The White Goat and his Country 
In a corner of what is occasionally termed 
“Our Empire of the Northwest,” there lies 
a country of mountains and valleys where, 
until recently, citizens have been few. At the 
present time certain mines, and uncertain 
hopes, have gathered an eccentric population 
and evoked some sudden towns. The names 
which several of these bear are tolerably 
sumptuous: Golden, Oro, and Ruby, for in- 
stance; and in them dwell many colonels and 
judges, and people who own one suit of clothes 
and half a name (colored by adjuncts, such as 
Hurry Up Ed), and who sleep almost any- 
where. These communities are brisk, san- 
guine, and nomadic, full of good will and 
crime; and in each of them you will be likely 
to find a weekly newspaper, and an editor who 
is busy writing things about the neighboring 
editors. The flume slants down the hill bear- 
ing water to the concentrator; buckets unex- 
pectedly swing out from the steep pines into 
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