Saturday, September 3.
We came through a deep, dark cañon this morning, and passed the grave
of a man that was robbed and murdered last week. It is the deepest and
darkest cañon we have traveled through. Ten men have been robbed and
murdered in it in the last two years. We were in no danger of being
molested. Only men who have their fortunes in gold about their person
are intercepted, robbed and killed. How awful it seems. Why will men be
so wicked?
In several places in the cañon the road has been widened with pick
and shovel, perhaps two or three days’ work done, and we had to pay
ten dollars toll for our two wagons passing over it. We stopped at
noon on Black Tail Deer Creek. Are camping on the Sweet Water, about
twenty-five miles from Virginia City. This is a beautiful place. There
are fine large trees along the creek, high mountains around a lovely
dale. It is just large enough for a fine farm. There is a deserted
cabin here, where some one commenced improving a farm, became homesick
and discouraged, and left it for some one else.
* * * * *
Sunday, September 4.
We are camping within seven miles of Virginia City, near a freight
train of about fifty wagons, with from seventy-five to one hundred
people all together, men, women and children, returning to the States.
To hear these people talk of the disadvantages and disagreeable things
with regard to life in Montana, would have a tendency to discourage
one, if it were not so palpable that they are homesick, and everyone
knows that when that disease is fairly developed, everything is
colored with a deep dark blue, and even pleasant things seem extremely
disagreeable to the afflicted person. The ladies seem to have the
disease in its worst form, and of course they make the gentlemen do as
they wish, which is to take them home to mother and other dear ones.
We have had a very pleasant day, about as pleasant as the day we
started on this journey, the first day of May. It is cheering that the
first and last days of our journeying should be so lovely. After four
months and four days of living outdoors we are all in the most robust
health. Yet we shall be glad to have a roof over our heads once more,
even if it is a dirt roof.
* * * * *
Monday, September 5.
Noon.--Here we are camping in the suburbs of the city, in Alder Gulch,
where the miners are at work. How I wish my descriptive powers were
adequate to making those who have never seen gulch-mining see as I see,
and realize the impression made upon me as I first looked into the
gulch at the miners at work. There is a temporary bridge (very shaky)
across the gulch that wagons may pass over. Standing on this bridge,
in the middle of the gulch, looking up and down, and even beneath my
feet, the scene is a lively one. So many men, it seems they would be
in each other’s way. They remind one of bees around a hive. And such
active work. It seemed that not one of that great multitude stopped for
one instant shoveling and wheeling dirt, passing and repassing each
other without a hitch. It made me tired to look at them. The ground is
literally turned inside out; great deep holes and high heaps of dirt.
The mines are said to be very rich.
2 P. M.--We dined at noon to-day. Had beefsteak at fifty cents per
pound and potatoes at twenty-five cents. I do not know if the price had
anything to do with it, but it certainly tasted better than any I ever
ate before.
I interviewed a woman--or rather she interviewed me--that lives near
where we are camping. She said her name is Neihart. Her husband is a
miner and earns seven dollars per day. Judging from the manner in which
they seem to live, they ought to save at least five of it. I presume I
did not make a very favorable impression, for after I came back to camp
she called across the street to her neighbor--so we could hear what
she said:
“Some more aristocrats. They didn’t come here to work. Going to teach
school and play lady,” with great contempt in her voice.
I laughed at the first impression made, and tried to realize that
teaching is not work.