For a long time after one of the great Virginia mines had been incorporated, about fifty feet of the original location were still in the hands of a man who had never signed the incorporation papers.  The stock became very valuable, and every effort was made to find this man, but he had disappeared.  Once it was heard that he was in New York, and one or two speculators went east but failed to find him.  Once the news came that he was in the Bermudas, and straightway a speculator or two hurried east and sailed for Bermuda—­but he was not there.  Finally he was heard of in Mexico, and a friend of his, a bar-keeper on a salary, scraped together a little money and sought him out, bought his “feet” for a hundred dollars, returned and sold the property for $75,000.

But why go on?  The traditions of Silverland are filled with instances like these, and I would never get through enumerating them were I to attempt do it.  I only desired to give, the reader an idea of a peculiarity of the “flush times” which I could not present so strikingly in any other way, and which some mention of was necessary to a realizing comprehension of the time and the country.

I was personally acquainted with the majority of the nabobs I have referred to, and so, for old acquaintance sake, I have shifted their occupations and experiences around in such a way as to keep the Pacific public from recognizing these once notorious men.  No longer notorious, for the majority of them have drifted back into poverty and obscurity again.

In Nevada there used to be current the story of an adventure of two of her nabobs, which may or may not have occurred.  I give it for what it is worth: 

Col.  Jim had seen somewhat of the world, and knew more or less of its ways; but Col.  Jack was from the back settlements of the States, had led a life of arduous toil, and had never seen a city.  These two, blessed with sudden wealth, projected a visit to New York,—­Col.  Jack to see the sights, and Col.  Jim to guard his unsophistication from misfortune.  They reached San Francisco in the night, and sailed in the morning.  Arrived in New York, Col.  Jack said: 

“I’ve heard tell of carriages all my life, and now I mean to have a ride in one; I don’t care what it costs.  Come along.”

They stepped out on the sidewalk, and Col.  Jim called a stylish barouche.  But Col.  Jack said: 

“No, sir!  None of your cheap-John turn-outs for me.  I’m here to have a good time, and money ain’t any object.  I mean to have the nobbiest rig that’s going.  Now here comes the very trick.  Stop that yaller one with the pictures on it—­don’t you fret—­I’ll stand all the expenses myself.”

So Col.  Jim stopped an empty omnibus, and they got in.  Said Col.  Jack: 

“Ain’t it gay, though?  Oh, no, I reckon not!  Cushions, and windows, and pictures, till you can’t rest.  What would the boys say if they could see us cutting a swell like this in New York?  By George, I wish they could see us.”