However,
as
I
grew
better
acquainted
with
the
business
and
learned
the
run
of
the
sources
of
information
I
ceased
to
require
the
aid
of
fancy
to
any
large
extent,
and
became
able
to
fill
my
columns
without
diverging
noticeably
from
the
domain
of
fact. I struck
up
friendships
with
the
reporters
of
the
other
journals,
and
we
swapped
"regulars"
with
each
other
and
thus
economized work. "Regulars"
are
permanent
sources
of
news,
like
courts,
bullion
returns, "clean-ups"
at
the
quartz
mills,
and
inquests. Inasmuch
as
everybody went armed,
we
had
an
inquest
about
every
day,
and
so
this
department
was
naturally
set
down
among
the
"regulars."
We
had
lively
papers
in
those
days. My
great
competitor
among
the
reporters
was
Boggs
of
the
Union.
He
was
an
excellent
reporter.
Once
in
three
or
four
months
he
would
get
a
little
intoxicated,
but
as
a
general
thing
he
was
a
wary
and
cautious
drinker
although
always
ready
to
tamper a
little
with
the
enemy.
He
had
the
advantage
of
me
in
one
thing;
he
could
get
the
monthly
public
school
report
and
I
could
not,
because
the
principal
hated
the
Enterprise.
One
snowy
night
when
the
report
was
due, I started
out
sadly
wondering
how
I
was
going
to
get
it. Presently, a
few
steps
up
the
almost
deserted
street
I stumbled
on
Boggs
and
asked
him
where
he
was
going. "After
the
school
report." "I'll
go
along
with
you." "No, sir. I'll
excuse
you." "Just
as
you
say." A saloon-keeper's
boy
passed
by
with
a
steaming
pitcher
of
hot
punch,
and
Boggs snuffed
the
fragrance
gratefully.
He
gazed fondly
after
the
boy
and
saw
him
start
up
the
Enterprise
stairs. I said: "I
wish
you
could
help
me
get
that
school
business,
but
since
you
can't, I
must
run
up
to
the
Union
office
and
see
if
I
can
get
them
to
let
me
have
a
proof
of
it
after
they
have
set
it
up,
though
I don't
begin
to
suppose
they
will.
Good
night." "Hold
on
a minute. I don't
mind
getting
the
report
and
sitting
around
with
the
boys
a little,
while
you
copy
it,
if
you're
willing
to
drop
down
to
the
principal's
with
me." "Now
you
talk
like
a
rational
being.
Come
along."
We
plowed
a
couple
of
blocks
through
the
snow, got
the
report
and
returned
to
our
office.
It
was
a
short
document
and
soon
copied. Meantime Boggs
helped
himself
to
the
punch. I gave
the
manuscript
back
to
him
and
we
started
out
to
get
an
inquest,
for
we
heard
pistol
shots
near
by.
We
got
the
particulars
with
little
loss
of
time,
for
it
was
only
an
inferior
sort
of
bar-room murder,
and
of
little
interest
to
the
public,
and
then
we
separated.
Away
at
three
o'clock
in
the
morning,
when
we
had gone
to
press
and
were
having
a
relaxing
concert
as
usual—for
some
of
the
printers
were
good
singers
and
others
good
performers
on
the
guitar
and
on
that
atrocity
the
accordion—the proprietor
of
the
Union strode
in
and
desired
to
know
if
anybody had
heard
anything
of
Boggs
or
the
school
report.
We
stated
the
case,
and
all
turned
out
to
help
hunt
for
the
delinquent.
We
found
him
standing
on
a table
in
a saloon,
with
an
old
tin
lantern
in
one
hand
and
the
school
report
in
the
other,
haranguing
a gang
of
intoxicated Cornish
miners
on
the
iniquity
of
squandering
the
public
moneys
on
education
"when
hundreds
and
hundreds
of
honest
hard-working men
are
literally
starving
for
whiskey." [Riotous applause.]
He
had been assisting
in
a
regal
spree
with
those
parties
for
hours.
We
dragged
him
away
and
put
him
to
bed.
Of
course
there
was
no
school
report
in
the
Union,
and
Boggs
held
me
accountable,
though
I
was
innocent
of
any
intention
or
desire
to
compass
its
absence
from
that
paper
and
was
as
sorry
as
any
one
that
the
misfortune had occurred.
