We saw Brigham again, a few days afterwards, one night at the theatre. The Salt Lake Theatre is really a fine building, and very creditable to the city. Its scenery, and appointments generally, are unsurpassed in this country, outside of a few of our great cities East, and but few of our play-houses indeed equal it even there. Nearly everything about it has been imported from England, at large expense, and Englishmen in the main manage it now. The play the night we were there was of the kind yclept Moral Drama, but it was put on the stage with considerable ability. Two "stars" from San Francisco took the leading characters; the minor ones were sustained by the stock-company, most of whom were Mormon residents of Salt Lake. Among these a sprightly looking girl of seventeen was pointed out to us, as a daughter of Brigham Young's, though on the bills she bore a high-sounding theatrical name. What corresponds to the "pit" in most theatres, is their dress-circle, and this was well-filled with families—chiefly women and children. The rest of the theatre was occupied mostly by Gentiles and soldiers. What impressed one particularly, was the domestic or family character of the whole thing. Men, women, and children, were all there, down to the last baby, and young misses came and went at will, quite unattended, as at church East. Between the acts, paterfamilias and all munched their apples and nuts, and promenaded about quite ad libitum; but during the performance everything was very decorous. In the very centre of the house were four long seats, handsomely upholstered, and "reserved" for Mrs. Brigham Young. There were "sixteen of her," as poor Artemus Ward used to say, there that night, all ordinary looking women, apparently from thirty-five to fifty years of age, and dressed rather plainly. A fine large rocking-chair, abreast of the seats, was pointed out to us as Brigham's place when he sits with them. Ordinarily he occupies a private box, with his favorite wife, and did so that evening with his dear Amelia. He paid but little attention to the play, but most of the time was sweeping the audience with an opera-glass, or conversing with a gentleman by his side. Mrs. Amelia was well-dressed, but not richly, and was scarcely better looking than the other sixteen, whom she had displaced in Brigham's affections. Evidently the Prophet has no taste for female beauty, or else is indifferent to it. Sometimes, between the acts, he comes down and chats a little with his domestic flock below, but retires to his box again when the play resumes. That evening, however, he continued faithful throughout to Mrs. Amelia.
Flanking the stage were two long seats, upholstered somewhat better than the rest, and here sat some twenty or more of Brigham's children—of all sizes and both sexes. They were mostly maidens from ten to fifteen years of age, though some were only prattling infants on their mothers' knees. They were better dressed and brighter looking, than most of the young people present; but the sight was a singular one for the nineteenth century, and in Christian America. Altogether, Brigham was said to have over fifty children—mostly girls. Heber Kimball was credited with about the same number, but his were chiefly boys—whereat he was inclined to joke Brigham. Their wives so-called, were reported at the same number, about twenty-five each. Recently Brigham had said, that he had "about a dozen or twenty, he was not certain which—it was nobody's business but his own." But public opinion at Salt Lake credited him with twenty-five or more, regular and "brevet" together, when we were there; and he has probably increased the number one or two per year, ever since.
Our main object, however, in going to the Theatre, was to get a good look at the general audience. On the surface, I must say, this was genteel and respectable. There was no fashion or "style" about it, of course; but the people as a whole were well-dressed—always comfortably—and in the main looked contented and well-to-do. Here and there a woman's face however, showed, unmistakable signs of grief and anguish; but there were not nearly so many of these, as might be expected. What the women's faces chiefly lacked, was that air of sprightliness and grace, of culture and refinement, that characterizes the majority of theatre-going ladies East and elsewhere. There was an ugly subdued look about many of them, as if they felt themselves trodden down and inferior to the men—much such as we used to see in the negro's face down South—and too little of that calm, masterful, rounded equipoise of self-respect, which is the true glory of either man or woman. Prolong polygamy for a century, with all such downward forces constantly at work, and what may not our Utah dames and damsels become? The men, on the other hand, looked heavy and coarse, and while there were keen sharp faces among them, here and there, that could have belonged only to men of character anywhere, yet in too many instances the animal was evidently creeping over them, and in the end would surely predominate. It was pitiful to think how inexorably their higher nature must suffer, if polygamy continued, unless all history is false, and physiology a lie. But there are some things, that need not be said; it is enough to intimate them.
As to the alleged outrages and wrongs by Mormons against Gentiles, we found public opinion at Salt Lake much divided. The Mormons, as a class, of course, all repudiated and denied them; while the Gentiles, as a class, were equally earnest in affirming them. Before arriving there, we were very skeptical on this subject; but before leaving, and afterwards, heard so many ugly stories, that we were compelled to believe somewhat in them. It is a delicate subject to touch at all, and I would fain avoid it; but no account of Salt Lake would be complete without some allusion thereto. Space would fail me to speak of them at length; so that I shall content myself with recording only a case or two, and from them the reader must judge for himself. The Mountain Meadow massacre, and the Brassfield murder, were old stories; but just previous to our arrival, a party of Gentiles had been threatened with drowning in the Jordan, and indeed, while we were there, the atrocious murder of Dr. Robinson occurred. The editor of the little Vidette, the plucky Gentile paper then at Salt Lake, was one of the Gentiles above referred to, and his story was that a band of masked men seized them on the street one night, and taking them out to the Jordan tied them hand and foot, and then gave them the option—either to leave Utah in one week, or to be tossed in and drowned. Their only offence was, that they had been too bitter against Mormonism, and Salt Lake they were informed was "an unhealthy place" for such people. They all agreed, we believe, to emigrate. But the Vidette man, on getting home, concluded such a promise under duress was not very binding, and proceeded to strengthen his conclusion by securing a guard from Camp Douglas. Loaded down with revolvers, he went about his business as usual in the day time, but at night kept within doors, and so far had remained unmolested. The others, however, as a whole, thought it safer to keep their agreement, and accordingly duly quitted Utah.
The murder of Dr. Robinson (Oct. 22d), it must be admitted, was a cold-blooded atrocity, worthy only of fanatics or savages. He had come to Salt Lake originally, as Surgeon or Ass't-Surgeon of a regiment of volunteers, ordered there from California during the war, to replace the Regulars sent east. When his regiment was mustered out, he concluded to settle at Salt Lake, and soon after "pre-empted" the quarter-section containing the Hot Sulphur Springs. Associating a Dr. Williamson with him, who had also been in the army, they put up a bath-house and refreshment-saloon at the Springs, and by liberal advertising were soon in a fair way to make some money. Now, all at once, two Mormons living near suddenly discovered that the property belonged to them, although they had never claimed it before, or regularly "pre-empted" it, or made any "permanent improvement" there, as required by our pre-emption laws. They accordingly brought suit in ejectment against Messrs. Robinson and Williamson, in the U. S. District Court there; but before the cause reached trial, became convinced there was nothing in their case, and concluded to abandon it. Now, however, Salt Lake City itself stepped in as plaintiff in the cause, and claimed the Springs also as corporation property, by virtue of some old ordinance, though two or three miles beyond the city limits. Immediately, without waiting for the Court, Messrs. R. and W. were declared trespassers, and the Mayor ordered the city police to eject them from the premises, which was done one night by tearing down the buildings over their heads, and dragging them both off bodily. This summary proceeding, no better than a riot, naturally created much excitement among the Gentiles, and was still being talked of when we reached Salt Lake. Meanwhile, Dr. Robinson took it very coolly, and moving into Salt Lake, opened an office for practice there, proposing to abide the judgment of the Court. Shortly, however, before this could be reached, he was roused up one night by a man at his door, with the plausible story, that a friend down the street had broken his leg and needed his immediate services, being already in great agony. His wife, newly married, fearing treachery, begged him not to go. But the Doctor felt bound by the vows of his profession, and while proceeding forth upon this supposed errand of mercy and benevolence, he was waylaid on one of the most public streets, knocked down, and shot through the head, three or four times, as if his assassins meant to make sure work of their victim. From the testimony of those awakened by the shots and his loud outcries, it appeared there were over a half a dozen of his assassins and their accessories—some doing the bloody work, while others stood guard on the adjacent corners—and yet not one of them was arrested, though it was a bright moonlight night, and a fresh fall of snow on the ground. The city police, when sought, were all found collected at the Central Police Station, as if purposely out of the way, and no serious or concerted attempt was made to track the murderers. His watch was untouched; his pockets, unrifled; there was no evidence that he had a personal enemy; and the almost universal conviction of the Gentiles then at Salt Lake was, that he had fallen a victim to the Mormons, at the bidding or instigation of the Church—they preferring to end their action of ejectment thus summarily, rather than abide "the law's delay," or its "glorious uncertainties." Subsequently, a leading Mormon, a son-in-law of Brigham Young's, admitted to me, indeed, that Robinson had probably been "silenced" by some ignorant or bigoted brother; but repudiated, of course, all connection of the Church therewith, or responsibility therefor.
