Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 39, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 March 1884 — Page 8

Jj*'

If

1

a

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

MEN NEED A LESSON. "Mollle Meade, well. I declare!

"Uf

A.

Who'd have thought of seeing yon, After what occairea last night, Out hereon the avenne? Oh, yoa awful, awful girl!

There dont blush I saw It all." wgaw all what "Ahem—last night— At the Admiral's In the hall." "Oh, yoa horrid I where were yon

Wasn't he an awful goose? Moat men must be caught but he Ran his bead right in the noose. I was almost dead to dance

I'd have done it if I could But old Bliss said I must stop, And I promised ma I would So I looked up sweet and said

I bad rather talk with him. Hope he did nt see ray face: Luckily, the lights were dim. Then, oh, how be squeezed my band!

Ana he looked up in my face W Itb his great, big, lovely eyes. Really, lt'sa dreadful case. He was all in earnest, too

But I really thought I'd have to laugh, When he kissed a flower I gave, Looking, oh, like such a calf I I suppose ne has it now

In a wine glass on his shelves. lt'sa ml&tery to me Why men will deceive themselves. •Saw him kiss me!' Oh, you wretch!

Welt, he begged so hard for one. And I thought there'd no one knowBo I let him, Just for fun, I know it wafcnt really right

,«e

isj.fr

To trifle with his feelings, dear But men are such conceited things, viaaiI Inamn At a_ IT

They need a lesson ouce a year.

Printed in this paper by special arrangement with the author.

SEALED UNTO HIM*

A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF MORMONISM.

"rff

By JOAQUIN MILLER,

A CTHOB OF "80NGH 07 THK 8IEKHAS," "THE DAWITES," "MEMOHIE ASH KIHE," ETC.

,"

•a'-V CHAPTER I.

THE FOUNDATION OF THE ORDER OF DANITES. "Dan shall judge his people as one of the tribes of Israel. "Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path,that biteth the horse heels^o that his rider shall fall backward."—Gen. •fc 16, 17.

Planted down In the heart of the continent, and "by the wayr""in the path," of the weary pilgrims journeying to the remote West, you can well see how the Mormon elders put their fingers on this text, and told their ignorant following that they were the chosen people referred to here that they were the children of Dan that they should judge the people who came that way that they, the Mormons, as the children of Dan, were **the serpent by the way." "an adder in the path."

e$^f

In the large reading of, the text, and a liberal view and look of it all, it seems plausible almost, even to us. How certain then did it seem to these ignorant and merciless followers of the dread order of the Danites, established there "by the way," "in the path," that they were, as they sat in the heart of the desert, to be the "judges" of thoqe who passed by! *4 Back of this Bible text lay much bitwrness, induced by a sad history, much suffering and persecution. The Mormons firmly belioved that the order of the Danites was necessary, not only for the purpose of "judging" the earth, but for their own preservation.

More than thirty years ago I first encountered these people. My father and his little Sunday train—that is, a train that would not travel on Sunday in crossing the plains, because of religious scruples—pitched tent on the banks of the Missouri at Council Bluffc, right in their trails. We saw there thousands of caves, little mud huts, hovels, all sorts of miserable little habitations, where the whole mass of mormons had wintered a few seasons before, in their exodus from the United States to what was then supposed to be Mexico. When our train crossed the Missouri and pushed west to try to reach the Pacific, we Mill were in their trails, following the marks their great moving caravan made as it drew its mottled length like a shining serpent across the great deserts to Salt Lake. V.t

I was bul a small lad atthat time, not big enough to bear arms, or indeed to understand much of anything. But this much I understood and understood •o.well that it became apart of my life: that we were in peril. It was not Indians we feared. My father was a Quaker and he feared no man whom he could look in the face. But he did fear the Danites, whom no man might see till they did their bloody work. JT'"

Mot that he or his had ever bad any pert or hand In their persecution but this tenor of them was in the air, it waa ever all things. We knew that onr road lay throughor by Salt Lake. There waa no escaping that. We moat follow on In their track till we came in on oar jouraej to where Dan, who judged his people, lay like a "serpent bythe way," **an adder in the path."

