permitted; and where, I repeat, would he not be? The Latter-Day Saints declare that if their first Presidency and Twelve Apostles—of whom some, by-the-by, are poor—grow rich, it is by due benevolence, not by force or fraud. Much like the primitive college, and most unlike their successors in this modern day, each apostle must have some craft, and all live by handiwork, either in house, shop, or field, no drones being allowed in the social hive. The tithes are devoted in part to Church works, especially to "building up temples or otherwise beautifying and adorning Zion, as they may be directed from on high," and in part to the prosperity of the body politic, temporal, and spiritual; by aiding faithful and needy emigrants, and by supporting old and needy Saints. Perhaps the only true charge brought by the Gentiles against this, and, indeed, against all the public funds in the Mormon City, is, that a large portion finds its way eastward, and is expended in "outside influence," or, to speak plain English, bribes. It is believed by Mormons as well as Gentiles that Mr. Brigham Young has in the States newspaper spies and influential political friends, who are attached to him not only by the ties of business and the natural respect felt for a wealthy man, but by the strong bond of a regular stipend. And such is their reliance upon this political dodgery—which, if it really exists, is by no means honorable to the public morality of the Gentiles—that they deride the idea of a combined movement from Washington ever being made against them. In 1860 Governor Cumming proposed to tax the tithing fund; but the Saints replied that, as property is first taxed and then tithed, by such proceeding it would be twice taxed.
"This people"—a term reiterated at Great Salt Lake City usque ad nauseam—declares its belief "in being subject to kings, queen, presidents, rulers, and magistrates; in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law." They are not backward in open acts of loyalty—I beg America's pardon—of adhesion to the Union, such as supplying stones for the Washington Monument and soldiers for the Mexican War. But they make scant pretension of patriotism. They regard the States pretty much as the States regarded England after the War of Independence, and hate them as the Mexican Criollo does the Gachupin—very much also for the same reason. Theirs is a deep and abiding resentment, which time will strengthen, not efface: the deeds of Missouri and Illinois will bear fruit for many and many a generation. The federal government, they say, has, so far from protecting their lives and property, left them to be burned out and driven away by the hands of a mob, far more cruel than the "red-coated minions" of poor King George; that Generals Harney and Johnston were only seeking the opportunity to act Burgoyne and Cornwallis. But, more galling still to human nature, whether of saint or sinner, they are despised, "treated, in fact, as nobodies"—and that last of insults who can bear? Their petitions to become a sovereign state have been
