ation" is the opposite of creation. It is sufficient to reply that the doctrine of annihilation finds no support whatever in the teachings of science, or in the declarations of the Bible, and, consequently,

the idea of a creation of all things out of nothing has no such foundation either. We admit that if matter can be destroyed, annihilated, it can be created in the absolute sense. T. W. Brookbank.

I.

THE morning was clear and cool and delicately fragrant with the incense of countless flowers still moist with dew; and over the awakening city's hum of wheels and industry rose sweeter sounds, the twitter of sparrows and the call of the cherry-searching robin.

Mrs. Mason sat in her pretty dining room, alone, excepting for the babe just fallen asleep upon her arm, her larger children played outside beneath a summer bower, her husband was gone to his business and her maid of all work was away upon an errand. Gentle and serious thoughts passed through her mind, a quiet review of some teachings of the past, in her girlhood's home, regarding the future work of her people, the Latter-day Saints. She was planning a little, too, for the morrow, Sunday at the Tabernacle.

Her eyes rested in pleasant abstraction upon the honeysuckles that draped the porch; reminiscences and calculations were blending and gliding into daydreams, stealing the morning moments away, until they might have lasted no knowing how long-presumably until baby stirred-when suddenly the humming birds darted over the doorway, a light, firm step sounded along the clean walk, and a moment later a fair, timid face appeared at the door.

A sweet, modest face, a hesitating step and faltering voice, as the stranger bowed and entered the room by the invitation of the lady. In reply to the questioning look, she asked with embarrassment: "Do you wish to hire a girl to do housework?" "No, my dear, I am supplied." "Do you know, Ma'am, of any good place in the city where I could get a situation?" she ventured a

little more confidently, encouraged by the kind voice and manner of the lady. "I do not at present think of one. My girl may be able to assist you when she comes, she is acquainted with a number of young persons so employed, and sometimes a chance occurs to get the place of someone who is going home awhile. But, are you not very young, and a stranger here; and is there a necessity for your leaving home?" "I am seventeen and have a home, but we need some things, mother and I, and I wanted to try and earn some money. Mother made me promise not to go among those outside of our faith if I could help it, and this is the first place I have tried." "My dear, are you a Latter-day Saint? and how did you know whether this would be the right kind of place, such as your mother desired?" "I was born in the Church, and I felt as though one of our people lived here."

Mrs. Mason looked down and sighed. The thought of this young girl drifting to and fro through a strange city, to be led, no telling where, seemed dreadful to her. The girl's delicate and modest beauty seemed only to enhance the possible danger, where innocence is no guard, but irresistibly attracts the deliberate distroyer.

Then, noticing a look of weariness upon the stranger's face, she gently asked: "Will you have something to eat, you look tired?" The disappointed girl arose to go. "Tell me please, where you came from?" The girl gave the name of a town south of the city, and Mrs. Mason pleasantly replied: "My girl, Mary Long, is from there, you may know her, ah, here she is!" and after hearing Mary's report, the mistress withdrew, leaving the two acquaintances ex

changing happy salutations and inquiries. A few moments later the stranger passed out of the gate, and the day passed on in its usual calm and order. At supper time, again the knock was heard, Mary went to the door, and seemed in anxious consultation, then hesitatingly invited the person in, and quietly introduced her to her mistress. The girl looked pale and troubled. "Come said Mrs. Mason and have some supper with us?" The timid stranger politely declined. “But I can't enjoy my supper when anyone is sitting aside like that, come, you're perfectly welcome," and thus urged she

came.

Mrs. Mason clearly discerned failure and trouble in the case, and kindly added: "Lena, you had best stay with Mary to-night, and perhaps tomorrow you will have better success; at any rate, feel at home here for a day or two while you are trying."

The grateful look raised to her face as Lena thanked her, revealed how much anxiety was relieved by her simple kindness. Shortly after supper Mary came in from the kitchen and told her mistress, "tis the first meal she has eaten to-day, the girl had to be at the station by daylight, to catch the train, and Lena lost her lunch in her hurry, and has walked all day without food. She is so tired, I told her not to wait for me, but to go to my room to bed." "Poor girl," sighed Mrs. Mason. "I'm so thankful, ma'am you let her stay, she did not know where to go, and came to ask me what she should do." "I am glad she came back here; going to a lodging house would have been very unwise, when there are our own people to apply to," and Mrs. Mason passed on up stairs.

Mary's door had swung ajar, and before the low couch, the lady saw the kneeling figure of the girl, and heard a stifled sob. She went on and reflected for nearly half and hour, and then returned and entered the little bedroom. Fast asleep from fatigue and anxiety, with pale, tear-wet cheeks, resting on her fair arm, the stranger reposed safe from fear, yet now and then sighing even in her sleep. Mrs. Mason sat down beside her and looked long upon the

youthful figure and tender face, thinking of the homesick longing the brave heart endured, and the stern struggle, all for a few dollars. She thought of certain young girls who had come with the same honest purpose, and shuddered to think where they were now, and of the home sorrow of parents, brothers and sisters, their sorrow, shame and despair for the lost daughters. She pictured to herself the home that possibly Lena had left; the low, adobe house, the old orchard of peach and apple trees, spreading wide their laden branches, whose yield would be carefully dried and taken to the country store; the long, hedge-like rows of native currants, black and yellow, and the green lucerne pasture for the cow. She imagined the dusty, country road with weed-bordered sidewalks, the plain schoolhouse where Lena had learned her few lessons, the meetinghouse and the little store. These surroundings were perhaps the world of Lena's past, all she had known, until to-day, this Utah born girl; and to-day she had learned, no doubt, more of anxiety and distress of mind than in all her life before. Then she thought of Lena's mother. Was that mother now sleeping soundly as her absent child? Her own heart answered her no, Lena's mother was sleepless this night, wondering where and in whose care her young child's life was sheltered; that at the same hour Lena knelt weary and disheartened within the gay, thronged, selfish, indifferent city, Lena's mother knelt long before the same great throne beseeching the Father to watch over the far away child. As the lady studied the face, so much more like a child's than a woman's, she felt thankful that the wanderer was in her care. "To-morrow I will talk more

to her and let her feel that I am her friend, for oh, it is a fearful risk that innocence dares alone in a strange city and among her people's foes. I must try and get a proper place for her and not leave it to herself."

Mary's step coming along the lower hall roused her from her reverie, and she left the room, quickly passing into her own. If Mrs. Mason held her babe more closely

to her heart that night, we know the secret. When she entered the dining-room next morning she glanced around as though seeking some one, and Mary noting the glance, said: “Lena would not stay to breakfast, I persuaded her to eat a biscuit and drink some milk, and told her if she didn't find a place to-day, to come back to-night, I knew you would be willing, ma'am." "Certainly," replied Mrs. Mason with evident disappointment in her tone, "and when she comes again I want to see her, remember Mary."

Night came and brought Lena, she had found a situation, but among persons not of her own faith, and where several men, employees of her master, boarded. Mrs. Mason knew that Lena would be brought in contact with them, in her duties at table, and gave her good advice as to her deportment among them; if any disrespectful allusions were made to her people or their faith, to avoid any bantering argument in reply, and command their respect by her own reserve and maidenly dignity; also that on our streets were persons ever on the alert to misconstrue a look or laugh, and ready to approach with impertinent familiarity the unguarded; exhorted her to remember her daily prayers and asked her to feel at liberty to come and confide in her if occasion ever required a friend's advice. Lena thanked the lady with sincere gratitude and love, and that night knelt with them in their family circle and slept again beneath the same roof, this time the sleep of untroubled peace.

By early morning she was away and installed in the duties of her new home. Anxious to learn everything required of her, her mind was for several days fully occupied, then came occasions of leisure or opportunities when general conversation could not but be noticed. The first thing that weighed upon her spirit was the absence of family prayers and the omission of a blessing upon the food at table. This seemed so perilous a way of living that Lena felt almost self-condemned in remaining, but found relief to her own feelings by attending to her own

religious duties faithfully. If during breakfast the master chose to read aloud between his sips of coffee, scraps of malicious misinformation from the morning paper, regarding the early settlers and the more prominent persons of this Territory, Lena listened in silence and pondered how much it cost her, the money she was earning, to gain it at such a price. When noble men, whose whole lives were as household stories to her, were defamed in her hearing, how she longed for the time when such tongues and such pens should be awed into silence and humility.

When righteous women, whose names and characters she revered as little less than those of angels, were flippantly tossed from tongue to tongue with sacreligious falsehood, her heart swelled and her eyes filled in spite of her studied self-control. O country mothers, would you not keep your daughters home could you but know the spirits of evil they must meet?

They had not asked her if she was a Mormon girl, they seemed to know it she thought, and did not regard her feelings. Often she weighed the matter in her mind, whether to stay longer or go home. "Tis about the same with most of the places," said one of her friends to her, "but we just pass it by, we can go home when we get ready to go, that's one consolation." So the fact of not being alone in trial, helped her to bear it a little longer; "just till I get a sewing machine for mother and a few little things she needs; something too for little Dick, then I'll go home," she thought. One day the warfare seemed harder than usual. She had heard her mistress and visitors freely relating domestic matters, and marital infidelites and infelicities, nay, more, matters maternal, that seemed a dreadful revelation of life to her pure, untainted mind; and then later in the day conversation turned some slurring allusions to Mormon wives and daughters. Lena's eyes flashed, self control was thrown away, and she answered fearlessly: "My mother is a plural wife, and after what I have heard here to-day, she is pure as an angel beside

are in the Elfin Ramble, a vast, open plateau, estimated to be five hundred feet in length, by three hundred in breadth. Passing through this we reach Pluto's Chasm. It yawns at our feet in a startling way, attaining a depth of seventy-five feet and a length of five hundred. At the bottom of the chasm, some distance to our left, is the Spectre, a tall, white, fluted stalactite, bedecked about its upper part with a fringe of snowy draperies. Taking the main route the guide now conducts us to that part of the cave called Skeleton George, where in a small ravine are found imbedded in drip-stone the real bones of a man. Descending by a stairway we are brought face to face with the object of our search-the skeleton. Only a few of the larger bones of the leg, part of the skull, and a few vertebrae remain in sight; and these are held firmly in the grip of the stone which has formed over the rest. The next objects of interest are Giant's Hall, Titania's Veil-a marvel of beauty, Saracens Tent, and the Fallen Column. The latter a fragment of what it was formerly, but still a monster, is twelve feet in diameter by twenty in length, and of an age estimated by some scientists at millions of years.

Passing beneath the Fallen Column and beyond the snow-white Angel's Wing, we approach the Organ, upon which the guide performed an air, by rapping its pipes with a small wooden instrument. Leaving several objects of minor importance, we at length emerge into a large open space, nearly circular and magnificently furnished with all that is striking and attractive in cave scenery. This apartment known as the Ball Room, is the lowest in the cave, being two hundred and sixty feet beneath the surface. Several grand balls have been given here, and three marriage ceremonies performed, but in reply to a question by a visitor as to how any divorces had been granted, the guide said there had not been many. In one of the rooms adjoining the Ball Room is Collins Grotto, named in honor of Jerome J. Collins, one of the officers of the ill-fated Jeannette Arctic Expedition, who spent

two days in exploring the cave, and writing descriptive accounts of the same for the New York Herald. This Grotto is rich in formations of rare and curious shapes, among which the Dragon is especially interesting. On our return from the Grotto we stopped to examine the Bird's Nest, a cavity in the rock containing, formerly, three but now only one beautiful white egg, formed from drops of lime-laden water falling from the ceiling. Other objects of interest in this vicinity are the Tombs of the Martyrs, the Vaults, the Lady's Riding Whip, the Idols, the Conical Shot, and Cinderella's approach to the Ball Room.

On making our exit we enter Campbell's Hall, which answers to the highest conception of the ornamental in cave scenery, since here, to a remarkable degree, the formations retain their original beauty. The Camel's Head, the Handkerchief, the Wet Blanket-the latter a marvelous piece of imitative stone-and the Fruit and Flower Baskets are also encountered, but we have seen enough for once and are quite willing to return to the surface for needed rest and reflection, having been for the space of two hours engaged in our observations. There are also some attractive features to be seen of interest to the Bible student, such as Abraham offering his son Isaac on the altar, Hagar gazing pensively at her famished child, the Tower of Babel, etc. The wonderful region of Hades, with its beautiful waters, Lake Lethe and Lake Lee, are also very attractive. A matter of interest in this locality is an abyss to which no bottom has yet been found. Mr. A. J. Campbell was once let down into it a distance of seventy-five feet, but without finding its lower limits. The Castle on the Rhine, the Sleeping Child and the Lady's Shawl, are also worthy of notice.

It is impossible to estimate correctly the age of the cave or its formations. The guide informed us that a tumbler placed under one of the dripping stalactites at the time of the cave's discovery, eight years previous, had not increased sufficiently to be visible to the natural eye. Since 1881 the cave has been