But if he abandoned gambling in one direction, he took it up in another. In the mining industry he was a plunger, par excellence. I do not mean that he invested recklessly or without mature investigation, but when he once made up his mind, a few millions, more or less, never moved him from his purpose. The broad, liberal way he played the game had more to do with the development of the West than perhaps anything else. Haggin had nothing in common with good fellowship. He was always silent, sober and cold. But under it all he must have had a heart. He was the only one I ever knew who remembered the men who helped to give him wealth. Every man, without exception, who rendered Haggin faithful, efficient service, he made rich. And he was very loyal to his friends. In these days--and other days--when men of power exhaust the energies of their subordinates and then toss them without concern on the scrap pile, like so many sucked-out oranges, and treat their business associates just a shade better, an example such as Haggin gave ought not to be overlooked. George Hearst was probably the greatest natural miner who ever had a chance to bring his talents into play on a large scale. He was not a geologist, had no special education to start with, was not overburdened with book learning, but he had a congenital instinct for mining, just as some other people have for mathematics, music or chess. He was not a man of showy parts, liked the company of a lot of cronies, to whom he was kind and serviceable--when he wasn’t broke himself--was much inclined to take the world easy, but if anyone mentioned mines in his presence, it had the same effect as saying, “Rats!” to a terrier. Hearst became alert and on dress parade in a moment. Hearst made his first big stake on the Comstock Lode, a year after it was uncovered in 1858. He was associated with his cousin, Joe Clark, and William M. Lent. I do not know the exact size of the clean-up, but it must have reached into seven figures. Such an event, in the old days was always made memorable by some kind of a “jamboree.” Now, Joe Clark was a southwestern man, hailing from a section not far from where I originated myself. All of us were inclined to be provincial. For instance, Joe Clark believed that St. Louis was not only the most magnificent but the largest city in the world. He had many heated discussions on the subject and several times backed his opinions with coin. He declared that the Rue de Rivoli was a pale shadow alongside of the glories of Laclede avenue. He swore that St. Louis was bigger than London, more cultured than Athens during the age of Pericles and grander and more picturesque than Babylon, when the hanging gardens were in full bloom.