LETTER FROM PALMYRA.
COMO, April 5th, 1864.
Our Mill Resting.
VIRGINIA DAILY UNION:--Our mill is at present resting for a few days, until a goodly quantity of ore shall be transported hither from the Whitman mine, sufficient to give it a good start, and keep the stamps busy for a long time to come. In the last long run which this mall had, nothing could surpass the perfection of its working. J. B. Winters, Esq., the superintendent thereof, pronounces it a perfect gem of a mill, not to be beat by anything of its size, and he being a miller of long experience and good repute, his opinion is entitled to much favorable consideration. The Rhode Island mill at Gold Hill may possibly surpass it in some points, but few others can even equal it. The builder of it took great pains with it, and spared no expense in the faithful execution of every portion of the work, in the most substantial and perfect manner. He lost considerable by his contract, but he has shown what he can do in case he should be called upon to build another. He has certainly "got his name up"—some thirty feet high—for at about that elevation, in a conspicuous place in the interior of the mill, in gilded letters, on a little tin sign, announce the following legend: J. S. Akin, Builder, 1863.
The Buckeye Strikes Their Ledge.
The Buckeye Tunnel, of which I spoke in my last, has, since fifteen minutes past ten A. M. on Saturday, assumed quite an important position in the stock market from the fact that on that momentous occasion a very rich ledge became revealed to the gaze of the happy stockholders therein, and the ore is pronounced by all good judges to be very rich indeed. The size of the vein is not ascertained, but soon will be, for this tunnel is one of the few undertakings in this district which have thus far been successfully carried out. And it has only been by steady and industrious application of labor and limited capital. The tunnel is nearly 700 feet in length, and a stream of water runs from it fully sufficient to supply a first class steam mill. The grand trouble in this, as well as in all other districts, consists in the fact that everybody pays assessment on too great a number and variety of feet instead of concentrating their energies and little capital more upon one point. Such policy is ruinous to all who persists in following it, as well as retarding the development of taxable mines, which is the grand desideratum in view of our assuming a State Government.
The Como Sentinel
Will make its first appearance some time next week. It would have appeared sooner, only that in transporting the office over here from Petaluma, the types got most terribly mixed. In fact, a quiet individual belonging to the establishment, and whom they introduced to me as the "devil" thereof, privately informed me that they types were all converted into "pie," which, after all, is not so bad, although rather a singular circumstance that: food for the mind being changed into food for the body. But this person tells me that it is bad, for the "pie" will have to be "distributed"—among the poor miners probably –a charitable idea nevertheless, and not bad at all. I'll help him distribute a portion of it, if it's good. He says it's a "devil of a job"—meaning, probably, a job for the "devil."
All Fools' Day.
"April Fool Day" here was signalized by the usual amount of practical jokes. Numerous letters were received per Express, by various individuals, conveying them the important information that they were April Fools; and among the many other old tricks usual on such occasions, an antiquated hat, covering a big stone, was placed in a plausible position on the sidewalk, inviting the kicks of passers by. A certain attorney of this town did kick it, although he denies it strongly; but several of the boys, who saw him do it, say he did—as well as many others who didn't see him. One thing is certain; he didn't limp after kicking it, and no more he wouldn't if it had broke every toe on his foot. Later in the evening I saw the same attorney vainly wasting matches, one after the other, patiently endeavoring to light a candle which was ingeniously manufactures out of a potato. He, however, was not the only one who experimented with that candle, or that used a cake of soap made out of a potato in washing his hands. On that eventful day, also, one J. D. found a pocket book out in the street, which contained quite a windfall in the shape of a postage stamp, two buttons and a cambric needle. He says he found no other money in it, and we must believe him for, like George Washington, he "will not, cannot tell a lie," although, unlike little G. W., he hasn't got any "little hatchet."