Johan hastened to follow the good advice and Buffalo Bill, and said
with diplomatic artifice, "On second thoughts, sir, I will not refuse
your invitation, as I am a little thirsty." On which the three
gentlemen went out together.
Johan came back refreshed and radiant. Never had he seen or talked to
such a delightful person. Buffalo Bill had offered him some of his own
favorite brand of whisky, which Johan found very good.
Johan asked B.B. later, being on more familiar terms, "Would you have
been offended if I had refused to drink with you?"
B.B. answered, "If I had not seen that you were a foreigner I should
not have liked it," meaning, I suppose, bloody murder and sudden death.
B.B. said the reason why he had chosen Johan out of the rest to drink
with was that Johan looked so like the Grand-Duke Alexis, for whom he
had been a guide on the prairies some years ago.
General Taylor, son of the former President, joined us at Cheyenne.
* * * * *
We have just passed thirty snow-sheds at Rock Creek, and have seen some
wolves and some antelopes roaming about. We looked for buffaloes, but
the only buffalo we saw was the mild Bill, who sat quietly reading a
magazine, looking at us with his soft-brown eyes.
We were very high up in the Rocky Mountains. All around us was snow,
and the view of the blue mountains, the tops of which were quite white,
looked beautiful in the distance. There were some Indians on horseback
drawn up in file as the train went by. They had all their war-paint on,
were covered with picturesque blankets, and their feather head-dresses
reached over their horses' backs; they had buckskin leggings covered
with beads, which made them look very picturesque. They looked stolidly
and indifferently at us while we stared at them admiringly from the car
windows. The prairie-dogs looked like squirrels "sitting up so cute,"
as Miss C. said, "dodging in and out of their holes."
At one of the stations a whole band of Indians climbed into the train
with guttural war-whoops and invaded the baggage-car. We thought we
were being "held up," but they behaved themselves very well. The
thought of Buffalo Bill, to say nothing of Mr. Holmes of Texas with his
pistols, reassured us; and the only difference that the presence of the
Indians made to us was that we avoided the baggage-car for our midday
meal.
At another station a quantity of loafers, mostly Indians, smelling
dreadfully of whisky, surrounded us and begged for money. Among them an
old Indian woman who looked like the witch of Endor (they said she was
over a hundred years old) stretched out a long, bony, orang-outang arm,
and when we gave her a few cents the old thing actually grinned with
joy. It was painful to see this creature with the accumulated look of
greed on her withered old brown face.
Our baggage-master always kept his hat on, slouched at a tremendous
angle. We wondered how it could keep on unless it was pinned to his
ear. Mr. Kasson begged us to pretend not to notice it, because the man
was very sensitive on the subject. He told us his story. The man had
been fishing with some friends, near an Indian settlement, when the
Indians attacked them and killed the others outright. The
baggage-master saved his life by "playing 'possum" (as Mr. K. called
pretending to be dead), and the Indians scalped him with a broken tin
can. If he had made the slightest movement they would have despatched
him. How horrible! We wondered if it could be true!
To-morrow "the distinguished party" mentioned in the paper are going to
arrive at Salt Lake City. I will write from there unless I am snatched
up by some craving widower, if there exists such a thing as a
widower--or by some husband with too few wives.
* * * * *
A wild desire possessed us to sit on the cow-catcher in order to get a
better view of the cañon. The engineer refused at first, but gave in at
last. He said it was most dangerous.
"You might," he added, "scoop up a Chinaman, or some animal straying on
the rails."
"How exciting!" we cried. "Who but a chosen few have the luck to scoop
up a live Chinaman?"
