Sunday..........September 9, 1883
FROM EASTERN NEVADA.
The Humboldt Duck Harvest—Specimen Sports—Good Shooting and Good Boating—Political Duck Shooting—Senatorial Propositions—"Last Spike" Humbuggery—Sweetly Blissful Dreams—Pine-Nut Aristocracy—Select Society Samplings.
[Correspondence of the Enterprise.]
AUSTIN, Nev., September 7, 1883.
The game law restrictions being removed on the first of this month, the chief sport of this section at the present is duck shooting. All along the Humboldt, hunters live in clover, and the wild ducks and geese are being slaughtered by millions. Of course, the Piutes join in the raid, and have their full share of the fun and feast. They have the advantage of the whites in the matter, financially considered, as it costs them nothing for transportation over the railroads, but they are not any more successful, and certainly do not have any more fun than their white fellow-citizens. It is only ninety-three miles from Austin to Battle Mountain and the nearest battle-grounds or duck-shooting placers on the Humboldt, and it only costs $9 to go and $9 to return, with no extra charge for game transportation on the return trip, consequently the profits of a hunting raid can be easily imagined. Hunters from other localities may not be as expert and successful as ours, but anyhow, when Starratt, Wright, Curtis and others of our standard Austin shotgun sports make a raid down to the Humboldt, the duck just come and fall dead around them, and accompany them home by the car-load, to the great delight of their interested friends. The other day Wright and Curtis went down to Battle Mountain, where they were joined by Dunn and other congenial sports, and went up the river some eight miles to sundry little lakes among the tules. There they merely waded out into the thickets bunches or groves of tall tules and blazed away at the numerous flocks of ducks incessantly passing over; keeping their dogs busy retrieving the fowls and piling them up. They took care to make their game fall as much as possible in open water, for the convenience of the dogs, and they certainly appeared to exercise considerable judgment and discretion, for all the ducks they brought home were young, fat, juicy and nice. The hunting syndicate aforesaid own a patent canvas boat, which is about the size of a canvas-back duck, when it is shut up, but when opened and spread out it is sixteen feet long, and will carry all hands, with their baggage, bedding grub and ammunition. Moreover, it cannot be upset easily and when it hits a snag or a rock, it merely doubles up a little and bounces back. A skillful dodge with that sort of boat is to blaze away at a big flock of ducks in the air, and then, by a few vigorous strokes of the paddle, catch all of the fowls in the boat as they come rattling down.
Talking about ducks, the Senatorial game to be played next year in this State seems to be made quite an object of interest by sundry political journalists, and perhaps unduly and prematurely so in some respects. It must be borne in mind, however, that this important proposition can hardly be too maturely and actively considered for the best interests of our young, yet much-abused and humbugged State. Most anybody will do for Governor, and even comparatively poor men, financially, have always filled the various State offices, creditably and well, but Nevada requires only first-class statesmen, of real ability and vigilant energy, to represent and attend to her vital interests in the halls of Congress. Money has notoriously ruled the Senatorial choice to a very appreciable extent thus far, and no doubt is very liable to do so some more. Everybody recognizes the fact that millionaire rule is scandalously discreditable, yet that scandalous fact still obtains, and successfully remains in the political manipulation of the State. It is high time for radical improvement, and a new deal in that respect. A man of real ability as a statesman and true managing energy, in working for the vital interests and general prosperity of the State, is none the worse for being a millionaire, and if millionaire Senators are to be the established rule, let's be a little more honest and critically just to ourselves than we have been heretofore. But wherefore is the millionaire a prerequisite proposition? It certainly is not if the Senator is selected from Eastern Nevada. Thus far our United States Senatorial representatives have exclusively been chosen from the western part of the State, therefore whatever of discredit has resulted in the representation must attach to that circumstance. We have men of honest ability and political rectitude in this section, whose brains are not all in their purses (no egotistic reference to myself intended), and it might be well to look in this direction in the coming new deal, bearing in mind that most of our best, most popular and efficient State officers have been selected from Eastern Nevada. Anyhow, if the Republican party would win the coming Senatorial race they must put their politically strongest and best horse on the track, whether from Eureka, Gold Hill or Candelaria.
