This book is merely a personal narrative, and not a
pretentious history or a philosophical dissertation. It is a
record of several years of variegated vagabondizing, and its
object is rather to help the resting reader while away an idle
hour than afflict him with metaphysics, or goad him with science.
Still, there is information in the volume; information concerning
an interesting episode in the history of the Far West, about
which no books have been written by persons who were on the
ground in person, and saw the happenings of the time with their
own eyes. I allude to the rise, growth and culmination of the
silver-mining fever in Nevada—a curious episode, in some
respects; the only one, of its peculiar kind, that has occurred
in the land; and the only one, indeed, that is likely to occur in
it.
Yes, take it all around, there is quite a good deal of
information in the book. I regret this very much; but really it
could not be helped: information appears to stew out of me
naturally, like the precious ottar of roses out of the otter.
Sometimes it has seemed to me that I would give worlds if I could
retain my facts; but it cannot be. The more I calk up the
sources, and the tighter I get, the more I leak wisdom.
Therefore, I can only claim indulgence at the hands of the
reader, not justification.
