The
stagecoach from Marysville made its usual detour and stopped before the
temporary hotel, express offices, and general store of "Jules'," under
canvas, bark, and the limp leaves of a spreading alder. It deposited a
single passenger,--Miles Hemmingway, of San Francisco, but originally of
Boston,--the young secretary of a mining company, dispatched to report
upon the alleged auriferous value of "Jules'." Of this he had been by
no means impressed as he looked down upon the submerged cabins from the
box-seat of the coach and listened to the driver's lazy recital of
the flood, and of the singularly patient acceptance of it by the
inhabitants.
It was the old story of the southwestern miner's indolence and
incompetency,--utterly distasteful to his northern habits of thought
and education. Here was their old fatuous endurance of Nature's wild
caprices, without that struggle against them which brought others
strength and success; here was the old philosophy which accepted the
prairie fire and cyclone, and survived them without advancement,
yet without repining.
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