Part 8

I am inclined to think he is right. It was my accidental privilege to be in the city, during my former visit, while the semi-annual conference of the Latter-Day Saints of Utah Valley was being held.

The huge turtle-shell Tabernacle, easily seating twelve thousand people, was filled daily. I saw the rank and file of Mormons, the sturdy agriculturists and their wives, the latter like what one remembers of Primitive Methodists, apparently utterly oblivious of all personal adornment; they were, however, crowned with a maternity of which they seemed proud, as they held their children in their arms.

At one end of the great ellipse of that Tabernacle rose up, tier on tier of church officers, grade by grade, the Seventies, the Bishops, the Angels, the Apostles, up to the tripartite headship of three Presidents, the first of which was Elder Woodruff, venerable, simple, and wise in appearance. Back of all was the great organ, and a well-trained choir of three hundred singers.

I heard a number of speeches or sermons, all offhand, and some of them rambling, but the aside excursions were usually on practical matters, or to emphasize the fact that the Latter-Day Saints were the salt of the earth, the power to lead this nation upward from its bloodshed and wrong-doing; and hints were also given, here and there, that God would yet avenge the blood of the prophet slain at Nauvoo.

The most striking speech was that made by Mr. Cannon. He looked like a well-set-up New York business man, faultlessly dressed in an Albert frock coat, with rubicund countenance and flowing mutton-chop whiskers. It was absolutely refreshing to hear him, in his clear-cut sentences, declare that he was then and there speaking under the direct inspiration of the Holy Ghost. The President, Elder Woodruff, at the conclusion of the meeting, gave his sanction to all that was said, thus sealing it as inspired, by his declaration.

A superb anthem by Gounod then floated out over that vast audience, as all remained seated, taking in the power of the music at their ease. At its close Elder Woodruff rose, and all rose with him. With a trembling voice he blessed all in the triune name of God, and the whole assembly scattered in a few moments through the surrounding doors of the Tabernacle.

The Eisteddfod of our Welsh citizens was in full blast in Salt Lake at the same time, and at night I attended the concluding concert. It was an enthusiastic occasion. There were strangers from points quite distant, and the place was packed. The acoustic qualities of the Tabernacle gave wonderful power to both organ and voices, and the effect of the whole was very fine.

While I was scanning the audience and choir with my opera-glass, one of the ushers asked me if he might look through it. Of course he could. But I noticed that he kept pretty steadily to one point in the choir. On remarking that fact to him, he laughed and said, "Yes, I was looking at my best girl; there she is, near the centre, dressed in heliotrope crepe." I looked, too, and saw a remarkably pretty young woman. He further told me that he was a Mormon, and so was his sweetheart; that they were going to marry, and that they were both opposed to polygamy. He was a bright young fellow, and in our conversation he told me that he had been admitted to some of the higher grades in the Temple, and that there were Mormons of the lower type, who never could get inside its walls.

This leads me to speak of the strange combination of utter, naked simplicity in the ordinary worship of the Mormons, and the extreme of ritual observances which have place in the secrecy of the Temple. In the Tabernacle, when I first saw it, there was not a symbol of any kind visible, no cross, no flower, no sign. In my recent visit, however, in honor, possibly, of the new Statehood of the former Territory, the Star of Utah, draped at each side by the Stars and Stripes, appeared over the organ, and some motto, which I forget, at the other end.

The Mormon Temple is a huge structure of cut granite, brought from the neighboring mountains on canals constructed for the purpose. It is surmounted by six pinnacles of considerable height, and as seen from a distance, has a good effect. In architecture it is, however, quite nondescript, but doubtless admirably adapted for its purposes. It was thrown open to invited guests among the Gentiles, or non-Mormons, the morning before its consecration, for a few hours' private view. I have been told that the various rooms and passages were quite gorgeous and impressive in their furnishing and decorations. Since then all such visitors have been shut out, the only entrance thereto has been kept closed, and will be, as the Mormons say, until the second coming of Christ.

