Utah

Utah

:\ MISS LETHE COLEMAN, OF HEBER, WASATCH STAKE, UTAH

Strange as it may seem, the history of Utah antedates the settlement of Jamestown and the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. Indeed, the finding of this mountain region began only fifty years after the discovery of America. It happened in the days when Spain was at the height of her glory, long before the Spanish

had been humbled by the defeat of the invincible Armada.

You are all familiar with the brilliant exploits of cruel, merci- less Cortez, whose avaricious demands for wealth are bj.it typ- ical of the Spaniard of the time. After robbing the Aztecs of Mexico of their gold and jewels, these insatiable Spanish conquer- ors cast their eyes on more dis- tant points for wealth to fill their depleted coffers. Imagine, then, with what avidity these wealth- seeking, gold-hnnting bankrupts listened to Tejos, a Spanish slave, who told them of wealth unbounded far to the north. Later, when De Yaca confirmed the story of Tejos. and told defi- nitely of the famed "Seven Cities of Cibola," where the doors and windows were framed with gold and precious stones, the Spaniards were moved to action. With waving plumes, flashing swords, and glittering armor, Coronado, at the head of three hundred knights, marched forth to conquer new kingdoms of gold and other treasure.. Cardenas, with a small detachment of this pompous band, chased the golden mirage of the western desert into the wilds of these lonely valleys. But they were doomed to return disheartened and discouraged, with the hopeless tale, no gold. These teeming mountains were not yet ready to give forth their treasure; it remained for those who

LETHE COLEMAN

♦Delivered at the M. I. A. oratorical contest, June 7, 1913.

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in future years should delve into their dark recesses to bring it

forth.

These first Europeans to put foot upon the soil of future Utah saw only a barren waste where the smoke of the Indian wigwam curled upward to the sky.

This was three hundred seventy-one years ago, within a gen- eration after Columbus sailed on his quest for the wealth of the Indies.

A Tore than two centuries later, in the very year that Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, Father Escalante, after weeks of struggle and hardship, came through the mountain passes, and was the first white man to look into the waters of Utah lake. Though failing in the ohject of his adventure, the finding of a shorter route from Santa Fe to California, he was nevertheless amply compensated by the joy he felt when he viewed the grandeur that lay before him ; these majestic rivers flowing onward to the sea, these rocks and snow-capped summits holding converse with the clouds. And with almost prophetic instinct, he pointed out the possibilities of these plateaus and valleys as a future home of civilization.

By this time, the Spanish glory had been eclipsed by the rise of the English sun. Drake, Frobisher and Howard had driven the Spanish galleons from the sea. Thirteen English colonies in America had risen to such importance and influence that they had thrown off the oppressive yoke of the mother country, and entered upon a period of westward expansion, the like of which the world had never known.

In 1840 the American frontier stood at the bend of the Mis- souri river. There the pioneer had halted his march to the west- ward, for before him stretched the great American desert, before him sulked the savage with tomahawk and knife. Though the westward movement of the settler and colonizer was impeded, not so that of the hunter and trapper, who had forced his way across the trackless desert, and braved the dangerous foe. First among these was that famous scout, James Bridger, to whom is credited the discovery of the Great Salt Lake. Unlike Escalante. he looked upon these plains as a howling wilderness, a place to set traps, a place to get furs and skins. So sure was he that these val- leys never could become fruitful that he offered one thousand dol- lars for the first bushel of corn grown here. Then came Bonne- ville, the dreamer, the romancer, who left only his name for the ancient lake.

Ten years later, John C. Fremont, following the emigrant trail through South Pass, reached the Great Salt Lake. Fearfully he pushed his frail boat through the briny waters to Antelope Island, startling myriads of wild fowl that beat the air and made noises like distant thunder.

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The Rocky Mountain Fur Company put hunters and trap- pers on every stream and river fed by the Wasatch range. An interesting member of this band of bold and rugged scouts was Peter Skeen Ogdcn, for whom Ogden City was named. Cache Valley, too, received its title from his habit of caching furs and skins there. And a young Frenchman named Provost explored our own dear Provo Valley and the river that hurries through its canyon to the lake.

