"Oh, no tellin'," rejoins Lot, his eyes following Miss Travenion's light form, as do likewise those of his companions, for the girl, robed as she is in the creation of some New York milliner, makes a picture of maiden loveliness seldom seen in the streets of Salt Lake City in 1871; Mormon women, as a rule, not being over fair to look upon, and the few Gentile ladies in that town being mostly married to gentlemen whose business has brought them to Utah. "I am simply astonished, Erma," remarks Mr. Livingston, as they get out of ear-shot, "that knowing, as you know now, that this man is a Mormon, a polygamist, you even notice him, much less address him on the public streets." "I merely asked him where my father was," replies the girl rather haughtily. "I would ask any man that--to get one minute nearer my dear papa." Then she walks silently by his side; Oliver sporadically attempting to keep up the conversation, until they arrive at the pretty little Episcopal church on First South Street, where they get such an edifying sermon from Bishop Tuttle, who is assisted by the Rev. Mr. Kirby in the service, that Mr. Livingston is quite delighted. "Who would have thought it! They even have altar-boys out here. I shall leave my card on the Bishop at once," he remarks, as the congregation is dismissed. "Why not see him immediately?" suggests Miss Travenion; which they do, and she has an opportunity of asking the Right Reverend Mr. Tuttle if her father, Mr. Ralph Travenion, is not one of his communicants, and is much surprised and disappointed to learn that the Bishop has never heard of the gentleman she names. Returning from church, after dinner Ferdie, who is anxious, as he expresses it, to see Mormonism in its glory, induces them to go to afternoon services in the Tabernacle. Under its vast dome, many thousands of the elect of Utah listen to a discourse from one high up in the Mormon priesthood, who tells them that women who bear not children are accursed, and goes so into the details of the "Breeding of the Righteous," that Mrs. Livingston whispers to Louise and Erma to close their ears, and goes out of the place to the pealing of its great organ and the singing of its vast choir, feeling a loathing horror of these Saints of Latter Days. As for Ferdie, he remarks, "Isn't this a Tower of Babel crowd?" for it is Conference time, and Northern Utah has sent its Swedes and Scandinavians, and Southern Utah its Huns and Bohemians, and there are Welsh from Spanish Fork, and Cornish men from Springville, and all are jabbering in their native tongues, English being less heard than the others; and the men have, generally, red faces, scaly from weather exposure, and the women have often a hopeless look in their eyes, and the children are mostly tow-headed in this Mormon Conference crowd of 1871.