picture of life, whose stream is pure and sweet until sin enters it and vitiates its current.  Miles beyond are snow sheds, and the famous Tennessee Pass, 10,440 feet above the sea level.  This is the great watershed of the Rocky Mountains, and two drops of water from a cloud falling here,—­the one on the one side and the other on the other side of the Pass,—­are separated forever.  One runs to the Atlantic Ocean through rivers to the Gulf of Mexico, and the other to the Pacific Ocean.  So there is the parting of the ways in human experience.  There are the two ways, and the little turns of life determine your eternal destiny!

Even after a night of travel through the mountains and across the Colorado Desert, we still, in the morning, find our train speeding on amid imposing hills, but now we are in Utah.  This we entered at Utah Line.  At length we cross the Pass of the Wahsatch Mountains at Soldier Summit, 7,465 feet above the sea, and some thirty miles farther west we enter the picturesque Utah Valley.  At length we see the stream of the River Jordan, which is the connecting link between Utah Lake and the Great Salt Lake, and at last we find ourselves in the city founded by Brigham Young and his pioneer followers in 1847.  There is a monument of the Mormon prophet in Salt Lake City, commemorating this founding.  Standing on the hill above the present city and looking out on the great valley, with his left hand uplifted, he said:  “Here we will found an empire!” And here to-day in this city, which bears his marks everywhere, is a population of 54,000 souls, two-thirds of whom profess the Mormon faith.

Here we were met by Bishop Abiel Leonard, D.D., of Salt Lake, who was a most gracious host and who welcomed us with all the warmth of his heart.  He had engaged accommodations for us at the Cullen House; and when I went to my room, I looked out on a courtyard bounded on one side by the rear end of a long block of stores.  There I saw a wagon which had just been driven into the grounds.  Two men were on the seat, the driver and another person, and seated on the floor of the wagon, with their backs toward me, were four women.  They wore no hats, as the day was balmy, and I noticed that one had flaxen, another brown, and the two others dark hair.  Seeing everything here with a Mormon colouring, I said, “This is a Mormon family.  The Mormon farmer has come to town to give his four wives a holiday.”  It reminded me of similar groups which I had seen in old Cairo, on Fridays, when the Mohammedan went with his wives in the donkey cart to the Mosque.  And is there not a strong resemblance between Mormon and Mohammedan?  The Mormon husband alighted and gently and affectionately took up one of his wives and carried her into the adjoining store, then a second, and a third.  My interest deepened as I watched the proceeding.  I said to myself—­“How devoted these Mormon husbands, if this is a true example, and how trusting the women!” When he took up