THE DIXIE OWE sen, where did you get those trousers? Stammering and yet defiant Isaac related the story of the sheep tails. The Bishop surveyed the trousers critically, a bit covetously. You did wrong Brother Jensen, you have committed a theft. That wool belonged to the Order, he said. There was a painful silence and then the Bishop continued slowly, Well Brother Jenson since you have the trousers, I guess well let you keep them, providing (Isaac shivered) providing youll let the women take them for a pattern they seem to fit pretty well. Isaac gave a relieved consent and hurried back to Jane to whom he constantly grew comber and more pleasing. He felt now that his misery was over, he had made peace with the Bishop and the trousers were his. But were they there was the Bishop again approaching him, and this time he was not alone, Alvin Anderson was with him. They stood and regarded the new trousers in which Isaac fidgetted uneasily. Then the Bishop spoke, Brother Jenson, (Isaac choked) Brothei- Anderson would like to wear those trousers to Kanab tomorrow, he is going over to con- ference. Isaacs hands fumbled in his new pockets and he blinked what should he wear while the trousers were gone? But Jane glanced admiringly up at him, her eyes showed that she thought Isaac was greatly honored by being able to loan to the authorities of the Order, and she squeezed his arm. Then Isaac sensing the import of the squeeze, and inwardly vowing that his trousers should not be gone more than three days, gave an amiable consent to the loan, whereupon the Bishop ahd Alvin departed, leaving Isaac happy in the possession of both Jane and the trousers. Venice Hopkins. Old Pioneer Song Ye Pioneers lifes We bid farewell to Goulds place; Who lived not talked your Exploring we are bound; Instead of taking a straight philosophy Who left your cots neath the Northern Lights and by the Irish Sea To a land of blazing skies and fiercer sands to come Where cactug pierced the unwary foot and lizards made their course We circled round and round. The rocks they were so high. And the hills they were so steep, We could hardly find a level place To lay us down to sleep. home. And, when we found a level place, The rain fell so like sin We might as well been in the creek At least up to our chin; And when the rain let up Here came a ducid guard And called us out on duty, I think its pretty hard. We clambered up the clay hill; The compass we had boxed; We clambered over mountain, And canyons full of rocks. This trip would try a Quaker, It cannot be denied, And the old white horse of Pock-etvil- nor-wee- Ye loved this land unto living life not by your words but deeds, Until the desert blossomed as the rose in Sharons Vale Till we your childrens children felt we must not, could not fail, Our fathers who though bare of hand, with an unquailing eye windFaced a thorn-strewto win or swept desert there n, die. That theyd never drove a pack le Fell off the cliff and died. We traveled through the Where lava black neer foothold gave to man, nor beast quaken-asp- s And over fallen pines; We bursted open cracker sacks. And the flour we strewed behind. Some animals got off the track; The boys they madly swore mule Through such a place before. I wish I had a clean shirt, I wish I had some shoes, And my old mule was fat, And I didnt have the blues. If ever I get home again, Contented Ill remain And never go exploring Till called upon again.