chised me, let me in return say a few words to you. Walter has lately grown cold and distant in his bearing towards me, for no perceptible reason whatever, for we had formerly been on the best of terms. At first it caused me to wonder, but I finally arrived at the conclusion that he is jealous of my attentions to you. In fact he has upon several occasions asked me questions concerning you and me, which I did not feel called upon to answer, but one day when he had in this wise been particularly aggravating, I in a fit of anger told him of all that had passed between us. What you have said to-day, reveals to me the fact that he has been poisoning your mind against me. Lucile Beach, I demand in the name of all that is good what my cousin has been telling you?'

Have

"Releasing my wrist, which was bruised where his fingers had held it, I said, 'Demand nothing in the name of what is good, for you can in no way be connected with it. You shall know what I heard from Walter.' Then I poured forth everything Walter had told me, finishing with the words, 'And now do you wonder that I wish nothing to do with you? Would any girl link her fate with that of a man of such degraded habits as yours? You are silent. you no word for yourself-no defense?' "During my recital his face had turned perfectly white, and when I finished he said, 'Good God, Lucile, do you believe all this?' 'I have no reason to do otherwise,' I replied, 'You do not defend yourself.' 'Listen to me,' he said, 'What you have heard is false, and the invention of one who is consumed with jealousy. Remember what has passed between us, how I love you, then believe which one you choose to, your lover or a jealous rival-a so-called friend.' I looked in his eyes, which met mine unflinchingly; I looked and wavered, and the next moment Walter's words were floating away like chaff before the wind, and my confidence was restored to Will once more. After an hours' explaining, assuring and reassuring, he departed, but not until I had given him my promise to shortly accompany him to a minister, become

his wife, and to depart with him imme. diately afterward, for Canada. The time was fixed, all arrangements made, that nothing should be wanting toward the successful carrying out of our plans. I was on the verge of an elopement. Alas, for the hot-headedness of youth! By the next day I had recovered my wonted cheerfulness, though I was rather more quiet than usual.

"One more night passed, then a day, toward the close of which I was more than ordinarily affectionate and obliging to those about me. I was picturing to myself the joy of spending most of my time in Will's company, and how, after staying in Canada for a while we should come back and be forgiven and received at home. I knew it would be useless to ask permission of my parents to marry him, on account of my extreme youth, therefore I resolved to take my fate into my own hands.

"Everything transpired that evening as usual. We dined at seven o'clock, retired to our rooms at ten, and in the course of half an hour everything was hushed. I sat by my window and waited. At twelve o'clock I was to be in the garden by the fountain, there to meet my lover, and thence to flee.

"I had dressed myself in a traveling suit and was fully prepared to depart, so nothing remained to be done but to watc'; the hands of the little clock on the table slowly move about the white face.

"It struck eleven, then half-past, and with a sigh I looked out into the garden below, and saw, by the light of the moon, the rose trees near the fountain, stir. I leaned out of my window, with my eyes fixed upon them, and presently saw a man step forth into the clear white light. I well knew who it was. A moment later, looking more closely, I thought I saw through the trees the form of another man, though of this I was not certain; the shadows often play tricks in the moonlight, so I did not give the subject a second thought.

"The time for my departure had arrived half an hour earlier than I expected it, and I was startled. The realization of the importance of the step I was about to

take came over me suddenly, and caused me to pause and reflect. Then my courage deserted me to such an extent that I was on the point of abandoning my daring purpose. But the next moment, recovering myself, I prepared for flight. I carefully approached my door, opened it softly, and cautiously found my way down the hall, down the stairs, to the side door and out into the warm spring night. It did not take me long to reach the fountain, and sink down out of breath on its stone edge.

"Will would see me, I thought, and come forth immediately. But such proved not to be the case. I sat there for some little time, and presently became impatient. Perhaps, seeing that he was too early he had departed for a while, and would return presently. Quieting myself with this thought, I still waited. I heard the bell of the village dlock strike twelve, then all was silent again, excepting the crickets and katydids that kept up a lively concert about me.

