water to corporations, to be sold as a monopoly, is an atrocity against
nature; and no deserving people will for long submit to it. The question
will soon come up whether the government has any more right to sell the
water than the air.

In the spring of 1857, a garden containing about two acres was prepared
at Tubac, and irrigated by a canal from the Santa Cruz River. By the
industry of a German gardener with two Mexican assistants, we soon
produced all vegetables, melons, etc., that we required, and many a
weary traveler remembers, or ought to remember, the hospitalities of
Tubac. We were never a week without some company, and sometimes had more
than we required; but nobody was ever charged anything for
entertainment, horse-shoeing, and fresh supplies for the road.
Hospitality is a savage virtue, and disappears with civilization.

As the ores in the Santa Rita Mountains did not make a satisfactory
yield, we turned our explorations to the west of the Santa Cruz River,
and soon struck a vein of petanque (silver copper glance) that yielded
from the grass roots seven thousand dollars a ton. This mine was named
in honor of the president of the company, "Heintzelman," which in German
mining lore is also the name of the genius who presides over mines.

The silver bullion over expenses, which were about fifty per cent, was
shipped, via Guaymas, to San Francisco, where it brought from 125 to 132
cents per ounce for the Asiatic market.

Silver bars form rather an inconvenient currency, and necessity required
some more convenient medium. We therefore adopted the Mexican system of
"boletas." Engravings were made in New York, and paper money printed on
pasteboard about two inches by three in small denominations, twelve and