The morning after the assassination, as the facts got known, the Gentile population became greatly excited, and for a day or two there was hot talk of a "Vigilance Committee," etc. Happily, however, this last suggestion was abandoned, or the Mormons would have exterminated them, as they outnumbered the Gentiles fully six to one in the city, and immensely more than that outside in the Territory. To pacify them, however, a coroner's inquest was ordered, and, as the excitement grew, the City Government came out ostentatiously with a reward of $2,000, for the apprehension and conviction of the murderers. So intense was the feeling, Brigham Young himself thought it wise to start a private subscription, and raised $7,000 more among the Mormon merchants and "tender-footed" Gentiles. The sturdier Gentiles, however, and many of the U. S. officials, refused to have any thing to do with this; and one, at least, of the U. S. Judges, when asked to sign it, unhesitatingly branded the whole movement, as only "a cheat and swindle to throw dust into the eyes of people East." It was, however, a shrewd dodge, worthy of such an old fox, and Brigham immediately telegraphed to Gen. Sherman, at St. Louis, then commanding that Department, "We have offered $9,000 reward for Dr. Robinson's murderers. The church nothing to do with it!" No doubt, when interrogated by tourists about such outrages and wrongs hereafter, he will refer to that "$9,000 reward," for many a day, with great unction, and extol his saints to the skies accordingly. Of course, it was perfectly safe to "subscribe" it; for it was never meant, that any body should be caught. The coroner's inquest made a show of sitting several days, but nothing came of their labors. Some Gentiles, indeed, went so far as to retain Ex-Gov. Weller, of California, who happened then to be at Salt Lake, and he prosecuted the inquiry with some vigor; but the verdict of the jury was, "Killed by some person or persons unknown." The effect of it all was, to deepen the sense of insecurity in the minds of all Gentiles there, as to both person and property, and to intensify the general feeling against Mormonism, which we found everywhere throughout Colorado, Idaho, Oregon, Nevada, and the Pacific Coast generally. It became at once another wall of division, another root of bitterness, between Gentiles and Mormons throughout all that region; and will be sure to be treasured up "as wrath against a day of wrath," when that dark day comes. And justice, against even Brighamdom, we may depend, will not sleep forever.
Mrs. Robinson, it should be added, subsequently returned to her friends in California, and Dr. Williamson left for the East, both abandoning their undoubted property, after such convincing arguments. The City immediately leased the Springs and their appurtenances for $2,000 per year; and thus this cruel assassination was apparently a "paying" operation for the Saints, whatever may be its barbarism, or however others fared.
This case I have given somewhat in detail, because it occurred under my own eye—so to speak—and I endeavored to sift its facts pretty thoroughly for myself. In my Official Report on Utah, attention was called to it; and whatever else may be said or thought of it, one thing seems clear, to wit, that such unlawful and wicked acts are but the logical fruit of the habitual teachings of the Mormon chiefs and leaders. Said Brigham Young some time before, in one of his pulpit discourses, "Brethren, if any body comes here, and goes to interfere with our lands or women, my advice is to send 'em to hell across lots." Said the editor of the Salt Lake Telegraph, the chief Mormon paper there, one day in my hearing, "If a man comes here, and don't like our institutions, all he has to do is to leave. If he stops here, and minds his own business, he will get along well enough—nobody will molest him. But if he goes to denouncing President Young, or interfering with our domestic relations, of course he will get into trouble mighty quick, you bet!" I thought that a fair statement of their position; but failed to see wherein it differed from the hideous despotism down South, which we had just had to break as with a rod of iron, and dash in pieces as a potter's vessel. He indignantly denied, that Gentiles were ordinarily ill-treated or tabooed; but his own statement, it seemed to me, confessed away the whole case substantially of Gentile vs. Mormon, involving as it does a thorough surrender of our cherished freedom of speech and of the press. This editor was a bluff and hearty Englishman, about forty years of age, and was reported engaged to a daughter of Brigham Young's, only about seventeen. The current criticism of him was, that he really believed no more in Mormonism, than the most incorrigible Gentile; but he had found the institution, or rather "destitution," (as Theodore Parker called its "twin relic," and would much more have branded it), to "pay," and so eulogized and defended it.
Perhaps I can not do better, than relate just here a rather remarkable conversation I had with a high judicial officer of the Territory, on this and kindred subjects. He had been there several years, was a man of ability and character, and I give the conversation at length, because it seemed trustworthy, and also because it will probably answer a variety of questions the reader may want to ask. It took place in his own chambers, while I was at Salt Lake; and as no injunction of secrecy was imposed, or apparently desired, I see no objections to publishing it. He said he had come to Utah unprejudiced against the Mormons, but at length had become convinced, however reluctantly, that they had a secret organization—call it "Thugs," "Danites," "Destroying Angels," or what you will—whose sworn duty it was to "put out of the way" any person, who became hostile or obnoxious to their views or interests. For a long while after coming there, he had refused to credit this; but at length was compelled to, by the most indubitable evidence, to wit, his own multiplied observations and experiences as a U. S. judge. He continued:
"I can't help believing, sir, that poor Dr. Robinson was killed in this way, and when Brigham Young's hypocritical subscription-paper, for a reward for the arrest of the assassins, was presented for my signature, I indignantly spurned it. I told the committee in charge, that it was only another of Brigham's tricks to throw dust into the eyes of the people at Washington, and I would have nothing to do with it."
"Do you think his murderers will ever be discovered?"
"Suppose they are, they will never be convicted. No Mormon jury would convict a brother Mormon, in such a case, even if indicted, as everybody knows here. I know very well who murdered poor Brassfield some time ago, and where the Church sent him abroad to keep him out of the way. I suppose England would return him, under our extradition laws, if requested. But cui bono? Our juries here are all summoned by the Mormon sheriffs, and the jurors, of course, are either Mormons, or dough-face Gentiles, worse than Mormons; so that, it would be hopeless to expect a righteous verdict."
"Then you really think, the accounts we get East of outrages and crimes by Mormons, against Gentiles or apostate Mormons, are, on the whole, true?"
