On the other hand there was very little of the inspired prophet about Brigham Young. He was essentially a ruler, an organizer, a law-giver. His preaching was contemptible, but his strength of will inflexible; that, and not any pretence to inspiration, was the secret of the power which he wielded. He was entirely uneducated, and rather seemed to pride himself upon the fact, but he was an admirable worker and had a knowledge of several crafts besides that of painter and glazier, which was his immediate business before joining Joe Smith. This served him in good stead on the great trek; as a carpenter he helped to build anything that might be needed from a boat to a tabernacle, and he was of great practical utility when the New Zion was in course of erection. As an organizer and business man he excelled. Under his guidance industries of all kinds sprang up in the new community; he started co-operative stores, banks and places of business. Schools were established, even schools of music and dancing academies, for the Lion of the Lord was himself a great dancer, and it was said that the austere man would even condescend to perform in a breakdown. The drama was a passion with him, so it was not long before a theatre was built. His own trading was carried out on excellent principles. He bought cheaply and sold dearly, even succeeding in getting the better of the United States Commissariat Department. The Saints used to boast with pride of the wealth of their Prophet. He was a sound financier, deeply penetrated by the truth of the maxim, “Les affaires sont l’argent des autres.” Such poor thunders as the Jupiter of the United States hurled at him passed harmlessly over his head. Often, standing at the helm of the State which he had created, he defied the supreme power, dauntless and unmoved. Apart from all the crimes and all the baser sides of his character it is impossible to deny that he had many of the qualities which go to make a statesman. If he was a destroyer he was also a constructor, and the New Zion as I saw it in 1873 was his work, and his alone. The sun was dipping in the western sky as we were carried past the pretty shores of the Great Salt Lake, a glorious metallic sheet glowing with rosy light. In the distance were the Wahsatch Mountains rich in beauty, silver and swindles, and as we drew near there was a pink haze over the Zion of the Saints. The houses, each standing in its own little orchard, with the fruit trees in the full bloom of spring-time, reminded me of some Eastern city. There was only one shrieking ugliness, the huge tabernacle with its great oblong white roof shaped like a dish cover—a monstrosity upon which ingenuity had spent itself in the successful endeavour to produce something which should defy the world to show anything equally hideous.