I forgot to mention that my father had done a little something in his quiet Qaaker-like way to help, or try to help, a beautiful young woman who had come In great distress to onr camp one evening, while tested in the old Mormon winter quarters on the banks of the Missouri. Bat surely he had no cause to fear evil for good.

The facta were simply these. This beautiful, black-eyed little lady was one of the ten thousand emigrants starting •ntina long weary line toward the remotest West. She waa with her peapie her parents, brothers and sisters, •ltd some other relatives, if I remember

•OpyrfeAtalty 0. S. Iflhr, 1881.

correctly. This young lady, a girl of eighteen, gifted, graceful, good to her parents, foil of affection, was suffering from an nnccntrollable fear of the Mormons. Her people, she told my father in terrified whispers, were from the same settlement the Mormons originally started from, and she knew that her people would be/'judged" by the Danites when they came to Salt Lake, on their journey to California.

It subsequently appeared, however, that she bad not told quite all the truth. There really had been serious trouble between ber father and the Mormons nearly a year before. And this was the nature of it. The Mormons had grown np in the settlement where the girl's people lived, and were all mixed up among the neighbors. It was not easy to say who was a Mormon and who was not. Converts were new and numerous. A man might be a "Gentile" to-aay and a Mormon to-morrow.

One of the busy women—one of the meddlesome and mischievous kind found in all camps—who knew this poor girl's history better perhaps than she suspected, told the secret of her marriage to one of the new Mormon elders. It was a forbidden marriage too —a marriage on discovery of which her fathbr bad become very furious—and loud with threats to all Mormons. It was true, this busy and meddlesome woman tSaid, as she gadded about, as snch bnsy women will when idle in camp, that the Mormon elder to whom, she was "sealed" had never quite got possession of her that ber father even did not know his daughter's pretended husband, had never seen him in fact. But for all that, the girl bad been married or "sealed" to a Mormon elder and trouble was going to come of it. That was why her father was taking her out of the country and away te California, hissed this garrulous and meddlesome woman that was why she looked so sad and seemed so frightened all the time, continued the gadding and garrulous woman, mysteriously.

Now all in the world that my father did on hearing the story of his beautiful and terrified fiirl, was to go to her people, who were camped close by our tent, and advise, even protest, that they should take some other route to the remote West than this one that lay by Salt Lake. Sorely this was not much. Yet it was enough to put our little Sunday train to perpetual terror of "judgment from the Danites as we pushed on across the plains. We did not see this Miss Lane, the Mormon elder's "wife," again for months. Her father either did not see fit to be adviBed, or, which is more likely, found it impossible then to turn aside and seek another route, and so crossed the Missouri, as if it were a sort of Rubicon, and pushed on ahead. As he had horses and we only oxen, and then, too, as he traveled on Sundays, his party had soon left our little Sunday train along way behind.

And oh! what a motley mass of weary people went stretching away, helpless, dazed, dying, aoross the sands toward the setting sun There were some men with but a single horse to carry their food and blankets. Some men were on foot and alone. There was a man and his wife with a single ox between the shafts of a cart. Many men had little hand-carts which they pushed or drew along, sad and silent, as some one of their number fell dead by the way. Some men had wheelbarrows. Every day we passed dead cattle, deserted wagons, carriages, by the roadside. Every night by some little stream we camped amid new-made graves. £ut there was one conveyance, and one traveller, too, in all this mass of moving, struggling, dying humanity, that was indescribable. This vehicle was not a carriage, not a hand-cart, not a barrow. It was a long, narrow, tbin, black coffin set on two wheels and pushed always by a tall, gaunt, and silent giant. And if there was anything more terrible to us children than the mention ef the Danites, it was the sight of that coffin on wheels, and the great bony face and hollow eyes of the man who, silent and sullen, pushed it along. By and by, and by what means or gradual steps, I know not, we began to associate him with that dreaded order. Maybe it was because the Mormons had made their great journey by the adroit use of barrows of all kinds maybe it was because he looked in his stern and severe silence, as we thought a Danite should look, that we came to suspect him to be a Danite. I do not know now. I only know that, as that long, slim, black coffin crawled along the tawny sand in the sun, or crept stealthily along in onr track aa the moon rose, that great, gaunt, hollow-eyed, and silent giant pushing, plodding on after it, was the most weird, ghostly, and fascinating sight that ever frose young blood.