The great fuss being made over the driving of the "last spike" on the Northern Pacific Railroad is merely on a par with the same humbug ceremony at other points heretofore, and doubtless to be followed up hereafter. Yet why crow any more over the last than over the first spike? In all other public works, except railroads and bridges, the commencement and not the completion is what is celebrated. The laying of the corner-stone is considered of more importance than the laying of the last brick. Moreover, those so-called "last spikes" are invariably a fraud. They are of silver or gold, and are never left driven. A hole is carefully bored, into which the precious spike is gently tapped with a silver hammer or fancy little sledge, by somebody who never knew a railroad spike from a carpet tack, amid the popping of champagne and other hifalutin remarks, and when the fuss is over, and the officials leave the spot they judiciously take that same last spike along with them. It would not pay to leave it in the hole. The real "last spike" is of iron, driven by a sweat-scented workman, and it stays there. The "last spike" of the Central and Union Pacific Railroad was made of Comstock bullion, by Ruhling & Co., assayers, of your city. It was purposely made some two or three inches too long, and the surplus was chopped up into little bits and given away among personal friends as cabinet souvenirs; the spike itself is probably preserved as a relic in the Central Pacific Railroad office at San Francisco. Had it been risked to the honest of the Ogdenites it would have been extracted and shoved up for whisky for the crowd in less than half an hour after the "last spike" driving ceremony was over.
Our mutual friend Spykens still cherishes his two-inch bonanza of $20,000 ore, although it does not pan out quite so big and rich as further sunk upon. He is the most hopeful man in the world, however, and his mind's eye reaches away down into the dim bowels of the earth and sees it widen and roll out tons upon tons of rich ore and resultant bullion bars. He sees the lovely ruby silver in long red streaks and pockets away down there between the pinching, hard-hearted granite walls, and he is building many castles in the air from his prospective bullion bricks. He even looks ahead to the time when he shall marry a schoolmarm and have all his children born with a good education. Ah, well, so it goes.
The choicest, sweetest dream in life
Are always dreamed awake.
The pine-nut season is now in full feather, and the dusky Piute, lousy Shoshone and their "se-quaws" and other relatives have largely hied them away to the shady, green groves, there to gather the esculently excellent and long-admired pine-nut. This small, but numerous, nut has always constituted a staple article of food with the aboriginal inhabitants of Nevada. The effect is, at this season of the year, that the Indians are particularly independent, and don't care whether the white man's domestic stove-wood is left properly sawed and split, or his family washing done in time or not. The lordly Piute Chieftan, with eleven sacks of pine-nuts piled up in his campoodie, feels himself the financial equal of John Mackay, and from now until the cold Winter weather and solid snow and ice sets in, there is no implicit reliance to be placed upon Piute contracts for work or domestic service. Anyhow, they won't allow you to sass them for the next two or three months. But from about the middle of December, and all the long, cold Winter, while chances near the stove, and odds and ends of white folks' grub, served up hot, are coveted by them, your Indian friends, acquaintances and distant relatives are always and really too willing to cultivate your most intimate acquaintance.
Chung Wah, the one-eyed Chinaman down near the brewery, has sold out his hog ranch and will leave on the next steamer for China. He has made numerous friends during his twenty years' residence here, etc. He has been a constant reader of the San Francisco society papers for years, although they have never hardly even mentioned him
Stillwater Thompson's youngest daughter is getting along well with her lessons in washing, and ably represents her mother in the regular Monday washing contract, while family are off after pine-nuts.
Broken-Nosed Charley and Jerry Kelly have subsided into obscurity since Dave Dunlap became Sheriff, and have gone to the Springs to recuperate.
Jo Moss thinks of buying a new hoss.
Weather clear and auspiciously suspicious, but liable to change.
Wednesday..........September 19, 1883
FROM EASTERN NEVADA.
Another Odious Stamp Act—Legislative Propositions—Comstock Miners in Eastern Nevada—The Fragrant Sanitary Bug— Barberous Treatment—Society Notes, Etc.
[Correspondence of the Enterprise.]
AUSTIN, Nev. September 14, 1883
The new postage stamp law goes into effect on the 1st of next month, substituting two cent stamps, letter postage, for the regular three centers, so long in vogue. This practically disfranchises and nullifies the three cent stamps after that date, as by some strange oversight, when the new stamp law was passed, no provision was made for officially redeeming the retiring three cent stamps. There will, consequently, be some millions of dollars worth of these unfortunate stamps rendered worthless in Austin—and elsewhere throughout the United States—on that date. The effect is that everybody is working hard writing letters and getting well ahead on correspondence, in order to use up their remaining stamps so as not to have any left on hand when the fatal day arrives. Even the bar-keepers now hesitate to receive them for drinks, although they know, of course, that the next Congress will promptly correct the trouble and provide equitable redemption for the retired stamps.
