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But however fabulous that may be, we know of a surety that on July 29, 1776, two Franciscan friars set out from Santa Fé to find a direct route to the Pacific Ocean. In their wanderings they strayed far to the north, where they came across many representatives of the Utes, who proved to be a loving, faithful, hospitable people. From their lips the Spaniards heard the first description ever listened to by white men of the region of country containing the present site of Ogden. "The lake," the Utes said, "occupies many leagues. Its waters are injurious and extremely salt. He that wets any part of his body in this water immediately feels an itching in the wet parts. In the circuit of this lake live a numerous and quiet nation called Puaguampe. They feed on herbs, and drink from various fountains or springs of good water which are about the lake, and they have their little houses of grass and earth, which latter forms the roof."

So the Great Salt Lake makes its entrance into comparatively modern American history.

In 1825, Peter Skeen Ogden, accompanied by his party of Hudson Bay Company trappers, pursued his brilliant adventures, and left behind a record which induced the naming of the city after him.

In 1841, the country around the spot where the city now lies was held, on a Spanish grant, by Miles M. Goodyear, who built a fort and a few log-houses near the confluence of the Weber and Ogden rivers.

On June 6, 1848, a man named James Brown came from California with his pockets stuffed with gold dust; nearly five thousand dollars' worth of the precious thing had he. With part of it he bought this tract of land from Goodyear. It proved to be a most fertile spot. Brethren came to it from Salt Lake City. Gentiles came from everywhere. The settlement grew and prospered.

In 1849, people began to talk of locating a city right there at the junction of the two rivers.

In 1850, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, and others, laid out the settlement and called it Ogden, after Peter Skeen Ogden, the explorer, long since dead, but whose dashing, daring, brilliant adventures were still charming to the men of that wild land. Every time the city's name is mentioned it is another proof that although,

"The man might die, his memory lives."

Before a year was over a school house was built in the city.

Then came that un-American sight, a wall of protection built around a city. It cost $40,000, which amount was raised by taxation.

About this time several suburban settlements were formed, but bears, wolves, and Indians soon drove the venturesome suburbanites within city limits.

Just then a party of immigrants encamping on the Malade River shot two Indian women. By way of reprisal the savages killed a pioneer named Campbell who was building a saw-mill near Ogden, and threatened to massacre the entire population of the town. Matters began to look serious, and the commander of the Nauvoo Legion gave the Indians chase, and so overwhelmed them that they at once retreated, taking with them no captives more important than many horses and cattle belonging to the white settlers.

October 23, 1851, the first municipal election was held in Ogden.

1852 found one hundred families living within city boundaries.

In 1854, a memorial was addressed to Congress, by the territorial legislature, urging the construction of an overland railroad. But it was May, 1868, before a contract was made between Brigham Young and the superintendent of construction of the Union Pacific Railroad for grading between Echo Canyon and the terminus of the line. At Weber Canyon there was blasting, tunnelling, and heavy stone work for bridges to be done. This work earned 1,000,000 or perhaps 1,250,000 dollars' worth of wages. The labor was splendidly done, but the remuneration came slowly. Finally, however, the Union Pacific Railroad turned over 600,000 dollars' worth of rolling stock, and other property to the Mormons. On May 17, 1869, ground was broken for a railroad between Salt Lake City and Ogden. So the city grew and flourished.

Ogden has an elevation of 4,340 feet. The ground plan of the city is spacious, the drainage good, the climate exceedingly healthy.

About the time I rode through, the population numbered 6,000 souls. The city contained one of the finest schools in Utah, a hotel which ranked among the best in the Union, a daily paper, a theatre, three banks, numerous Gentile churches, a 16,000 dollar bridge across the Weber, a reservoir, and a Court House, which was such an architectural beauty that all Utah may well be proud of it.

So Ogden came through narrow ways to broad ways! So she

"Climbed the ladder, round by round!"

She has won the respect and admiration of all who have watched her. May her industry never fail, her enthusiasm never lessen, her pluck remain indomitable, and may good fortune perch forever on her banners!

CHAPTER XXVIII
OVER THE SIERRAS

Sierra is the Spanish word for 'saw' and also for 'mountain,' referring to the notched outline of the mountains as seen against the sky.

