I had
already
learned
how
hard
and
long
and
dismal
a task
it
is
to
burrow
down
into
the
bowels
of
the
earth
and
get
out
the
coveted
ore;
and
now
I learned
that
the
burrowing
was
only
half
the
work;
and
that
to
get
the
silver
out
of
the
ore
was
the
dreary
and
laborious
other
half
of
it.
We
had
to
turn
out
at
six
in
the
morning
and
keep
at
it
till
dark.
This
mill
was
a six-stamp affair, driven
by
steam.
Six
tall,
upright
rods
of
iron,
as
large
as
a man's ankle,
and
heavily
shod
with
a
mass
of
iron
and
steel
at
their
lower
ends,
were
framed
together
like
a gate,
and
these
rose
and
fell,
one
after
the
other,
in
a
ponderous
dance,
in
an
iron
box
called
a "battery."
Each
of
these
rods
or
stamps
weighed
six
hundred
pounds.
One
of
us
stood
by
the
battery
all
day
long,
breaking
up
masses
of
silver-bearing rock
with
a
sledge
and
shoveling
it
into
the
battery.
The
ceaseless dance
of
the
stamps
pulverized
the
rock
to
powder,
and
a
stream
of
water
that
trickled
into
the
battery
turned
it
to
a creamy paste.
The
minutest
particles
were
driven
through
a
fine
wire
screen
which
fitted close
around
the
battery,
and
were
washed
into
great
tubs
warmed
by
super-heated steam—amalgamating pans,
they
are
called.
The
mass
of
pulp
in
the
pans
was
kept constantly
stirred
up
by
revolving "mullers." A
quantity
of
quicksilver
was
kept
always
in
the
battery,
and
this
seized
some
of
the
liberated
gold
and
silver
particles
and
held
on
to
them;
quicksilver
was
shaken
in
a
fine
shower
into
the
pans, also,
about
every
half
hour,
through
a buckskin sack.
Quantities
of
coarse
salt
and
sulphate
of
copper
were
added,
from
time
to
time
to
assist
the
amalgamation
by
destroying
base
metals
which
coated
the
gold
and
silver
and
would
not
let
it
unite
with
the
quicksilver.
All
these
tiresome
things
we
had
to
attend
to
constantly.
Streams
of
dirty
water
flowed
always
from
the
pans
and
were
carried
off
in
broad
wooden
troughs
to
the
ravine.
One
would
not
suppose
that
atoms
of
gold
and
silver
would
float
on
top
of
six
inches
of
water,
but
they
did;
and
in
order
to
catch
them,
coarse
blankets
were
laid
in
the
troughs,
and
little
obstructing
"riffles"
charged
with
quicksilver
were
placed
here
and
there
across
the
troughs
also.
These
riffles
had
to
be
cleaned
and
the
blankets
washed
out
every
evening,
to
get
their
precious accumulations—and
after
all
this
eternity
of
trouble
one
third
of
the
silver
and
gold
in
a ton
of
rock
would
find
its
way
to
the
end
of
the
troughs
in
the
ravine
at
last
and
have
to
be
worked
over
again
some
day.
There
is
nothing
so
aggravating
as
silver
milling.
There
never
was
any
idle time
in
that
mill.
There
was
always
something
to
do.
It
is
a
pity
that
Adam
could
not
have
gone straight
out
of
Eden
into
a
quartz
mill,
in
order
to
understand
the
full
force
of
his
doom
to
"earn
his
bread
by
the
sweat
of
his
brow."
Every
now
and
then,
during
the
day,
we
had
to
scoop
some
pulp
out
of
the
pans,
and
tediously
"wash"
it
in
a
horn
spoon—wash
it
little
by
little
over
the
edge
till
at
last
nothing
was
left
but
some
little
dull
globules
of
quicksilver
in
the
bottom.
If
they
were
soft
and
yielding,
the
pan
needed
some
salt
or
some
sulphate
of
copper
or
some
other
chemical
rubbish
to
assist digestion;
if
they
were
crisp
to
the
touch
and
would
retain
a dint,
they
were
freighted
with
all
the
silver
and
gold
they
could
seize
and
hold,
and
consequently
the
pan
needed
a
fresh
charge
of
quicksilver.
