INTRODUCTION.

WILL you go with me to California and Oregon ?” asked Artemus Ward, at the Revere House, New York, one day in the summer of 1863.

California being to me what the Americans phrase "an old stamping ground"—a land with which I was familiar, I at once assented; for "Nulla vestigia retrorsum" is not the motto of any one who has once trodden the soil of the Golden State, nor who has once felt the luxury of life in a climate to which that of Greece is the nearest European analogue.

"And then come home across the Plains and do the Mormons as we return?" added Artemus, interrogatively.

I paused before giving a reply. It came to my remembrance that Artemus had written " A Visit to Brigham Young" in a volume already published, in which imaginary sketch he had characterized the Mormons as an onprincipled a set of retchis as ever drew Breth in eny spot on the globe."* Visions

*"Artemus Ward, His Book," p. 77.

flitted before me of our possible fate in a city the inhabitants of which had been so abused by one of the intending travellers. The insecurity of human life at Salt Lake had been a frequent topic for newspaper paragraphs, and I had heard of an unprepossessing body of men in that vicinity designated as The Destroying Angels. As delicately as I could, I hinted to Artemus the perils of the enterprise. He affected to despise all danger, and treated my warnings as lightly as Don Quixote did those of Sancho Panza, relative to the windmills of Montiel. That Artemus himself had some misgivings afterwards, if not then, is avowed by him in the chapter on Salt Lake City in the present book. No matter how the Mormons might receive us, it was decided to go; and we went.

For the information of English readers who are not familiar with the geography of the North American Continent, especially with that part of it in which the Salt Lake is situated, I venture to say a few words about the means of getting to the Mormon capital, and its situation, with especial reference to the route passed over by Artemus Ward and myself. Information relative to Utah is not very plentiful, and the books on that territory are by no means numerous. The best work I have met with is that of M. Jules Remy,* and the next best"The City of the Saints," by Captain Richard F. Burton, but both of them are descriptive of the Utah of full five years ago; aud, while that of Captain

* "Voyage au Pays des Mormons." Paris, 1860.

Burton depicts the rosy side of Mormondom, that of M. Remy is, perhaps, written with a too condemnatory pen. It is extremely difficult, even by visiting the territory, to learn much concerning it and its inhabitants. The physical features admit of easy description, but its social life, the mighty influences which are at work for good or evil, the curious problems which are solving themselves among a singular people, the exact nature of that strange plastic power which, taking unto itself the form of a religion, is rapidly building up a community unlike any other on the globe, are all points in relation to the Mormons very little understood, and which they themselves do not wish made clear to us, whom they stigmatize as "Gentiles."

You can go to Salt Lake by crossing the Isthmus of Panama, or by being ferried across the Missouri river. In proceeding by the former route you have to brave the dangers of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and in going by the latter you have to encounter the perils of the Plains, including very ugly mountains and very loose-minded Indians. The track of travel pursued by Artemus Ward and myself was simply this: We left New York by steamer, crossed the Isthmus of Panama by railway, steamed up the Pacific to San Francisco, then went by steamboat again to Sacramento, then by railroad to Folsom, and next by coach to Placerville, where we changed our conveyance for what they please to call a "stage" in California, but which, in England, we should

describe as a spring-van, seated, with a covered top to it, and canvas or leather blinds on each side-a form of conveyance common enough in the States and in Australia, but altogether unknown, I believe, in the British Isles. In a hideous apparatus of this description we jolted on night and day for six hundred and thirty miles from Placerville to Salt Lake City. Occasionally we obtained relief by being transferred from the coach, as they would facetiously persist in calling it, to a sleigh, formed of rough pine wood, like a very broad French egg-box, far too shallow, with no cover, placed on huge "runners," and drawn over the ice by four gaunt maniacal mules, driven by a jovial Jehu, who regarded a capsize as the most ordinary of every-day events, and a roll down a mountain side as the most exhilarating pastime in the world. Six hundred more miles of similar coach and sleigh brought us from Salt Lake to Denver City in Colorado, and a third six-hundred-mile ride took us across the plains, through camps of Sioux Indians, past herds of buffaloes, and past subterranean cities, excavated and inhabited by prairie dogs, to Atchison, on the Missouri River; whence we crossed the State of Missouri by railway to St. Louis, on the Mississippi, and then through Illinois, Michigan, Upper Canada, and New York State, home again to New York; in all, a journey of over 10,000 miles, of which about 7000 was by water transit, and about 3000 overland. To those who, seeking pleasure, contemplate doing the land route in winter, as we did it, I would give

the same advice that I think Artemus would, and say-don't.

There is nothing that Artemus Ward has said about the steamer Ariel, in his first chapter of this book, which would not be heartily endorsed by nearly all who have voyaged in the vessels belonging to Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt. The Panama railway he scarcely attempts to describe; though a railway less than fifty miles in length, which you are charged five pounds sterling for travelling over, is certainly expensive enough to merit a few passing remarks. On the Pacific side, the steamers are all that is desirable : they are palatial in their structure, well officered, well supplied, and well conducted. I have travelled by them more than once, and know nothing more agreeable than to lounge on the "hurricane deck" of the Golden City, or the Constitution, and placidly steam along past the green shores of coffee-yielding Costa Rica, the bold, rocky coast of Mexico, the arid grandeur of Cape St. Lucas, and the mountains covered with wild oats, which form the majestic sea-wall of California. In two weeks from leaving Panama you float through the Golden Gate and land at San Francisco.

Artemus has been very modest in his book, and omitted to say a word in reference to his success in the metropolis of California. Here in England, where the days of lecturing seem to have passed away with the decadence of the Mechanics' Institute, it may surprise many to learn that at his first lecture at San