We
had a
fine
supper,
of
the
freshest
meats
and
fowls
and
vegetables—a
great
variety
and
as
great
abundance.
We
walked
about
the
streets
some, afterward,
and
glanced
in
at
shops
and
stores;
and
there
was
fascination
in
surreptitiously
staring
at
every
creature
we
took
to
be
a Mormon.
This
was
fairy-land
to
us,
to
all
intents
and
purposes—a
land
of
enchantment,
and
goblins,
and
awful
mystery.
We
felt a
curiosity
to
ask
every
child
how
many
mothers
it
had,
and
if
it
could
tell
them
apart;
and
we
experienced a thrill
every
time a dwelling-house
door
opened
and
shut
as
we
passed,
disclosing
a
glimpse
of
human
heads
and
backs
and
shoulders—for
we
so
longed
to
have
a
good
satisfying
look
at
a
Mormon
family
in
all
its
comprehensive
ampleness, disposed
in
the
customary
concentric
rings
of
its
home
circle.
By
and
by
the
Acting
Governor
of
the
Territory
introduced
us
to
other
"Gentiles,"
and
we
spent a
sociable
hour
with
them. "Gentiles"
are
people
who
are
not
Mormons.
Our
fellow-passenger, Bemis,
took
care
of
himself,
during
this
part
of
the
evening,
and
did
not
make
an
overpowering
success
of
it, either,
for
he
came
into
our
room
in
the
hotel
about
eleven
o'clock,
full
of
cheerfulness,
and
talking loosely,
disjointedly
and
indiscriminately,
and
every
now
and
then
tugging
out
a
ragged
word
by
the
roots
that
had
more
hiccups
than
syllables
in
it. This,
together
with
his
hanging
his
coat
on
the
floor
on
one
side
of
a chair,
and
his
vest
on
the
floor
on
the
other
side,
and
piling
his
pants
on
the
floor
just
in
front
of
the
same
chair,
and
then
comtemplating
the
general
result
with
superstitious
awe,
and
finally
pronouncing
it
"too
many
for
him"
and
going
to
bed
with
his
boots
on, led
us
to
fear
that
something
he
had
eaten
had
not
agreed
with
him.
But
we
knew
afterward
that
it
was
something
he
had been drinking.
It
was
the
exclusively
Mormon
refresher, "valley tan."
Valley
tan
(or,
at
least,
one
form
of
valley
tan)
is
a
kind
of
whisky,
or
first
cousin
to
it;
is
of
Mormon
invention
and
manufactured
only
in
Utah.
Tradition
says
it
is
made
of
(imported)
fire
and
brimstone.
If
I
remember
rightly
no
public drinking
saloons
were
allowed
in
the
kingdom
by
Brigham Young,
and
no
private
drinking permitted
among
the
faithful,
except
they
confined
themselves
to
"valley tan."
Next
day
we
strolled
about
everywhere
through
the
broad, straight,
level
streets,
and
enjoyed
the
pleasant
strangeness
of
a
city
of
fifteen
thousand
inhabitants
with
no
loafers
perceptible
in
it;
and
no
visible
drunkards
or
noisy people; a
limpid
stream
rippling
and
dancing
through
every
street
in
place
of
a filthy gutter;
block
after
block
of
trim
dwellings, built
of
"frame"
and
sunburned brick—a
great
thriving
orchard
and
garden
behind
every
one
of
them, apparently—branches
from
the
street
stream
winding
and
sparkling
among
the
garden
beds
and
fruit
trees—and a
grand
general
air
of
neatness, repair,
thrift
and
comfort,
around
and
about
and
over
the
whole.
And
everywhere
were
workshops, factories,
and
all
manner
of
industries;
and
intent
faces
and
busy
hands
were
to
be
seen
wherever
one
looked;
and
in
one's
ears
was
the
ceaseless clink
of
hammers,
the
buzz
of
trade
and
the
contented
hum
of
drums
and
fly-wheels.
The
armorial
crest
of
my
own
State
consisted
of
two
dissolute
bears
holding
up
the
head
of
a
dead
and
gone
cask
between
them
and
making
the
pertinent
remark, "UNITED,
WE
STAND—(hic!)—DIVIDED,
WE
FALL."
It
was
always
too
figurative
for
the
author
of
this
book.
But
the
Mormon
crest
was
easy.
And
it
was
simple, unostentatious,
and
fitted
like
a glove.
It
was
a
representation
of
a
GOLDEN
BEEHIVE,
with
the
bees
all
at
work!
