madam. A man can't hold public office and
be honest. Lord bless you, it is a common practice with Orion to go
about town stealing little things that happen to be lying around loose.
And I don't remember having heard him speak the truth since we have been
in Nevada. He even tries to prevail upon me to do these things, Ma, but
I wasn't brought up in that way, you know. You showed the public what
you could do in that line when you raised me, Madam. But then you ought
to have raised me first, so that Orion could have had the benefit of
my example. Do you know that he stole all the stamps out of an 8 stamp
quartz mill one night, and brought them home under his over-coat and hid
them in the back room?
Yrs. etc.,
SAM
A little later he had headed for the Esmeralda Hills. Some time in
February he was established there in a camp with a young man by the
name of Horatio Phillips (Raish). Later he camped with Bob Howland,
who, as City Marshal of Aurora, became known as the most fearless
man in the Territory, and, still later, with Calvin H. Higbie (Cal),
to whom 'Roughing It' would one day be dedicated. His own funds
were exhausted by this time, and Orion, with his rather slender
salary, became the financial partner of the firm.
It was a comfortless life there in the Esmeralda camp. Snow covered
everything. There was nothing to do, and apparently nothing to
report; for there are no letters until April. Then the first one is
dated Carson City, where he seems to be making a brief sojourn. It
is a rather heavy attempt to be light-hearted; its playfulness
suggests that of a dancing bear.
To Mrs. Jane Clemens, in St. Louis:
CARSON CITY, April 2, 1862.
MY DEAR MOTHER,--Yours of March 2nd has just been received. I see I am
in for it again--with Annie. But she ought to know that I was always
stupid. She used to try to teach me lessons from the Bible, but I never
could understand them. Doesn't she remember telling me the story of
Moses, one Sunday, last Spring, and how hard she tried to explain it and
simplify it so that I could understand it--but I couldn't? And how she
said it was strange that while her ma and her grandma and her uncle
Orion could understand anything in the world, I was so dull that I
couldn't understand the “ea-siest thing?” And doesn't she remember that
finally a light broke in upon me and I said it was all right--that I
knew old Moses himself--and that he kept a clothing store in Market
Street? And then she went to her ma and said she didn't know what would
become of her uncle Sam he was too dull to learn anything--ever! And I'm
just as dull yet. Now I have no doubt her letter was spelled right, and
was correct in all particulars--but then I had to read it according to
my lights; and they being inferior, she ought to overlook the mistakes
I make specially, as it is not my fault that I wasn't born with good
sense. I am sure she will detect an encouraging ray of intelligence in
that last argument.....
I am waiting here, trying to rent a better office for Orion. I have got
the refusal after next week of a room on first floor of a fire-proof
brick-rent, eighteen hundred dollars a year. Don't know yet whether we
can get it or not. If it is not rented before the week is up, we can.
I was sorry to hear that Dick was killed. I gave him his first lesson in
the musket drill. We had half a dozen muskets in our office when it was
over Isbell's Music Rooms.
I hope I am wearing the last white shirt that will embellish my person
for many a day--for I do hope that I shall be out of Carson long before
this reaches you.
Love to all.
Very Respectfully
SAM.
The “Annie” in this letter was his sister Pamela's little daughter;
long years after, she would be the wife of Charles L. Webster, Mark
Twain's publishing partner. “Dick” the reader may remember as Dick
Hingham, of the Keokuk printing-office; he was killed in charging
the works at Fort Donelson.
Clemens was back in Esmeralda when the next letter was written, and
we begin now to get pictures of that cheerless mining-camp, and to
know something of the alternate hopes and discouragements of the
hunt for gold--the miner one day soaring on wings of hope, on the
next becoming excited, irritable, profane. The names of new mines
appear constantly and vanish almost at a touch, suggesting the
fairy-like evanescence of their riches.
But a few of the letters here will best speak for themselves; not
all of them are needed. It is perhaps unnecessary to say that there
is no intentional humor in these documents.
To Orion Clemens, in Carson City:
ESMERALDA, 13th April, 1862.
MY DEAR BROTHER,--Wasson got here night before last “from the wars.”
Tell Lockhart he is not wounded and not killed--is altogether unhurt.
He says the whites left their stone fort before he and Lieut. Noble
got there. A large amount of provisions and ammunition, which they left
behind them, fell into the hands of the Indians. They had a pitched
battle with the savages some fifty miles from the fort, in which Scott
(sheriff) and another man was killed. This was the day before the
soldiers came up with them. I mean Noble's men, and those under
Cols. Evans and Mayfield, from Los Angeles. Evans assumed the chief
command--and next morning the forces were divided into three parties,
and marched against the enemy. Col. Mayfield was killed, and Sergeant
Gillespie, also Noble's colonel was wounded. The California troops went
back home, and Noble remained, to help drive the stock over here. And,
as Cousin Sally Dillard says, this is all I know about the fight.