The great building stands in its own grounds, surrounded by flowers and shrubs, kept in beautiful order. Outsiders can approach to within eight or ten feet of the front door, but no farther.

A small building at one side gives admission to the faithful, who enter therefrom, to the Temple itself, by means of a connecting underground passage.

Mormonism is a most interesting exhibition of Primitive Methodism, of socialism in certain of its aspects, of Judaism, Freemasonry, and ancient Gnostic ideas, all combined with a compact hierarchy, which includes various orders of priests, the whole thing in perfect working order, taking thought for all, in all things, both of soul, mind, body, and estate.

We were certainly charmingly treated by the Mormons we met, and one must have for them respect and admiration. It did me good also to see one of the ladies who were with us, gowned in exquisite taste, quite a contrast to the rank and file of the Tabernacle. Her costume was a symphony in green, carried out in all its details perfectly, even to the gloves, the sunshade, and its malachite handle. We cannot soon forget the hospitality, the grace, and the sweetness which made us at home in Salt Lake City, and asked us to come again.

I think I cannot do better to close this Salt Lake chapter than to quote _in extenso_ the very full notes from Mrs. Morgan's diary, which here I do:

"At ten A.M. the carriages came to take us out, and we drove first to the State House, where we found Governor Wells, to whom Dr. Humphreys had an introduction. The governor received us most kindly, and he and Mr. and Mrs. Hammond came driving with us, and pointed out the various objects of interest. We first drove through the business streets, visiting a large department store, and from there to the Mormon Tabernacle, which is a very peculiar building, something like an enormous turtle, the dome roof coming low down and resting on brick buttresses. Between these buttresses are large doors, so that, it is said, this huge building, able to hold twelve thousand people, can be emptied in four minutes.

"Inside, a large gallery runs all round, and we walked to the opposite end, where we distinctly heard a pin dropped at the place from which we started, such are the perfect acoustic properties of the house."

I may here add that a really gruesome effect was also produced by the mere rubbing together of the hands of the gentleman who dropped the pin. The distinct swish-swish of the contacting palms was terribly audible.

Mrs. Morgan proceeds to tell us further:

"The organist kindly played us a couple of selections, and, whether the organ was unusually good, or whether it was the effect of the building, I cannot say, but I never enjoyed music more. We afterwards all joined in singing 'My Country, 'tis of Thee.'

"The Temple is a handsome building in the same enclosure, built of granite, but 'Gentiles' are not admitted to the inside.

"We then were driven past the different residences of Brigham Young: the Lion House, where three of his widows still reside; the Bee Hive, and the house where his favorite wife, Amelia Folsom, a cousin of ex-President Cleveland's wife, resided. Brigham Young had seventeen wives, and fifty-seven children. We passed through the Eagle Gate, erected by Brigham Young, seeing also a fine site where he intended to build a college or seat of learning. We then went to a point where we had a beautiful view of the valley in which the city of Salt Lake lies, and a most remarkable and exquisite view it was. All around were the grand, snow-capped mountains, guarding and holding, as it were, in the hollow of their hands, the city, with its wide streets, and lines of straight, tall Lombardy poplars, and its thousands of little homes, small and cosy, usually not more than one story in height. Of course there were mansions and houses of more pretentious aspect, but it seemed to me essentially the workingmen's home.

"The statue of Brigham Young adorns the centre of the town, and while one cannot but abhor certain of his religious views, one cannot but acknowledge that he was a far-seeing man of great ability.

"It is stated that, great as has been the growth of the city, it has not reached the limit laid out for it by Brigham Young, when he and his handful of followers first settled in the then arid and desolate plain, with its brooding circle of white-tipped hills.