The
city
lies
in
the
edge
of
a
level
plain
as
broad
as
the
State
of
Connecticut,
and
crouches
close
down
to
the
ground
under
a curving
wall
of
mighty
mountains
whose
heads
are
hidden
in
the
clouds,
and
whose
shoulders
bear
relics
of
the
snows
of
winter
all
the
summer
long.
Seen
from
one
of
these
dizzy
heights,
twelve
or
fifteen
miles
off,
Great
Salt
Lake
City
is
toned
down
and
diminished
till
it
is
suggestive
of
a child's toy-village
reposing
under
the
majestic
protection
of
the
Chinese wall.
On
some
of
those
mountains,
to
the
southwest,
it
had been
raining
every
day
for
two
weeks,
but
not
a
drop
had fallen
in
the
city.
And
on
hot
days
in
late
spring
and
early
autumn
the
citizens
could
quit
fanning
and
growling
and
go
out
and
cool
off
by
looking
at
the
luxury
of
a
glorious
snow-storm going
on
in
the
mountains.
They
could
enjoy
it
at
a distance,
at
those
seasons,
every
day,
though
no
snow
would
fall
in
their
streets,
or
anywhere
near
them.
Salt
Lake
City
was
healthy—an extremely healthy city.
They
declared
there
was
only
one
physician
in
the
place
and
he
was
arrested
every
week
regularly
and
held
to
answer
under
the
vagrant
act
for
having
"no
visible
means
of
support."
They
always
give
you
a
good
substantial
article
of
truth
in
Salt
Lake,
and
good
measure
and
good
weight, too. [Very often,
if
you
wished
to
weigh
one
of
their
airiest
little
commonplace
statements
you
would
want
the
hay
scales.]
We
desired
to
visit
the
famous
inland
sea,
the
American "Dead Sea,"
the
great
Salt
Lake—seventeen miles, horseback,
from
the
city—for
we
had
dreamed
about
it,
and
thought
about
it,
and
talked
about
it,
and
yearned
to
see
it,
all
the
first
part
of
our
trip;
but
now
when
it
was
only
arm's
length
away
it
had suddenly lost nearly
every
bit
of
its
interest.
And
so
we
put
it
off,
in
a
sort
of
general
way,
till
next
day—and
that
was
the
last
we
ever
thought
of
it.
We
dined
with
some
hospitable
Gentiles;
and
visited
the
foundation
of
the
prodigious
temple;
and
talked
long
with
that
shrewd Connecticut Yankee,
Heber
C. Kimball (since deceased), a saint
of
high
degree
and
a
mighty
man
of
commerce.
We
saw
the
"Tithing-House,"
and
the
"Lion House,"
and
I
do
not
know
or
remember
how
many
more
church
and
government
buildings
of
various
kinds
and
curious
names.
We
flitted
hither
and
thither
and
enjoyed
every
hour,
and
picked
up
a
great
deal
of
useful
information
and
entertaining
nonsense,
and
went
to
bed
at
night
satisfied.
The
second
day,
we
made
the
acquaintance
of
Mr.
Street
(since deceased)
and
put
on
white
shirts
and
went
and
paid a
state
visit
to
the
king.
He
seemed
a quiet, kindly, easy-mannered, dignified, self-possessed
old
gentleman
of
fifty-five
or
sixty,
and
had a
gentle
craft
in
his
eye
that
probably
belonged
there.
He
was
very
simply dressed
and
was
just
taking
off
a straw
hat
as
we
entered.
He
talked
about
Utah,
and
the
Indians,
and
Nevada,
and
general
American matters
and
questions,
with
our
secretary
and
certain
government
officials
who
came
with
us.
But
he
never
paid
any
attention
to
me,
notwithstanding
I
made
several
attempts
to
"draw
him
out"
on
federal
politics
and
his
high
handed
attitude
toward
Congress. I
thought
some
of
the
things
I said
were
rather
fine.
But
he
merely
looked
around
at
me,
at
distant
intervals,
something
as
I
have
seen
a benignant
old
cat
look
around
to
see
which
kitten
was
meddling
with
her
tail.
By
and
by
I
subsided
into
an
indignant
silence,
and
so
sat
until
the
end,
hot
and
flushed,
and
execrating
him
in
my
heart
for
an
ignorant
savage.
But
he
was
calm.
His
conversation
with
those
gentlemen flowed
on
as
sweetly
and
peacefully
and
musically
as
any
summer
brook.
When
the
audience
was
ended
and
we
were
retiring
from
the
presence,
he
put
his
hand
on
my head,
beamed
down
on
me
in
an
admiring
way
and
said
to
my brother: "Ah—your child, I presume? Boy,
or
girl?"