20 bushels of wheat. 5 bushels of corn. 4 bushels of potatoes. 2 bushels of oats. 4 bushels of salt. 2 hams. 1 live pig (Dr. Hingston chained him in the box-office.) 1 wolf-skin. 5 pounds of honey in the comb. 16 strings of sausages--2 pounds to the string. 1 cat-skin. 1 churn (two families went in on this; it is an ingenious churn, and fetches butter in five minutes by rapid grinding.) 1 set of children's under-garments, embroidered. 1 firkin of butter. 1 keg of apple-sauce. One man undertook to pass a dog (a cross between a Scotch terrier and a Welsh rabbit) at the box-office, and another presented a German-silver coffin-plate, but the Doctor very justly repulsed them both. 4.14. THE BALL. The Mormons are fond of dancing. Brigham and Heber C. dance. So do Daniel H. Wells, and the other heads of the Church. Balls are opened with prayer, and when they break up a benediction is pronounced. I am invited to a ball at Social Hall, and am escorted thither by Brothers Stenhouse and Clawson. Social Hall is a spacious and cheerful room. The motto of "Our Mountain Home" in brilliant evergreen capitals adorns one end of the hall, while at the other a platform is erected for the musicians, behind whom there is room for those who don't dance to sit and look at the festivities. Brother Stenhouse, at the request of President Young, formally introduces me to company from the platform. There is a splendor of costumery about the dancers I had not expected to see. Quadrilles only are danced. The mazourka is considered sinful. Even the old-time round waltz is tabooed. I dance. The Saints address each other here, as elsewhere, as Brother and Sister. "This way, Sister!" "Where are you going, Brother?" &c., &c. I am called Brother Ward. This pleases me, and I dance with renewed vigor. The Prophet has some very charming daughters, several of whom are present to-night. I was told they spoke French and Spanish. The Prophet is more industrious than graceful as a dancer. He exhibits, however, a spryness of legs quite remarkable in a man at his time of life. I didn't see Heber C. Kimball on the floor. I am told he is a loose and reckless dancer, and that many a lily-white toe has felt the crushing weight of his cow-hide monitors. The old gentleman is present, however, with a large number of wives. It is said he calls them his "heifers." "Ain't you goin' to dance with some of my wives?" said a Mormon to me. These things make a Mormon ball more spicy than a Gentile one. The supper is sumptuous, and bear and beaver adorn the bill of fare. I go away at the early hour of two in the morning. The moon is shining brightly on the snow-covered streets. The lamps are out, and the town is still as a graveyard. 4.15. PHELP'S ALMANAC.