Dr. Hingston "thanks God he never wrote against the Mormons," and goes out in search of a brother nglishman.  Comes back at night and says there is a prejudice against me.  Advises me to keep in.  Has heard that the Mormons thirst for my blood and are on the lookout for me. Under these circumstances I keep in. The next day is Sunday, and we go to the Tabernacle, in the morning.  The Tabernacle is located on ---- street, and is a long rakish building of adobe, capable of seating some twenty-five hundred persons.  There is a wide platform and a rather large pulpit at one end of the building, and at the other end is another platform for the choir.  A young Irishman of the name of Sloan preaches a sensible sort of discourse, to which a Presbyterian could hardly have objected.  Last night this same Mr. Sloan enacted a character in a rollicking Irish farce at the theatre!  And he played it well, I was told; not so well, of course, as the great Dan Bryant could; but I fancy he was more at home in the Mormon pulpit than Daniel would have been. The Mormons, by the way, are preeminently an amusement-loving people, and the Elders pray for the success of their theatre with as much earnestness as they pray for anything else.  The congregation doesn't startle us.  It is known, I fancy, that the heads of the Church are to be absent to-day, and the attendance is slim.  There are no ravishingly beautiful women present, and no positively ugly ones.  The men are fair to middling.  They will never be slain in cold blood for their beauty, nor shut up in jail for their homeliness. There are some good voices in the choir to-day, but the orchestral accompaniment is unusually slight.  Sometimes they introduce a full brass and string band in Church.  Brigham Young says the devil has monopolized the good music long enough, and it is high time the Lord had a portion of it.  Therefore trombones are tooted on Sundays in Utah as well as on other days; and there are some splendid musicians there.  The Orchestra in Brigham Young's theatre is quite equal to any in Broadway.  There is a youth in Salt Lake City (I forget his name) who plays the cornet like a North American angel. Mr. Stenhouse relieves me of any anxiety I had felt in regard to having my swan-like throat cut by the Danites, but thinks my wholesale denunciation of a people I had never seen was rather hasty.  The following is the paragraph to which the Saints objected.  It occurs in an "Artemus Ward" paper on Brigham Young, written some years ago: "I girded up my Lions and fled the Seen.  I packt up my duds and left Salt Lake, which is a 2nd Soddum and Germorer, inhabited by as theavin' & onprincipled a set of retchis as ever drew Breth in eny spot on the Globe."