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Section twenty two of Army Letters from an Officer's Wife
eighteen seventy one eighteen eighty eight. This is the LibriVox recording.
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by Sue Anderson. Army Letters from an Officer's Wife eighteen
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seventy one eighteen eighty eight by Francis Rowe, Section twenty two,
A last letter from eighteen eighty eight. The Walker House,
Salt Lake City, Utah, September eighteen eighty eight. The weather
is still very warm, but not hot enough to keep
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us from going to the lake as usual this morning.
The ride is about eighteen miles long and is always
more or less pleasant. The cars, often long trains, are narrow,
gage open, and airy. The bathing is delightful, but wholly
unlike anything to be found elsewhere. The wonderfully clear water
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is cool and exhilarating, but to swim in it is impossible.
It is so heavy from its large percentage of salt,
so every one floats, but not at all as one
floats in other waters. We lie upon our backs, of course,
at least we think we do, but our feet are
always out of the water and our heads straight up
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with large straw hats upon them. They have a way
of forming human chains on the water that often startles
one at first. They are made by hooking one's arms
close to the shoulder over the ankles of another person,
still another body hooking on to you, and so on.
Then each one will stretch his or her arms out
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and paddle backward. And in this way we can go
about without much effort, and can see all the funny
things going on around us. As I am rather tall,
second position in a chain is almost always given to me,
and my first acquaintance with masculine toes close to my
face came very near being disastrous. The feet stood straight up,
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and the toes looked so very funny with now and
then a twitch back or front, that soon I wanted
to laugh, And the more I tried not to, the
more hysterical I became. My shoulders were shaking, and the
owner of the toes, a pompous man, began to suspect
that I was laughing, and probably at the toes. Still
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he continued to twist them around, one under the other
in an astonishing way that made them fascinating the head
of the chain. The pompous man became ominously silent. At last,
I said, almost sobbing. Can't you see for yourself how
funny all those things are in front of us. They
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looked like wings in their pin feather stage, only they
are on the wrong side. And I am wondering if
the black stockings would make real black wings, and what
some of us would do with them. After all, After
that there was less pompous dignity and less hysteria, although
the toes continued to wigwag. It is a sight that
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repays one to watch when dozens of these chains, some long,
some short, are paddling about on the blue water that
is often without a ripple. It is impossible to drown,
for sink in it. You cannot but to get the
brining one's nose and throat as dangerous as it easily
causes strangulation, particularly if the person is at all nervous.
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We wear little bits of cotton in our ears to
prevent the water from getting in, for the crust of
salt it would leave might cause intense pain. Bathing in
water so salt makes one both hungry and sleepy. Therefore,
it is considered quite the correct thing to eat hot
popcorn and snooze. On the return trip, we get the
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popcorn at the pavilion, put up in attractive little bags,
and it is always crisp and delicious. Just imagine a long,
open car full of people, each man, woman and child
greedily munching the tender corn. By the time one bagful
has been eaten, heads begin to wobble, and soon there
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is a land of nod, real nod too. Some days,
when the air is particularly soft and balmy, everyone in
the car will be oblivious of his whereabouts. Not one
stop is made from the lake to the city. Faye
and I were at the lake almost a week. Garfield
Beach the bathing place is called, so I could make
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a few watercolor drawings early in the morning, when the
tints on the water are so pearly and exquisitely delicate.
During the day, the lake is usually a wonderful blue,
deep and brilliant, and the colors at sunset are past description.
The sun disappears back of the Okira Mountains in a
world of glorious yellow and orange, and as twilight comes on,
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the mountains take on violet and purple shades that become
deeper and deeper until night covers all from sight. There
was not a vacant room at Garfield Beach, so they
gave us two large rooms at black Rock, almost one
mile away, but on the car line. The rooms were
in a low, long building that might easily be mistaken
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for soldiers barracks, and which had broad verandas with low
roofs all along both sides. That queer building had been
built by Brigham Young for his seven wives. It consisted
of seven apartments of two rooms each, a sitting room
and a sleeping room. All the sitting rooms were on
one side, opening out upon the one veranda, and the
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bedrooms were on the other side and opened out upon
the other verandah. These apartments did not connect in any
way except by the two porches. Not far from that
building was another that had once been the dining room
and kitchen of the seven wives. Those Mormon women must
be simply idiotic or have their tempers under good control.
