The next evening when supper was prepared, Harding was not present. He had bruised one hand so badly in the mine the previous day, that he was forced to have it bound up and treated with liniments and had not worked that day. Thinking he would be home soon the rest ate their suppers, but it was an hour before he came. When he arrived he had a troubled look, and being pressed to tell what had gone wrong, he stated that he had met a group of five miners from the Sierra Nevada day shift, men whom they all knew, who, without provocation, had commenced abusing him; jeering him about joining with six or seven more miners, hiring a house and a cook, and putting on airs; that finally they dared him to fight, and when he offered to fight any one of them, they said it was a mere "bluff," that he would not fight a woman unless she were sick, and further declared their purpose at some future time to go up and "clean out" the whole outfit.
Harding was the younger member of the Club; the rest knew about his former life; how his father, joining the reckless throng of the early days, lived fast, and suddenly died, just as the boy came from school; how the young man had put aside his hopes, learned mining, and with a brave purpose was working hard and dreaming of the time when he would wipe away every reproach which rested on his father's memory.
To have him set upon by roughs, causelessly, was like a blow in the face to every other member of the Club. When Harding had told his story, Miller said: "Who did you say these men were, Harding?"
Harding told their names.
"Why, they are not miners at all," said Carlin. "They are a lot of outside bruisers who have come here because there is going to be an election this year, and they have got their names on a pay roll to keep from being arrested as vagrants. You did just right, Harding, to get away from them with your crippled hand without serious trouble."
"Indeed you did, Harding," said Brewster. "One street fight at your age might ruin you for life."
"That is quite true," said Miller; "I am glad you had no fight."
Said Corrigan: "You offered to fight any one of the blackguards, and whin they refused, you came away? It was the proper thing to do."
"Did you have any weapons with you, Harding?" asked Ashley.
"Not a thing in the world," was the reply.
"I am glad of that," said Ashley. "The temptation to wing one or two of the brutes, would have been very great had you been 'fixed.'"
"I am glad it was no worse," said Wright. "You said it was down by the California Bank corner?"
"No," replied Harding; "it was by the Fredericksburg Brewery corner, on Union Street, just below C."
"You managed the matter first-rate, Harding," said Wright. "Do not think any more about it."
Harding, thus reassured by his friends, felt better, but said if three of the Club would go with him he would undertake to do his part to bring hostilities to a successful close with the bullies.
Ashley and Corrigan at once volunteered, but Wright and Carlin interfered and said it must not be, and Brewster expostulated against any such thing.
Corrigan and Ashley caught a look and gesture from Wright which caused them to subside, and Harding at length went out to supper.
When Harding came in from up town, Miller was making arrangements to go out, as he said, to meet a broker as per agreement. As Harding went to supper, Miller went out and Brewster resumed the reading of a book in which he was engaged. The Professor, Colonel and Alex had not yet come in.
Significant glances passed between the others, and soon Wright arose and said: "Boys! the Emmetts drill to-night; suppose we go down to the armory and look on for half an hour."
The rest all agreed that it would be good exercise, and quietly the four men went out, Wright saying as he started: "Brewster, if the others come, tell them we have just gone down to the Emmetts armory, and will be back in half an hour or so."
The Professor and Alex shortly after came in, a little later the Colonel and Miller. It was nearly an hour before the others returned. When they did they were in the best possible humor; spoke of the perfectness of the Emmetts' drill; told of something they had heard down town which was droll, while Barney in particular was full of merriment over a speech that had that day been made by a countryman of his, Mr. Snow, in a Democratic convention, and insisted upon telling Brewster about it.
Brewster laid down his book and assumed the attitude of a listener.
"It was this way," said Barney. "The convintion had made all its nominations, when it was proposed that on Friday nixt a grand mass-ratification matin' should be hild at Carson City, the matin' to be intinded for the inauguratin' of the campaign, where all the faithful from surroundin' counties might mate and glorify, and thus intimidate the inemy from the viry commincement.
"The proposition was carried by acclamation, and jist thin a mimber sprang up and moved that the matin' should be a barbecue. This motion likewise carried by an overwhilmin' vote. Whin the noise died away a bit, my ould friend Snow, he of the boardin' house, arose and made a motion. It was beautiful. Listen!
"'Mr. Spaker! Bain that the hift of the Dimocratic party do not atemateof a Friday, I move yees, sir, that we make it afishbarbecue.'"
A great laugh followed Barney's account of the motion, and then the usual comparison of notes on stocks took place. Miller was sure that Silver Hill was the best buy on the lode; Corrigan had been told by a Gold Hill miner that Justice was looking mighty encouraging; the Colonel had heard the superintendent of the Curry tell the superintendent of the Belcher that he was in wonderfully kindly ground on the two thousand foot level; the Professor had that day heard the superintendent of the Savage declare that the water was lowering four feet an hour, while all were wondering when the Sierra Nevada would break, as it was too high for the development. By all is meant all but Brewster and Harding; they never joined in any conversations about stocks.
At length the stock talk slackened, when Corrigan again referred to the fish barbecue resolution. Naturally enough, the conversation drifted into a discussion of the humor of the coast, when the Colonel said:
"There is not much pure humor on this coast. There is plenty of that material called humor, which has a bitter sting to it, but that is not the genuine article. The men here who think as Hood wrote, are not plenty. I suspect the bitter twang to all the humor here comes from the isolation of men from the society of women, from broken hopes, and it seems to me is generally an attempt to hurl contempt, not upon the individual at whom it is fired, but at the outrageous fortunes which hedge men around. The coast has been running over with that sort of thing, I guess since 'forty-nine.'
"A man here, fond of his wife and children, said to a friend a day or two after they went away for a visit to California: 'Did you ever see a motherless colt?'
"'Oh, yes,' was the reply.
"'Then,' said the man, 'you know just how I feel.'
"'Yes,' said the friend. 'I suppose you feel as though you are not worth a dam.'
"I know a brother lawyer who is somewhat famous for getting the clients whom he defends convicted. One morning he met a brother attorney, a wary old lawyer, and said to him: 'I heard some men denouncing you this morning and I took up your defense.'
"'What did you say?' the other asked.
"'Those men were slandering you and I took it upon myself to defend you,' said the first lawyer.
"The old lawyer took the other by the arm, led him aside, then putting his lips close to the ear of his friend, in a hoarse whisper said: 'Don't do it any more.'
"'I am going to lecture to-night at C——,' said a pompous man.
"'I am glad of it,' was the quick answer. 'I have hated the people there for years. No punishment is too severe for them.'
"'I am particular who I drink with,' said a man curtly to another.
"'Yes?' was the answer. 'I outgrew that foolish pride long ago. I would as soon you would drink with me as not.'
"'I do not require lecturing from you,' said a man. 'I am no reformed drunkard.'
"'Then why do you not reform?' was the response.
"This coast is full of the echoes of such things."
The Professor spoke next. "I think," said he, "that there is more extravagance in figures of speech on this coast than in any other country. Marcus Shults had a difficulty in Eureka the other day, when I was there. He told me about it. Said he: 'I told him to keep away; that I was afraid of him. I wanted some good man to hear me say that, but I had my eye on him every minute, and had he come a step nearer, why—when the doctors would have been called in to dissect him they would have thought they had struck a new lead mine.'"
