Going to Meet the Devil

Mark Twain found himself in a hilarious predicament in a Virginia City mine. He had decided to go mining as the result of a dare.

It was friend and fellow writer Dan DeQuille, who dared him to try his luck once more as a miner. Known for his mischievous nature, DeQuille couldn’t resist challenging Twain to step out of his new-found comfort and experience the gritty reality of mining as he had in his short-lived younger days.

With a mischievous grin, DeQuille approached Twain and said, “I bet you can’t last a day in the mines, Twain. Mining for silver is no easy task. Care to prove me wrong?”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Twain accepted the dare, eager to prove his mettle. He donned a weathered hat, rolled his sleeves up, and grabbed a pickaxe.

As Twain ventured into the depths of the Savage Mine, he quickly remembered that mining was far from glamorous. Covered in dirt and sweat, he clumsily swung his pickaxe, accidentally hitting a support beam instead of the rock. The beam creaked and wobbled, threatening to collapse the mine.

“Oh no, I’ve done it now!” Twain said. “This mine is going to come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks!”

“Well, I reckon that’s one way to make an entrance, Mr. Twain,” one miner said. “You sure know how to make an impression!”

Panicking, Twain sprinted to the surface, tripping over his two feet. He burst out of the mine, only to get tangled in a clothesline Miss Julia Bulette had put up earlier in the morning.

Laundry flew in every direction, leaving him entwined in undergarments and bed sheets, much to the amusement of onlookers.

“Well, I’ll be!” somebody shouted. “Looks like that Twain is having a run-in with the local laundry service.”

“I’ve seen some fancy dance moves, but that’s a whole new level, Twain!” somebody else laughed.

As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, Twain’s clumsiness caused a commotion in the streets. Startled horses pulled carriages away from him, pedestrians stumbled in all directions, and chaos ensued.

Virginia City seemed to transform into a slapstick comedy scene, with Twain as the hapless protagonist.

“Look out!” a pedestrian said. “It’s the great Mark Twain, master of causing mayhem in the streets!”

“I never thought I’d see the day when the streets of Virginia City became a comedy stage for Mr. Twain!” another said.

Word of the mayhem reached the Old Bar saloon, and the patrons couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the famous writer. They lined up to take turns imitating Twain’s exaggerated gestures and comical mishaps, causing laughter throughout the establishment.

“Oh, my dear heavens!” one man said as he hoisted his beer. “Look at me, I’m Mark Twain trying to find gold but hitting everything else instead!”

“I reckon if Twain ever decides to give up writing, he’d have a promising career as a slapstick performer!” said the piano player.

Despite the embarrassment, Twain’s sense of humor remained intact. He joined in the laughter, showcasing his quick wit by narrating his misadventures exaggeratedly and hilariously.

The patrons roared with laughter, delighted by the author’s ability to turn his misfortune into comedic gold.

“Well, my friends, it seems I’ve given Virginia City a new form of entertainment!” Twain boasted. “You can call me the Bumbling Bard of the West!”

The patrons began laughing again, applauding Twain’s ability to find humor in even the most awkward situations.

While Twain didn’t strike it rich in the mines of Virginia City, he did leave a lasting impression on the townsfolk with his infectious humor and ability to find laughter even in the most embarrassing situations.

DeQuille, on the other hand, known for his wit and flair for storytelling, couldn’t resist writing about Twain’s mining misadventure in Virginia City. In his article for the Territorial Enterprise the following morning, DeQuille took the opportunity to infuse the story with humor and exaggeration, making Twain’s mishaps even funnier than they already were.

DeQuille painted a vivid picture of Twain’s mining escapade, using colorful language and playful descriptions. He described Twain’s swing of the pickaxe as a “mighty blow that could wake a snoring grizzly from its winter slumber,” adding a touch of absurdity to the scene.

DeQuille highlighted Twain’s lack of coordination by humorously comparing his steps inside the mine to that of a “drunken bear attempting ballet,” eliciting chuckles from readers.

To heighten the comedic effect of Twain’s encounter with the support beam, DeQuille added an element of chaos.

He described the miners scrambling for safety, jokingly exclaiming, “Save yourselves, boys! Twain’s mining skills are as dangerous to us all as his writing!”

About Twain’s clothesline entanglement, DeQuille used vivid imagery to create a humorous spectacle. He painted a picture of Miss Bulette’s laundry flying in every direction, comparing it to a “sudden blizzard of undergarments and bed sheets.” His playful description of Twain as a “captured bandit ensnared in the law’s finest lacy handcuffs” added a comical twist to the scene, ensuring laughter from readers.

Through his witty writing and embellishments, DeQuille turned Twain’s misadventures into a hilarious narrative that resonated with readers. His ability to find humor in every situation and his skill in crafting amusing anecdotes made the article a delightful read, spreading laughter throughout Virginia City and beyond.

In the end, DeQuille’s humorous account of Twain’s mining escapade became a part of the cherished folklore surrounding Twain’s time in Virginia City, further solidifying his reputation as a master storyteller and solidifying the bond of friendship between Twain and DeQuille.

Not one to let a good yarn rest, in a letter to his brother Orion, Twain wrote about his mining misadventure with his characteristic humor and wit. He entertainingly shared the events, highlighting the comedic aspects of his experience.

“Dear Orion,

You won’t believe the calamitous escapade I found myself in here in Virginia City! It all started with a dare from our mischievous friend, Dan DeQuille. He wagered that I couldn’t last a day in the treacherous mines, and, as you know, I couldn’t resist proving him wrong.

Clumsily wielding a pickaxe, I descended into the depths of the Savage Mine, expecting silver but encountering nothing but trouble. I must confess, my mining skills were as reliable as a blindfolded bat trying to navigate a maze. With a single misguided swing, I managed to strike a support beam instead of the rock, causing the entire mine to quake and groan as if it were a living, disgruntled giant.

Realizing the dire situation, I abandoned any notions of becoming a silver baron and sprinted back to the surface. But fate had a twisted sense of humor that day. As I burst out of the mine, I stumbled upon Miss Bulette’s freshly hung clothesline, becoming entangled in a chaotic whirlwind of undergarments and bed sheets. Picture me, dear brother, like a befuddled marionette, captured in the delicate embrace of her satin strings.

The streets of Virginia City transformed into a theater of absurdity, as startled horses darted away, carriages veered off course, and pedestrians scurried in all directions to avoid the calamity I had inadvertently set in motion. I became the unwitting star of a slapstick comedy, stumbling through the chaos like a bumbling fool.

But, dear brother, rest assured that I haven’t lost my sense of humor amidst the madness. With each exaggerated misstep and grand gesture, I narrated my misadventures, eliciting laughter from onlookers and patrons alike. It appears that Virginia City has found a new form of entertainment in the hapless writer-turned-comedic protagonist.

So, my dear Orion, while my aspirations of mining riches may have crumbled like a poorly constructed support beam, my ability to find laughter in the most embarrassing situations remains unscathed. Perhaps I shall stick to wielding a pen instead of a pickaxe, for it seems my true calling lies in entertaining others with tales of my follies.

Yours humorously, Sam.

P.S. Do not tell Ma.”

A week later, and forgoing his appeal to his older brother Orion, Twain wrote to their mother, “I think that there is more gold and silver in India ink and pencil lead than in any mine in the world.”

It was also the last known time he ever lifted a pick ax or laughed at hisself.