It so happened that on one of the outings of the Canadian Women’s Press Club, Raymond and other villages were on our itinerary. There was a story published at the time that L. O. Armstrong, a leading official of the C.P.R. colonization department, had wired ahead that I was a prominent wealthy Mormon from Wyoming and with a number of my wives and other lady friends would visit their community. The story went on to say that the Mormons turned out in force to meet and greet us, and that I, tumbling to the idea that some one or other had put up a job on me, carried out the imposture to the letter. That wasn’t so, but the girls were cordially received and had a rattling good visit. Bishop Mackenzie and his wife were very hospitable, but Mrs. Mackenzie wondered why my female friends asked so many queer questions. They wanted to know how many other wives the Bishop had and how she got along with them, but I laughed it off. George W. Green, the mayor of Raymond, a jolly good fellow, accompanied us on a side trip by train, and, on nearing his town, the girls ranged themselves in the vestibules at both ends of the car, leaving him and myself alone in the body of the coach. Smelling a rat, His Worship, when the train stopped at the station, alertly jumped out the window and waved his adieux. The laugh was on the girls. When we returned to the car, there was a 20-lb. bag of sugar addressed to me with Mayor Green’s compliments. Now, if that were only to-day—but what’s the use of repining? He is now the bishop of the ward at Raymond and enjoys the prominent distinction of having a clean police record during his two years as mayor of the town. There was not an arrest or trial in the place during his term of office. Amongst the Mormons I met was a Mrs. Silver, one of Brigham Young’s numerous grandchildren. She was a handsome and charming woman, and was accompanied by her husband and two children. She was proud of her ancestry and of her religion, and spoke freely of their home life. The grandchildren lived happily together and formed groups with congenial relatives. Thus Mary and Jane and Susie and Ruth would be bosom companions and Lily and Betty and Rebecca and Rachel and Maude would play together. And they all got along swimmingly. The only thing curious about it was that the little Silver girl called Mrs. Silver mother and Mr. Silver uncle, and the little Silver boy called Mr. Silver father and Mrs. Silver auntie. It did seem queer; still it’s none of my business to butt in on family affairs. Meeting a Mormon delegate at Washington with some newspaper friends, we were given a very interesting talk on Mormon life. His home—or rather homes—he said, consisted of an eight-apartment house, in which his eight wives and families were separately domiciled. He explained their home life, and when Jack Messenger of the Washington _Star_ asked him what he did, he naively replied, “Me? Oh, I just circulate.”