The premature agitation of the Senatorial question also induces legislative speculations and prognostications. It is generally admitted that the last Legislature did not amount to much, and was to be commended for its harmlessness more than anything else, yet it being a sort of off-year in politics, so to speak, and an unimportant session, but little was expected from it. But not so with the next Legislature. It has to elect a United States Senator, to succeed Hon. J. P. Jones, which is a very responsible circumstance of itself. Primarily and fundamentally both leading political parties will make civil or official service reform and State administration economy the leading and most important feature in the contest. We have too many State officials and too many high salaries for the people to support and pay in the present condition of the State finances and resources. And so, too, with county offices and county expenses. Anything that can be done to reduce the burden of the galled and wearied taxpayers must be done, and, as before remarked, both political parties will bear this in mind, and make political capital for themselves accordingly. That's what the people think in this section, and Eastern Nevada proposes taking a lively and effective interest in the coming political campaign.
In a district like this, noted for its numerous small but rich ore veins, new and valuable strikes are naturally and frequently made known to the public, but many a nice little pocket is struck in the regular working of the mines, which are quietly worked and much acceptable coin realized therefrom without general public knowledge. Men working on "days pay" have their regular bonanza once a month, when pay day comes, but there are scores of enterprising "tributers" who cannot be hired to work for anybody but themselves. Many of these work steadily along, month after month, without realizing a cent, and dependent upon the Manhattan Company for assistance—indeed many have thus worked hopefully for years. But sooner or later they are liable to meet with the long-looked for "good time coming." This is best demonstrated, and the lucky ones indicated, by their apparent increase in financial prosperity, trips to California, the East, or to the old country. Old abandoned workings of past years are occasionally revived into practical activity under new auspices and in most instances with excellent success. Thus it was with the abandoned workings of the Plymouth shaft two or three years ago. Half a dozen well known Comstock miners took it in hand and now have lot of money. Recently a party of six, mostly former Comstock miners took a lease of the Great Eastern, which was abandoned three years ago on account of too much water, at the depth of 300 feet. They have got the water all out, and are working night and day, hoisting by means of a whim horse power arrangement. They have already met with some nice little "kidneys" of rich ore, and feel prosperous, with a very hopeful future before them. May they strike it big. The mines generally are yielding finely and looking well, there being very much more ore in sight than there was last year at this time, and everything in better shape for working. The mill is certainly having an extraordinarily long run, which bids fair to hold out for several months longer yet.
After a three months' steady, unvarying run of ninety degrees in the shade, the weather is shading off to something cooler. Austin never was healthier than during the present season. The town is very judiciously located on a series of gentle mountain slopes, the water supply is excellent, and so also is the whisky. In most parts of the town people run their slops wherever it comes handiest, regardless of all sewer arrangements. This system or lack of system might prove detrimental to the public health, were it not for a peculiar scavenger bug that generously comes to the rescue. This enterprising bug is about the size of a dried prune, has pitchfork horns, stiff, wiry legs, petrified charcoal back, no tail and an atrocious breath. He rushes about slowly, absorbing all the domestic and foreign stinks and sewage impurities, carefully digesting and retaining the same within his internal economy, and thus rendering Austin all the more healthy. He crawls about houses, sociably and searchingly, and is quiet and inoffensive unless you disturb or injure him, when you will regret it forthwith, for he just can deliberately outstink anything else in the wide world. The odor of the skunk is simply bouquet fragrance in comparison. The thrifty housewife, as well as the old pioneer, greatly admire and respect this popular bug and appreciate his sanitary qualities, as a high-flavored disinfectant.
Our friend Spykens has received a note from Professor Snider, at Las Angeles, accompanied with a package of dried orange peel, and a bottle of hair restorative frim Mrs. S. The Professor says his health has not improved since marrying and leaving Austin, but Mrs. Snider, formerly the Widow McWinzle, never was healthier. The cruel, revengeful sarcasm of the widow is appreciated in view of the circumstance of Spykens having become bald-headed since being in Eastern Nevada. One day, out at Tuscarora, he was being shaved, and unguardedly allowed the barber to shampoo him. What sort of infernal mill chemicals that barber used in the process he does not know, but, anyhow, the next day most of his back hair fell off in spots, and directly he had to get him a wig to keep his head worm. In view of his having to dodge the widow's ardent matrimonial attempts upon him so lively when here, he looks upon it as live-coal cruelty on her part, sending him this bottle of hair restorative. She evidently cherishes and nourishes her revenges.