"Why, yes, I am sorry to say, I fear so—the most of them—as true as holy writ. But the half of them never come to light. 'Dead men tell no tales.' And what do we know of the mysteries and miseries of their barbarous polygamy?"
"Do you think Brigham Young has much to do with such outrages?"
"In some cases, yes, directly. In others, only indirectly, by his sermons and addresses. No doubt he advised, or at least suggested, the 'taking off' of Brassfield and Dr. Robinson, to save trouble and serve as examples. So, also, he was directly responsible for the Mountain Meadow massacre, that occurred several years ago, when a whole train of Gentile emigrants, en route to California, were murdered in cold blood, and their property and little children distributed around among the Mormons. They had offended the Saints while passing through Salt Lake, and this was their revenge. This murder by wholesale they have always charged upon the Indians; but I myself have seen the secret orders for their massacre, signed 'By order of President Young, D. H. Wells, Adj't.-Gen.' I was in Washington in the autumn of 1865, and was at the White-House one day, when these orders were shown to Andrew Johnson. He took the tattered and discolored papers to the window, scanned them closely for awhile, and when he returned them said, with much feeling, it was "high time something was done to clean out such scoundrels." It was a generous impulse, while it lasted, and he meant it, too. But subsequently, when I saw him again, in the winter, he had become embroiled with Congress, and dismissed the Utah question with the curt remark, that there was "practical polygamy in Massachusetts too, as well as Utah." The property of these Mountain Meadow emigrants, I repeat, was divided up, and distributed around among the Mormons. Some of their furniture is in Salt Lake now, and can readily be identified. Many of their mules were sold by Capt. H.—subsequently our delegate to Congress—to the U. S. Quartermaster then here, and the proceeds shared by himself, Young, Wells, and others. There is plenty of evidence of all this, that I can put my finger on at any time; but it would be ridiculous to submit it to a Mormon jury, with any hope of a conviction now. And so, the case rests."
"I suppose, this also is why our anti-polygamy laws prove to be a failure?"
"Certainly, sir! It is an old adage, 'Dog won't eat dog!' There didn't use to be much polygamy here. But as soon as Congress made it a misdemeanor and a crime, Brigham and his Bishops set to work to get as many of their people into it as possible, so as to make the enforcement of the new law difficult, if not well nigh impracticable. They argued very shrewdly, 'You can't indict and try a whole people.' Polygamy, indeed, used to be only a matter of taste, and but little talked about; but now it is constantly preached, as a civil and religious duty, and all who can support more than one wife are proceeding to take others. The women objected a good deal, at first, and do still; but they were told, it was a New Revelation, 'thus saith the Lord,' and submission would make them 'Queens in Heaven' etc., and so they yielded. What else could they do in these mountain fastnesses, with Gown and Sword both against them?"
"Well, judge, you must have seen a good deal of the 'peculiar institution.' What are its practical workings?"
"Bad, and only bad—every way. It tends to make the men petty despots and mere animals, of course, while it degrades American women to the level of the Oriental harem. Their husbands, so-called, already habitually think and speak of them, as their 'women'—not wives—as you may have noticed, as a part of their goodly possessions, somewhat more esteemed perhaps than their flocks and herds, but not so much more either. Affection, sympathy, confidence—the finer instincts and feelings—all true delicacy between husband and wife—are fast dying out, and we have nothing half so good to show for them. Sometimes, however, a first wife gets the bit into her teeth, and then the others have to stand around, or leave. Per contra, sometimes the first wife herself gets ejected. One of Heber Kimball's sons married a second wife some time ago, and soon after she persuaded his first wife—a wife of many years, with several children—to vacate, by three shots from a revolver, and then installed herself as first wife instead! No doubt, the Saints have many a little "unpleasantness," like this, to mar their domestic felicity; but they hush them up, and keep quiet about it."
"What about their polygamous children?"
"Why, they are inferior of course, in many ways, ex necessitate, as the fruits of such a practice always are, and must be. Go to the City Cemetery, and you will find it a perfect Golgotha of infant graves. If not feeble and tainted already in constitution, they must speedily become so; or else all History is false, and Science a slander."
"And yet those we have seen on the road, and about the streets here, seem bright and spry enough."
"No doubt. It is a good climate, and there has not been time enough yet. But, then, have you considered the whole foul brood of downward influences at work here, and what must be the logical result in due season, by the very nature of things? Why, with our population of a hundred thousand souls, we have not a Free School yet in all Utah, and outside of this city scarcely a School-House. Here, we have a few Ward Schools; but the teachers are inferior, and the rates of tuition, cost of books etc., so high, that only the children of the better classes can attend. Brigham Young has a school of his own, in his seraglio grounds, where his numerous progeny are taught music, dancing, and some of the commoner branches; but the great bulk of our rising generation here are growing up in a state of ignorance and superstition so dense, as to be absolutely inconceivable elsewhere. So, too, many of the Saints have two or more sisters for wives, at the same time. Others, again, marry their own blood-cousins, and some even their own step-daughters. And instances exist, where they have had mother and daughter for wives, at the same time. Now, where all this is to end, it seems to me, it is not difficult to predict, unless Nature suspends her laws, and Evil becomes our Good."
"It is certainly very shocking, judge. But what do you propose to do about it?"
"Well, I would do something, or at least try to. I have thought a good deal about it, since I got my eyes open; and, first of all, I would have Congress authorize and instruct the U. S. Marshal here to summon the jurors for the U. S. Courts direct. By some strange oversight, I suspect by Mormon intrigue (for they watch Congress closely, and boast they control it on all Utah matters usually), this was omitted in our Organic Act, and consequently our jury-lists are now taken from the county-lists, which are of course made up by Mormon sheriffs. Therefore, all open and avowed Gentiles, who have any back-bone in them, are left off, and we get nobody in our U. S. jury-boxes even, except Mormons and doughface Gentiles. Of course, such juries won't indict or convict for polygamy, or any other offence worth mentioning, if a Mormon is to be mulcted for it. But if our jurors were summoned by our Marshal direct, out of the whole body of the Territory, as they are everywhere else, I believe, he could take good care to put only reliable citizens on the lists, and thus give us juries that would indict and convict in all necessary or flagrant cases."[10]
"But would the Saints meekly consent to be thus overslaughed, and ignored?"
"Of course, not! The first verdict we got and attempted to enforce, there would be a riot, or threatened riot, and then we would have to fall back on the Military. The Utah Militia, of course, could not be depended on; for it is all officered and controlled by the creatures of the Church. Therefore, we would have to call on the United States, and it would be for Uncle Sam to decide at last. This, of course, would necessitate an increase of troops here; for, if the garrison were small, the Saints might make trouble. But give us a couple of batteries, a regiment of cavalry, and say two regiments of infantry, such as Sherman 'went marching through Georgia' with; and Brighamdom can be made to obey the laws, the same as Dixie, or be ground to powder."
"But, judge, will not the Pacific Railroad solve the problem in a more excellent way—peaceably and quietly—by bringing in such an influx of Gentiles, that Mormonism will be neutralized? This is what we all hope East?"