"We returned to our car for dinner, and afterwards the governor arrived, bringing with him Colonel and Mrs. Clayton. Our car, at the governor's request, was attached to the regular passenger train to Saltair, a point some five miles distant, on Great Salt Lake. We found there a vast pavilion and bathing establishment, capable of accommodating thousands. The water of the lake is so strongly impregnated with salt, that nothing except a sort of minute shrimp lives in it. It was too early in the season for us to take a dip. We were assured that it was impossible to sink in the water.

"On our way back we passed Colonel Clayton's salt beds, into which the water is pumped and left to evaporate. The salt which remains is piled into great heaps. Some of it, in its crude state, is shipped to the silver mines, where it is used in the reducing of silver from the ore. Some of the salt is taken to the refining houses, to be manufactured into the article of domestic use. We spent a pleasant hour in the great pavilion at Saltair, and then returned in the car to the city, where our kind friends took leave of us, Mrs. Clayton telling me, before going, that I greatly resembled a daughter of Brigham Young's by his first wife! As Mrs. Clayton herself was of the Mormon faith, as was also Governor Wells, I took it, as it was intended to be, as a compliment."

Night was settling down upon us as we turned eastward from Salt Lake City, with faces homeward bound.

The picturesque desert, with its purple hills and terraced mountains, was all concealed by the darkness. At the early morning hour we reached Glenwood Springs, but decided not to stay there, and continued on without delay to Colorado Springs, reaching there on the evening of a day, never to be forgotten, of which we will tell in the next chapter.

XIX

Glenwood Springs.--The Pool.--The Vapor Baths.--Through the Canons.-- Leadville.--Colorado Products.--Canons in New York.

When we reached Glenwood Springs, it was in the early morning. The place from the railroad station does not look inviting, and so it was decided to push on to Denver.

This was a loss, for Glenwood Springs has many advantages, worth seeing, and a hotel of real comfort and elegance. The hot springs there are quite extensive, and the medicinal baths are delightful. The bathing places are in the highest style of art, elegantly fitted up with all that modern appliances, following ancient models, can accomplish. There is also a huge, open-air swimming-pool, filled with water, from the hot springs, giving most luxurious enjoyment.

It was my good fortune, on a former visit, to enjoy both it, and the further pleasure of a natural vapor bath within the rock recesses of one of the mountains. It was a weird experience. It was late one evening, and I happened to be the only bather there. The negro attendant, a most obliging fellow, took me in charge. Under his directions, after disrobing, he gave me a shower bath of cold water, and then, with a wet towel on my head, he ushered me into a rocky cavern. Some boards extended over fissures in the ground, from whence one could hear the gurgling of the boiling springs far beneath. The rocks overhead leaned against one another, and their great crevices were dark with shadows. There were a few plain wooden benches, blackened with the sulphur fumes; but, as if to assure one that the savage-looking place was really tame, after all, an electric light, in full glare, hung down from above, making the strange surroundings visible in all their mystery of heat beneath, and blackness below and beyond. I watched the experiment of the vapor upon myself, and soon was in a profuse perspiration. My faithful negro cautioned me not to be too long in my first attempt, so I was soon out again to get the protection of another wet towel on my head. After that, all was enjoyment. The whole experience was unique, and in due time I had the further luxury of a good rub down, and a lounge for some time on a couch, helped on also, by a cup of good, black coffee. I could scarcely tell which was best; to float in sulphur water in the open air, with others, under the bright light of day, in the big pool; or, to be utterly alone in the clefts of the everlasting mountains, surrounded by their mysterious warmth, and melted by their embrace. It seemed to me the last ought to have the preference.

As I have said, our party decided to press on from Glenwood. Hours were precious on the homeward run, and to have a whole day for the wonders of the Colorado mountains was something.

We first passed through the canyon of the Grand River, a fitting prelude to all that was to come. Then we travelled along the Eagle River Canon, and, last of all, experienced the wild wonders of the Royal Gorge. It was a day of continued excitement and exalted pleasure. It is hard to put in words the impressions of these immense rocky passes.

One may think of the giant forces which cleft asunder their rugged sides in times so far removed as to be scarcely conceivable.