When the neighbors come in to borrow Dr. Green's saw-buck now, he astonishes by his affable cordiality. "Go take it," blandly remarks he, with a friendly wave of his hand. "You’ll fid it out in the back yard." And they do find it, and they find it's a new one, made of timbers eight inches square, set seven feet into the solid ground, and they don't get away with it, but go home over the back fence.
I received a letter yesterday from Colonel U. E. Allen, formerly of your city, and a member of the Legislature. He is now high chief purveyor of the Scoville House, the chief hotel of Waterbury, Connecticut, prosperous and happy, and sends his "everlasting blessing" to all his numerous friends in Nevada, promising to deal with them kindly should they happen to come his way. He says State Controller Hallock is in that section.
The young ladies of Austin shyly accuse their festive bachelor friend, Faddleton, of wearing a wig, when he only dyes his hair. He should rub down nearer to the roots. Perhaps he thinks he humbugs everybody but himself. But he don't. Quit it. In the lexicon of youth, verging into gray-haired maturity, never say dye.
Tom Gundry has got him a new gun. It is double-barreled, came all the way from Birmingham, England, and cost "thirty pound" there. It is the finest gun in the State, but out of place. He couldn't hit the Comstock ledge with it at forty yards.
Sunday..........September 23, 1883
FROM EASTERN NEVADA.
Passed Trouble—Reese River Flour and Wheat—Barley—A Chapter on Potatoes—Incipient Talent Developing—Piute Tribal Relations and Relatives—Where George Washington Should Have Been Born and Brought Up—Society Notes and Comments.
[Correspondence of the Enterprise.]
AUSTIN, Nev., September 21, 1883.
The regular annual cloudburst having failed to put in its appearance, as usual, and the period of feverish expectancy having passed completely without even a slight demonstration in that respect, our citizens are cooling down with the cooler weather to their regular mutton and potatoes. The old stiffs confess their disappointment at the non-repetition of the disaster of August, '78, but now prognosticatingly and hopefully look forward to next year for proper vindication.
REESE RIVER FLOUR.
The new flouring mill, down at Ledlie, some half dozen miles from here, on the banks of the raging Reese, proves to be the complete success that it was anticipated to be, and has turned out numerous sacks of most excellent flour, which finds very ready sale in Austin, as it should. Hereafter, wheat will doubtless be made the principal grain crop, in order to keep that mill in profitable work. The wheat produced in this section is generally plump, heavy and good, with a fair average yield per acre, and very little more cost in raising than in many sections of our more favored sister State, California. Many a poor farmer in the Golden State is happy if he is lucky enough to get half as much for his wheat as our farmers do. By judicious management of the wheat production and in selling the flour a trifle cheaper than other brands can be transported from California and elsewhere over the railroads, our grain-producing farmers should control their own market, and Reese River flour, from its superior excellence alone, find ready sale in outside localities.
Barley is a hardier, and, therefore, more common crop, but the market for it being limited, remunerative prices, or even sale for it, cannot always be obtained. Potatoes, however, are always in order and all right so far as a market is concerned. That honest old vegetable is always welcome to the population of Austin. Everybody buys potatoes, regardless of price, even the very earliest and most unwholesomely unripe being eagerly snapped up at a bit a pound. But now the ranchers are bringing them in from all sides, and they are not only cheap—two cents by the sack—but of the highest order of merit, large, slick and mealy. The potato crop rarely or never failing in suitable localities, and the yield being plentiful, the triumphant spud rancher is the bonanza man from the rural suburbs. It is not necessary to be an Irishman to properly appreciate a good potato, and especially those raised in this section. That royal old chief of the vegetable kingdom comes forth from the pot in steamy, fragrant glory, his clean, brown vest gently parting and rolling back its collar, as he proudly throws out his white, fleecy breast to your enraptures gaze. How one's mouth waters as the anticipations of a little salt and good sweet butter come in connection therewith, and how eagerly and beneficially that welcome combination is sought and judiciously put into practical effect. Argus-eyed, smooth-faced and mealy-mouthed though he be, none can ever accuse the potato of being hypocritical. He has frequently been used as pelting demonstration of popular reproof to unworthy actors or lecturers on the stage, but has never run for office or from an officer. There's nutriment in him; he shows his noble qualities in his honest face, and is, therefore, deservedly popular and appreciatively admired. (How's that for a spud eulogy?)
