Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-01-11
Correspondence Of THE EVENING STAR.


Correspondence Of TIE EVENING STAR.
IBAPAB. UTAH, December 10.
The start has been made in earnest and the
journey that is to lead across the great arid
waste of the west has been begun. The prairie
schooners with their plodding teams and the
baggage wagon with four queer little mules are
in the immediate foreground, while beyond
stretches the dusty sage-covered plain to the
foot of the grim old Oquirrh mountains. while
to the right lies the great dead sea OF America,
the Great Salt Lake. Behind, the city of Salt
Lake is fast becoming confused mass of trees
and buildings, with the temple standing guard,
like gigantic sentinel in gray. An excursion
train is hurrying past filled with pleasure seek
ers VINO are going to Garfield Beach to enjoy
the day and battle at the popular resort
Two or three more hours and we arrive at
uarneId Beach, where we must round the point
OF the mountain, and we stop for a few mo-
ments to watch the bathers, who prefering
the quiet OF the forenoon. are bobbing up Sc
renely In the heavy, brlny water of the lake
like corks in a bowl of water. There are three
small towns In the next valley, types of all
other small towns throughout the territory of
Utah. TOoele pronounced two-willow) is the
place where we spend the first night of our
Journey. 1t is thorough Mormon village with
the streets laid off with almost perfect regular
lty and shaded with beautiful trees of the cot
comfortable looking and an air of cleanliness
and order pervades the whole town. Seven
miles further on is the old mining town of
stockton, which was once famous station on
the overland stage line across the continent
Being mining town it is essentially town of
miners and bar rooms, with no Mormon bishop
TO preside over the destines of the people or
the welfare of the town. One more Email vii
iage and we have left behind u.s. for season
at least, all semblance of human habitation
The Way now lies uUh fho 6oa,,
OF the approach to Johnson's pass, where tho
steep slopes of the hills end in rugged sum-
mlts, while sheep and cattle and half-wild
horses Craze upon the scant vegetation and
tlnkle their bells melodiously in the cool morn
ing alr-for another night has passed and our
teams have been resting after the forty-fve-
mlle journey OF the previous day in order to
tackle the pass In the morning air. 1t is hard
TO imagine more striklngly picturesque road
than the one which winds up through and
down Johnson's pass, with a mountain stream
frlnged by verdant willows and cottonwoods,
with steep hills on either hand and glimpses of
towering mountains in the distance. Soon,
however, we have left all this behind and are
crossing sort of arid table land, through
almost impossible wastes of sand, beyond
which lies the desert. Our barrels have all
been filled with water, and already we are be-
ginning to suffer with the dust and heat and
the experience we have anticipated with such
eagerness is fast becoming reality. BY the
middle of the long summer afternoon we have
crowned the last summit and are pausing to
gaze In silence and awe at the grand prospect
which lies beyond.
ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT.
Before US, at the foot of gentle slope, is
Skull valley, which is part OF the almost bound
less. well-nigh trackIess plain, bordering the
desert proper. A few miles further on is the
gllstening salt crusted desert on which, as far
as the eye can reach, there is not one speck to
mar Its glittering whiteness Great masses of
arid mountains rise out of its surface and
around and beyond its borders, but those in the
distance seem to be floating over the strata of
hot air which trembles Just above the PLAIN 1t
Is too hot and dusty, however, even to rest in
peace, so the cry of forward soon comes
again, and the teams move YEARLY on. Moth
ing now but the dust. the same sage brush that
| Is before and behind: the same glittering band
OF white in the distance, which never gets any
nearer; an occasional echoless crack of a
whip ut an unoffending mule, with an oc-
| casional change of the phantom forms which
| are masquerading in fantastic costumes in the
distance.
Then, too, thirst is beginning to tell, and the
few pulls we may take at the canteen are SO far
between that we can't help agreeing with the
historic governor of one Of the Caroinas. We
roll pebbles in our mouths till they become
lost in the drought which therein is We at
last settle down in hopeless, resigned sort of
way and wait for the sun to move again OF
course 1t does move after a long while and then
suddenly drops behind the far-off mountains
while the teams halt beside thick patch of
sage and greaSewood and the preparations for
camp rapidly begin.
CAMP on THE PLAIN
All Is life and hustle now, the cook and his
helpers are driving in the fire irons and I'M
packing mess boxes, the men are unloading feed
and bundles of bedding, while few restless
spirits are wandering about collecting piles of
sage brush with which to make a rousing fire
as soon as the chill Of night begins to creep
over the erstwhile scOrched plain.
substantial meal is soon prepared and dis
posed OF. the animals are watered and fed and
as soon as the beds are rolled down every one
gathers around the fire to chat and smoke.
The scene is strange and weird with tba
faces OF the men lit with the fires ruddy glow
and the subdued whinnyings Of the mules
pleading for little more water, the only speck
OF life in all that death, with no answering
voices Of the night and no CLEAN of neighboring
fires to break In upon the outer darkness
One by one the men seek their blankets and at
last fall asleep, amid stiffness that is almost
audible, and find recompense for their labors
in the perfect rest which they enjoy Day.
light brings change, and the animals are
sounding their resistless reveille, 50 that the
LATEST are not behind when the call comes to
breakfast. Packing up and reloading is the
work OF few minutes only, SO that before the
sun has peeped over the eastern mountains the
party is again EN- route.
But with the rising Of the sun comes a
change, for out on the desert (Which few
moments before was a dead white piain) every
elevation or projection is beginning to assume
life. Lakes are appearing where the salt lately
was the only covering; fences and trees are
miraculously springing up: weird beings are
assuming shapes and dancing in the morning
air; boats are shooting here and there over the
placid lakes, and solid mountains are spreading
out or splitting open, while sometimes low
hills rise and disappear like smoke from an ex-
piosion. The whole is at once SO strange and
amusing that 1t is hard to remove our ewes even
for an instant, and for at least an hour the
laziness of the animals is allowed to go un.
punished, while We forget the hardships of
desert life in the glorious privilege of behold
ing such vision this. But gradually, as
the sun rises higher, the phenomena decreases
in strangeness and beauty, and only now and
then does an inviting lake appear through the
riffs in the dust clouds We set our teeth hard
and for the time cease to hope for anything to
break the cheerlessness of the un disturbed mo-
notony. The dust is settling over everything and
the heat and thirst are almost intOlerable A half
hour for lunch and rest is appreciated very
much; but, although 1t has ended long morn
ing, il ushers in a much longer afternoon,
which is made bearable by passing
AN OLD TEN.aILE STATION HOUSE
on the Overland route, into which latter we have
again entered. Nothing is left now but the old