Here Wright interrupted the Professor. "Marcus was from my State, Professor. Did you ever hear him explain why he did not become a fighter?"
The Professor answered that he never had, when Wright continued:
"Marcus never took kindly to hard work. Indeed, he seems to have constitutional objections to it. As he tells the story, while crossing the plains he made up his mind that, upon reaching California, he would declare himself and speedily develop into a fighter. His words, when he told me the story, were: 'They knew me back in Missouri, and I was a good deal too smart to attempt to practice any such profession there, but my idea was that California was filled with Yankees, and in that kind of a community I would have an easy going thing. Well, I crossed the Sierras and landed at Diamond Springs, outside of Placerville a few miles, and when I had been there a short time I changed my mind.'
"Of course at this point some one asks him why he changed his mind, whereupon he answers solemnly:
"'The first day I was there a State of Maine man cut the stomach out of a Texan.'
"Marcus was with the boys during that first tough winter in Eureka. One fearfully cold day a man was telling about the cold he had experienced in Idaho. When the story was finished Marcus cast a look of sovereign contempt upon the man and said:
"'You know nothing about cold weather, sir; you never saw any. You should go to Montana. In Montana I have seen plenty of mornings when were a man to have gone out of a warm room, crossed a street sixty feet wide and shaken his head, his ears would have snapped off like icicles.'
"The stranger, overawed, retired."
Alex spoke next: "The other day Dan Dennison asked me to go and look at a famous trotting horse that he has here. We went to the stable, and when the stepper was pointed out I started to go into the stall beside him, whereupon Dan caught me by the arm, drew me back, and said:
"'Be careful! Sometimes he deals from the bottom.'
"He stripped the covers from the horse and backed him out where I could look at him. The horse was not a beauty by any means and I intimated my belief of that fact to Dan.
"'No,' said Dennison. The truth is—' He hesitated a moment and then the words came in a volley:
"'He's deformed with speed.'
"There is a lawyer down town, you all know him. He has a head as big as the old croppings of the Gould and Curry, but like some other lawyers that practice at the Virginia City bar (here he glanced significantly at the Colonel), he is not an exceedingly bright or profound man. He was passing a downtown office yesterday when a man, who chanced to be standing in the office, said to the bookkeeper of the establishment:
"'Look at Judge ——. His head is bigger than Mount Davidson, but I am told that where his brains ought to be there is a howling wilderness.'
"The bookkeeper stopped his writing, carefully wiped his pen, laid it down, came out from behind his desk, came close up to the man who had spoken to him, and said:
"'Howling wilderness? I tell you, sir, that man's head is an unexplored mental Death Valley.'"
"Yes," said the Colonel, "his is a queer family. He has a brother who is a journalist; he has made a fortune in the business. His great theme is sketching the lives and characters of people."
"But has he made a fortune publishing sketches of that description?" asked Miller.
"Oh, no," replied the Colonel; "he has made his money by refraining from publishing them. People have paid him to suppress them."
"Colonel," asked Strong, "did it never occur to you that other fortunes might be made the same way by people just exactly adapted to that style of writing?"
"If it had," was the reply. "I should have considered that the field here was fully occupied."
"You might write a sketch of your own career," suggested the Professor.
"Don't do it, Colonel," said Alex.
"Why not?" asked Ashley.
"There is a law which sadly interferes with the circulation of a certain character of literature," said Alex.
"Alex," said the Colonel, "what a painstaking and delicate task it will be, under that law, to write your obituary."
"There will be great risk in writing yours, Colonel," said Alex; "but it will be a labor of love, nevertheless; a labor of love, Colonel."
"If you have it to do, Alex, don't forget my strongest characteristic," said the Colonel; "that lofty generosity, blended with a self-contained dignity, which made me indifferent always to the slanders of bad men."
It was always a delight to the Club to get these two to bantering each other.
Ashley here interposed and said: "You all know Professor ——. One night in Elko, last summer, he was conversing with Judge F—— of Elko. Both had been indulging a little too much; the Professor was growing talkative and the Judge morose.
"The Professor was telling about the battle of Buena Vista, in which he, a boy at the time, participated. In the midst of the description the Judge interrupted him with some remark which the Professor construed into an impeachment of his bravery.
"He leaned back in his chair and sat looking at the Judge for a full minute, as if in an astonished study, and then in a tone most dangerous, said:
"'I do not know how to classify you, sir. I do not know, sir, whether you are a wholly irresponsible idiot, or an unmitigated and infamous scoundrel, sir.'
"He was conscientious and methodical even in his wrath. He would not pass upon the specimen of natural history before him until certain to what species it belonged."
Said Miller: "Did you ever hear how Judge T—— of this city met a man who had been saying disrespectful things about him, but who came up to the Judge in a crowd and, with a smile, extended his hand? The Judge drew back quickly, thrust both hands in his side pockets and said:
"'Excuse me, sir; I have just washed my hands.'"
"I heard something yesterday of a rough man whom you all know, Zince Barnes," said the Professor, "which seemed to me as full of bitter humor as anything I have heard on this mountain side. You know that politics are running pretty high.
"Well, an impecunious man—so the story goes—called upon a certain gentleman who is reported to be rich and to have political aspirations, and tried to convince him that the expenditure of a certain sum of money in a certain way would redound amazingly to the credit, political, of the millionaire. The man of dollars could not see the proposition through the poor man's magnifying glasses, and the patriot retired baffled.
"A few minutes later, and while yet warm in his disappointment, he met Zince Barnes, told him of the interview and closed by expressing the belief that the millionaire was a tough, hard formation.
"'Hard!' said Zince. 'I should think so. The tears of widows and orphans are water on his wheel.'"
At this Corrigan 'roused up and said: "Speakin' of figures of spache, I heard some from a countrywoman of mine one bitter cowld mornin' last March. It was early; hardly light. John Mackay was comin' down from the Curry office on his way to the Con. Virginia office, and whin just opposite the Curry works, he met ould mother McGarrigle, who lives down by the freight depot. I was in the machane shop of the Curry works; they were just outside, and there being only an inch boord and about ten feet of space between us, I could hear ivery word plain, or rather I could not help but hear. The conversation ran about after this style:
"'Mornin', Meester Mackay, and may the Lord love yees.'
"'Good morning, madam.'
"'How's the beautiful wife and the charmin' childers over the big wathers, Mr. Mackay?'
"'They are all right.'
"'God be thanked intirely. Does yees know, Mr. Mackay, that in the hull course of me life I niver laid eyes upon childer so beautiful loike yees. Often and often I've tould the ould man that same. And they're will, are they?'
"'Yes, they are first-rate. I had a cable from them yesterday.'
"'A tilligram, was it? Oh, but is not that wonderful, though! A missige under the say and over the land to this barbarous place. It must have come like the smile of the Good God to yees.'
"'Oh, I get them every day.'
"'Ivery day! And phat do they cost?'
"'Oh, seven or eight dollars; sometimes more. It depends upon their length.'