"The time crept slowly on. Each passing breeze startled me with the stir it made in the foliage, and caused me to magine I heard Will coming. I sat very quietly, hardly daring to breath, lest I should fail to catch the first sound of his approaching footsteps. Presently my position began to be painful. Alone in a large garden at night, in a nervous state of expectation, I became rather alarmed, yet kept on hoping that every moment would bring my tardy lover to me. But second by second, minute by minute, and at last hour by hour slipped by uneventfully. Still, I would not despair. How foolishly we hope when reason tells us that hope is dead!

At length the first breath of morning faintly stirred the tree tops, and the moon began to assume a pale glitter, and the stars to disappear one by one. A chill seized upon me and made me tremble. Though heart-sick, I tarried on, until a streak of glory across the gray sky heralded the approach of the sun. It was then that I abandoned hope, arose and crept into the house and into my room. "Carefully undressing, I lay down upon a bed from which I did not arise

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for several days. No one knew what was the matter with me. I was obliged to take innumerable doses of medicine, which of course were of no benefit to me, my trouble being the outcome of mental distress. During this time I heard nothing of Will, nor of Walter and dared not ask about them for fear of betraying myself, consequently was obliged to suppress my anxiety and impatience. But in time I was up and about. Then I often saw Walter as he called frequently, and although I was always somewhat embarrassed in his presence, and the thoughts of each one of us often dwelt upon the subject concerning which he had spoken so earnestly to me on that eventful evening, it was not alluded to.

"At last, I became so accustomed to seeing him that the pain which nis presence usually caused me, gradually disappeared, though I still cherished a little remembrance of past events.

"Two long years rolled around and found me at the end of them a wiser and

more practical girl. I had recovered my equanimity, and began once more to enjoy the company of my friends But I had been through a severe mental struggle before I arrived at this state of mind. The past events seemed like a dream to me; they had all transpired in such a short space of time. It happened just as Walter had said; time was healing my wounds.

"I shall never forget one afternoon when Walter called with a horse and phaeton for the purpose of taking me for a drive, and I accompanied him. It was a lovely day, bright and sunny, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, for he was a very entertaining companion. As we were driving homeward, amidst the farewell rays of the sinking sun, a silence fell over us. It happened that we were passing a spot where Will and I had often strolled together, and it brought back to me many happy and painful recollections.

"By that mysterious and silent communication of thought, that often establishes a connection between two minds, Walter now fathomed mine, and we both dwelt upon the same subject. For a while neither one of us uttered a word,

spoke.

"Lucile' he said, 'I have often wondered if I have seemed justified in your eyes, with regard to the course I pursued in speaking as I did to you concerning my cousin. I have often wondered whether my words, were ever believed by you. I cast my eyes down, then lifting them to his face said: 'Walter, we have not spoken upon this subject since the night you told me what you did about him. I believed you then, I believed you until he came to me, then love blinded reason. I do not know what to think now, but am only certain that something must have been wrong in his character, or he would not have left me, or broken a promise in the cowardly way that he did. Another thing that convinces me that you have dealt fairly with me is this: your actions have proven that no selfish motive could have prompted you to pursue such a course. But despite all that you did and said, Walter, had he not deserted me upon a night which I shall never forget, I would have been his wife now.' ‘That night was the one upon which you had decided for elopement.' I lowered my eyes again, and said almost inaudibly, 'You knew?' 'Yes, I almost expected something of the sort to happen. I realized that your youth and inexperience would make you more amenable to his influences that you would be if you were older, and shaped my actions accordingly. I expected that what I would tell you would be disregarded, but deter mined that you should not throw your self away on that worthless dog without an effort on my part to save you, knowing that if you once believed what I would say, you would turn from him in disgust. Several times I threatened to send a bullet through his brain if he would not keep away from you. Upon the night he had calculated to carry you off, he came home, and into my room, which I shared with him, at about eleven o'clock at night, changed his clothing and polished himself up generally. Knowing that his baggage had been checked and sent that night, and that he had given us to understand that he was going

picions were aroused, and I asked him where he was going. He said he intended to return to the city, in order to attend to some business affairs, and would probably remain there over night, but would be here in the morning that he might bid us all goodbye.