My main object now was to push on to Sacramento. At Kelton, in Utah, where I remained only a few hours, I was still seven hundred and ninety miles from my destination. Stock is extensively grazed here and cattle shipped to the Pacific coast in very large numbers. Leaving Kelton, I rode thirty-three miles to Terrace, a small settlement in the midst of a desert; thence to Wells in the adjoining State of Nevada.

Nevada belongs to the "Great Basin," a table-land elevated 4,500 feet above the sea. It is traversed, with great uniformity, by parallel mountain ranges, rising from 1,000 to 8,000 feet high, running north and south. Long, narrow valleys, or canyons, lie between them. The Sierra Nevada, in some places 13,000 feet in height, extends along the western boundary of the State. The only navigable river is the Colorado, but there are several other streams rising in the mountains and emptying into lakes which have no visible outlet. Lake Tahoe is twenty-one miles long, ten miles wide and fifteen hundred feet deep. Although it is elevated 6,000 feet above the sea level, the water of this lake never freezes and has a mean temperature of 57° for the year. Nevada has its hot springs, some of which have a temperature of two hundred degrees.

A heavy growth of timber, particularly of pine, fir, and spruce, covers the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada, many of the trees attaining enormous size. There are numerous alkaline flats, and extensive sand plains, where nothing grows. The first discovery of silver ore was made on the Comstock lode in 1859, from which more than $100,000,000 have been taken. This has been the most valuable silver-bearing lode ever discovered in the world, exceeding in wealth the mines of Peru and Mexico. It is now exhausted and yields only low-grade ores.

Wells, my first resting-point in the Sierras, stands at an elevation of over 5,600 feet, and had a population of less than 300. Farming and stock raising are its principal industries. Formerly it was a watering and resting-place for old emigrant travel, where pure water was obtained – a luxury after crossing the Great Desert; and an abundance of grass for the weary animals. Some of the wells here are 1,700 feet deep.

Stopped next for the night at Halleck, a small village – over 5,000 feet elevation – thirteen miles from Camp Halleck, where United States troops are occasionally stationed. Leaving Halleck after a night's rest and a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs, I rode twenty-four miles to Elko, six hundred and nineteen miles from San Francisco. This important town stands at an elevation of 5,063 feet above sea-level and is on the Humboldt River. The State University is situated here. Silver smelting works and manufactures of farming implements were the principal industries. One daily and two weekly papers were well supported. There were also three large freight depots for the accommodation of the railway business. I noticed several Indians about the town. The hot mineral springs of Elko are considered of great value for bathing. Population at the time of my visit, about 1,700, but the town is destined to develop into an important city. The money paid for freights consigned to this place, averaged $1,000,000 a year.

Leaving Elko, I pushed on for thirty miles. The pastures and meadows, with isolated cottages, were soon passed and I reached Palisade in the evening, a village of 250 inhabitants. Remained here for the night. For the last two hundred miles the road had been a gradual descent and the change of temperature was very perceptible. Palisade is a growing little place with a population of about 400 souls. It is located about half-way down a canyon, whose rocky, perpendicular walls give it a singular but picturesque appearance.

My mustang carried me forty-one miles next day, to Argentina, where I rested. This village is located in the midst of alkali flats and seemed to me an unattractive place for a residence. Continuing my journey along the foot of Reese River Mountain, I soon found myself at Battle Mountain, at the junction of Reese River and Humboldt valleys. The town of Battle Mountain has several stores, a public hall, a good school house and an excellent hotel; with increasing trade. The mountain from which the town derives its name is about three miles south of the latter and is said to have been the scene of a conflict between a party of emigrants and a band of Indians.

Golconda was reached on the evening of the following day – four hundred and seventy-eight miles from San Francisco. Here are gold and silver mines, but the place was small and calls for no further remark. Remounted at sunrise the following morning and rode to Winnemucca, the county-seat of Humboldt County. The town has a fine brick Court House, together with several stores, a hotel, shops and a school house.

Reached Humboldt the following day, where I was reminded that I was still in the land of civilization. Stopped at the Humboldt House, a most comfortable hostelry, its surroundings recalling my home in the East. Humboldt is the business centre of several mining districts and has a bright prospect before it.

