On Change, in this changing world of ours, copper looked blue.
The Outsiders had rubbed out their pencil-marks on stock memorandums, and dissipating the written evidence of thousands that had vanished into air, they themselves vanished. It was needless to say any thing to them about copper, they “never had any thing to do with it, beyond a hundred shares or so, which they sold out before the bubble looked like bursting.” Stockdom was desolate, save that a few of the bears showed their teeth, and grinned as furiously as if they had just arrived fresh from the Polar regions, and had brought any quantity of wet blankets with them. Yet they looked as if they would rather than not that any dealer in copper should take hold of them. The bulls were more plentiful—looked savage but knowing, but showed no disposition to dash at imaginary enemies in scarlet, having rather a taste left for their friends, the Browns and the Greens, who were urgently entreated to “come in again, and help sustain the market.”
The case was desperate, and desperate remedies were resolved on. It was deemed advisable to “ask the opinion of the directors!”
The directors “have no opinion of the stock! They never had,” of their own. They trusted to Grubemout, to Uptosnuff, to the Cornish miners. Their geological and mineralogical education, had been shockingly neglected in their youth, and they have verified the fact, by having on their hands, a thousand shares apiece at high prices, by having assisted to sustain the market in the various stages of the experiment. But “they would like to know who were the ‘original’ stockholders of the company who did them the honor to elect them.”
Grubemout “thought it of the highest importance that they should know, and as the original book of minutes was up at the mines and as he was going up by the next stage, would write and send them.”
It would be, perhaps, as well to give his letter:
Fleeceington, Dec. 10, 18—.
Gentlemen,—I arrived safely at the mines last evening, after rather a fatiguing journey by stage, and found, to my unspeakable amazement, that Uptosnuff had exhausted the vein, and that as no more deposites are to be found he had thought it advisable to abandon the mine. The tools, viz., four pickaxes, three shovels, and two wheelbarrows—rather dilapidated—the property of the company, I have put under shelter, to preserve them from the weather—subject to your order or disposal. The iron pump I should have removed also, but being rather heavy in the absence of the hands—who have gone back to their farms—I found it impossible to take in. It cannot, however, suffer from rust more than ten per cent., and as the original cost was but seventy dollars, the loss to the company will be inconsiderable. There is a trifle of two hundred dollars due, for boarding the hands, to the host of the “Roaring Lion,” who will forward you his account by this mail. As Uptosnuff and myself have suffered a great deal from anxiety, and exposure in the mines of the company, we deem it proper to seek a more genial clime. Any little complimentary remuneration which you may see proper to bestow on us, you will please enclose to Mr. Drawitwell, of the Hawk and Buzzard, to whom we are indebted for various little civilities, in the shape of breakfast, dinner and supper, for the past six months, and which no doubt the generosity of your complimentary donation will amply cover.
Enclosed are “the original minutes.” Uptosnuff wishes to be remembered by you. I join in the same prayer.
Yours, as ever,