Noticing this, Mrs. Livingston thinks it just as well that her _protegee_ sees no more of the Western mining man, and is rather relieved when Mr. Chauncey informs her Captain Lawrence has departed for Tintic, and will not return for several days. Then they take a long drive about the city, the hackman condescendingly acting as _cicerone_ to the party, and pointing out the Tabernacle and the proposed Temple, the foundations of which have just been laid, and the Endowment House and the Tithing Office, and the Beehive and Lion House, in which Brigham Young, the president of the Latter-Day Saints, keeps the major portion of his harem; though he has houses and wives almost all over the Territory. Next, coming down from Eagle Gate, they pass the Mormon theatre with its peculiar classic front made up of two different kinds of Greek architecture, and so on to East Temple Street, by Godby's drug store, and the great block of Zion's Mercantile Co-operative Institution, till they come to Warden Bussey's Bank, upon which Erma and Mr. Livingston have letters of credit. So they enter here, draw some money, and are kindly received by Mr. Bussey himself, their letters from the East bringing them favor in this Gentile banker's eyes, who has just made a large fortune by speculating in Emma stock. He shows them over the new banking-house he has just erected, and tells them he is going to open it with a grand ball, and hopes they will come to the same; remarking that Mrs. Bussey will call upon them and do all she can for their entertainment during their stay in this Western city. Then they return to the Townsend House, but during all this drive, though Erma Travenion's eyes, which are quite far-sighted, have searched the passing crowd of speculators, Mormons and Western business men, seeking for one form and one face--her father's--she has not seen it. As the afternoon passes she becomes more impatient, and says, "I have lost a day in which his dear face might have been beside me." Then an idea coming to her, she mutters: "Why did I not think of it before? I will go where I address my father's letters; there they will know where he is." And calling a hack, says to the driver, "The Deseret Co-operative Bank!" Arriving there, shortly before the hour of closing, three o'clock, she hurriedly asks the paying-teller if he can tell her the address of Mr. Ralph Travenion. To her astonishment, the man answers quite politely that he does not know the individual. "Why, I have directed a hundred letters to him here," she says hurriedly, surprise in her voice, and a moment after asks: "Can I see the cashier or the president?" "Certainly. The president is in." In an inner office, she meets the head of the bank, and to her question as to whether he knows the address of Ralph Travenion, he hesitates a moment--then answers that they frequently have letters addressed to their care, though they do not always keep run of the parties who call for them.