Music softens the heart, and helps men and women to receive the Gospel. Tourists come in a constant stream, to listen to the wonderful tones of the great organ and the singing of the splendid choir in the Salt lake Tabernacle. The Gospel is not always preached to them; they do not always want the Gospel; but they are mellowed by the music, and they go away with kinder feelings toward, and a better understanding of, the people who build such instruments, who organize such choirs, and rear such structures. Their works speak for them. Grapes are not gathered from thorns, nor figs from thistles. Depraved wretches, such as the "Mormons" are falsely represented to be, do not love music, poetry and philosophy, do not cultivate the arts and sciences, do not turn deserts into gardens, nor rear Tabernacles and Temples unto God. I well remember when President Grant came to Utah--the first President of the United States to set foot within the Territory, now a State. It was at a time when, all over this broad land, the bitterest prejudice prevailed against the Latter-day Saints; and it was freely asserted that the man who had finished with the South, would "make short work of Utah and the Mormons." Among the places visited by the President and his party while in Salt Lake City, was the Tabernacle, where they heard the great organ. I do not know what he thought of it, but Mrs. Grant, her face streaming with tears, turned to Captain Hooper, who had been Utah's delegate in Congress, and said with deep feeling: "I wish I could do something for these good Mormon people." The music had touched her heart, and perhaps the heart of her noble husband; for General Grant was noble, though yielding at times to strong prejudice. Before reaching the Tabernacle, he had passed up South Temple Street, lined on both sides with Sunday School children, neatly and tastefully attired, waving banners and mottoes of welcome to the Nation's Chief. Riding in an open carriage, and running the gauntlet of applause and cheers, the honored guest turned to Governor Emery, who sat at his side, and inquired concerning the juvenile host: "What children are these?" "Mormon children," replied Emery. Grant was silent for a moment, and then was heard to murmur, "I have been deceived." But he never was deceived again--not in the same way. He could trust his eyes when he looked upon those beautiful children: they were not the product of crime and depravity, not the offspring of savages and criminals. He could trust his ears, too, when he heard that choir and organ. No one could make him believe, after that, that the "Mormons" were as black as they had been painted. No Substitute for the Gospel.