[Louise M. Palmer, How We Live in Nevada, The Overland Monthly, May 1869]

 

1869.]  HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.            457

 

HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.

 

            HOW often must I declare that Nevada is not what it was when Ross Browne visited it, and wrote those atrocious, though I doubt not truthful, tales about its mines and mills, and above all its furious Washoe zephyrs ?

            These things were doubtless true then, but "noun avons changé tout cela." Come to Virginia for a season and you shall see.

            John is superintendent of the "Great Bamboozle " now, and is besides a member of the Legislature, so of course we move in the best society. I spent a week with him in Carson a little while ago—when they were attempting to pass a bill by which a wife might insure her husband's life without his knowledge or consent. The bill did not pass, though fair notes from fair ladies entreated the suffrages of the honorable senators. They were bribed also by the promise of a ball—a ball for the benefit of the church—but one of the senators re-

458      HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.         [May,

marked that those " sacred dances " had already impoverished two Legislatures, and so the sapient body refused to be thus beguiled. But the "best society" gave us some excellent dinners, and placed their fastest teams at our disposal.

            The roads were not good, but in Nevada horses are not expected to be particular about the state of the roads over which they travel, and so one day we drove over to Washoe Valley to see the palatial residence of a man who was created a millionaire in the early days—now six or seven long years ago—and who died in poverty some eight or nine months since. Poor fellow, he is buried behind the house which stands as his monument and that of the wild speculations and excitements amid which this young State was born.

            In its present condition it is emblematical of the unsettled and unfinished   state of the country—a speck of civilization and grandeur dropped upon illimitable waste of savagery. Behind it is the quarried mountain whence it sprang, and before it the beautiful lake, which lies like a silver horse-shoe dropped upon fields of snow. In summer time this valley is most lovely, surrounded as it is by the highest peaks of the Sierra Nevadas. Its meadows are of an emerald green ; acres of wheat and barley sway in the gentle breeze, and yonder, where the long bridge spans the dark tule bed, bloom thousands of yellow water lilies.

            I am not sorry the mills are mostly idle here ; they should not with their  clangor have invaded this peaceful spot. They have scared the fishes from the waters and the wild fowl from the sedges. Let them perish.      

            You see that great frowning mountain which lies at the back of the Ophir Company's deserted house and reduction works ? See how a slice has been cleft from its side as if by a giant's weapon. Tradition says there was frightful havoc when that mile or two of land slid into the gorge below. There used to be an emigrant trail there, and of all the train that was passing at the hour of the slide, not one was afterwards seen.

            If you would luxuriate in mountain grandeur go as I once did to the summit of that mountain. Ride through the cañon to the foot of the ascent, and tell me if you ever before saw such beautiful cascades, such vivid tufts of green, and above all such lovely flowers as grow by the clear waters, or high in the clefts of the almost inaccessible wall upon your right and left.  Leaving your horses at the saw-mill at the foot of the mountain, or perhaps at one of woodchoppers' huts, you will proceed slowly, and with many a backward slide, to the two lakes which lie like gems half-way up the ascent.

            Do not look back, but going around the mountain when far above the pines and chaparral, and upon the very summit of the bleak rocks, look around you that the full magnificence of the scene may burst at once upon the senses.

            Hundreds of feet below you the white clouds of morning are floating, and through this misty veil is seen the sun-filled valley, bearing upon its bosom the horse-shoe lake — the dark fields of tule—the fairer meadows, and the fields of grain. Near the mountain sides rise the smoke of quartz mills, and more pleasantly placed that of white farmhouses. The little towns, too, are beautiful at this distance, and there is something truly grand in the sulphurous steam that arises in yon far-off valley to the left where lie the famous Steamboat Springs.