Eastern Nevada perhaps produces no smarter or worse specimen boys and girls than the older and reputably more sinful western portion of the State, and perhaps Austin is no criterion in that respect; but it was here that Emma Nevada spent her youthful culminating days, with her parents, and from Austin she went forth to unprecedented success in the European world of operatic harmony. And we have boys of tender years and a great capacity who may yet astonish the world as high-toned, first-class stage robber, burglars or petty larceny thieves. They are sent to school, get there sometimes, smoke cigarettes, swear like young troopers, steal, lie and possess other qualifications. One not very bright looking little chap, with a sharp nose, thin face and pensive eye, will operate as a petty larceny thief, work his way up to high-toned burglary, and graduate in the State Prison. Another more stalwart youth will in due time step out on the road as a resolute and successful stage robber. Not many seem cut out for murderers, yet may have undeveloped and unexpected talents in that line and make their mark, to the surprise of all who know them best. Parents, here or in other localities, should be a little more vigilant, and see that their boys go to school, or are properly kept disciplined or judiciously employed.
The Piutes about Austin are all healthy, prosperous, and thrive and increase, and have more children and tribal relations than anybody. There are many good looking women and young girls among them, and the men are generally tall, well-built fellows. They are around among the whites a great deal, yet do not seem to adopt many of the vices of the pale-face very readily. Some of them swear and drink whisky pretty well, and in due time may become as bad as the whites. How to properly care for, and judiciously rule and manage these wards of the nation, and original occupants of the country, has always been a perplexing domestic and judicial problem. They are allowed to run their own affairs, manage themselves, and preserve their tribal relations to a very considerable extent, even in the matter of crime committed among themselves. They are literally native Americans, naturally citizens, yet were they legally held to be citizens, under the law they should be allowed full liberty in the "pursuit of happiness," even to getting drunk, in which case it could be no legal crime to sell them whisky. Self-interest and self-defense, however, suggests that no Indians should be allowed unrestricted rights and privileges, any more than should thousands of irresponsible, low-trash whites. Lo is low enough generally, without making him any lower. Over in California his "tribal relations" have become mixed with the whites to such an extent that the aboriginal race has become nearly run out. All judicial problems in that respect are rapidly solving themselves.
THE HOME OF TRUTH.
One grand feature of Austin is prevalent and universal truthfulness. Old residents and pioneers do not know how to lie, and even tough immigrants from the Comstock and elsewhere gradually lose all their natural abilities in that line, through a sympathetic leaching process, as it were, and become purified to the regular prevailing standard. Mr. Dadd, who came here with old Reese, and was the first to subside into this local stratum of chronic truthfulness, has not been able to tell a lie for twenty years. An enthusiastic missionary, who several years ago desired to write a book on this subject, wanted to get Mr. Dadd's portrait for a front page illustration, but his native modesty would not allow him to be thus made a second George Washington. A good square liar might prove a refreshing variety in Austin, and perhaps do well here, if he could only hold out.
A committee of gentlemen from Reno have just arrived for the purpose of securing a few million of those fragrant black sanitary bugs, mentioned in my last letter. Reno is bound to outhealth Carson if those all-stink-absorbing beetles can do it.
Yesterday old Swipes sat on a bar-room box gazing wistfully at a livery stable horse hitched on the other side of the street. "What a happy animal," said he, soliloquizingly, "always good for the drinks; always got a bit in his mouth."
Spykens has got over being nervous at having to spend two minutes every night winding up that Waterbury watch of his before going to bed. While he does it he now says the Lord's Prayer, Now I Lay Me, and the Ten Commandments, and is fast becoming of a deeply religious turn of mind. He can't do without it, and commends them to preachers, missionaries and all others who wish to be good and do good. The years of a man's life thus wound away he considers as so many treasures laid up in Heaven for future reference and benefits.
Watermelons are plenty and cheap, and so is paregoric at the drug stores. The stomach of the juvenile Piute can stand off watermelon rind, however, without any artificial assistance.
Stox quiet; politix ditto. ALF DOTEN
Sunday..........October 21, 1883
FROM EASTERN NEVADA.
Houses in Austin—About Telegrams—The Nevada Cadetship—Senatorial Propositions and Speculations—Mines and Mining Propositions—A Grasping Miner—The Comstock Chiefa—Earthquakes—Frank Stewart's Theory—Some Society Notes and Propositions.
[Correspondence of the Enterprise.]
AUSTIN, Nev., October 19, 1883.
