University of Virginia Library

“Dear Sir: My object in writing to you is to have you give
me a full history of Nevada. What is the character of its climate?
What are the productions of the earth? Is it healthy?
What diseases do they die of mostly? Do you think it would
be advisable for a man who can make a living in Missouri to
emigrate to that part of the country? There are several of us
who would emigrate there in the spring if we could ascertain to
a certainty that it is a much better country than this. I suppose
you know Joel H. Smith? He used to live here; he lives in
Nevada now; they say he owns considerable in a mine there.
Hoping to hear from you soon, etc., I remain yours, truly,

Dearest William: Pardon my familiarity
—but that name touchingly reminds me of the

loved and lost, whose name was similar. I
have taken the contract to answer your letter,
and although we are now strangers, I feel we
shall cease to be so if we ever become acquainted
with each other. The thought is worthy of
attention, William. I will now respond to
your several propositions in the order in which
you have fulminated them.

Your object in writing is to have me give you
a full history of Nevada. The flattering confidence
you repose in me, William, is only
equaled by the modesty of your request. I
could detail the history of Nevada in five hundred
pages octavo; but as you have never done
me any harm, I will spare you, though it will
be apparent to every body that I would be justified
in taking advantage of you if I were a
mind to. However, I will condense. Nevada
was discovered many years ago by the Mormons,
and was called Carson county. It only
became Nevada in 1861, by act of Congress.
There is a popular tradition that the Almighty
created it; but when you come to see it, William,
you will think differently. Do not let
that discourage you, though. The country
looks something like a singed cat, owing to the

scarcity of shrubbery, and also resembles that
animal in the respect that it has more merits
than its personal appearance would seem to indicate.
The Grosch brothers found the first
silver lead here in 1857. They also founded
Silver City, I believe. Signify to your friends,
however, that all the mines here do not pay
dividends as yet; you may make this statement
with the utmost unyielding inflexibility—
it will not be contradicted from this quarter.
The population of this Territory is about 35,000,
one half of which number reside in the united
cities of Virginia and Gold Hill. However, I
will discontinue this history for the present, lest
I get you too deeply interested in this distant
land, and cause you to neglect your family or
your religion. But I will address you again
upon the subject next year. In the mean time,
allow me to answer your inquiry as to the character
of our climate.

It has no character to speak of, William, and
alas! in this respect it resembles many, ah!
too many chambermaids in this wretched,
wretched world. Sometimes we have the seasons
in their regular order, and then again we
have winter all the summer, and summer all

winter. Consequently, we have never yet come
across an almanac that would just exactly fit
this latitude. It is mighty regular about not
raining, though, William. It will start in here
in November and rain about four, and sometimes
as much as seven days on a stretch;
after that you may loan out your umbrella for
twelve months, with the serene confidence which
a Christian feels in four aces. Sometimes the
winter begins in November and winds up in
June; and sometimes there is a bare suspicion
of winter in March and April, and summer all
the balance of the year. But as a general
thing, William, the climate is good, what there
is of it.

What are the productions of the earth? You
mean in Nevada, of course. On our ranches
here any thing can be raised that can be produced
on the fertile fields of Missouri. But
ranches are very scattering—as scattering, perhaps,
as lawyers in heaven. Nevada, for the
most part, is a barren waste of sand, embellished
with melancholy sage-brush, and fenced
in with snow-clad mountains. But these ghastly
features were the salvation of the land, William;
for no rightly constituted American would

have ever come here if the place had been easy
of access, and none of our pioneers would have
staid after they got here, if they had not felt
satisfied that they could not find a smaller
chance for making a living anywhere else.
Such is man, William, as he crops out in
America.

“Is it healthy?” Yes, I think it is as healthy
here as it is in any part of the West. But never
permit a question of that kind to vegetate in
your brain, William; because as long as Providence
has an eye on you, you will not be likely
to die until your time comes.