"'Sivin or eight dollars! Oh, murther! But yees desarve it, Mr. Mackay. What would the poor do without yees in this town, Mr. Mackay? Only yisterday I was sayin' to the ould man, says I: "Mike, it shows the mercy of God whin money is given to a mon like Mr. John Mackay. It's a Providence he is to the city. God bless him." I did, indade.'
"By this time Mackay began to grow very ristless.
"'What can I do for you this morning, Mrs. McGarrigle?'
"'It's the ould mon, Lord love yees, Mr. Mackay. It's no work he's had for five wakes, and it's mighty little we have aither to ait or to wear. It's work I want for him.'
"'I am sorry, but our mines are full. Indeed, we are employing more men than we are justified in doing.'
"'But Mr. Mackay, it's so poor we are, and so hard it is getting along at all; put him on for a month and may all the saints bless yees.'
"'The city is full of poor people, madam. To determine what to do to mitigate the distress here occupies half our time.'
"'Yis, but ours is a particular hard case intirely. I am dilicate meself. I know I don't look so, but I am; and yees ought ter interpose to help a poor countryman of yees own in trouble.'
"By this time Mackay was half frozen and thoroughly out of patience. In his quick, sharp way he said: 'Madam, we cannot give all the men in the country employment.'
"The mask of the woman was off in an instant. With a scorn and hate unutterable she burst forth in almost a scrame.
"'Oh, yees can't. Oh, no! Yees forgits fen yees was poor your ownsilf, ye blackguard. Refusin' a poor man work, and shakin the mountains and churnin' the ocean avery day wid your siven and eight dollar missages. Yees can't employ all the min in the counthry. Don't yees own the whole counthry? And do yees think we'd apply to yees at all if we could find a dacant mon in the worreld? May the divil fly away wid yees, and whin he does yees may tell him for me if he gives a short bit for yer soul he'll chate himself worse nor he's been chated since he bargained with Judas Iscariot. Thake that, sur, wid me compliments, yees purse-proud parvenu.'
"When the woman began to rave, Mackay walked rapidly away, but she niver relaxed the scrame of her tirade until Mackay disappeared from sight. Thin she paused for a moment, thin to herself she muttered, 'But I got aven wid him oneway.' She thin turned and walked away toward her cabin.
"It was a case where money was no assistance to a man."
"There is a good deal of humor displayed in courts of justice at times, is there not, Colonel?" asked Wright.
"Oh, yes," was the reply. "Anyone would think so who ever heard old Frank Dunn explain to a court that the reason of his being late was because he had no watch, and deploring meanwhile his inability to purchase a watch because of the multitude of unaccountable fines which His Honor had seen proper, from time to time, to impose upon him."
"In that first winter in Eureka," said Wright, "I strolled into court one day when a trial was in progress.
"Judge D—— was managing one side and a volunteer lawyer the other. The volunteer lawyer had the best side, and to confuse the court, Judge D——, in his argument, misquoted the testimony somewhat. His opponent interrupted and repeated exactly what the witness had testified to.
"Turning to his opponent, Judge D——, with a sneer, said:
"'I see, sir, you are very much interested in the result of this case.'
"'Oh, no,' was the response. 'I am doing this for pure love. I do not make a cent in this case.'
"Then Judge D——, with still more bitterness, said:
"'That is like you. You try cases for nothing and cheatgoodlawyers out of their fees.'
"With a look of unfeigned astonishment the other lawyer said:
"'Well, what areyouangry about? How does that interfere withyou?'"
Here Brewster, who had been reading, laid down his book and said:
"I heard of a case as I came through Salt Lake City some years ago, which, if not particularly humorous, revealed wonderful presence of mind on the part of the presiding judge. It may be the story is not true, but it was told in Salt Lake City as one very liable to be true.
"A miner, who had been working a placer claim in the hills all summer—so the story ran—and who had been his own cook, barber, chambermaid and tailor, came down to Salt Lake City to see the sights and purchase supplies. He had dough in his whiskers, grease upon his overalls, pine twigs in his hair, and altogether did not present the appearance of a dancing master or a millionaire. Hardly had he reached the city when he thought it necessary to take something in order to 'brace up.' One drink gave him courage to take another, and in forty minutes he was dead drunk on the sidewalk.
"The police picked him up and tossed him into a cell in the jail, disdaining to search him, so abject seemed his condition.
"Next morning he was brought before the Police Judge and the charge of D. D. was preferred against him.
"'You are fined ten dollars, sir,' was the brief sentence of the Court. The man unbuttoned two pairs of overalls and from some inner recess of his garments produced a roll of greenbacks as big as a man's fist. It was a trying moment for the Judge, but his presence of mind did not fail him. He raised up from his seat, leaned one elbow on his desk and, as if in continuation of what he had already said, thundered out: 'And one hundred dollars for contempt of court.'
"The man paid the one hundred and ten dollars and hastily left the court and the city."
Miller was the next to speak. Said he: "Once in Idaho I heard a specimen of grim humor which entertained me immensely. There was a man up there who owned a train of pack mules and made a living by packing in goods to the traders and packing out ore to be sent away to the reduction works. He was caught in a storm midway between Challis and Powder Flat. It was mid-winter; the thermometer at Challis marked thirty-four degrees below zero. He was out in the storm and cold two days and one night, and his sufferings must have been indescribable. When safely housed and ministered to at last a friend said to him: 'George, that was a tough experience, was it not?'
"'Oh, regular business should never be called tough,' said he, 'but since I began to get warm I have been thinking that, if I make money enough, may be in three or four years I will get married, if I can deceive some woman into making the arrangement. If I should succeed, and if after a reasonable time a boy should be born to us, and if the youngster should "stand off" the colic, teething, measles, whooping cough, scarlet fever and falling down stairs, and grow to be ten or twelve years old, and have some sense, if I ever tell him the story of the past two days of my life and he don't cry his eyes out, I will beat him to death, sure.'"
The Professor was reminded by the anecdote of something which transpired in Belmont, Nevada, the previous winter. Said he: "I went to Belmont to examine a property last winter and while there Judge —— came in from a prospecting trip down into the upper edge of Death Valley. I saw him as he drove into town, and went to meet him. He was in no very good spirits. On the way to his office he said: 'I was persuaded against my better judgment to go on that trip. The thief who coaxed me away told a wonderful story. He had been there; he had seen the mine, but had been driven away by the Shoshones; he knew every spring and camping place. It would be just a pleasure trip. So, like an idiot, I went with him. It was twice as far as he said, and we got out of food; he could not find one particular spring, and we were forty hours without water. We had to camp in the snow, and the only pleasure I had in the whole journey was in seeing my companion slip and sit down squarely on a Spanish bayonet plant. It was a double pleasure, indeed; one pleasure to see him sit down and another pleasure to see him get right up again without resting at all, and with a look on his face as though a serious mistake had been made somewhere.'
"By this time we had reached the Judge's office. On the desk lay a score of letters which had been accumulating during his absence. Begging me to excuse him for five minutes, he sat down and commenced to run through his mail.
"Suddenly he stopped, seized a pen and wrote rapidly for two or three minutes. Then he threw down the pen and begged my attention. First he read a letter which was dated somewhere in Iowa. The writer stated that he had a few thousand dollars, but had determined to leave Iowa and seek some new field, and asked the Judge's advice about removing to Nevada. I asked the Judge if he knew the man.
