_How the Saints Were Brought to Repentance_ He put his torch to the tinder of irreligion at the first Sunday meeting after his return.

There were no premonitions, no warnings, no signs.
A few of the Elders had preceded him to rejoice at the escape of the last hand-cart party from death in the mountains; and Brigham, after giving the newcomers some practical hints about their shelter during the winter now upon them, had invited Elder Rae to address the congregation.
He arose and came uncertainly forward, apparently weak, able hardly to stand without leaning upon the desk in front of him; his face waxen and drawn, hollowed at the cheeks and temples, his long hands thin to transparency.

Life was betrayed in him only by the eyes.

These burned darkly, far back under his brows, and flashed fiercely, as his glance darted swiftly from side to side.
At first he spoke weakly and slowly, his opening words almost inaudible, so that the throng of people before him leaned forward in sympathetic intentness, and silence became absolute in the great hall except for the high quavering of his tones.

But then came a miracle of reinvigoration.