WHAT'S THE MATTER?

proprietors of building sites, merchants, shopkeepers, traders, and speculators are manyledgers under the all-powerful stimulus of interest. For myself, I have my private views, But my public sentiments assimilate with those of the many-ledgers. It is the best policy for a man who doesn't own a foot in a single ledge. If the mines in Mexico and South America are confined to one well-defined vein, as geologists contend, what does that prove? Simply that nature adopts certain specific laws in Mexico and South America. If trees grow there with their branches and fruits in the air, is it any reason why trees should not grow in Washoe with their branches and fruits in the ground? Silver mines in Mexico and South America may have one way of doing things, and silver mines in Washoe another. I am disposed to go it strong, therefore, on the many-ledge theory. I believe there are many ledges in Washoe. At all events there are many companies based upon ledges.

This complication of adverse interests gives rise to endless litigation. The records of the courts are crowded with suits, and every suit breeds another brood of suits. The halls of jus

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tice are crammed with litigants. Companies are pitted against companies, and individuals against individuals. Uncle Sam, who owns all the mines, magnanimously stands aloof and enjoys the fight over his own property. The whole district is racked with litigation. It is sapping the vitals of the community. There is money enough spent in law to build the Pacific Railroad. The whole trouble arises from the superabundance of legal counsel. Whenever a lawyer in California, from misfortune, incompetency, whisky, or any other cause, falls into a depression of finances, he straight-away gathers up his books and starts for the silver regions. Acute by profession, he scents the remedy from afar. These gentlemen must have silver: they can't help it-must have it; and to have it must have litigation. evils therefore beset the Washoeites-many ledges and many lawyers. Either they must be everlastingly in court and submit to final exhaustion of all their precious ores, or pay these needy members of the bar what the world owes them, and let them travel. I don't doubt they will go somewhere else in the vicinity of silver. Pay them fifty thousand dollars apiece, and then raise a fund for the subsistence of absentees, and pay them for staying away. I venture to say such a course would obviate the first grand trouble. After that a court might be organized consisting of three Digger Indians. Keep them from fire-water, and my word for it, their decisions would be as satisfactory as any rendered by the most learned judges. It is true they might be corrupted by whisky; red blankets and cotton shirts might cause them to waver from the paths of rectitude; a string of beads to some favorite squaw might affect the eye or the understanding of the most stolid Digger; a bucketful of "hogadie" might confound the perceptive faculties of the great Winnemucca himself; but human nature must be taken as it is. The highest dignitaries in the land are subject to temptation. The Washoeites complain that their Bench is corrupt; they abuse their judges; hint in pretty strong terms that when a judge receives a heavy bonus of feet for services in the great cause of justice, other parties give more and get it all; in short, they raised such a hubbub last year that the judges resigned in disgust. I don't blame them. It would be impossible for them to satisfy every body. If they are honest menand I have no reason to doubt it-they could render no decision which would not make them unpopular with the disappointed party. What the Washoeites need most is, judges who will be faithfully dishonest and honestly faithless.

So bitter are the feuds resulting from conflicting claims, under the one-ledge and manyledge theories, that a summary method of settling disputes not unfrequently usurps the func tions of the Judiciary. An enterprising class of the community, known as the "roughs," may be relied upon in any emergency. reasonable consideration these accommodating gentlemen will espouse any cause, however hopeless in the eye of the law. Their habits of life

For a

the noise of the picks through the thin layer of rock. It was a very curious and impressive scene on our side; and doubtless was equally so on the other. The whole available space was not over six or eight feet in width by the same in height, and what range there might be through the adjoining tunnels or drifts which were wrapt in darkness. A faint flickering halo from sundry candles, pasted with sticky mud against the rocks, dimly lighted the walls and casings of the mine, and shed a ghastly hue over the faces of our fighting men, to whom I was personally introduced by the Superintendent. Their features were in admirable keeping with the place and

the occasion. One man had the end of his nose bitten off; another was ornamented with a magnificent scar across his cheek; a third had lost three fingers; a fourth was pitted with buckshot; and so on. All men of mark; all notoriously crack fellows in their way, which was evidently, from the variety of pistols and knives with which they were garnished, a very bloody way. I was especially pleased with a wax-faced gentleman, with a square chin, a pig-eye, and a stove-pipe hat. He was "on it" or I greatly misjudged his countenance.

"Gentlemen," said I, with all the deference due to such famous characters, "I see you're on it."

THE "ROUGus."

"You bet," was the answer.

I ventured to inquire.

"Oh, any time, when they bust through that there wall. Guess they ain't eager for it. Likely as not they'll fizzle."

I made no comment upon this suggestion; but personally had no objection to the fizzle. It was not a pleasant place to be caught in a bloody affray. Balls fired through a tunnel only six or eight feet square, or into a drift with a solid bank of rock at the end, would be likely to hit something. I was not interested to the extent of a leg or an arm, much less a foot.

As if to keep up a pleasant state of expectancy, blasts were let off now and then, causing a startling concussion of the air and a perceptible tremor of the earth. It is due to the cause of humanity to say that the rival factions always notified each other by certain signals when they were about to let off a blast, having no desire to take a snap judgment upon their enemies.

