One of the best features of this strange community is the marked absence of drunkenness and profligacy. Most Mormons are teetotallers, and drink little more than tea or coffee, or the crystal water which runs in deep brooks through every street, and has its birth in the heights of the beautiful snow‐clad Wahsatch Mountains, which are a great feature in the scenery of Salt Lake Valley. Salt Lake City has a remarkable building, known by the faithful as “The Tabernacle,” and by the irreverent as the “Big Egg‐shell,” from the oval form of its roof. It holds 8,000 persons, or, under pressure, even more. It has an organ in point of size the second in America. The writer attended a service there, given in honour of some missionary Mormons who were about to part for Europe. The Salt Lake theatre is another feature of the place, and has a good company of Mormon amateur actors and actresses. We once saw there some twenty‐five of Brigham Young’s family in the front rows of the pit. Formerly, it is said, payment at the doors was taken “in kind,” and a Mormon would deposit at the box‐office a ham, a plump sucking‐pig—not alive—a bag of dried peaches, or a dozen mop‐handles, maybe, for his seats! Taking a last glimpse of the great Salt Lake, passing Corinne, where, when it was only six weeks old, a bank and a newspaper office, both in tents, had been established, the train proceeds through a more or less barren district on its way to Nevada, the Silver State, a country where, for the most part, life is only endurable when one is making money rapidly. Those who would see some of the silver mines with comparative ease “get off” the train at Reno, thence proceeding by branch rail to Virginia City and Gold Hill, places where that form of mining life may be studied to perfection. So great has been the yield of the Nevada and other silver mines of adjoining territories, that, as most of us know, the value of silver has actually depreciated. Some of the millionaires of San Francisco gained their wealth in Nevada.