During the next six months I
had a number of offers of money to build a brick hotel on my lots,
but I could not think for a moment of borrowing the money for that
purpose.
I remained in Seattle for nine months, during which time there was
a great decrease in the value of property, and I sold my lots
where my hotel had stood at a very reduced price. I tried various
speculations on a small scale during this time, but with very poor
success.
By this time I had spent and lost in speculation about all the
money that I had realized for my property, and the outside
property that I owned I could not sell at any price. Since that
time I have wandered around from pillar to post, catching a little
job here and there, and at this writing I am temporarily located
at Moscow, Idaho, which is situated in the heart of the famous
Palouse country, one of the greatest countries on the globe for
the growing of wheat, oats, barley, rye, flax and vegetables of
all kinds.
And now kind reader, begging your pardon, I would say that I have
been two years making up my mind to allow my life to go down in
history to be read by the public, as notoriety is something I
never cared for. One reason, perhaps, is that I was brought up by
noble and generous-hearted Kit Carson, who very much disliked
notoriety, and I do not believe that there ever was a son who
thought more of his father than I did of that high-minded and
excellent man.
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