The Book of Mormon teaches us that the gospel is to be carried to the remnants, that is, the natives of America (Indians.) The promise is that the natives will receive the gospel and rejoice in it. The census of Mexico shows that there are over six millions of pure blooded Indians or descendants of the ancient races inhabiting this country. Now when this mission was opened a great many became enthusiastic over the prospects and expected great things of us, the first missionaries to Mexico. I remember writing to my wife while in El Paso, referring to this spirit, telling her that many would be disappointed in the mission, but that I should not; that I should be satisfied even if we did not baptize a single person; that our mission was more as prospectors going through to prepare the way, and that President Young so understood it. We were to be governed by circumstances and not to feel disappointed if we could get to distribute our books and learn about the country and make friendly acquaintance with the people. That was all that would be expected of us on the trip. This was our calling. We were not sent to baptize and organize branches, neither were we forbidden to do so. That was an open question to be decided upon according to the openings made. There were two parties in Mexico, the Catholics and Liberals. We kept our eyes open for the latter as we were always safe with them. When we reached the city of Chihuahua, I desired to find a stopping place with a Liberal. The Liberals of Mexico believe in religious liberty, please don't think they were like Utah Liberals(?). We did not wish to seem partial to either, and did not like to make a direct enquiry. I was well acquainted with the old customs of this place, having lived there for some time, so we drove up near the Catholic cathedral. I knew that any good Catholic, passing in front of the church, would take off his hat, but a Liberal would pass along with his hat on. In 1847, when I was there, _all_ had to take off their hats, or run the risk of getting a good pelting with rocks. But it was not the case in 1876, the time I am now writing about. I soon noticed a large, fine-looking man coming along who did not raise his hat. I asked him to direct us to a good maison or hostelry. I felt sure he would send me to the right place which he did, to the maison San Francisco. A maison is a large building with rooms, corrals and stabling where you can rent accommodations and sustain yourself, generally with stores of provisions kept by the proprietor to sell to travelers, connected. On arriving and taking rooms and stables, I went to the landlord and told him we had left our money at El Paso, to be expressed to us, and we wished him to credit us for a few days for such provisions and feed as we needed. He said, "No sir. I will not do that."