Lovelocks, the next point reached, is also on the Central Pacific Railroad. It is a grazing region, and large herds of cattle are fattened upon the rich native grasses. Leaving Lovelocks, I found myself again on a barren desert, covered in places with salt and alkali deposits. Another station in the midst of this desert is Hot Springs. Pushing forward I reached Desert, three hundred and thirty-five miles from San Francisco. The village is rightly named, for it is, in truth, a dreary place. I was much relieved on reaching Wadsworth, a town of about 700 inhabitants, and only three hundred and twenty-eight miles from the end of my journey. Some large stores here do a flourishing business. There are also several good hotels, in one of which I was soon comfortably housed. For several days I had seen nothing but dreary, monotonous plains, and now, almost another world opened to my view – a world of beauty and sublimity. It was with reluctance I left Wadsworth and crossed the Truckee River. The trees, green meadows, comfortable farmhouses, and well-tilled fields, were pleasant to look upon, and with the prospect of soon reaching my final destination, I rode on, and crossed the boundary into California.

Truckee, although within the State of California, is in the Sierra Nevada, one hundred and twenty-one miles from Sacramento. The village is handsomely built, the surroundings picturesque and finely timbered, and there is a line of stages running to the beautiful Lakes Tahoe and Donner.

CHAPTER XXIX.
ALONG THE SACRAMENTO

From Truckee I rode along the line of the Central Pacific Railroad, stopping for the night at villages intermediate between Truckee and Sacramento, the principal of which were Summit, Colfax and Auburn. Summit is the highest point of the pass through which the railroad crosses the Sierra Nevada, its height above sea-level being 7,042 feet. The population was only a little over one hundred. Colfax, fifty-four miles from Sacramento, had a population of nearly six hundred, mostly employed in the gold mines in the vicinity. Auburn, thirty-six miles from Sacramento, is also a gold-mining village. Its population was given me as over 1,200. Two weekly papers are published here, and three hotels offer good accommodations to tourists and others. Sacramento was reached November twenty-first, and here I found myself within a hundred miles of my destination.

California has the Pacific Ocean for its western boundary. Along the seaboard lies the Coast Range of mountains, while for an eastern boundary of the State stretch the Sierras. Between these two chains lies many a hill, yet, in the main, the whole interior of the State is a great depression, called the Valley of California. The northern portion is called again the Sacramento Valley; the southern, the Valley of San Joaquin, both named for the streams that water them.

The inhabitants are a motley set; English, Celts, Spaniards, Mexicans, Indians, and above all the man from the eastern part of the United States, leaving his impress on all, Americanizing all.

Sutter's Fort, as already explained, was founded in 1839, very near the junction of the Sacramento and San Joaquin valleys, by a Swiss named John A. Sutter. It stood on a small hill, skirted by a creek which falls into the American River near its junction with the Sacramento, and overlooked a vast extent of ditch-enclosed fields, and park stock ranges, broken by groves and belts of timber. The settlement consisted of the Fort and an old adobe house, called the hospital. A garden of eight or ten acres, filled with vegetables and tropical fruits, surrounded the Fort, cattle covered the plains and boats were tied to the wharves.

Sutter's confirmed grant contained eleven leagues.

The Fort, so called, was a parallelogram. Its walls were of adobe, its dimensions five hundred by one hundred and fifty feet. It had loop-holes, bastions at the angles, and twelve cannon.

Inside of the walls were granaries, warehouses, storehouses, shops, and in the centre of it all the house of the commander, the potentate, Sutter. His house was rough, "Bare rafters and unpanelled walls." Many of the rooms were roughly furnished, crude benches and deal tables. Fine China bowls did duty for both cups and plates, and silver spoons were the only luxury which marked the service of the meals.

For his private apartments Sutter obtained from the Russians a clumsy set of California laurel furniture.

In front of his house, yet within the stockade, was a tiny square containing one brass gun, by which, day and night, paced a sentry, stopping only at the belfry post to chime the hours.

The Fort was a business centre. In it was located a blacksmith, a carpenter, and a general variety and liquor store. Prices were booming. Four dollars were charged for shoeing a horse. Wheat sold for one dollar per bushel, peas for a dollar and a half per bushel.

A sort of gravel road led to the spot, over which horses galloped, and heavy wagons rolled.

Sutter owned twelve thousand cattle, two thousand horses and mules, from one thousand to fifteen hundred sheep, and two thousand hogs.

This unique Fort was "the capital of the vast interior valley, pregnant with approaching importance."