Following the trail of the hunter and trapper came families seeking homes, not in these desert wastes, but in the verdant val- leys of the Columbia. Thus the hunter, the explorer, the emigrant came and went, but they left no town nor hamlet to mark the scenes of their activities. They left only a few bleaching bones to mingle forever with the crumbling rock and the moulding sod over which the moaning pines and sighing breezes sang requiems.

When all these had come and gone the region was still iso- lated from civilization, seemingly "a vast, worthless area, a region of whirlwind and dust, of cactus and of prairie dog," only a stretch of barrenness where "crept the panting lizard, chirped the cricket and crawled the rattlesnake."

Barren as it was and uninviting, this western land was soon to be the home of a band of men and women exiled for their religion. On the banks of the Missouri even now had gathered this hardy, hopeful brotherhood, who were soon to look upon these western wilds as a happy retreat from persecution. Busily they are getting together ox teams and wagons, tools and provisions for the toilsome journey. But a few days and the fond farewells have been whispered, the parting kiss has been given, the sorrow- ful tear been shed, and the fervent "God bless you" spoken; and hopefully, prayerfully on. on to the westward. Each morn and eve, at the sound of the bugle call, they bow in solemn supplica- tion to their God. Each day over burning sands and trackless wastes the cumbrous ox team wends its way. Slowly it crosses the great western prairie, slower it climbs to the summit of the western hills. Clearing their way through dense and gnarled timber, the party pass through defiles and over mountains, and finally cross the rugged spurs that bring them to Emigration canyon.

Here the weary travelers halt, lift their tired heads, and gaze with tear-dimmed eyes over the mountains into the west — a lonely west, with its lake's blue waters splashing and flashing in the sun- light.

The leader raises his hand and points over this mystic scene. His voice rings out in all its majesty: "This is the place." A hopeful, peaceful look illumines each expectant face. The desert wakes ! One hundred forty-three glad voices ring out in praise to God for the hope of a future home. The stars and stripes are

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unfurled on the mountains, and the land is proclaimed "Our Deseret."

And then began a rapid immigration across the path but new- ly marked. Other companies followed with ox teams and still oth- ers fared along the the weary way with handcarts. Need their story be repeated? Who does not know of their hard and bitter struggles ? Who has not heard of the mothers who were too weak to travel longer, and lay down in their eternal rest, of the little babes left crying for the need of a mother's care, of the aged fath- ers who had pulled and worked in hard places until their strength was done, and who were left in wayside graves. Who does not know of the hard and bitter struggle with the Indians? Who does not know of the dark and gloomy days that followed when the crickets covered all the land and threatened destruction to the crops, and of gulls that came to avert the imminent starvation? These and a thousand other well-known happenings were neces- sary steps in the redeeming of the wilderness, ere Utah could throw off her desolation and burst into glorious bloom.

So men have died and men have lived in the making of this our home. Oh, but they builded better than they knew ! Could any discoverer have imagined this verdant spread of field and garden? Could any explorer have dreamed the wealth of mine and manufacture ? Did any seer foresee the wondrous growth in architecture, in art, in music, in everything that brings blessings to the home, prosperity to the commonwealth, and joy to the heart of man?

Oh, Utah, our mountain home, we love thee ! The song birds call, the insects hum, the ripple of thy meandering rills, are music to our ears. Thy rugged snow-capped peaks, thy flowery mountain dells, thy canyon scenes to us are ever dear. We love thy sego flower — soul emblem of thy hope, thy white- winged gull, thy songs, thy schools, thy laws !

Be it ours then ever to sing thy praise, ever to appreciate thy worth. Be it ours to honor thy laws, to uphold thy institutions, to sustain thy government.

Let the mountains shout for joy, let the valleys ring, let the hills rejoice, let them all break forth in song; let them shout and sing and be glad before the Lord, and let us not fail ever to invoke God's richest gift for thy welfare. Utah, Utah, we love thee!