"One only," remarks Harry. "The Salt Lake _Tribune_,--the Gentile newspaper." "Then you can do me a favor," returns Erma. "My father apparently has not received my telegram. Would you take care that a notice of my arrival is inserted prominently in that paper, so that if papa is in town, he will see it; if in any of the mining camps or settlements about here, it may reach his eye. The sooner I behold him, the happier I shall be." "Any request from you will be a command to me," says Lawrence, eagerly. "The announcement shall be made in the _Tribune_, but it cannot be until to-morrow morning. If I can aid you in any other way, please do not fail to call upon me." To this he adds hurriedly: "I shall leave town early this afternoon for Tintic Mining District, but shall return in three days." "Very well," answers the young lady. "Do not forget that we stop at the Townsend House, where I shall always be most happy to see you." She emphasizes her invitation by so cordial a grasp of the hand, and Harry returns it so heartily, that Mr. Oliver Livingston pulls down his immaculate shirt-cuffs in anguish and rage. This is not decreased by Ferdie's admiring remark: "Ain't the Cap a high stepper!" as the party step into the carriage and drive away. They are soon at the corner of West Temple and South Second Streets, and find themselves in front of a rather rambling two-story house with an attic attachment, at this time the principal hotel in Salt Lake City, for in 1871 the Walker House is not yet built. It has a generally yellow appearance, though its windows are protected from the sun by green Venetian blinds. Alighting here, Miss Travenion is informed that Mrs. Livingston is not yet up, and going to her room, lies down, it being still quite early in the day, while her maid unpacks her trunks and arranges her dresses. Though fatigued by her long railroad trip, sleep does not come to Erma, for thoughts of her father are upon her; and after a little, growing anxious on this subject, she springs up, and says: "I'll look for him!" So, making a hasty but effective toilet, robed in a dainty summer dress, the girl stepping to the window, looks out and cries: "How pretty!" for she is gazing upon Salt Lake City on an October day, which is as beautiful as any day can be, save a May day, when there is a little less dust on the streets and a little more water in the rivulets that course through them. All round her are houses embowered in green foliage, and broad streets, also planted with trees, and streams of living water, fresh from the melting snows of the Wahsatch, coursing by their sidewalks where gutters would be in ordinary towns.