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Chap. III.
MICHAEL MARTIN'S STORE.—AN ORIGINAL.
173

We then ran down the river valley, which was here about one mile in breadth, in a smooth flooring of clay, sprinkled with water-rolled pebbles, overgrown in parts with willow, wild cherry, buffalo berries, and quaking asp. Macarthy pointed out in the road-side a rough grave, furnished with the normal tomb-stone, two pieces of wagon-board: it was occupied by one Farren, who had fallen by the revolver of the redoubtable Slade. Presently we came to the store of Michael Martin, an honest Creole, who vended the staple of prairie goods, Champagne, bottled cocktail, "eye-opener," and other liquors, dry goods—linen drapery—a few fancy goods, ribbons, and finery; brandied fruits, jams and jellies, potted provisions, buckskins, moccasins, and so forth. Hearing that Lieutenant Dana was en route for Camp Floyd, he requested him to take charge of $500, to be paid to Mr. Livingston, the sutler, and my companion, with the obligingness that marked his every action, agreed to deliver the dollars, sauve the judgment of God in the shape of Indians, or "White Indians."[1] At the store we noticed a paralytic man. This original lived under the delusion that it was impossible to pass the Devil's Gate: his sister had sent for him to St. Louis, and his friends tried to transport him eastward in chairs; the only result was that he ran away before reaching the Gate, and after some time was brought back by Indians.

Resuming our journey, we passed two places where trains of fifty-one wagons were burned in 1857 by the Mormon Rangers: the black stains had bitten into the ground like the blood-marks

    ica at a time when individual enterprise was inadequate to the task; in the year one of the Republic it became, under the direction of Benjamin Franklin, a state department, and, though men argue in the abstract, few care to propose a private mail system, which would undertake the management of some 27,000 scattered offices and 40,000 poorly paid clerks.
    On this line we saw all the evils of the contract system. The requisite regularity and quickness was neglected, letters and papers were often lost, the mail-bags were wetted or thrown carelessly upon the ground, and those intrusted to the conductors were perhaps destroyed. Both parties complain—the postmaster that the contractors seek to drive too hard a bargain with the department, and the contractors that they are carrying the mails at a loss. Since the restoration (in 1858) of the postal communication with the United States which was interrupted in 1857, the Mormons attempt to secure good service by advertising their grievances, and with tolerable success. Postmaster Morrill—a Gentile—complained energetically of the mail service during the last year, that letters were wetted and jumbled together, two of one month perhaps and one of another; that magazines often arrived four months after date, and that thirty sacks left at Rocky Ridge were lost. The consequence was that during my stay at Great Salt Lake City the contractors did their duty.
    When salaries are small and families large, post-office robberies must at times be expected. The postal department have long adopted the system of registered letters: upon payment of five cents instead of three, the letter is placed in a separate bag, entered separately in the office books, forwarded with certain precautions, and delivered to the address only after a receipt from the recipient. But the department disclaims all responsibility in case of loss or theft, and the only value of the higher stamp is a somewhat superior facility of tracking the document that bears it.

  1. A cant term for white thieves disguised as savages, which has a terrible significancy a little farther West.