After long and confidential conferences with some of the professors who told me their views, and how they are struggling to maintain their academic freedom, and after long talks with bright, energetic boys and girls who expressed themselves freely, I could assure the Herr Director that some problems, which have so long vexed the United States and have threatened certain ideals of the American Spirit, are in process of solution. They are being solved by virtue of the broad tolerance of that spirit, than which nothing is so feared by the reactionary forces in the Mormon Church. One thing which that institution desires more than anything else is renewed persecution; not too much of it, but enough to rally the children of the martyrs to face new martyrdom and so perpetuate the waning power of the church. One must remember that Mormonism is not only a sect, but a strongly knitted society, and that men who have long ago ceased to believe in its doctrines still hold to it with a loyalty born of past suffering, which will be fostered by any future injustice or persecution. When we left Salt Lake City and were safe in the Pullman on our way to the Pacific Coast, the Frau Directorin put her stock question to the colored porter when he came to make up the berths. "How much wives you are?" When I interpreted the question for him he smiled his broadest smile, but looked puzzled. I told him that the lady thought him a Mormon. "_No, ma'am._ I's a Baptist. But I sho'd like to be one. I likes de ladies poheful." He was not a Mormon, certainly not a saint, but he rendered us loyal service on that long, dusty journey to the Coast. Perhaps because he "likes de ladies poheful," or it may have been because I gave him half of a generous tip in advance. XII _The California Confession of Faith_ Since landing in New York the Herr Director and the Frau Directorin had endured many a formal reception; she with angelic patience, and he with the usual masculine aversion to formal social amenities. When I announced that a reception was to be tendered us in San Francisco, he cried with uplifted hands, "_Um Gottes Willen!_" He did not object to really meeting people; but to stand in line an hour or two shaking hundreds of outstretched hands, not knowing nor caring much to whom they belonged, seemed to him a profitless exercise; while our wafers and tea, or our punch--without those ingredients which give the "punch" to punch--were gastronomic delusions to one accustomed to the abundant meat and drink attendant upon social occasions in Germany. This particular reception was to be given us by the Chinese, and a committee of stately, solemn looking gentlemen called for us in carriages; despite the Herr Director's reluctance, I am sure he was delighted to have this chance of giving his jaded social appetite a new sensation.