descriptions of Alexander's dubar tent before Babylon? That, again, appears to have no central support. It was upheld, says Phylarchus, by eight pillars of solid gold. Of the glorious plenishing within we have not to speak, since our theme is mechanics. Around the throne and the great courtiers stood five hundred Mace• donian guards; in a circle beyond them five hundred Persian guards; beyond these again, one thousand archers. To fix a tent which held two thousand soldiers on duty with arms and accoutrements, surrounding in successive circles the most gorgeous Oriental court that ever was, with hundreds of satraps, councillors, generals, eunuchs and slaves, would perplex a mechanician of the nineteenth century. He will reply that the story is false-must be, because he could not match it. Happily the awning of the Colosseum stands beyond dispute, and Alexander's tent is a small matter compared with that. But we undertook to deal with the engineering of the ancients in connection with the theatre, having glanced on that class of illustration. Pliny tells how Metellus Scaurus, ædile, built a wondrous edifice, which stirred his rival, C. Curio, to frantic jealousy. It may be worth while in passing-since we are all so much interested in the theatre nowadays and think so much of our new ones-to tell what sort of a building that was which Curio set himself to outdo. It had three hundred and sixty marble columns, each thirty-eight feet high and thirty-eight feet apart. About two thousand bronze statues stood among them. The stage had three floors, as was usual; the lowest paved and fitted with marble, the second

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with glass, the third gilded, boards and all. It held eighty thousand people.

This account will seem so fabulous to steady-going moderns that it is prudent to give chapter and verse. The description will be found, with curious details and passionate reflections on the luxury of the day in Pliny's Natural History, xxxiii., 24. Such was the wonder which Curio resolved to beat, and feeling himself unable to vie in outlay, he summoned the engineers of the period to design something which would "fetch" the public. They built two enormous theatres of wood, each to contain an audience of twenty-five thousand, which stood back to back. When the spectators assembled in the forenoon, Curio was chaffed, no doubt, on his attempt to excel Scaurus. But the audience returned in the afternoon; for these entertainments were devoted to the manes of Curio's father, and lasted a month. In the place of two theatres back to back, they found an amphitheatre holding eighty thousand persons, wherein gladiators and wild beasts contended until dewy eve. The two great buildings had been swung round and united; and day by day for the month following, this colossal trick was repeated. The perfervid indignation of Pliny could not make him altogether indifferent to the ingenuity of the thing. The fact is, in brief, that those who know what ancient engineers did with their imperfect means, feel a qualified admiration for the works of the moderns. If Archimedes or Stasicrates had been acquainted with the forces and laws, with which every engineer is familiar in these days, they would have changed the face of the earth and the destinies of mankind.

have heard the old pioneers describe it. Now, look where they may, they see beautiful homes, lovely fields and orchards, majestic shade trees and waveing meadows. "Is it possible," say they, "this beautiful scene could ever have been the dreary waste we have heard our

fathers describe?" It is even so, and the writer, in whose memory those scenes are still fresh, will endeavor to illustrate by a few reminiscences.

It was on the 22nd of July 1850, that on my way to the California gold fields, I first entered the valley of the Great Salt Lake, but it seems as if 'twere yesterday. As our little company, of half a dozen wagons, emerged from the mouth of Parley's Cañon, a vast expanse of gray desert met the eye, enlivened only by a growth of stunted sunflowers upon the slopes or "benches" at the foot of the mountains. Gray, gray everywhere; nothing but the bluish-gray of sagebrush and greasewood covered the whole face of the land. Not an acre of meadow or green grass to be seen anywhere: the only green visible, being a thin line of willows along the Jordan, or the small streams flowing into the valley from the mountains.

We saw squaws among the sunflowers with basket and paddle in hand, beating the sunflower seeds into their baskets; the seed ground between two flat stones into a coarse meal, forming material for their only kind of bread. The Indians cultivated no land, but subsisted upon game, fish, sunflower seeds and roots; and when grasshoppers and crickets were plentiful, they gathered them by the bushel and baked them for future use in pits, which they dug in the ground and heated by fires Imade in them. Sometimes the poor natives had not even this to eat, and to preserve life, had to subsist upon the inner bark of cedar and juniper, and seedbearing grass.

Although the scene upon entering the valley of the Great Salt Lake was desolate in the extreme, away in the distance was a sight that gladdened the eye and caused tears of joy to flow from more than one of our party. For months had we toiled slowly onward, living upon bacon and flour-flour and bacon-month after month. "And now," we thought, as we saw the distant houses, "now we may get something good to eat—some milk, butter -green vegetables!" What luxuries! Who can appreciate such things until long deprivation has made them precious?

We drove through the scattered town of small one story adobe or log dwellings, but saw nowhere a sign displayed to indicate store, grocery or other place of business. I afterwards found there were a few small second-hand stores in town, one on Emigration street, as Fourth South was then called; one east of President Young's block, and one or two in other places, but none on Main Street, which, at that time was lined on either side by a simple pole fence. No shade trees or orchards were to be seen; if any fruit trees had been planted they were too small to be casually noticed. Some tall native cottonwoods stood along the south branch of City Creek, which ran southerly through the lot formerly owned by General Wells. The other branch of the creek ran westward, through the Temple Block, and thence found its way to the Jordan.

The Old Fort on the present Sixth Ward or Pioneer Square, was still inhabited by families, who had not yet been able to build upon their own lots. Everybody was busy-no loafers standing aboutevery man engaged in the mighty work of building a new state in the midst of the desert. And every man was a farmer. Food is the most important requisite of life; people may and do live without clothing or comforts, but food they must have or soon they die. So every man's great desire seemed to secure food for himself and family-a desire sharpened by the sufferings of the infant colony during the two previous years of partial famine.

One thing struck a stranger as very odd the sight of money disdained and refused in making a trade. For instance, I buy some butter or vegetables, and offer the money for it-"Can't you let me have some sugar, sir, or some coffee or dried apples, instead of money?" I answer that we have but little of such articles left-hardly enough to last us to California, and again offer the cash. "Oh, do let us have a little dried fruit, it is so long since I had any!" And so we found there are things more desirable than money. This was a common experience during the summer of 1850-money re

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It may be different in Utah to-day.

Other things-strange things-were noticed by our party. Not an oath was heard from any of the Mormon settlers; and if a Gentile uttered one, he did so carefully, as we understood a man was liable to a fine for swearing. Not a drunken man could be seen-for there were no drinking hells allowed until Gentile Christianity forced them upon the people. And there were no houses of ill fame until the same corrupt but overpowering force introduced and sustained them. "Why," said they, "you must be like other people-you must have all these things." They judged Mormons by themselves.

No one thought to fasten a door at night-there were no thieves;and a woman might pass through the streets alone at any hour of the night with perfect safety. Is it so today? If not, is it Mormonism or its opposite that has wrought so woeful a change? There is no dubiety as to the

answer.

A few settlers lived in Davis county, and some where Ogden now stands; also at Provo and its surroundings in Utah county. The country about Bountifulnow so rich and productive-then lay an open waste, covered only by a short, stunted growth of sage and greasewood, and to all human appearance seemed utterly worthless. As the writer rode over it in those days he would not have taken a mile square of it as a gift. What was it good for? It would produce nothing-not even grass-without water, and there was no water for it. "Yes," says the reader, "but there is water for it now; why not then?" I will tell you. When the Latter-day Saints settled Utah they blessed the land by the authority of the Holy Priesthood, that it should be fertile, and they blessed the waters, that they should increase. The Almighty heard, approved and verified their words. That is the reason in a nutshell; that explains the great change that has taken place since Utah was first settled; a change well known to all the old pioneers. I heard President Kimball, one day, when, in the spirit of prophecy,

creases among the people, so shall the waters increase from this time forth. Write it down if you like, for it is true." I heard his words and recorded them, and now testify to their truth, as shown by almost forty years experience since the words were spoken. The waters in Utah have increased. Small rivulets, dry in summer, have become steady streams, and much larger, and large streams have grown larger. Springs have broken out where they never existed before, as the writer knows by personal observation.

In the spring of 1851 I went to where Payson now stands, selected a farm, and proposed to settle. At that time-March Ioth, not a house had been erected, but some were being built of logs, by seven families lately arrived. Making known to them my intention, I was answered: "Oh yes, you may have all the land you want, but no water. We claim all the water, and there is not enough for us." And so I went down to Iron County. Water at Payson was scarce; the whole stream would have run in a ditch two feet wide or less. How many people live in and around Payson now? Hundreds, if not thousands, and all have water. So has it been all through Utah. I remember upon one occasion while traveling in southern Utah, in company with Apostles George A. Smith and Amasa Lyman, we stopped for lunch one day at a small spring which oozed from a bank, ran a few yards and disappeared in the sand-the only water for miles. around. And this is how we got water to drink:-One sat beside the spring with spoon and tin cup, dipping a spoonful at a time until the cup was full. Years afterwards, I passed that place again, and found to my astonishment, five families. living there, all supplied from the same spring with water enough for gardens and fruit trees. Many similar examples might be noted, had we space.

For years after Utah was settled the country was considered the very worst. President Young used to say it was a good country for the Saints to live in, "for," said he, "no one else would or could inhabit it." For years it required constant per

suasion from the Presidency and Twelve to keep the people from wandering away to more favored lands, and nothing but the wonderful faith of the people retained them. In spite of all, many did go away each year, feeling as if their hardships were more than they could bear. But the great majority remained, sustained by a faith without parallel in the history of any people.

More than a thousand miles from the Missouri river; surrounded on all sides by powerful, unconquered tribes of bloodthristy savages; poor, plundered of their all by ruthless Christian foes in Missouri and Illinois; hated and despised by all the world; what but suffering and death could they expect in their isolated, desert home? Their clothing would soon wear out, their ammunition needed for self-defense, would soon be expended, and all this would require a year's journey to replace. But they could at least raise bread. "No," says Col. Bridger and others long resident there, “you can't raise anything here. Frost every month in the year." He said he would give one thousand dollars for the first bushel of corn they could raise, and felt secure in his offer.

