My
brother
had
just
been appointed
Secretary
of
Nevada
Territory—an
office
of
such
majesty
that
it
concentrated
in
itself
the
duties
and
dignities
of
Treasurer, Comptroller,
Secretary
of
State,
and
Acting
Governor
in
the
Governor's absence. A salary
of
eighteen
hundred
dollars
a
year
and
the
title
of
"Mr. Secretary," gave
to
the
great
position
an
air
of
wild
and
imposing grandeur. I
was
young
and
ignorant,
and
I envied my brother. I
coveted
his
distinction
and
his
financial splendor,
but
particularly
and
especially
the
long,
strange
journey
he
was
going
to
make,
and
the
curious
new
world
he
was
going
to
explore.
He
was
going
to
travel! I
never
had been
away
from
home,
and
that
word
"travel" had a
seductive
charm
for
me. Pretty
soon
he
would
be
hundreds
and
hundreds
of
miles
away
on
the
great
plains
and
deserts,
and
among
the
mountains
of
the
Far
West,
and
would
see
buffaloes
and
Indians,
and
prairie
dogs,
and
antelopes,
and
have
all
kinds
of
adventures,
and
may
be
get
hanged
or
scalped,
and
have
ever
such
a
fine
time,
and
write
home
and
tell
us
all
about
it,
and
be
a hero.
And
he
would
see
the
gold
mines
and
the
silver
mines,
and
maybe
go
about
of
an
afternoon
when
his
work
was
done,
and
pick
up
two
or
three
pailfuls
of
shining
slugs,
and
nuggets
of
gold
and
silver
on
the
hillside.
And
by
and
by
he
would
become
very
rich,
and
return
home
by
sea,
and
be
able
to
talk
as
calmly
about
San Francisco
and
the
ocean,
and
"the isthmus"
as
if
it
was
nothing
of
any
consequence
to
have
seen
those
marvels
face
to
face.
What
I
suffered
in
contemplating
his
happiness, pen cannot describe.
And
so,
when
he
offered
me,
in
cold blood,
the
sublime
position
of
private
secretary
under
him,
it
appeared
to
me
that
the
heavens
and
the
earth
passed
away,
and
the
firmament
was
rolled
together
as
a scroll! I had
nothing
more
to
desire. My
contentment
was
complete.
At
the
end
of
an
hour
or
two
I
was
ready
for
the
journey.
Not
much
packing
up
was
necessary,
because
we
were
going
in
the
overland
stage
from
the
Missouri
frontier
to
Nevada,
and
passengers
were
only
allowed a small
quantity
of
baggage
apiece.
There
was
no
Pacific
railroad
in
those
fine
times
of
ten
or
twelve
years
ago—not a single rail
of
it. I
only
proposed
to
stay
in
Nevada
three
months—I had
no
thought
of
staying
longer
than
that. I meant
to
see
all
I
could
that
was
new
and
strange,
and
then
hurry
home
to
business. I
little
thought
that
I
would
not
see
the
end
of
that
three-month pleasure
excursion
for
six
or
seven
uncommonly
long
years! I
dreamed
all
night
about
Indians, deserts,
and
silver
bars,
and
in
due
time,
next
day,
we
took
shipping
at
the
St.
Louis
wharf
on
board
a steamboat bound
up
the
Missouri River.
We
were
six
days
going
from
St.
Louis
to
"St. Jo."—a trip
that
was
so
dull,
and
sleepy,
and
eventless
that
it
has left
no
more
impression
on
my
memory
than
if
its
duration
had been
six
minutes
instead
of
that
many
days.
No
record
is
left
in
my mind, now, concerning it,
but
a
confused
jumble
of
savage-looking snags,
which
we
deliberately
walked
over
with
one
wheel
or
the
other;
and
of
reefs
which
we
butted
and
butted,
and
then
retired
from
and
climbed
over
in
some
softer
place;
and
of
sand-bars
which
we
roosted
on
occasionally,
and
rested,
and
then
got
out
our
crutches
and
sparred
over.
In
fact,
the
boat
might
almost
as
well
have
gone
to
St. Jo.
by
land,
for
she
was
walking
most
of
the
time, anyhow—climbing
over
reefs
and
clambering
over
snags
patiently
and
laboriously
all
day
long.
The
captain said
she
was
a "bully" boat,
and
all
she
wanted
was
more
"shear"
and
a bigger wheel. I
thought
she
wanted a pair
of
stilts,
but
I had
the
deep
sagacity
not
to
say
so.