One night it waa noticed that thia great gaunt, leaning creature could hardly reach camp. He waa seen to push his barrow with effort to the bank of the stream a quarter of a mile away from us, aa was his custom then to stand a stick under an end of it. Then he rolled his heavy bag of books and provisions out of hie singular bed, and with great effort got in and lay down. He was evidently very ill, and my father took me by the hand and went to see him stones. Aa we came np be reached out hia great bony hand, and aa It Ml Into tether's two hands, be said, "I made my barrowbed like a coffin, air, becaasft—because I have bad a grievous disappointment, and fear it may be that I have done wrong In my day* The monks of Rome sleep in their coffins for penance, sir. I am doing penanee. And than, you see, it keepe idlers away, and givee me tine te think and to read books. Books are breed—broad for body and aonl, air, Sit

TEKRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

down, and when I have a little strength I will read you from the holy book of Mormon, sir."

CHAPTER IL BT THB DEAD SKA.

It was called the dead sea in the old days by those who passed that way. The River Jordan still holds its biblical name, as do many of the passes, springs, valleys, and mountain-peaks surrounding Salt Lake.

My father was puzzled as to who this strange man might be, after taking his bond and hearing him talk in his quiet, unselfish, and learned fashion, than ever before. Was he indeed a Danite, or only some poor Mormon, a sort of insane man, doing penance as he professed

It is a great mistake to say that only dishonest, ignorant, and impnre men are fanatics in religion. I frequently recall, when thinking of these things, the gaunt, lean figure of the old learned Caliph who sat on his red camel outside the gates of Jerusalem, demanding the keys of the doomed, city. I see bim dine, as he sits there, on two dried figs and a drink of water from the leather bottle at hi% belt. I see him die at last, after all the wealth of the East has passed untouched, through his bands, with face lifted radiant in hope to the gates of of heaven. That his followers were ignorant, bad at heart, is true. They could not even plead redeeming industry.

Pardon this digression. One is tempted into noting parallels of religious fanaticism, folly, and madness by the singular similarity of the physical characteristics of the two lands—Syria and this Mormon region now known as Utah.

It was a tired, dusty, disheartened little party that touched the Bait-white shore of the dead sea in the heart of the great desert and wilderness of this concontinent more than thirty years ago.

The silent and melancholy man in the long black barrow was quite well enough, after the night's rest which followed my father's visit, to creep on after his coffin the next morning and he kept up, hovering on our border, keeping only a little way in the rear, camping only a little way off, living his singular life all by himself, as before, till we reached the shores of the inland sea.

It is to be confessed that there was not one of our little train that did not hope, expect, almost, that here this man would leave us—this nightmare, Bhadow, and cloud this bird of evil omen, rise at last and fly away. Not bo.

The coffin took up position not five hundred yards away on the bank of the brawling little Btreara which swept into the great black lake, with its gleaming border of crystal-wbite salt. The grass was long and strong here. Some willows cast a cooling shade. Here the tail and hideous giant with the hollow eyes sat and read all day alone. But where was he at night? We children did not fish in that stream once during the whole week of rest here, while purchasing fresh supplies from Salt Lake City, only a few miles away to the south. We stepped high and hurried in the tall grass if by chance any of the cattle went too close to that monstrous shape and we had to go there to drive them back and nearer camp.