Work not yet begun on the H. and Derby--haven't seen it yet. It is still
in the snow. Shall begin on it within 3 or 4 weeks--strike the ledge in
July. Guess it is good--worth from $30 to $50 a foot in California.
Why didn't you send the “Live Yankee” deed-the very one I wanted? Have
made no inquiries about it, much. Don't intend to until I get the deed.
Send it along--by mail-- d---n the Express-- have to pay three times for
all express matter; once in Carson and twice here. I don't expect to
take the saddle-bags out of the express office. I paid twenty-five cts.
for the Express deeds.
Man named Gebhart shot here yesterday while trying to defend a claim on
Last Chance Hill. Expect he will die.
These mills here are not worth a d---n-except Clayton's--and it is not
in full working trim yet.
Send me $40 or $50--by mail--immediately.
The Red Bird is probably good--can't work on the tunnel on account of
snow. The “Pugh” I have thrown away--shan't re-locate it. It is nothing
but bed-rock croppings--too much work to find the ledge, if there is
one. Shan't record the “Farnum” until I know more about it--perhaps not
at all.
“Governor” under the snow.
“Douglas” and “Red Bird” are both recorded.
I have had opportunities to get into several ledges, but refused all but
three--expect to back out of two of them.
Stir yourself as much as possible, and lay up $100 or $15,000, subject
to my call. I go to work to-morrow, with pick and shovel. Something's
got to come, by G--, before I let go, here.
Col. Youngs says you must rent Kinkead's room by all means--Government
would rather pay $150 a month for your office than $75 for Gen. North's.
Says you are playing your hand very badly, for either the Government's
good opinion or anybody's else, in keeping your office in a shanty. Says
put Gov. Nye in your place and he would have a stylish office, and no
objections would ever be made, either. When old Col. Youngs talks this
way, I think it time to get a fine office. I wish you would take that
office, and fit it up handsomely, so that I can omit telling people
that by this time you are handsomely located, when I know it is no such
thing.
I am living with “Ratio Phillips.” Send him one of those black
portfolios--by the stage, and put a couple of pen-holders and a dozen
steel pens in it.
If you should have occasion to dispose of the long desk before I return,
don't forget to break open the middle drawer and take out my things.
Envelop my black cloth coat in a newspaper and hang it in the back room.
Don't buy anything while I am here--but save up some money for me.
Don't send any money home. I shall have your next quarter's salary spent
before you get it, I think. I mean to make or break here within the next
two or three months.
Yrs.
SAM
The “wars” mentioned in the opening paragraph of this letter
were incident to the trouble concerning the boundary line
between California and Nevada. The trouble continued for
some time, with occasional bloodshed. The next letter is an
exultant one. There were few enough of this sort. We
cannot pretend to keep track of the multiplicity of mines
and shares which lure the gold-hunters, pecking away at the
flinty ledges, usually in the snow. It has been necessary
to abbreviate this letter, for much of it has lost all
importance with the years, and is merely confusing. Hope is
still high in the writer's heart, and confidence in his
associates still unshaken. Later he was to lose faith in
“Raish,” whether with justice or not we cannot know now.
To Orion Clowns, in Carson City:
ESMERALDA, May 11, 1862.
MY DEAR BRO.,--TO use a French expression I have “got my d--d satisfy”
at last. Two years' time will make us capitalists, in spite of anything.
Therefore, we need fret and fume, and worry and doubt no more, but
just lie still and put up with privations for six months. Perhaps three
months will “let us out.” Then, if Government refuses to pay the rent on
your new office we can do it ourselves. We have got to wait six weeks,
anyhow, for a dividend, maybe longer--but that it will come there is
no shadow of a doubt, I have got the thing sifted down to a dead moral
certainty. I own one-eighth of the new “Monitor Ledge, Clemens Company,”
and money can't buy a foot of it; because I know it to contain our
fortune. The ledge is six feet wide, and one needs no glass to see gold
and silver in it. Phillips and I own one half of a segregated claim in
the “Flyaway” discovery, and good interests in two extensions on it. We
put men to work on our part of the discovery yesterday, and last night
they brought us some fine specimens. Rock taken from ten feet below the
surface on the other part of the discovery, has yielded $150.00 to the
ton in the mill and we are at work 300 feet from their shaft.