“What diseases do they die of mostly?”
Well, they used to die of conical balls and cold
steel, mostly, but here lately erysipelas and the
intoxicating bowl have got the bulge on those
things, as was very justly remarked by Mr.
Rising last Sunday. I will observe, for your
information, William, that Mr. Rising is our
Episcopal minister, and has done as much as
any man among us to redeem this community
from its pristine state of semi-barbarism. We
are afflicted with all the diseases incident to the
same latitude in the States, I believe, with one
or two added and half a dozen subtracted on

account of our superior altitude. However,
the doctors are about as successful here, both
in killing and curing, as they are anywhere.

Now, as to whether it would be advisable for
a man who can make a living in Missouri to
emigrate to Nevada, I confess I am somewhat
mixed. If you are not content in your present
condition, it naturally follows that you would
be entirely satisfied if you could make either
more or less than a living. You would exult in
the cheerful exhilaration always produced by a
change. Well, you can find your opportunity
here, where, if you retain your health, and are
sober and industrious, you will inevitably make
more than a living, and if you don't, you won't.
You can rely upon this statement, William.
It contemplates any line of business except the
selling of tracts. You can not sell tracts here,
William; the people take no interest in tracts;
the very best efforts in the tract line—even with
pictures on them—have met with no encouragement.
Besides, the newspapers have been interfering;
a man gets his regular text or so
from the Scriptures in his paper, along with the
stock sales and the war news, every day now.
If you are in the tract business, William, take

no chances on Washoe; but you can succeed
at any thing else here.

“I suppose you know Joel H. Smith?”
Well—the fact is—I believe I don't. Now isn't
that singular? Isn't it very singular? And he
owns “considerable” in a mine here too. Happy
man! Actually owns in a mine here in Nevada
Territory, and I never even heard of him.
Strange—strange—do you know, William, it is
the strangest thing that ever happened to me?
And then he not only owns in a mine, but
owns “considerable;” that is the strangest part
about it—how a man could own considerable
in a mine in Washoe, and I not know any thing
about it. He is a lucky dog, though. But I
strongly suspect that you have made a mistake
in the name; I am confident you have; you
mean John Smith—I know you do; I know it
from the fact that he owns considerable in a
mine here, because I sold him the property at
a ruinous sacrifice on the very day he arrived
here from over the plains. That man will be
rich one of these days. I am just as well satisfied
of it as I am of any precisely similar instance
of the kind that has come under my notice.
I said as much to him yesterday, and he

said he was satisfied of it also. But he did not
say it with that air of triumphant exultation
which a heart like mine so delights to behold
in one to whom I have endeavored to be a benefactor
in a small way. He looked pensive
awhile, but, finally, says he, “Do you know, I
think I'd a been a rich man long ago if they'd
ever found the d—d ledge?” That was my
idea about it. I always thought, and I still
think, that if they ever do find that ledge, his
chances will be better than they are now. I
guess Smith will be all right one of these centuries,
if he keeps up his assessments—he is a
young man yet. Now, William, I have taken
a liking to you, and I would like to sell you
“considerable” in a mine in Washoe. Let me
hear from you on the subject. Greenbacks at
par is as good a thing as I want. But seriously,
William, don't you ever invest in a
mining stock which you don't know any thing
about; beware of John Smith's experience!

You hope to hear from me soon? Very good.
I shall also hope to hear from you soon, about
that little matter above referred to. Now, William,
ponder this epistle well; never mind the
sarcasm here and there, and the nonsense, but

reflect upon the plain facts set forth, because
they are facts, and are meant to be so understood
and believed.

Remember me affectionately to your friends
and relations, and especially to your venerable
grandmother, with whom I have not the pleasure
to be acquainted—but that is of no consequence,
you know. I have been in your town
many a time, and all the towns of the neighboring
counties—the hotel-keepers will recollect
me vividly. Remember me to them — I
bear them no animosity.