anything about it, Gwyn, only if he will marry us!" exclaimed the young man, almost hotly. "You know very well," he continued, "that the Bishop loves you; and I know that he does not like me." The last of this remark surprised Gwyn. Feeling assured herself that the Bishop and other leading men of the ward had an especial admiration for Jacob's fine abilities and the manly course he was pursuing, (for she had heard it from their own lips,) she wondered how Jacob could have conceived the idea that he was disliked by any of them. She raised her eyes to his, and was still more surprised by the fierce, dark look she met. "What makes you think he does not like you?" she asked, not attempting to tackle the idea that he loved her. repeated time after time, made me feel as though Bishop Smith thought me only fit for such company; and it hurt me, and hurts me yet when I think of it." a "Oh! Jacob," exclaimed Gwyn, "you have quite misjudged the Bishop in this matter. I happened to be working for Sister Smith that summer, and one evening after you brethren had held business meeeing, the Bishop brought his two counselors and two or three of the teachers home with him for supper; I remember it so well, for we hadn't bread enough for supper, and Sister Smith sent me to the neighbor's to borrow a loaf. While waiting upon the table, I heard the brethren talking over their business affairs, for that was the purpose for which the Bishop brought them home with him. They spoke of you, "Because he has shown it on differtoo, as being the only man in the ent occasions," Jacob answered. place, young as you then were, that "Please tell me when and in what could manage, and get any good out way," said Gwyn. of that careless, shiftless crowd of men and boys. Brother Lee said it seemed too bad to send you to take care of them again, when you had been so patient, and diligent in working with them before. And the Bishop said he thought so too, but there was not another man, young or old that he could trust to take charge of that company, and expect to get any good returns whatever from them. Some one suggested the dividing up of that worthless lot, and sending one or two of them in each of the other sets; but the Bishop said there were boys, and, he was sorry to say, men too, in each company, already, who would be only too glad to fall in with the lazy ways of any of that lot, if they only had one to set the example for them. But he said, Jacob Howe would be a "Well, I will tell you some things which I have never mentioned, not even to my mother;" replied Jacob, "for I do not believe in finding fault with those in authority, and have never done it. But I'll tell you this, and then, try to forget it. When we were getting out logs and timber for the new meeting-house, five or six times, in fact, every time I volunteered my services, the Bishop asked me to take charge of the meanest, laziest set of boys and men that would offer to work at all; expecting me to keep them straight, keep all their accounts, and do my share at chopping, measuring, hauling, or whatever was given the company to do, besides. If it had happened only once or twice, it would have seemed right enough; but being man and a gentleman no matter who he was with, and would do good and faithful work, and keep an honest account of it, wherever and however he might be employed; and that his example of honest industry, would do more towards shaming the lazy crowd into doing their duty, than all the scolding, bossing and talking of the older brethren put together. Then they talked of your faithfulness to your parents, your generous donations to the ward; and all they said of you showed that you were well liked, particularly by the Bishop. I felt so glad and so proud of you, for even then it seemed to me as though you were something more to me than other men were; almost like a brother, I think, for you were always so kind." Gwyn paused now, and allowed Jacob to draw her head upon his bosom and stroke her bright, glossy hair. Her words seemed to have been a new revelation to him. The shades had passed from his face while she spoke, and light had come again into both his eyes and his heart. "Why can't we go together, and talk with the Bishop?" he asked presently. "Wouldn't you like to ?" "No," replied Gwyn, "I would rather not; besides, I must go and help with the wool, I've done so little at it." "Well," said Jacob, "before I go to the Bishop's and you to your work, let us kneel down here by mother's bed and pray for the Lord's blessing and favor on all we say and do.” and her voice trembled, but her little prayer was to the point, and eloquent. Jacob paused a moment before knocking at the half-open door of Bishop Smith's office. The Bishop saw him and said quickly, "Come in, Brother Jacob, I am glad to see you; how is your health?" After this cordial greeting Jacob felt less awkward in entering than he had thought he would, and as he stepped inside the office door, the Bishop arose from the desk, where a book of accounts lay open before him, put down from his knee his three-year-old pet girl, from whose chubby finger he had been extracting a sliver with the point of his pocket knife, and extended his hand for a friendly hand-shake with his visitor. Then he sent the little girl to see if mamma wanted her for anything, placed a chair near his own for Jacob and resumed his seat. "I want to speak with you on a little private business," Jacob began, plunging into the subject at once, as was his way with all difficult matters. "Yes," answered the Bishop, “I am at your service, Jacob; what can I do for you?" "Well," Jacob said, "I am thinking of getting married; that's what I came to speak to you about." "Good! I congratulate you and will give you a recommend with great pleasure," said the Bishop. When are you going to the city?" "I don't quite know-yet," answered Jacob hesitatingly. "It doesn't matter," returned the Bishop, taking a piece of note paper from the desk and preparing to write, "I will write your recommend now, and it will be ready whenever you want it. Who is the fortunate young Gwyn acquiesced, and brief but spirited prayers, full of meaning and earnestness, were offered up by each in turn ere they separated. Gwyn had never before prayed aloud in the hearing of any man; her heart beat fast | lady upon whom you have bestowed your affections?" he asked after commencing to write. Jacob fastened his eyes intently upon Bishop Smith's face and answered briefly, "Gwyn Lloyd." The Bishop turned very white and a cry would have escaped his lips but that he restrained it, making a mistake with his pen instead, writing "Kimble" for "Kimball," in President H. C. Kimball's name, to whom he was addressing the recommend. He noticed the error at once and quickly crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, then tore it up and threw it into the waste basket, thus giving slight vent to the surprised pain which he felt. This action was keenly observed but entirely misinterpreted by Jacob. He thought, and doubtless with some consistency, that the recommend was torn up because he wanted to marry little Gwyn, the Bishop's favorite. The jealous suspicions, which Gwyn's timely explanations of by-gone events had succeeded in quelling, were again aroused with renewed fierceness, the "lights" again went out of Jacob's heart and eyes, and deep, dark "shades" settled again upon his face. He had no time to speak forth his thoughts, even if he had been so unwise, so lost to self-control as to have opened his lips at such a time, feeling as he did, before the Bishop arose and opened a top drawer in the desk for more note paper; and this simple changing of position gave the brave and good-hearted man a chance to take a full breath, and while his face was turned from his companion he remarked very pleasantly and with seeming great composure, "Well done! I must indeed congratulate you; and please extend my warmest congratulations to little Gwyn also, I may not see her very soon myself; and you both certainly have my kindest wishes for your present, future and eternal welfare and happiness." [TO BE CONTINUED.] O MY PEOPLE, BE ONE. L. L. DALTON. WE READ in the volume so ancient and true We know that when spoken His word never fails, Nor passes away until done; We oft feel in haste the fulfillment to see, more, Of many we sometimes lack one; We wonder, but hark! while it whispereth o'er, "Be one, O my people, be one." How can we expect to obtain a reward Or claim as our due at the hands of our Lord How patiently, pleadingly cometh the call ! Our wishes can not all be done; Oh, rich are the gifts our dear Father hath given, But richer are still in His hand; He longeth to bless and He much hath forgiven, And strengthened our weakness to stand. But for His best treasures to ask is in vain "Except ye are one, ye are not mine." Oh hear, To whom were His promises given ! If we will be froward how much may we fear Our claims on His love will be riven. We may remain strangers and aliens to God, To do this, with union our feet must be shod; "Be one, O my people, be one." Then wonder not, brothers, nor turn from the road Because prayer is sometimes unheard, That power and might still remain unbestowed, According to His sacred word. "The meek shall inherit the earth," He hath said; Then shall we be haughty, and run Our own willful course, and on weaker ones tread? "Be one, O my people, be one." "By this ye may know ye have passed unto life, If ye love one another," He saith. Then dare we be wranglers and lovers of strife, THE WESTERN BOOM. F THE lean tramp had asked Dager if he was a baboon or a materialized spirit, he would have had as high an opinion of his mental balance. A very human impulse prompted him to evade the question until he should be able to fathom the