I go to the Theatre to-night. The play is Othello. This is a
really fine play and was a favourite of G. Washington, the father
of his country. On this stage, as upon all stages, the good old
conventionalities are strictly adhered to. The actors cross each
other at oblique angles from L.U.E. to R. I. E. on the slightest
provocation. Othello howls, Iago scowls, and the boys all laugh
when Roderigo dies. I stay to see charming Mrs. Irwin (Desdemona)
die, which she does very sweetly.

. . . .

I was an actor once, myself. I supported Edwin Forrest at a
theatre in Philadelphia. I played a pantomimic part. I removed
the chairs between scenes, and I did it so neatly that Mr. F. said
I would make a cabinet-maker if I "applied" myself.

. . . .

The parquette of the theatre is occupied exclusively by the Mormons
and their wives and children. They wouldn't let a Gentile in there
any more than they would a serpent. In the side seats are those of
President Young's wives who go the play, and a large and varied
assortment of children. It is an odd sight to see a jovial old
Mormon file down the parquette aisle with ten or twenty robust
wives at his heels. Yet this spectacle may be witnessed every
night the theatre is opened. The dress circle is chiefly occupied
by the officers from Camp Douglas and the Gentile Merchants. The
upper circles are filled by the private soldiers and Mormon boys.
I feel bound to say that a Mormon audience is quite as appreciative