_The Outsiders_ had rubbed out their pencil-marks on stock memorandums, and dissipating the written evidence of thousands that had vanished into air, they themselves vanished. It was needless to say any thing to _them_ about copper, they “never had any thing to do with it, beyond a hundred shares or so, which they sold out before the bubble looked like bursting.” Stockdom was desolate, save that a few of the bears showed their teeth, and grinned as furiously as if they had just arrived fresh from the Polar regions, and had brought any quantity of wet blankets with them. Yet they looked as if they would rather than not that any dealer in copper should take hold of them. The bulls were more plentiful—looked savage but knowing, but showed no disposition to dash at imaginary enemies in scarlet, having rather a taste left for their friends, the Browns and the Greens, who were urgently entreated to “come _in again_, and help sustain the market.” The case was desperate, and desperate remedies were resolved on. It was deemed advisable to “ask _the opinion_ of the directors!” The directors “_have_ no opinion of the stock! They never _had_,” of their own. They trusted to Grubemout, to Uptosnuff, to the Cornish miners. Their geological and mineralogical education, had been shockingly neglected in their youth, and they have verified the fact, by having on their hands, a thousand shares apiece at high prices, by having assisted to sustain the market in the various stages of the experiment. But “they _would_ like to know who were the ‘original’ stockholders of the company who did them the honor to elect them.” Grubemout “thought it of the highest importance that they _should_ know, and as the original book of minutes was up at the mines and as he was going up by the next stage, would write and send them.” It would be, perhaps, as well to give his letter: _Fleeceington, Dec. 10, 18—._