“No, no—­my books and my poor schoolchildren are enough for me.”

He died suddenly and alone.  He had been out one windy night visiting the poor, came home sick, and before morning was in that world of spirits which was so real to his faith, and for which he longed.  He left his little fortune of a few thousand dollars to the poor of his native village of Posen, in Poland.  And thus passed from California-life Dr. Julius Eckman, the Rabbi.

My Mining Speculation.

“I Believe the Lord has put me in the way of making a competency for my old age,” said the dear old Doctor, as he seated himself in the armchair reserved for him at the cottage at North Beach.

“How?” I asked.

“I met a Texas man today, who told me of the discovery of an immensely rich silver mining district in Deep Spring Valley, Mono county, and he says he can get me in as one of the owners.”

I laughingly made some remark expressive of incredulity.  The honest and benignant face of the old Doctor showed that he was a little nettled.

“I have made full inquiry, and am sure this is no mere speculation.  The stock will not be put upon the market, and will not be assessable.  They propose to make me a trustee, and the owners, limited in number, will have entire control of the property.  But I will not he hasty in the matter.  I will make it a subject of prayer for twenty-four hours, and then if there be no adverse indications I will go on with it.”

The next day I met the broad-faced Texan, and was impressed by him as the old Doctor had been.

It seemed a sure thing.  An old prospector had been equipped and sent out by a few gentlemen, and he had found outcroppings of silver in a range of hills extending not less than three miles.  Assays had been made of the ores, and they were found to be very rich.  All the timber and waterpower of Deep Spring Valley had been taken up for the company under the general and local preemption and mining laws.  It was a big thing.  The beauty of the whole arrangement was that no “mining sharps” were to be let in; we were to manage it ourselves, and reap all the profits.

We went into it, the old Doctor and I, feeling deeply grateful to the broad-faced Texan, who had so kindly given us the chance.  I was made a trustee, and began to have a decidedly business feeling as such.  At the meetings of “the board,” my opinions were frequently called for, and were given with great gravity.  The money was paid for the shares I had taken, and the precious evidences of ownership were carefully put in a place of safety.  A mill was built near the richest of the claims, and the assays were good.  There were delays, and more money was called for, and sent up.  The assays were still good, and the reports from our superintendent were glowing.  “The biggest thing in the history of California mining,” he wrote; and when the secretary read his letter to the board, there was a happy expression on each face.