In the Pinenut mining region of Nevada during the early nineties, rich gold-bearing veins were discovered in the foothills. Coincident with this discovery came the development of placer claims in the beds of the valley streams. There was a tremendous rush of prospectors from neighboring mining towns, and Pinenut became the center of much activity. Unfortunately, it proved to be a superficial bonanza and petered out in a short time. A few fanatics still lingered on, hoping that a sharp pick in hopeful hands would open a new Golconda at an unexpected moment. As Robert H. Davis tells the story, one of the hangers-on had the bad taste to die. It was the custom in new mining camps for the District Recorder to perform the services of the church and to lay to rest those who expired with or without their boots on. The ceremony was the same for both. This particular funeral took place in the dry bed of the creek. A hole six by two by three had been scooped from the gravel. The deceased reposed in a rude coffin. The Recorder, from the Book of Common Prayer, read the service in a solemn voice: “Ye brought nothing into this world and ye shall take nothing out.” The coffin was lowered by horny hands. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Dust to dust!” Reaching down he gathered a handful of dirt and gravel which sifted through his fingers and fell with a rattaplan upon the wooden box. “Ashes to ashes!” But instead of either dust or ashes the gleam of a nugget flashed back from the coffin lid. There it lay, resurrected from eternity while the lamented was being returned to the mould. Without a moment’s hesitation the Recorder dropped his prayer-book, jumped into the grave, heaved the deceased out of the property and exclaiming in a loud voice: “I claim everything seven hundred and fifty feet North and South and six hundred feet East and West. Everybody get off the premises.” He pulled out two six-shooters, cleaned his estate of spectators and put up his location notices without delay. The interment took place the following day in a vegetable garden. § 334 No Trouble to Show Goods Holbrook Blinn, the actor, was playing an engagement in London several years ago. One afternoon he went out to Epsom Downs for the racing. In the crush at the paddock he was addressed by a Cockney of a slinky appearance: “Sye, Guv’ner,” said the stranger, “wouldn’t you like to buy a diamond scarf-pin hat a bargain?” Blinn shook his head and started to move off, but the importuning stranger detained him: “Wyte a bit please, Guv’ner,” he pleaded, in an eager half-whisper; “don’t go yet, you’ll never get another chance like this. Hy pledge you me word of ’onor you won’t regret it if you buys this ’ere pin. Pure w’ite stone and a nobby settin’. Worth twenty quid, if hit’s worth a penny. And yours for four pound cash.” Interested in spite of himself by the insistent one’s eloquence, Blinn said: