ceeds
of his labor, living himself upon the crudest necessaries of life. As
a young man he had gone as a Mormon missionary to the Hawaiian Islands,
and finding himself unable to convert the whites he had gone among the
natives--starving, a ragged wanderer--and by simple force of personality
he had made himself a power among them; so that in later years Napella,
the famous native leader, journeyed to Utah to consult with him upon the
affairs of that distressed state, and Queen Liluokalani, deposed and in
exile, appealed to him for advice. He had edited and published a Mormon
newspaper in San Francisco; and he had long successfully directed the
affairs of the publishing house in Salt Lake City which he owned. He
was a railroad builder, a banker, a developer of mines, a financier of
a score of interests. He combined the activities of a statesman, a
missionary, and a man of business, and seemed equally successful in all.

But none of these things--nor all of them--contained the total of the
man himself. He was greater than his work. He achieved by the force of
a personality that was more impressive than its achievements. If he had
been royalty, he could not have been surrounded with a greater deference
than he commanded among our people. A feeling of responsibility for
those dependent on him, such as a king might feel, added to a sense of
divine guidance that gave him the dignity of inspiration, had made him
majestical in his simple presence; and even among those who laughed at
divine inspiration and scorned Mormonism as the *Uitlander scorned the
faith of the Boer, his sagacity and his diplomacy and his power to read
and handle men made him as fearfully admired as any Oom Paul in the
Transvaal.

When I entered the low-ceilinged, lamplit room in which he sat, he rose
to meet me, and all rose with him, like a court. He embraced me without
effusion, looking at me silently with his wise blue eyes that always
seemed to read in my face--and to check up in his valuation of
me--whatever I had become in my absence from his regard.

He had a countenance that at no time bore any of the marks of the
passions of men; and it showed, now, no shadow of the tribulations of
that troubled day. His forehead was unworried. His eyes betrayed none of
the anxieties with which his mind must have been busied. His expression
was one of resolute stern contentment with all things--carrying the
composure of spirit which he wished his people to have.