pursuance of this idea a notice was posted for all the company and orchestra to assemble in the Green Room of the theatre on a certain evening to consider the question of salary. There was no tardiness on that occasion, even "Jim" Hardie, notorious for being tardy, was on time. Every employee of the theatre was there from the managers to the night-watchman. The orchestra was in full force, and the ladies of the company, even to the smallest utility, were there, all inspired with the hope of being put upon the theatre salary list. The Green Room was found to be too small to accommodate all the company, so the meeting was shifted to the stage, which afforded the necessary room. President Young called the meeting to order, and requested the company to join him in prayer. It is customary in the Mormon Church to open all meetings with prayer, even political ones where those present are all of the household of faith. Brigham offered up a fervent prayer, asking the blessing of the Almighty upon that meeting, and each and every one present, that they might all see with an eye single to the glory of God, and the building up of his Kingdom here on the earth. The prayer over, the President arose and in a brief but very adroit speech, told the object he had in view in building the theatre, the recreation and amusement of the people, thanked those who had contributed to that end, whether as actors or musicians, told them that they were missionaries as much as if they were called to go out into the world and preach the gospel, and the Lord would bless their efforts just as much if they performed their parts in the same spirit. He understood there was some dissatisfaction, however, and some of the brethren thought it was too much of a tax upon their time to continue to do this without proper compensation. He called on the brethren to state their feelings in regard to this question that he might judge what was best to do in the matter. It seemed as if the prayer and speech had almost made them forget that they had any cause or grievance to present, or it had blunted the edge of their courage. Every one was expecting to see Mark Croxall, the principal agitator, get up and make a statement in behalf of himself and the orchestra; but Mark's courage, like that of many another agitator, seemed to have sunk into his boots, when the ordeal came; he opened not his mouth. So the second violinist, David Evans, who was a shoemaker by trade and a cripple from birth, pulled himself to a standing position by the aid of his crutches and spoke to the question. He told how hard he had to work, and what a loss of time the rehearsals and plays occasioned him; being up so much at nights, he could not get up very early in the morning--and could not but lose several hours every day. Besides, he said he did not think it right and just, when the theatre was taking in such large sums of money at every performance, that those who