After the service we were all received at Brigham Young’s house, where he seemed to be expecting us.  He looked like any old Vermont farmer, with his white fringe of beard under his fat, puffy cheeks, and his thick, jet-black eyebrows over his keen eyes.  He talked to us about his mission in this world and told us about the hardships his people had borne when they came to St. Joseph, which was the first place they “struck” after their tramp over the desert, where most of the men died.  It was there he received a mysterious message from on high telling him that bigamy would be pardonable under the circumstances.  He told Johan that the Danes were some of his best subjects.  Johan made his most diplomatic bow, as if he thought that this compliment to his nation ought to be acknowledged.  We heard after that Brigham Young had said this because the Danes were known to take the most wives and ask no questions.

It seems that B.Y. is almost a widower now, poor man.  He has only twenty-seven wives.  Amelia reigns supreme just now; the others sit forlorn in rocking-chairs in their empty parlors, biting their nails and chewing the bitter gum of envy.

Johan thought we ought perhaps to demand an official “audience” of Amelia, but the others repulsed this inspiration.  It was amusing to walk by Brigham Young’s big house, a long rambling building with innumerable doors.  Each wife has an establishment of her own, consisting of parlor, bedroom, and a front door, the key of which she keeps in her pocket.

We walked about after luncheon, and Colonel Hooker drove us through the streets and up the hill to show us the view, which was magnificent beyond words.

We left Salt Lake City next day with regret.

It was telegraphed to Reno that we were to arrive there, to be treated, escorted, and transported to Virginia City free of charge.  They began the treating by giving us an excellent breakfast at the hotel.  They asked us ladies if we wanted to go down the shaft with the gentlemen to see the famous silver-mine.  We cried “Yes” with enthusiasm.

A dressing-room was put at our disposal, and the clothes we were to wear were neatly placed in piles.  There were miners’ jackets, miner’s leather trousers, and felt hats.  We chose the suits best fitting our different anatomies, and dressed.  My choice fell on a boy’s rather clean suit.  We felt very rakish in the dressing-room, but very sheepish when we joined the gentlemen outside.  In going down the shaft we had to stand on the platform of the cage, which had neither railing nor support of any kind.  We went down thirteen hundred feet and stepped out into the alleys of the shining ore.  After walking for what seemed miles, they showed us a hole and a shaft.  We looked down a hundred feet deeper, where the men who were working were almost naked.  The thermometer was fabulously high.  There was a tank of cold water where the men who worked could plunge every two minutes out of the five.