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 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, 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 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 look 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 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 brine in one's nose and throat is
dangerous, as it easily causes strangulation, particularly if the
person is at all nervous. 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 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 bag full has been
eaten, heads begin to wobble, and soon there 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 a few water-color 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 Oquirah Mountains in a world of glorious yellow
and orange, and as twilight comes on, 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
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 sleeping room; all the sitting rooms
were on one side, opening out upon the one veranda, and the bedrooms
were on the other side and opened out upon the other veranda. 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. These mormon women must be simply
idiotic, or have their tempers under good control!
It was all most 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, 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, Antelope Island, and a number of the wonderful Black Rock that
is out in the lake opposite the Brigham Young house.
About two miles from the city, and upon the side of the Wasatch
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 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 Faye I could
never have stayed in the ambulance.
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