measures of destruction against these victims of their own fidelity, and
felt the dome above me impending like a brazen weight of national
resentment upon all our heads. When, a few years later, I stood before
the President's desk in the Senate chamber, to take my oath of office as
the representative of the freed people of Utah in the councils of the
nation, I raised my eyes to my old seat of terror in the gallery, and
pledged myself, in that remembrance, never to vote nor speak for
anything but the largest measure of justice that my soul was big enough
to comprehend. By such engagement I write now, bound in a double debt of
obligation to the nation whose magnanimity then saved us and to the
people whom I humbly helped to save.

Frank J. Cannon.



Under the Prophet in Utah



Chapter I



In the Days of the Raid



About ten o'clock one night in the spring of 1888, I set out secretly,
from Salt Lake City, on a nine-mile drive to Bountiful, to meet my