Originally,
Nevada
was
a
part
of
Utah
and
was
called
Carson county;
and
a pretty
large
county
it
was, too.
Certain
of
its
valleys
produced
no
end
of
hay,
and
this
attracted
small
colonies
of
Mormon
stock-raisers
and
farmers
to
them. A
few
orthodox
Americans
straggled
in
from
California,
but
no
love
was
lost
between
the
two
classes
of
colonists.
There
was
little
or
no
friendly
intercourse;
each
party
staid
to
itself.
The
Mormons
were
largely
in
the
majority,
and
had
the
additional
advantage
of
being
peculiarly
under
the
protection
of
the
Mormon
government
of
the
Territory.
Therefore
they
could
afford
to
be
distant,
and
even
peremptory
toward
their
neighbors.
One
of
the
traditions
of
Carson
Valley
illustrates
the
condition
of
things
that
prevailed
at
the
time I
speak
of.
The
hired
girl
of
one
of
the
American
families
was
Irish,
and
a Catholic;
yet
it
was
noted
with
surprise
that
she
was
the
only
person
outside
of
the
Mormon
ring
who
could
get
favors
from
the
Mormons.
She
asked
kindnesses
of
them
often,
and
always
got them.
It
was
a
mystery
to
everybody.
But
one
day
as
she
was
passing
out
at
the
door, a
large
bowie knife
dropped
from
under
her
apron,
and
when
her
mistress
asked
for
an
explanation
she
observed
that
she
was
going
out
to
"borry a wash-tub
from
the
Mormons!"
In
1858
silver
lodes
were
discovered
in
"Carson County,"
and
then
the
aspect
of
things
changed. Californians began
to
flock
in,
and
the
American
element
was
soon
in
the
majority.
Allegiance
to
Brigham
Young
and
Utah
was
renounced,
and
a
temporary
territorial
government
for
"Washoe"
was
instituted
by
the
citizens.
Governor
Roop
was
the
first
and
only
chief
magistrate
of
it.
In
due
course
of
time
Congress
passed
a
bill
to
organize
"Nevada Territory,"
and
President
Lincoln
sent
out
Governor
Nye
to
supplant
Roop.
At
this
time
the
population
of
the
Territory
was
about
twelve
or
fifteen
thousand,
and
rapidly
increasing.
Silver
mines
were
being
vigorously
developed
and
silver
mills erected.
Business
of
all
kinds
was
active
and
prosperous
and
growing
more
so
day
by
day.
The
people
were
glad
to
have
a
legitimately
constituted
government,
but
did
not
particularly
enjoy
having
strangers
from
distant
States
put
in
authority
over
them—a
sentiment
that
was
natural
enough.
They
thought
the
officials
should
have
been chosen
from
among
themselves
from
among
prominent
citizens
who
had
earned
a
right
to
such
promotion,
and
who
would
be
in
sympathy
with
the
populace
and
likewise
thoroughly
acquainted
with
the
needs
of
the
Territory.
They
were
right
in
viewing
the
matter
thus,
without
doubt.
The
new
officers
were
"emigrants,"
and
that
was
no
title
to
anybody's
affection
or
admiration
either.
The
new
government
was
received
with
considerable
coolness.
It
was
not
only
a
foreign
intruder,
but
a
poor
one.
It
was
not
even
worth
plucking—except
by
the
smallest
of
small
fry
office-seekers
and
such. Everybody
knew
that
Congress
had
appropriated
only
twenty
thousand
dollars
a
year
in
greenbacks
for
its
support—about
money
enough
to
run
a
quartz
mill a month.
And
everybody knew, also,
that
the
first
year's
money
was
still
in
Washington,
and
that
the
getting
hold
of
it
would
be
a
tedious
and
difficult
process. Carson
City
was
too
wary
and
too
wise
to
open
up
a
credit
account
with
the
imported bantling
with
anything
like
indecent
haste.
There
is
something
solemnly
funny
about
the
struggles
of
a new-born
Territorial
government
to
get
a start
in
this
world.
Ours
had a trying time
of
it.
The
Organic
Act
and
the
"instructions"
from
the
State
Department
commanded
that
a legislature
should
be
elected
at
such-and-
such
a time,
and
its
sittings
inaugurated
at
such-and-such a date.