"Perhaps so, if this 'influx' is big enough, and good enough. But, you see, the Saints claim to have pre-empted about all the land here, that is worth anything, and they won't sell or lease to Gentiles, unless the Church says so. Besides, with the heavy immigration the Mormons are constantly receiving—about three thousand this year, to next to nothing by the Gentiles, and their naturally rapid increase, I fear they will keep greatly ahead of all outsiders, who won't be likely to come and stay long where they will be ostracised and outlawed. It isn't natural, that they should. Won't it be the same, as it was down South before the war, and has been ever since? Northern brain and capital wouldn't go there, and won't, because they believe in perfect freedom of speech and of the press—absolute security of person and property—and won't settle where these are wanting. How then can we expect them to emigrate here, where we have no true enjoyment of either? What sensible man would come to Utah, or bring his wife and children here, when he could go just as well to Colorado or Montana, Oregon or California, and escape the dismal drawbacks we have here? I admit I have great hopes of the Railroad, in time; and yet I confess, I fear, our questio vexata here in Utah, like its "twin" question down in Dixie, will find its solution only in gunpowder, if it is to find it soon. When nothing else will do, I have great faith in the moral power of bayonets—especially, when used on the right side."
"But, judge, is not Brigham Young the main cohesive power; and when he dies, what then?"
"Well, when that happens they may split up, on the question of his successor; but I suspect Brigham is too shrewd and far-seeing for that. He already has Brigham Young, Jr., his smartest son, in training for the succession—sent him missionary to England, and now he is a Brigadier-General in the Mormon Militia here—and the probability is, a "Revelation" will designate him for the Presidency, if death don't come too suddenly. Brigham will undoubtedly keep the succession in his own family, if he can; but he will not hesitate a moment to designate some other person, if the seeming interests of the Church require it. Of course, he is very illiterate; but he is a very able and sagacious man, for all that—devoted to Mormonism, and "dangerous" in every sense of that word."
"Have you no fear of him, yourself, judge? You speak your mind pretty plainly."
"No, I think not. He would hardly strike so high. Besides he is reputed to be a coward, personally, and I guess that is so. I have seen him charged with complicity in the Mountain Meadow massacre, and his shirking and cringing then was pitiful. No doubt, my life is always in danger here, more or less, as would be that of any other upright and fearless judge. Indeed, I have good reason to know, that they cordially hate me. After Dr. Robinson's assassination a friendly Mormon came to me at night, and told me confidentially my turn would come next. But I keep indoors after dark, or else go out only in company, or when heavily armed, and am prepared to sacrifice my life, if need be, at any time. I have lived too long in this world, to be much afraid of leaving it; and I don't know as I could die better anyhow, than in upholding and enforcing the laws of my country here in Utah."
"Do your Courts ever meet with real opposition to their ordinary courses of procedure?"
"Why, no—not formally; though I never have much confidence in a verdict, where one of the parties is a Gentile. Where plaintiff and defendant are both Mormons, our verdicts are usually righteous enough; though these are liable to be overruled or set aside, by the High Council of the Church—a body of irresponsible ecclesiastics, of course, unknown to the laws. This Council is composed of Brigham Young, and a number of the chief dignitaries of the Church, and is often appealed to by "big" Mormons, when the civil courts have gone against them."
"No! Really? But is not this mere rumor, judge?"
"No, indeed! I could cite several such cases, but will only trouble you with one. Not long ago, down in one of our Southern counties, a laboring man—a Mormon—was working in a barn, for and with a Mormon Bishop. In some way or other, they got into a quarrel, which ended in a fight, and in the course of this the Bishop hurt the poor fellow very badly. Among other things, he struck him with a pitchfork, harpooning him—so to speak—through the leg, so that the poor man was laid up for months, and made a cripple indeed for life. After his recovery, the outrage was so atrocious, and the community so generally with him, he mustered up courage enough to bring an action against the Bishop. The cause was tried in the Probate or County Court, where of course, all were Mormons. But the jurors, being neighbors of the injured man and cognizant of all the facts, resolved to do justice, and accordingly without much delay returned a verdict for $3,500 damages. The Bishop being rich, as the high dignitaries all are, appealed the case to my court, where I, after a full hearing, of course, affirmed the judgment of the court below, with heavy costs.
"Well, now, I supposed this settled the case, as there was no higher court here. But judge of my astonishment, when some weeks after the plaintiff came to me one day, and said the Bishop had further appealed the case to the High Council of the Church, where they had tried it over again, and awarded him only $1,000 damages; and he wanted to know if this was right and "good law" here? Of course, I could do nothing for him myself, with the facts in that shape. But I referred him to one of our Gentile lawyers here, and told him if he would put the case in his hands, and have the facts brought regularly before me, so that I could get hold of the matter judicially, I would soon teach this "High Council of the Church" a lesson, as to their rights and duties, as against a United States Court, that they would be apt to remember for awhile. He thanked me, and took my advice. But before the papers got regularly before me, the Mormons somehow got wind of the matter, and hastened to settle with the man. I believe they gave him $2,000, or something like that, and I suppose frightened him into silence. Now, to think once of these insolent villians, presuming—without law and in violation of law—to review and overrule the solemn decision of a United States Court! I tell you, it made my Quaker blood boil, when I heard of it.[11] I would just like to have laid my hands on that "High Council of the Church," in a case like that. I feel right sure, I would have taught Brigham Young and his lawless associates a wholesome lesson, they wouldn't have forgotten very soon, if it had cost me my life to do it."
There was something grand and heroic—almost sublime—about this man's talk at times, and I only reproduce it here very faintly. He knew I was seeking official facts, and doubtless unburdened his whole soul to me. He had had unusual opportunities for observation; he seemed to be well-informed; and certainly was thoroughly honest. Further than this, I cannot vouch for him, but report the conversation substantially as it occurred, from notes made the same evening. I must, however, do him the justice to add, that his views in the main were everywhere corroborated by almost all the Federal officers I met—both civil and military—as well as the vast majority of Gentile settlers, throughout all that region. Such were the views of Judge——; and subsequent events there, it must be confessed, have pretty well illustrated them.
In the two previous chapters, I have discussed Utah pretty thoroughly, touching most of the mooted questions there; and now, to sum up. Without doubt, it must be said of the people of Utah, that they are an industrious, frugal, and thrifty race. By their wonderful system of irrigation, they have converted the desert there into a garden, and literally made the wilderness, "bloom and blossom as the rose." Their statistics (1866) showed, that they had already constructed over a thousand miles of irrigating canals and ditches, watering 150,000 acres of land, at a cost of nearly $2,000,000. Each family has its own few acres, and these are cultivated so thoroughly, that the total annual product is surprising. In Salt Lake City many families almost live on their acre-and-a-quarter lots, and many of their farms elsewhere do not exceed forty or fifty acres, with many much smaller. With their system of careful culture and general double-cropping, one man cannot well manage over ten or twelve acres per year; nor is more necessary for an ordinary family, the land proves so bountiful. Fifty and sixty bushels of wheat per acre, we were told, was not an unusual yield. So, since leaving the Missouri, we had nowhere seen more comfortable and apparently well-to-do homes. We must say, they were much superior to the average homes of our people in Colorado. Evidently, these Utahans had come there to stay, and from the first had "governed themselves accordingly;" while the Coloradoans, it was plain, were too many of them, only "birds of passage," like so much of our population in the West generally. Their towns and villages are well laid out, and in the main neatly built. In the country, their little farms are well-fenced or walled, with comfortable adobe houses clustering with vines and flowers, or surrounded with fruit and shade trees, while a throng of hay and grain-stacks encircle their barns. So, too, the Mormons, whatever else may be said of them, are certainly a sober race of people. Many of them no doubt keep liquor about their premises, and drink when they choose to; but drunkenness as a vice, or habitual drinking as a practice, is unknown in Utah, comparatively speaking. So, too, they allow no gambling there, except "on the sly;" and no houses of prostitution, unless you regard every "much-married" Mormon's as such, which it seems hardly fair to do—the women considered. On the whole, it is safe to say, that the Mormons deserve marked commendation and praise for what they have accomplished in Utah, in redeeming a barren wilderness and building up a prosperous community there, and full credit should be awarded them accordingly. They brag constantly, and largely, about Great Salt Lake City, and surely they have a right to. In the essential points of beauty, comfort, cleanliness, and good order, it has few equals, and perhaps no superiors of its age and size anywhere, and all things considered is indeed a perfect miracle for Utah. In the very heart of the great internal basin of the continent, and the centre of a busy and thriving people, it really seemed to be a natural metropolis there, and was everywhere talked of as the future workshop and mart of that region.
