To: 2MAR$ who wrote (96694 ) 11/22/2012 3:08:46 PM From: average joe Respond to of 217545 We are involved in a small way with a Dawson City area placer. There is gold there but the economics don't make a lot of sense when you pencil in extraction costs. This has not stopped a few people from getting in over their heads personally keeping it going. I talked to one of the geos on the project and he explained it by saying they have "gold fever" and can't stop until they are rich or broke. The history of Dawson City shows that for every $10 that went in only $1 came out in treasure. Placer mining is not much different than buying a lottery ticket even if you know the ropes. en.wikipedia.org Good-Bye, Little Cabin by Robert Service O dear little cabin, I’ve loved you so long, And now I must bid you good-bye! I’ve filled you with laughter, I’ve thrilled you with song, And sometimes I’ve wished I could cry. Your walls they have witnessed a weariful fight, And rung to a won Waterloo: But oh, in my triumph I’m dreary to-night — Good-bye, little cabin, to you! Your roof is bewhiskered, your floor is a-slant, Your walls seem to sag and to swing; I’m trying to find just your faults, but I can’t — You poor, tired, heart-broken old thing! I’ve seen when you’ve been the best friend that I had, Your light like a gem on the snow; You’re sort of a part of me — Gee! but I’m sad; I hate, little cabin, to go. Below your cracked window red raspberries climb; A hornet’s nest hangs from a beam; Your rafters are scribbled with adage and rhyme, And dimmed with tobacco and dream. “Each day has its laugh”, and “Don’t worry, just work”,. Such mottoes reproachfully shine. Old calendars dangle — what memories lurk About you, dear cabin of mine! I hear the world-call and the clang of the fight; I hear the hoarse cry of my kind; Yet well do I know, as I quit you to-night, It’s Youth that I’m leaving behind. And often I’ll think of you, empty and black, Moose antlers nailed over your door: Oh, if I should perish my ghost will come back To dwell in you, cabin, once more! How cold, still and lonely, how weary you seem! A last wistful look and I’ll go. Oh, will you remember the lad with his dream! The lad that you comforted so. The shadows enfold you, it’s drawing to-night; The evening star needles the sky: And huh! but it’s stinging and stabbing my sight — God bless you, old cabin, good-bye!