But the Saints did conquer the desert, by the blessing of Him who rules all

things; and their achievements, in founding a prosperous commonwealth as they did, in the face of almost insurmountable difficulties will yet be pointed to as some of the most remarkable upon record. The silly babble indulged in by some of the enemies of the Mormons,-that Utah was desirable in the beginningfertile, abounding in water and verdant meadows-can only bring a smile to the pioneer, who remembers things as they were then.

Today Utah is a garden; but it has become so by the blessing of the Almighty upon the untiring, Herculean toils of the Latter-day Saints, who had faith in God and trusted their leaders. Their faith, so steadfast and sublime is called by the world fanaticism; but the Saints know in whom they trust, and have no fears as to the future of Zion. The fires of persecution and the blows of their enemies have the same effect upon them as the flame of the forge, the anvil and the blacksmith's sledge, upon the heated steel, solidifying and shaping and tempering it more perfectly. And if some cannot endure the ordeal, but fly off like the sparks under the hammer, it is only an evidence that the remainder, purified from dross, is more coherent and stronger than ever.

James H. Martineau.

THERE are people known as utilitarians, who claim that nothing on earth is worthy of our attention unless it can be put to some practical and pecuniarily beneficial use. They claim, and use specious and attractive arguments to support the claim, that many things under the sun are of a superfluous character and that the loss of these would not materially affect man or his interests. In the education of their children these individuals would restrict the instruction to those branches, the knowledge of which can be immediately utilized in the procurement of a livelihood. They would banish from the school and from the home all æsthetic culture. They would prohibit

the teaching of those branches which impart a delight to the soul, not to be experienced by the sordid mind. It is pleasing to think that these individuals are becoming so few that we shall soon have to seek them as Diogenes sought the honest man-with a candle.

Another class of utilitarians should be mentioned, those who claim all principles and appliances to be necessary to the well-being of men, which are of indirect benefit, though their practical use may for the time being be imperceptible. In this latter class of utilitarians, I think every true Latter-day Saint can claim membership, for it is one of the cardinal principles of the Mormon doctrine that

God never reveals anything of a superfluous character, and that all truth existent upon the earth has emanated from Him. Much gratification is afforded us by the fact that constant additions are being made to the ranks of those who consider the indirect and remote, as well as the direct and immediate benefits accruing from a science.

Opposed to both classes of utilitarians is the individual whom, for the want of a better name, I shall call a transcendentalist. He claims that the utility of a science or an art should never be considered as affecting its importance; but that we should foster all kinds of research and accept all demonstrated principles for the sake of our natural love for truth, without question as to utility. This class is largely recruited from the ranks of philosophers and theorists, and from others who are engaged in metaphysical research. But there are many of those spending their time in such pursuits, who take a pride in calling attention to the practical use to be made of all their inventions and discoveries, and such I believe to be actuated by the proper spirit.

In order, however, that this idea may be properly appreciated, it is necessary that the meaning of the term "use" be extended far beyond its mercenary one. It is from this point of view that we desire to treat the subject under discussion. Judged from a merely mercenary standpoint, the study of history can be of but little benefit to a man pursuing the ordinary avocations of life. He cannot apply his knowledge of that branch to his business affairs, as he can a knowledge of the "three R's." He cannot make it available on the farm, at the workbench or in the mountains. There he is confronted with living issues, with events of present importance, which have a tendency to exclude from his mind that which has its connection only with the dead past. His labors are usually of local interest alone, and have no relation in a direct sense with the works accomplished by men, in places far distant from his own. Nay, more; the very act of turning his attention to that which has no local or present importance,

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compels him to relax for the present his hold upon the realities of life, and he consequently assumes an air of abstraction, foreign, and in some cases fatal, to the accomplishment of the purpose he has in

view.

I would not therefore recommend the pursuit of the study of history, or of any other branch, merely for the sake of the extension of one's knowledge of that branch, without an idea of the use to be made of such knowledge in local and daily affairs. This point conceded, it now remains for us to consider the use which can be made of that knowledge in our every-day labors. Before taking up the consideration of this subject, it may be well to have it understood that the term "usefulness” is employed in a broad sense. I would call those things useful which cause our fields to be more productive, our houses more comfortable, our cities more pleasant, our public buildings more commodious and elegant. But I believe it is not well to stop here. Let us consider as useful that which has a tendency to enlarge our minds, to develop our natural powers, to increase our faith in God. Let us be optimists in the true sense of the word, holding that God has not placed anything upon the earth or among any of His vast creations, without decreeing its use. Then can we truthfully say with the poet,

"The waves that moan along the shore,
The winds that sigh in blowing,
Are sent to teach a mystic lore

Which men are wise in knowing."

If this is true of inanimate nature, how much more so must it be of those beings whom God has placed upon the earth, endowed with God-like intellects, and commanded to do His will. Can we not say that their sighings and their moanings as well as their rejoicings, conveyed to us through the medium of their written history, will teach a lore, not mystic, but clear and tangible, which we shall be doubly wise in knowing? And what wisdom will thus be given us! Wisdom which will enable us to look with a broader and more comprehensive view of sympathy and brotherly love upon our fellow-creatures.