"'Of course not,' said he. 'He has found my name in some directory, and so has written at random. He has probably written similar letters to twenty other men. Possibly he is writing a book descriptive of the Far West by an actual observer,' continued the Judge.
"'How are you going to reply?' I asked.
"'That is just the point,' he answered. 'I have written and I want you to tell me if I have done about the right thing. Listen.'
"At this he read his letter. It was in these identical words:
My Dear Sir:—Your esteemed favor is at hand and after careful deliberation I have determined to write to you to come to Nevada. I cannot, in the brief space to which a letter must necessarily be confined, enter into details; but I can assure you that if you will come here, settle and invest your means, the final result will be most happy to you. A few brief years of existence here will prepare you to enjoy all the rest and all the beatitudes which the paradise of the blessed can bestow, and if, perchance, your soul should take the other track, hell itself can bring you no surprises. Respectfully, etc.
My Dear Sir:—Your esteemed favor is at hand and after careful deliberation I have determined to write to you to come to Nevada. I cannot, in the brief space to which a letter must necessarily be confined, enter into details; but I can assure you that if you will come here, settle and invest your means, the final result will be most happy to you. A few brief years of existence here will prepare you to enjoy all the rest and all the beatitudes which the paradise of the blessed can bestow, and if, perchance, your soul should take the other track, hell itself can bring you no surprises. Respectfully, etc.
"He mailed the letter, but at last accounts the gentleman had not come West."
"That," said Alex, "reminds me of Charley O——'s mining experience. An Eastern company purchased a series of mines at Austin and made Charley superintendent of the company at a handsome salary. Charley proceeded to his post of duty, built a fine office and drew his salary for a year. He did his best, too, to make something of the property, but it is a most difficult thing to make a mine yield when there is no ore in it. The result was nothing but 'Irish dividends' for the stockholders. It was in the old days, before the railway came along.
"One morning, when the overland coach drove into Austin, a gentleman dismounted, asked where the office of the Lucknow Gold and Silver Consolidated Mining and Milling Company was, and being directed, went to the office and without knocking, opened the door and walked in. Charley was sitting with his feet on the desk, smoking a cigar and reading the morning paper.
"'Is Mr. O—— in?' politely inquired the stranger.
"'I am Mr. O——,' responded Charley. The stranger unbuttoned his coat, dived into a side pocket and drawing out a formidable envelope, presented it to O——.
"Charley tore open the envelope and found that the letter within was a formal notice from the secretary of the company that the bearer had been appointed superintendent and resident manager of the L. G. and S. C. M. & M. Co., and requesting O——to surrender to him the books and all other property of the company. After reading the letter Charley looked up and said to the stranger:
"'And so you have come to take my place?'
"'It seems so,' was the reply.
"'On your account I am awfully sorry,' said Charley.
"The stranger did not believe that he was in any particular need of sympathy.
"'But you will not live six months here,' said Charley.
"The stranger was disposed to take his chances.
"This happened in August. Charley took the first stage and came in to Virginia City. In the following December the morning papers here contained a dispatch announcing that Mr. ——, superintendent of the Lucknow Gold and Silver Consolidated Mining and Milling Company, was dangerously ill of pneumonia. On the succeeding morning there was another dispatch from Austin saying that Mr. ——, late superintendent of the Lucknow Gold and Silver Consolidated Mining and Milling Company, died the previous evening and that the body would be sent overland to San Francisco, to be shipped from there to the East. Two days after that, about the time the overland coaches were due, Charley was seen wading through the mud down to the Overland barn. He went in and saw two coaches with fresh mud upon them. The curtains of the first were rolled up. The curtains of the second were buckled down close. O—— went to the second coach, loosened one of the curtains and threw it back; then reaching in and tapping the coffin with his knuckles, said: 'Didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell you? You thought you could stop my salary and still live. See what a fix it has brought you to!' And then he went away. No one would ever have known that he had been there had not an 'ostler overheard him.
"Speaking of Austin, I think the remark made by Lawyer J. B. Felton of Oakland, California, regarding the mines of Austin, was as cute as anything I ever heard. When the mines were first discovered Felton was induced to invest a good deal of money in them.
"The mines were three hundred and fifty miles from civilization, there being no reduction works of any kind, and pure silver would hardly have paid. So Felton did not realize readily from his investment. After some months had gone by Felton was standing on Montgomery street, San Francisco, one day when a long procession, celebrating St. Patrick's day, filed past. Of course Erin's flag was 'full high advanced' in the procession. Turning to a friend, Felton said: 'Can you tell why that flag is like a Reese River mine?'
"The friend could not.
"Said Felton: 'It's composed mostly of sham rock and a blasted lyre!'"
Ashley was next to speak.
"After all," said he, "the funniest things are sometimes those which are not meant to be funny at all. Steve Gillis, in a newspaper office down town, perpetrated one the other day. An Eastern editor was here, and when he found out how some of the men in the office were working he was paralyzed, and said to Gillis:
"'There's ——, you will go into his room some day and find him dead. He will go like a flash some time. No man can do what he is doing and stand it.'
"'Do you think so?' asked Gillis.
"'Indeed I do; I know it,' said the man.
"'Then,' said Gillis, 'you ought to be here. You would see the most magnificent funeral ever had in Virginia City.'"
By this time it was very late and the Club dispersed for the night.
Next morning Harding, who was reading the morning paper, came upon this item:
Last evening, about seven-thirty o'clock, there was a terrific fight on Union Street, near the depot; four men against five. It lasted but a few minutes, but the five men were dreadfully beaten. No one seemed to know the origin of the fight. A boy who was standing across the street says the men met, a few low words passed between them, and then the fight ensued. The four men, who seem to have been the assailants, hardly suffered any damage, but the five others were so badly beaten that two of them had to be carried home, while the other three had fearful mansard roofs put upon them.There were no arrests; indeed little sympathy was felt for the injured men, for though at present at work in the mines, they are known as bullies and roughs by trade.No one seems to know who the victors were, except that they were miners. One man told our reporter that he knew one of the men by sight; that he was, he thought, a Gold Hill miner. No weapons were drawn on either side, and no loud words were spoken, but it was as fierce an encounter as has been seen here since the old fighting days.
Last evening, about seven-thirty o'clock, there was a terrific fight on Union Street, near the depot; four men against five. It lasted but a few minutes, but the five men were dreadfully beaten. No one seemed to know the origin of the fight. A boy who was standing across the street says the men met, a few low words passed between them, and then the fight ensued. The four men, who seem to have been the assailants, hardly suffered any damage, but the five others were so badly beaten that two of them had to be carried home, while the other three had fearful mansard roofs put upon them.
There were no arrests; indeed little sympathy was felt for the injured men, for though at present at work in the mines, they are known as bullies and roughs by trade.
No one seems to know who the victors were, except that they were miners. One man told our reporter that he knew one of the men by sight; that he was, he thought, a Gold Hill miner. No weapons were drawn on either side, and no loud words were spoken, but it was as fierce an encounter as has been seen here since the old fighting days.
