months. The whole Country, was covered with flowers, and all of
them unknown to us except in greenhouses. Every bird that I know
at home is represented here, but in gayer plumes.

On the plains we saw multitudes of antelopes, hares, gophers,--
even elks, and one pair of wolves on the plains; the grizzly
bear only in a cage. We crossed one region of the buffalo, but
only saw one captive. We found Indians at every railroad
station,--the squaws and papooses begging, and the "bucks," as
they wickedly call them, lounging. On our way out, we left the
Pacific Railroad for twenty-four hours to visit Salt Lake;
called on Brigham Young--just seventy years old--who received us
with quiet uncommitting courtesy, at first,--a strong-built,
self-possessed, sufficient man with plain manners. He took early
occasion to remark that "the one-man-power really meant all-
men's-power." Our interview was peaceable enough, and rather
mended my impression of the man; and, after our visit, I read in
the Descret newspaper his Speech to his people on the previous
Sunday. It avoided religion, but was full of Franklinian good
sense. In one point, he says: "Your fear of the Indians is
nonsense. The Indians like the white men's food. Feed them
well, and they will surely die." He is clearly a sufficient
ruler, and perhaps civilizer of his kingdom of blockheads ad
interim; but I found that the San Franciscans believe that this
exceptional power cannot survive Brigham.

I have been surprised--but it is months ago--by a letter from
Lacy Garbett, the Architect, whom I do not know, but one of whose
books, about "Design in Architecture," I have always valued.
This letter, asking of me that Americans shall join Englishmen in