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It was almost interesting and a remarkable experience to have
lived in one of Brigham Young's very own houses. But
the place was ghostly, lonesome beyond everything, and when the
wind moaned and sighed through the rooms. One could fancy
it was the wailing of the spirits of those seven
wretched wives. When we returned at night to the dark,
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unoccupied building, it seemed more spooky than ever. After the
music and light at Garfield Beach, our meals were served
to us at the restaurant at the pavilion. I made
some very good sketches of the lake and island, and
a number of the wonderful black rock that is out
in the lake. Opposite the Brigham Young House. About two
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miles from the city and upon the side of the
Wahsatch Mountains is Camp Douglas, an army post which the
new Department commander came to inspect. The inspection was in
the morning, and we all went to see it and
were driven in the post with the booming of cannon,
the salute always given a brigadier general when he enters
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a post. Officially, it was pretty to see the general's
wife partly cover her ears and pretend that she did
not like the noise, when all the time her eyes
were sparkling, and we knew that every roar of the
big guns added to her pride. If all those guns
had been for Fay, I could never have stayed in
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the ambulance. It is charming up there in the post,
and the view is magnificent. We sat out on a
vine covered porch during the inspection and watched the troops
and the review. It made me so happy and yet
so homesick too, to see Fate once more in his uniform.
The inspection was all too short, and after it was over,
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many officers and their wives came to call upon us.
When wine and delicious cake was served, we were at
the quarters of the Colonel and post commander. That was
the second post we had taken missus ord to, and
she is suddenly enthusiastic over army people, forgetting that Omaha
has a post of its own. But with us, she
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has been in the tale of the Comet, which made
things more interesting. Army people are nice, though, particularly in
their own little garrison homes. There is only one Mormon's
store here, and that is very large and cooperative. Every
Mormon who has anything whatever to sell is compelled to
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take it to that store to be appraised and a
percentage taken from it. There are a few nice gentile shops,
but Mormons cannot enter them. They can purchase only at
the Mormons store, where the gentiles are ever cordially welcomed. Also,
splendid fruit and vegetables are grown in this valley, especially
the fruit, which is superior to any we ever saw.
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The grapes are of many varieties, each one large and
rich with flavor. And the peaches and big yellow pears
are most luscious. Upon our table down in the dining
room there is always an immense glass bowl of selected fruit, peaches, pears,
and grapes, and each time we go down it seems
to look more attractive. We have been to see the Tabernacle,
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with its marvelous acoustic properties, and the temple, which is
not yet finished. The immense pipe organ in the tabernacle
was built where it now stands, and entirely by Mormons.
From Brigham Young's old home. A grand boulevard runs through
the city, across the valley and over the hill. Far away,
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and how much beyond I do not know. This road,
so broad and white, Brigham Young said, would lead to Jerusalem.
They have a river Jordan here too, a little stream
that runs just outside the city. There are grand trees
in every street and every old yard, and one cannot
help feeling great indignation to see where in some places
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the incoming Gentiles have cut trees down to make space
for modern, showy buildings that are so wholly out of
harmony with the low, artistic white houses and vine covered walls.
It is such a pity that these high red buildings
could not have been kept outside, and the old Mormon
city left in its original quaint beauty. We will return
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to Omaha soon now, and I shall at once become
busy with preparations for the winter east. I have decided
to go home in October so I can have a long,
comfortable visit before going to Washington. Fay wishes me to
join him there the last of December. I am not
very enthusiastic over the prospect of crowded rooms, daily receptions
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and teas, and other affairs of more formality, But since
I cannot return to the plains, I might as well
go to the city, where we will meet people of culture,
see the fascinating diplomatic corps, and be presented to the
President's beautiful young wife. Later on there will be the inauguration.
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For we expect to pass the winter in Washington. End
of Section twenty two. End of Army Letters from an
Officer's Wife eighteen seventy one eighteen eighty eight by Francis Rowe,