I realize to what an awful extent until I left fair Utah and her noble workers to come into this cold world. The man who can bribe the lawyer, the judge, the juryman, etc., is the one who prospers. But let him be careful and pause before he goes too far. He can never bribe the God of heaven and earth when he comes for judgment before His throne. The world is full of people who could stand up and face danger in a bodily form. They would perhaps fight for their country. They would make martyrs of themselves for influence, but how few there are who can stand up and say they are not moral cowards! They dare not assert right. They dare not sustain their own convictions of right lest the finger of scorn be pointed at them. I feel as though some time God must surely make Himself known and make man his own accuser. Would that our young folks at home could all see where they stand and guard themselves more carefully. Would that it could be branded in words of fire before their eyes, "Beware of Babylon, the great; partake not of her sins and vices lest ye fall. Great are her abominations before the Lord, and you cannot be in her midst lest her influence cling to your garments."

Ella, you must think that I am growing radical; but how blinded were my eyes and how dull my senses before such revelations met my view. To go out on the street the crowds of

and see

negroes, from the color of charcoal to white, is alone enough to make the heart sick. I gaze on them and wonder how can God contain His wrath. I wonder He hasn't long ago taken judgment in His hands. Then the words came to me, "Judge not that ye be not judged," etc.

I would not part with the experience I am gaining for anything in this world. I am more proud every day of my people, and when persons ask, "Are you a Mormon?" the proudest moments I can live are while I answer, "I am." Our missionaries are heroes, and God will not forget His people unless they forget Him. I feel that my lips cannot utter praises enough to God for my happy lot in being numbered with His people. You may begin to think that I can see no good in Babylon. Not so; everyone will receive his reward for the good he does.

How is the Y. L. M. I. A. prospering? Give my love to all the members, and though I am separated from them they are never forgotten by me. I remember every one from Sister Grõesbeck down.

tanooga are very interesting to me. Of course you know this is one of the old battlefields of the south. I have taken several trips since my arrival. Look Out Mountain is directly south of my window, with the Tennessee River at its base. I can also see Missionary Ridge, some large factories, fine houses, and the never to be forgotten negro huts. At present the Tennessee River looks almost like a lake, as out on the flats below me I can just see the tops of trees peeping out of the water and several houses that look like boats. I went down to the river bridge a few days ago and saw one house almost submerged, and a large farm entirely covered, with just the roof of the house on it in view. Huge trees and chicken coops, dog kennels, etc., etc., go down the river like chips. The whole surface of the water is sometimes covered with drift wood, corn stalks, etc. The water has come within two hundred yards of us, but can't reach us unless it rises up, because we are on a hill. The rainy season has come, and how it pours in a perfect torrent from morning till night! If the river should rise much more it would flow into the business part of town and do much damage. As it now is, the poor are the ones who are suffering. Ella, we don't know what poverty is in Salt Lake City. I have seen children here in the cold weather without a thing on their bodies except a little thin dress, and that in tatters. And the

negroes! Words cannot convey to you the sights they present. The character of Topsy was never exaggerated. I have seen worse looking pictures than she ever presented. A negro man was lynched here last week for committing an outrage on a white woman. He was drawn up on the river bridge and his body shot full of holes. It is sufficient to say I was not one of the spectators. Enough of the negro at present.

I will tell you of some of my trips. I went up on Look Out Mountain. This is the highest mountain here, and it is the place where the Battle Above the Clouds was fought. On a clear day from this point a person can see into seven States, which is quite a novelty. At the western base of Mount Look Out lies the little town of St. Elmo, named for the book written by Augusta J. Evans. The blacksmith shop still stands there as described in

the story. About fifty yards, and directly opposite our house here, stands the beautiful home of General Chamberlain, which has been built on the site of Fort Sherinda. I went over to Missionary Ridge and saw the little ravine where Sheridan and his men mounted the ridge on foot, in the face of cannon, etc., and routed the rebels. Sheridan rode his steed to the base, and from there led his forces on foot. General Grant's headquarters I have not yet visited, although it is a short distance from here. I

went to the National Cemetery. It is very nice. Over the stone arch of the gate are these words, "Here rest in peace 12,956 soldiers who died for their country from 1863 to 1865."

On

Inside the gardens and walks are beautifully laid out in the grandeur of Southern vegetation and arrangement. The wall which surrounds it is entirely covered with English ivy, and you may imagine how lovely it is. some of the stones is a number only, which marks the resting place of the soldier. As I stood and gazed I wondered how many women's hearts were wrung with sorrow for lost ones they knew nothing of, or whose lives had been sacrificed they knew not where. I saw the grave of one woman in their midst. Who knows what impulse led her to join her fate with theirs? It would take a long time to describe the deeds recorded there.

We, George and I, were photographed in the cemetery, with L. R. Wells, T. W. Sloan, Charles Margetts, George S. McAllister, J. W. Walker, R. M. Wright, Wm. Patrick and John Nicholson, Jr., when they were here previous to leaving for their fields of labor.