It
was
easy
to
get
legislators,
even
at
three
dollars
a day, although
board
was
four
dollars
and
fifty
cents,
for
distinction
has
its
charm
in
Nevada
as
well
as
elsewhere,
and
there
were
plenty
of
patriotic
souls
out
of
employment;
but
to
get
a legislative
hall
for
them
to
meet
in
was
another
matter
altogether. Carson
blandly
declined
to
give
a
room
rent-free,
or
let
one
to
the
government
on
credit.
But
when
Curry
heard
of
the
difficulty,
he
came forward,
solitary
and
alone,
and
shouldered
the
Ship
of
State
over
the
bar
and
got
her
afloat
again. I
refer
to
"Curry—Old Curry—Old Abe Curry."
But
for
him
the
legislature
would
have
been obliged
to
sit
in
the
desert.
He
offered
his
large
stone
building
just
outside
the
capital
limits, rent-free,
and
it
was
gladly
accepted.
Then
he
built a horse-railroad
from
town
to
the
capitol,
and
carried
the
legislators
gratis.
He
also
furnished
pine
benches
and
chairs
for
the
legislature,
and
covered
the
floors
with
clean saw-dust
by
way
of
carpet
and
spittoon
combined.
But
for
Curry
the
government
would
have
died
in
its
tender
infancy. A
canvas
partition
to
separate
the
Senate
from
the
House
of
Representatives
was
put
up
by
the
Secretary,
at
a
cost
of
three
dollars
and
forty
cents,
but
the
United
States
declined
to
pay
for
it.
Upon
being reminded
that
the
"instructions" permitted
the
payment
of
a liberal
rent
for
a legislative hall,
and
that
that
money
was
saved
to
the
country
by
Mr. Curry's generosity,
the
United
States
said
that
did
not
alter
the
matter,
and
the
three
dollars
and
forty
cents
would
be
subtracted
from
the
Secretary's
eighteen
hundred
dollar
salary—and
it
was!
The
matter
of
printing
was
from
the
beginning
an
interesting feature
of
the
new
government's difficulties.
The
Secretary
was
sworn
to
obey
his
volume
of
written "instructions,"
and
these
commanded
him
to
do
two
certain
things
without
fail, viz.: 1.
Get
the
House
and
Senate
journals
printed; and, 2.
For
this
work,
pay
one
dollar
and
fifty
cents
per
"thousand"
for
composition,
and
one
dollar
and
fifty
cents
per
"token"
for
press-work,
in
greenbacks.
It
was
easy
to
swear
to
do
these
two
things,
but
it
was
entirely
impossible
to
do
more
than
one
of
them.
When
greenbacks had gone
down
to
forty
cents
on
the
dollar,
the
prices
regularly
charged
everybody
by
printing establishments
were
one
dollar
and
fifty
cents
per
"thousand"
and
one
dollar
and
fifty
cents
per
"token,"
in
gold.
The
"instructions"
commanded
that
the
Secretary
regard
a paper
dollar
issued
by
the
government
as
equal
to
any
other
dollar
issued
by
the
government.
Hence
the
printing
of
the
journals
was
discontinued.
Then
the
United
States
sternly rebuked
the
Secretary
for
disregarding
the
"instructions,"
and
warned
him
to
correct
his
ways.
Wherefore
he
got
some
printing done, forwarded
the
bill
to
Washington
with
full
exhibits
of
the
high
prices
of
things
in
the
Territory,
and
called
attention
to
a
printed
market
report
wherein
it
would
be
observed
that
even
hay
was
two
hundred
and
fifty
dollars
a ton.
The
United
States
responded
by
subtracting
the
printing-
bill
from
the
Secretary's suffering salary—and moreover remarked
with
dense
gravity
that
he
would
find
nothing
in
his
"instructions"
requiring
him
to
purchase
hay!
Nothing
in
this
world
is
palled
in
such
impenetrable
obscurity
as
a U.S.
Treasury
Comptroller's understanding.
The
very
fires
of
the
hereafter
could
get
up
nothing
more
than
a fitful glimmer
in
it.
In
the
days
I
speak
of
he
never
could
be
made
to
comprehend
why
it
was
that
twenty
thousand
dollars
would
not
go
as
far
in
Nevada,
where
all
commodities
ranged
at
an
enormous
figure,
as
it
would
in
the
other
Territories,
where
exceeding
cheapness
was
the
rule.
He
was
an
officer
who
looked
out
for
the
little
expenses
all
the
time.
