The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1888-08-30
The Story of a Nugget.


vet cushion in the cabinet which oc-
cupies an alcove in the library OF one
of the most elegantly appointed and
substantial mansions of San Fran
cisco, there is a memento of the
California offorty years ago-a silent
reminder of the days when the yellow
idol, whose shrine was in the old river
beds and along the rocky mountain
sides of the new land, counted his
fiercely eager devotees by the thou
sand.
Several days ago business matters
called an Alta representative to the
residence in question and necessitated
a lengthy interview with the genial
gentleman whose home it is. The
reporter had risen to go when his eye
CHANGED to catch a dull, yellow gleam
from a glass-covered case close at
hand. Another glance disclosed as
the object which had attracted at
tention solid, massive nugget, that
bore every appearance of being vir-
gin gold, and that certainly must
have weighed enough to make it's
value seem q small fortune to the
average man. Considering that peo-
pie, even wealthy ones, do not, as a
general rule, select such articles for
bric-a-brac ornaments, curiosity was
pardonable, and the reporter asked,
with quasi-apology for his inquisi-
tiveness: "Would you mind telling
me, Mr., why and how you chose
that monster nugget for the place of
honor in your cabinet?'
The response to the interrogatory
was delayed for q moment as the
nuggets possessor mused in silence.
"Well, it is not q story that 1 often tell,
because it makes me live over again
during the days that were too often
bitter to make pleasant recollections,
but I'll waive my scruples this time,
young man, and tell you alittle piece
out of my life that that lump of gold
was connected with. Sit down again
and take a cigar and I'll satisfy your
curiosity. Only WANT it understood
that if you make yarn out of this
(as you probably will) you call no
Names"
The condition imposed was not OBJ
noxious and the reporters assent toit
was willingly accorded. Mr.-,who
is, by the way, one of this city's old
est and best known residents, a gen.
uine pioneer, now rich, respected, and
honored, settled himself for a COM
Portable talk, and thus began:
''You most likely know what mot
California in the good old times as
they call them. We were the repre-
tentatives of nearly every grade and
condition of society. Scions of the
bluest blood aristocracy rubbed
shoulders with gamblers and thieves
from the slums; white-handed pro-
fessional men, doctors, lawyers and
clergymen swung their picks and
rocked their cradles in the same claim
with burly roughs who couldn't
read nor write. l was a healthy
young chap; had been nicely brought
up, was fairly well educated, and was
used to better pickinsg; but q rowing
strain in my blood, and a paternal
purse that refused, from necessity, to
respond any longer to my sometimes
heavy demands, were responsible for
my coming out here.
Passing over the first few months,
in which learned what faro and
monte were, at an expense that left
me absolutely without cent in the
world, I'll begin with the time when l
drifted somehow up to Carter's Bend,
on the North Fork of Feather River.
When walked into the place 1 was
the dustiest-looking out-at-elbow-
tramp that ever trudged a california
road-dead broke, not enough dust
left to buy short drink, no tools to
work with and desperately hungry.
But the boys were too open-hearted
in those days to let Il poor fellow
starve, and was as happy as king
that night after I'd stuffed myself
with fried bacon and pancakes and
rolled myself up in an old army
blanket in the corner of q good-na-
tured miners shanty. Next day the
boys 'chipped in and gave me enough
of an outfit to make work possible.
The diggings were new, and I
had no difficulty in getting
claim that at least paid for my
daily necessities. Two or three weeks
later 1 struck it rich and took out
enough the first day to make me be-
gin to think of home and a big bank
account some day soon. l was only
a youngster, and had worked myself
sick already, and l was fool enough
to tell all over camp about my good
luck. Early the next morning l
started for my hole and found it had
been jumped The two roughs who
were profiting by my find were not
disposed to be at all gracious, and,
in a word, was soon lying on the
ground with my head split open with
q blow from a pick handle.
"When l came to my senses l was
in the cabin of a queer old fellow who
had been more than commonly civil
to me before. The effects of the
thrashing l had received and my
previously weakened and exhausted
condition, left me an easy prey to
the fever that followed. For. three
weary months Jim (Jim Willis was
my benefactor's name) nursed me as
though / were his own child. He
even fed me with his own hand, and
when was at the worst for days and
days he left his work untouched and
sat by me, bathing my poor
aching head. Twice he rode
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