There were nabobs in those days—in the "flush times," I mean. Every

rich strike in the mines created one or two. I call to mind several of

these. They were careless, easy-going fellows, as a general thing, and

the community at large was as much benefited by their riches as they were

themselves—possibly more, in some cases.

Two cousins, teamsters, did some hauling for a man and had to take a

small segregated portion of a silver mine in lieu of $300 cash. They

gave an outsider a third to open the mine, and they went on teaming. But

not long. Ten months afterward the mine was out of debt and paying each

owner $8,000 to $10,000 a month—say $100,000 a year.

Roughing It/Chapter XLVI

One of the earliest nabobs that Nevada was delivered of wore $6,000 worth

of diamonds in his bosom, and swore he was unhappy because he could not

spend his money as fast as he made it.

Roughing It/Chapter XLVI

Another Nevada nabob boasted an income that often reached $16,000 a

month; and he used to love to tell how he had worked in the very mine

that yielded it, for five dollars a day, when he first came to the

country.

Roughing It/Chapter XLVI

The silver and sage-brush State has knowledge of another of these pets of

fortune—lifted from actual poverty to affluence almost in a single

night—who was able to offer $100,000 for a position of high official

distinction, shortly afterward, and did offer it—but failed to get it, his politics not being as sound as his bank account.

Then there was John Smith. He was a good, honest, kind-hearted soul, born and reared in the lower ranks of life, and miraculously ignorant. He drove a team, and owned a small ranch—a ranch that paid him a comfortable living, for although it yielded but little hay, what little it did yield was worth from $250 to $300 in gold per ton in the market. Presently Smith traded a few acres of the ranch for a small undeveloped silver mine in Gold Hill. He opened the mine and built a little unpretending ten-stamp mill. Eighteen months afterward he retired from the hay business, for his mining income had reached a most comfortable figure. Some people said it was $30,000 a month, and others said it was $60,000. Smith was very rich at any rate.

And then he went to Europe and traveled. And when he came back he was

never tired of telling about the fine hogs he had seen in England, and

the gorgeous sheep he had seen in Spain, and the fine cattle he had

noticed in the vicinity of Rome. He was full of wonders of the old

world, and advised everybody to travel. He said a man never imagined

what surprising things there were in the world till he had traveled.

One day, on board ship, the passengers made up a pool of $500, which was

to be the property of the man who should come nearest to guessing the run

of the vessel for the next twenty-four hours. Next day, toward noon, the

figures were all in the purser's hands in sealed envelopes. Smith was

serene and happy, for he had been bribing the engineer. But another

party won the prize! Smith said:

"Here, that won't do! He guessed two miles wider of the mark than I did."

The purser said, "Mr. Smith, you missed it further than any man on board. We traveled two hundred and eight miles yesterday."

"Well, sir," said Smith, "that's just where I've got you, for I guessed

two hundred and nine. If you'll look at my figgers again you'll find a 2

and two 0's, which stands for 200, don't it?—and after 'em you'll find a

9 (2009), which stands for two hundred and nine. I reckon I'll take that

money, if you please."

The Gould & Curry claim comprised twelve hundred feet, and it all

belonged originally to the two men whose names it bears. Mr. Curry owned

two thirds of it—and he said that he sold it out for twenty-five hundred

dollars in cash, and an old plug horse that ate up his market value in

hay and barley in seventeen days by the watch. And he said that Gould

sold out for a pair of second-hand government blankets and a bottle of

whisky that killed nine men in three hours, and that an unoffending

stranger that smelt the cork was disabled for life. Four years afterward

the mine thus disposed of was worth in the San Francisco market seven

millions six hundred thousand dollars in gold coin.