Johan had the worst place, and therefore the least chance of getting
the Chinaman. He sat up on a little iron seat attached to the boiler,
holding on to the piston for dear life, and every time the whistle went
off--and it went off very often--he nearly did the same. The fireman
was obliged every other minute to whistle to frighten the cows away
from the track. We others were more fortunate, having only to balance
ourselves and clutch our neighbor. The least jar would have capsized us
all. The Chinamen working on the railroad gazed at us in wonder; but we
did not scoop any of them in, nor did we get any cows. The long tunnels
were nasty and damp, and we were glad to breathe the fresh air again
after having passed through them. After a ride of half an hour we got
off our cow-catcher at the next station, feeling rather proud of the
_bravoure_ we had shown, but, all the same, thankful to be safe and
sound.
Salt Lake City is such a pretty place, so beautifully situated. The
great mountains capped with snow surround it and send the clearest
mountain streams down through the streets. No town could be better
drained than this one.
The lake is eighty miles away, and salted to exaggeration. Out of four
quarts of water one can obtain one quart of salt. We thought of taking
a bath in it and being sent home pickled and cured--of traveling.
We met on the train a Colonel Hooker, citizen of Utah. He introduced
himself to us and gave us free passes on the railroad where the Mormon
line branches off; so he must be some one of importance.
He telegraphed to announce our arrival at the hotel, and we flattered
ourselves that all Mormondom would be agog. We did not, however, notice
any great animation as we drove up to the hotel, and felt rather hurt
that we did not create more of a sensation.
We had introductory letters to Brigham Young. The next day being
Sunday, we went to the Tabernacle to attend their religious service.
Happily, Brigham Young had returned the night before from St. Joseph,
where he had sojourned with the "faithful." The Tabernacle is an
enormous building which, we were told, can hold fourteen thousand
people. It was filled to overflowing. The seating for the members was
arranged in a semicircle of tiers, the minor elders sitting in the
lowest seats. As the tiers mounted there were fewer seats and therefore
fewer elders, and so on, until the highest point was reached, where the
high priest--Brigham Young--sat alone in his glory. On the opposite
side was the magnificent organ built in Boston. When they began
building the Tabernacle, gigantic as they intended it to be, they did
not know that the organ which had been ordered from Boston (probably
wrong measurements had been sent) would be bigger than the Tabernacle.
When it arrived they found that, instead of the organ having been made
for the Tabernacle, the Tabernacle would have to be made for the organ.
To celebrate the Prophet's return they had the communion service.
People all stayed in their pews, and the bread, cut in good healthy
pieces, was handed about in bread-baskets; after which pitchers with
ice-water were passed, and the water was poured in goblets, which were
placed before the people. Brigham Young gave his flock a tremendous
rating with lowering eyebrows and a thunder-cloud in each eye, and the
flock trembled as one man. He said that during his absence they had not
behaved themselves as they ought to have done. They had not only been
found swearing and drunk, but they had mingled breath with the
Gentiles. We feared he referred to Colonel Hooker, whose breath had
mingled--the finger of wrath seemed to point that way. We felt very
sorry for our companion and sat huddled together, a humiliated group of
Gentiles, trembling to meet the glance of the wrathful Prophet.
After the service we were all received at Brigham Young's house, where
he seemed to be expecting us. He looked like any old Vermont farmer,
with his white fringe of beard under his fat, puffy cheeks, and his
thick, jet-black eyebrows over his keen eyes. He talked to us about his
mission in this world and told us about the hardships his people had
borne when they came to St. Joseph, which was the first place they
"struck" after their tramp over the desert, where most of the men died.
It was there he received a mysterious message from on high telling him
that bigamy would be pardonable under the circumstances. He told Johan
that the Danes were some of his best subjects. Johan made his most
diplomatic bow, as if he thought that this compliment to his nation
ought to be acknowledged. We heard after that Brigham Young had said
this because the Danes were known to take the most wives and ask no
questions.
It seems that B.Y. is almost a widower now, poor man. He has only
twenty-seven wives. Amelia reigns supreme just now; the others sit
forlorn in rocking-chairs in their empty parlors, biting their nails
and chewing the bitter gum of envy.