In my last letter, I wrote that houses are plenty in Austin, but they are all occupied, and the intelligent printer made "they are not occupied." He must be killed. Every house, little or big, is occupied to its fullest extent, even to dugouts in the hillsides, and more are being built by a few enterprising individuals who have faith, or who have to build or stay out of doors. A singular feature in Austin architecture consists in the almost total absence of any up-stairs accommodations. The usual residence is a low-roofed, very much spread out affair, with additional rooms built on as the family situation, or increase, may demand; but though the roof may cover half an acre, it never seems to occur to the builder thereof that it costs no more to roof two or three stories than one. The space between the rafters is rarely utilized by an upper floor. There is not a dozen two story houses in the place. If we were a little nearer the Comstock we might utilize a few dozen of your vacant houses by transferring them to Austin, but railroad transportation is too costly—about five cents a pound.
The recent decision of the United States Supreme Court, declaring the Civil Rights Act unconstitutional, is the most important dispatch which has come over the wires since the Garfield assassination episode. The Reveille had it in full, but did not seem to appreciate it; anyhow it got off a chronic growl, speaking of it as "a great, dry report of a Supreme Court decision," and expressing its preference for something about the coal miners' strike in Pennsylvania, or something of that sort. The Reveille should publish the telegrams as received, without comments. Yet fresh telegrams cost money, and the Reveille has the latest and best. The people of Austin should appreciate this fact, and liberally support their local paper. "Money makes the mare go," and coin pays for telegrams. Readers of the latest and best telegrams from all parts of the world should be willing to pay for them.
It is a very appreciable fact that most of the people of Nevada are glad that General Connor's son failed to pass examination for the cadetship from this State. That he was an inch too short in stature is assigned as the reason of his failure, yet his father is an old experienced military man, and most assuredly should have been conversant with all the requirements and not subject the boy to such a detrimental failure. There has been too much favoritism in this matter shown in times past. Young men who were really not competent, either mentally or physically, have been pushed forward for the position, with the hope of their parents and personal friends that they would pass and after months of careful "coaching" they have been sent on to Washington, there to undergo the impartial, rigid examination exposing their bed-rock, so to speak, and sent home unhappy. For the credit of Nevada it is to be hoped that no more experimental favoritism may be used hereafter in this very important matter. We have a smart boy or two in Austin, other localities in the State can say the same, and we know there are quite a number of young men on the Comstock eligible for the position. The only straightforward, politic and correct way is to let them all have a chance in a competitive preliminary examination and thus send our smartest and best boys. If they fail then it will be our fault and not so much theirs. The failure of young Connor leaves the position open to competition, so says Congressman Cassidy, therefore let our best boy go in and win.
The Reveille still persists in trying to victimize Daggett, and sacrificingly cremate him on the Senatorial altar. Bah! From the poop deck of the gallant ship with his fair bride on board, the festive and happy Daggett looks back over the stern, places his right thumb in side contact with his nose, and significantly twiddles his fingers Nevadawards as he gently remarks: "No, you don't; not for Rollin. A rolling stone gathers no moss in the political field, and I'm just rollin' over the seas to my Hawaiian campoody, beneath the wild banana tree, where the voracious politicians cease from troubling and the weary candidate finds rest. Ta, ta! call me not back. As the Dutch girl said 'I's been fooled dat way before!' " Hon M. J. Farrell, or some other equally competent gentleman from Eastern Nevada, would fill the bill for Congressman, but where is the man to succeed Jones as Senator? Sharon does not care to try it again and Mackay is no political aspirant. Most of the prominent men of the western part of the State have left for California and other eligible localities, and Jones seems left to try and be his own successor, if he desires so to do. If being a poor man is any qualification, Jones is all right in that respect. When he was in bonanza he scattered his millions loose among the people, and now he doubtless wishes some of it back for present necessities. But Jones has not signified his wish to be considered in the Senatorial field again, and perhaps would rather let somebody else have the honor. In which case who is the coming man? Not Daggett, for he has gone, and does not wish to come some more, at least not for that proposition.
