My desire was to exhibit my grate show in Salt Lake City, so I called on Brigham Yung, the grate mogull amung the mormins, and axed his permishun to pitch my tent and onfurl my banner to the gintle breezis. He lookt at me in a austeer manner for a few minits, and sed— “Do you bleeve in Solomon, Saint Paul, the immaculateness of the Mormin Church and the Latter-day Revelashuns?” Sez I, “I’m on it!” I make it a pint to git along plesunt, tho I didn’t know what under the Son the old feller was drivin at. He sed I mite show. “You air a marrid man, Mister Yung, I bleeve?” sez I, preparin to rite him som free parsis. “I hev eighty wives, Mister Ward. I sertinly am marrid.” “How do you like it as far as you hev got?” sed I. He sed “middlin,” and axed me wouldn’t I like to see his famerly, to which I replide that I wouldn’t mind minglin with the fair Seck & Barskin in the winnin smiles of his interestin wives. He accordingly tuk me to his Scareum. The house is powerful big & in an exceedin large room was his wives and children, which larst was squawkin and hollerin enuff to take the roof rite orf the house. The wimin was of all sizes and ages. Sum was pretty & sum was plane—sum was helthy and sum was on the Wayne—which is verses, tho sich was not my intentions, as I don’t ’prove of puttin verses in Proze rittins, tho ef occashun requires I can jerk a Poim ekal to any of them Atlantic Munthly fellers. “My wives, Mister Ward,” sed Yung. “Your sarvant, marms,” sed I, as I sot down in a cheer which a red-heded female brawt me. “Besides these wives you see here, Mister Ward,” sed Yung, “I hav eighty more in varis parts of this consecrated land which air Sealed to me.” “Which,” sez I, gittin up & starin at him. “Sealed, Sir! sealed.” “Whare bowts?” sez I. “I sed, Sir, that they was sealed!” He spoke in a traggerdy voice. “Will they probly continner on in that stile to any great extent, Sir,” I axed. “Sir,” sed he, turnin as red as a biled beet, “don’t you know that the rules of our Church is that I, the Profit, may hev as meny wives as I wants?” “Jes so,” I sed. “You are old pie, ain’t you?” “Them as is Sealed to me—that is to say, to be mine when I wants um—air at present my sperretooul wives,” sed Mister Yung. “Long may thay wave!” sez I, seein I shood git into a scrape ef I didn’t look out.