My father had been very anxious all the journey to hear from the Lanes. He often asked men who bad slow teams like our own if they had seen this party pass. They had been seen often. At the settlement of Salt Lake he asked for them in vain. t?

One day he ventured to approach the watchful and silent giant who rested by his coffin as he read in the shade of the willows, and asked if ho had had any information about the Lanes.

The man only lifted the lids of his hollow eyes, looked a moment at my father, let them fall, and again went on reading. But seeing that my father stood respectfully by, and was disposed neither to aak again nor even to grow angry and pass ou in silence, he again lifted bis eyes for a necmid, and looking at my father, said, in a deep, solemn, «nd never-to-be-forgotten tone: "Maybe they have been judged and are not!"

And again he went on reading and said no word more, while my father, with pale lip*, silently took my hand and returned to camp. He knew what that awful sentence meant very well.

But the beautiful, black-eyed girl, so full of youth, health, affection, devotion —what monstrous creature in all this world could be found miserable enough to murder her? Surely her parity, ber sweetness, should be aa ten thousand •words to defend her. Her beauty should have been aa an army with banners. What had happened We shall see.

One morning before sunrise, two long haired men on horseback, bearing long rifles before them, dashed up to the grim black shape half-hidden in the rank rye grass there by the bank of the little trout stream, and the bony giant was eeen to sit suddenly bolt upright in hia coffin.

The conference did not last long. Only a few words passed—orders mainly— brief, short, sharp, and mostly made np of monosyllables Mid gestnree and then the long-haired men on horseback, with their long rifles before them, wbeel«id suddenly and disappeared in and hehi&d a grove of the eool, leaning willowa np the stream.

Then it was that the certain conviction aetUed down upon us aa to who this monster was. Men and women too, in the many eampa scattered hers and there np and down the willow-lined stream, began to question thsmseltes with pale lipeif they had aught to answer far, to

these sudden, swift, and merciless "judges" of the tribe of Dan.. The terror that now possessed us, and lay stesdily and still over all, was painful, pitiful. No one dared to speak to his neighbor. No one knew who his neighbor was. There was somewhat of that awful stillness and sad pity over Ibe face of nature which is to be observed when an esrthquake is about to break the heart of our mother, earth.

On the next day four other men, simlliarly mounted, equally abrupt,sudden, and swift, swept up the little stream from the shores of the white-lined sea, and looked up and down and right and left, as if for some one who was lost or escaped. They did not speak to any onef or even come near the silent man up the stream, abovt our camp.' But they beckoned him, and he answered back. They then dashed on up the mountain-side^ which slopes. to the the stream, and, climbing at a steady gallop to the high gray summit, sat there in a group along time, looking to the east, to the west, everywhere, long and eagerly. Then they rode on down the grassy hill toward the head of the stream, and we saw them no more. But a darker shadow than ever was over us now a shadow lay behind them like a shadow of death.

We could not endure the strain any longer. And then, in fact, we were almost ready to set out once more on the long, long journey still before us. Father made excuse that be wanted to catch the cool of the evening. And this gave him some pretence of reason to haste. And So he set out, as the sun went down to move his little train on, on, on, onward over the great white border of this black sea of death—any where, Indeed, to get rid of this nightmare that hovered over, suffocated us. i- i?

Some of our men bad made a boat here out of an old wagon-bed. By the help of a friendly Indian they had rowed far out to a little island with three green trees on it. There was a rock just visible above the black, heavy waters here close to this island.

One of the men who tirent in bathing on the edge of the island swam toward this rock. The Indian was horrified, and with wild yells beckoned him back. But the man was already turning back through the black, heavy water, and making for the island and tho boat with all his might. He had seen the dead body there with log-chains about it—the work of the Danites. And no man dared say so, or even speak of it.

You must know that the water of Salt Lake is so dense and heavy with salt that you cannot possibly sink in it, unless great weights are attached to your body.