Johan thought we ought perhaps to demand an official "audience" of
Amelia, but the others repulsed this inspiration. It was amusing to
walk by Brigham Young's big house, a long rambling building with
innumerable doors. Each wife has an establishment of her own,
consisting of parlor, bedroom, and a front door, the key of which she
keeps in her pocket.
We walked about after luncheon, and Colonel Hooker drove us through the
streets and up the hill to show us the view, which was magnificent
beyond words.
We left Salt Lake City next day with regret.
It was telegraphed to Reno that we were to arrive there, to be treated,
escorted, and transported to Virginia City free of charge. They began
the treating by giving us an excellent breakfast at the hotel. They
asked us ladies if we wanted to go down the shaft with the gentlemen to
see the famous silver-mine. We cried "Yes" with enthusiasm.
A dressing-room was put at our disposal, and the clothes we were to
wear were neatly placed in piles. There were miners' jackets, miner's
leather trousers, and felt hats. We chose the suits best fitting our
different anatomies, and dressed. My choice fell on a boy's rather
clean suit. We felt very rakish in the dressing-room, but very sheepish
when we joined the gentlemen outside. In going down the shaft we had to
stand on the platform of the cage, which had neither railing nor
support of any kind. We went down thirteen hundred feet and stepped out
into the alleys of the shining ore. After walking for what seemed
miles, they showed us a hole and a shaft. We looked down a hundred feet
deeper, where the men who were working were almost naked. The
thermometer was fabulously high. There was a tank of cold water where
the men who worked could plunge every two minutes out of the five. The
air beginning to be rather oppressive, we requested to be taken up to
our mother Earth. How glad we were to breathe the fresh air. A bath was
awaiting us, and when we became ladies again we were taken all over the
works, and saw the process of making silver bricks out of the walls we
had been walking between, the beating of the metal, the sifting and
weighing, and finally the silver bricks. They have 2,000 men working
day and night. They are 1,400 feet below the surface now, and hope to
go lower. The "pocket" is 175 feet long, but the poor stockholders'
pockets are empty, for all that. (I am a stockholder and ought to
know.)
Each lady was presented with a bag of silver ore-rocks they seemed to
me. My bag had "500 dollars" written on it, in fun, I am sure. I left
it at the hotel, as it was too heavy to carry.
We left Virginia City that evening for Carson City and slept there,
glad to shake off the silver dust from our weary feet. The next day at
7 A.M. two carriages, one with four horses and the other with two, were
before the door, and we drove up the mountain, took the little
narrow-gage railroad which is there to carry the logs down to the lake.
Sitting on the front logs, we rode down the mountain. The big beams of
timber are brought to the mines in order to prop up the places where
the ore has been taken out. These logs do a lot of traveling. They are
cut on the other side of Lake Tahoe, dragged over the lake by a tug,
sawed the right length by a sawing-mill, then carried up the mountain
by this railroad and floated down by means of a wood trough, three feet
wide, for twenty-two miles to another railroad, thence to Virginia
City.
A steam-launch was waiting for us, and we cruised about this lovely
lake, which is of the bluest water and the greenest shadows you ever
saw. One sees a hundred feet down; the water is as clear as crystal. J.
talked fishing with the pilot, who promised to take him out fishing
with him. He caught a beautiful rainbow-trout (as they are called here)
from the launch. When he gets home he will tell you how big the biggest
fish was he lost.
We arrived at San Francisco at two o'clock. One of the men brought me
some splendid cherries, big as plums, and Johan's consul met us on the
ferryboat. This last was in a great hurry to get back to his home, as
he did not know whether it was a boy or a girl.
We were driven to the Palace Hotel, which is very fine. Each of us had
a complete apartment, _salon_, bed, and bathroom. Having been five days
and nights in the train, you may imagine we were tired. I was not only
tired, but dizzy and glad to go to bed.
Senator Sharon, who owns this hotel, sent us word begging us not to
make any engagement for Saturday and Sunday next, as he intends
inviting us to his country place. No bill is to be presented to us
here. We are not expected to pay for anything. We are his guests, and,
strange to say, not one of us knows him, excepting, of course, Mr.