            Now lift your eyelids higher. Ah, there is the Carson marked by a line of trees, meandering through yonder barren valley.  There is the capital of the State. There Empire, made famous as the scene of Mark Twain's Hopkin's tragedy. There Dayton—and far, far

1869.]  HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.            459

away, Fort Churchill. The envious front of great Mount Davidson hides Virginia, but turn to the scene behind. Behold Lake Tahoe amid the peaks upon peaks that rise to the clear blue sky. Can there be peaceful vales beyond ? Are not those wastes of rock and pines and snow illimitable ? Standing there, it is impossible to think otherwise. But some mundane creature mentions lunch. The cloth is spread upon yon table-like rock. The first bottle of Champagne is spilled as an oblation to the genius of the scene, and presto the claims of hunger rival those of beauty.

            But this excursion must be left for summer days. At present we had better return to Carson, and attend one of the Governor's quiet levees or Mrs. Y's ball.

            Balls and levees are the same in most countries, though perhaps here you will see more ungloved men and bejewelled women than in any other place. You are surprised that Mrs. —, who wore such magnificent diamonds last night, should live in so small and plain a house. But the fact is the house is their own. None but wealthy companies build grand houses here. Persons are not judged by the places they live in. Ladies may envy me for living in the stone mansion of the Great Bamboozle Company, but nevertheless they are not ashamed to receive me in their cloth and paper dwellings.

            You would like to drive home by Empire and Dayton. Now as we drive across the flat you may see the Penitentiary, with the great granite quarry behind it, and the Warm Springs at its side. There is no better place than this for pleasure-seekers to obtain an excellent lunch. Willy-nilly the horses will stop, and we must too. Let me show you the great stone baths in which one may drown if he choose, or might do so whether he desired or no. To escape such a possibility I always sit upon the steps and simply bathe my feet. You may laugh if you please, but it is the safest thing for a poor lone woman to do.

            There the approach to Empire is marked by the great brick house and dilapidated reduction works of the Mexican Company. I could not tell you how many fortunes lie buried in that pile of bricks, those crazy wooden buildings and the masses of machinery they cover. That is another monument of the speculative era. Passing through the village, having on one side a row of drinking saloons, and the inevitable hardware store and express office, and on the other the Carson, blocked with rafts of fire-wood, we come to an embodiment of the life and progress of the present — the fine mill of the Yellow Jacket Company with its busy surroundings. Long after its red walls have faded from sight we hear the dull thud of its stamps. Then comes the long drive across the flat, and over the chalk hill. The roads are execrable, but this mud of winter is far preferable to the dust of summer. Anon as we skirt the river more busy mills are seen, and the road is often blocked by the heavily-laden wagons that are bearing the wealth of the mountains to the powers of the river and the valley. A succession of these powers mark the entrance to Dayton. It is but a town of wooden buildings, enlivened by the red brick Court-house and the Judge's house, but it has gained its meed of fame ; it has given fame to Lyon County, even to the State itself, for the ease—nay, eagerness—with which it grants divorces. It would appear as if there were some hidden law compelling ladies there to obtain divorces from their first husbands and to choose others. The society of Dayton expects its members to act upon this law. It is shocked by the man or woman who is so stupid and blind as to cling to his or her first love —formed in the immaturity of youth.

460      HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.            [May.

            How charmed is Mrs. D to give her first husband, Mr. C, her hand in the dance, while Mr. D leads Mrs. C to the refreshment table and with attentive care procures for her the choicest ice. True, Mr. C may have been a little shocked a year ago, when he discovered that his wife's mode of paying her lawyer for obtaining her divorce was a promise to marry him. But the lawyer's sister was a very pretty girl, and so why should he contest the suit. And as all would live in the same town the children could run back and forth, and although at first it would be a little disagreeable to hear them call Mr. D papa as well as himself; that would manage itself in time.

            And so the C and D families meet at church, and at the entertainments given by each other, or the public, as if no unpleasantness had ever occurred between them. Although churches do not flourish well in Dayton, who can deny a peculiar, if not Christian, forbearance among its people ?