Then, as one sees the detached rocks, and the great moraines at the mountain bases, and notes the clinging trees, and wild shrubs, and many flowers, one must think of the rolling seasons, the heat, the frost, the forces of the wind, and the storm, and the constant changes which come with rain and sunshine, with growth, and with decay.

And then, wherever one looks, there, at right hand, or at left of the railway track, is the rushing river, roaring on without stop or stay--day and night--forever. It was these streams which gave a hint of the pathway; first, to the red man, and then to the frontier trapper, and gold-hunter, and last of all, to the engineers who built the iron track over which we were speeding, swiftly, and in peace.

The picturesque effect of all is as varied as the thoughts which must come in such a place. The rapid motion of the train, the ever-changing point of view, as the track winds its sinuous way by the tortuous river-bed--all gives a sort of motion to the vast, overhanging cliffs, which seem to dance past one, like giants on a frolic.

I remember once making the journey through these passes, going west from Denver. The view from the car windows was not enough for me. I planted myself on one of the car platforms, linked my arm round the railing, and with my feet on the steps, sat on the floor, swinging out, as far as I safely could, to take it all in. Thus, oblivious of the dust, I sat for an hour, and at last, satiated by the views on views, returned contented to my seat. Just then a brakeman said to me, "We are now entering the Royal Gorge." I had almost surfeited myself with the mere prelude to the repast. The best was brought on, when my appetite was, so to speak, appeased. But, what did appear, was too good to neglect, so I was soon at it again as before, and did not leave my perch until we had passed through all the glories which the Royal Gorge contained.

The climax was reached in a spot too narrow for a track by the side of the raging torrent. Our railroad was suspended from the sides of the towering mountains by a huge iron construction, over which we passed, until wider space beyond, gave us again a hold on _terra firma_.

Through all this region there is also the evidence of energy and force of another kind. One sees the deserted huts of the gold-hunters, who prospected, it may be in vain, or made their "pile and cleared out."

There is a terrible fascination in this eager hunt for wealth, and those who hunt all their lives, often get least, and die in misery.

I was once in Victor, the next town to Cripple Creek, and while there, heard, in the most casual way, that Tom Brennan, I think that was his name, had been found in the mountains, dead, by his own hand. His luck was gone, starvation stared him in the face, and, old, and hopeless, in his lone misery, he sought death, alone.

When one sees, away up on some apparently inaccessible height, an indication of fresh earth, and a black aperture at the top of it, and realizes that in that spot, some one, or it may be more, are digging and delving for a wealth that may never come, the thought is inevitable of possible ruined hopes, or of sudden wealth, as Fortune may frown or smile. But here, as well as everywhere, and in all relations of life, the poet's words come true,

"The many fail, the one succeeds."

It is well for us, however, that failures, which may be possible, never daunt us from effort, and the search, for that which the soul longs for. We picture to ourselves success ever. Failure, like death, too often comes, unannounced.

It is the spirit of daring and adventure which still peoples the lonely mines on the mountain-sides; which fills the mining towns on their highest crests, and which keeps the miners busy, whether on their highest heights, or in the closeness of their deepest depths.

While on my way, a gentleman met me on the train, and pressed me to stop over at Leadville, promising that he would take me down the deepest gold mine in the place. I could not stay, even for that approach to the presence of all-powerful gold.

I am sure that the underground view of Leadville would be better than that which the sun looks upon. It is not an inviting-looking place. It lies on the great top surges of the mountains, having all the bleakness of a plain, and the rarefied atmosphere of the mountain summit, which it really is.

It is always a weird thing to look at the scenes of early mining days in Leadville, when the fame of the fabulous wealth therein, entered into men's brains, with an intoxication, like that of some Oriental drug. California Gulch looks like the dried bed of a mountain torrent. What must it have been when every inch of it was staked out in claims, and men, by men, close together, but widely separate in their interests, shovelled up the dirt, and peered with eager gaze therein for the yellow gold.

