The parquette of the theatre is occupied exclusively by the Mormons and their wives and children. They wouldn't let a Gentile in there any more than they would a serpent. In the side seats are those of President Young's wives who go the play, and a large and varied assortment of children. It is an odd sight to see a jovial old Mormon file down the parquette aisle with ten or twenty robust wives at his heels. Yet this spectacle may be witnessed every night the theatre is opened. The dress circle is chiefly occupied by the officers from Camp Douglas and the Gentile Merchants. The upper circles are filled by the private soldiers and Mormon boys. I feel bound to say that a Mormon audience is quite as appreciative as any other kind of an audience. They prefer comedy to tragedy. Sentimental plays, for obvious reasons, are unpopular with them. It will be remembered that when C. Melnotte, in the Lady of Lyons, comes home from the wars, he folds Pauline to his heaving heart and makes several remarks of an impassioned and slobbering character. One night when the Lady of Lyons was produced here, an aged Mormon arose and went out with his twenty-four wives, angrily stating that he wouldn't sit and see a play where a man made such a CUSSED FUSS OVER ONE WOMAN. The prices of the theatre are: Parquette, 75 cents; second and third upper circles, 25 cents. In an audience of two thousand persons (and there are almost always that number present probably a thousand will pay in cash, and the other thousand in grain and a variety of articles; all of which will command money however. Brigham Young usually sits in the middle of the parquette, in a rocking-chair, and with his hat on. He does not escort his wives to the theatre. They go alone. When the play drags he either falls into a tranquil sleep or walks out. He wears in winter time a green wrapper, and his hat in the style introduced into this country by Louis Kossuth, Esq. the liberator of Hungaria. I invested a dollar in the liberty of Hungaria nearly fifteen years ago. 4.13. A PIECE IS SPOKEN. A piece hath its victories no less than war. "Blessed are the Piece-makers." That is Scripture. The night of the "comic oration" is come, and the speaker is arranging his back hair in the star dressing-room of the theatre. The orchestra is playing selections from the Gentile opera of "Un Ballo in Maschera," and the house is full. Mr. John F. Caine, the excellent stage manager, has given me an elegant drawing-room scene in which to speak my little piece. [In Iowa, I once lectured in a theatre, and the heartless manager gave me a dungeon scene.] The curtain goes up, and I stand before a Salt Lake of upturned faces. I can only say that I was never listened to more attentively and kindly in my life than I was by this audience of Mormons. Among my receipts at the box-office this night were--