Samuel Clemens, miner, remained but a brief time in Carson City—­only long enough to arrange for a new and more persistent venture.  He did not confess his Humboldt failure to his people; in fact, he had not as yet confessed it to himself; his avowed purpose was to return to Humboldt after a brief investigation of the Esmeralda mines.  He had been paying heavy assessments on his holdings there; and, with a knowledge of mining gained at Unionville, he felt that his personal attention at Aurora might be important.  As a matter of fact, he was by this time fairly daft on the subject of mines and mining, with the rest of the community for company.

His earlier praises of the wonders and climate of Tahoe had inspired his sister Pamela, always frail, with a desire to visit that health-giving land.  Perhaps he felt that he recommended the country somewhat too highly.

“By George, Pamela,” he said, “I begin to fear that I have invoked a spirit of some kind or other, which I will find more than difficult to allay.”  He proceeds to recommend California as a residence for any or all of them, but he is clearly doubtful concerning Nevada.

Some people are malicious enough to think that if the devil were set at liberty and told to confine himself to Nevada Territory, he would come here and look sadly around awhile, and then get homesick and go back to hell again ....  Why, I have had my whiskers and mustaches so full of alkali dust that you’d have thought I worked in a starch factory and boarded in a flour barrel.

But then he can no longer restrain his youth and optimism.  How could he, with a fortune so plainly in view?  It was already in his grasp in imagination; he was on the way home with it.

I expect to return to St. Louis in July—­per steamer.  I don’t say that I will return then, or that I shall be able to do it—­but I expect to—­you bet.  I came down here from Humboldt, in order to look after our Esmeralda interests.  Yesterday, Bob Howland arrived here, and I have had a talk with him.  He owns with me in the “Horatio and Derby” ledge.  He says our tunnel is in 52 feet, and a small stream of water has been struck, which bids fair to become a “big thing” by the time the ledge is reached—­sufficient to supply a mill.  Now, if you knew anything of the value of water here, you would perceive at a glance that if the water should amount to 50 or 100 inches, we wouldn’t care whether school kept or not.  If the ledge should prove to be worthless, we’d sell the water for money enough to give us quite a lift.  But, you see, the ledge will not prove to be worthless.  We have located, near by, a fine site for a mill, and when we strike the ledge, you know, we’ll have a mill- site, water-power, and payrock, all handy.  Then we sha’n’t care whether we have capital or not.  Mill folks will build us a mill, and wait for their pay.  If nothing goes wrong, we’ll strike the ledge in June—­and if we do, I’ll be home in July, you know.

He pauses at this point for a paragraph of self-analysis—­characteristic and crystal-clear.