May 12--Yours by the mail received last night. “Eighteen hundred feet in
the C. T. Rice's Company!” Well, I am glad you did not accept of the 200
feet. Tell Rice to give it to some poor man.
But hereafter, when anybody holds up a glittering prospect before you,
just argue in this wise, viz: That, if all spare change be devoted to
working the “Monitor” and “Flyaway,” 12 months, or 24 at furthest, will
find all our earthly wishes satisfied, so far as money is concerned--and
the more “feet” we have, the more anxiety we must bear--therefore, why
not say “No--d---n your 'prospects,' I wait on a sure thing--and a man
is less than a man, if he can't wait 2 years for a fortune?” When
you and I came out here, we did not expect '63 or '64 to find us rich
men--and if that proposition had been made, we would have accepted it
gladly. Now, it is made.
Well, I am willing, now, that “Neary's tunnel,” or anybody else's tunnel
shall succeed. Some of them may beat us a few months, but we shall be
on hand in the fullness of time, as sure as fate. I would hate to swap
chances with any member of the “tribe”--in fact, I am so lost to all
sense and reason as to be capable of refusing to trade “Flyaway” (with
but 200 feet in the Company of four,) foot for foot for that splendid
“Lady Washington,” with its lists of capitalist proprietors, and its
35,000 feet of Priceless ground.
I wouldn't mind being in some of those Clear Creek claims, if I lived
in Carson and we could spare the money. But I have struck my tent in
Esmeralda, and I care for no mines but those which I can superintend
myself. I am a citizen here now, and I am satisfied--although R. and I
are strapped and we haven't three days' rations in the house.
Raish is looking anxiously for money and so am I. Send me whatever you
can spare conveniently--I want it to work the Flyaway with. My fourth
of that claim only cost me $50, (which isn't paid yet, though,) and I
suppose I could sell it here in town for ten times that amount today,
but I shall probably hold onto it till the cows come home. I shall work
the “Monitor” and the other claims with my own hands. I prospected of
a pound of “M,” yesterday, and Raish reduced it with the blow-pipe, and
got about ten or twelve cents in gold and silver, besides the other half
of it which we spilt on the floor and didn't get. The specimen came from
the croppings, but was a choice one, and showed much free gold to the
naked eye.
Well, I like the corner up-stairs office amazingly--provided, it has one
fine, large front room superbly carpeted, for the safe and a $150 desk,
or such a matter--one handsome room amidships, less handsomely gotten
up, perhaps, for records and consultations, and one good-sized bedroom
and adjoining it a kitchen, neither of which latter can be entered by
anybody but yourself--and finally, when one of the ledges begins to pay,
the whole to be kept in parlor order by two likely contrabands at big
wages, the same to be free of expense to the Government. You want the
entire second story--no less room than you would have had in Harris and
Co's. Make them fix for you before the 1st of July-for maybe you might
want to “come out strong” on the 4th, you know.
No, the Post Office is all right and kept by a gentleman but W. F.
Express isn't. They charge 25 cts to express a letter from here, but I
believe they have quit charging twice for letters that arrive prepaid.
The “Flyaway” specimen I sent you, (taken by myself from DeKay's shaft,
300 feet from where we are going to sink) cannot be called “choice,”
exactly--say something above medium, to be on the safe side. But I have
seen exceedingly choice chunks from that shaft. My intention at first in
sending the Antelope specimen was that you might see that it resembles
the Monitor--but, come to think, a man can tell absolutely nothing about
that without seeing both ledges themselves. I tried to break a handsome
chunk from a huge piece of my darling Monitor which we brought from
the croppings yesterday, but it all splintered up, and I send you the
scraps. I call that “choice”--any d---d fool would. Don't ask if it has
been assayed, for it hasn't. It don't need it. It is amply able to
speak for itself. It is six feet wide on top, and traversed through and
through with veins whose color proclaims their worth. What the devil
does a man want with any more feet when he owns in the Flyaway and the
invincible bomb-proof Monitor?
If I had anything more to say I have forgotten what it was, unless,
perhaps, that I want a sum of money--anywhere from $20 to $150, as soon
as possible.
Raish sends regards. He or I, one will drop a line to the “Age”
occasionally. I suppose you saw my letters in the “Enterprise.”
Yr. BRO,
SAM
P. S. I suppose Pamela never will regain her health, but she could
improve it by coming to California--provided the trip didn't kill her.
You see Bixby is on the flag-ship. He always was the best pilot on the
Mississippi, and deserves his “posish.” They have done a reckless thing,
though, in putting Sam Bowen on the “Swan”--for if a bomb-shell happens
to come his way, he will infallibly jump overboard.
