 Chapter 36 of Tell It All by Fanny Stenhouse. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. My daughter becomes the fourth wife of Brigham Young's son. The second endowments. After I had consented, and in reality, given my husband a second wife, my status in Mormon polygamic society was very considerably improved. First wives who lived in and firmly believed this order of celestial marriage tried in every way to make me feel that I was one with them, and those who had not so much faith felt more kindly towards me because I had been caught in the same snare with themselves. Every polygamic wife, whether first, second, third or tenth, no matter how much or how little she may believe in celestial marriage, no matter how refined or how coarse and degraded her nature may chance to be, cannot help feeling that her position is inferior to that of a monogamic wife. On this account, many of the Mormon women are never satisfied until they have drawn every woman of their acquaintance down to their own level. The influence of this supposed revelation is by no means elevating or refining. I was now upon an equal footing with the other first wives. They had therefore no hesitation in confiding to me their griefs, and situated as I was I had abundant opportunities of hearing stories of cruelty, wrong, and suffering under the celestial system. Many of them so utterly revolting that I would not dream of relating them again. Polygamy among the Mormons is so involved in disgusting and disgraceful details that a modest woman would not dare to relate all she knew. In this book I have endeavored to be true to my title and to tell all as far as such a thing was possible. But there are thousands of horrible incidents, too degrading for mention, which form part and parcel of the system of polygamy, but which no woman who had any respect for herself would think of putting upon paper. Previous to the time when my husband took his second wife, although I had learned too much, I had to a certain extent been kept in the dark respecting some of the vile and loathsome practices of polygamy. But after that, by slow degrees, I was thoroughly initiated into the system. Visitors to Utah would perhaps notice in the faces of the Mormon wives a dull, care-worn, weary expression altogether the reverse of what contented look is seen among Gentile women. But those very women would never disclose to the stranger the depth of that sorrow which is wearing away their lives. Some few indeed have been led to speak of their troubles, but they afterwards found that the very persons in whom they confided most distorted and exaggerated every word that they had uttered for the sake of making a good story for the press. In many cases the names of those who were thoughtless enough to expose their sorrows together with little personal matters which should never have been made public were put into print. And when the matter came before the church authorities, as in course of time it was certain to do, there was a great deal of trouble and unpleasantness. Women consequently, as a rule, tell nothing, and bookmakers and people connected with the press, while they give to the world astonishing stories of what they have heard, know really nothing of the truth. When a smart man, or a man connected with the press, comes to Utah, the church authorities take him in hand at once. He is carried here and there, and treated with the utmost deference. A pair of Mormon spectacles is placed by Brigham, or one of his numerous factotums, upon the visitor's eyes, and through them he looks at all that transpires. Then comes a glowing account in the papers, or else apocryphal stories appear in the visitor's last new book. And unsophisticated people, who innocently suppose that all that is in print must be true, begin to think that the stories of the evil doing of the prophet, which from time to time have crept out, were only scandalous reports, and that Brigham young, like somebody else who shall be nameless, was, after all, not quite so black as he has been painted. The intelligent saints, however, are not thus deceived. They may hold to Mormonism, and may regard Brigham in his priestly capacity as a prophet, but they are not blind to his sins. I could from my own personal knowledge mention the names of men in whom Brigham young has the fullest confidence, and who are in daily communication with him. Their faith, in most instances, has really fled, though in name they are still saints. They bow the knee before the prophet's throne. But in their hearts they despise him, for years of intercourse with him have taught them what he really is. This is, however, carefully hidden from the outer world. A gentleman who had, for five years, resided in Salt Lake City, said to me a few months ago, Mrs. Denhouse, when I had been here about three weeks I thought that I knew enough of Mormonism to write a book. When I had been here three months I began to think that I did not know quite as much, and now, after five years, I have come to the conclusion that I really know nothing at all. I have lived in a Mormon family for the past year, but that has not increased my knowledge. They are constantly upon their guard. They treat me kindly, but they never let me know anything. This I believe has been the experience of nearly all the Gentiles resident in Salt Lake City. Gentlemen had no chance of learning anything, and the opportunities of ladies were only a trifle better. Up to this time I had said very little to my children about my doubts and fears. With the exception of my daughter Clara, they were all too young. Clara was just budding into womanhood, and day by day gave promise of more beauty and interest in her future life. I dreaded to cast a cloud across her way by telling her of my own