There was no crowd in the streets, except near the temple. There was a superabundance of females, which was accounted for by the peculiar tenets of Mormons; but it is a mistake to suppose that all the Mormons are polygamists. They can do as they please; but it may be stated that the females are chiefly anxious to wed, as unmarried women are not admitted to the full privileges of membership. These poor creatures do not appear to be well off or happy. Some perhaps are rich and clothed in European style, but the majority were dressed à la Indienne.
Passe-partout beheld these women with some degree of awe, but above all he pitied the husbands of these wives. It seemed to him to be an awful thing to guide so many wives through all the mazes of life, and to conduct them to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of meeting the glorious Joe Smith, who no doubt was there a shining light. He felt quite disgusted, and he fancied—perhaps he was mistaken—that some of the young ladies gazed at him alarmingly, and in a manner to compromise his liberty.
Fortunately his sojourn in the City of the Saints was not of long duration. At four o'clock the travellers took their places in the return train. The whistle sounded, but just as the train began to move a cry was heard, "Stop, stop!"
But the train did not stop. The gentleman who uttered these cries was a Mormon too late for the train. He ran till he was out of breath. Fortunately the railroad was quite open, there were no barriers nor gates to pass. He rushed along the line, jumped upon the footboard of the last carriage, and then threw himself panting into the nearest seat. Passe-partout, who had been watching him intently, learnt that he had run away after some domestic quarrel, and when the Mormon had recovered his breath Passe-partout plucked up courage to inquire how many wives the fugitive had left, as, judging from his anxiety to get away, he must have had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms to heaven. "One, sir; and, by thunder, that one was quite enough!"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
In which Passe-partout cannot make anyone listen to the Language of
Reason.
The train leaving Salt Lake and Ogden Station went on northwards as far as Weber River, about nine hundred miles from San Francisco; from this point it turned to the west across the Wahsatch range. It was in this part of the State that the American engineers had found the greatest difficulty. In this portion of the line also the Government subsidy had been raised to forty-eight thousand dollars a mile, instead of the sixteen thousand dollars a mile on the plains; but the engineers, so it is said, had stolen a march on nature, turned all the difficulties instead of cutting through them, and pierced only one tunnel of fourteen thousand feet in length.
At Salt Lake the line reached its greatest altitude—from that point it took a long curve towards Bitter-creek Valley, and then rose again to the watershed between the valley and the Pacific Creeks were numerous hereabout, and Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others were successively crossed on culverts. As they approached the end of their journey Passe-partout became more and more impatient, while Fix was very anxious to get on, for he feared delays and accidents, and was more anxious to reach England than even Phileas Fogg.
The train stopped for a short time at Fort Bridger at ten o'clock, and twenty miles farther on entered Wyoming State, formerly Dakota. The next day, the 7th of December, they stopped at Green River. Sleet had fallen during the night, but not sufficient to interfere with the traffic. However, this bad weather annoyed Passe-partout very much, for any great fall of snow would have compromised the success of the journey.