THE CITY OF THE SAINTS 



not over particular may be seen drinking from 

 them everywhere. 



The streets are remarkably wide and the 

 buildings low, making them appear yet wider 

 than they really are. Trees are planted along 

 the sidewalks — elms, poplars, maples, and a 

 few catalpas and hawthorns; yet they are 

 mostly small and irregular, and nowhere form 

 avenues half so leafy and imposing as one 

 would be led to expect. Even in the business 

 streets there is but little regularity in the 

 buildings — now a row of plain adobe struc- 

 tures, half store, half dwelling, then a high 

 mercantile block of red brick or sandstone, 

 and again a row of adobe cottages nestled back 

 among apple trees. There is one immense 

 store with its sign upon the roof, in letters big 

 enough to be read miles away, "Z.C.M.I." 

 (Zion's Cooperative Mercantile Institution), 

 while many a small, codfishy comer grocery 

 bears the legend "Holiness to the Lord, 

 Z.C.M.I." But Uttle evidence will you find in 

 this Zion, with its fifteen thousand souls, of 

 great wealth, though many a Saint is seeking 

 it as keenly as any Yankee Gentile. But on 

 the other hand, searching throughout all the 

 city, you will not find any trace of squalor or 

 extreme poverty. 



Most of the women I have chanced to meet, 



109, 



