hout any help
from the Prophets. But without the help of the dominant party the
Prophets could not have renewed the rule of the state by the Church
could not have prevented the passage of a constitutional amendment
punishing polygamy by Federal statute--and could not have obtained such
intimate relation and commanding influence with the great "interests" of
the country.

Throughout all these miserable incidents, I had a vague hope that
they would prove merely temporary and peculiar to the term of Snow's
presidency. He was now in his eighty-sixth year. My father was next in
succession for the Presidency, and he was seventy-three. He had remained
personally faithful to every pledge that he had made to the nation, and
though he had been powerless to prevent the breaches of covenant that
had followed the sovereignty of statehood, I knew that he had opposed
some of them and been a willing party to none. It is true that he had
become a director of the Union Pacific Railway and was close to the
leading financiers of the East; but his Union Pacific connection had
come from the fact that he had been one of the builders of the road
that had afterward merged in the Oregon Short Line; and his financial
relations had been those of a financier and not a politician. In all the
years that I had been working with him, I had never known him to have
any purpose that was not communistic in its final aspect and designed
for the good of his people.

Up to his seventieth year, he had shown no ill result of his early
hardships. Living the abstemious life of the orthodox Mormon, to whom
wine, tobacco and even tea and coffee are prohibited, he had seemed
inexhaustibly robust and untiring. But almost from the day of
President's Snow accession to office--deprived of the sustaining
consciousness of the responsibilities of leadership--his physical
strength gave signs of breaking. In the fall of 1900 he made a trip
to the Sandwich Islands, to recuperate, and to assist at the fiftieth
anniversary of the Mormon mission that he had founded there; but the
Utah winter proved too rigorous for him on his return, and in March,
1901, he was taken to California--to Monterey. In April the word came to
me in New York that he was sinking.

I found him in a cottage overlooking the beautiful Bay of Monterey and
its wooded slope; and the doctors in attendance told me that he had been
kept alive only by the determination to see me before he died. There
was no hop