“Gold, you fool! No, it’s not gold—but it’s a precious sight more valuable—because there is a great deal more of it used.”
“Why what on earth is it, then?” asked the blacksmith, in amazement.
“It’s Copper! my lads! Copper!!”
“Copper!!”
“Yes, I reckon it is!—and the genuine metal, too! And the mountain is as full of it as an egg is of meat! Only melt down one of the rocks up there, and you’ll see how it will fly out!”
To have stopped the spread of such information as this, would have surpassed the ingenuity of our clerical friend, who was opposed to the Magnetic Telegraph, as “a device of the devil.” There was a California excitement in a village, with California itself in their own mountain. He would have been a lucky traveler, who could have had his horse shod for a guinea, or a bridle-rein mended for double the amount.
“You see, my lads!” says Drawitwell, haranguing the crowd, “they are going to do the fair thing by us, they have bought the land, and are getting their act of incorporation ready, and we are all to have shares in it at a reasonable rate—and I reckon I’ll have a few, or money must be scarce in Fleeceington. There’ll be high times at the “Hawk and Buzzard”, now, I should say, when every man in this prosperous village can be an owner, for a small sum, in one of the richest mines on the face of the earth. You see it’s going to be most unconscionable high, too—it’s now twenty-two cents a pound—for the government is advertising for it in the newspapers—no doubt to make bullets with to match the infernal poisonous Mexicans. Gad, we’ll give the rascals a taste of their own physic, now, I reckon! And then don’t they make water-pipes with it now, and sheetings. And don’t they cover houses with it, and ships; and I guess the time is not far off when government will have her mint on this spot—and what’s to hinder us, then from spending our own coppers, bran new, ha! ha! If any body here has got a farm for sale, I’m his man!”
As for buying farms, the thing was perfectly absurd now, and Drawitwell should have known it; for who could tell that there was not a copper-mine under every one of them. It was not to be supposed either that the good people of Fleeceington could keep the knowledge of such extraordinary wealth all to themselves, and our usually quiet city was all agog, with the wondrous stories of the extent and richness of the mines; and to confirm its truth, Grubemout and Uptosnuff were here with the charter, and the script elegantly engraved, and any number of specimens, and copper-buttons confirmatory.
In a day or two a few shares were in the market at “a slight advance on the original cost.” Capitalists had been up who thought they “knew a thing or two”—and gudgeons began to nibble, the knowing ones among the number. The market advanced. One, two, three, four hundred per cent. was quickly achieved as competitors increased; and considering that the first cost was perhaps a dollar an acre, for an unwooded, untillable, rocky hillside, curved up and set down at a dollar per square foot as “original cost,” the profit was tempting—the market active—ditto the original holders. There was a fierce avidity for a stock which advanced at such rapid strides, and the reckless became crazy, the cautious reckless and visionary. “The Board”—knowing dogs—looked on for a while doubtfully, but in amazement. The “Outsiders” indulged in ecstasies and fanciful millions. Thousands were added up upon stock-books, as if they were “trifles light as air”—and they were. Merchants cut the shop—lawyers the red tape and sheep-skin—editors told the messenger for copy to “go to the devil”—and all became “gentlemen on ’change.” Healths were drunk “to the United Copper-Heads”—and champagne and Havanas “suffered some.” Fun and puns flashed fast and furious—and all this the while the great bubble rose up, expanding and beautifying as it ascended.
It was not to be expected that a single mountain should contain all this good luck exclusively, and in various quarters envious copper-rocks poked their noses out, quite seductively to anxious companies, who formed upon the spot. One gigantic intellect proposed the formation of a company to shovel the sand off of the whole State of New Jersey, so as to get at the substratum, at once and emphatically. Copper became substantially the great business of life—the only business of the board—the board being in fact rather a small affair while copper abounded.