rakish building of adobe, capable of seating some twenty-five
hundred persons. There is a wide platform and a rather large
pulpit at one end of the building, and at the other end is another
platform for the choir. A young Irishman of the name of Sloan
preaches a sensible sort of discourse, to which a Presbyterian
could hardly have objected. Last night this same Mr. Sloan enacted
a character in a rollicking Irish farce at the theatre! And he
played it well, I was told; not so well, of course, as the great
Dan Bryant could; but I fancy he was more at home in the Mormon
pulpit than Daniel would have been.

The Mormons, by the way, are preeminently an amusement-loving
people, and the Elders pray for the success of their theatre with
as much earnestness as they pray for anything else. The
congregation doesn't startle us. It is known, I fancy, that the
heads of the Church are to be absent to-day, and the attendance is
slim. There are no ravishingly beautiful women present, and no
positively ugly ones. The men are fair to middling. They will
never be slain in cold blood for their beauty, nor shut up in jail
for their homeliness.

There are some good voices in the choir to-day, but the orchestral
accompaniment is unusually slight. Sometimes they introduce a full
brass and string band in Church. Brigham Young says the devil has
monopolized the good music long enough, and it is high time the
Lord had a portion of it. Therefore trombones are tooted on
Sundays in Utah as well as on other days; and there are some
splendid musicians there. The Orchestra in Brigham Young's theatre
is quite equal to any in Broadway. There is a youth in Salt Lake
City (I forget his name) who plays the cornet like a North American