With the breaking of the dawn anew paper, filled with news deftly gathered from the four corners of the earth, was ushered into life, teeming with the world’s history of a day, to be discussed by the banker, the politician, and the professional and non-professional classes over the breakfast-table. Each issue was a daily history possessing a soul and character distinctly its own, which collectively made up the policy of one of the greatest journals of New York City. Before high noon of each day a newspaper has generally served its purpose—dies; is a thing of the past, and the record of events found in its columns becomes ancient history. The following morning at ten o’clock, agreeable to his promise, Vance Gilder was at the Murray Hill Hotel, and sent up his card to Ben Bonifield. Instead of receiving in his room, the old gentleman joined Vance in the lobby. He was a typical character—once seen, never forgotten. An old Virginian by birth and education, he still retained the courtly polish of one of the southern aristocracy, which many years of mining life had not been able to wholly destroy. In stature he was fully six feet, and rather portly; his oval face was smooth-shaven, save an [21] iron-gray moustache. He wore his hair rather long, and the rim of his black felt hat was broad as a sombrero. His Prince Albert coat of broad-cloth was of old-time date, and suggested a revival of ancient gentility. “Glad to see yo’, suh; am delighted to meet a son of my old friend, Colonel Gilder.” 0029 He clasped Vance’s hand warmly, and his face was full of sympathy as he referred to the recent information he had received concerning Mr. Gilder’s death. They [22] soon found seats in a retired corner of the lobby, and after assuring Vance that he had entirely recovered from his recent illness, the old gentleman plunged into business. “Yo’ know, of cou’se, that yo’r father owned a one-half interest in Gray Rocks?” “No, I was not aware of the fact until your daughter named it to me yesterday,” replied Vance. “Yo’ su’prise me, suh, yo’ really do,” said the old miner, “but it is true, nevertheless, and the deed is on record; and what is mo’, suh, Gray Rocks is destined to be the richest gold mine in Idaho. Yo’ see, I have been workin’ away on Gray Rocks for seven years—kep’ right at it, winter an’ summer, and while I have not ‘struck it’ yet, I am positive, suh, that if I had a little mo’ money to push the work, my most sanguine expectations would be mo’ than re’lized. We are now on the 200 foot level, but it seems, suh, it is not deep enough. A most wonderful showin’, in my opinion, suh, will be made when the 300 foot level is reached, and we have cross-cut into the vein.” “I am not very well versed in regard to mining, in fact know next to nothing about it, but of course, as I am a half owner in a gold mine, I am naturally interested in having it developed.”