The orders under which General Johnston was acting directed him to establish not more than three military posts within the Territory.  One of these was already fixed at Fort Bridger, and the question where the others should be located was now no less important to the Mormons than to the army.  The secret of the success of Mormonism is its exclusiveness, and of this fact the leaders of the sect are fully aware.  Accordingly, they now put forth most strenuous efforts to secure the removal of the troops to as great a distance as possible from their settlements.  But, wholly without regard to any understanding which they might have had with the Governor, General Johnston, after a careful reconnaissance, selected Cedar Valley, on the western rim of Lake Utah, separated from it only by a range of bluffs,—­about equidistant from Salt Lake City and Provo,—­for his permanent camp.  The army moved southward from the city on the 29th, but so slowly that it did not reach the Valley till the 6th of July.  Not a field was encroached upon, not a house molested, not a person harmed or insulted, by troops that had been so harassed and vituperated by a people now entirely at their mercy.  By their strict subordination they entitled themselves to the respect of the country as well as to the gratitude of the Mormons.

[To be continued.]

OUR SKATER BELLE.

  Along the frozen lake she comes
  In linking crescents, light and fleet;
  The ice-imprisoned Undine hums
  A welcome to her little feet.

  I see the jaunty hat, the plume
  Swerve bird-like in the joyous gale,—­
  The cheeks lit up to burning bloom,
  The young eyes sparkling through the veil.

  The quick breath parts her laughing lips,
  The white neck shines through tossing curls;
  Her vesture gently sways and dips,
  As on she speeds in shell-like whorls.

  Men stop and smile to see her go;
  They gaze, they smile in pleased surprise;
  They ask her name; they long to show
  Some silent friendship in their eyes.

  She glances not; she passes on;
  Her steely footfall quicker rings;
  She guesses not the benison
  Which follows her on noiseless wings.

  Smooth be her ways, secure her tread
  Along the devious lines of life,
  From grace to grace successive led,
  A noble maiden, nobler wife!

THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.

WHAT HE SAID, WHAT HE HEARD, AND WHAT HE SAW.

I don’t know whether our literary or professional people are more amiable than they are in other places, but certainly quarrelling is out of fashion among them.  This could never be, if they were in the habit of secret anonymous puffing of each other.  That is the kind of underground machinery, which manufactures false reputations and genuine hatreds.  On the other hand, I should like to know if we are not at liberty to have a good time together, and say the pleasantest things we can think of to each other, when any of us reaches his thirtieth or fortieth or fiftieth or eightieth birthday.