apprehensions in respect to polygamy. If that were the order of heaven, she would certainly have to live in it, and in any case it was the order of Brigham Young, and my child could not escape from it, for no one, unless at peril of life, could flee from Zion in those days. I kept therefore from my daughter all my own troubles, feeling that she herself would soon enough have trials of her own. She saw how much I suffered, and no doubt knew the cause, and although she could not fully enter into my feelings, her companionship was a great consolation to me, and I loved her all the more because I felt that my own heart was widowed. How often I prayed that she might be spared such a life as that which I lived. We had lived together in polygamy about a year when my husband told me that his young wife desired to have a home of her own, and that he intended to provide her with one. This was a very pleasant intelligence to me, but the sight of that other wife constantly before my eyes, sitting at my table, in the midst of my family, walking in the garden with my husband in the evening, or tet-a-tet with him in the parlor, was more than I could bear. I began to feel, whether justly or not, that my presence was a restraint to them, and that they felt annoyed when I was with them. This feeling was so strong with me that I constantly avoided them, and I finally concluded to spend the evenings in my own room with my children, for then, being out of their presence, I should perhaps be at peace. All this time I hoped that my husband would urge me to come back again to the parlor, and several times he did so, but I thought that I was detrope, and remained in my room. He thought that I was making myself quite disagreeable, and such probably was the case, for no wife could be pleasant or happy, situated as I was. This, however, was all changed when my husband established a second home. I did not mind being deprived of his society so long as I could get rid of her. Personally I had no ill feeling towards her, for she had always treated me with respect. The only reason why I hated her was because she was his wife. Even her presence was painful to me, and when she was near me I hardly felt able to breathe. Just at that time the marriage of my daughter Clara first began to be talked about seriously. One day my husband, being out driving with Joseph A. Young, the eldest of the Prophet, the subject was discussed between them, and Joseph A. made a proposition of marriage. This to me was the cause of considerable uneasiness, as Joseph A. was a polygamist, and at first I altogether refused to listen to the suggestion. At that time Clara was not fifteen years of age, and not only did I consider her altogether too young to think of marriage, but I was shocked at the bare idea of her becoming a polygamic wife. I almost hated Joseph for asking for her. Personally I had no objection to Clara's lover. I had known him for several years. He was an intelligent, generous-hearted, and handsome man of very good standing among the saints, and wealthy. As a friend I valued and esteemed him. But that he, a polygamist, should wish to marry my darling daughter, was very repugnant to my feelings. Clara was then growing old enough to understand my more serious thoughts and sentiments, and her companionship was very precious to me. The thought of her marrying into polygamy was to my mind almost as painful as the thought of her death would have been. My husband agreed with me that she was too young to marry, but on that point he could not offer any great objection, as his own wife, although very womanly in appearance, was but very little older in years. I told Josephay of my reluctance to the proposed marriage, and he fully entered into my feelings. I could not absolutely refuse him, but I wished to gain time. Every day found me more and more weak in the faith, and I thought that if I could only postpone my Clara's marriage for a few years, something might transpire which would relieve me of my difficulty. Joseph promised to wait just as long as we thought proper, if we would only allow him to speak to Clara, and explain to her the sentiments with which he regarded her. In this he acted in a way very unlike the Mormon men generally, and I respected him accordingly. I promised him that I would not influence my daughter, but would let her decide for herself. This after much careful consideration I came to the conclusion was all that I could do. My mind at that time was in a very troubled state. Day by day my doubts respecting the plural wife system became stronger and stronger, and I felt that before very long some great change must take place both in my faith and in my life. At the same time outward circumstances gave no promise of any such change. My husband gave no signs of apostasy, and as a saint I knew he would never think of undertaking anything without the permission of Brother Brigham. We did not even dare to leave the city without consulting the prophet. In times then very recent it was at the risk and sometimes indeed at the sacrifice of life that anyone left Salt Lake Valley without permission, and even at the present moment no good saint who values his standing in the church would dream of going east without first obtaining the approval of Brigham Young. I could not therefore at the time of which I write foresee the great changes which have since taken place. To refuse my daughter to the prophet's son would I knew be utterly useless. By partial submission I might gain some advantages, and the longer I postponed the marriage the greater chance there was that something might turn up, which we all more or less look for when we are placed in circumstances which admit of the exercise of very little choice or effort. My only objection against Joseph