hood of a person addicted to scolding; in the schoolroom, place of business, or the home circle. A want of influence is immediately apparent. The teacher who is eternally railing at his pupils, inspires nothing but contempt, unless it be amusement, which under the circumstances, is about the same thing. The noisier he is, the noisier his school will be; and so it is with the head of a family, the manager of a theatre, the overseer of an establishment, or any one holding authority over others. The one who scolds will be scolded in return, just as surely as like produces like, and according to the scriptural declaration that whatsoever is meted out by one shall be meted unto him in return.

"Speak gently; it is better far, To rule by love than fear." Not only is it better, but ninetynine cases in a hundred, it is far easier to rule by kindness than to enforce obedience by harshness and cruelty. Human nature instinctively rebels against unkind treatment, and the finest and noblest natures are the ones which feel, if they do not resent it the quickest. I never could comprehend why so many believe in and advocate harsh language as a necessity. The rude drover will take his oath that his cattle mind him better when he storms and shouts invectives at them; the profane ruffian says it does him good to free his mind by a volley of oaths, and the shrewish housekeeper solemnly affirms that she must scold and threaten in order to be properly understood and obeyed. That she becomes properly understood is very likely; the language which escapes unstudied from a person's lips, is generally a fair index to the mind where it originated, as the character of the natural fruit is a criterion of the tree which produced it; but that she is more readily obeyed, than she would be if she adopted a milder method, is a delusion as false as it is foolish. There is just as much reason in the declaration of the cattle drover or the ruffian, that his word has more influence or his mind is benefited by coarseness and profanity, as in the vain imagination that angry speech,

complaining or faultfinding in the household, will better secure its end, than could be effected by an opposite course. Because a person has adopted scolding as a habit, and taught others to expect it whenever he comes within hearing, and because anything of a gentler nature would pass unheeded, or only awaken a momentary surprise in the listener, not used to hearing or obeying anything of so soft a character from such a source; no argument is furnished to support the erroneous doctrine that scolding is a necessity. Habit, and habit only, is amenable in such a case. The secret of good government is a kind heart, a firm will and few words.

A monotony of any kind we soon learn to disregard and treat with indifference, and if forced upon us, we sicken speedily and sigh after a change. Let the reader imagine himself the inmate of a dungeon cell, subsisting upon bread and water, with little or nothing to enliven the dull, tedious hours, that drag like a lengthening chain, coil after coil, binding him day by day closer to despair and wretchedness; his sight bounded by the four walls of his prison, his hearing oppressed by the continuous clank of chains or the harsh grating of his rusty door, and his taste cloyed by the stale and scanty provender doled out from day to day, which he must either swallow loathingly and mechanically, or reject and suffer from the pangs of hunger. Would not such a person be apt to appreciate a change of life and diet? Take an opposite example. The pampered child of wealth, born and reared in a palace, where every wish is gratified before expressed, every word the law to a score of surrounding menials, and whose only care is to seek after pleasure and pursue it till satiety ensues; whose life is an empty, glittering dream, whose mind is a playground for every idle impulse, and who is constantly miserable because his time and talents are unoccupied, and he has everything that heart can desire excepting the desire to enjoy it. Would not such a one appreciate variety, even at the sacrifice of wealth and position?

Yet there are persons who consider a

desire for change indicative of a fickle and unreliable disposition. From one point such a view is based upon reason, and supported by numerous illustrations; but is it not the perversion of legitimate taste, and the wanton abuse of its privileges, that furnish such a prospect? A propensity for changing opinions, principles, situations or possessions, without good reason therefor, should always be deprecated. The political turncoat, whose policy is self interest; the hypocrite who changes his countenance as the chameleon changes its hue; the apostate, who renounces his faith as often as he loses his temper; the volatile tradesman who flits from one business to another; the weak headed controversialist, who argues on all sides of a question within twenty-four hours and has no settled opinion upon any; these are examples of changeability which none should desire to shield from the contempt they ought universally to excite; and as in the case of the ancient Greek burgher, who wanted Aristides banished because he was tired of hearing him called "the Just," are not entitled to respectful consideration in the light of the proverb: "Variety is the spice of life."

To fit through life like a butterfly among flowers; forming attachments in a moment, and breaking them in the next; half accomplishing one thing and deserting it for another; avowing friendship while the sun shines, to prove false when the storm lowers; imagining life was made for pleasure and having no nobler aim than pleasure; these indeed would indicate fickleness and unreliability, but not to glean knowledge from every righteous source, utilize it in every wise direction; acquire true and lasting friendships, and enjoy the wholesome beauties of variety which the hand of God has scattered around in endless and magnificent profusion. A desire for change is perfectly legitimate,and should be indulged when springing from a proper motive. There is a time for labor and a time for rest; a time for waking and a time for sleeping; a time for gayety and a time for reflection, and each is rendered doubly enjoyable by judicious

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and appropriate alternation. The desire for change is not only legitimate, but absolutely necessary. Without it there could be no advancement. It should be encouraged when it prompts us to progress, to lay aside false notions, and embrace new ideas whose authenticity has been established; but it should be restrained when it would induce us to forsake the tried and proven simply because it is old, and adopt the untried and novel, simply because it is new.

The world is peopled in variety. The rich are here to feed the poor, the strong to protect the weak, the wise to teach the foolish, the righteous to reclaim the wicked. These are duties expected of them, for the performance of which they will be held rigidly accountable. Thus is man tested and proven. It is essential for the opposing principles of good and evil to exist, that he may intelligently survey them and choose which he will serve. For it is only by studying the nature of the one that he can form a due estimate of the other. The world is full of variety, and God has designed it for the fulfillment of his purposes. And will there be no variety in heaven? Are its unchangeable laws incompatible with sensate diversities? Is it there eternal progress and variety, or endless stagnation and monotony? Our sectarian friends would fain convert us to the latter belief, but the light of revelation dispels such a delusion. Celestial beings are not subject to retrgression, and by whato other name could such a change be called? Those who secure eternal life, divested of fault and developed in perfection, will not only retain the essential traits and features which distinguish them here, but united in heavenly harmony will engage in innumerable congenial pursuits, for which they are severally fitted and designed.

If variety on earth be legitimate, in heaven it will be indispensable; if here it be conducive to comfort, it will there be essential to happiness. Man's talents that are developed in time, will all be employed in eternity, and the wisdom he acquires on earth, will rise with him in the resurrection. O. F. Whitney.

MOUNT MANY hundreds of tourists go abroad annually from the Eastern and Middle States, to see the mountain scenes of Switzerland and the Tyrol. They are ignorant of the grandeur and beauty of the mountain regions of our own country. They know nothing of the towering peaks and deep ravines, the green vales and shimmering lakes, which abound in the Rocky range of the Great West. Not only are people of the East unacquainted with the treasures of natural scenery with which we, in the Great Salt Lake Basin, are surrounded, but many of our own residents, reposing in the towns and cities of the large valleys, are in equal oblivion of the pleasure and delight that would greet them, on winding through the numerous cañons and climbing to the mountain tops, which invite their inspection on every hand.

Every mountain gap or open cañon possesses charms which, once discovered, remain green in the memory forever. Towering rocks in grotesque shapes, vegetation of every shade and hue, evergreen and fern, rippling streams and roaring torrents, waterfalls and deep moss-bound pools, contribute to the enchantment of the visitor. An occasional deer or mountain lion, flocks of grouse, chirping squirrels, and shoals of mountain trout afford employment for gun and fishing rod; wild strawberries, grapes and clusters of elderberries tempt the fruit-gatherer; while wild roses, blue-bells, larkspurs, violets and primroses blossom in freshness on the hillsides, and fill the air with their fragrance.

The attractions of the Cottonwood cañons are most alluring to Salt Lake residents. The massive walls of granite, rising to stupendous heights on either side of the road, present varied forms and are grim and terrible in their silent grandeur. The rapids of the "Stairs," a few miles up Big Cottonwood, excite and bewilder the traveler, the water tumbling in wild confusion over the projecting rocks, foaming and roaring on its course to the broad fields in the valley

EYRIE.

below. The old sawmills, with overshot water wheels and piles of slabs, lumber and refuse lying around them, are pictur esque enough for the painter's eye, and enliven the dead silence of the road with a hum and buzz, that refresh and please the traveler, as he peers from the carriage doors upon the field of logs, scattered around and blocking up his way.

When the valley of Silver Lake, at the head of the cañon, is reached, the very climax of beauty in mountain scenery is attained. Interlaken is not more enchanting. The timber covered hills around are green and fragrant; the balsam odors from the pine groves, lading the cool, light air with healing sweets that invigorate and strengthen the system as nothing else can do. Great blocks of granite are strewn about the low, rolling hills which encompass the beautiful lake and lovely meadow. Small groups of pines rear their tops a hundred feet and more above the grassy plain; their shade affords the most delightful camping grounds that can be desired. The lake itself is a placid, deep blue body of water, about two miles in circumference. It is navigated by several small row boats, and is well stocked with the most delicious fish, a variety of small trout, extremely sweet and palatable; when fried to a crisp there is nothing more relishing.

Families in search of health or tourists of pleasure need go no farther. There both are secured. The excursions that may be made from Silver Lake as headquarters are numerous and varied in their attractions. Bridle paths lead out in every direction; penetrating the narrow defiles that lead farther up towards the eminent snow-clad summits, they discover new beauties of scenery every mile. Lakes of various magnitude, studded with granite boulders of enormous size, for islands, lie closely girt within walls of adamant, whose precipitous cliffs reach to the skies above. Once upon the dividing summit of the Cottonwoods, American Fork and Wasatch County cañons, a marvel of glorious landscape

greets the eye. Illimitable ranges of verdure-covered hills, relieved here and there with white glistening peaks spread out in all directions for miles around, while below an almost perfect circle is formed by the narrow, clear cut precipice which forms the dividing ridge. Within this circle a peak of granite raises aloft its venerable head. From the foundation depths of mother Earth it has come up to crown the wondrous works of Nature, and assert its patriarchal claim to be above all, as it is first of all in the formation of the globe. It is called Mount Eyrie; named by an adventurous and beautiful young lady, whose intrepidity led her to make its ascent. At the moment of reaching the top, and while thinking of a suitable name for the mount, an eagle rose from among the cliffs and, circling round above her head, seemed disposed to dispute the right of invasion of his eyrie home.

Down the Snake Creek gulch a few miles, the path turns and leads to the open valley of the Provo. Near the little town of Midway are springs of singular formation and great interest. The warm mineral waters containing the substances to compose their own enclosure, have sprung up, and flowing over the surface, have deposited, for generations past, the layers of lime sediment which now, heaped up in cones, completely wall in the deep wells of water, which are large enough for fine plunge baths, and even admit of swimming. In some of these curiously formed reservoirs the water has found an under current and disappeared, leaving them dry and open to relocation by the reptilian family. Several years ago the rattlesnakes of the neighborhood, taking advantage of this circumstance, took up their abode in one of these vacant wells or caves, as they came to be called, and there propagated largely, none daring to molest or make them afraid. On the occupation by settlers of the country around, the rendezvous of these dangerous neighbors was discovered, and warfare opened upon them. It took some time to entirely annihilate the hosts of venomous creatures that composed the colony; but finally

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the unrelenting arm of the white man, mostly cowboys, finished the work of extirpation, relieving the settlers of danger. A trip by horseback to these wells may be made from Silver Lake and return in a day.

Setting out in another direction, Bald Mountain may be crossed and the mines of Park City visited. It will be found a most enjoyable excursion, the scenery from the top of the mountain being very commanding and beautiful. A few years ago, a lady teacher of one of the city schools set forth upon this tour. She was well advanced in years, as lady teachers are, and of impaired eyesight; but she held to the abhorrence of men with the determination characteristic of her class. She had never seen the "mortal man" that could daunt her courage, which had marked out the solitary path of life she had chosen to pursue. Though Senators, Supreme Judges, and a defeated candidate for President had been at her feet, it was of no avail. Her resolution to live alone, teach and die had been taken, and no power should ever thwart her plans. Upon the journey she had undertaken to the Park she declined the companionship of any man, and there being no ladies to go with her, she strapped a long-necked bottle of strong tea to her shoulders, and with staff in hand, proceeded upon her journey, which was successfully performed, and the return commenced. As the level rays of the setting sun cast long shadows of trees and rocks over the barren sides of Bald Mountain, our heroine of the long-necked bottle (for so she became known) trudged lonely and happily on her way down the steep slope. The melancholy tingle of a distant cowbell was the only sound that broke the stillness of the departing day. Her soul was charmed with the sublimity of nature. There was nothing in all the landscape round that broke the harmony of her pure thoughts. She seemed wedded to nature. The reflection was delightful-herself and nature-alone. No man, no senator, no presidential candidate-but just herself and nature. Would that it might ever be thus! But a new element, gradually,

like a myth, arose in the dim horizon of the perfect picture of peace that met the gaze of our fair lady. A stalwart form, the form of a god it seemed to her uncertain vision, grew upon the retina of her enraptured eye. Being so much enamored of nature, is it any wonder that one of nature's sons should break the spell, and win the heart that

the civilized intrigue of cultivated man-made men had failed to conquer? Here stood before her a son of the mountains, clothed in buckskin, brown, rough, wild, grizzled, but a child of nature-a prospector-she loved him where he stood-he afterwards struck a lead and she married him. "Frailty thy name is woman!" Amalric.

THE lack of faith is one of the distinguishing traits of the age; one of its prominent sins. Yet, perhaps, it is hardly to be wondered at, considering how long and how often men have been deceived and befooled with false creeds and spurious gospels, that have had scarcely the form of Godliness, to say nothing of its power. This tendency to skepticism may be regarded as one of the natural results of the great apostacy, and its only cure is the preaching of the everlasting and unchangeable Gospel revealed in these last days. But even the preaching of the Gospel has indirectly had the tendency to increase this spirit of infidelity, for many who have heard its glad tidings but have not had sufficient honesty or courage to embrace it, have had their faith in their old dogmas and creeds so entirely shattered, that their only refuge and hiding place has been behind the dark platform of a system that teaches them that there is no God, no heaven, no hereafter, nothing but this present life, and that the material universe grew into existence by gradual development without a creator, and continues in all its beauty, harmony and perfection independent of a great all-wise governing power, or controlling hand. When men of thought, not entirely bound up in the traditions of the age, reject the Gospel as taught by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they reject Christianity, and have no place for the soles of their feet, except upon the platform of a vain philosophy which denies everything except what it claims to prove by reason and analogy, or in the mysticism

of spiritualism or spiritism, which makes men credulous in all things, except in those principles that have their foundation in the revelations of God. To believe too much or believe too little, are both equally dangerous and liable to deceive the human mind in its search after the truth.

Some men claim that to believe in special creations, is to believe in miracles, or divergences from the well understood laws of nature, which miracles they arrogantly assert, they never see manifested in this stage of the earth's existence. But if they do not believe in the eternity of matter they must necessisairly believe in one special creation, however insignificant, to commence with, and if they believe in one, why not in many? Is it any more difficult, from a philosophical standpoint, to believe in many creations than in one? We think not, but it is much more philosophical to believe in the eternity of matter and that each species-animal, plant, etc., has from eternity been bearing seed in itself after its kind, as it does now. To believe this requires no acceptance of miracles, though a miracle, as a general thing, is simply a manifestation of the laws of nature somewhat different to that usually presented before the eyes of mankind, and as men do not comprehend it, they have ascribed to it the convenient name of miracle, or dubbed it supernatural. And while we sincerely believe in what are familiarly termed miracles, we have not the slightest faith that anything that could be legitimately called supernatural ever occurred. It is a misnomer, for all