On Saturday, December 1, 1877, I visited the so-called White Horse of Westbury. The picture is made by cutting away the green turf and exposing the underlying white chalk, on the brow of a hill that can be seen for many miles around. At a distance, the horse looks as natural as life. After I had taken measurements, I wrote to my little son Ferra: "The White Horse of Westbury." I saw a horse upon the plain, A horse of great renown; His equal I have never seen Walking above the ground. Most beautiful in form and limb, His skin of spotless snow, I longed to be upon his back, But could not make him go. This horse in size is hard to beat-- From nose to tail I measure-- It is one hundred and seventy feet; Now isn't he a treasure? To know the height we stretched a line From hoof to top of shoulder-- One hundred and twenty feet we find, And he's daily growing older! A horse so big I'm sure would make A team for any man-- E'en Jacobs thinks he'd cut a wake If he but owned a span. And so would I, you bet your hat, I'd have a jolly bust-- I'd take him down to London town And swap him off for dust. I'd want a penny for each hour That he has stood alone-- I'd want a crown for every pound Of flesh, without a bone; Or I would sell him by his age-- (Not sell him as he runs) For he has stood a thousand years, Exposed to rains and suns! He stands erect upon the hill, As proud as proud can be, To mark the place where Alfred wise Gained his great victory. For whip or spur he will not budge, And yet he will not balk. This is a fact, and not a fudge, For he is made of chalk. On Sunday, December 2nd, 1877, we held meeting in the Saints' Hall, Bristol. President Jacobs delivered an excellent discourse on the first principles of the Gospel. I followed, showing that Mormonism is not a new Gospel, but is the very Gospel of Jesus Christ renewed in its purity as taught eighteen hundred years ago, by the savior and His apostles. The meeting was well attended, several strangers being present. I wrote a letter to Elder Edward M. Webb, of Orderville, from which I make an extract. "It may seem strange, perhaps incredible, to you, when I say that plural marriage and the United Order were both painful to me. When I was a child I had seen so many of the follies of men, and the breaking up of families by the thoughtless acts of unwise persons--all of which I attributed to the evils of a principle which is in itself, pure--that I became embittered and cherished hatred toward that which I now admire and love.