A. was, as I just stated, that he was a polygamist. But so long as we remained in the church I could not openly allege this in opposition to the proposed marriage. If my Clara married a single man there was every chance if not an absolute certainty that after a while he would take another wife or wives. This had been the case with other girls with whom my child was acquainted. They had married single men, trusting that their influence over them would be sufficient to retain their affections ever to themselves alone. But they had soon reason to see how groundless their expectations and hopes had been. If on the other hand I gave my daughter to a polygamist there was certainly no reason why Joseph A. should be refused. I felt surrounded on every side by difficulties, and out of them all I endeavored to choose the least. One day my husband told me that Brigham Young had seriously spoken to him about the matter, and had counseled him to let the marriage take place at once, saying that my Clara was quite old enough. After this objection on my part would have been utterly unavailing. Everything was settled at the fiat of Brigham, and the feelings and judgment of a father and mother in respect to their own daughter were, of course, of not the slightest consequence. The wedding day was therefore fixed when the sweet flower of my own quiet garden was to be transplanted to another home. We went to the endowment house, my husband, myself and our daughter, together with some friends of the family. There we met with Joseph A. Young, the expectant bridegroom, his father Brigham Young, Joseph A.'s first wife Mary Young, and several of the brethren. The bride and bridegroom and the bridegroom's first wife were all dressed in their temple robes. We then entered a small room where the altar of which I have already spoken is placed. At the end of the altar Brigham was seated in a large armchair covered with crimson velvet. The altar also was crimson. Brigham officiated. Joseph A.'s first wife Mary Young knelt in front of the long crimson altar, and my daughter Clara knelt beside her on a sort of false stool or ledge arranged for that purpose. Behind the altar knelt Joseph A. Brigham said. Joseph, are you willing to take Clara's din-house to be your lawful and wedded wife for time and for all eternity? Joseph answered, yes. Then Joseph's first wife was told to place the right hand of my daughter in the right hand of her husband, in token that she was willing, and then Clara was questioned as Joseph had been. When she replied in the affirmative Brigham said, I pronounce you man and wife in the name of the Lord. Amen. They were now married, and Brigham Young, Joseph A.'s first wife, and a few other friends came home to the wedding breakfast, after which my daughter went to her own unpleasant home. Thus my worst fears were realized. My own daughter had become a polygamic wife. She was the fourth wife of her husband, Joseph A. Young. It is a source of sorrow to any mother who really loves her children to lose them, even if it be for their own good and happiness. But in my own case there were reasons why I felt the loss of my daughter more than I should have done under ordinary circumstances. I felt quite desolate without her, for when left all alone, when my husband took his second wife, and when I had no one else to turn to, my little daughter had entwined herself about my heart in a thousand sweet and loving ways. She knew how great an influenced music had over me, and how much I loved to hear her play and sing. And when she saw how sad my heart was, or caught me in tears, she would go to her piano and lure me to her side by some sweet song which she knew was dear to my memory. But with her went all that love and gentleness which in my time of deepest trouble sustained me and kept me from absolute despair. I have often wondered whether Joseph ever realized how great, how dear a gift I bestowed upon him when I gave him my little Clara. But in saying this I do not mean to cast the shadow of a doubt upon his true heartedness and love towards her. He was always kind and thoughtful, considering her comfort in everything, and although they now have been married seven years, he has never changed, but is the same to her as on the first day of their marriage. A good, kind and gentle husband he has ever been, anticipating her every wish, tenderly and carefully guarding her from even a painful thought. My only regret has been that he is a polygamist, and she a polygamic wife. Not long after this my husband one day told me that a select few had been chosen to receive their second endowments, and that we were honored with the same privilege. This I was told was one of the highest honors that could be conferred upon us, as the second endowments had never been given to anyone since the Mormons left Nauvoo. The glory of this privilege I did not myself however feel, and notwithstanding any respect which might be intended by our names being added to the list of chosen ones, I refused to see the slightest good in the whole affair. I am afraid I was naturally perverse, or was it that the light was now beginning to dawn more clearly upon my mind? I know not, but I raised every possible objection, feeling though I did that all opposition on my part was useless. I knew that I should have to go, but I felt a dismal satisfaction in letting everyone know how much I hated the system. Our second wife, I say our, because I had been taught that my husband and myself were indissolubly one, even in the matter of taking wives. Our second wife seemed the happiest of us all when the day arrived, and I believe she considered that we were very highly favored. After preparing our temple robes, we started for the endowment house. The reluctance which I felt caused