"Soon he completed his toilet and picked up his valise and hat, preparatory to departing. I told him that he could leave his valise at our house until tomorrow morning when he was to return, but he said that he would rather take it with him now. This more thoroughly aroused my suspicions, so as soon as I heard him close the front door I snatched my hat and followed him. He walked pretty fast and I was obliged to make an effort in order to keep him in sight, but at last he arrived at the low stone wall surrounding your garden, and paused, looked around carefully, and seeing no one, vaulted lightly over, and stole in the direction of the fountain. In a moment, I, too, was over the wall, following in his footsteps, and when we reached a clump of trees near by, I came face to face with him. He was greatly astonished and disconcerted, but managed to say in a fierce undertone. "So you have been dogging my footsteps, and playing spy upon me."

"Yes, that is precisely what I have been doing,' I replied, eyeing him steadily, 'I have stooped to do this for Lucile's protection.' 'You seem to take a great interest in that girl,' he sneered, 'you are always trying to throw obstacles between us. Perhaps jealousy prompts you.' 'I take just enough interest in her to prevent her from being taken from a pleasant home to share the life of a brute like you,' I said angrily; 'You are contemptible to endeavor to entice a girl of her age into marriage. And there is just this about it, you are not going to take her away with you to-night.' 'How do you know I have such intentions?' he said, 'has not a man the privilege of haunting the spots about the home of his lady love without laying himself liable to the accusation of the intention of abducting her?' 'You coward!' I said,

The

That many remarkable men have been raised up in this dispensation is manifest to those who know the history of the Latter-day Saints and are acquainted with the labors of the Priesthood. peculiar relations of such to the generation in which they live, and to the generations of the past, and of the future, are not fully understood or appreciated by the masses of mankind.

The life and ministry of President Daniel H. Wells will serve to illustrate the thoughts we entertain upon this subject. He was the only son of his father who had no brothers. Before joining the Church he had but one son, and he has never married. It is probable that, but for the Gospel, the direct lineage through which Daniel H. Wells came would have expired in this son. But the principles of the revealed religion of Jesus Christ as taught by Joseph the Prophet, found a lodgment in the heart of this man, who had been raised to occupy the position of Savior of his lineage. Of all the principles taught by Joseph, none took so deep a hold upon him as the doctrine of vicarious work for the salvation of those who had not the opportunity to act for themselves. In this principle he could see the preservation of the sacred ties of kinship, and the patriarchal order of God's Kingdom was exemplified in the sealing of sons to their fathers and welding every link in the chain of descent from one gospel dispensation to another. He gave his life to the work of administering for others the ordinances of the Gospel which had

Through his ministry his forefathers for many generations have been acted for in every ordinance that can be administered in the Temples of God for their salvation. If they accept the testimony of the truth in the spirit world, they will reflect on the fact that to this distinguished son of their race they owe their liberation from the pirson of Paradise, for it was he who gave his life's labor for their salvation.

Then as to the future, from his immediate descendants to the remotest generations of time in tracing their rights and privileges in the Kingdom of God, all lead back to Daniel H. Wells, the first who received the Truth, and beyond him they cannot go. He alone of all his name occupies this distinguished position of honor the foremost personage of his lineage. Not one in all the ages of the past, nor in the generations that are to come, can rob him of this distinction. He is the head of his family past and future-in a certain sense, and with a significance we may not fully understand, their Savior. Of such as he are the kings and High Priests in the kingdoms of glory. In the eternities of the past the Gods laid the foundations of their greatness and power and dominion and glory in just such a ministry and life's labor as that which has just closed-In the eter⚫ nities to come there can be no doubt he will be one of them, having greatness and power and dominion and glory. This it is to be a Savior on Mount Zion.

The directors of the Salt Lake Choral Society have secured the services of Emma Thursby, the popular soprano, and Myron W. Whitney, the greatest basso in America, for the June festival. The appearance of these famous artists, with the Choral Society, composed of four hundred voices, and our best local singers, accompanied by the great organ, should make the festival the grandest ever given this side of Chicago, and establish our city as the musical center of all the west. The appreciation by our citizens, of the labors of this Society in placing our city in the lead, should be exhibited by every substantial support.