San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-02-06

NsssS11>NS
Brent caught him by the collar and gaze
him shake.
rison. Presently Brent's quick eye caught
some white spots far away on the slope
of the prairie, like sails on the edge of a
dreamy, sunny sea.
"Look!" said he, "there comes Salt
Lake immigration train"
eyes, said Mormon of the garrison,
"that's Elder Sizzum's train. Their fore
runner came in this morning to choose
the camping spot. There they be! two
hundred OK teams, thousand saints,
bound for the Promised Land" ..
He walked off to announce the arrival,
whistling, Jordan is hard road to
travel"
knew of Sizzum as the most seductive
orator and foreign propagandist of Nor
monism. He had been in England some
time, very successful at the good work.
The caravans we had already met were
of his proselytes. He himself was CON-
den. We rode them rarely. Only often
enough to remind them how saddle
feels, and that dangling legs are not
frightful. They must be fresh, if we
should ever have to run for it. We
might. Indians might cast fanciful
glances at the tops of our heads. The
other horses might give out. So Pumps,
with his fantastic dancing step that
would not crush a grasshopper, and
Fulano, grander, prouder, and still I'M
tamable to any one but me, went on
waiting for their time of action.
skip the first thousand miles of our
journey. Not that it was not exciting,
but it might be anybody's journey,
Myriads have made it. 1t is an old
story.
Twill not even delay to describe Utah,
not even for its watermelons' sake,
though that tricolor dainty greatly glad
dened our dry jaws, as we followed the
valley from Box Elder, the northern
most settlement, to the city of the great
Salt Lake.
In few days of repose we had eS-
hausted Mormon civilization and, horses
and men fresh and in brave heart, we
rode out of the modern Mecca one glori-
GUS day of early October through the
bare defiles of the Wasatch mountains,
wall of Utah on the east. We passed
Echo canyon and the other straight gates
and rough ways through which the Lat
ter-day Saints win an entrance to their
Zion.
We met them in throngs, hard at work
at such winning. The summer emigra-
ton of Mormons was beginning to come
in. No one would have admitted their
claim to saintship from their appearance.
If they had no better passport than their
garb, "Avaunti Procul este profanil"
would have cried any trustworthy JAM
tor of Zion. Saints, if know them, are
clean-are not ragged, are not even
patched. Their garments renew them
selves, shed rain like macintosh, repel
dust, sweeten unsavoriness. These sham
saints needed unlimited scouring-per-
sons and raiment. We passed them,
when we could, to windward. Poor
creatureSl we shall see more of their kim
bred anon.
We fastened on, for our way was long
and autumn's hospitable days were few.
Just at the foot of those bare, bulky
mounds of mountain by which the Wa,
satch range tones off into the great
plains between it and the Rockies, we
overlook the Salt Lake mail party going
eastward. They were travelling eight or
ten men strong, with four mule wagon,
and several horses and mules driven be-
side for relays.
eff Jake chamberlain is the captain of
the party" said Brent, when we caught
sight of them upon the open, "we'n
join them"
"Who is Jake chamberlain"
"Ahappy-go-lucky fellow whom Ihave
met and recognized all over the world.
He has been London policeman. He
was pulling stroke oar in the captains
gig that took me ashore from dinner
on board the FREELY, British steamer, at
the Pir@us. He has been a lay brother
in Carthusian convent. He married a
pretty girl in Boston once, went off on
mackerel trip aad when he came back