were mounted in all the tawdriness of Western trappings—Rocky Mountain hats, tall and broad, or steeple-crowned felts, covering their scalp-locks, embroidered buckskin garments, huge leggins, with caterpillar or millepede fringes, red or rainbow-colored flannel shirts, gigantic spurs, bright-hilted pistols, and queer-sheathed knives stuck in red sashes with gracefully depending ends. The jeunesse dorée of the Valley Tan was easily distinguished from imported goods by the perfect ease with which they sat and managed their animals. Around me were all manner of familiar faces—heavy English mechanics, discharged soldiers, clerks, and agricultural laborers, a few German students, farmers, husbandmen, and peasants from Scandinavia and Switzerland, and correspondents and editors, bishops, apostles, and other dignitaries from the Eastern States. When the train reached the public square—at Great Salt Lake City the "squares" are hollow as in England, not solid as in the States—of the 8th ward, the wagons were ranged in line for the final ceremony. Before the invasion of the army the First President made a point of honoring the entrance of hand-cart trains (but these only) by a greeting in person. Of late he seldom leaves his house except for the Tabernacle: when inclined for a picnic, the day and the hour are kept secret. It is said that Mr. Brigham Young, despite his powerful will and high moral courage, does not show the remarkable personal intrepidity of Mr. Joseph Smith: his followers deny this, but it rests on the best and fairest Gentile evidence. He has guards at his gates, and he never appears in public unattended by friends and followers, who are of course armed. That such a mental anomaly often exists, those familiar with the biographies of the Brahmin officials at the courts of Poonah, Sattara, and other places in India, well know: many a "Pant," whose reckless audacity in intrigue conducted under imminent danger of life argued the courage of a Coeur de Lion, was personally fearful as Hobbes, and displayed at the death the terrors of Robespierre. A moment of fear is recounted of St. Peter; Erasmus was not the stuff of which martyrs are made, and even the beau sabreur once ran. However, in the case of the Prophet there is an absolute necessity for precautions: as Gentiles have themselves owned to me, many a ruffian, if he found an opportunity, would, from pure love of notoriety, even without stronger incentive, try his revolver or his bowie-knife upon the "Big Mormon."
On this occasion the place of Mr. Brigham Young was taken by President Bishop Hunter, a Pennsylvanian, whom even the most fanatic and intentionally evil-speaking anti-Mormon must regard with respect. Preceded by a brass band—"this people" delight in
"Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds"—
and accompanied by the City Marshal, he stood up in his conveyance, and, calling up the Captains of Companies, shook hands with
