The reference in the foregoing letter to Esmeralda has to do with mining plans.  He was beginning to be mildly interested, and, with his brother Orion, had acquired “feet” in an Esmeralda camp, probably at a very small price—­so small as to hold out no exciting prospect of riches.  In his next letter he gives us the size of this claim, which he has visited.  His interest, however, still appears to be chiefly in his timber claim on Lake Bigler (Tahoe), though we are never to hear of it again after this letter.

To Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis: 

Carsoncity, Oct. 25, 1861.  My dear sister,—­I have just finished reading your letter and Ma’s of Sept. 8th.  How in the world could they have been so long coming?  You ask me if I have for gotten my promise to lay a claim for Mr. Moffett.  By no means.  I have already laid a timber claim on the borders of a lake (Bigler) which throws Como in the shade—­and if we succeed in getting one Mr. Jones, to move his saw-mill up there, Mr. Moffett can just consider that claim better than bank stock.  Jones says he will move his mill up next spring.  In that claim I took up about two miles in length by one in width—­and the names in it are as follows:  “Sam.  L Clemens, Wm. A. Moffett, Thos.  Nye” and three others.  It is situated on “Sam Clemens Bay”—­so named by Capt.  Nye—­and it goes by that name among the inhabitants of that region.  I had better stop about “the Lake,” though, —­for whenever I think of it I want to go there and die, the place is so beautiful.  I’ll build a country seat there one of these days that will make the Devil’s mouth water if he ever visits the earth.  Jim Lampton will never know whether I laid a claim there for him or not until he comes here himself.  We have now got about 1,650 feet of mining ground —­and if it proves good, Mr. Moffett’s name will go in—­if not, I can get “feet” for him in the Spring which will be good.  You see, Pamela, the trouble does not consist in getting mining ground—­for that is plenty enough—­but the money to work it with after you get it is the mischief.  When I was in Esmeralda, a young fellow gave me fifty feet in the “Black Warrior”—­an unprospected claim.  The other day he wrote me that he had gone down eight feet on the ledge, and found it eight feet thick—­and pretty good rock, too.  He said he could take out rock now if there were a mill to crush it—­but the mills are all engaged (there are only four of them) so, if I were willing, he would suspend work until Spring.  I wrote him to let it alone at present—­because, you see, in the Spring I can go down myself and help him look after it.  There will then be twenty mills there.  Orion and I have confidence enough in this country to think that if the war will let us alone we can make Mr. Moffett rich without its ever costing him a cent of money or particle of trouble.  We shall lay plenty of claims for him, but if they never pay him anything, they will never cost him anything,