On my arrival in New York, I was thunderstruck at seeing a gilded sign stuck up on the Merchants' Exchange: "—— Mining Company Office." Not over-troubled by modesty, I ventured in, and inquired if that machinery had been sent out. I was requested to be seated in a fine cushioned chair. As I love entertainment, I sat down, and took a survey of the desks, the Brussels carpet, the ledgers, and the piles of pamphlets, which clearly demonstrated that a man would get his money back many times over before he paid it in. It seemed strange how all this could he supported on the supposed future earnings of a hole in the ground. The Board of Directors assembled. Many of them, I was assured, were the leading men of New York, and things went off with all solemnity. When all was ready, an immense piece of the richest gold quartz was taken from a desk, such as used to be sold at good prices in San Francisco for this very purpose. But not a man in that august assembly dreamed of the manner in which such things are gotten up, except perhaps the said agent sent out to get machinery, but now figuring as a director. I was easily prevailed on to sign an argumentative certificate, and was shown one signed by Robert J. Walker on a much worse hole in the ground than this. I was also informed that New York was not the proper market, which I understand to mean that machinery could not be obtained in New York on the credit of a quartz vein; and in London they would not look at a scheme that did not embrace a million at least, said the agent aforesaid. Therefore he proposed to give me an engraved certificate, declaring that I had paid $8000, which of course I readily accepted when I found that there was no machinery in the case, and that all I had to rest my engraved certificate upon was the one hundredth part of the said hole in the ground, with a doubtful title. The last I heard of this agent was, that he was traveling with his wife upon the Rhine. Whether he was in search of machinery or not, I did not stop to inquire.
Instead of the above being an extraordinary case, I understand that it is about a fair average of the California gold schemes that have been brought upon the stock-market of New York. If the papers are only drawn up in the proper form, the most prudent men in Wall Street are sometimes found to embark their capital before the question has ever been settled whether gold can be successfully obtained from quartz in California.
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By reference to a long and able paper on the mines in the hill of Proano (Fresnillo), it appears that one half of the cost of four pumping-engines already in operation in that mine was the freight from Vera Cruz to the mine.
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This translation is bad enough, but no worse than the original.
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This will sound to Protestant readers something like horrible blasphemy; but it must be borne in mind that God the Father of the Catholics is an entirely different idea from the spiritual God whom we worship. The devout Protestant who recognizes but one Being worthy of adoration, veneration, and worship, never ventures to mention any of the names by which He is known but with the profoundest reverence. The Catholic, on the other hand, has a host of objects which he deems worthy of adoration, and seems to have cheapened the article by multiplying it. His senses are all exercised in his peculiar kind of worship, and, as a natural consequence, they are apt to conclude that the Almighty enjoys those exhibitions that give them the greatest pleasure. They worship him by performing a pantomime of the life and suffering of Christ, which is called the mass, and seek to propitiate him by offering the body of his Son in sacrifice. They bestow upon God gifts of jewels and of gold; and as he passes through their streets in the form of a wafer, as they believe, the soldiers present arms, beat the drum, and discharge their cannon, as to an earthly prince. Though our Saviour (Santo Christo) heads the calendar of intercessors between God and man, he is seldom invoked, though they often honor him by naming their children after him. As they have conferred upon a multitude of their saints the supernatural powers of God, they have necessarily brought God himself down to earth. If I might be pardoned the expression, I should say that they treat him and his well-beloved Son with a loving intimacy. The worship of the Catholics is substantially materialism, more or less gross, according to its distance from or its proximity to Protestantism. There is no blasphemy, according to their system, in naming their shops after the Holy Ghost, a horse-stable after "the Precious Blood," though I could never hear them mentioned or see them without having my Protestant notions shocked, while I equally shocked their feelings by refusing to kneel to the Host, and slipping out of the way to avoid it. Nor could I exhibit the least reverence to their religious emblems without committing what in me would be an act of idolatry, the two systems being so diametrically opposite that one can not go a step toward the other without breaking over a fundamental doctrine of his own belief. God is an invisible Spirit, says the Protestant. God is a Spirit, answers the Catholic, but he daily assumes the form of a wafer, and traverses our streets, and in that form we most commonly worship him. Such is the religious antagonism that will ever be found in the world while man remains what he now is, ever divided between mentalism and materialism. Forms and names often differ, but these are the two ideas into which all the religious systems of the world resolve themselves, although abortive attempts are often made to combine them.
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Vol. ii. p. 452.