The “Flyaway” specimen I sent you, (taken by myself from DeKay's shaft, 300 feet from where we are going to sink) cannot be called “choice,” exactly—say something above medium, to be on the safe side. But I have seen exceedingly choice chunks from that shaft. My intention at first in sending the Antelope specimen was that you might see that it resembles the Monitor—but, come to think, a man can tell absolutely nothing about that without seeing both ledges themselves. I tried to break a handsome chunk from a huge piece of my darling Monitor which we brought from the croppings yesterday, but it all splintered up, and I send you the scraps. I call that “choice”—any d—-d fool would. Don't ask if it has been assayed, for it hasn't. It don't need it. It is amply able to speak for itself. It is six feet wide on top, and traversed through and through with veins whose color proclaims their worth. What the devil does a man want with any more feet when he owns in the Flyaway and the invincible bomb-proof Monitor?
If I had anything more to say I have forgotten what it was, unless, perhaps, that I want a sum of money—anywhere from $20 to $150, as soon as possible.
Raish sends regards. He or I, one will drop a line to the “Age” occasionally. I suppose you saw my letters in the “Enterprise.”
Yr. BRO,
SAM
P. S. I suppose Pamela never will regain her health, but she could improve it by coming to California—provided the trip didn't kill her.
You see Bixby is on the flag-ship. He always was the best pilot on the Mississippi, and deserves his “posish.” They have done a reckless thing, though, in putting Sam Bowen on the “Swan”—for if a bomb-shell happens to come his way, he will infallibly jump overboard.
Send me another package of those envelopes, per Bagley's coat pocket.
We see how anxious he was for his brother to make a good official
showing. If a niggardly Government refused to provide decent
quarters—no matter; the miners, with gold pouring in, would
themselves pay for a suite “superbly carpeted,” and all kept in
order by “two likely contrabands”—that is to say, negroes. Samuel
Clemens in those days believed in expansion and impressive
surroundings. His brother, though also mining mad, was rather
inclined to be penny wise in the matter of office luxury—not a bad
idea, as it turned out.
Orion, by the way, was acquiring “feet” on his own account, and in
one instance, at least, seems to have won his brother's
commendation.
The 'Enterprise' letters mentioned we shall presently hear of again.
To Orion Clemens, in Carson City: