if it had been running over miles of ice, and by comparison the August
sun seemed fiery; but these things were soon forgotten, for at once the
excitement of casting a fly began. It is almost as much pleasure to put
a little fly just where you want it, as it is to catch the fish. My rod
and reel were in perfect condition--Faye had seen to that--and my book
of flies was complete, and with charming companions and a stream full
of trout, a day of unusual pleasure was assured. We were obliged to wade
every step, as the banks of the stream had walls of boulders and thick
bushes. Most of the stream was not very deep, but was a foamy, roaring
torrent, rushing over the small rocks and around the large ones, with
little, still, dark places along the banks--ideal homes for the mountain
trout. We found a few deep pools that looked most harmless, but the
current in them was swift and dangerous to those who could not always
keep their balance. It was most difficult for me to walk on the slippery
stones at first, and I had many a fall; but Mrs. Ord, being heavy,
avoided upsets very nicely. At times we would be in water above our
waists, and then Mrs. Ord and I would fall back with General Stanley for
protection, who alternately praised and laughed at us during the whole
day. Mrs. Ord was very quick to learn where and how to cast a fly, and
I was delighted to let General Stanley see that grasshoppers were not at
all necessary to my success in fishing.
We sat upon a big, flat rock at luncheon, and were thankful that General
Stanley was a tall man and could keep the box of sandwiches from getting
wet. When we toppled over he always came to our assistance, so at times
his wading boots were not of much use to him. Mrs. Ord was far ahead of
me in number of fish, and General Stanley said that I had better keep
up with her, if I wished. The stream had broadened out some, so finally
Mrs. Ord whipped the left side, which is easier casting, and I whipped
the right. We waded down the entire five miles, and Mrs. Ord, who
had the stream most of the time, caught sixty-four trout and I caught
fifty-six, and General Stanley picked up fourteen, after our splashing
and frightening away the fish we did not catch. The trout were small,
but wonderfully full of fight in that cold water. Of course General
Stanley carried them for us. The driver had been ordered to keep within
call on the trail, as General Stanley thought it would be impossible for
Mrs. Ord and me to wade the five miles; but the distance seemed short to
us; we never once thought of being tired, and it was with great regret
we reeled in our lines.
There was a beaver dam above the picnic camp, and before we came to it I
happened to get near the bank, where I saw in the mud the impression of
a huge paw. It was larger than a tea plate, and was so fresh one could
easily see where the nails had been. I asked General Stanley to look at
it, but he said, "That? oh, that is only the paw of a cub--he has been
down after fish." At once I discovered that the middle of the stream was
most attractive, and there I went, and carefully remained there the rest
of the way down. If the paw of a mere "cub" could be that enormous size,
what might not be the size of an ordinary grown-up bear, paws included!
Mrs. Ord declared that she rather liked little bears--they were so
cunning and playful--but I noticed she avoided the banks, also.
We had left dry clothing at the small camp, and when we returned we
found nice little retreats all ready for us, made of cloaks and things,
in among the boulders and bushes. There were cups of delicious hot tea,
too; but we were not cold, and the most astonishing thing about that
whole grand day is, we did not feel stiff or the slightest discomfort
in any form after it. The tramp was long and the water cold, and my own
baths many. I might have saved myself, sometimes, from going all the way
down had I not been afraid of breaking my rod, which I always held high
when I fell. The day was one to be remembered by Mrs. Ord and me. We had
thought all the time that General Stanley was making a great sacrifice
by giving up a day's sport for our amusement, and that it was so kind of
him, for, of course he could not be enjoying the day; but it seems that
he had sport of which we knew nothing until the following day--in fact,
we know nothing about it yet! But he began to tell the most absurd
stories of what we did, and we must have done many unusual things, for
he is still entertaining the camp with them. He was very proud of us,
nevertheless, and says so often. The ride of twelve miles back to camp
seemed endless, for as soon as the excitement of the stream was over we
found that we were tired--awfully tired.
We have only a few weeks more of this delightful life. The hunting is
excellent, too, and Faye and Captain Rives often bring in large bags of
mountain grouse and young sage hens. The sage chicken are as tender and
delicious as partridge before they begin to feed upon wild sage in the
fall, but one short day in the brush makes them different birds and
wholly unpalatable. We often send birds, and fish also, to friends at
Fort Bridger, who were most hospitable the day we arrived, and before
coming to camp.
I had quite forgotten the wedding yesterday! It was at Fort Bridger, and
the bride, a daughter of the post trader, is related to several families
of social position at Omaha. We put on the very prettiest gowns we had
with us, but the effect was disappointing, for our red faces looked
redder than ever above delicate laces and silks. The ceremony was
at noon--was very pretty--and everything passed off beautifully. The
breakfast was delicious, and we wondered at the dainty dishes served so
far from a caterer. The house was not large, and every bit of air had
been shut out by darkening the windows, but we were spared the heat and
smell of lamps on the hot day by the rooms being lighted by hundreds
of candles, each one with a pretty white shade. But some of us felt
smothered, and as soon as the affair was over, started immediately for
the camp, where we could have exhilarating mountain air once more.
It was really one whole day stolen from our outing! We can always have
crowded rooms, receptions, and breakfasts, wherever we happen to be in
the East, but when again will we be in a glorious camp like this--and
our days here are to be so few! From here we are to go to Salt Lake City
for a week or two.
THE WALKER HOUSE, SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH. September, 1888.
THE weather is still very warm, but not hot enough to keep us from going
to the lake as usual this morning. The ride is about eighteen miles
long, and is always more or less pleasant. The cars, often long trains,
are narrow gauge, open, and airy. The bathing is delightful, but wholly
unlike anything to be found elsewhere. The wonderfully clear water is
cool and exhilarating, but to swim in it is impossible, it is so heavy
from its large percentage of salt. So every one floats, but not at all
as one floats in other waters. We lie upon our backs, of course--at
least we think we do--but our feet are always out of the water, and our
heads straight up, with large straw hats upon them.
They have a way of forming human chains on the water that often startles
one at first. They are made by hooking one's arms close to the shoulder
over the ankles of another person, still another body hooking on to you,
and so on. Then each one will stretch his or her arms out and paddle
backward, and in this way we can go about without much effort, and can
see all the funny things going on around us. As I am rather tall,
second position in a chain is almost always given to me, and my first
acquaintance with masculine toes close to my face came very near being
disastrous. The feet stood straight up, and the toes looked so very
funny, with now and then a twitch back or front, that soon I wanted
to laugh, and the more I tried not to the more hysterical I became. My
shoulders were shaking, and the owner of the toes--a pompous man--began
to suspect that I was laughing and probably at the toes. Still he
continued to twist them around--one under the other--in an astonishing
way, that made them fascinating. The head of the chain--the pompous
man--became ominously silent. At last I said, almost sobbing, "Can't
you see for yourself how funny all those things are in front of us? They
look like wings in their pin-feather stage--only they are on the wrong
side--and I am wondering if the black stockings would make real black
wings--and what some of us would do with them, after all!" After that
there was less pompous dignity and less hysteria, although the toes
continued to wigwag.
It is a sight that repays one to watch, when dozens of these
chains--some long, some short--are paddling about on the blue water that
is often without a ripple. It is impossible to drown, for sink in it you
cannot, but to get the brine in one's nose and throat is dangerous, as
it easily causes strangulation, particularly if the person is at all
nervous. We wear little bits of cotton in our ears to prevent the
water from getting in, for the crust of salt it would leave might cause
intense pain.
Bathing in water so salt makes one both hungry and sleepy, therefore it
is considered quite the correct thing to eat hot popcorn, and snooze
on the return trip. We get the popcorn at the pavilion, put up in
attractive little bags, and it is always crisp and delicious. Just
imagine a long open car full of people, each man, woman, and child
greedily munching the tender corn! By the time one bag full has been
eaten, heads begin to wobble, and soon there is a "Land of Nod"--real
nod, too. Some days, when the air is particularly soft and balmy,
everyone in the car will be oblivious of his whereabouts. Not one stop
is made from the lake to the city.
Faye and I were at the lake almost a week--Garfield Beach the bathing
place is called---so I could make a few water-color drawings early in
the morning, when the tints on the water are so pearly and exquisitely
delicate. During the day the lake is usually a wonderful blue--deep
and brilliant--and the colors at sunset are past description. The sun
disappears back of the Oquirah Mountains in a world of glorious yellow
and orange, and as twilight comes on, the mountains take on violet and
purple shades that become deeper and deeper, until night covers all from
sight.
There was not a vacant room at Garfield Beach, so they gave us two large
rooms at Black Rock--almost one mile away, but on the car line. The
rooms were in a low, long building, that might easily be mistaken for
soldiers' barracks, and which had broad verandas with low roofs all
along both sides. That queer building had been built by Brigham Young
for his seven wives! It consisted of seven apartments of two rooms each,
a sitting room and sleeping room; all the sitting rooms were on one
side, opening out upon the one veranda, and the bedrooms were on the
other side and opened out upon the other veranda. These apartments did
not connect in any way, except by the two porches. Not far from that
building was another that had once been the dining room and kitchen
of the seven wives. These mormon women must be simply idiotic, or have
their tempers under good control!
It was all most interesting and a remarkable experience to have lived
in one of Brigham Young's very own houses. But the place was
ghostly--lonesome beyond everything--and when the wind moaned and sighed
through the rooms one could fancy it was the wailing of the spirits
of those seven wretched wives. When we returned at night to the dark,
unoccupied building, it seemed more spooky than ever, after the
music and light at Garfield Beach. Our meals were served to us at the
restaurant at the pavilion. I made some very good sketches of the lake,
Antelope Island, and a number of the wonderful Black Rock that is out in
the lake opposite the Brigham Young house.
About two miles from the city, and upon the side of the Wasatch
Mountains, is Camp Douglas, an army post, which the new department
commander came to inspect. The inspection was in the morning, and we
all went to see it, and were driven in the post with the booming of
cannon--the salute always given a brigadier general when he enters a
post officially. It was pretty to see the general's wife partly cover
her ears, and pretend that she did not like the noise, when all the time
her eyes were sparkling, and we knew that every roar of the big guns
added to her pride. If all those guns had been for Faye I could never
have stayed in the ambulance.
It is charming up there--in the post--and the view is magnificent. We
sat out on a vine-covered porch during the inspection, and watched the
troops and the review. It made me so happy, and yet so homesick, too, to
see Faye once more in his uniform. The inspection was all too short, and
after it was over, many officers and their wives came to call upon us,
when wine and delicious cake was served. We were at the quarters of the
colonel and post commander. That was the second post we had taken Mrs.
Ord to, and she is suddenly enthusiastic over army people, forgetting
that Omaha has a post of its own. But with us she has been in the tail
of the comet--which made things more interesting. Army people are nice,
though, particularly in their own little garrison homes.
There is only one mormon store here, and that is very large and
cooperative. Every mormon who has anything whatever to sell is compelled
to take it to that store to be appraised, and a percentage taken from
it. There are a few nice gentile shops, but mormons cannot enter them;
they can purchase only at the mormon store, where the gentiles are ever
cordially welcomed also. Splendid fruit and vegetables are grown in this
valley--especially the fruit, which is superior to any we ever saw. The
grapes are of many varieties, each one large and rich with flavor, and
the peaches and big yellow pears are most luscious. Upon our table down
in the dining room there is always an immense glass bowl of selected
fruit--peaches, pears, and grapes, and each time we go down it seems to
look more attractive.
We have been to see the tabernacle, with its marvelous acoustic
properties, and the temple, which is not yet finished. The immense pipe
organ in the tabernacle was built where it now stands, and entirely by
mormons. From Brigham Young's old home a grand boulevard runs, through
the city, across the valley, and over the hill far away, and how much
beyond I do not know. This road, so broad and white, Brigham Young said
would lead to Jerusalem. They have a river Jordan here, too, a little
stream that runs just outside the city.
There are grand trees in every street, and every old yard, and one
cannot help feeling great indignation to see where in some places the
incoming gentiles have cut trees down to make space for modern showy
buildings, that are so wholly out of harmony with the low, artistic
white houses and vine-covered walls. It is such a pity that these high,
red buildings could not have been kept outside, and the old mormon city
left in its original quaint beauty.
We will return to Omaha soon now, and I shall at once become busy with
preparations for the winter East. I have decided to go home in October,
so I can have a long, comfortable visit before going to Washington.
Faye wishes me to join him there the last of December. I am not very
enthusiastic over the prospect of crowded rooms, daily receptions and
"teas," and other affairs of more formality. But since I cannot return
to the plains, I might as well go to the city, where we will meet people
of culture, see the fascinating Diplomatic Corps, and be presented
to the President's beautiful young wife. Later on there will be the
inauguration--for we expect to pass the winter in Washington.
THE END