Under these circumstances it may seem unaccountable that we should have waited nearly two weeks at San Francisco for our provisions to be unloaded, when, if our calculations were well grounded, we lost so much by the delay. The hope that every day would be the last, and the difficulty of unlearning all at once, that system of pennywise economy in which we had been educated, are the only explanation of this anything but a masterly inactivity.
In the mean time, through the agency of Captain Bill, whose good luck was signally manifest on this occasion, we made the acquaintance of a Mr. Primrose, said by some to be the most scientific miner in California. To a digger of any experience, the word scientific would have indicated nothing but the most besotted ignorance; but, to our Old-World notions, it sounded grand and imposing.
This scientific miner had a machine,—a scientific machine,—a machine such as is used in the gold mines of Virginia, and must of course be equally well adapted to this new territory. The machines had not yet arrived; but the scientific miner assured us that the vessel in which they had been shipped had sailed months before, and was now expected every day. In the meantime he would be happy to show us a drawing, from which we could form a tolerable idea of the mode of operation. We accordingly examined the drawing with great attention; we turned it upside down,—we looked at it straightforward and obliquely,—we looked at it with both eyes, and squinted at it after the most approved fashion with only one,—and finally came to the conclusion that it resembled nothing so much as a patent beehive, and of course must be a very scientific machine indeed.
"But will it work?" we asked the scientific miner.
The scientific miner, who was by the way a tall and rather comely personage, in a white neck-cloth, something between a clergyman and a broker, made no immediate reply, but taking from a table several hemispherical cakes of gold, looking like so many cakes of beeswax, and thereby confirming our notion of the patent beehive, placed them in our hands with a bland smile, and asked if that would do.
"Certainly," we replied, "that would do very well, if we could do it often enough."
"What do you say to once a week?" inquired the scientific miner.
Captain Bill looked at me, and I looked at Captain Bill, with a smile, half of satisfaction, half of incredulity, but made no answer.
The scientific miner noticed this telegraphic communication, and went on with mathematical gravity and precision.