Kasson.
The drive out to the cliffs is enchanting. I had never seen a live
sea-lion before, and here were thousands of them, barking, diving in
the water and wriggling out of it, and basking in the sun on the rocks.
General McDowell took us out for an early tour the next day in his
steam-launch. At five o'clock there was a dense fog covering
everything, but suddenly it lifted as we approached. We made the circle
of the Angel Island, then landed in a paradise of flowers. I don't
think I ever saw such flowers as these. The heliotropes looked as big
as cauliflowers, and I saw an ambitious and enormous tomato resembling
a pumpkin, on the top of a veranda. The fuchsias were as large as
dinner-bells, and when the sun rose over the bay no words can describe
how beautiful it was--like one of Turner's pictures, only more
exaggerated.
I think if I am going to be an angel, as I certainly am, instead of
going to Paris when I die, I should prefer to go to this angelic
island.
We ladies were invited by a well-known Chinese tea merchant to a
Chinese feast. The table looked rather bare, having only a teacup and a
plate before each person. The cups are double, the smaller one being
placed on the other to keep in the tea-leaves. After drinking the pale
water in which the leaves have soaked, we were served the viands. Each
dish is brought in separately and put on the table. Every one of them
is a _ragoût_ of some kind. The Chinaman dives in with his chopsticks,
and aims for the best piece he sees. Everything is eaten from the same
plate--indeed, why should the plate be changed, since everything tastes
and looks alike? I waited in vain for birds'-nest pudding, but I could
probably not have distinguished it from the other _ragoûts_ if it had
been there.
The gentlemen went off on a purely masculine tour, with a policeman in
tow. They wanted to see opium-dens and slums. They never told us a word
of what they did see--the mean things! Philip V.R., accompanied by an
American policeman, took us to a Chinese theater in the evening. I was
so nervous I hardly dared to look about me.
The dusky mass of uncanny Chinamen with their shaved heads and their
black pigtails sitting underneath us in the parquet was not pleasing,
and the stage was merely a platform where some privileged of the
audience sat unconcernedly. The scenery was--screens. How easy to
shift. We had the policeman of course; but, though he kept a vigilant
eye on us to prevent anything from happening in the way of an assault,
as frequently happens here, the idea of fire frightened us to such a
degree that our one wish was to get away. The upper gallery in which
our box was situated was so low that you could touch the ceiling with
your hand. The gas-jets had no globes, and the flickering flames
suggested everything that was horrible. If there had been a fire no one
could possibly have been saved. We felt no interest in the play. It had
begun a month ago; the hero had not yet advanced further than his
childhood. Perhaps next year when he grows up the play will be more
interesting.
Nougats and other sweets, which looked as if they had circulated since
the hero of the play was born, were passed about to the spectators. We
were glad to reach the hotel in safety and bid our nice American
policeman good night.
SAN FRANCISCO, _May, 1877_.
My dear Aunt,--The letters of introduction we brought to San Francisco
have already procured us many invitations.
We were at a dinner last night, which Governor Stanford gave us. He has
only twenty-five millions--hardly worth mentioning. Each of us ladies
had a millionaire to take us in to dinner. Mine was most amiable. He
passed all the other millionaires _en revue_; I wish I could remember
all he said about them, but I only have a sort of vague recollection
that every millionaire had come to San Francisco with only fifty cents
in his pocket, and that all the millionaires' wives had gone, in former
days, about in the streets of San Francisco selling milk or thread and
needles. I was not spared the history of any of them. Mr. S. himself
told me that he had made his fortune first in hosiery, and then he
invested his money in stocks.
There were thirty people present, divided thus: distinguished party,
ten; millionaires, twenty.
Every conceivable bird, alive or mechanical, was heard during this
repast; besides, there were musical boxes at each end of the room,
which made a tremendous confusion. I know to a cent how much this house
cost--one million two hundred thousand dollars, my neighbor told me. It
is a great, white, wooden, square house with a veranda around it,
perched up on a sandy hill without any garden and without a view of any
kind, and certainly without the least beauty.