It is well to realize that even in Colorado, which is considered more a mining than an agricultural State, the farm products, at the present time, far outweigh in value the entire annual output of the mines. The prosaic toil, as some may deem it, of the spade, and the plough; and the pastoral occupation of stock-raising and dairy farming, are better wealth-makers than the pick of the miner, or the labors of the mining engineer.

The great day of our run through the giant attractions of the mountains comes to a close at Pueblo, a busy railroad centre, where our track bends to the north, and brings us at nightfall to Colorado Springs.

When we remembered all the glories of the day, the great mountain clefts through which we passed, the roaring torrents which accompanied us, the fantastic coloring of the rocks, and the evidences of labor and energy which we had seen on every hand; and remembered also the untold wealth which lay concealed, whether gold and silver, or rock oil, or the produce of ranch and cattle range, our thoughts gathered up a splendid impression of opulence, actual, and future.

Yet, wild and vast as it all was, we could not help thinking also, that the nearest approach we had anywhere seen, to the glories through which we had passed, had been already presented to us by the streets of New York. Yes, it is like seeing a Grand Canon, to look from Murray Hill on some October afternoon, down Fifth Avenue. There it all is,--the towering edifices at each side are the mountains, the crowd rushes on like the river,--all is color, life, and motion; and the blue haze of the autumn day gives vagueness and mystery to the descending perspective, as it comes to a point in Washington Square.

One sees the same effect also on lower Broadway, where the huge buildings, and the wealth and energy which they express, suggest ever to my mind the splendors of the great canyons of the West.

XX

Colorado Springs.--Ascent of Pike's Peak.--The View from the Summit.-- The Descent.--The Springs at Manitou.--Treasury of Indian Myth and Legend.--The Collection of Minerals.--Glen Eyrie.--The Garden of the Gods.--Victor Hugo on Sandstone.

We found much to interest us in Colorado Springs. It is a town of great fame as a health resort, and lies on a splendid plateau, with the background of the Rocky Mountains, and Pike's Peak, in all its snowy splendor, in the middle distance.

Near by is Colorado City, and joining on to that is Manitou, where lie the wonderful mineral springs, from which the city of "Colorado Springs" gets its name.

The wise men who founded the city, knew well that there was no room for expansion in the Alpine clefts where the springs lie; and yet they knew, too, their value as an attraction. Hence, the shrewd wisdom to bravely adopt a _lucus a non lucendo_, to call their town "Colorado Springs." They had them not, it is true, but they were near at hand.

It is well that they thus decided for both site and name; for the place chosen, gives ample scope for wide streets, and all the room for expansion, which the coming years demand. As it is, the growth of the place has been phenomenal. It is hard to realize that the public buildings, the churches, the schools, and the splendid homes are all the result of a comparatively brief period.

After our vast journey, we were not in much of a mood for more aggressive sightseeing; but some of our party, bravely attempted the ascent of Pike's Peak, on the cog railway, just opened for the season.

When the party was near the summit, a furious snow-storm came down upon them. The track had been cleared of snow some days before, and huge piles of it lay on each side of the course, but this sudden storm gave fresh obstruction. Men were detailed to clear away the encumbrance, so as to get the train clear up to the adjacent summit; but as they were thus engaged in front, the snow-storm was rapidly filling in the track behind. It was fortunately observed that the dreadful possibility of being snowed up on that bleak height, was imminent; so all hands were called away from further effort to get farther on, and a speedy retreat was made to safety and a lower level, where snow was not. Our merry party had a good snow-balling time, while all this was going on, and did not know, until their return, the fearful possibilities from which they had escaped.

The view from Pike's Peak toward the east is magnificent. The memory of it will never leave me, as I saw it years ago. The vast plain of Kansas stretches out, more sublime even than the ocean. One can mark the winding water courses, by the trees which line their banks; and the dimness, which covers all the great distance, has a sublime effect.