unions had never been blessed with children. As often as once a
year he used to go to Omaha, in Nebraska, with a mule-train for
goods; but although he had performed the rather perilous journey
many times with entire safety, his heart was strangely sad on
this particular morning, and filled with gloomy forebodings.

The time for his departure had arrived. The high-spirited mules
were at the door, impatiently champing their bits. The Mormon
stood sadly among his weeping wives.

"Dearest ones," he said, "I am singularly sad at heart, this
morning; but do not let this depress you. The journey is a
perilous one, but--pshaw! I have always come back safely
heretofore, and why should I fear? Besides, I know that every
night, as I lay down on the broad starlit prairie, your bright
faces will come to me in my dreams, and make my slumbers sweet
and gentle. You, Emily, with your mild blue eyes; and you,
Henrietta, with your splendid black hair; and you, Nelly, with
your hair so brightly, beautifully golden; and you, Mollie, with
your cheeks so downy; and you, Betsy, with your wine-red lips--
far more delicious, though, than any wine I ever tasted--and you,
Maria, with your winsome voice; and you, Susan, with your--with
your--that is to say, Susan, with your--and the other thirteen of
you, each so good and beautiful, will come to me in sweet dreams,
will you not, Dearestists?"

"Our own," they lovingly chimed, "we will!"

"And so farewell!" said Reginald. "Come to my arms, my own!" he
cried, "that is, as many of you as can do it conveniently at