Richard Francis Burton

Richard Francis Burton

Summary

Portrait of Richard Francis Burton Richard Francis Burton The City of the Saints (1862)

We then fell into a saline resembling freshly-fallen snow. The whiteness changes to a slaty blue, like a frozen pond when the water still underlies it; and, to make the delusion perfect, the black rutted path looked as if lately cut out after a snow-storm. Weird forms appeared in the moonlight. A line of sand-heaps became a row of railroad cars; a raised bench was mistaken for a paling; and the bushes were any thing between a cow and an Indian. This part of the road must be terrible in winter; even in the fine season men are often compelled to unpack half a dozen times.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Richard Francis Burton Richard Francis Burton The City of the Saints (1862)

To the north, or before us, and far below, lay a long broad stretch, white as snow—the Saleratus Desert, west of the Great Salt Lake. It wore a grisly aspect in the silvery light of the moon. Behind us was the brown plain, sparsely dotted with shadows, and dewless in the evening as in the morning. As the party ascended the summit with much noisy shouting, they formed a picturesque group—the well-bred horses wandering to graze, the white-tilted wagons with their panting mules, and the men in felt capotes and huge leather leggins.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Richard Francis Burton Richard Francis Burton The City of the Saints (1862)

If men who are called to speak before a congregation rise full of the Holy Spirit and power of God, their countenances are sermons to the people. But if their affections, feelings, and desires are like the fool's eye to the ends of the earth, looking for this, that, and the other, and the kingdom of God is far from them and not in all their affections, they may rise here and talk what they please, and it is but like sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal—mere empty, unmeaning sounds to the ears of the people.
Source: Wikisource

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