I thought I was ruined—­but I wasn’t.  I took him on to California—­another very long sea voyage—­and when I got him to San Francisco I exhibited him as a fat man.

This story hasn’t any thing to do with my Entertainment, I know—­but one of the principal features of my Entertainment is that it contains so many things that don’t have any thing to do with it....

* * * * *

I like Music.—­I can’t sing.  As a singist I am not a success.  I am saddest when I sing.  So are those who hear me.  They are sadder even than I am....

* * * * *

I met a man in Oregon who hadn’t any teeth—­not a tooth in his head—­yet that man could play on the bass drum better than any man I ever met....

* * * * *

Brigham Young has two hundred wives.  Just think of that!  Oblige me by thinking of that.  That is—­he has eighty actual wives, and he is spiritually married to one hundred and twenty more.  These spiritual marriages—­as the Mormons call them—­are contracted with aged widows—­who think it a great honor to be sealed—­the Mormons call it being sealed—­to the Prophet.

So we may say he has two hundred wives.  He loves not wisely—­but two hundred well.  He is dreadfully married.  He’s the most married man I ever saw in my life....

* * * * *

I regret to say that efforts were made to make a Mormon of me while I was in Utah.

It was leap-year when I was there—­and seventeen young widows—­the wives of a deceased Mormon—­offered me their hearts and hands.  I called on them one day—­and taking their soft white hands in mine—­which made eighteen hands altogether—­I found them in tears.

And I said—­“Why is this thus?  What is the reason of this thusness?”

They hove a sigh—­seventeen sighs of different size.—­They said—­

“Oh—­soon thou wilt be gonested away!”

I told them that when I got ready to leave a place I wentested.

They said—­“Doth not like us?”

I said—­“I doth—­I doth!”

I also said—­“I hope your intentions are honorable—­as I am a lone child—­my parents being far—­far away.”

They then said—­“Wilt not marry us?”

I said—­“Oh no—­it cannot was.”

Again they asked me to marry them—­and again I declined.  When they cried—­

“Oh—­cruel man!  This is too much—­oh! too much!”

I told them that it was on account of the muchness that I declined.—­Works.

FRANK R. STOCKTON.

(BORN, 1834.)

* * * * *

OUR TAVERN.