UNIVERSITY COURIER.
7
region, I determined to avoid all high-sounding formalities and instead to introduce to you at the outset, the three staple articles of Mormon America.
Our acquaintance with them, however, will necessarily be short, because it takes but a few hours to travel through that portion of Mormondom bordering on the northern arm of the Great Salt Lake. Entering the basin of this inland sea from the east via the Union Pacific railroad we breakfast at Echo City, a little Mormon village; dine at Ogden, a city of enterprise and thrift, where we change cars for the Yellowstone country, and as night approaches we bid adieu to the land of salt and saints. So you see we can but glance at things as we pass hurriedly along among the natural wonders of Brigham land. It's a peaceful morning and we are whirling along at break-neck speed down Echo creek between high, perpendicular, red rock walls on the right and gently sloping green peaks on the left, that send back to us again and again the "toot" of whistle or the crack of revolver, as the engineer says "down brakes" or the adventurous youth of the east pulls the trigger of his pet "Bull Dog" or beloved "Smith & Wesson." Look ahead; a high, rough peak rises directly in front of us. Exclamations of surprise run through the crowd. "How do you suppose we dodge that mountain?" asks Greeny, as with mouth wide open he looks as if he did not intend to dodge anything but was determined to "take it all in." "We don't dodge that ere peak," says Wisdom, "We climb over it." "Oh, dear," says Greeny, "that will delay us so we will not make connection at Ogden." But the engineer is ignorant of the conversation, and on we go swifter and swifter towards the towering peak. Suddenly the engine disappears around the red wall at our right, and soon with a prolonged whistle, we break from the narrow confines of Echo canyon and sweep out into the broader valley of the Weber river. On we go, over river and brook, through field and meadow, by village, hamlet and farm, towards the lower end of the valley where the Wasaath peaks close in on both sides till the pines almost meet above us. As we thus hurry along we look in vain for unoccupied land. Woven willow fences divide the garden from the field, the field from the meadow, while the mountain sides are used extensively for grazing purposes.
Every little valley leading back into the mountains is thickly settled. Every piece of ground large enough to produce a few bushels of grain or vegetables is occupied. We notice all these things and anxiously look for the world-renowned Salt Lake peaches, but none are seen, the country is too new.
too thick to count. It was remarked by some that there was a child for every potato hill, but I am confident I saw fields where there was one for every potato.
But now we are in the canyon, and the villages, oat fields cabins, etc., are shut from our view. And what is that a little way ahead, a house? Yes, and so near the mountain that a huge rock might roll down and crush it. Yet here lives a follower of Joe Smith seemingly happy among his potato hills, dirty-faced children and sad-looking wives. Yes, happy he may be, but I believe the river, as it runs swiftly by, laughs at what he calls happiness; the worship of the god of the brothel-passion, instead of the pure home ruler, love.
Did you see those two peaks we just passed? They are the sentinels that watch over us while we speed rapidly on over the widened valley, towards Ogden. Now, gardens are changed for orchards, cabins for mansions, meadows for potato fields, while children are
And now we are at Ogden. Too hot to stir around much, so we will seek a shady place and try to keep cool while waiting for our train. We fail entirely. The sun is now quite low and crawling from our retreat we find the depot all alive and full of business. We seek our car and in a few minutes are again on our way. A few miles from town and we have a fine view of Great Salt Lake. To the west it lies perfectly calm, its glassy surface unbroken by even the faintest ripple. For a long time we ride along its shore, entranced with the view at our left. I never expect to look upon a scene more grand, nor a conception more beautiful than was presented by this apparently lifeless sea, as with blushes of pride, and smiles of joy, it welcomed the evening and fell asleep in the bosom of the mountains.
"Pe-ach-es, six for five cents." "A-p-ri-cots, twelve for a dime." "Here, mister, want some peaches, only a cent apiece." "Buy of me, mine are the best, and I'll give more for a nickle." "P-e-a-c-h-e-s, p-l-u-m-s, p-e-a-r-s, a-p-r-i-c-o-t-s, cheap, last chance to get fruit." What a babel of voices. Our train has stopped and the cars are literally under control of fruit venders ragged, pinched faced little boys and girls are upon us from all sides. Thick as a swarm of bees, as dirty and as sauce as any Five Point lad of to-day are these saint-like children. The bell rings, and all the fruit remaining in the basket is sold for the price of six peaches. Quicker sales, smaller profits. The train moves and the sad-faced children leave us.
Night has approached so rapidly that it is almost impossible to get even a glimpse of anything more, so we will rest our eyes while tasting the fruit, thinking of the children, and hoping for a breakfast of baked potatoes.
TOPICS.
Once more an expedition has been organized and started for the Territory, to try to gain possession of the Oklahoma lands. The movement is backed and encouraged by a few scheming men, who have an organized company and have lived fat for several years on the investments of the credulous public. It seems as if men were never satisfied; here in Kansas we have thousands of acres of the finest kind of farming land waiting for occupants, and yet a restless class are trying to enter the Territory, and take from the Indians their last piece of fertile country. The Indians have been forced to give up nearly the whole of this vast continent which they once possessed, and it is only right and just that they should have a small portion reserved for their home. It was for this purpose that our government set aside the Territory, and shall it be taken from them because a class of dissatisfied individuals and greedy speculators demand it? not yet! The Indian childrion are being educated, and trained up to civilized occupations, and a few more generations will place them on an equal footing with the whites. Then the Territory may be opened up and the Indians given the privileges of American citizens, and they will be able to take care of themselves. That they are capable of civilization has been proved. There are several tribes that are extensively engaged in farming and stock raising, and have towns, and an organized government patterned after our own. J. L. M.