ual there had been
no good-bye--the message gave her a terrible shock. Hope fled, and a
prostrating illness followed. The belief that he would be killed pressed
itself upon her and returned with inexplicable insistence. She picked up
a newspaper, and the first thing that met her eye was a paragraph headed
"Murder of Captain Burton." The shock was terrible, but anxious enquiry
revealed the murdered man to be another Captain Burton, not her Richard.

40. Brigham Young. April 1860 to November 1860.

It was natural that, after seeing the Mecca of the Mohammedans, Burton
should turn to the Mecca of the Mormons, for he was always attracted by
the centres of the various faiths, moreover he wished to learn the truth
about a city and a religion that had previously been described only by
the biassed. One writer, for instance--a lady--had vilified Mormonism
because "some rude men in Salt Lake City had walked over a bridge before
her." It was scarcely the most propitious moment to start on such a
journey. The country was torn with intestine contentions. The United
States Government were fighting the Indians, and the Mormons were busy
stalking one another with revolvers. Trifles of this kind, however, did
not weigh with Burton. After an uneventful voyage across the Atlantic,
and a conventional journey overland, he arrived at St. Joseph, popularly
St. Jo, on the Missouri. Here he clothed himself like a backwoodsman,
taking care, however, to put among this luggage a silk hat and a frock
coat in order to make an impression among the saints. He left St. Jo
on August 7th and at Alcali Lake saw the curious spectacle of an Indian
remove. The men were ill-looking, and used vermilion where they ought
to have put soap; the squaws and papooses comported with them; but there
was one pretty girl who had "large, languishing eyes, and sleek black
hair like the ears of a King Charles Spaniel." The Indians followed
Burton's waggon for miles, now and then peering into it and crying
"How! How!" the normal salutation. His way then lay by darkling canons,
rushing streams and stupendous beetling cliffs fringed with pines.
Arrived at his destination, he had no difficulty, thanks to the good
offices of a fellow traveller, in mixing in the best Mormon Society. He
found himself in a Garden City. Every householder had from five to ten
acres in the suburbs, and one and a half close at home; and the people
seemed happy. He looked in vain, however, for t