The long-drawn monotony of the journey caused the entries in her journal to become exceedingly monotonous to Jean, who often neglected a duty she would have highly prized had she been able to foresee the value of the record she was making under constant protest.
On the tenth of July she wrote as follows: "We are now in Utah Territory, which is the first organized part of Uncle Sam's dominions we have set foot upon since leaving the Missouri River. Our hunters to-day killed an antelope and a brace of * fool ' hens, or sage-chickens, which our half- famished crowd cooked and ate with relish.
"What a way we human animals have of preying upon the brute creation, as we falsely name the mild-eyed entities which we must slay and eat that we may live! I have no heart to write. I can only think of the beautiful eyes of that antelope we have killed and eaten, and of the sage-hens that were not enough afraid of a boot that Yank threw at them to get out of his way. And we called them * fools ' because they trusted us, who, as compared to them, are knaves."
After crossing the Rocky Mountains through a huge and devious gap ^ by ascents and descents so gradual that nothing but the changing trend of the water-currents marked the point or points of demarcation, the train reached a height overlooking the valley of the Great Salt Lake,—the "Promised Land "of the Latter-Day Saints, who even in that early day had made it, in many spots, to blossom as the rose.
The almost intolerable heat of midday was followed at night by cold and marrow-piercing winds, making both day and night uncomfortable.
"No wonder the immigrants are ill, Mr. Burns," said Mrs. McAlpin, one evening, when, as she could not politely avoid him, she sought to control the conversation. "Nothing saves any of us but the snow-laden air from these grand old mountains. I have stood on the
^ Since called the Ogden Gateway.
