Part 9 (1/2)

There is a peculiar feature of Salt Lake society which is truly worthy of note, and that is the fact that even in social gatherings they open and close with prayer.

Thus, with the highest respect and grat.i.tude for its citizens, I left Salt Lake and returned to Ogden, where I hoped for a new supply of books.

Finding neither letters nor books, and board being four dollars per day, I began to feel symptoms of the ”blues.” Going to the landlord and stating the case, he bade me have no fear, for no more would be demanded of me than I was able to pay; and cheered by this unexpected kindness, I resolved to patiently wait the issue of events. The next day being election, it was strange to witness the procession of women voters wending their way to the polls; but here, as in Salt Lake, the utmost order and quiet prevailed, nor was bolt or bar necessary for protection at night, when we were permitted to rest in sweet security from harm.

On going to the express office we were approached by a gentleman, who, pointing to me, handed Hattie an envelope with the simple words, ”If you please;” few indeed, but fraught with mystery to us, our only solution being that the envelope contained election tickets, and we were supposed voters.

With a sense of relief we found the books at the express office, and we took that opportunity to open the mysterious package, in which we found five dollars. Describing the gentleman to the express agent, he said he was a clerk in an eating house near by, a bachelor, and very liberal.

Certainly this act spoke n.o.bly for the fraternity of bachelors, who are supposed to go about armed with a coat of mail, especially invulnerable in the region of the heart, while this unsolicited kindness unquestionably indicated a large degree of tenderness of nature.

We sent him a note of acknowledgment, which we felt to be but a feeble expression of our grat.i.tude, and, as ”all seemed to work together for our good,” we left Utah with a benediction in our hearts and a silent but no less earnest prayer on our lips, and turned toward the setting sun.

CHAPTER XXVII.

”The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed, It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown.”

Leaving Ogden we followed the line of the Central Pacific Railroad, making no stops until we reached Elko, Nevada. It was the county seat of Elko county, and, although at that time a place of comparatively small size and population, it had an air of business activity known only to localities alive with the excitement of railroad traffic. The mammoth depot and freight-house gave it an air of importance; the pine trade, then so active, and the busy stage-line to the neighboring, warm, mineral springs and mines of purest silver, imparted to it an additional business activity.

We were delightfully entertained by Mr. Treet, the gentlemanly proprietor of the Railroad House, and were presented by him with a letter of introduction to Mrs. Van Every, of Sacramento. Thus did so many kind hands smooth down the inequalities incident to a life of travel, and pleasantly pave the way to so many warm friends.h.i.+ps.

On arriving at Sacramento on August 5th, a day of intense, almost stifling heat, we went at once to Mrs. Van Every, who kept the most elegant boarding house in the city, whose s.p.a.cious apartments seemed filled with the breath of Paradise, which added a grateful welcome to our travel-tired bodies. Mrs. Van Every's mien of pure and native dignity, her voice of silvery sweetness, gave the charm of a welcome and ease to her greeting; and without delay we presented our letter, which was the ”open sesame” to her heart.

We were at once a.s.signed to a nice, clean and even luxurious apartment, and after some real rest and quiet we sauntered out, as usual seeking the most prominent editors, and found two, both of whom did us full justice in the way of editorial notices of our presence and mission.

One day, almost at the close of a two weeks' canva.s.sing tour, we entered the office of the Honorable N. Green Curtis, who, at the first glance, declined to give us his patronage, but after a short conversation, in which he learned that I was a native of Baltimore,

”A moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thought was traced, And then, it faded as it came,”

he instantly arose, and, as if impelled by some new and life-giving impulse, he took from my hand a book, and left in its stead a five dollar bill, saying in hurried words, I never refused to a.s.sist a Southerner.

Thus the memories of our native land are balmy with recollections of childhood, and cling to us through a lifetime of sorrow and change. The humblest Scottish shepherd boy can never forget that

”'Twas yonder on the Grampian hills His father fed his flock.”

Judge Curtis afterward revealed the fact that he was a native of South Carolina, and the mere mention of the sunny land of his boyhood gave to each latent sympathy new life and power. It was also probable that he was not at first aware of my affliction, for he added the remark that he could not refuse a favor to a blind person. When we were leaving his office he arose and inquired if I needed aid in any other way; stated that he was a widower and without other ties, hence had no claims upon his purse, and hoped I would feel as free to ask as he was to give.

I replied that I was doing too well in my legitimate business to require direct pecuniary aid, and unless he could a.s.sist me in securing railroad pa.s.ses I had no requests to make.

How kindly he did this was manifest from the fact that I afterward received from Ex-Governor Stanford, who was President of the Central Pacific Road, a yearly pa.s.s, and with this introduction the favor was readily extended by all the railroads on the coast.

A few evenings before I left Sacramento Mrs. Van Every, from her ever overflowing goodness, improvised an entertainment for my pleasure and benefit. It became necessary to initiate Hattie into the secret, but I remained in blissful ignorance until one evening I received a not unusual summons to go down to the drawing rooms, when I found myself the centre of a charmed circle of the elite of Sacramento, the easy flow of whose conversation was laden with love and sympathy for me, and then was revealed the fact that each invited guest had received a card, upon which Mrs. Van Every had traced the words ”for the benefit of the blind lady.”

”Music with its golden tongue was there,” and the halls resounded with melody, which, with love's sacred inspiration, is sweet as Apollo's lute.