One circumstance, however, attracted
particularly our attention; it was, that, rich or poor, the Mormon
planters had superior cattle and horses, and that they had invariably
stored up in their granaries or barns the last year's crop of everything
that would keep. Afterwards I learned that these farmers were only
stipendiary agents of the elders of the Mormons, who, in the case of a
westward invasion being decided upon by Joe Smith and his people, would
immediately furnish their army with fresh horses and all the provisions
necessary for a campaign.
One morning we met with a Texan constable going to arrest a murderer. He
asked us what o'clock it was, as he had not a _watch_, and told us that
a few minutes' ride would bring us to Boston, a new Texan city. We
searched in vain for any vestiges which could announce our being in the
vicinity of even a village; at last, however, emerging from a swamp,
through which we had been forcing our way for more than an hour, we
descried between the trees a long building, made of the rough logs of
the black pine, and as we advanced, we perceived that the space between
the logs (about six inches) had not been filled up, probably to obtain a
more free circulation of air. This building, a naked negro informed us,
was Ambassadors' Hall, the great and only hotel of Texan Boston.
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