When
there
was
nothing
else
to
do,
one
could
always
"screen tailings."
That
is
to
say,
he
could
shovel
up
the
dried sand
that
had
washed
down
to
the
ravine
through
the
troughs
and
dash
it
against
an
upright
wire
screen
to
free
it
from
pebbles
and
prepare
it
for
working over.
The
process
of
amalgamation
differed
in
the
various
mills,
and
this
included
changes
in
style
of
pans
and
other
machinery,
and
a
great
diversity
of
opinion
existed
as
to
the
best
in
use,
but
none
of
the
methods
employed, involved
the
principle
of
milling
ore
without
"screening
the
tailings."
Of
all
recreations
in
the
world,
screening
tailings
on
a
hot
day,
with
a long-handled shovel,
is
the
most
undesirable.
At
the
end
of
the
week
the
machinery
was
stopped
and
we
"cleaned up."
That
is
to
say,
we
got
the
pulp
out
of
the
pans
and
batteries,
and
washed
the
mud
patiently
away
till
nothing
was
left
but
the
long
accumulating
mass
of
quicksilver,
with
its
imprisoned
treasures.
This
we
made
into
heavy, compact snow-balls,
and
piled
them
up
in
a bright,
luxurious
heap
for
inspection.
Making
these
snow-balls
cost
me
a
fine
gold
ring—that
and
ignorance
together;
for
the
quicksilver
invaded
the
ring
with
the
same
facility
with
which
water
saturates
a sponge—separated
its
particles
and
the
ring
crumbled
to
pieces.
We
put
our
pile
of
quicksilver
balls
into
an
iron retort
that
had a
pipe
leading
from
it
to
a
pail
of
water,
and
then
applied a roasting heat.
The
quicksilver
turned
to
vapor,
escaped
through
the
pipe
into
the
pail,
and
the
water
turned
it
into
good
wholesome
quicksilver
again.
Quicksilver
is
very
costly,
and
they
never
waste
it.
On
opening
the
retort,
there
was
our
week's work—a lump
of
pure
white,
frosty
looking
silver,
twice
as
large
as
a man's head.
Perhaps
a
fifth
of
the
mass
was
gold,
but
the
color
of
it
did
not
show—would
not
have
shown
if
two
thirds
of
it
had been gold.
We
melted
it
up
and
made
a
solid
brick
of
it
by
pouring
it
into
an
iron brick-mould.
By
such
a
tedious
and
laborious
process
were
silver
bricks
obtained.
This
mill
was
but
one
of
many
others
in
operation
at
the
time.
The
first
one
in
Nevada
was
built
at
Egan
Canyon
and
was
a small insignificant
affair
and
compared
most
unfavorably
with
some
of
the
immense
establishments afterwards
located
at
Virginia
City
and
elsewhere.
From
our
bricks
a
little
corner
was
chipped
off
for
the
"fire-assay"—a
method
used
to
determine
the
proportions
of
gold,
silver
and
base
metals
in
the
mass.
This
is
an
interesting process.
The
chip
is
hammered
out
as
thin
as
paper
and
weighed
on
scales
so
fine
and
sensitive
that
if
you
weigh
a two-inch scrap
of
paper
on
them
and
then
write
your
name
on
the
paper
with
a course,
soft
pencil
and
weigh
it
again,
the
scales
will
take
marked
notice
of
the
addition.
Then
a
little
lead (also weighed)
is
rolled
up
with
the
flake
of
silver
and
the
two
are
melted
at
a
great
heat
in
a small
vessel
called
a cupel,
made
by
compressing
bone
ashes
into
a cup-shape
in
a
steel
mold.
The
base
metals
oxydize
and
are
absorbed
with
the
lead
into
the
pores
of
the
cupel. A
button
or
globule
of
perfectly
pure
gold
and
silver
is
left behind,
and
by
weighing
it
and
noting
the
loss,
the
assayer
knows
the
proportion
of
base
metal
the
brick
contains.
He
has
to
separate
the
gold
from
the
silver
now.