We have one hundred and fifteen men in the field, which requires no small amount of office work to meet their requests, queries, and wants. George has assigned me the mail order department, mailing tracts, books, etc., the book-keeping, and permits me to write the releases. I

have one little task that will last

I

one year, from present indications. It is to read and check all the correspondence sent to this office since 1880. You can well imagine the work attached. work on this when the other is done. I don't have much time to be idle, but I can never do too much work for the Lord. I sometimes wonder how my little efforts at home were met. I know that I was young and inexperienced, and no doubt did many things out of order, but it was the fault of the head and not the heart.

Ella, to me you have been one of the greatest helps of my life. Your patient, uncomplaining life. was a pattern always before my eyes, and many the time when I was downhearted I would say to myself, "Think of patient Ella," and it helped me SO much. I value your frendship more than you will ever know, and I hope that I may never forfeit or lose it.

Write and tell me about all you know would interest me.

We are working hard on our spring emigration, which leaves on March 21st. There are so many poor among the Saints that it is rather up-hill work for a great many to get ready to leave. When they get attached to Our Elders they would lay down their lives for them. Word seems to have been circulated among the papers that two Mormon Elders were killed in Lewis County, Tenn., but as we have none there it must be a mistake.

I have omitted a description of my journey here as it would, no doubt, be a repetition of what you have heard before. I will just say I appreciated it very much, and on my way visited Denver, Kansas City, and Independence. I did not care to stay in any place long until I got here. I shall never forget my first view of the cottonfields and negroes.

Again I send love to Ella, Vickie, Mrs. Groesbeck, Florence, Laura, Lottie, and every member of the Y. L. M. I. A., and my prayers for their prosperity. George joins me in sending best wishes to you, May, and your father and mother.

Praying God to bless you and permit us to again meet here on earth, I remain your loving friend, Lucy W. Smith.

THORBORG.

(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 254.)

NEXT morning Mr. Landsho was in a high state of indignation over something he had read in the Morning Post, and thundered loose about the rascally Mormons the moment Thorborg came in, as if she could help it. She was almost as scandalized as her father at the rate the dreadful people were carrying on under their very noses. Emil came in presently and listened without comment to the article, which was being read a third time.

"Isn't it shameful?" demanded Thorborg.

an

Now, regarding this newspaper article it was of course a malicious misrepresentation of what the Mormons had been doing, and it created the greatest stir among the people. It called forth much hatred over the heads of innocent people, who asked no more of the world than to be left in peace. A few there were who went to their meetings to see for themselves, and many of them came away convinced of the truth of the despised Mormon religion. But far more came with a fixed determination to be blind to any good quality the Mormons might possess, and they went away with hearts overflowing with bitterness. Among the latter was the curate. He went one evening to the meeting of the Saints, and asked permission, after the meeting, to unveil the humbug called Mormonism and to prove from the Bible that it was nothing but falsehoods from top to bottom. Brother Ibsen gave him as much time to prove that in as he desired, provided he would keep to the Bible. Well,

the curate soon found that the Bible itself turned against him. What he would bring up against them from the Holy Book actually was in their favor, and he stood there stammering and looking rather foolish. Then he took refuge in slander, and dished up story after story of what he had heard about them. Brother Ibsen finally told him that he had departed from the agreement, and the people could now dispense with his services for the night. There was a good deal of hooting and laughing at the curate's expense as he left the room, and he swore in his wrath that henceforth he and the Mormons were enemies.

This article in the Morning Post was the outcome of his wounded pride, and was only the first one of a series of blood-curdling tales about the doings of the poor, friendless people.

Mrs. Heidelberg's three pretty daughters carried tea around to the guests, and Thorborg sat sipping hers from a pair of dainty cups, gently bantering young, awkward Stephenson, which she eivdently enjoyed more than the tea, when one of the Misses Heidelberg came and whispered confidentially:

"We have got an attraction or oddity tonight, whichever you wish; he's a distant relation of mother's, a second or third cousin, and we girls insisted on having him merely for the fun of

it. It's a Mormon missionary, fresh from Utah, one of Brigham

Young's favorites, I've heard." She did not stop to note the effect of this bit of novelty, but proceeded onward to notify others of the surprise in store for them in the shape of a real live Mormon, "fresh from Utah." But Thorborg's eyes wandered in search of the young man, whom she understood was was invited merely for the sport of the thing. She found him talking earnestly with an elderly gentleman, who seemed very much interested, and a feeling not unlike pity stole into her heart for the noble-looking young stranger, who, so it seemed to her, stood erect and unconcerned here among a band of conspirators against him. In her thoughts she associated him with Paul, fearless and strong as he; but the next moment she blushed for being carried away like that by the looks of a despicable Mormon. Yet, there was nothing despicable about him, as she could see. His eyes met hers; he bowed, and a few moments later came over to her. Without the least embarrassment he began in a frank, winning way to tell her how he hoped she would remember her old playmate; and might he still hope that she had not forgotten him entirely. Thorborg felt at home with him. at once, and they soon brought up little incidents from their childhood days of mutual interest, much to the astonishment of Stephensen, who secretly envied him his easy, graceful manners.

"The dickens take the young