Harding looked up from the paper and said:
"Wright, what was it you said about the drill of the Emmett Guards, last night?"
"They are splendid, those Emmetts," was the reply, with an imperturbable face.
Pay day was on the fifth of the month. On the night of the thirteenth, when the Club met at the usual hour for supper, Miller was not present. He was never as regular as the others, so the rest did not wait supper for him. After supper the Club settled down to their pipes, the Professor, the Colonel and Alex came in, and the usual discussion about stocks was indulged in for some minutes, the chief matter dwelt upon being the steady and unaccountable rise in Sierra Nevada. At length it was noticed that Carlin did not join as usual in the conversation, and Ashley asked him what he seemed so cast down about.
At this Carlin shook himself together and said: "I will be glad if you will all give me your attention for a moment." He took a letter from his pocket and read as follows:
Carlin: When you receive this I shall be on my way, by horseback (overland), to Eastern Nevada. I am going to Austin, and if I do not obtain employment there, shall continue on to Eureka. You can find me in one place or the other by Sunday.The evening of pay day, with the money which the Club had placed in my hands to pay the bills, I went down town to carry out the wishes of the Club, when I met a friend, who is in the close confidence of the "big ring" of operators. He called me aside and told me that he had inside information that within three days Silver Hill would commence to jump, that within a week the present value would be multiplied by five or six and more likely by ten. That there would be an immediate and great advance he assured me was absolutely certain. He told me how he had received his information, and it seemed to me to be conclusive.I found a broker, unloaded my pockets, and bade him buy Silver Hill; to buy on a margin all he could afford to. The stock has fallen thirty per cent., and the indications are that it will go still lower. Yesterday I suppose it was sold out, for on the previous day I received a notice from the broker to please call at his office at once. My courage, that never failed me before, broke down. I could not go. The amount of money belonging to the Club which I had was altogether $575.00. Of course it in lost. It is a clear case of breach of trust, if not of embezzlement. You can make me smart for it, if you feel disposed to, or if you can give me the time, I can pay the money in about eight months after I get to work. That is, I can send you about eighty dollars per month. If wanted I will be in Austin or Eureka.I might make this letter much longer, but I suspect by the time you will have read this much, you will think it long enough. Believe me none of you can think meaner of me than I do of myself.Joe Miller.
Carlin: When you receive this I shall be on my way, by horseback (overland), to Eastern Nevada. I am going to Austin, and if I do not obtain employment there, shall continue on to Eureka. You can find me in one place or the other by Sunday.
The evening of pay day, with the money which the Club had placed in my hands to pay the bills, I went down town to carry out the wishes of the Club, when I met a friend, who is in the close confidence of the "big ring" of operators. He called me aside and told me that he had inside information that within three days Silver Hill would commence to jump, that within a week the present value would be multiplied by five or six and more likely by ten. That there would be an immediate and great advance he assured me was absolutely certain. He told me how he had received his information, and it seemed to me to be conclusive.
I found a broker, unloaded my pockets, and bade him buy Silver Hill; to buy on a margin all he could afford to. The stock has fallen thirty per cent., and the indications are that it will go still lower. Yesterday I suppose it was sold out, for on the previous day I received a notice from the broker to please call at his office at once. My courage, that never failed me before, broke down. I could not go. The amount of money belonging to the Club which I had was altogether $575.00. Of course it in lost. It is a clear case of breach of trust, if not of embezzlement. You can make me smart for it, if you feel disposed to, or if you can give me the time, I can pay the money in about eight months after I get to work. That is, I can send you about eighty dollars per month. If wanted I will be in Austin or Eureka.
I might make this letter much longer, but I suspect by the time you will have read this much, you will think it long enough. Believe me none of you can think meaner of me than I do of myself.
Joe Miller.
After the reading of the letter, Wright was the first to find his voice. Said he: "It is too bad. I knew Miller was reckless, but I believed his recklessness never could go beyond his own affairs. I had implicit faith in him."
"Had he only told us," said Ashley, "that he wanted to use the money, he could have had five times the sum."
"What I hate about it, is the want of courage and the lack of faith in the rist of us," said Corrigan. "Why did he not come loike a mon and say, 'Boys, I have lost a trifle of your money in the malstroom of stocks; be patient and I will work out?'"
"It is a pitiable business," said Carlin. "The money—that is the loss of it—does not hurt at all. But it was Miller who proposed the forming of this Club, and he is the one who first betrays us, and then lacks the sand to tell us about it frankly. But no matter. Jesus Christ failed to secure twelve men who were all true. What do you think of it, Brewster?"
"What Miller has done," said Brewster, "is but a natural result when a working man goes down into the pit of stock gambling. The hope in that business is to obtain money without earning it. It is a kind of lunacy. In a few months, men so engaged lose everything like a steady poise to their minds. They take on all the attributes which distinguish the gambler. Their ideas are either up in the clouds or down in the depths. Worst of all, they forget that a dollar means so many blows, so many drops of sweat, that a dollar, when we see it, means that sometime, somewhere, to produce that dollar, an honest dollar's worth of work was performed, that when that dollar is transferred to another, another dollar's worth of work in some form must be given in return, or the eternal balance of Justice will be disarranged. Miller reached the point where he did not prize his own dollars at their true value. It ought not to be expected that he would be more careful of ours."
"Colonel, what is your judgment about the business?" Carlin asked.
"It seems to me," was the reply, "that when he went away Miller insulted all of you—all of us, for that matter. His conduct assumes that we are all pawnbrokers who would go into mourning over a few dollars lost."
"Oh, no, I think not," said Strong. "Miller is a sensitive, high-strung man. He has been in all sorts of dangers and difficulties and has never faltered. At last he found himself in a place where, for the first time, he felt his honor wounded, and his courage failed him. He is not running away from us, he is trying to run away from himself."
"What is your judgment, Professor?" asked Carlin.
"As they say out here, Miller got off wrong," said the Professor; "and he seems blinded by the mistake so much that he cannot see his best way back."
"Harding, why are you so still?" asked Carlin.
"I am sorry for Miller," said Harding. "He is the best-hearted man in the world."
"It is a most unpleasant business. What shall we do about it?" asked Carlin. "I wish all would express an opinion."
"What ought to be done, Carlin?" asked Wright.
Carlin answered: "The business way would be to formally expel him from the Club, and to write him that, without waiving any legal rights, we will give him the time he requires in which to settle."
"That would no doubt be just," said Wright.
"There would be no injustice in it, from a business standpoint," said Ashley.
"He certainly," said Brewster, "would have no right to complain of such treatment."
Said Corrigan: "The verdict of the worreld would be that we had acted fairly."
"No one," said the Colonel, "could blame you for firing him out. He has not only wronged you directly, but at the same moment has attacked your credit in the city where you are owing bills."
"That is true," said the Professor.
"It is only a matter of discretion what to do," said Alex. "All the direct equities are against Miller."
"There is no decision so fair as by a secret ballot," said Harding. "Let us take a vote on the proposition of Miller's expulsion, and all must take part."
