On one occasion I went, in company with my youngest son and a friend,
some distance into the interior of the country. At one point we came
upon a deserted and decaying Indian village, and then upon an Indian
track across the desert. A little further on we struck a Mormon track,
along which a company of the Latter-day saints had groped their way
towards their promised Paradise in the Salt Lake Valley. As we followed
the track we came upon a mound, and then upon another, marking the spots
where worn-out travellers had ended their weary pilgrimages, and been
consigned, amid the desolate wilds, to their final resting places. Into
one of these unprotected graves the wolves had made their way, to feed
upon the fallen victim of the new faith. When night came on it found us
in these dreary and desolate wilds, and there we had to prepare to pass
the night under the open sky, with multitudes of wolves around us. We
had hardly spread our blankets when the sky was covered with black and
heavy clouds, and lightnings flashed, and thunders roared, and
everything betokened a night of storm and rain. We protected ourselves
against the threatening elements as well as we could, and prepared
ourselves for cold and drenching showers, and for a sleepless and
troubled night, when, happily for us, the wind suddenly changed, and
dissipated the clouds.
Pages:
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538