“When pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist and not with stick.”
He began with generalisms about humility, faithfulness, obeying counsel, and not beggaring one’s neighbor. Addressing the hand-cart emigrants, newly arrived from the “sectarian world,” he warned them to be on the look-out, or that every soul of them would be taken in and shaved (a laugh). Agreeing with the Prophet—Mr. Kimball is said to be his echo—in a promiscuous way concerning the morality of the Saints, he felt it notwithstanding his duty to say that among them were “some of the greatest rascals in the world” (a louder laugh, and N.B., the Mormons are never spared by their own preachers). After a long suit of advice, à propos de rien, to missionaries, he blessed, amen’d, and sat down.
After Mr. Kimball’s address, a list of names for whom letters were lying unclaimed was called from the platform. Mr. Eldridge, a missionary lately returned from foreign travel, adjourned the meeting till 2 P. M., delivered the prayer of dismissal, during which all stood up, and ended with the benediction and amen. The Sacrament was not administered on this occasion. It is often given, and reduced to the very elements of a ceremony; even water is used instead of wine, because the latter is of Gentile manufacture. Two elders walk up and down the rows, one carrying a pitcher, the other a plate of broken bread, and each Saint partakes of both.
ON THE COMSTOCK
J. ROSS BROWNE
“A Peep at Washoe,” and “Washoe Revisited.” Reprinted by permission of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXII, No. 123 and Vol. XXXI, No. 181. Harper and Brothers, New York.
I
1860
I was desirous of seeing as much of the mining region as possible, and with this view took the stage for Virginia City. The most remarkable peculiarity on the road was the driver, whose likeness I struck in a happy moment of inspiration. At Silver City, eight miles from Carson, I dismounted, and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. The road here becomes rough and hilly, and but little is to be seen of the city except a few tents and board shanties. Half a mile beyond is a remarkable gap cut by Nature through the mountain, as if for the express purpose of giving the road an opportunity to visit Virginia City.
As I passed through the Devil’s Gate it struck no indecorous sense. I was simply about to ask where he lived, when, looking up the road, I saw amidst the smoke and din of shivered rocks, where grimy imps were at work blasting for ore, a string of adventurers laden with picks, shovels, and crowbars; kegs of powder, frying-pans, pitch-forks, and other instruments of torture—all wearily toiling in the same direction; decrepit old men, with avarice imprinted upon their furrowed brows; Jews and Gentiles, foot-weary and haggard; the young and the old, the strong and the weak, all alike burning with an unhallowed lust for lucre; and then I shuddered as the truth flashed upon me that they were going straight to—Virginia City.