This was agreed to. Nine slips of paper were prepared, all of one size and length, one was given to each man to write "expulsion, yes," or "expulsion, no," as he pleased. A hat was placed on the table for a ballot-box; each in turn deposited his ballot and resumed his seat.
The silence was growing painful when Brewster said: "Carlin, Miller wrote back to you; you will have to write to him. Suppose you be the returning board to count the votes and make up the returns."
Carlin arose and went to the table. There he paused, and his face wore a look of extreme trouble; but he shook off the influence, whatever it was, stretched out his hand in an absent-minded way, picked up a ballot and slowly brought it before his eyes. He looked at it, turned it over and looked on the other side, then with a foolish laugh he said: "Why, the ballot is blank."
He transferred it to his left hand, picked up another ballot with his right hand; looked at it; it, too, was blank.
So in turn he took up one after another. They all were blank.
As he called the last one and started to resume his seat, Harding, in a low voice, as to himself, said: "Thank God!"
All looked a little foolish for a moment, and then the Colonel said: "Why, Carlin, you are not much of a returning board, after all."
Said Corrigan: "It sames the convintion moved to make it unanimous."
Said Carlin: "I could not vote to expel Miller. He has long been my friend. I know how sensitive he is. He wronged us a little, but I just could not do it."
Said Brewster: "I could not do it, because that would be the quickest way to cause a man, when on the down grade, to keep on. To make him feel that those who have been most intimate with him, despise him, may be exact justice, but it seldom brings reformation."
Said the Colonel: "I could not do it in his absence. It would have had a look of assassination from behind."
"I could not do it," said the Professor. "The news would have got out and the Club would have been disgraced."
"It was not much more than an error of judgment, on Miller's part," said Wright. "He never intended to wrong us out of a penny. Crime is measured only by the intention."
"That is the true inwardness of the whole business, Wright, and that thought kept my ballot blank," was Alex's suggestion.
"I could not do it," said Ashley. "His expulsion would have looked as though we measured friendship by dollars. If a man ever needs friends, it is when he is in trouble."
"I could not do it," chimed in Corrigan. "Suppose all our mistakes shall be remimbered against us, how will we iver git admitted to the great Club above?"
"I could not do it, because I love him," said Harding.
"I feared," said Brewster, "that things were going wrong with Miller a week ago, when I noticed that in lieu of the costly chair which he first brought to the Club, he was using that old, second-hand cheap affair."
"I think," said Harding, "that I have a right to tell now what has been a secret. You know Miller and myself worked together. We were coming up from the mine one evening, ten days ago, when we chanced to pass old man Arnold's cabin—Arnold, who was crippled by a fall in the Curry some months ago. The old man was sitting outside his cabin and resting his crippled limb on a crutch. Miller stopped and asked him how he was getting on, and talked pleasantly with him for a few minutes, when an express wagon came by. Miller left the old man with a pleasant word, asked me if I would not wait there a few minutes, hailed the expressman, jumped upon his wagon, said something to the man which I did not understand, and the wagon was driven rapidly away.
"In a few minutes it returned; Miller sprang down; the expressman handed him the great easy chair; he carried it into the door of the cabin, setting it just inside; then lifted the old man in his arms from his hard chair, placed him in the soft cushions of the other, moved it gently until it was in just the position where the old man could best enjoy looking at the descending night; then, picking up the old battered chair, he said, cheerily: 'Arnold, I want to trade chairs with you,' and walked so rapidly away that the old man could not recover from his surprise enough to thank him. This old chair is the one he brought away.
"Coming home he said to me: 'Harding, don't give me away on this business, please. We are all liable to be crippled some time, and to need comforts which we do not half appreciate now. I would have given the old man the chair two weeks ago, but I did not have it quite paid for at that time.'
"I tell you the story now because I do not think there is any obligation to keep it a secret any longer."
When Harding had finished there was not one man present who was not glad that the vote had resulted unanimously against the generous man's expulsion.
The next question was as to the form of the letter that should be sent Miller. This awakened a good deal of discussion. It was finally decided that each should write a letter, and that the one which should strike the Club most favorably should be sent, or that from the whole a new letter should be prepared. Writing materials were brought out and all went to work on their letters. For several minutes nothing but the scratching of pens broke the silence.
When the letters were all completed, Carlin was called upon to read first. He proceeded as follows:
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Friend Miller:—The Club has talked everything over. All think you made a great mistake in going away, and that it would be better for you to return to your work. Your old place in the Club will be kept open for you.Sincerely yours,Tom Carlin.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Friend Miller:—The Club has talked everything over. All think you made a great mistake in going away, and that it would be better for you to return to your work. Your old place in the Club will be kept open for you.
Sincerely yours,
Tom Carlin.
Wright read next as follows:
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Joe:—I make a poor hand at writing. I have been banging hammers too many years. But what I want to say is, you had better, so soon as your visit is over, come along back. There wasn't a bit of sense in your going away. Your absence breaks up the equilibrium of the Club amazingly. The whole outfit is becoming demoralized, and the members are growing more garrulous than so many magpies. We shall look for you within a week. We all want to see you.Your sincere friend,Adrian Wright.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Joe:—I make a poor hand at writing. I have been banging hammers too many years. But what I want to say is, you had better, so soon as your visit is over, come along back. There wasn't a bit of sense in your going away. Your absence breaks up the equilibrium of the Club amazingly. The whole outfit is becoming demoralized, and the members are growing more garrulous than so many magpies. We shall look for you within a week. We all want to see you.
Your sincere friend,
Adrian Wright.
The Colonel responded next.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Miller:—You made a precious old fool of yourself, rushing off as you did. Are you the first man who has ever been deceived by Comstock "dead points?" If you think you are, try and explain how it is that while some thousands of bright fellows have devotedly pursued the business during the past fifteen years, you can, in five minutes, count on your fingers all that have saved a quarter of a dollar at the business.The whole Club join me in saying that you ought to return without delay.Yours truly,Savage.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Miller:—You made a precious old fool of yourself, rushing off as you did. Are you the first man who has ever been deceived by Comstock "dead points?" If you think you are, try and explain how it is that while some thousands of bright fellows have devotedly pursued the business during the past fifteen years, you can, in five minutes, count on your fingers all that have saved a quarter of a dollar at the business.
The whole Club join me in saying that you ought to return without delay.
Yours truly,
Savage.
The Professor's letter, which was next read, was as follows:
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Dear Miller:—We do not like your going away. The act was deficient in candor, and seems to have a look as though you estimated yourself or the Club at too low a figure. Suppose you did get a little off; the true business would have been to have told us all about it. We would have "put up the mud" and carried the thing along until it came your way. But what is done is done. The thing to decide now is what it is best for you to do. Austin is no place for you. The mines there are rich, but the veins are small and the district restricted. In that camp the formation makes impossible the creation of a big body of ore; the fissures are necessarily small. You would die of asphyxia within a month or go blind searching for a place where an ore body "could make." Eureka is open to other objections. It would require six months for you to become acclimated there, and the chances are that within that time you would be tied up in a knot with lead colic. The proper course to pursue is to come back. The Club are all agreed on that proposition.Yours truly,Stoneman.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Dear Miller:—We do not like your going away. The act was deficient in candor, and seems to have a look as though you estimated yourself or the Club at too low a figure. Suppose you did get a little off; the true business would have been to have told us all about it. We would have "put up the mud" and carried the thing along until it came your way. But what is done is done. The thing to decide now is what it is best for you to do. Austin is no place for you. The mines there are rich, but the veins are small and the district restricted. In that camp the formation makes impossible the creation of a big body of ore; the fissures are necessarily small. You would die of asphyxia within a month or go blind searching for a place where an ore body "could make." Eureka is open to other objections. It would require six months for you to become acclimated there, and the chances are that within that time you would be tied up in a knot with lead colic. The proper course to pursue is to come back. The Club are all agreed on that proposition.