The
Secretary
of
the
Territory
kept
his
office
in
his
bedroom,
as
I
before
remarked;
and
he
charged
the
United
States
no
rent, although
his
"instructions" provided
for
that
item
and
he
could
have
justly taken
advantage
of
it
(a
thing
which
I
would
have
done
with
more
than
lightning
promptness
if
I had been
Secretary
myself).
But
the
United
States
never
applauded
this
devotion. Indeed, I
think
my
country
was
ashamed
to
have
so
improvident
a
person
in
its
employ.
Those
"instructions" (we used
to
read a
chapter
from
them
every
morning,
as
intellectual gymnastics,
and
a
couple
of
chapters
in
Sunday
school
every
Sabbath,
for
they
treated
of
all
subjects
under
the
sun
and
had
much
valuable
religious
matter
in
them
along
with
the
other
statistics)
those
"instructions"
commanded
that
pen-knives, envelopes, pens
and
writing-paper
be
furnished
the
members
of
the
legislature.
So
the
Secretary
made
the
purchase
and
the
distribution.
The
knives
cost
three
dollars
apiece.
There
was
one
too
many,
and
the
Secretary
gave
it
to
the
Clerk
of
the
House
of
Representatives.
The
United
States
said
the
Clerk
of
the
House
was
not
a "member"
of
the
legislature,
and
took
that
three
dollars
out
of
the
Secretary's salary,
as
usual.
White
men
charged
three
or
four
dollars
a "load"
for
sawing
up
stove- wood.
The
Secretary
was
sagacious
enough
to
know
that
the
United
States
would
never
pay
any
such
price
as
that;
so
he
got
an
Indian
to
saw
up
a load
of
office
wood
at
one
dollar
and
a half.
He
made
out
the
usual
voucher,
but
signed
no
name
to
it—simply
appended
a
note
explaining
that
an
Indian had
done
the
work,
and
had
done
it
in
a
very
capable
and
satisfactory
way,
but
could
not
sign
the
voucher
owing
to
lack
of
ability
in
the
necessary
direction.
The
Secretary
had
to
pay
that
dollar
and
a half.
He
thought
the
United
States
would
admire
both
his
economy
and
his
honesty
in
getting
the
work
done
at
half
price
and
not
putting
a pretended Indian's
signature
to
the
voucher,
but
the
United
States
did
not
see
it
in
that
light.
The
United
States
was
too
much
accustomed
to
employing
dollar-and-a-half
thieves
in
all
manner
of
official
capacities
to
regard
his
explanation
of
the
voucher
as
having
any
foundation
in
fact.
But
the
next
time
the
Indian
sawed
wood
for
us
I
taught
him
to
make
a
cross
at
the
bottom
of
the
voucher—it
looked
like
a
cross
that
had been
drunk
a year—and
then
I "witnessed"
it
and
it
went
through
all
right.
The
United
States
never
said a word. I
was
sorry
I had
not
made
the
voucher
for
a
thousand
loads
of
wood
instead
of
one.
The
government
of
my
country
snubs
honest
simplicity
but
fondles
artistic
villainy,
and
I
think
I
might
have
developed
into
a
very
capable
pickpocket
if
I had
remained
in
the
public
service
a
year
or
two.
That
was
a
fine
collection
of
sovereigns,
that
first
Nevada
legislature.
They
levied
taxes
to
the
amount
of
thirty
or
forty
thousand
dollars
and
ordered
expenditures
to
the
extent
of
about
a million.
Yet
they
had
their
little
periodical
explosions
of
economy
like
all
other
bodies
of
the
kind. A
member
proposed
to
save
three
dollars
a
day
to
the
nation
by
dispensing
with
the
Chaplain.
And
yet
that
short-sighted
man
needed
the
Chaplain
more
than
any
other
member, perhaps,
for
he
generally sat
with
his
feet
on
his
desk,
eating
raw
turnips,
during
the
morning
prayer.
The
legislature sat
sixty
days,
and
passed
private
tollroad
franchises
all
the
time.
When
they
adjourned
it
was
estimated
that
every
citizen
owned
about
three
franchises,
and
it
was
believed
that
unless
Congress
gave
the
Territory
another
degree
of
longitude
there
would
not
be
room
enough
to
accommodate
the
toll-roads.
The
ends
of
them
were
hanging
over
the
boundary line
everywhere
like
a fringe.
The
fact
is,
the
freighting
business
had grown
to
such
important
proportions
that
there
was
nearly
as
much
excitement
over
suddenly acquired toll-road
fortunes
as
over
the
wonderful
silver
mines.