“Echo Canyon,” “A Glimpse of the Valley,” and “Over the Little Mountain”

OVER THE LITTLE MOUNTAIN. The Old Trail. The mountain is steep, the road is edged with chokecherry trees and clumps of ancient shrub oak. The road is now unused; what once had been ruts, made by the wheels of wagons, are changed by rain and flood into deep-cut gullies. It is a place where in the spring months the air is fragrant with the exhalations from millions of snow-white blossoms, and in summer, where on the branches of the choke-cherry trees, clusters of crimson, wild fruit hang. This place is now historic. Below the Little Mountain lies Emigration Canyon. Down that piece of road passed the Pioneers of 1847. At the road's steepest part, near "The Summit," and where it is crossed by ledges of stone, littered with boulders and shale, that once tore the iron from the cattle's feet, I found an ox-shoe. The relic had lain there long; perhaps since the passing of that first company of Pioneers! It was much worn, it had seen good service. Perhaps it had pressed the wearisome miles of

• tm road from the Missouri river to the spot where it had lain so long. Blue arched the sky over the Little Mountain, there was stillness around. I tried to dream the historic day. I tried to realize how the Pioneers repeated a silent prayer of thankfulness in their hearts, if they uttered not a hymn of praise aloud. This I tried to do. I tried to see in my mind's eye the travelworn men and women. I tried to realize how they rejoiced after the hardships passed, and looked forward, if with care yet with hope, to the future. ALFRED LAMBOURNE.

"A GLIMPSE OF THE VALLEY." The last outline in my battered sketch-book. The descendants of the Pioneers can hardly imagine the days when the long train of dustcovered wagons, or the Pony Express, or the lumbering stage-coach formed the quickest transport between the inter-mountain region and "The States." It would be hard for them to imagine the feelings of the emigrant when, after the long, arduous "Journey," he looked upon the scene! As we are now whirled along over the Laramie Plains, or through the Weber Canyon, or through the Castle Gate, or across the Sierra Nevada, riding in luxuriously-cushioned seats, it would be well to do justice to the intrepid Pioneer. Danger and fatigue were all forgotten. The stubborn interminable miles were conquered, "The Journey" was at an end.—From "The Old Journey," by Alfred Lambourne.

Truth. BY LOUIS W. LARSEN. There is nothing so persistent as truth. Though crushed, as it often is, 'neath a mountain of falsehood and error, it will work its way relentlessly upward, till it mounts the very summit, freed from the shackles that would keep it hidden in the darkness. Truth always wages her warfare openly; error is intriguing and deceitful. Truth conquers by sheer strength, and her victories are eternal: error scores but temporary victories, for she can hold her ground only till she has exhausted her stock of wicked dissimulation. The one brandishes her glittering sword in the blaze of the noonday sun; the other works her dark designs stealthily, under cover of night. "Truth is the summit of being." It is the normal status of things; while error is a perversion, a disturbance, that must and will finally be adjusted. It is said that a planet moves smoothly in its course, but violently to its course. The same is true of a fact, when distorted it works havoc. Ruin and dissolution always follow in the wake of the conquests of evil; but righteousness must ultimately bear sway, when all things will be restored to their normal equanimity. There are unseen forces that work ever silently and persistently for the restitution of right and the overthrow of wrong. Triumph and supremacy are vital, inherent qualities of truth. So it must achieve victory in the end. To think of its being utterly annihilated or permanently defeated would be paradoxical. Our prophet said, "Every principle prcceeding from God is eternal, and any principle which is not eternal is of the devil." This assurance should be cheering to all who labor for the cause of right. We should be hopeful even in the darkest stage of the battle, when the odds are all against us, aye, when we suffer the humiliation of appareat defeat, for we know that the end is not yet; that in the last great struggle our cause will be gloriously vindicated, and that our heads will wear the laurels that endure forever. "The lying of others cannot hurt us long, it always carries with it our exoneration in the end." Burlington, Vermont.