The
button
is
hammered
out
flat
and
thin,
put
in
the
furnace
and
kept
some
time
at
a
red
heat;
after
cooling
it
off
it
is
rolled
up
like
a
quill
and
heated
in
a glass
vessel
containing
nitric
acid;
the
acid
dissolves
the
silver
and
leaves
the
gold
pure
and
ready
to
be
weighed
on
its
own
merits.
Then
salt
water
is
poured
into
the
vessel
containing
the
dissolved
silver
and
the
silver
returns
to
palpable
form
again
and
sinks
to
the
bottom.
Nothing
now
remains
but
to
weigh
it;
then
the
proportions
of
the
several
metals
contained
in
the
brick
are
known,
and
the
assayer
stamps
the
value
of
the
brick
upon
its
surface.
The
sagacious
reader
will
know
now,
without
being told,
that
the
speculative
miner,
in
getting
a "fire-assay"
made
of
a
piece
of
rock
from
his
mine
(to
help
him
sell
the
same),
was
not
in
the
habit
of
picking
out
the
least
valuable
fragment
of
rock
on
his
dump-pile,
but
quite
the
contrary. I
have
seen
men hunt
over
a
pile
of
nearly worthless
quartz
for
an
hour,
and
at
last
find a
little
piece
as
large
as
a filbert,
which
was
rich
in
gold
and
silver—and
this
was
reserved
for
a fire-assay!
Of
course
the
fire-assay
would
demonstrate
that
a ton
of
such
rock
would
yield
hundreds
of
dollars—and
on
such
assays
many
an
utterly
worthless
mine
was
sold.
Assaying
was
a
good
business,
and
so
some
men engaged
in
it, occasionally,
who
were
not
strictly
scientific
and
capable.
One
assayer
got
such
rich
results
out
of
all
specimens
brought
to
him
that
in
time
he
acquired
almost
a
monopoly
of
the
business.
But
like
all
men
who
achieve
success,
he
became
an
object
of
envy
and
suspicion.
The
other
assayers
entered
into
a
conspiracy
against him,
and
let
some
prominent
citizens
into
the
secret
in
order
to
show
that
they
meant fairly.
Then
they
broke
a
little
fragment
off
a carpenter's grindstone
and
got a
stranger
to
take
it
to
the
popular
scientist
and
get
it
assayed.
In
the
course
of
an
hour
the
result
came—whereby
it
appeared
that
a ton
of
that
rock
would
yield
$1,184.40
in
silver
and
$366.36
in
gold!
Due
publication
of
the
whole
matter
was
made
in
the
paper,
and
the
popular
assayer
left
town
"between
two
days." I
will
remark,
in
passing,
that
I
only
remained
in
the
milling
business
one
week. I
told
my employer I
could
not
stay
longer
without
an
advance
in
my wages;
that
I
liked
quartz
milling,
indeed
was
infatuated
with
it;
that
I had
never
before
grown
so
tenderly
attached
to
an
occupation
in
so
short
a time;
that
nothing,
it
seemed
to
me, gave
such
scope
to
intellectual
activity
as
feeding
a
battery
and
screening
tailings,
and
nothing
so
stimulated
the
moral
attributes
as
retorting
bullion
and
washing
blankets—still, I felt
constrained
to
ask
an
increase
of
salary.
He
said
he
was
paying
me
ten
dollars
a week,
and
thought
it
a
good
round sum.
How
much
did
I want? I said
about
four
hundred
thousand
dollars
a month,
and
board,
was
about
all
I
could
reasonably ask,
considering
the
hard
times. I
was
ordered
off
the
premises!
And
yet,
when
I
look
back
to
those
days
and
call
to
mind
the
exceeding
hardness
of
the
labor
I
performed
in
that
mill, I
only
regret
that
I
did
not
ask
him
seven
hundred
thousand.
Shortly
after
this
I began
to
grow crazy,
along
with
the
rest
of
the
population,
about
the
mysterious
and
wonderful
"cement mine,"
and
to
make
preparations
to
take
advantage
of
any
opportunity
that
might
offer
to
go
and
help
hunt
for
it.