            The drive from Dayton, through Silver City and Gold Hill, to Virginia, is very interesting. There is too much variety upon the road—even if it is not of the pleasantest character—for it ever to become tiresome. First we pass through a narrow cañon which seems at no long period back to have been riven out of the loose and crumbling mountains, and through which flows a turbid stream of slimes and tailings, from the mills that are huddled against its massive walls. There is a draught of air through this cañon, as if it had been blown through a funnel, and in winter time one is glad to emerge into the open country above, and from the hill-tops look down upon the busy life of the cañon. Presently one enters the great gorge in which Silver City is placed. Here a continual scene of activity meets the eye. The clangor of mills and of the forges, of foundries and work-shops, sounds on the ear, and above all the oaths of scores of teamsters, urging forward their straining mules.

            Here as elsewhere there are a goodly number of saloons and drinking shops. One is, indeed, inclined to think that these compose the town, until a glance at the neighboring hills reveals small wooden houses, perched here and there upon apparently almost inaccessible peaks.

            A mile or two devoted to mills and sluices brings us to Gold Hill. A deeper gorge, more houses, a series of mining works, more houses, more dumps of ore, more teams, more drivers, and more oaths. These make up the town, and driving across the divide, whence is obtained a magnificent view of the country we have passed over in our drive, and also a peep of the desert stretching towards Fort Churchill, we enter the city that lies on the slope of great Mount Davidson.

            I must confess I liked Virginia better when the veins of the Comstock were less depleted. The yawning galleries of the Savage — the Chollar-Potosi—the Gould and Curry, the Ophir, and a host of other mines, warn us of land caves, and the tremor of some sudden settling seems to cry to us to flee from the wrath to come. Still, while there is an ounce of silver under its foundation, Virginia will not be forsaken.

            John comes up from the lowest depth of the mine, where he daily runs the risk of suffocation by the extreme heat, besides other chances of death by the caving in of a gallery, or the slipping of the cage, and says this is the dreariest place in the world. He even says some harsher things, which I dare not repeat, and then he changes his clothes, and drives off to a mill in the cañon, or upon the river. I chance to meet him on C Street, in the course of the day, so busily engaged in conning the stock report, or talking " rock " with some eager mill-man, that he does not see me.  However, that makes no difference, as I am

1869.]  HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.            461

going to a lunch party, and afterwards  to call upon a friend, and do a little  shopping.       

            It is curious that we all protest against lunch parties, yet continue to give and  attend them. It is stupid to dress in one's newest silk, and handsomest corals to partake of chicken, creams, ices, and Champagne, with a dozen of one's own sex. Who can help being painfully conscious that each and every one of them have priced the silk at Rosener's, and the corals at Nye's, before they came to one's wearing. It is a trying thing for one's dress to be subjected to the test of its value, not of its adaptability, or becomingness.

            However, there is a consolation for this last grief in knowing that Mrs. L's chicken is no more tender than it should be, and that her cream is not well frozen, and to learn besides that Mrs. R has quite decided to divorce her husband, because he lost a hundred thousand in his last speculation in K. Then, too, one learns the name of the next school marm who is to be married, and that Mr. G has sent away that young lady whom we really would not consent to call upon, and has been introduced into society again by the charming Mrs. Y.

            All these entertaining articles of conversation, perhaps, account for the existence of lunch parties, and, besides, they help to exhibit the superiority of one's cook. Meanwhile John — still busied in discussing "stocks," or "rock," has lunched down town, and has refused one offer to " take a drink," and accepted a dozen. I pass him at the corner on my way home, and the youngest member of the group, of which he is the centre, leaves it and accompanies me home.

            John is generally punctual at dinner ; he knows that Bridget will scorn me and her forty or fifty dollar wage if he is not, and leave us in the lurch. Some times he annoys her by bringing a friend or two, and she threatens to leave, but, however, my humility generally conquers her ruffled dignity. I am very fortunate in this respect, for I have only had five different cooks within the last year.

            After dinner John goes down town, just to see S for a moment, and settle about that little speculation they think of going into. I have heard of games of "poker" and such enormities in connection with these nightly business meetings, and I have a shrewd suspicion of billiards. But John tells me that though the rest of " the fellows " do indulge in those recreations, his hours, torn from his wife and children, are religiously devoted to business.

