John D. Kinney, a Cincinnati boy, and a first-rate fellow, too, who came out with judge Turner, was my comrade. We staid at the Lake four days I had plenty of fun, for John constantly reminded me of Sam Bowen when we were on our campaign in Missouri. But first and foremost, for Annies, Mollies, and Pamelas comfort, be it known that I have never been guilty of profane language since I have been in this Territory, and Kinney hardly ever swears. But sometimes human nature gets the better of him. On the second day we started to go by land to the lower camp, a distance of three miles, over the mountains, each carrying an axe. I dont think we got lost exactly, but we wandered four hours over the steepest, rockiest and most dangerous piece of country in the world. I couldnt keep from laughing at Kinneys distress, so I kept behind, so that he could not see me. After he would get over a dangerous place, with infinite labor and constant apprehension, he would stop, lean on his axe, and look around, then behind, then ahead, and then drop his head and ruminate awhile. Then he would draw a long sigh, and say: Well could any Billygoat have scaled that place without breaking his neck? And I would reply, No, I dont think he could. No you dont think he could (mimicking me,) Why dont you curse the infernal place? You know you want to. I do, and will curse the thieving country as long as I live. Then we would toil on in silence for awhile. Finally I told himWell, John, what if we dont find our way out of this today well know all about the country when we do get out. Oh stuff I know enough and too much about the d d villainous locality already. Finally, we reached the camp. But as we brought no provisions with us, the first subject that presented itself to us was, how to get back. John swore he wouldnt walk back, so we rolled a drift log apiece into the Lake, and set about making paddles, intending to straddle the logs and paddle ourselves back home sometime or other. But the Lake objected got stormy, and we had to give it up. So we set out for the only house on this side of the Lake three miles from there, down the shore. We found the way without any trouble, reached there before sundown, played three games of cribbage, borrowed a dug-out and pulled back six miles to the upper camp. As we had eaten nothing since sunrise, we did not waste time in cooking our supper or in eating it, either. After supper we got out our pipes built a rousing camp fire in the open air-established a faro bank (an institution of this country,) on our huge flat granite dining table, and bet white beans till one oclock, when John went to bed. We were up before the sun the next morning, went out on the Lake and caught a fine trout for breakfast. But unfortunately, I spoilt part of the breakfast. We had coffee and tea boiling on the fire, in coffee-pots and fearing they might not be strong enough, I added more ground coffee, and more tea, but you know mistakes will happen. I put the tea in the coffee-pot, and the coffee in the teapot and if you imagine that they were not villainous mixtures, just try the effect once.
And so Bella is to be married on the 1st of Oct. Well, I send her and her husband my very best wishes, and I may not be here but wherever I am on that night, well have a rousing camp-fire and a jollification in honor of the event.
In a day or two we shall probably go to the Lake and build another cabin and fence, and get everything into satisfactory trim before our trip to Esmeralda about the first of November.
What has become of Sam Bowen? I would give my last shirt to have him out here. I will make no promises, but I believe if John would give him a thousand dollars and send him out here he would not regret it. He might possibly do very well here, but he could do little without capital.
Remember me to all my St. Louis and Keokuk friends, and tell Challie and Hallie Renson that I heard a military band play What are the Wild Waves Saying? the other night, and it reminded me very forcibly of them. It brought Ella Creel and Belle across the Desert too in an instant, for they sang the song in Orions yard the first time I ever heard it. It was like meeting an old friend. I tell you I could have swallowed that whole band, trombone and all, if such a compliment would have been any gratification to them.
Love to the young folks,
Sam.
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 Mas 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 Bayso 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. Ill build a country seat there one of these days that will make the Devils 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. Moffetts 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 Warrioran 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, well 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 oclock, 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 dont think we shall have time to pick up those who fall..
That is Stoughters house, I expect, that Cousin Jim has moved into. This is just the country for Cousin Jim to live in. I dont believe it would take him six months to make $100,000 here, if he had 3,000 dollars to commence with. I suppose he cant 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 Ill 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 Twains later opinion of Cousin Jim Lamptons 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.[6] 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 wasnt 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 Pikes Peak, a little matter of 700 miles from St. Jo, you might take the coach, and I wouldnt 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 wouldnt have found out if I hadnt got myself into this scrape. I expect to return to St. Louis in July per steamer. I dont 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 wouldnt care whether school kept or not. If the ledge should prove to be worthless, wed 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, well have a mill-site, water power, and pay-rock, all handy. Then we shant care whether we have capital or not. Mill-folks will build us a mill, and wait for their pay. If nothing goes wrong, well strike the ledge in June and if we do, Ill be home in July, you know.
Pamela, dont you know that undemonstrated human calculations wont do to bet on? Dont you know that I have only talked, as yet, but proved nothing? Dont you know that I have expended money in this country but have made none myself? Dont you know that I have never held in my hands a gold or silver bar that belonged to me? Dont you know that its all talk and no cider so far? Dont 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 peoples poor frail human nature is a sort of crazy institution anyhow, ought to have suggested them to you. Now, if I hadnt thoughtlessly got you into the notion of coming out here, and thereby got myself into a scrape, I wouldnt 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 wouldnt cost me the loss of an hours 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