But
we
were
perfectly friendly.
The
day
that
the
school
report
was
next
due,
the
proprietor
of
the
"Genessee"
mine
furnished
us
a buggy
and
asked
us
to
go
down
and
write
something
about
the
property—a
very
common
request
and
one
always
gladly
acceded
to
when
people
furnished buggies,
for
we
were
as
fond
of
pleasure
excursions
as
other
people.
In
due
time
we
arrived
at
the
"mine"—nothing
but
a
hole
in
the
ground
ninety
feet deep,
and
no
way
of
getting
down
into
it
but
by
holding
on
to
a rope
and
being
lowered
with
a windlass.
The
workmen had
just
gone
off
somewhere
to
dinner. I
was
not
strong
enough
to
lower
Boggs's bulk;
so
I
took
an
unlighted
candle
in
my teeth,
made
a loop
for
my
foot
in
the
end
of
the
rope,
implored
Boggs
not
to
go
to
sleep
or
let
the
windlass
get
the
start
of
him,
and
then
swung
out
over
the
shaft. I reached
the
bottom muddy
and
bruised
about
the
elbows,
but
safe. I
lit
the
candle,
made
an
examination
of
the
rock,
selected
some
specimens
and
shouted
to
Boggs
to
hoist
away.
No
answer. Presently a
head
appeared
in
the
circle
of
daylight
away
aloft,
and
a voice came down: "Are
you
all
set?" "All set—hoist away." "Are
you
comfortable?" "Perfectly." "Could
you
wait
a little?" "Oh certainly—no
particular
hurry." "Well—good by." "Why?
Where
are
you
going?" "After
the
school
report!"
And
he
did. I staid
down
there
an
hour,
and
surprised
the
workmen
when
they
hauled
up
and
found a
man
on
the
rope
instead
of
a
bucket
of
rock. I walked home, too—five miles—up hill.
We
had
no
school
report
next
morning;
but
the
Union had.
Six
months
after
my
entry
into
journalism
the
grand
"flush times"
of
Silverland began,
and
they
continued
with
unabated
splendor
for
three
years.
All
difficulty
about
filling
up
the
"local department" ceased,
and
the
only
trouble
now
was
how
to
make
the
lengthened
columns
hold
the
world
of
incidents
and
happenings
that
came
to
our
literary
net
every
day.
Virginia
had grown
to
be
the
"livest" town,
for
its
age
and
population,
that
America
had
ever
produced.
The
sidewalks
swarmed
with
people—to
such
an
extent, indeed,
that
it
was
generally
no
easy
matter
to
stem
the
human
tide.
The
streets
themselves
were
just
as
crowded
with
quartz
wagons,
freight
teams
and
other
vehicles.
The
procession
was
endless.
So
great
was
the
pack,
that
buggies frequently had
to
wait
half
an
hour
for
an
opportunity
to
cross
the
principal
street.
Joy
sat
on
every
countenance,
and
there
was
a glad,
almost
fierce,
intensity
in
every
eye,
that
told
of
the
money-getting schemes
that
were
seething
in
every
brain
and
the
high
hope
that
held
sway
in
every
heart.
Money
was
as
plenty
as
dust;
every
individual
considered
himself
wealthy,
and
a melancholy countenance
was
nowhere
to
be
seen.
There
were
military companies,
fire
companies,
brass
bands, banks, hotels, theatres, "hurdy- gurdy houses," wide-open gambling palaces,
political
pow-wows,
civic
processions,
street
fights, murders, inquests, riots, a
whiskey
mill
every
fifteen
steps, a
Board
of
Aldermen, a Mayor, a
City
Surveyor, a
City
Engineer, a
Chief
of
the
Fire
Department,
with
First,
Second
and
Third
Assistants, a
Chief
of
Police,
City
Marshal
and
a
large
police
force,
two
Boards
of
Mining Brokers, a
dozen
breweries
and
half
a
dozen
jails
and
station-houses
in
full
operation,
and
some
talk
of
building a church.
The
"flush times"
were
in
magnificent
flower!
Large
fire-proof
brick
buildings
were
going
up
in
the
principal
streets,
and
the
wooden
suburbs
were
spreading
out
in
all
directions.
Town
lots
soared
up
to
prices
that
were
amazing.
