When I was at the zenith of my good luck I was induced to invest in two mining properties in the United States of Columbia, South America. One was an immense silver mining district, the other a great hydraulic proposition with almost fabulous gold-bearing gravel resources. Both were passed upon favorably by the ablest experts that money could hire. The reports were justified by the facts, yet both projects ended in ruinous disaster to me. I was drawn into a much larger investment than I contemplated. As I developed the silver property, the economy of a much larger plant and the ownership of adjacent mineral territory became self-evident. There appeared no element of risk. Silver, after various fluctuations, seemed to have reached a firm level. Financial experts were in accord that the price of the white metal could not possibly go lower, was much more likely to advance than to recede. Even with silver at 80 cents an ounce, the profits on my mining operations would be enormous. I figured to clear such profits that in a few years I would receive back my capital investment and own a property with an earning capacity of millions. In fact, during the period of practical operation these estimates were fully borne out. Then something happened. Without a note of warning to the commercial world, Great Britain closed the mints of India to the coinage of silver. As long as this vast Oriental market was open, the value of silver was secure. When it closed, like the snapping of a trap, a panic followed which did not end until the price was squarely cut in two. I could not produce an ounce of bullion without an actual loss. An immense investment became instantly valueless. Nearly three million dollars vanished into thin air with the scratching of a pen. The hydraulic mining project fared no better. The gold gravel deposit appeared humanly inexhaustible. All the physical conditions seemed favorable. Water had to be brought in a ditch for twenty-three miles. Most of the ditch, carrying 10,000 miner’s inches of water, was completed. Then something happened again. For nearly a mile at its upper end the line of the ditch ran along a rather steep hillside of shale foundation. When the surface was broken, the whole mountain seemed to get in motion. Millions of tons slid down, bringing to naught every effort of our engineers. Money, as a rule, will in the end conquer every physical obstacle. But about this time a third thing happened, most serious of all: my funds ran so low that to continue the enterprise further meant an invitation to a final and complete disaster. My fortune was not lost. It is still intact, buried in the mountains of the United States of Colombia. I have no doubt that some adventurous speculator of the future, under happier conditions, will dig it out.