mountains, got acquainted with the operator, and sat in the office day
after day, smoking his pipe, complaining that his team was fagged out and
unable to travel–and meantime listening to the dispatches as they passed
clicking through the machine from Virginia. Finally the private dispatch
announcing the result of the lawsuit sped over the wires, and as soon as
he heard it he telegraphed his friend in San Francisco:
“Am tired waiting. Shall sell the team and go home.”
It was the signal agreed upon. The word “waiting” left out, would have
signified that the suit had gone the other way.
The mock teamster’s friend picked up a deal of the mining stock, at low
figures, before the news became public, and a fortune was the result.
For a long time after one of the great Virginia mines had been
incorporated, about fifty feet of the original location were still in the
hands of a man who had never signed the incorporation papers. The stock
became very valuable, and every effort was made to find this man, but he
had disappeared. Once it was heard that he was in New York, and one or
two speculators went east but failed to find him. Once the news came
that he was in the Bermudas, and straightway a speculator or two hurried
east and sailed for Bermuda–but he was not there. Finally he was heard
of in Mexico, and a friend of his, a bar-keeper on a salary, scraped
together a little money and sought him out, bought his “feet” for a
hundred dollars, returned and sold the property for $75,000.
But why go on? The traditions of Silverland are filled with instances
like these, and I would never get through enumerating them were I to
attempt do it. I only desired to give, the reader an idea of a
peculiarity of the “flush times” which I could not present so strikingly
in any other way, and which some mention of was necessary to a realizing
comprehension of the time and the country.
I was personally acquainted with the majority of the nabobs I have
referred to, and so, for old acquaintance sake, I have shifted their
occupations and experiences around in such a way as to keep the Pacific
public from recognizing these once notorious men. No longer notorious,
for the majority of them have drifted back into poverty and obscurity
again.
In Nevada there used to be current the story of an adventure of two of
her nabobs, which may or may not have occurred. I give it for what it is
worth:
Col. Jim had seen somewhat of the world, and knew more or less of its
ways; but Col. Jack was from the back settlements of the States, had led
a life of arduous toil, and had never seen a city. These two, blessed
with sudden wealth, projected a visit to New York,–Col. Jack to see the
sights, and Col. Jim to guard his unsophistication from misfortune. They
reached San Francisco in the night, and sailed in the morning. Arrived
in New York, Col. Jack said:
“I’ve heard tell of carriages all my life, and now I mean to have a ride
in one; I don’t care what it costs. Come along.”
They stepped out on the sidewalk, and Col. Jim called a stylish barouche.
But Col. Jack said:
“No, sir! None of your cheap-John turn-outs for me. I’m here to have a
good time, and money ain’t any object. I mean to have the nobbiest rig
that’s going. Now here comes the very trick. Stop that yaller one with
the pictures on it–don’t you fret–I’ll stand all the expenses myself.”
So Col. Jim stopped an empty omnibus, and they got in. Said Col. Jack:
“Ain’t it gay, though? Oh, no, I reckon not! Cushions, and windows, and
pictures, till you can’t rest. What would the boys say if they could see
us cutting a swell like this in New York? By George, I wish they could
see us.”
Then he put his head out of the window, and shouted to the driver:
“Say, Johnny, this suits me!–suits yours truly, you bet, you! I want
this shebang all day. I’m on it, old man! Let ’em out! Make ’em go!