All over the State the surface workings of the discovered mines seem to be pretty well worked out, yet this can hardly be said of the mines of Austin. They are not so deep by over 2,000 feet as yours of the Comstock, mere surface scratching in comparison, yet they are at the present time looking just as well as ever, to say the least, and bid fair to hold out the same to an indefinite depth. Perhaps they may improve, and eventually the small, rich "razor blade" veins lead to that mythical "mother lode" which has always been predictively gazed at in the dreams of the old Reese River pioneers. This, however, is simply a matter for future reference. But at present we of Eastern Nevada are all interestedly and hopefully watching Comstock propositions, for it is an established principle in the Nevada mining lexicon that the fortunes or misfortunes of the Comstock very influentially affect the entire State. It is pleasant to us to learn that John Mackay is standing in, and in fact and reality back from Paris and meandering through the lower levels, in his sweaty gray woolen shirt as of old, before he was rich enough to build a national telegraph or financially help out all his old friends. It is pleasant to read that he is pleased with the present prospects developed in those lower levels and believes in rich future possibilities at still greater depths, and it is a source of encouragement that he, Fair, Sharon and others of the old mining chiefs do not abandon the old Comstock by any means, but are still expending their hundreds of thousands in the development of its future possibilities. Perhaps it is the presence of John Mackay in the State that is making the mines of Eureka and elsewhere in this section look better. Anyhow, we are all pleased to know that he is in his native sagebrush, so to speak, and comfortingly near us. The suit of Thomas Kehoe against Thomas Breen was concluded in the district Court here on Tuesday. Kehoe worked for years with Breen, and is, in fact, said to have been the discoverer of the mine, which is two or three miles northerly from here, in the edge of Reese River Valley. They made a good living from the occasional ore crushings, dividing equally; but when Breen sold out the mine a few months ago for $20,000 he neglected to recognize Kehoe as partner and entitled to half. He also refused Kehoe's offer to settle for $2,000, and the jury decides that he must come to an equal divvy of $10,000. So much for trying to hog the whole. It is said Breen will appeal.
The recent severe earthquakes in California and along the Pacific Coast shake the logic out of Frank Stewart's theory, that the completion of the railroad across the continent would put a stopper on future operations of the kind by passing off the electric current eastward, over or through the iron rails. Now we have three overland railroads completed, yet the earthquakes still continue in full force and effect. But they are no great shakes, anyhow.
A hopeful and willing young lady said the other day that she wondered why so many eligible young men as there are in Austin could get along without marrying. She felt disgusted and exasperated at the fewness of marriages and said the matrimonial condition was really a measure of economy if the young men could only be induced to view it in that light. She is correct. Most of those who starve to death, die from dissipation, poverty or neglect, or who, despairingly, commit suicide, are single men. Many a young fellow, destined to a drunkard's or a suicide's grave, has avoided both by getting married and becoming the father of eleven children.
Dick Mitchell, brother to Johnny Mitchell, formerly foreman in the Justice mine, who left here with his wife and children to visit his old home and relatives in Redruth parish, Cornwall, last May, returned with them all right a day or two ago. They had a glorious good time, saw lots of comfortable and pleasant arrangements, and were satisfied to return to Austin, where they have plenty of friends, and can get along prosperously and well.
The gentlemen Piutes all wear three linen dusters apiece now, on account of the increased coldness of the weather. The lady Piutes also wear an extra blanket.
Ducks and geese are getting quite plenty in market; that is to say, the Piute warriors are bringing them in by the sackful and peddling them out at a dollar a pair for ducks, and a dollar for a goose. Great expectations are also formed of the result of the raid of our chief Austin hunters who went down to the Humboldt a few days ago. ALF. DOTEN.
Sunday..........November 4, 1883
FROM EASTERN NEVADA.
Good Telegraphic Reports—County Treasury Robberies—How to Prevent Them—The Manhattan Mill and Austin Mines—A Long Milling Run and a Prosperous Outlook—How People Go and Come, and How They Feel About It—Outside Husks—Society and Senatorial Notes.
[Correspondence of the Enterprise.]
AUSTIN, Nev., November 2, 1883.
The Reveille now has just as good telegraphic dispatches as any other paper on the Pacific Coast, in proportion to its size and field. They are newsy, fresh, varied, and, during the last day or two, decidedly interesting, especially to former Comstockers. To an old resident of that section, like myself, familiar with the ins and outs of everything and everybody, the latest and most important intelligence from the big bonanza croppings and shells is like turtle soup with the meat and gravy of the Eastern dispatches. Then, too, we eagerly look for the ENTERPRISE, with its supplementary details, full accounts, and latest dispatches from all parts of the world, only one day behind the local lightning.
THAT TREASURY ROBBERY.