On the other hand, it is due to truth to say, that impartial as I tried to be, the more I studied affairs there, the more Mormonism impressed me as, in many respects, a huge mass of thorough iniquity. It did not strike me as a Religion at all, per se, and I suspect there is less of the purely "religious" about it, than any other ecclesiastical organization on the earth. Their sermons were not so much theological discourses, as they were sectarian stump-speeches. The whole Church, "so-called," struck me ordinarily, as a coarse utilitarianism, not to say rude materialism. Their missionaries seemed to be sent out, not so much to spread the gospel (even according to J. Smith and B. Young), as to induce and hasten immigration to Utah. It is true, they have Bishops and other subordinate clergy; but their main duty appeared to be to preside over and direct colonization, rather than to cure souls. They had indeed their regular dioceses; but these were so arranged as to make the Bishop the chief man in each town or settlement, and judging by those we saw these dignitaries were selected rather for their shrewd business talents, than any special piety or virtue. They were almost invariably sharp smart Americans, while the great majority of the Mormons were English, Welsh, Danes, etc., of the very lowest and poorest classes. In every community, the Bishop's word was law and gospel, as he claimed to receive "revelations" direct from heaven on most knotty questions, and he virtually inspired and directed all its business. Usually he owned the mill, store, and hotel, and he who controls these three essentials of a new community ordinarily controls the community itself. Observation shows, that nearly everybody in a new country becomes mortgaged, sooner or later, to the miller, store-keeper, or hotel-keeper; and hence as the Bishops are all three of these in one, their chances for amassing wealth are simply enormous. The result is, that all or nearly all of the Mormon Bishops have become immensely rich, while Brigham himself is reported worth a fabulous amount in his own right, independently of the vast property he holds, as "Trustee in trust for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."[12] Indeed, to sum it up in one word, the whole institution of Mormonism—polygamy and all—apart from its theological aspects, impresses you rather as a gigantic organization for collecting and consolidating a population, and thus settling up a Territory rapidly, whatever else it may be; and its success, in this respect, has certainly been notable and great.
As a whole, the Mormons are no doubt a very ignorant, and, therefore, very bigoted people, and the whole tendency of their pulpit-teachings is to lawlessness and violence, so far as Gentiles are concerned. They affect to despise mere intellect and sentiment, and to pride themselves on being plain-spoken and practical. They will not "fellowship" with open and avowed Gentiles, if they can avoid it; and boldly proclaim their hostility to and contempt for the Government of the United States, as on the Sunday we were at their Tabernacle. No doubt, if opportunity offered, they would assail or embarrass it, though now they are more wary and circumspect, than they were before the South learned a lesson on this score. So, Brigham Young is governor de facto in Utah, and has been always, no matter who is governor de jure, and will be, while that other "twin relic of barbarism," polygamy, endures. The evidence on all these points, I must say, seemed fairly overwhelming, though no more can be given here. So, too, they believe, or affect to believe, that the United States dares not touch their "peculiar institution," and brand all our laws against it as acts of "National wickedness," "Federal tyranny," invasions of their "sacred rights," etc. It seemed to me, that we had heard such complaints before; but not from a part of the country, that led us to respect them greatly, when reiterated there in Utah. The true test is, what are the results to Humanity, and how do they affect us as a People? And I am sure, the answer in all candor must be, a bigoted and seditious race of men, a degraded and inferior class of women, an ignorant and degenerate herd of children; and does not the inevitable, and inexorable, logic of things necessitate just these? If these be the elements of progress and the seeds of empire, then Utah should be let alone; if otherwise, then let us lay the strong hand of the Government upon her, and teach her respect for and obedience to the laws, the same as all other parts of the Union.
No doubt their poor women are already relapsing into a condition, that is truly pitiable, as elsewhere intimated, and their tendency must be rapidly to the worse. Evidently the Saints take care to seclude them from Gentile gaze, as much as possible; but a more dreary, homely, pokey set of women, as a whole, were never seen. I may have been unfortunate, but in all Utah, I did not see a truly happy and sunny countenance, or noble and serene, on a mature Mormon woman; nor did I anywhere hear of one, who would fully realize our old and fond ideal of
But, what else could be expected in a country, where a husband signifies only the fractional part of a man, and a wife—any number of women you please? Beyond controversy, their "peculiar institution" of polygamy is a "relic of barbarism"—yea, verily, a "twin-relic" to slavery—as the Republican party in 1856-60 had the manliness and courage to pronounce it. "Peculiar" institutions, of whatever character, have no business in a republic; they mean inequality, and inevitably tend to violence and disorder. No doubt, had Abraham Lincoln lived, when we had finished our first "twin" right thoroughly, he would have found a way to look well after the other. We owe this to our mothers and sisters, to our wives and daughters,
to all of womankind, the broad continent across and the wide world over; and Congress should take care, that we lend not the sanction of our flag to this hideous crime, an hour longer than we must. Our age, so far, has largely honored itself, in honoring and respecting womankind, and it is too late now to let Christian America barbarize any portion of herself, with the exploded savagery of pagandom. We must have freedom of speech and of the press there, security of person and property—absolute and perfect—the same as in New York or Massachusetts, or our flag is a lie. We must maintain and execute our national laws against polygamy, the same as everywhere else, no matter who opposes, or our government is a sham. And if Mormon juries won't do this, refusing to indict or convict, and nothing else will do, so that we have to fall back on the bayonet, why then I see nothing in Utah so sacred, that we should not give Brighamdom the bayonet, the same as we did Jeffdom. I believe in the Pacific Railroad, and hope much from its civilizing and refining influences; I have great faith in the locomotive and the telegraph; but I also believe, with Judge —— in "the moral power of bayonets, when nothing else will suffice—especially when used on the right side." We have just had to use them against one "twin-relic," when nothing else would do, in spite of our Railroads there; now let them charge down upon the other, if Utah will not obey the laws, and that right speedily. Were Mormonism merely a religion, as a republic we should be the last to touch it. But polygamy, its baleful flower and fruit, and the source of all Utah's woes, is an unmitigated barbarism; an outrage and crime, not only against woman, but humanity; an organized insult to the Christianity and civilization of the age; and we Americans, of this generation, owe it to ourselves and to history, to end it—to stamp it out if need be—sans ceremony and instanter. Let us not dally with it, as we did with Southern slavery. Else may God, in his just wrath, break us again with a rod of iron, or haply dash us in pieces as a potter's vessel. Let Congress and the President but do their duty in the premises, and Brigham Young I predict will receive a "new revelation," that will quickly end the whole trouble. The power is with them, and History will hold them justly responsible.
