It kept on raining and storming, and they did not go back. A few days later a letter from Steve Gillis made Clemens decide to return to San Francisco. With Jim Gillis and Dick Stoker he left Angel's and walked across the mountains to Jackass Hill in the snow-storm--"the first I ever saw in California," he says in his notes.
In the mean time the rain had washed away the top of the pan of earth they had left standing on the hillside, and exposed a handful of nuggets- pure gold. Two strangers, Austrians, had come along and, observing it, had sat down to wait until the thirty-day claim notice posted by Jim Gillis should expire. They did not mind the rain--not with all that gold in sight--and the minute the thirty days were up they followed the lead a few pans farther and took out--some say ten, some say twenty, thousand dollars. In either case it was a good pocket. Mark Twain missed it by one pail of water. Still, it is just as well, perhaps, when one remembers that vaster nugget of Angel's Camp--the Jumping Frog. Jim Gillis always declared, "If Sam had got that pocket he would have remained a pocket-miner to the end of his days, like me."
In Mark Twain's old note-book occurs a memorandum of the frog story--a mere casual entry of its main features:
Coleman with his jumping frog--bet stranger $50--stranger had no frog, and C. got him one:--in the mean time stranger filled C.'s frog full of shot and he couldn't jump. The stranger's frog won.
It seemed unimportant enough, no doubt, at the time; but it was the nucleus around which was built a surpassing fame. The hills along the Stanislaus have turned out some wonderful nuggets in their time, but no other of such size as that.
L
BACK TO THE TUMULT
FROM the note-book:
February 25. Arrived in Stockton 5 P.m. Home again home again at the Occidental Hotel, San Francisco--find letters from Artemus Ward asking me to write a sketch for his new book of Nevada Territory Travels which is soon to come out. Too late--ought to have got the letters three months ago. They are dated early in November.
He was sorry not to oblige Ward, sorry also not to have representation in his book. He wrote explaining the circumstance, and telling the story of his absence. Steve Gillis, meantime, had returned to San Francisco, and settled his difficulties there. The friends again took up residence together.
Mark Twain resumed his daily letters to the Enterprise, without further annoyance from official sources. Perhaps there was a temporary truce in that direction, though he continued to attack various abuses--civic, private, and artistic--becoming a sort of general censor, establishing for himself the title of the "Moralist of the Main." The letters were reprinted in San Francisco and widely read. Now and then some one had the temerity to answer them, but most of his victims maintained a discreet silence. In one of these letters he told of the Mexican oyster, a rather tough, unsatisfactory article of diet, which could not stand criticism, and presently disappeared from the market. It was a mistake, however, for him to attack an Alta journalist by the name of Evans. Evans was a poet, and once composed an elegy with a refrain which ended:
Gone, gone, gone-- Gone to his endeavor; Gone, gone, gone, Forever and forever.
In the Enterprise letter following its publication Mark Twain referred to this poem. He parodied the refrain and added, "If there is any criticism to make on it I should say there is a little too much 'gone' and not enough 'forever.'"
It was a more or less pointless witticism, but it had a humorous quotable flavor, and it made Evans mad. In a squib in the Alta he retaliated:
Mark Twain has killed the Mexican oyster. We only regret that the act was not inspired by a worthier motive. Mark Twain's sole reason for attacking the Mexican oyster was because the restaurant that sold them refused him credit.