It does seem strange, and does not look well for Storey county, with her treasury in a big brick building, right in the heart of the biggest town or city in the State, to have that treasury vault systematically robbed almost year after year. Treasurer Carrick robbed it, and said he did so because he required coin to put up as "more mud" in his little stock speculations, etc. He was sent to State Prison a little while, and then rejoined his wife and family and emigrated to where his grape-vine twineth and his fig tree flourisheth, in a more genial region, where stocks trouble not and the lesson he learned at the expense of Storey county will do him a heap of good. But this last robbery is a stunner. How did those bold, burglarious brigands know that the time-lock on the safe was defective? Why did they so confidently thus order Treasurer Nevin: "You open the door of the vault and take the combination off the safe, and we will chance the time-lock?" Well, these enterprising robbers rubbed past the Sheriff's office and jail, just across the entry, and sacked the Treasury of over $8,000, leaving poor Nevin locked up in the safe in place of the gold and silver. It took longer to get him out of that than it did to steal the money and get away with it. Perhaps, however, Nevin was mistaken in his estimate of the amount of coin in the vault. Anyhow, the moral to be pointed in this and sundry other recent cases is somewhat as follows: County Treasurers are too much exposed. They should not be compelled to work in their offices after sunset. They should never be allowed to have over six-bits in the safe at any one time. The time-locks should be perfect. The safe or vault should be abolished, for it is a costly delusion and an infernal humbug. Nevin's bondsmen are responsible only for his personal honesty and efficiency while in office, therefore the misfortune of this bold robbery necessarily has to fall upon the overburdened taxpayers of Storey County.
A PROSPEROUS RUN.
The Manhattan mill, which does all the ore grinding and bullion brick production for this mining district, commenced its present long-continued run on the 28th of October, 1882, consequently has been running over a year without having to stop from lack of ore. At one time last Summer it shut down about three weeks for absolutely necessary repairs, and at a few other times during the year requisite repairs have caused stoppages of a day or two, but its general rate of ore reduction has been about 600 tons per month on the average, the year's run yielding considerably over a million dollars. But the best part of the proposition lies in the fact that the mines themselves are looking and promising better even than they did a year ago, with more ore in sight and better facilities for extraction. These mines are very systematically managed, under the control of the Manhattan Company, and most certainly are being worked for all they are worth, due attention being always given to prospecting and exploring ahead for new deposits, while the present ores are being worked out. Thus a vast amount of costly dead work is constantly being done, but it pays first rate in the end, and although no dividends are declared, no assessments have to be levied, which is a very comfortable circumstance. Anyhow, the Manhattan Company flourishes and prospers well, and supports a very flourishing community.
John Booth, proprietor of the Reveille, occasionally takes a trip out in the country, and has just returned from one to Idaho, Salt Lake, etc. He had a pretty good time, and was well treated, but found no place like home, even in the City of the Saints, consequently comes back more in love with Austin than ever. As to that matter, scores of old residents find their way back feeling the same way, as has been, and still is, the experience of numerous old Comstockers. They pack up and leave, shaking the dust off their heels, saying, "Good bye, old played out chicken camp," and they go away up in Washington Territory, or some similar seaport, dreaming of the glorious things they have read of and been told about. They all go away hilariously hopeful, and many are never able to get back; yet frequently some return like Prodigal sons, tired of big trout, salmon, fat grouse, quail on toast, and all that sort of fancy husks, and are delighted to get Austin horn steaks and sausage once more. Thus, too, they come back even from "the old country," remembering better prosperity and easier times here than they find abroad. People with plenty of money, however, may find London, Paris, San Francisco, or other outside localities preferable to Austin in some respects.
The ball of the Austin National Guard night before last, was the chief fantastic toe event of the season. International Hall was crowded all night with the happiest, most festive assemblage in the world, and the consequent wealth flowing into the treasury of the company places it on a bonanza foundation. They will be able to afford more ample coat-tails for dress parade.
Mr. Dadd thinks Sharon is having a Hill of a time in his present matrimonial blackmailing episode, in fact, too much up hill for a little man. But such seems to be the penalty of affluence on the Pacific Coast; look at Baldwin, Mackay, Fair and others for example. Mr. Dadd most earnestly desires to avoid getting rich. He is poor, but proud and comfortably happy and wishes to remain so. Pride and poverty is said to have been the downfall of old Cole's dog.
Surprise parties are an especial feature in Austin society notions, and are well followed up, occurring frequently, or as often as occasion offers. They are always agreeable and nobody is ever totally surprised. Balls and dances are frequent and always well attended, and the shrewdest bean is he who gets a chance to go home with a girl that somebody else brought to the dance.
If Senator Jones cannot be induced to try again to succeed himself, perhaps Hon. C. C. Stevenson, of Gold Hill, might be the man. He has been suggested, and is not only a man of known ability and legislative experience, but also is very influential, with a good, square, politically-consistent record. He is not as good a talker as Jones, but he is always practical, and if he would work as hard and do as well for his constituents and the State as he has always done for himself, he could not fail to give perfect satisfaction. But cannot Carson or Reno put up somebody to succeed Jones? Have they no men of similar ability? There is plenty of time, however, to study over and discuss this important matter. ALF DOTEN.