CHAPTER XXXI.

"All that's bright must fade,

The brightest, still the fleetest;

All that's sweet was made,

But to be lost, when sweetest."

We returned to Sacramento with minds refreshed and spirits brightened by

the delightful scenes through which we had passed during our coast trip.

My life seemed to have received new radiance, and all things wore the

bright "couleur de rose," when one day there seemed something in Hattie's

touching tone which, like the "shadow of coming" events, sent through my

heart a strange, premonitory thrill of sadness. She paused as if for

prayerful preparation, ere she said: "Mary, I have something _sad_,

something _terrible_ to tell you, and I wish to prepare you to bear it

with patience, even as I for five months have borne the burden with silent

submission." She then carefully, calmly, quietly revealed to me the fact

that there was feeding upon her dear life one of those horrible vampires

of human disease--a cancer, which was slowly but surely drawing her nearer

the close. Suddenly all brightness and beauty died out for me, while cloud

and gloom gathered around me, deep, dark and impenetrable; for so had

Hattie entwined herself about my heart, that to my darkened days there

seemed for me no light, no life without her. Surely--

"Sorrows come not single spies,

But in battalions,"

And while I felt myself overwhelmed by this one deep grief in quick

succession came another. One morning while at our breakfast, and without

the slightest preparation, tidings was brought to me that Chicago was

destroyed by fire.

My husband had just completed our new home, a comfortable resting place,

with lovely garden and pleasant surroundings, and thither I had hoped ere

long to go and rest from my labors. Daily, as the diagrams of the fire

reached us, we traced upon them the loved site of our home, as in the

burnt district.

All telegraphic and mail communication being cut off, we could receive no

direct news, and in the intensity and terror of suspense pictured our home

desolated, and friends perished in the horrible holocaust.

Feeling that a resumption of our life of labor was inevitable, we parted

with the dear Sacramento friends, who had so kindly clung to us for

fourteen months, with many a sigh and tear, and went to all the towns of

importance between that place and Reno, Nevada, at which point we took the

stage for Virginia City, and reached it after two weeks of inexpressible

agony, during which time food had scarce passed our lips or sleep visited

our eyes. On our arrival we were overjoyed to find awaiting us seven

letters from home. Oh the eternity that elapsed before the seals could be

tremulously broken! and the halcyon sweetness of relief of the happy

tidings of friends in safety and health. Although the fire-fiend had swept

his destructive wings over the property within a hundred yards of our

home, through a sudden shifting of the wind its course had been changed,

thus saving us from what would have seemed to me ruin. Gratefully we

resumed our business and remained for seven weeks in Virginia City and

vicinity, where we had most abundant success, for in spite of rock and

ledge, sand and tornado, the country abounds in full purses and warm

hearts.

At Carson City we found an United States Mint, where a gentleman

designated Saturday afternoon, when the machinery was stopped, as a proper

time to give us the benefit of a full examination, allowing me to touch

everything, and giving a satisfactory explanation of the "modus operandi"

of money making.

We went to Battle Mountain, where we took the stage for Austin, ninety

miles distant. We had nine passengers and twelve hundred weight of bullion

in the bottom of the stage, together with innumerable satchels, umbrellas

and brown-paper parcels. In this cramped position we traveled from one

o'clock in the afternoon until nine o'clock the next morning, an

infliction that was only rendered endurable by having a relay of horses

every fifteen miles, and being permitted to rest upon terra firma during

the changes.

At Austin we unexpectedly met in the family of the hotel proprietor

friends of Hattie, from Illinois. The kind host proved to me a "Good

Samaritan," for finding myself unable to walk he carried me in his arms to

the hotel, and safely entrusted me to the ministering care of his kind

family.

Desiring to cross over the country to Eureka, and the stage not venturing

to the eminence upon which stood our hotel, we were obliged to go to the

express office to take passage, where we were shocked at the sight of

three maudlin men in an advanced stage of inebriety, throwing showers of

silver money upon the ground, and ostentatiously allowing the crowd to

gather it up; while we were still more shocked to find that they were to

be inside passengers, and our only companions.

With these three men and their "fade mecum," "the whiskey bottle," we

started on our journey that bleak, winter morning. Two of them soon became

so beastly drunk that their bottle fell out of the stage door and was

lost beyond recovery. Their companion remained for a time sufficiently

sober to prevent them from falling upon us in their constant oscillations,

but, by the time they had reached the convalescent stage, he became so

nauseated that it was necessary to hold his head out of the window for

relief, and, finally yielding to the soporific influence of his drams, he

laid himself at full length upon our feet.