motive and bias of the man, so he said: "Why do you ask?" "I thought so! I thought so!" said the tramp, taking the evasion for an affirmative answer and waving him off. "Go away! I don't want you to touch me, I ain't well!" "That is the reason I am going to stay by you. But I am not a Mormon, if that is the reason why you wish to get rid of me. When you feel better," said Dager in a very unemotional way, seating himself beside the tramp, who shrank from him, "I would like you to tell me why you thought I was a Mormon." They relapsed into silence, the old tramp still breathing hard, and occasionally casting furtive glances at the man beside him. At last the tramp arose to his feet and started off; making no other apology than simply saying, "I guess I'll be movin'." Dager made no attempt to stop him, nor did he even speak to him as he shuffled off, looking behind him as he went. Dager sat there deep in meditation until the twilight shadows admonished him that it was time to seek a shelter. He wondered at the anxiety in the tramp's manner when he asked him if he was a Mormon. He had heard of Mormons, of course, for who had not? There was nothing particularly flattering in the supposition that the lean tramp had formed, for the general impression that came to him now, was as of a city of lepers set apart from all mankind; and, needy, seedy, broken in fortune, and well nigh broken in heart, he considered the question no compliment. "I'll find out sometime what he meant," he said to himself, walking briskly towards his lodging-place. Then he laughed softly and said, "that is the second time the old genius has asked me a question I could not answer, and that seemed like the key to problems, too deep for surface scanning." It was not strange that he should dream of him all night; and wake in the morning with a strong impression that he had dreamed something that it would have been interesting to recall, and be utterly unable to do so. As soon as possible he got his breakfast, which was simply bread this time, for he had spent so much the day before that he felt this privation to be necessary. Very soon after noon he entered the office where he had sold his notes the day before. The editor was not in, but Dick, the officeboy, pointed to a chair and said, with the condescension of a superior, "Mr. Heartwell will be back presently, and you can wait. Dager drew his chair up to a window and sat for a few moments looking out into the street. It was thronged with passers-by, and his keenly analytical mind prompted him to observe the gait at which people were hurrying or sauntering by. He was startled into a belief that there was a curious analogy between the face and the gait of each person, and also between the expression of the face and the clothes of the wearer. How clear his mind was! "By George!" he exclaimed, mentally seizing a note book and making some brief memoranda, "to be able to read these people every day as I see them now would be a liberal education. What an endless panorama of interesting varieties of human flowers one would have to inspect. I believe I'll write a novel," he thought, half laughing, "and take my characters from this street." of his body. He chanced to glance at the window as he got opposite, and Dager had had a very good look at his face. His beard was a rich, dark brown and perfectly beautiful, his eyes clear, hazel, but rather too prominent, and his nose was a Roman, very thin and hooked. His forehead was round, his head was round, his neck was round and one ungloved hand was white and delicate as a woman's. "There," said Dager, who had taken in the man's personnel at a glance, " is a religious hypocrite. There is mock humility under a cloak of scorching pride. There is a man, if I do him not an injustice, who if smitten on one cheek would turn the other in order that you should not see him put poison on the lancet he meant to prick you with." He hastily wrote the description, with his impressions of the man, in a note book, and again looked out. A lady was just going by, a little above the medium height, slender, graceful, elegant, both in bearing and costume. Her face was rather colorless, the features not quite sufficiently well defined, and her eyes a yellow blue. Probably born a beauty and brought up on it, was Dager's mental soliloquy as he noted her appearance in his pocket memoranda and placed after it the words, "false, fair and selfish to the heart's core." He was just beginning the analysis of a stout, grave man, whose every step seemed like a period, when chancing to look up he saw Dick standing in the middle of the floor with his arms Just then a tall gentleman in cleri- folded and his spine rigidly upright. cal black passed the window. There was a slight stoop in his shoulders and He lacked nothing of the Roman sentinel except size and the traditional his legs were rather long for the length | helmet. |