"An aching, blinding, barren, endless plain;
Corpse-colored with white mould of alkali,
Hairy with sage-brush, shiny after rain,
Burnt with the sky's hot scorn, and still again
Sullenly burning back against the sky.
"Dull green, dull brown, dull purple, and dull gray,
The hard earth white with ages of despair,
Slow-crawling, turbid streams where dead reeds sway,
Low wall of sombre mountains far away,
And sickly steam of geysers on the air."
In due time we reached Ogden, a busy-looking place. We did not leave
our car, however, for any inspection, waiting for the short run to Salt
Lake City, where we were to spend the night and the next day.
In the midst of all the car-tracks, and the many signs of commercial
activity, a capering Indian, with a blanket flung round his shoulders,
amused us by his childish glee and activity. He was in the exuberance
of his wild freedom, among all the business and anxieties which
civilization brings. What did he care for it all! He was having a good
run, and, for the fun of it, was racing with a young fellow on
horseback, and was making rather good time, too. I was interested in
this child of the past, this offspring of wild life, as without thought
or heed for anything but the present moment, he lived out his day.
In a short time we were at the city of the Mormons, seeing in the
distance, as we approached it, the spectral waters of the Great Salt
Lake.