Yours truly,
Stoneman.
Ashley's letter, in these words, followed:
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Dear Friend Joe:—Your going away has caused us ever so much trouble. It was foolish and cruel of you to imagine—even when you were in trouble—that any of the Club weighed friendship on old-fashioned placer diggings gold scales. We are sorry for your misfortune, but it is onyouraccount that we are sorry. It is not so serious that it cannot be made up in a little while, if you do not persist in remaining in some place where there are no opportunities to do any good for yourself. It may be a long time, among strangers, before you can obtain employment. Because you have made one mistake, do not make another, but without delay come back. This is Tuesday. It will take you until about Saturday next to get to Austin. You will be pretty badly used up and will have to rest a day. But on Sunday evening you ought to start back by stage and rail. That will bring you home a week from to-day. A week from to-night then, we shall expect your account of how big the mosquitoes are at the sink of the Carson, and what your opinion is of Churchill County as a location for a country residence.Yours fraternally,Herbert Ashley.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Dear Friend Joe:—Your going away has caused us ever so much trouble. It was foolish and cruel of you to imagine—even when you were in trouble—that any of the Club weighed friendship on old-fashioned placer diggings gold scales. We are sorry for your misfortune, but it is onyouraccount that we are sorry. It is not so serious that it cannot be made up in a little while, if you do not persist in remaining in some place where there are no opportunities to do any good for yourself. It may be a long time, among strangers, before you can obtain employment. Because you have made one mistake, do not make another, but without delay come back. This is Tuesday. It will take you until about Saturday next to get to Austin. You will be pretty badly used up and will have to rest a day. But on Sunday evening you ought to start back by stage and rail. That will bring you home a week from to-day. A week from to-night then, we shall expect your account of how big the mosquitoes are at the sink of the Carson, and what your opinion is of Churchill County as a location for a country residence.
Yours fraternally,
Herbert Ashley.
Alex's letter was very brief, as follows:
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.Come back, Joe. Were your precedent to be strictly followed, we should suddenly lose a majority of our most respected citizens. In the interest of society and of the Club come.Alex.To Mr. Joe Miller, Austin.
Virginia City, August 13th, 1878.
Come back, Joe. Were your precedent to be strictly followed, we should suddenly lose a majority of our most respected citizens. In the interest of society and of the Club come.
Alex.
To Mr. Joe Miller, Austin.
Corrigan did not like to read his letter, but the Club insisted, and after declaring that the Club would get "a dale the worst of it," he proceeded as follows:
Virginia City, Nevada, August 13th, 1878.Dear Auld Jo:—It's murthered yees ought to be for doing onything phat compills me to write you a lether. Whin I commince to write I fale as though all the air pipes were shut off intirely. I would sooner pick up a thousand dollars in the strate, ony day, than to have to hould a pin in me hand and make sinse in my head at the same moment. You know that same, too, and hince phy did yees go away and force all this work upon me? Is it in love wid horseback exercise that ye are? We have been talkin' your case over, quiet loike, in the Club, and we have unanimously rached the irresistible conclusion that it was an unpatriotic thing for yees to do—to propose this Club business and thin dezart it just whin our habits had become fixed, so to spake; and it would become a mather of sarious inconvanience for us to change. In this wurreld a man can shirk onything excipt his duty, and it is a plain proposition that it is your duty immejitely to come back. My poor fingers are cramped to near brakin' by this writin', and it is your falt, the whole of it, ond I pray yees don't let it happen ony more.Faithfully,B. Corrigan.P. S.—Should you nade a bit of coin to return comfortably draw on me through W. F. & Co.Barney.
Virginia City, Nevada, August 13th, 1878.
Dear Auld Jo:—It's murthered yees ought to be for doing onything phat compills me to write you a lether. Whin I commince to write I fale as though all the air pipes were shut off intirely. I would sooner pick up a thousand dollars in the strate, ony day, than to have to hould a pin in me hand and make sinse in my head at the same moment. You know that same, too, and hince phy did yees go away and force all this work upon me? Is it in love wid horseback exercise that ye are? We have been talkin' your case over, quiet loike, in the Club, and we have unanimously rached the irresistible conclusion that it was an unpatriotic thing for yees to do—to propose this Club business and thin dezart it just whin our habits had become fixed, so to spake; and it would become a mather of sarious inconvanience for us to change. In this wurreld a man can shirk onything excipt his duty, and it is a plain proposition that it is your duty immejitely to come back. My poor fingers are cramped to near brakin' by this writin', and it is your falt, the whole of it, ond I pray yees don't let it happen ony more.
Faithfully,
B. Corrigan.
P. S.—Should you nade a bit of coin to return comfortably draw on me through W. F. & Co.
Barney.
Harding read next.
Virginia, August 13th, 1878.Dear Friend Miller:—Enclosed I send certificate of deposit for $100. The Club desire, unanimously, that you return without a moment's unnecessary delay. All agree that this is the best field for you. I will see the foreman in the morning, tell him you have been called away for a week and get him to hold your place for you. It was very wicked of you to go away. You can only get forgiveness by hurrying back.Lovingly,Harding.
Virginia, August 13th, 1878.
Dear Friend Miller:—Enclosed I send certificate of deposit for $100. The Club desire, unanimously, that you return without a moment's unnecessary delay. All agree that this is the best field for you. I will see the foreman in the morning, tell him you have been called away for a week and get him to hold your place for you. It was very wicked of you to go away. You can only get forgiveness by hurrying back.
Lovingly,
Harding.
Brewster's was the final letter, and was in these words:
Virginia City, Nevada. }8th month, 13th day, A. D. 1878. }Mr. Joseph Miller:Dear Sir and Friend:—I have this evening, with great pain, learned that you have left this place, and, moreover, have heard explained the reasons which prompted that course on your part. It would be a lack of candor on my part not to inform you that I sincerely deplore the wrong which you have done yourself and us. At the same time I believe that the real date of the wrong was when you permitted yourself first to engage in stock gambling. This world is framed on a foundation of perfect justice. The books of the Infinite always exactly balance. In the beginning it was decreed that man should have nothing except what he earned. It was meant that the world's accumulations of treasures—in money, in brain, in love, or in any other material that man holds dear—should, from day to day, and from year to year, represent simply the honest effort put forth to produce the treasure.Men have changed this in form. Some men get what they have not earned; but the rule is inexorable and cannot be changed. The books must balance.So when one man gets more than his share, the amount has to be made up by the toil of some other man or men. This last is what you have been called upon to do, and, naturally, you suffer.But I acquit you of any sinister intention toward us. So do we all. Your fault was when you first attempted to set aside God's law. You may recall what was said a few nights ago. "The decree which was read at Eden's gate is still in full force, and behind it, just as of old, flashes the flaming sword."We have thoughtfully considered your case. The unanimous conclusion is that you should at once return; that here among friends and acquaintances, with the heavy work which is going on, you have a far better opportunity to recover your lost ground than you possibly could among strangers.Moreover, you are familiar with this lode and the manner of working these mines. You are likewise accustomed to this climate, hence I conclude that your chances against accident or disease would be from fifteen to twenty per cent. in favor of your returning.In conclusion, I beg, without meaning any offense, but on the other hand, with a sincere desire to serve you, to say that I have a few hundred dollars on hand, enough perhaps to cover all your indebtedness here. If you would care to use it, it shall be yours,in hearty welcome, until such time as you can conveniently return it.I beg, sir, to subscribe myself your friend and servant,James Brewster.