It was our intention originally to proceed from Salt Lake to San Francisco direct, via Nevada; but our long sojourn at Salt Lake induced us to go via Boisè City and the Columbia instead. When arranging for our departure, we happened to meet Mr. Ben Holliday, the great stage-proprietor of the Plains there, and he advised us to inspect Idaho first, or we would be caught there in winter. He was then temporarily at Salt Lake, on one of his semi-annual inspections of his vast stage-lines. The Pacific Railroad has supplanted these now, in the main; but they were then the only means of rapid transit, and a great and important agency of civilization throughout all that region. His line of stages commenced then at Fort Kearney on the Platte, and ran thence to Denver, about five hundred miles; thence to Central City, in the heart of the Colorado mines, about forty miles; returning to Denver, thence along and across the Rocky and Wahsatch Mountains to Salt Lake, about six hundred miles; thence through Idaho and Oregon, to Umatilla on the Columbia, about seven hundred miles, with a branch at Bear River, through Montana to Virginia City, about four hundred miles more. In all, his stage-lines then footed up about two thousand two hundred and forty miles, through the great frontier heart of the continent. From Kearney to Salt Lake, he ran a daily stage each way; over the balance of his routes, only a tri-weekly. From Salt Lake to California, about seven hundred and fifty miles more, there was also a daily stage each way, but this line was owned and run by Wells, Fargo & Co., then and still the great Express Company of the Pacific Coast. Mr. Holliday, in anticipation of the Railroad, with his wonted sagacity, was just completing the sale and transfer of all his stage-lines to Wells, Fargo & Co., whose stage-business alone thus became one gigantic enterprise, reaching from the Missouri to the Pacific, and from Salt Lake to the Columbia. What a prodigious undertaking! How colossal in its proportions! It was estimated that these lines would then foot up over three thousand miles, and to operate them would require about five hundred coaches, and fully ten thousand horses and mules, first and last. Mr. Holliday said his lines had been very profitable some years, but in others again he had lost heavily. Sometimes the Indians stole or destroyed a quarter of a million's worth of his property per annum, and then again his expenses were always necessarily enormous. Stations had to be erected and maintained, ten or fifteen miles apart, along all the routes. Grain had to be hauled, in the main, from either the Missouri or Salt Lake, although Colorado and Idaho had begun to yield something. Hay had to be transported often fifty miles, and fuel sometimes a hundred and fifty. He paid his General Superintendent ten thousand dollars per year, and his Washington Agent about the same; his Division Superintendents about half that sum; his drivers and station-keepers from seventy-five to a hundred dollars per month and their board; and then there were ten thousand and one incidental expenses besides. One would have supposed, that the oversight and management of his vast stage-enterprises would have been enough for one man to carry. But, in addition, he owned and ran a line of steam-ships on the Pacific from San Francisco to Oregon and Alaska, another to Lower California and Mexico, and was planning to get more business still. He was a man apparently of about forty-five, tall and thin, of large grasp and quick perceptions, of indifferent health but indomitable will, fiery and irascible when crossed, and a Westerner all through. Apparently he carried his vast business very jauntily, without much thought or care; but he crossed the continent twice each year, from end to end of his stage-routes, and saw for himself how matters were getting on. When he went through thus, extra teams and coaches were always held in readiness, and he had made the quickest Overland trip recorded. Time was everything with him then; horse-flesh and expense—nothing. Once he drove from Salt Lake to the Missouri, over twelve hundred miles, in six days and a half, and made the total trip from San Francisco in twelve days. The locomotive beats this now, but nothing else could. The usual schedule-time was about twenty days; but it often took two or three more.
Mr. Holladay, however, was beginning to show signs of his hard work, and on this trip had found it necessary to bring his physician along with him. Subsequently, we met him in San Francisco, still an invalid, but as hard at work as ever, and there seemed to be no end to his teeming schemes. Of course, we found these great stage-lines not always popular, because they were rapacious monopolies, ex necessitate. Nevertheless, on the whole, they accomplished a great work in their day; and, all things considered, did it cheaply and well. They have a history of their own, full of incident and adventure, that will read like romance a few years hence; and the man who will gather up all the facts, and give us a full account of them, will do the future a real service. Now, if ever, is the time to do this; for the Railroad has already done away with the main lines, and soon over all our American stage-coaching will be written "Ichabod"—its glory has departed.
Mr. Halsey, Mr. Holladay's general superintendent at Salt Lake, was about going to Boisè City to look after stage-affairs generally, and politely invited us to share his special coach. I was still feeble, and it was some days before I could leave; but finally Nov. 7th, we bade good-bye to Camp Douglas and Salt Lake, and were off for the Columbia. Once out of the city, our route struck due north, and skirted the shores of Great Salt Lake for a day or so. This great inland sea, fifty miles long by twenty wide, was on our left, while to the right rose abrupt mountains barren to the summit. The Lake itself was surrounded by marshes, abounding in water-fowl, and just then afforded excellent duck-shooting to frequent parties from the city. It was dotted with islands, several of them large and mountainous, which furnished rich pasturage for large herds of horses and cattle, belonging chiefly to Brigham Young. These beautiful islands had been "granted" to him by the Utah Legislature, as well as the exclusive right to numerous streams and cañons in other parts of the Territory, that were esteemed especially valuable. Among others, they had granted to him City Creek cañon, which contained about the only valuable timber within many miles of Salt Lake City, and now every man, who chopped a load of wood there, had to pay tribute to Brother Brigham to the tune of one dollar per cord. Along the base of the mountains, we frequently came across hot Sulphur Springs, steaming in the sharp November air, and Mr. Halsey pointed out several said to be hot enough to boil an egg. The sulphur and heat from them destroyed all vegetation around them, and also for a considerable distance along the issuing streams, that flowed thence into Great Salt Lake. Every few miles we crossed dashing rivulets, that came roaring and foaming out of the cañons, all making their way ultimately to the Lake—the common reservoir of all that basin. Great Salt Lake drains many hundreds of square miles there, receiving streams from all directions, but giving out none. Its only relief is evaporation, which of course must be enormous during the long and dry summer there. Hence its saltiness and great specific gravity, a man floating in it—it is said—very readily. Its volume that year was greater than usual, owing it was thought to a heavy rain-fall; but this year (1873), I see it reported as several feet higher, than ever before. This would seem to confirm the favorite theory of many pioneers, that as the country became settled up and cultivated, the average rain-fall constantly increased. Between the mountains and the Lake, along its whole extent, there was usually a fine broad plateau of land, and this was dotted thickly with farms to Ogden and beyond.