The picture-gallery, which really has some fine pictures, cost four
hundred thousand dollars.
They had had Italian workmen brought especially from Italy to put down
the mosaic pavement in the hall, which was huge. We wandered through
all the rooms, each one in a different style and epoch, and all in bad
taste. I looked about in the so-called ballroom for a piano, and was
surprised at not seeing one there; but I noticed several in the other
rooms, decorated in the style of the room. They were in every color of
wood and charged with brass ornaments. Evidently they were there _as
ornaments, not to be used_. Some one must have said to Mr. S., "You
must have a piano." And he must have answered: "Certainly. Of course we
must. Let us have one in each room, by all means."
The servants all had mustaches and hair curled with tongs. I saw the
eyebrows of my party go up at an angle when the servants offered them
Johannesburg in gold cups, and still higher up when they saw the
mustached waiters pouring white wine in glasses which were previously
filled with red wine and alternated indiscriminately.
We were taken up-stairs to see Mrs. S.'s bedroom. It was worthy of an
empress, having point-lace coverlids, satin down quilts trimmed with
real Valenciennes.
What struck me the most in all this splendor was that so much money
should have been expended in furnishing a perishable wooden palace
which any tuppenny earthquake or fire could demolish in a moment.
Another thing I noticed was that, though everything else was so
handsome and costly, the glass and porcelain were of the most ordinary
kind.
We enjoyed ourselves immensely and compared notes when we reached the
hotel. Barring our individual millionaire, we hardly spoke to the
others. We were simply insignificant meteors passing hastily in their
midst.
Well, we went to the Senator's country place. A carriage with four
horses was waiting for us at the station, and we drove up in fine style
to the millionaire's mansion, where some Irish servants with baggy
trousers, tumbled cravats, and no gloves opened wide the doors,
ushering us into a large hall, where a gentleman whom we guessed was
our host came forward to greet us.
We were glad that we were going at last to make his acquaintance. He is
a millionaire and a Senator. That is all I can say about him at
present, except that he is extremely hospitable. He did not know one of
us from the other, except Kasson. He knew we were a "distinguished
party" because the papers said so. When we were being dealt out to our
rooms there was great confusion. Senator Sharon had an ancient _dame de
compagnie_--the head priestess--who made it a particular point to
dispose of Miss Clymer before any of the rest of us. She said, "Which
of these gents is your husband?" At which Miss C. blushed and found no
other answer than, "_None_." J. and I finally secured the same room,
because when Mr. S. in a moment of despair said, with an
all-comprehensive wave of his hand, "Gentlemen, please take your
wives," J. and I paired off. The Senator did not notice this little
detail, for when dinner was announced he said to J., "Will you please
take that young lady in to dinner?" pointing to me. Johan explained in
which relation he stood to the young lady. The Senator was not in the
least surprised, and merely answered: "Is that so? Well, then, take
some one else."
A semi-millionaire took me in. He told me all his early life of poverty
and threw in various reminiscences. I never knew the like of
millionaires for telling you of their former miseries. They always do!
When the ancient dame saw Mr. Kasson and me talking after dinner, she
said to us with a kittenish smile, "Husbands and wives mustn't talk
together." Hopeless! We did not even try to explain. The evening was
forlorn. There were many dreary drawing-rooms, horribly furnished, but
brilliantly lighted. A brawling musical box was supposed to enliven us.
We talked in that desultory way that one does with people whom you meet
for the first time and never want to meet again. Some of the
millionaires hovered among us, but failed to impress us either with
their past or present fortunes. Oh, joy! Bedtime came at last.
_May 17th._
I have just had time to scribble these few words before the post comes
for my letter.