Virginia City, Nevada. }
8th month, 13th day, A. D. 1878. }
Mr. Joseph Miller:
Dear Sir and Friend:—I have this evening, with great pain, learned that you have left this place, and, moreover, have heard explained the reasons which prompted that course on your part. It would be a lack of candor on my part not to inform you that I sincerely deplore the wrong which you have done yourself and us. At the same time I believe that the real date of the wrong was when you permitted yourself first to engage in stock gambling. This world is framed on a foundation of perfect justice. The books of the Infinite always exactly balance. In the beginning it was decreed that man should have nothing except what he earned. It was meant that the world's accumulations of treasures—in money, in brain, in love, or in any other material that man holds dear—should, from day to day, and from year to year, represent simply the honest effort put forth to produce the treasure.
Men have changed this in form. Some men get what they have not earned; but the rule is inexorable and cannot be changed. The books must balance.
So when one man gets more than his share, the amount has to be made up by the toil of some other man or men. This last is what you have been called upon to do, and, naturally, you suffer.
But I acquit you of any sinister intention toward us. So do we all. Your fault was when you first attempted to set aside God's law. You may recall what was said a few nights ago. "The decree which was read at Eden's gate is still in full force, and behind it, just as of old, flashes the flaming sword."
We have thoughtfully considered your case. The unanimous conclusion is that you should at once return; that here among friends and acquaintances, with the heavy work which is going on, you have a far better opportunity to recover your lost ground than you possibly could among strangers.
Moreover, you are familiar with this lode and the manner of working these mines. You are likewise accustomed to this climate, hence I conclude that your chances against accident or disease would be from fifteen to twenty per cent. in favor of your returning.
In conclusion, I beg, without meaning any offense, but on the other hand, with a sincere desire to serve you, to say that I have a few hundred dollars on hand, enough perhaps to cover all your indebtedness here. If you would care to use it, it shall be yours,in hearty welcome, until such time as you can conveniently return it.
I beg, sir, to subscribe myself your friend and servant,
James Brewster.
"God bless you, Brewster," said Harding impetuously.
"That is a boss lether," said Corrigan.
"I could not do better than that myself," was Ashley's comment.
"It is a diamond drill, and strikes a bonanza on the lower level," said Carlin.
"The formation is good, the pay chute large, the trend of the lode most regular, the grade of the ore splendid," said the Professor.
Wright said: "It is a good letter, sure."
"It reads as I fancy the photographs of the Angels of Mercy and Justice look when taken together," suggested Alex.
The Colonel remarked that the letter established the fact that Brewster was not so bad a man as he looked to be.
What should be sent to Miller was next discussed again. It was finally determined that all the letters should be sent except Harding's; that he should rewrite his, and instead of sending the certificate of deposit, should, like Corrigan, instruct Miller to draw on him if he needed money, and that any such drafts should be shared by the whole Club.
Then the money to pay the bills was raised among the old members of the Club, and placed in Carlin's hands to be paid out next day.
When all was finished a sort of heaviness came upon the company. There was an impression of sorrow upon them. They had been happy in their innocent enjoyment, but suddenly one who was a favorite, who was at heart the most generous one of the company, had failed them, and they brooded over the change.
At length Harding roused himself and said: "Miller must be sleeping somewhere down in the desert to-night. I wish I could call to him by telephone and bring him back."
"That reminds me," said Alex, "of something that I heard of yesterday. Down at the Sisters' Academy there is a telephone. There is a little miss attending that school, and every morning at a certain hour there is a ring at a certain house down town. The response goes back, 'Who is it?' and then the conversation goes on as follows: 'Is that you, papa?' 'Yes!' 'Good morning, papa!' 'Good morning, little one.' 'Is mamma there?' 'Yes.' 'Say good morning and give my love to mamma.' 'Yes.' 'Goodbye.' 'Good bye.'
"In the evening the same call is made; the same answer; and then from the still convent on noiseless pinions these words go out through the night, and pulsate on the father's ear: 'Good night, papa! Good night, mamma! a kiss for each of you!' and then the weird instrument materializes two kisses for the father's ear.
"He is a rough fellow, but he declares that since he commenced to receive those kisses, he knows that an answer to prayer is not impossible; that if that child's voice can come to him, stealing past the night patrol unheard, stealing in clear and distinct and like a benediction, while the winds and the city are roaring outside, there is nothing wonderful in believing that on the invisible wire of faith the same voice could send its music to the furthest star, and that the Great Father would bend His ear to listen."
"It is a pretty story," said Brewster. "The telephone is the most poetical of inventions. There is a metallic sound to the click of the telegraph, as though its chief use was to further the work and the worry of mankind. There is something like a sob to the perfecting press, as though saddened by the very thought of the abuses it must reform. There is a something about a steam engine which reminds one of the heavy respirations of the slave, toiling on his chain, but the telephone has a voice for but one ear at a time, and when it is a voice that we love its messages come like caresses.
"Not the least of its triumphs is that it has broken the silence of the convent.
"At last voices from the outer world thrill through the thick walls, and the patient women who are immured there hear the good nights and the kisses which by loving lips are sent away to loving homes. How their starved hearts must be thrilled by those messages! Sometimes, too, they must realize that the course of Nature cannot be changed; that the beginning of heaven is in the love which canopies true homes on earth. But with that thought there comes another, that from the Infinite, to palace, convent and humble homes alike, celestial wires, too fine for mortal eyes to discern, stretch down, and all alike are held in one sheltering hand. Sometime all these wires will work in accord, and the good-nights and the kisses in the souls of men will materialize into harmony and fill the world with music."
"That is, Brewster," said Corrigan, "supposin' the wires do not get crossed and the girls do not kiss the wrong papas."
"Suppose, Brewster," said the Colonel, "that at the final concert it shall be discovered that certain gentlemen have not settled their monthly rents for a long time, and their connection has been cut off?"
"There is no music where there are no ears to hear," said Wright. "What if some souls are born deaf and dumb?"
"Suppose," said the Professor, "that there are souls which have no ear for music?"
"I do not know," said Brewster, "but I fancy that the fairest final prizes may not be to the best musicians, but to those who made the sorest sacrifices in order to get a ticket to the concert."
With this the good nights were repeated.