Meantime a most gentlemanly person, of whose presence we were at first

ignorant, would occasionally descend from the stage top, look at us

compassionately, ask if anything was wanted, and take leave. At one of his

calls I asked him if we were not near our dining place, when, much to our

discomfort, he informed us of the impossibility of finding anything to eat

on the road. We had provided no lunch, and, having partaken of a meagre

and untimely breakfast, were fast becoming exhausted. He politely offered

to share with us his store of provisions, and at the next stopping place

escorted us to the rude log cabin with the air of a Knight Errant, took

off our rubbers, placed them before the fire, and after other

indescribable and delicate attentions opened his basket and spread before

us a lunch of truly, royal viands, which, in spite of our rude

surroundings, was eaten with unrivalled relish.

Arriving at Eureka, we stopped at the Parker House, in which Mr. Hinckley,

the proprietor, made every exertion to secure our comfort. It had rained

for a week, and the streets were in such a horrible condition that we were

filled with forebodings of failure. Quite unexpectedly we again

encountered our cavalier, who insisted upon lifting us over the deep mud

of the crossings, placing us entirely at ease by the assurance that it was

the custom of the country, after which he offered his assistance in the

sale of books, and, going into a faro bank, he sold twelve copies at a

dollar and a half apiece.

We described this gallant gentleman to Mr. Hinckley, who informed us that

he was Pete Fryer, the most noted gambler of the Pacific coast, whose

unrivalled success and universal popularity were in a great degree owing

to his sobriety, his elegant presence and polished manner.

Our next move was to Gold Point, where we spent a day. We met there a

Virginia physician with whom we had a long and interesting conversation.

We were boarders at the same hotel, and at the tea table he came over to

Hattie, and placing in her hand a ten dollar gold piece, said it was for

the blind lady, and he wished her to buy with it a keepsake. We went to

Palisades in a mud-wagon, the only means of transportation at our

disposal, and we found it highly appropriate, the mud being over the hubs

of the wheels.

In this primitive style we reached our destination upon Christmas Eve,

weary and homesick; yet our Christmas dinner in this insignificant town

was choice and _recherche_, the quality and variety of the wines being

worthy of the cellar of a connoisseur. Our business success here was

greater than in many larger towns.

We visited the places en route to Ogden, and on our arrival there found

snow almost two feet deep, and hundreds anxiously waiting for the arrival

of the Union Pacific train, which had not been in for two weeks. The

hotels were so intensely crowded that we were forced to wade through snow

over our knees for half a day to find a comfortable place to stay, and

were very thankful for a third rate boarding house.

The next day, when almost in despair, we heard in the distance the welcome

sound of a locomotive whistle. The gentlemen rushed to the depot and soon

bore us the pleasant tidings that the train would leave in two hours and a

half. We hurriedly gathered together our baggage and sufficient supplies

for a week, arriving at the train just in time to secure a section in the

sleeping-car. Hoping for no more delay, we started, but ere long found

ourselves landed in a snow bank, with five trains ahead of us, in the same

predicament. A three-days stand-still of this kind, with its trying

tedium, can be imagined only by those who have been similarly situated,

and its tedium is equaled by nothing but an Ohio River sand bar

imprisonment on a stern wheel steamer.

My sensibilities had quite a reawakening jog from an incidental abrasure,

received by coming in contact with one of the acute angles in the person

of Miss Susan B. Anthony, who honored us with her distinguished presence.

She was in company with the family of the Honorable Mr. Sargent, United

States Senator from California. This gentleman evinced great native

delicacy in his quiet, unobtrusive attentions. Miss Susan had been very

impatient at the long delay, and constantly berated the male sex and their

inadequacy to great emergencies, and was offered by the complimented

parties the privilege of engineering the train, an honor she respectfully

declined. One day I was saluted by a voice, not sweetly feminine in tone,

while an impetuous hand pitched, at me one of my own books. The voice

asked:

"Were you ever in Michigan? Are you married? I knew a blind woman there

who had five children, and they were all deaf and dumb! _I think_ Congress

ought to pass a law to prevent these people from marrying and bringing

such _creatures_ into the world!"

These burning words came with the fierce force of the tornado and the

horrible heat of the simoon. So abruptly had she taken her leave, that

she was beyond hearing before I could sufficiently recover to reply. Words

I would have spoken burned upon my lips, and emotions welled up from the

depths of an affection as deep, true and unfathomable as ever struggled in

such a heart as that of Susan B. Anthony.

Long did I dwell upon the cruel words, wondering if they could have

emanated from a woman who advocated the inviolable rights and bewailed the

deep wrongs of her own sex, or if Congress had the power to exclude the

blind from loving and following the holiest impulses of their natures,

like other human beings!

After our extrication we sped on to Sherman, the highest of the mountain

towns, and the Railroad Company treated us to a dinner, which, although

poor, was much relished, after our protracted dieting. After leaving

Laramie we had another delay of two days' length, after which we went via

Cheyenne to Omaha, rejoicing, and after eleven days of weary travel felt

ourselves really homeward bound.

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