We have been driving about, admiring landscapes, one another, every one
else, millionaires! Everything that money can do to spoil Nature has
been done here, but Nature will have her own way in the end; and in
spite of the millionaires' millions and the incongruity of everything,
we cannot but admire this beautiful and wonderful country.
Before our departure the Senator actually knew us one from the other.
He said to me, struggling with my names, "Well, Mrs. _Lindermann
Hegercrone_, I am very sorry you are going."
* * * * *
We started on visit No. 2--this time to Mr. Lathrop's beautiful place
in Menlo Park. The grounds are perfectly laid out. Flowers of all kinds
arranged in parterres, clusters of trees such as I had never seen
before, roses as big as sunflowers, and the beautiful sparkling lake in
front of the window and the blue mountains in the distance, made the
place a perfect paradise. The stables were extra fine, the floor and
ceiling being inlaid in two kinds of wood found only in California. The
room where the bridles were kept had such beautiful polished panels
that they shone like mirrors. There must have been harnesses for twelve
horses hanging on the walls. Mr. L. gave me a box made of the thirty
different kinds of wood found in California.
The following day we drove with four horses to Mr. Rathbone's, who also
has a gorgeous place. His picture-gallery is worthy of a Rothschild.
* * * * *
We left San Francisco for Los Angeles; the directors of the road put
everything at our disposition as usual. We had a _salon_, bed, and
dressing-rooms in one car, and Miss Cadwalader and Miss Clymer had
similar ones in another. There were kitchen, dining and reading rooms
for the whole party, which had now grown to be sixteen in number,
Senator Conover and his wife and some officers going with General
Taylor to Fort Yuma having joined us.
We went to Santa Monica, which is the fashionable watering-place of
these parts. Here we drove on the beach, which is thirty miles long. A
gentleman of Los Angeles was attached to our party and showed us the
sights. We saw all kinds of ranches--orange, grape, and bee ranches.
Then we drove to a Mexican settlement, where they gave us a gorgeous
dinner, really worthy of more time than we could give it, for we had to
leave at five o'clock for Los Angeles, where we dined again.
The next day we started off on another tour. We drove through
twenty-five miles of banana, pineapple, pomegranate groves and
vineyards. We tasted all the wines and fruit-syrups, and drank native
port and champagne. We had a special train and arrived at Merced the
next morning, to start on our Yosemite Valley tour.
_May 20th._
Just our luck! The first rain for four months pours down to-day. We
drove, nevertheless, from 7 A.M. until 6 P.M. (only stopping for our
meals), over barren, sandy, and desolate country. We saw whole flocks
of sheep dead and dying by thousands from want of care and drought. We
(seven and the driver) were packed away in an open three-seated wagon
with four horses, and drove over the dreariest road one can imagine. We
passed continually places where the ground was all upturned, evidently
either worked-out or abandoned gold-diggings. It was very pathetic when
one thought of the work, time, and hopes wasted there. At twelve
o'clock we reached Hunter's (the name of the hotel), and then we drove
over more dismal plains still to a hotel called Clark's. It must
originally have been a lovely place, but now it is spoiled by the
gold-diggings. Here we stayed all night in a very rough kind of tavern.
During the night we heard the howls of wolves and jackals very near the
hotel, which was not pleasant. We started at five o'clock the next
morning in a big, open _char-à-bancs_, and went through the most
beautiful forest. The trees are all from one hundred and fifty to two
hundred feet high, and from six to seven feet in diameter; hardly any
smaller trees among them. And such wonderful ferns! And the ice-plants!
This has a brilliant red stalk and flowers coming from under the snow.
We were so high up that there was snow on the ground all about us. The
trees are perfectly beautiful. The mansanilla, the branches of which
are like red coral, and the leaves the lightest of greens, the
California laurel, and many others of which I do not know the names,
were too beautiful. The white pine has cones one and a half feet long.