In 1846, Sutter staked out the town of Sutterville, three miles below the Fort on the Sacramento, and built the first house there. His example was shortly followed by a man named Zims, who erected the first real brick structure in the State.

The Fort and town kept up regular communication with San Francisco by means of a twenty-ton sloop owned by Sutter, and manned by a few savages in his employ.

There was a ferry at the Fort, which consisted of a single canoe handled by an Indian.

The strangest of populations gathered about the settlement. Emigrants were there, many Mormons among them. Native Californians were there, wearing sombreros, sashes, and jingling spurs. Half-subdued Indians abounded, wrapped in their blankets, and decked with beads and feathers. While here and there appeared a shrewd Yankee, come across mountains of snow and rocks to seek his fortune.

The climate of Sacramento is charming, the average temperature in winter being 45°; that in summer 69°. The thermometer does not vary ten degrees between night and day. The sea breezes are constant, leaving rarely an uncooled night. Rainfall is a tenth less than on the Atlantic Coast. Early autumn finds this region dry and arid; its small streams dried up, the green fields sere, the weeds snapping like glass.

The winter rain begins in November, after six months of clear weather, and under its grateful ministry the region "buds and blossoms like the rose."

John A. Sutter, potentate of the region, in 1847, needed lumber, and therefore needed a saw-mill. His neighbors wanted lumber, too, and there would be a good market for it in San Francisco. Therefore a saw-mill would be profitable; but no trees suitable for this purpose could be found short of the foot-hills. Consequently the foot-hills were selected as the spot upon which he would build.

He engaged a motley company of all nationalities to erect his mill, appointing James Wilson Marshall, a native of New Jersey, as superintendent of the venture.

In August they started for their new field of enterprise, taking their belongings in Mexican ox-carts, and driving a flock of sheep before them for food.

By New Year's day, 1848, the mill frame was up.

On the afternoon of January twenty-fourth, Superintendent Marshall was inspecting the tail-race of the mill. There had been a heavy flood, which had previously retreated, and to his surprise Marshall found the ground thickly strewn with a peculiar yellow dust. He stooped down and gathered some of it, remarking quietly, "Boys, I believe I have found a gold mine!" Then he began some simple tests upon the metal. Gold must be heavy. He weighed it. That was all right. Gold must be malleable. He bit and pounded it, and it stood the test. Then he applied aqua fortis to it, and it responded as it should. And so the truth was known at last. It was gold, and the ground was full of it.

Marshall saddled his horse, and dashed over to consult with Sutter, and together they agreed to keep the matter quiet, and if possible to buy up the surrounding land. But how to buy it. That was the question! They leased it from its semi-barbaric owners, paying for it in hats and trinkets, but that title seemed insecure. The Mexican government could no longer give grants. The United States government was appealed to in vain. The answer came that California was held as a conquered province, and no title deed could be executed.

And meantime the precious secret leaked out. Sutter was impelled to write the wonderful news to friends at a distance. All the men at the saw-mill knew of the discovery. One of them, named Bennett, while in a store near Monte del Diablo, pulled out of his pocket a bag of gold dust, exclaiming, "I have something here which will make this the greatest country in the world." The same man took a specimen of the precious metal and showed it at San Francisco. A few days later an intoxicated Swede offered, at a store, to pay for his drink in gold dust. Then a Mormon must tell his fellow-saints of the discovery. So the secret was out, and the precious mystery became public.

Both Sutter and Marshall were backwoodsmen, unsophisticated, child-like, trustful, slow. They hesitated, they faltered, they delayed mining, and they were lost! Before they fully comprehended the matter, the great world had rushed in, and taken possession of the treasure.

In the last issue of The Californian appears this only too true statement: "The whole country from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and from the sea-shore to the base of the Sierra Nevada, resounds to the sordid cry of gold! GOLD!! GOLD!!! while the field is left half planted, the house half built, and everything neglected but the manufacture of shovels and pick-axes, and the means of transportation to the spot where one man obtained one hundred and twenty-eight dollars' worth of the real stuff in one day's washing, and the average for all concerned is twenty dollars per diem."

In the rush Marshall and Sutter were crushed.

Marshall had little or no money to invest. He was particularly unfortunate in locating his small claims. Worst of all, the miners, knowing him to be the great discoverer, followed him en masse, believing that he knew the secrets of the hills and rivers. The crowds so overwhelmed him, that he had no chance to mine. They even threatened to hang him if he did not lead them to the finest diggings. In a few years after, he died, miserable, broken-hearted, poverty-stricken.