            John seldom finds time to go to balls and parties, and it used to trouble me at first, especially as I had an unnatural craving for such things, caused by the many evenings John's business calls compelled me to remain alone. But presently I found that the unmarried men were not so closely employed as their encumbered brethren, and that it was their allotted duty to become the escorts of the ladies, while their lawful knights remained in billiard halls and club rooms to battle on their behalf with the fickle goddess fortune.

            This proves an excellent arrangement where one's husband is old or disagreeable, or even where there are no such drawbacks, greatly lessens the chances of domestic feuds, by rendering impossible that familiarity which is said to breed contempt.

            But does it not give rise to scandal ?  Certainly, but people must have some thing to talk about, and Mrs. V's open flirtation forms a pleasant variety to comments upon Mrs. L's dress, or her last failure at the Choral Society. You remember when Nelly Brookes became Mrs. Monkton, and went to Hillston to live, she found that her claim to respect ability could only be established by her admission to the Choral Society. Seemingly, the same wise rule obtains here,

462      HOW WE LIVE IN NEVADA.            [May,

for whether we can sing or not we try to do so on each Thursday night. Most of our attendant young gentlemen fidget through the singing, and only begin to enjoy themselves when dancing commences. In contrast to these parties, which the young men declare to be " neither fish nor flesh," we have club parties and public balls, interspersed with private card and dinner parties. And we are all very gay and fashionable—exhibiting our diamonds and laces to the eyes of rival mine and mill-men's wives and daughters with as much eagerness as would a New York or Parisian belle.

            Have I succeeded in convincing you that times have changed here, since Ross Browne wrote, or Mark Twain taxed his brain for horrible and fictitious locals ? True, the hotels are nearly as bad as ever, and there are quite as many saloons. But a " man for breakfast " is not now to be had every day, and ladies of the demi-monde no longer expect to eat the dinners, and grace the parties of the haut ton.

            We Virginians are a church-loving people, too, and although we do not endeavor to rival Carson in the number of our festivals (for there, it is said, if two strangers are seen to enter, a festival is improvised for their benefit), yet our churches wax rich and strong. Curiously enough, the religion of a family here appears in a great measure to be performed by proxy. Often the children by constant attendance at the well-organized Sunday-school do duty for both parents ; but more frequently still the wife appears both in her own behalf and that of the husband, who is busy underground preparing his stock report, or driving through the cañon, crowded with quartz teams, towards his mill.

            In fact, the entire religious and social life of Nevada is conducted by ladies. The lords of creation are mere moneymaking machines, with apparently no other human attributes than a hasty appreciation of a good dinner, the hope of a fortune, and of a home "at the bay," or in the dimly remembered East.

            But this latter idea is absurd; no man who has ever breathed the air of excitement and speculation of Nevada can live and be content in the quiet of his Eastern birthplace. There is a charm in these rugged mountains which calls him back. It is not love of the glittering dross within them, but the bustle and activity which that dross awakens. There is a saying that one who has been in Nevada can never die until he returns to it.

            We ladies say it is the charm of the cloudless skies that draws us back, after our annual visit to " the bay," and makes us gladly bear the discomforts or horrors of the journey across the rugged Sierras, to reach our homes over the catacombs beneath the streets of Virginia, or high upon the bleak sides of stern Mount Davidson.

            But there are whispers now that there are fairer skies, and hills as rugged, and mines far richer, three hundred miles deeper in the heart of this great State. John has been there and says it 's so. And there are dreadful warnings that this, the city we have built, is to be but of a day ; that Virginia City and the region of the Comstock will yet be but a howling wilderness. But I, and the new railway company, know better than that ; we are not going to sacrifice our household gods, or our certificates of stock, and rush to the wilds of White Pine. We complacently leave the outside barbarians to the snows of Treasure Hill, and declare that until the spring, at least, Virginia will not prove too civilized for us.