Send me another package of those envelopes, per Bagley's coat pocket.
We see how anxious he was for his brother to make a good official
showing. If a niggardly Government refused to provide decent
quarters--no matter; the miners, with gold pouring in, would
themselves pay for a suite “superbly carpeted,” and all kept in
order by “two likely contrabands”--that is to say, negroes. Samuel
Clemens in those days believed in expansion and impressive
surroundings. His brother, though also mining mad, was rather
inclined to be penny wise in the matter of office luxury--not a bad
idea, as it turned out.
Orion, by the way, was acquiring “feet” on his own account, and in
one instance, at least, seems to have won his brother's
commendation.
The 'Enterprise' letters mentioned we shall presently hear of again.
To Orion Clemens, in Carson City:
ESMERALDA, Sunday, May--, 1862.
MY DEAR BROTHER,--Well, if you haven't “struck it rich--” that is, if
the piece of rock you sent me came from a bona fide ledge--and it looks
as if it did. If that is a ledge, and you own 200 feet in it, why, it's
a big thing--and I have nothing more to say. If you have actually made
something by helping to pay somebody's prospecting expenses it is a
wonder of the first magnitude, and deserves to rank as such.
If that rock came from a well-defined ledge, that particular vein must
be at least an inch wide, judging from this specimen, which is fully
that thick.
When I came in the other evening, hungry and tired and ill-natured, and
threw down my pick and shovel, Raish gave me your specimen--said Bagley
brought it, and asked me if it were cinnabar. I examined it by the
waning daylight, and took the specks of fine gold for sulphurets--wrote
you I did not think much of it--and posted the letter immediately.
But as soon as I looked at it in the broad light of day, I saw my
mistake. During the week, we have made three horns, got a blow-pipe, &c,
and yesterday, all prepared, we prospected the “Mountain House.” I broke
the specimen in two, and found it full of fine gold inside. Then we
washed out one-fourth of it, and got a noble prospect. This we reduced
with the blow-pipe, and got about two cents (herewith enclosed) in pure
gold.
As the fragment prospected weighed rather less than an ounce, this would
give about $500 to the ton. We were eminently well satisfied. Therefore,
hold on to the “Mountain House,” for it is a “big thing.” Touch it
lightly, as far as money is concerned, though, for it is well to reserve
the code of justice in the matter of quartz ledges--that is, consider
them all (and their owners) guilty (of “shenanigan”) until they are
proved innocent.
P. S.--Monday--Ratio and I have bought one-half of a segregated claim
in the original “Flyaway,” for $100--$50 down. We haven't a cent in the
house. We two will work the ledge, and have full control, and pay all
expenses. If you can spare $100 conveniently, let me have it--or $50,
anyhow, considering that I own one fourth of this, it is of course more
valuable than one 1/7 of the “Mountain House,” although not so rich....
There is too much of a sameness in the letters of this period to use
all of them. There are always new claims, and work done, apparently
without system or continuance, hoping to uncover sudden boundless
affluence.
In the next letter and the one following it we get a hint of an
episode, or rather of two incidents which he combined into an
episode in Roughing It. The story as told in that book is an
account of what might have happened, rather than history. There was
never really any money in the “blind lead” of the Wide West claim,
except that which was sunk in it by unfortunate investors. Only
extracts from these letters are given. The other portions are
irrelevant and of slight value.
Extract from a letter to Orion Clemens, in Carson City:
1862.
Two or three of the old “Salina” company entered our hole on the Monitor
yesterday morning, before our men got there, and took possession, armed
with revolvers. And according to the d---d laws of this forever d---d
country, nothing but the District Court (and there ain't any) can touch
the matter, unless it assumes the shape of an infernal humbug which they
call “forcible entry and detainer,” and in order to bring that about,
you must compel the jumpers to use personal violence toward you! We
went up and demanded possession, and they refused. Said they were in the
hole, armed and meant to die for it, if necessary.
I got in with them, and again demanded possession. They said I might
stay in it as long as I pleased, and work but they would do the same. I
asked one of our company to take my place in the hole, while I went to
consult a lawyer. He did so. The lawyer said it was no go. They must
offer some “force.”
Our boys will try to be there first in the morning--in which case they
may get possession and keep it. Now you understand the shooting scrape
in which Gebhart was killed the other day. The Clemens Company--all of
us--hate to resort to arms in this matter, and it will not be done
until it becomes a forced hand--but I think that will be the end of it,
never-the-less.
The mine relocated in this letter was not the “Wide West,” but it
furnished the proper incident. The only mention of the “Wide West”
is found in a letter written in July.