The
great
"Comstock lode" stretched
its
opulent
length
straight
through
the
town
from
north
to
south,
and
every
mine
on
it
was
in
diligent
process
of
development.
One
of
these
mines
alone
employed
six
hundred
and
seventy-five men,
and
in
the
matter
of
elections
the
adage
was, "as
the
'Gould
and
Curry' goes,
so
goes
the
city."
Laboring
men's
wages
were
four
and
six
dollars
a day,
and
they
worked
in
three
"shifts"
or
gangs,
and
the
blasting
and
picking
and
shoveling went
on
without
ceasing,
night
and
day.
The
"city"
of
Virginia
roosted royally
midway
up
the
steep
side
of
Mount
Davidson,
seven
thousand
two
hundred
feet
above
the
level
of
the
sea,
and
in
the
clear
Nevada
atmosphere
was
visible
from
a distance
of
fifty
miles!
It
claimed
a
population
of
fifteen
thousand
to
eighteen
thousand,
and
all
day
long
half
of
this
little
army
swarmed
the
streets
like
bees
and
the
other
half
swarmed
among
the
drifts
and
tunnels
of
the
"Comstock,"
hundreds
of
feet
down
in
the
earth
directly
under
those
same
streets.
Often
we
felt
our
chairs jar,
and
heard
the
faint boom
of
a
blast
down
in
the
bowels
of
the
earth
under
the
office.
The
mountain
side
was
so
steep
that
the
entire
town
had a slant
to
it
like
a roof.
Each
street
was
a terrace,
and
from
each
to
the
next
street
below
the
descent
was
forty
or
fifty
feet.
The
fronts
of
the
houses
were
level
with
the
street
they
faced,
but
their
rear
first
floors
were
propped
on
lofty stilts; a
man
could
stand
at
a rear
first
floor
window
of
a C
street
house
and
look
down
the
chimneys
of
the
row
of
houses
below
him
facing D street.
It
was
a
laborious
climb,
in
that
thin
atmosphere,
to
ascend
from
D
to
A street,
and
you
were
panting
and
out
of
breath
when
you
got there;
but
you
could
turn
around
and
go
down
again
like
a
house
a-fire—so
to
speak.
The
atmosphere
was
so
rarified,
on
account
of
the
great
altitude,
that
one's blood
lay
near
the
surface always,
and
the
scratch
of
a
pin
was
a
disaster
worth
worrying about,
for
the
chances
were
that
a
grievous
erysipelas
would
ensue.
But
to
offset this,
the
thin
atmosphere
seemed
to
carry
healing
to
gunshot wounds,
and
therefore,
to
simply shoot
your
adversary
through
both
lungs
was
a
thing
not
likely
to
afford
you
any
permanent
satisfaction,
for
he
would
be
nearly
certain
to
be
around
looking
for
you
within
the
month,
and
not
with
an
opera
glass, either.
From
Virginia's airy
situation
one
could
look
over
a vast, far-reaching
panorama
of
mountain
ranges
and
deserts;
and
whether
the
day
was
bright
or
overcast,
whether
the
sun
was
rising
or
setting,
or
flaming
in
the
zenith,
or
whether
night
and
the
moon
held
sway,
the
spectacle
was
always
impressive
and
beautiful.
Over
your
head
Mount
Davidson lifted
its
gray
dome,
and
before
and
below
you
a
rugged
canyon
clove
the
battlemented
hills,
making
a
sombre
gateway
through
which
a soft-tinted
desert
was
glimpsed,
with
the
silver
thread
of
a
river
winding
through
it, bordered
with
trees
which
many
miles
of
distance
diminished
to
a
delicate
fringe;
and
still
further
away
the
snowy
mountains
rose
up
and
stretched
their
long
barrier
to
the
filmy horizon—far
enough
beyond
a
lake
that
burned
in
the
desert
like
a fallen sun,
though
that, itself,
lay
fifty
miles
removed.
Look
from
your
window
where
you
would,
there
was
fascination
in
the
picture.
At
rare
intervals—but
very
rare—there
were
clouds
in
our
skies,
and
then
the
setting
sun
would
gild
and
flush
and
glorify
this
mighty
expanse
of
scenery
with
a bewildering
pomp
of
color
that
held
the
eye
like
a
spell
and
moved
the
spirit
like
music.