March 8 and 9 Sunday – Sam, still in Carson City, wrote to William Clagett (Billy) on various subjects and his intent to go to the Esmeralda district “next week”
Dear Billy:
As a good opportunity offers, I have embraced it to send you some legal and letter paper, and a copy of the laws. I send the pencils, pens, &c., because I don’t know whether you have run out of such things or not. If you have got plenty of stationery, maybe Sam [Montgomery] and Tom [Smith] have not. I also send you some more envelops. The Colonel proposes to start to-morrow or next day.
I hunted up Fall, but he would not sell me his ground for Sam. Then I told him he had better go to Unionville and “nurse” a good thing while he had it. He said he would.
John Kinney has gone to the States, via San Francisco.
Your Father has purchased the Keokuk “Journal,”—so he will hardly come out here this year—hey?
I have heard from several reliable sources that Sewall will be here shortly, and has sworn to whip me on sight. Now what would you advise a fellow to do?—take a thrashing from the son-of-a-bitch, or bind him over to keep the peace? I don’t see why he should dislike me. He is a yankee,—and I naturaly love a yankee.
I stole a bully dog the other day—but he escaped again. Look out for one. That other dog, over whose fate a dark mystery hangs, has not revisited the glimpses of the moon yet, in this vicinity, although he has been seen in a certain locality—whereof it would be Treason to speak. D—n the beast—does he intend to haunt us like a nightmare for the balance of his days?
The Governor’s Cavalcade left for California the other day. Some of the retainers I will name: the Governor and Gov. Roop, Boundary-line Commissioners; accompanied by Mr. [George] Gillson, Mr. [John] Kinkead and others—and followed by Bob Howland, Chief Valet de Chambre to His Excellency, and Bob Haslan, Principal Second Assistant ditto ditto. What do you make of that, for instance? There were quite a number in the Cavalcade, and Haslan brought up the rear on a mule. Bob Howland expects to sell some ground in San Francisco.
You say the “Annie Moffett Company”—isn’t that the name of the ledge, too? I hope so.
I would like to write you some news, Billy, but unfortunately, I haven’t got any to write. I couldn’t write it, though, if I had, for I am in a bad humor, and am only writing anyhow, because I hate to lose the opportunity. You see I have been playing cards with Bunker, and the d—d old Puritan wouldn’t play fairly—and I made injurious remarks and jumped the game.
I send a St. Louis Republican for Tom. There is something in it from “Ethan Spike.”
Enclosed please find Mr. Cox’s Speech.
If you and Dad intend coming down, Billy, with the wagon, don’t fail to write and say about what time you will be here. I leave for Esmeralda next week some time, with Major General BBBunker, L.L.D., Esq—provided “nothing happens.” But this do happen in this country, constantly. In fact, it is about the d—est country in the world for things to happen in. My calculations never come out right. However, as I said before, We May be Happy Yet.
Remember me kindly to the boys—not forgetting “the old man,” of course. I have labored hard to get a copy of “Fannie Hill” for him to read, but I have failed sadly.
Sunday.—I intended to finish this letter to-day, but I went to church—and busted! For a man who can listen for an hour to Mr. White, the whining, nasal, Whangdoodle preacher, and then sit down and write, without shedding melancholy from his pen as a ducks water slides from a duck’s back, is more than mortal. Or less. I fear I shall not feel cheerful again until the beans I had for dinner begin to operate.
Which reminds me of that afternoon in Sacramento cañon, when I gained such a brilliant victory over Oliver and Mr. Tillou, and drove them in confusion and dismay from behind my batteries.
We have not heard from home for some time, and I have only written two letters to St Louis since I arrived here.
John D. Winters has sold out his interest in the Ophir for a hundred thousand dollars.
J. L. G. and his father are still flourishing in Chinatown. Mr. Bunker saw them there the other day.
Tom Nye is down at Fort Churchill. Write, at your earlies[t] convenience.
Your sincere friend
Sam L. Clemens [MTL 1: 169; also drop-in].
Notes: Isaac N. Roop (1822-1869) provisional governor of N. Terr (1859-60); The Colonel was John B. Onstine; John D. Winters (1830-1900), member of the 1861 territorial House of Representatives; Samuel S. Cox (1824-1889)’ J.L.G. and father are unidentified. See notes on MTPO for this letter which give many details.