We drove up for four hours through the forest, until we reached the
height of five thousand feet. Here was a magnificent view, as you may
imagine. Then we began going down. That was something dreadful! The
driver, with his six horses, drove at a diabolical rate, one foot on
the brake, the other planted against the dashboard to keep his balance,
holding a tremendously long whip in one hand and the six reins in the
other. I shut my eyes and said my prayers. I cannot find words to
describe my emotion when I saw the precipice on one side and the
mountain on the other, especially when we came to a sharp corner and
looked in front, when we actually seemed to be going into space.
We arrived exhausted at the Yosemite Valley, where the feeling of
repose at being on flat ground and driving through those green pastures
surrounded by the six-thousand-feet-high mountains was delicious. We
found the hotel large, comfortable, with a good many other visitors.
The _table d'hôte_ dinner was well attended. Outside the hotel we spied
an Indian lurking about. They told us that he was the last of the
Yosemite tribe; he boasted that he had never spoken to a white man. I
am sure no white man would ever care to speak to such an
uncouth-looking tramp as he was, dressed in ragged clothes and wearing
shabby boots, playing hide-and-seek in the most undignified manner, and
utterly unworthy of the traditional Cooper Indian.
J. had time to put in a little fishing. The last of the Yosemites
dodged behind the trees, watching him and probably envying him the lone
minnow which was brought back in triumph.
The next morning we mounted horses and donkeys and rode up to Cloud's
Rest to see the glorious view over the whole Yosemite range. Our horses
picked their way most carefully over the stones and water puddles. J.
had a donkey who pretended that he was weak in all his four legs. When
he went up the mountain his fore legs stumbled at every moment,
inviting J. to get off and lead him, and when he came down the mountain
his back legs gave way and he sat down, so that J. could not help
getting off. The result was that J. had to lead him both up and down
and could have dispensed with his services entirely.
The Bride's Veil falls six thousand feet in a straight fall, becoming
only a tiny spray and a fine mist before it reaches the rocks at the
bottom.
Bright and early the next morning we drove to see Mirror Lake, which
was really like a mirror. The air was deliciously fresh and fragrant
with spring flowers. We bought some photographs and turned them upside
down. The lake and mountains were so mirrored that you could not see
which was top or bottom.
The next day being Sunday, we thought we would stay quietly in Yosemite
Valley, enjoying the rest and beauty of our surroundings. The hotel was
good, and the place was enticing. Here it was that the funniest thing
happened we had yet encountered. A deputation of one knocked at our
door at an early hour this morning. We had just finished a plain Sunday
breakfast of hash, fried potatoes, corn cakes, griddle-cakes, and syrup
fresh from the white-pine trees. But I am digressing, and the man is
still knocking at our door. J. opened it and let him in. With many hums
and haws he said that he had been sent to ask J. if he would read the
prayers and preach a sermon in the drawing-room of the hotel, "its
being Sunday and you being a minister."
J. was a little aghast, not exactly understanding, while I was shaking
with laughter at the other end of the room, and would not have
interfered for worlds for fear of losing a word of the dialogue.
"I read the gospel!" cried J.
"Yes, sir. You're a minister, ain't yer?"
"Well, yes, I am, but not the kind you mean."
The little man said, condescendingly: "We are not particular as to
sect. Whether you're a _Baptist_ or _Methodist_, it makes no difference
as long as you will preach."
J. had difficulty in explaining in his best English that preaching was
not a specialty of his. He did not add that all he did in that line was
to administer occasionally a mild _savon_ which he kept only for family
use when we washed our linen at home.
The abashed ambassador left us, shaking his head, and evidently
wondering why a minister, whether from Denmark or Lapland, couldn't
preach, any more than a doctor who was a doctor couldn't practise.
You may be sure that this episode gave us plenty to laugh about to last
all that beautiful day in the valley of Yosemite.
We stopped there altogether three days, and were lost in admiration and
wonder at the beauty of everything. The greatest wonder the gentlemen
met was the item on the bill for blacking boots, which was fifteen
dollars. They paid without a murmur, because they wanted to tell their
friends about it when they got home.