Ogden, now the stopping point on the Pacific Railroad for Salt Lake City, and about forty miles north of it, was then a smart little town of perhaps 1200 inhabitants, and rapidly growing larger. It was Salt Lake City over again, on a reduced scale, but evidently patterning after it, both in plan and detail. Its streets were broad and rectangular; its irrigating streams, clear and cold from the neighboring cañons; its houses, adobe or frame; and its yards and gardens, a mass of beauty and luxuriance. A general air of industry and thriftiness pervaded the little community. Everybody appeared to be constantly at work, though not very hard work. And, indeed, so far as material comfort was concerned, there seemed little ground for criticism. The supervisor and main-spring of the whole was Bishop West—a burly active man of forty, with three buxom wives, and a house-full of well-graduated children. He was a live, go-ahead business man, with little or nothing of the sacerdotal about him—owned the mill, store, and hotel there, and managed them all with rare shrewdness and energy. His hotel was a comfortable two-story adobe house, with shingle roof, and was remarkably well kept for a country tavern, all things considered. He was a heavy contractor with the stage-line, to deliver grain along at the stations between Salt Lake and Boisè City, and Mr. Halsey concluded to stop over one night to see and confer with him. He received us with generous hospitality, and was soon conversing freely upon all matters relating to Utah, aside from Mormonism. He little suspected then the good luck in store for him, by the oncoming of the Pacific Railroad, which has doubtless made him a millionaire, if he was not approaching that before. Salt Lake was then depending on the Railroad coming there, and doubtless was grievously disappointed, when it left her "out in the cold"—forty miles to the South.[13]
The Bishop's partner in many of his operations was Mr. Joseph Young, the eldest son, I believe, of Brigham. He happened at Ogden that night, and we saw considerable of him. Mr. Halsey said he was "some married" already, having four wives, and as he was still a comparatively young man—about thirty-five—might have a good many more yet. He was a tall, well-knit, resolute looking young fellow; but did not seem to be overly well stocked with brains or judgment. Nevertheless, in addition to his investments with Bishop West, he owned saw-mills in the mountains beyond Salt Lake, and was a heavy contractor with the stage-company besides for supplies elsewhere. He spoke carelessly, not to say disrespectfully, about Mormon affairs in general, and left the impression, that he might abjure the faith some day yet, when the fit occasion came. Brigham, it appears, had discarded him for the succession some time before, in favor of his younger brother, Brigham, Jr., who was said to be a much abler and discreeter man; and this, it was thought, had something to do with "Joe's" free and easy thinking.
From Ogden to Brigham City, about half way to Bear River, the country continued much the same, except that the mountains trended away more to the east, and the plateau thence to the Lake consequently became broader. Settlements continued most of the way, but the farms grew more scattered, and ran more to grazing. Wherever a stream issued from the cañons, it had been caught up and carried far up and down the plateau, to irrigate a wide breadth of land, and its application appeared always to have met with a generous return. Brigham City was a clever little town, of a thousand inhabitants or so, and in its general plan and make up was as much like Ogden as two peas. It lies on a higher bench or plateau, however, and affords a much finer prospect of the bottom country below. We halted there for dinner, and while waiting in the office a Ute Indian came in, with a noble wild goose for sale, that he had just shot in the marshes. He was a splendidly built young fellow, with nothing in the way of clothing, however, except a ragged blanket and the inevitable breech-cloth. His feet and limbs were entirely naked, and would have served well as models for a Belvidere Apollo. It was a cold raw day, with alternating rain and sleet, and no wonder the poor wretch mumbled, "Me cold; much cold!" as he huddled up to the fire. He sold his goose for two "bits," and the last we saw of him he was purchasing "smoke-tobacco" at the nearest store. We saw many lodges of Utes, while en route from Ogden to Bear River, and they all seemed to be pitiably off. As we left Brigham City, we observed a dozen squaws or more loitering around a slaughter-house on its outskirts, waiting to secure the entrails or other refuse, that the butchers might throw away. Just beyond, several more crossed the road, loaded down with great bundles of sage-brush, that they had been out gathering for fuel, while their "braves" loafed at home. "Mr. Lo" (the poor Indian!), as our borderers satirically call him, in brief, has certainly sadly deteriorated in Utah, whatever he may be elsewhere. These Utes seemed to be a taller and better class of savages naturally, than their cousins on the Rio Grande; but from contact with the Mormons they were fast disappearing, and would soon become extinct. Brigham Young was credited with saying, with his wonted shrewdness, "I can kill more injuns with a sack of flour, than a keg of gunpowder;" and no doubt he was correct. When left to themselves, as children of nature, they manage to get along somehow, on the old principle of "root pig, or die!" But when they mix with the whites, they acquire our habits and tastes in part, without learning how safely to gratify or benefit by them; and consequently, when left to themselves again, sicken and die.
From Brigham City to Bear River, the country was wilder and more unsettled; but ranches—the true forerunners of settlements—were starting up in various places. The mountain streams were smaller and fewer, but still there were enough to irrigate thousands of broad acres there yet, and to spare. Indeed, the whole country from Salt Lake to Bear River, as a rule, needs only population, to become prosperous and nourishing. The mountain streams did not seem to be a quarter utilized; and, apart from these, vast tracks of land were unused, where grazing would certainly prove profitable.
We crossed Bear River, here a broad deep stream, on a rude bridge, and were now fairly off for Boisè City. Here, eighty-three miles from Salt Lake, the road forked—one branch going to Virginia City, Montana, and the other continuing on to Boisè. The Montana travel was then much the larger, and the stages thus far went full. But the Idaho travel was light—most of her miners preferring the Columbia as a base. From Bear River quite through to Boisè, the country as a whole proved wild and sterile, with but little to recommend it, until we struck the valley of the Boisè. There were some good grazing lands here and there, judging by the "bunch" grass; but Idaho, as a rule, seemed to be a high volcanic plateau, barren and desert-like. Much of it reminded us of Bitter Creek, though here there was less alkali and old red sand-stone. There were no settlements anywhere, except the isolated stage-stations, and but little travel beyond the tri-weekly stages. The lonely stations occurred as usual, every ten or fifteen miles, but they were most dreary and dismal habitations, as a rule. They were built generally of stone, laid up loosely with clay, and often their only fuel was sage-brush and grease-wood—about the last apology for fuel on the earth. The whole region seemed destitute of timber, until you reached the Boisè, and even here there was not much to brag of. Good wholesome water seemed to be equally rare, and even at the stage-stations where they had dug for it, the water was often very unpalatable. We passed three stations, one after the other, one day, where Mr. Halsey knew the water to be bad, without essaying to drink, and finally became so thirsty that when we reached the next station, all hands sung out to the station-keepers:
"I say, men, what kind of water have you here?"
"Wall, strangers," was the reply, "Honor bright, it is not much to brag of! It is a heap alkali, and right smart warm; but we manage to drink it, when it cools a little. It's altogether, you see, in gitten used to it; you bet!"
But as we hadn't got "used to it" yet, and hadn't time to wait, we concluded to pass on to the next station. At most of the stations, the only persons were two stock-tenders or stable-hands, and sometimes only one. At Maláde, however, as we halted there one cold and blustering night, we were agreeably surprised to find a blazing fire and an excellent meal, that gained all the more by contrast with the forlorn and cheerless stations, that greeted us elsewhere. A neat and tidy woman, with an instinct of true refinement about her, was the simple explanation. But how she came to drop down into that desolate station, with a husband and two or three children, will always remain one of the inexplicable mysteries of the Universe to me.
We were now on the old and well-travelled Emigrant Trail from the Missouri to Oregon. But emigration that way had mostly ceased, and the general unattractiveness of the country was shown, by its leaving no settlements behind. Much of the route had always been a natural road across the plateaus; but in crossing the "divides" and descending into the abrupt valleys, considerable digging and blasting had been done here and there. We neither saw nor heard of any Indians, and I judge the country as a whole was always too barren and desolate to support any thing but wolves. Night after night we heard these howling around us, and sometimes by day a single cayote would skulk across the road; but they took good care to give our Remingtons and Spencers a wide berth. How the cayotes or wolves of these plateaus, and of the Plains, manage to live, it is hard to say. There seems little for them to subsist on ordinarily. And yet camp where you will at night, an hour afterwards the whole surrounding landscape becomes vocal with them. First, it is a solitary yelp, and then a constantly widening chorus, until thousands of the cowards seem to be on the bark. One night we got out to walk, over a piece of extra bad road, and as we rounded a rocky point toward the coming station, suddenly a score or more of them opened on us at once. It was pitchy dark, and the suddenness of their onset certainly startled us; but we sent them our compliments in the direction of the sound, from a Spencer carbine and two revolvers, and that was the last we heard of them. The Indians sometimes counterfeit their howling, in order to take travellers unawares; but otherwise, however startling, there seemed to be little real danger about it, as they seldom or never attack a man.