I may mention that this rock and this island are no longer visible. The shores of Salt Lake are at least ten feet from their old white line of thirty years ago. And that island and rock in the heart of the great black sea of death are hidden entirely. The ploughed lands have been washed, into the lake, and its pores and outlets have been choked up. Away to the south side of the lake last year I rowed my boat over miles and miles of fencesthat had been swallowed up by the rising waters. The Pacific Railroad Company attempted to build close to the border of this lake on the north side at first. The gradually rising water drove it to the hills.

As our little train began to stretch out and start with its creaking wagons on down and around the white rim of the great lake to the west, in the gorgeous moonlight, we felt sure that we should not be followed by that haunting and horrid spectre that had so long pushed its black shape silently after us. We drew out upon the broad, white salt border, and began to strike away toward the west. He was not with us, not following us, thank Heaven! Every one there took iu along breath, and felt better, freer than for weeks, mouths, 3

Other trains had not brokeu camp. And so it began to be hoped that we would not be missed by the sudden and swift horsemen who claimed jurisdiction here, and asserted and maintained the right of their elders to sit in judgment on the world. Word was passed up and down the line to hasten on as fast as possible, to put as much distance between them and us, between that hideous black box that had haunted us so long and persistently, as possible before dawn.

We had made two miles, perhaps, before taking breath. We had climbed a little hill. Here we paused and looking back, there came creeping across the gleaming white road of aalt, right on onr track as before, that frightful leader of the Danites. He was pushing, with all his Bhow of humility and penance aa before, the long black coffin, across the broad white border of aalt in the matchless moonlight. [To be continued in The Mail next week.]

pABMERS -ANDGABDENEB&

PEOPLE or

CITY AND COUHBTX WILL FWD AT

C.H. Goldsmith's

No. 29 north Fourth street

ALL KIK2S OF

Of the Beat Ymriety.

RECEIVED THIS WEEK

HERZ'S..

2,000 yards Col'd Embroidered Dress Trimmings at 10c and 15c per yard, worth 25c and 40c. 1,000 dozen Hosiery in different grades. 500 dozen Gloves, in Cotton, Lisle, Brilliant and

Silk. ..

400 dozen Handkerchiefs. 150 dozen Corsets.

Some elegant New Styles in Shopping Bags. Allatou well' .• known low prices. Please call and see them.

HEEZ' BAZAK.

CORSETS

:—.A. IN" ZD-

HOSIERY

BUCKEYE CASH STORE.

6th and Main street,

Box of

Moral Decorations, Window Shades,

I*Ubliffe«4 IMS.

Terre Haute IntL

Every purchaser of a CIGAR at FASIG & CO.'S, is entitled to a guegs on the number of Seeds in the Pumpkin, the nearest guess

winning the

Gold AVatcli and Chain.

Every purchaser of TO-y BACCO, at FASIG & C0.'S,r|gp is entitled to a guess 011 the ilium ber of C.offee grains in the jar, the nearest guess %*, winning a

C. H. TRAQUAIR.,

656 Main Street,,

Ako'Anat forth* new Inde*tructible and Imperishable Decorations for the Wall*, Ceilings, Furniture and Art olbJecU on nolid relief. x«i3sroDaxrsT-A. -wjLTjTOisr.

Workmen wot to all part* of the eoantrr. Order* solicited by mail. In calling the attention of the citizens or Terre Haute and vicinity to mynew lineof Wall Papers, I desire to espies my thanks for the very Ube»*l patronage te**°wed^opov

c. H. TRAQUAIR, 006 Main Street, MeKeea's Bloek.

Phfflnix Foundry and Machine Work%

KAiTOFionnai Am MM. i» AI» «»J jj£

Machinery and Machinery-Users Supplies.

Flour Mill Work Our Specialty.

•rif Ir MMi Werk gifee Write er eall on as and see or yotmelve*. Ml

im 999

I«rtk Mirth stare*,

$

Jf*

p« t*-t*

McKeen Block.

Paper Hangings, Oil Cloths,

Ac.

107*4

iifcT

mmr Vmimm

Bep*.

TKaiiBpiAirnc, ra.