We took our leave of beautiful Yosemite Valley, throwing a disdainful
look at the _boots_, and we saw the last of the Yosemites peeping at us
from behind the shrubbery. We mounted the stage-coach which was to take
us to Mariposa Grove. We drove up the mountain all right, but when the
summit was reached the coachman began to whip up his six horses and
started galloping them down and turning those corners in such a
reckless manner that our hair stood on end; and in answer to our gentle
words reminding him that there were human beings in the coach he said,
coolly:
"Oh, I guess it'll be all right, but this is my first experience." On a
sharp turn of the road we suddenly saw a great white pine about six
feet in diameter lying right across our path. It had evidently fallen
in the night. Fortunately, the driver saw it and managed to pull up his
six horses in time to avoid a catastrophe.
How in the world should we ever get over this obstacle? All our
projects would be disarranged if there came a single unexpected delay.
A _conseil de guerre_ was held, every one talking at once, and it was
decided that the driver should unhitch the horses, and that each lady
should hold two of them, while the men were to look about to find
timber enough to improvise an inclined plane on both sides of this
enormous tree-trunk, so that the coach could be hauled up on one side
and dragged down on the other. The gentlemen managed to get the
carriage over, then they led the horses over, and lastly we ladies were
piloted across.
After a delay of an hour we were able to drive to Mariposa Hotel, where
we found eight saddle-horses waiting for us. It was all most exciting,
and we enjoyed every moment of the ride through the most beautiful
forest in the world. The ordinary trees of this forest would be
gigantic in any other part of the globe (six to seven feet in
diameter), but when we "struck" the first big tree I almost fell off my
horse with wonder. This tree was four hundred feet high and about
thirty-three feet in diameter. I knew beforehand that they were
monstrously big and high, but I did not know that they had such a
beautiful color--a red cinnamon. The first branch was a hundred feet
from the ground and six feet in diameter. In the Mariposa Grove there
are three hundred of these giants. In one tree, which was partly
hollowed out by fire, we seven people sat on horseback. That gives you
an idea! We saw a carriage full of travelers drive through a hollow
fallen tree as if through a tunnel. One must see these to imagine what
they are like. The "Old Giant" was the most imposing and grandest of
them all--thirty-seven feet in diameter, and high! One got dizzy trying
to see the top, which is really not the top. The winds up there do not
allow themselves to be encroached upon, and the young shoots are nipped
off as soon as they appear.
We had to sleep at Mariposa Grove (Clark's Hotel) in the evening. We
talked of nothing else but the wonderful trees until some one asked me
if I was too tired to sing. I was willing enough. There was, in fact, a
piano in the parlor--an old, yellow-keyed out-of-tune Chickering which
had seen better days somewhere--and a spiral stool very rickety on its
legs. There were wax flowers under dusty globes. Though no one of our
party cared much for music, and the surroundings were anything but
inspiring, still I longed to sing.
I sang a lot of things, and my tired audience no doubt thought I had
done enough and ought to go to bed, which I did, after having received
their thanks and seeing the heads of the servant-girls and various
other heads and forms disappear from the veranda.
_May 25th._
We left Clark's early in the morning without having made a second trip
to the trees, as we wanted to, but the time was nearing when John
Cadwalader was to leave us for his trip around the world. We were
already too late as it was, and if anything should happen like another
Gulliver across our downward path he would lose the steamer which
starts from San Francisco in three days. I sat in the favorite seat
next to the driver and waved a long farewell to the beautiful forest
which I shall probably never see again.
Here another funny thing happened. Everything funny seems to happen at
the end of our trip. The driver (a new one, not the one of yesterday)
after a long silence, and having changed a piece of straw he was
chewing from one side of his mouth to the other many times, made up his
mind to speak. I did not speak first, though I longed to, as I am told
it is not wise to speak to the man at the wheel, especially when the
wheel happens to be a California coach and six horses.
"A beautiful day," the driver ventured.
"Yes," I said, "it is one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen."