SYSTEM IN THE ASSOCIATIONS. THE longer the Improvement Associations live the more apparent does it become that a systematic order of exercises is necessary to secure the best results. Where there is no regular order of exercises, the meetings become mere entertainments for an hour, and programme committees are charged with the the duty of varying them from week to week, so that they will "draw" large audiences. In some places this appears to be the leading consideration in preparing the programmes. We have always thought this idea to be an erroneous one and regret that the disposition to pander to it is so widespread. We are striving in the Associations for substantial results. Our mission is to convert the young people of Zion from the evils that are manifest among us; evils of irreligion, intemperance, lightmindedness and folly of every description.

With this great obligation in view, it stands to reason that our labors should consist of something more than simply supplying an entertainment, for the people to be amused at for an hour or two in the week. The exercises upon which reports are required by the General Superintendency of the Y. M. M. I. A.,are of such a nature that if persistently engaged in, cannot fail to awaken an interest in the real studies of life. They are expressly designed to cultivate a taste for Scriptural and doctrinal investigations, and to direct the minds of the young men of Zion in channels of research, that will lead them to treasures of miscellaneous knowledge. A glance at the new Roll and Record Book which has lately been prepared for the Associations shows that, if the exercises are rendered and

the record is kept, future reports will exhibit the attendance at the meetings, the number of subjective lectures delivered under the following headings: Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Doctrinal, Church History, Historical, Scientific, Biographical, Political, Travel, Miscellaneous, and the number of Testimonies borne, Essays read, Declamations rendered, Musical exercises, Missionary appointments filled and Questions answered.

Let these exercises be found in every Association, in the varied forms in which they will naturally be delivered, and, if continued any length of time, they will show substantial progress in thought and wonderful improvement in the religious sentiment of our young people.

But it is outside of the meetings of the Associations where much good can be done, and where systematic work should be performed by officers and members. It is our duty by example and precept to save the erring; to turn the footsteps of those who are going astray into paths of virtue, temperance, honesty and gentleness; that there may be an end put to the damning sins of licentiousness, that occasionally crop out among our young people, and to drunkenness, dishonesty, and hoodlumism; all of which are reproaches upon us and are entirely foreign to the spirit and intent of the work in which we are engaged. Let us systematize our efforts to correct these evils and never rest until we succeed in rooting them out. The labor we perform on the outside in these directions will do more to fill up our meeting houses, and make the prescribed order of exercises interesting than any amount of ingenuity displayed by the programme committees, in their endeavors to please the fancy of the large congregations drawn together for the purpose of being amused.

ZION'S CHORAL UNION has been organized under the most favorable auspices, with bright promises for its future success, the first meeting being held in the City Hall, November 22nd. The combination of talent in its leading spirits

insures an organization that will be a pride to our music loving people. Prof. George Careless is the conductor, and Profs. E. Beesley and Evan Stephens assistants. The famous cantata, “Belshazzar," has been selected for the initial exercise. We wish the Choral Union lasting prosperity and a reign of perfect harmony.

In the September number of THE CONTRIBUTOR, Vol. VII., page 465, the writer upon "The Great Pyramid," falls into an error, using the following words: "I have been told that Apostle Orson Pratt, substituting the present English for the cubit inch, found that the step occurs at the inch marking one thousand eight hundred and thirty," etc. The reverse is true; Apostle Pratt, adhering to the Egyptian cubit, pursued his calculations so carefully, as to discover that the Pyramid measurement, indicated not only the year 1830, but the day and hour when the Church was organized at Fayette, New York.

A very gratifying indication that the spirit of improvement is increasing among is, is found in the organization of

has been a very large increase in the number of books in the Association libraries during the past year, and free reading rooms have been opened for the winter at Logan, Provo, Manti, Spanish Fork and a number of other settlements. In nearly ever town in the Territory these reading rooms might be established, and if properly conducted, would do a great deal of good. It is a credit to any town to have a pleasantly lighted and warmed room, where the people may assemble and read the current literature of the day, and study over the writings of the wise and learned of all ages. The Y. M. M. I. A., should take the lead in such enterprises and establish suitable rules for the maintenance of good order. We would suggest that a record of the number of volumes supplied to readers should be strictly kept. Such a record will be of great interest hereafter as indicating the relative increase of interest in the reading habit from year to year. The publishers of THE CONTRIBUTOR will take pleasure in sending a copy of the magazine gratis to all of the free reading rooms opened and conducted under the auspices of the Associations.

I.

HAVING been convicted in the court of the Third Judicial District of Utah, of unlawful cohabitation, and not being a "promising young man, I was sentenced one fine day in the autumn of 1885, to imprisonment in the Utah Penitentiary for six months, and to pay a fine of three hundred dollars and costs, the monetary part of the payment amounting in all to four hundred and twenty-five dollars. To this liberal dose of alleged justice—at that time, according to the "construction of the courts," the full penalty of the law-his honor Chief Justice Zane threw in, as an unsolicited gratuity, a severe lecture, the strictures of which were hurled at the writer and his religion, winding up with the

comforting assurance that both would yet be "ground to powder" under the wheel of the legal Juggernaut car, of which, for the time being, he appeared to be acting as teamster.

Before going to my winter residence, of which I was soon to become an inmate from necessity, I was permitted, in company of an officer, to call upon and bid adieu to those loved better than life. The parting was exceedingly painful on both sides, and it were better that upon that picture the veil of forgetfulness be dropped.

Before leaving the city I called upon my friend A. H. Cannon, who was very ill from a protracted attack of typhoid

fever. Much as I desired to see him I

regretted my visit, on account of the pain it caused him. The effect produced

upon him made it necessary for me to struggle hard to suppress my own emotions. Being weak from the effects of disease he did not possess that control over his feelings that he would have exercised had he been stronger. Taking my hand in his own, his great heart swelled with sympathetic kindness and, while the tears rolled down his cheeks, he murmured in broken accents; "I wish I could go in your stead.”

I had two companions in durance vile: Andrew Smith and Emil Olsen. Accompanied by a number of friends, we arrived at the prison about three o'clock in the afternoon. After taking our heights and weights and whatever valuables, in the shape of penknives and odd change, we had, we were ushered by the turnkey through the ponderous gate into the enclosure, which is nearly an acre in extent, the boundary being a thick wall, twenty feet high.

Andrew Smith and myself entered simultaneously. The greeting with which we were saluted was more than sufficiently demonstrative, yet to me it was strickingly unsatisfactory. This estimate was based on the fact that it was neither amiable nor complimentary. A crowd of convicts were congregated in the long, low wooden building where Uncle Sam's semi-cooked provisions were at feeding hours, discussed by his guests. As soon as the word passed around that "fresh fish"-as new arrivals are designated - had been delivered, there was a general scramble to get a sight of us. Then went up a terrific shout, which rent the air, so to speak, and sent a cold chill down my spinal column; not that I was afflicted with any sensation of timidity, but rather because my estimate of the quality of the company I would have to keep for half a year had received such a precipitate confirmation. Some of the gentler and more refined of the exclamations of our newly found friends were: "Kill him, d-n him! Hang him! Lynch him!"

Of course it quickly dawned upon me that those forcible but inelegant expressions of feeling were directed toward my companion, who in his capacity of

policeman, had not gained the unmitigated affection of the criminal class. Andrew seemed to take it as a matter of course, and we were soon surrounded by a number of friends, who had landed in the institution by the same path which had taken us to it. From them we received a loving greeting, although its expression was liable to be taken, except in the spirit of it, either of two ways. "We are sorry to see you here," they exclaimed. But we were there, and if they had not been in a position to see us they would have been somewhere else, which would have suited them precisely. It would also have suited us, for their sakes. So also would it have suited them for us not to be there, for our sakes.

Shortly after my instalment as a guest of the government I was called to the gate by direction of the Warden, in order that I might be completely initiated as a full fledged graduate. Mr. Curtis conducted me to the butcher shop, where he placed me in the hands of the barber. As I seated myself in a huge chair, which was singularly devoid of ornamentation, the Knight of the Scissors said:

"Shall I cut his hair?"

The turnkey took a birdseye view of my cranium, and seeing that the hirsute growth thereon was the reverse of abundant, he said:

"No. Take off his beard."

This facial adornment was one of the most luxuriant in Utah. The young man tied a string around it as near to the roots as practicable and slashed into it with a huge pair of scissors. At my request he wrapped it in a piece of paper that it might be preserved. Having been deprived of the privilege. of wearing it on the place designed by nature, I have ever since worn it in my trunk.

Not having previously shaved clean for over twenty years, the scraping process was not pleasant. However it was a slight improvement on grubbing sagebrush, and I uttered no complaint. If I had, it would have made no difference, as I was fully impressed with the considera

tion that that razor was being propelled by the entire population of the United States, so to speak, numbering "fiftyfive millions," more or less.

Some strange coincidents occur in a man's life. In conversation with the barber I discovered his identity. We will call him John Ricards, for convenience' sake. About twenty years before my shaving experience, while I was a missionary in Great Britain, I visited the house of his parents. He was at that time a small baby, and I have some recollection of taking him in my arms, being naturally fond of children. next time I met him was in the above described capacity.

The

As I passed out of the barber-butchershop into the outer court-yard I beheld Andrew Smith, seated on a bench. He had already undergone the barbarous process. His auburn beard was no more, and I was struck with the wealth of space his countenance exhibited when fully exposed to view. When he saw me, he seemed a little startled, and then broke into a laugh at my expense. His hilarity was pardonable.

I was taken into the Warden's office, a very small apartment in which the convicts' clothing was stored and where Mr. Dow also conducted the manufacture of young chickens by means of an incubator. I may here interpolate that he was quite successful in running this miniature chicken factory. There I was uniformed in government clothing, conspicuous for its encircling stripes of black and grey, causing the wearer to appear like one of the zebras of John Robinson's menagerie. After donning my new pantaloons, like every other man under similar circumstances, I made a dive with both hands for the pockets. One landed all right, but the other slid down my leg on the outside.

"There is only
one pocket," said Mr.

Curtis.

ings, while I was greeted with audible smiles from some of the brethren. Others expressed some degree of wrath in my behalf, but I felt very much like a sheep who had been shorn and left to shiver in the cold, and it is to be presumed that my expression bore some resemblance to that meek and gentle quadruped. It would not, however, have taken much to have made as radical a change in my feelings as had been made in my appearance. A trifling incitement would have created an active desire to kick somebody. If that revolution of sentiment had taken place, and an opportunity been afforded to hit the proper spot, it is doubtful if even the oft-quoted fifty-five millions would have prevented its vigorous administration.

When I re-entered the prison proper I stood by the corner of one of the build

At the time I became an inmate of the prison what is known as the dining hall, where the convicts take their meals, was a dingy and comfortless apartment. It is much more cheerful and more appropriately appointed now than then. Large skylights have been added, giving additional light, which was greatly needed. The room is fifty-four feet long by nineteen wide. The material used in its construction is simply inch weather boarding, nailed to a studding frame, the timbers being set at unusually wide distances apart. The height to the square is about seven feet six inches. There is no ceiling, the bare shingles being the only obstacle between the inmates and the heavenly expanse. The cross braces by which the frame of the roof is stayed are generally adorned with shirts, stockings, and articles of underwear generally, making the place smack somewhat of "Rag Fair," London. Occasionally from the same raised position a couple of "exalted soles"-hob-nailed attachments to a dilapidated pair of bootslook grimly down from where they are suspended.

No part of the interior is plastered, there being but an inch board to the weather. Here and there the thin walls are plastered over with gaudy pictures clipped from periodicals of the day, according to the taste or fancy of the convict whose seat happens to be near

For

the particular spot thus decorated. convenience' sake, little narrow shelves have been nailed to the wall, and on these are old fruit cans, the tin pint cup with which each convict is furnished, and other articles.

Against the wall, and skirting the entire room, at the height of an ordinary table, is a rough deal board, two feet wide. This serves for a table. Each convict fortunate enough to secure a place at this board is allotted a space of twenty-two inches in width, giving barely enough elbow room at meal times. The seating convenience at this table consists of a rough plank, two inches thick and eight inches wide, supported, a short distance outward from the side-table, upon uprights consisting of pieces of the same material. The seating space allotted to each is of the same length as and parallel with the tabular apportionment.

As over one hundred men sit down at each meal, the room is, as may well be imagined, at such times always crowded. Consequently the side-tables are far from being sufficient, and there are four or five large tables besides, ranged down the centre of the room. But they are not so popular with the convicts as the seats along the wall, owing to the latter perhaps being slightly more retired, if such a term could be appropriately used in connection with so great a crowd. At the table to which I was assigned, I had the pleasure of being sandwiched between George Romney and Andrew Smith. W. A. Rossiter and Edward Brain were also adjacent. At the evening meal of the first day the bench upon which the last named gentleman was seated gave away and he suddenly and involuntarily assumed a horizontal position, causing the solemn remark: "Behold the Brain of the penitentiary spread out on the floor." He was gathered up and demurely discussed his allowance of bread and sugarless tea in an attitude similiar to that maintained by the naughty boy of the story, who had undergone the operation known as "spanking."

The bill of fare was not ravishingly sumptuous. The morning meal con

sisted of two pieces of bread, a piece of meat dumped upon a tin plate, a couple of potatoes, and a tin pint cupful of alleged coffee, minus sugar and milk. The potatoes were not of the "mammoth" variety, but might properly have been classed as infinitessimals, with occasional exceptions. Like most of those whose duty it was to devour them, they were invariably "sad." This tendency to melancholy was superinduced by the fact that they were, owing to the smallness of the kitchen range, cooked the night previous. As a consequence they were generally about as mealy as a bar of Snell's Pale Sapone soap.

On alternate days the meat and pensive potatoes were substituted by a mysterious compound called hash. Not having any means of analysis I am unable to state its constituents. Owing to its inexplicability I generally gave it a wide berth. There was one man among the prisoners, however, who had acquired a deep affection for this particular dish. He was a young fellow with a large cavernous mouth, a face beaming with pimples in place of intelligence, and whose pantaloons were always tattered about the feet. Besides he always wore them so low down at the seat that it seemed as if it might act as a kind of hobble, to prevent him from taking strides of sufficient length to enable him to make a successful escape, had he attempted such a thing. Added to these characteristics he had a piping voice, whose mellifluous tones were heard every hash morning, singing: "Who's got any hash they don't want?" He collected great quantities, with which he would stuff himself until he became a sort of animated sausage.

I gazed upon this young man and wondered whether there might possibly be any other position in life for which he was adapted, besides those of convict and hash consumer, when I was struck with a brilliant idea. What a bonanza he would be to that class of sectarian Gospel-dispensers who, after a brief sojourn in Utah, transform themselves. into hairbreadth escape heroes, betake themselves to the East, where they