Between the picking and blasting, darkness and gunpowder, pistols, knives, and bloody conversation, unkempt miners and ferocious roughs, with a sprinkling of grit from overhead and the plashing of water underfoot, I think the most rigid casuist will hold me blameless for whispering to the Superintendent, "This is a devil of a queer place; let's get out of it. Don't you

smell brimstone?"

Unfortunately for the interest of my sketch the fight did not come off. The difficulty, I believe, was referred to one of those honest gentlemen in whom every body has confidence until his decision is made known. He may be a member of the bar or a member of the church; his character stands unimpeached before he makes his report. As a referee he is bound to decide according to the law and the evidence. But his report makes an explosion. Law and evidence suit some people and don't suit others, and referees have different modes of interpretation. It is a thankless, though it may be a profitable business. I will not say that the decision in the present case was not according to the law and the evidence; but it surprised me nevertheless. A friend of mine, who claimed to be in the Legitimate, sold out after he heard the decision. He would have made money had he sold out before.

The American is not the only race subject to trouble in the various operations of mining. Even the Celestials, who occupy the neglected nooks and corners of the mineral regions, have their share of adversity and disaster in the pursuit of wealth. Whenever they strike a good claim it belongs to some white man. He may never have seen or heard of it, or may have abandoned it and gone elsewhere; but if "John Chinaman" strikes it rich he comes back or sends his partner to take possession. The Digger Indians are learning the great lesson of civilization from their American benefactors. Driven from gulch to cañon in their own country, they see that "Melican man" claims mines

the Chinese because "Chinaman squaw; no kill Injun like Melican man!" They seem to look upon the Celestials as a base imitation of the Indian race, without the redeeming quality of bravery. Hence the Diggers are singularly bitter in their hostility to these miserable interlopers, and tax them without mercy, or kill them whenever they get a chance. One Indian chief and his band made several thousand dollars last summer by following up the Chinese and compelling them, by force of arms, to pay taxes for the privilege of working the mines. Poor John is taxed by the State, by the Government, by every white pilgrim who jogs along with pick and shovel, by his own people, and finally, by the Digger Indians. Sometimes he rouses himself up to a spirit of resistance against the exorbitant claims of the latter, and then ensues a scene to which no pencil save that of Hogarth could do justice.

The aboriginal tax-collectors come along stealthily-one, two, or three at a time, till ten or a dozen of them are gathered about the camp of the Celestials. Their arms consist of a bow and arrow, and a rude club or a spear; and their costume is seldom more than a deer-skin, or a ragged old blanket, with the merest pretense of a cincture round the loins. A wretched tatterdemalion set they are-poor, thriftless, and dirty; in no respect like the warrior chiefs of Mr. Fenimore Cooper, or the braves of the Hon. Augustus Murray. Still there is fight in them if pushed to the bank. Their contempt for the Chinese is sublime. Having no knowledge of the Mongolian language, it becomes necessary that they should speak English, which is the available means of communication with the trespassers.

"Say, John!" says the Digger Chief, "what you do here?"

Who you?"

"Me workee. "Me Piute Cappen. Me kill plenty Melican man. Dis my lan'. You payee me, John. No payee me, gottam, me killee you!" "No got-velly poor Chinaman; how muchee you want?"

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"Fifty dollar."

"No got fifty dollar-velly poor. Melican man he catchee Chinaman; he makee Chinaman pay; no got fifty dollar. Melican man—'

"D-n Melican man! me no sabbe Melican man! Me Piute Cappen. S'pose you no payee me fifty dollar me killee you!"

Generally the money is paid, after many protests and various lamentations; but where the Digger force is small, and the Celestials numerous, the cry of battle is raised, and then comes the tug of war. When Greek meets Greek the spectacle may be very impressive; when Chinaman meets Digger it is absolutely gorgeous! Negotiation has been prolonged without issue; the English language has been exhausted; the fight is inevitable. From every hole in the earth the valiant Celestials rush forth, armed

with picks and shovels, tin pans, platters, gongs, | and kettles-every thing that can be made available for warlike purposes in the emergency of the moment. They beat their pans, blow their wind instruments, shriek, shout, laugh, make horrible faces, and perform the most frightful antics, in the hope of striking terror into the ranks of the foe. In every conceivable way they tax invention to make themselves hideous; poke their tongues out; double themselves up; hop on one leg; squat on the ground like frogs; rush furiously toward the enemy, and furiously retire. The hills and forests resound with their

barbarous cries and the deafening clatter of their tin kettles and gongs. Meantime the Diggers are not idle. Adepts in the artifices of barbarian war, they are in no degree intimidated by the ferocious demonstrations of the enemy. A pistol or a shot-gun has its terrors, but they are up to the flimsy substitute of loud noises and empty threats. While the foe is thus wasting his vital powers upon the air, Digger goes in with his clubs, spears, or bows and arrows. A few pricks of the barbed instruments generally ends the battle-save when the Celestial party can muster up an old shot-gun or a

DIGGERS COLLECTING TAXES.