We crossed Snake River on a rude ferry-boat, stage and all, and found it to be there some two or three hundred yards wide, by perhaps forty feet deep. Its banks were abrupt—its water of the same pea-green, as that at Niagara. It was skirted by narrow bottoms on either side, and then came precipitous basaltic walls, hundreds of feet high to the plateau above. This plateau again was of the same sterile character, as the country already passed over—devoid of animal and vegetable life, except wolves, sage-brush and grease-wood, and even these didn't seem much inclined to nourish there. The Snake itself seemed to be an abrupt cut, through the heart of a vast volcanic plateau, as if following in the track of some ancient earthquake.
Snake River Station was on the north side, just at the foot of the high basaltic bluff, which here rears its majestic front six hundred feet or more perpendicularly into the air. Half way up, a small river bursts forth, and descends in a beautiful cascade two or three hundred feet, whence it rushes like an arrow down the broken, rocky hillside, and so off to the Snake itself. This fleecy waterfall, against the black basaltic bluff, is the first object that strikes you, as you descend into the valley of the Snake, and is a charming feature of the landscape just there. Our route lay along the Snake for many miles, and at several other points we observed similar cascades, on both sides of the river, though none so large or lofty as this. The conclusion seems inevitable, that subterranean streams, having their sources in the far away Mountains, pervade all this barren region; and could these be tapped and brought to the surface, all these plateaus might be made cultivable and fertile. No doubt a way of doing this, by artesian-wells or otherwise, will be found in the future, when the continent fills up more, and Idaho becomes necessary. But these cascades could be utilized immediately, to irrigate much of the bottoms of the Snake at trifling expense, if anybody chose to settle there. These bottoms, as a rule, appeared very rich; but in the absence of rain there for months, were no better than a dust heap. At Snake River Station, indeed, attempts had been made to raise potatoes, and other garden vegetables, and the results seemed encouraging. No doubt, rye, oats, barley, and flax might be grown there thus very readily; but probably the region is too elevated, and too far north, for the more delicate cereals to succeed well.
The great American Falls of Snake River were twenty miles or so farther up, and, much to our regret, we failed to reach them. Mr. Halsey intended taking us that way, but he was already overdue in Boisè, and as I myself had lost a fortnight by illness at Salt Lake, and the weather was threatening, we concluded to hasten on. These falls have been described by some travellers, as much superior to Niagara; but the station-keeper at Snake River said he had visited them the previous spring, and they seemed to him to be only about a hundred feet or so in height in all. He described them, as consisting of two Falls—the first about twenty-five feet high, with foaming rapids to the second or main fall, which itself then goes down perhaps seventy-five feet or so more. He said, however, that a party of soldiers, from an adjacent post, had measured them only a few weeks before, and they reported them as one hundred and ninety-four feet high in all, by perhaps two hundred yards wide, and with the black basaltic walls of the cañon rising some six hundred feet above them still, on either side. During seasons of high water, this would make them quite worthy, indeed, of their great reputation. But the volume of water there for many months in the year must be so small, that it is to be doubted whether they ordinarily approach the grandeur and sublimity of majestic old Niagara. However, Idahoans set great store by these Falls, as the chief wonder of all that region; and as the country just there has little else to brag of, perhaps it is well not to gainsay them.
From the Snake to the Boisè, as already intimated, the country was, if anything, still more barren and desolate, than the region we had just passed over. In some places, it was strewn thick for miles with black volcanic stones and rocks, glazed and scarred by ancient fires, with no signs of ordinary animal or vegetable life anywhere. In such localities, the wolves disappeared, and even the inevitable sage-brush and grease-wood disdained to grow; or, if they grew at all, only eked out a miserable existence. Once across this high "divide," however, we struck the valley of the Boisè, which soon introduced us to an excellent region again, and as we neared Boisè City we found ranches and farms everywhere thickening up. Horses and cattle were out grazing by the roadside in considerable numbers, and down in the bottoms frequent squads of stacks indicated, that goodly crops of hay and grain had been cut and harvested. Wagons now appeared again on the road, as beyond Bear River, (we had not met a single one since leaving there), and people flocked to the doors and windows as the stage rolled by. Once across the "divide" between the Snake and Boisè, the whole country sloped gently to the Boisè, and we spun along and down these descending grades at a splendid gait. We made one hundred and twenty miles, in the last twenty-two hours out from Boisè City, and rolled up to the Overland House with our last team as fresh and gamey as stallions.
Our general ride from Bear River, however, was hardly an enviable one. There were but three of us—Mr. Halsey, myself, and L. We had mattrasses along, which we carried on top by day, and at night arranged into a passable bed. So, too, we had india-rubber pillows, and robes and blankets in abundance. But the weather was very disagreeable, even for the season, and though convalescent I yet found myself far from strong. We left Bear River about 10 p. m., in an ugly storm of rain and sleet, well tucked in for a night's ride; but in an hour or so were roused up by the stage coming to a dead-halt, and the driver singing out—it sounded half-maliciously—"Good place to walk, gents! Bad place ahead!" Out we got for a dismal walk of a mile or more, through a soft and yielding bottom, where the horses could hardly pull the empty coach through, and then in again with muddy boots and disgusted feelings generally. Just before daybreak, we struck a long and steep "divide," where the sleet had thickened into snow, without stiffening the ground enough to bear the coach up, and here again we had another cheerful walk of a couple of miles or so, to relieve the blown horses. At King Hill, the last serious "divide" before reaching Boisè, we had another promenade of a mile or two, through five or six inches of snow, just after midnight; but I managed to stick by the stage. The weather continued raw and cold, rainy and sleety, by turns, and we found it necessary to keep well wrapped up, except in the middle of the day. At night our mattrasses proved too narrow for three, after all, and Halsey's shoulders or knees were constantly punching into either L. or me. He and L. usually slept right along all night, but I got scarcely a genteel wink from Bear River to Boisè. By sunrise ordinarily we were up, and then came a general smoke and talk over the night's experience. By nine or ten a. m. we halted for breakfast, which usually consisted of chicory coffee, stringy beef or bacon, and saleratus-biscuit. Sometimes we got fried potatoes in addition—which helped the meal out somewhat—but not often. Late at night we stopped for dinner (only two meals a day), which was generally only a poor edition of breakfast over again, with the courses perchance reversed. Bilious and aguish with that accursed mountain-fever still hanging about me, I need scarcely say, I had little relish for such a bill of fare, and indeed scarcely ate a "square meal" from Bear River to Boisè. Fortunately, among other extras, Mr. Halsey had had the forethought to lay in a half a bushel of apples, just fresh from the tree at Salt Lake, and these we all munched ad libitum as we journeyed along. They were always juicy and cool, piquant and delicious, when nothing else was palatable; and for my part, I really don't see, how I would have got through without them. We were three days and three nights on the road continuously, never stopping except forty minutes or so at a time for meals. The last twenty-four hours out, the weather was raw and cold even for November; and as we rolled into Boisè, with every joint aching, the lights of a town never seemed more winning and welcome. At the Overland House, they were already full. But they gave us a good hot supper, followed by a "shake-down" in the parlor, and every comfort at their disposal.