A young man anxious for information writes to a friend residing in Virginia City, Nevada, as follows:

"Springfield, Mo., April 12.

"Dear Sir: My object in writing to you is to have you give me a full history of Nevada.  What is the character of its climate?  What are the productions of the earth?  Is it healthy?  What diseases do they die of mostly?  Do you think it would be advisable for a man who can make a living in Missouri to emigrate to that part of the country?  There are several of us who would emigrate there in the spring if we could ascertain to a certainty that it is a much better country than this.  I suppose you know Joel H. Smith?  He used to live here; he lives in Nevada now; they say he owns considerable in a mine there.  Hoping to hear from you soon, etc., I remain yours, truly,

William –––."

The letter was handed in to a newspaper office for reply.  For the benefit of all who contemplate moving to Nevada, it is perhaps best to publish the correspondence in its entirety:

Dearest William: Pardon my familiarity – but that name touchingly reminds me of the loved and lost, whose name was similar.  I have taken the contract to answer your letter, and although we are now strangers, I feel we shall cease to be so if we ever become acquainted with each other.  The thought is worthy of attention, William.  I will now respond to your several propositions in the order in which you have fulminated them.

Your object in writing is to have me give you a full history of Nevada.  The flattering confidence you repose in me, William, is only equaled by the modesty of your request.  I could detail the history of Nevada in five hundred pages octavo; but as you have never done me any harm, I will spare you, though it will be apparent to every body that I would be justified in taking advantage of you if I were a mind to.  However, I will condense. Nevada was discovered many years ago by the Mormons, and was called Carson county.  It only became Nevada in 1861, by act of Congress.  There is a popular tradition that the Almighty created it; but when you come to see it, William, you will think differently.  Do not let that discourage you, though.  The country looks something like a singed cat, owing to the scarcity of shrubbery, and also resembles that animal in the respect that it has more merits than its personal appearance would seem to indicate.  The Grosch brothers found the first silver lead here in 1857.  They also founded Silver City, I believe.  Signify to your friends, however, that all the mines here do not pay dividends as yet; you may make this statement with the utmost unyielding inflexibility – it will not be contradicted from this quarter. The population of this Territory is about 35,000, one half of which number reside in the united cities of Virginia and Gold Hill.  However, I will discontinue this history for the present, lest I get you too deeply interested in this distant land, and cause you to neglect your family or your religion.  But I will address you again upon the subject next year.  In the mean time, allow me to answer your inquiry as to the character of our climate.

It has no character to speak of, William, and alas! in this respect it resembles many, ah! too many chambermaids in this wretched, wretched world.  Sometimes we have the seasons in their regular order, and then again we have winter all the summer, and summer all winter.  Consequently, we have never yet come across an almanac that would just exactly fit this latitude.  It is mighty regular about not raining, though, William.  It will start in here in November and rain about four, and sometimes as much as seven days on a stretch; after that you may loan out your umbrella for twelve months, with the serene confidence which a Christian feels in four aces.  Sometimes the winter begins in November and winds up in June; and sometimes there is a bare suspicion of winter in March and April, and summer all the balance of the year.  But as a general thing, William, the climate is good, what there is of it.

What are the productions of the earth?  You mean in Nevada, of course.  On our ranches here any thing can be raised that can be produced on the fertile fields of Missouri.  But ranches are very scattering – as scattering, perhaps, as lawyers in heaven. Nevada, for the most part, is a barren waste of sand, embellished with melancholy sage-brush, and fenced in with snow-clad mountains.  But these ghastly features were the salvation of the land, William; for no rightly constituted American would have ever come here if the place had been easy of access, and none of our pioneers would have staid after they got here, if they had not felt satisfied that they could not find a smaller chance for making a living anywhere else.  Such is man, William, as he crops out in America.

"Is it healthy?"  Yes, I think it is as healthy here as it is in any part of the West.  But never permit a question of that kind to vegetate in your brain, William; because as long as Providence has an eye on you, you will not be likely to die until your time comes.

"What diseases do they die of mostly?"  Well, they used to die of conical balls and cold steel, mostly, but here lately erysipelas and the intoxicating bowl have got the bulge on those things, as was very justly remarked by Mr.  Rising last Sunday.  I will observe, for your information, William, that Mr. Rising is our Episcopal minister, and has done as much as any man among us to redeem this community from its pristine state of semi-barbarism. We are afflicted with all the diseases incident to the same latitude in the States, I believe, with one or two added and half a dozen subtracted on account of our superior altitude.  However, the doctors are about as successful here, both in killing and curing, as they are anywhere.

Now, as to whether it would be advisable for a man who can make a living in Missouri to emigrate to Nevada, I confess I am somewhat mixed.  If you are not content in your present condition, it naturally follows that you would be entirely satisfied if you could make either more or less than a living.  You would exult in the cheerful exhilaration always produced by a change.  Well, you can find your opportunity here, where, if you retain your health, and are sober and industrious, you will inevitably make more than a living, and if you don't, you won't.  You can rely upon this statement, William.  It contemplates any line of business except the selling of tracts.  You can not sell tracts here, William; the people take no interest in tracts; the very best efforts in the tract line – even with pictures on them – have met with no encouragement.  Besides, the newspapers have been interfering; a man gets his regular text or so from the Scriptures in his paper, along with the stock sales and the war news, every day now.  If you are in the tract business, William, take no chances on Washoe; but you can succeed at any thing else here.

"I suppose you know Joel H. Smith?"  Well – the fact is – I believe I don't.  Now isn't that singular?  Isn't it very singular?  And he owns "considerable" in a mine here too.  Happy man! Actually owns in a mine here in Nevada Territory, and I never even heard of him.  Strange – strange – do you know, William, it is the strangest thing that ever happened to me?  And then he not only owns in a mine, but owns "considerable;" that is the strangest part about it – how a man could own considerable in a mine in Washoe, and I not know any thing about it.  He is a lucky dog, though.  But I strongly suspect that you have made a mistake in the name; I am confident you have; you mean John Smith – I know you do; I know it from the fact that he owns considerable in a mine here, because I sold him the property at a ruinous sacrifice on the very day he arrived here from over the plains. That man will be rich one of these days.  I am just as well satisfied of it as I am of any precisely similar instance of the kind that has come under my notice.  I said as much to him yesterday, and he said he was satisfied of it also.  But he did not say it with that air of triumphant exultation which a heart like mine so delights to behold in one to whom I have endeavored to be a benefactor in a small way.  He looked pensive awhile, but, finally, says he, "Do you know, I think I'd a been a rich man long ago if they'd ever found the d–––d ledge?"  That was my idea about it.  I always thought, and I still think, that if they ever do find that ledge, his chances will be better than they are now.  I guess Smith will be all right one of these centuries, if he keeps up his assessments – he is a young man yet.  Now, William, I have taken a liking to you, and I would like to sell you "considerable" in a mine in Washoe.  Let me hear from you on the subject.  Greenbacks at par is as good a thing as I want.  But seriously, William, don't you ever invest in a mining stock which you don't know any thing about; beware of John Smith's experience!

You hope to hear from me soon?  Very good.  I shall also hope to hear from you soon, about that little matter above referred to. Now, William, ponder this epistle well; never mind the sarcasm here and there, and the nonsense, but reflect upon the plain facts set forth, because they are facts, and are meant to be so understood and believed.

Remember me affectionately to your friends and relations, and especially to your venerable grandmother, with whom I have not the pleasure to be acquainted – but that is of no consequence, you know.  I have been in your town many a time, and all the towns of the neighboring counties – the hotel-keepers will recollect me vividly.  Remember me to them – I bear them no animosity.

Yours affectionately.