We sent him a note of acknowledgment, which we felt to be but a feeble expression of our gratitude, and, as “all seemed to work together for our good,” we left Utah with a benediction in our hearts and a silent but no less earnest prayer on our lips, and turned toward the setting sun.

CHAPTER XXVII.

    “The quality of mercy is not strained;
    It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven
    Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed,
    It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 
    ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes
    The throned monarch better than his crown.”

Leaving Ogden we followed the line of the Central Pacific Railroad, making no stops until we reached Elko, Nevada.  It was the county seat of Elko county, and, although at that time a place of comparatively small size and population, it had an air of business activity known only to localities alive with the excitement of railroad traffic.  The mammoth depot and freight-house gave it an air of importance; the pine trade, then so active, and the busy stage-line to the neighboring, warm, mineral springs and mines of purest silver, imparted to it an additional business activity.

We were delightfully entertained by Mr. Treet, the gentlemanly proprietor of the Railroad House, and were presented by him with a letter of introduction to Mrs. Van Every, of Sacramento.  Thus did so many kind hands smooth down the inequalities incident to a life of travel, and pleasantly pave the way to so many warm friendships.

On arriving at Sacramento on August 5th, a day of intense, almost stifling heat, we went at once to Mrs. Van Every, who kept the most elegant boarding house in the city, whose spacious apartments seemed filled with the breath of Paradise, which added a grateful welcome to our travel-tired bodies.  Mrs. Van Every’s mien of pure and native dignity, her voice of silvery sweetness, gave the charm of a welcome and ease to her greeting; and without delay we presented our letter, which was the “open sesame” to her heart.

We were at once assigned to a nice, clean and even luxurious apartment, and after some real rest and quiet we sauntered out, as usual seeking the most prominent editors, and found two, both of whom did us full justice in the way of editorial notices of our presence and mission.

One day, almost at the close of a two weeks’ canvassing tour, we entered the office of the Honorable N. Green Curtis, who, at the first glance, declined to give us his patronage, but after a short conversation, in which he learned that I was a native of Baltimore,

    “A moment o’er his face
    The tablet of unutterable thought was traced,
    And then, it faded as it came,”

he instantly arose, and, as if impelled by some new and life-giving impulse, he took from my hand a book, and left in its stead a five dollar bill, saying in hurried words, I never refused to assist a Southerner.