Sutter fared but little better. True, he sold a half-interest in his saw-mill for six thousand dollars, and he gained something from the mining of his Indians, but Sutter's Fort was, for the time being, ruined. Let him tell the story in his own words. He says:

"My grist mill was never finished. Everything was stolen, even the stones. There is a saying that men will steal everything but a mile-stone and a mill-stone. They stole my mill-stones. They stole the bells from the Fort, and gate-weights; the hides they stole, and salmon barrels. I had two hundred barrels which I made for salmon. Some of the cannon at the fort were stolen. * * My property was all left exposed, and at the mercy of the rabble, when gold was discovered. My men all deserted me. I could not shut the gates of my Fort, and keep out the rabble. They would have broken them down. The country swarmed with lawless men. Emigrants drove their stock into my yard, and used my grain with impunity. Expostulation did no good. I was alone. There was no law."

In face of all these disadvantages he struggled on until farm helpers demanded ten dollars per day, then, a hopeless old man, he gave up the struggle, and in 1849, with his Indians, he moved into Hock Farm, little dreaming that his Fort was to be the nucleus for Sacramento, the second city as to size in California.

He retired, but his son took the reins out of the father's feeble hands, and staked out a town around the Old Fort, down to the embarcadero, and along the river front, naming the settlement Sacramento. The streets were laid out eighty feet wide, except the centre one, M street, which was one hundred feet in width. The purchasing of more than four lots by one person was discouraged.

At first Sacramento was a "city of tents, with its future on paper;" but by April of that year, 1849, building lots were selling at from one thousand to three thousand dollars a piece; at that time there were twenty-five or thirty stores upon the embarcadero, and, in the vicinity of the Fort, eight or ten more. There was a hotel, a printing office, bakery, blacksmith's shop, tin-shop, billiard room, and bowling alley.

In that month of April, the city had the honor of becoming a port of entry.

By June of the same year, one hundred houses graced the city.

A few months later the city hotel was completed at a cost of one hundred thousand dollars, and rented to Messrs. Fowler and Fry for five thousand dollars per month.

In 1850, the scourge of cholera broke out, carrying off one-fifth of those remaining in Sacramento. The city was full to overflowing with a transient population. Accommodations were scant and primitive, vice and disorder prevailed. The disease became rampant. Patients at the hospital were charged sixteen dollars per day. Then it was that the order of Odd Fellows came nobly forward, setting to that plague-stricken district an example of charity and philanthropy long to be remembered, and accenting the fact "that simple duty has no place for fear!"

On February 25, 1854, Sacramento was designated as the seat of government of California. The dignity of being the State capital gave new life to the city. Her growth is instanced by the assessment on real estate, which rose from $5,400,000 in 1854, to $13,000,000 in twenty years.

When I rode through, the population was 21,400.

In 1853 the streets were planked, and provided with sewers. In 1854 a gas company was formed. The street railroad came in 1870. There were ten churches in the city as I found it.

The first public school came in 1855, the high school in 1856.

When I was there the city had sustained from time to time about forty daily papers and twenty-four weeklies.

The State Library is a brilliant feature of the place. Various large manufacturing interests thrive in the city. Its commerce is awe-inspiring.

Sacramento sent to the east in one year 90,000,000 pounds of fruit, her entire east-bound shipments being over 130,000,000 pounds.

The annual manufacturing and jobbing trade is over $60,000,000.

Looking at these statistics, one is reminded of the magic tent of Prince Ahmed. At first it was no bigger than a nut-shell. Surely it could hold nothing; but it did. People flocked to it. Surely it could not cover them; – but it did! it did!! The army flocked to it; – but the tent was elastic. It covered all; it sheltered all; it welcomed all.

Has not Sacramento proved itself the magic tent of the Golden Age, ready to cover, shelter, welcome the whole world should occasion require?

From Sacramento to San Francisco my route lay along the eastern shore of the river, and few halts were made between the two cities. I was anxious to reach my final destination, as a feeling of fatigue was now overcoming me, which, however, only served to stimulate and urge me forward. I passed several places that strongly tempted a halt for refreshment and rest, and finally entered the Western Metropolis on the twenty-fourth of November, registering at the Palace Hotel.