me to lag behind, and I was gently reminded several times that I was making myself very disagreeable. I did not however feel much remorse, for my husband had still one good obedient wife walking at his side, who I knew would sympathize with him, and that as everyone is aware, is more than falls to the lot of every man. When we reached the endowment house, we ladies were shown into one room, and our husband into another. We then proceeded to array ourselves in our robes, caps, and aprons, the same as when we received our first endowments, and when all was ready we were ushered into another room by one of the brethren who was also dressed in his temple robes. There we met our husband and several other brethren, all dressed in the same way. We sat down, and oil was then poured upon the head of our husband by two of the brethren, Daniel H. Wells, and another, and he was then ordained a king and priest to all eternity. After that we two wives were anointed in like manner and ordained queens and priestesses to reign and rule with our husband over his kingdom in the celestial world. Had I ever solaced myself with the notion which some Mormon women entertain, that first wives are queens over all the rest, I should have been sadly disappointed when I heard our second wife ordained to the same high office as myself. As it was, however, my faith was so small that I should have been quite contented had they consecrated her alone, queen for eternity, so long as they would have allowed me to rule and reign by myself in my own home for time. The ceremony did not last long, but it all appeared to me such folly that I was anxious to leave the place, and though I dared not say so, I was truly ashamed to be seen coming out of the house. While going through these endowments I was filled with a thorough contempt for everybody and everything around me, and I suppose that my feelings were visible upon my countenance, for after leaving the house I remember the apostle John Taylor asking me if I did not feel well, and I told him as plainly as I dared what really was the matter. He spoke to me very kindly and tried to reassure me, but the scales were now falling from my eyes and all his arguments availed nothing. And withstanding all this I was not ready yet to cast off the yoke, and a few months after our second endowments I again gave evidence of my faith. An event occurred in the other branch of my husband's family which produced a strong impression upon my mind. A little daughter was presented to him by his second wife. I was of course expected to go and visit the young mother and child, and I thought I could never bring my mind to do that. It would be impossible for me to define my feelings at that time, loathing and hatred for him and for her, and even for the poor innocent babe on the one side, and on the other thoughts of what I considered was my duty towards God, my husband, and his other lawful wife. I was bewildered. My heart said, do not go, but my conscience said, it is your duty to treat her kindly, for she believes she has done you no wrong. Then I thought, she is a young mother, and without you frowning upon her, sorrow will come swiftly enough to her door. I saw that my husband was troubled as to what my feelings might be, although he had not the courage to tell me himself of the interesting event. He was afraid of painting me and sent a lady friend with the intelligence. I spoke to him myself and told him that I would go and see Belinda and her child. He thanked me and said, God bless you for that. Then I went to see her, but I was thankful when the visit was over, and although I went again many times and tried my very best to treat her kindly, and even affectionately, I could never get over the painful feelings which agitated my mind when in her presence. I do not think that polygamic wives feel the anomalies and cruelties of the celestial order half so keenly as the first wives, or they who never enter into it. The position of the plural wives, second, third, fourth, or twentieth, it matters not, is but a mockery after all, and in many respects they are more to be pity than the first wives. The first wives have known if for only a little while a husband's love and care, but that has never been felt by the second wives. They are in fact in many respects little better than slaves, and if they are sensitive girls, their position must be extremely painful, for they must realize at all times that they are receiving the attentions of another woman's husband. And in many instances they are even afraid to be seen speaking to their husband for fear of bringing down the wrath of the first wife upon their heads. Others who are not so sensitive assert their own rights and are defiant. I am well acquainted with a pretty young Welsh girl who was a second wife. Her husband had converted her to Mormonism while he was on a mission to Europe, and when they reached Salt Lake he married her. I saw her first two years after her marriage when one day she came to me in the greatest distress. She asked me if I could give her some employment, and greatly surprised at the request, I asked her how she came to need anything to do, as I knew her husband could well afford to support her. I have left my husband, she answered, for I could stand no longer the ill treatment that I received. I endured it until, as you see, my health is failing and I am broken-hearted. The creature I married has no manhood in him. He has allowed me to be treated like a slave, and has himself have starved me, and has acted towards me with the greatest in humanity. When I married him she said, I was willing to make myself useful in the family, and I did so. But one thing after another was given me to do until I became a regular drudge. They would not have dared to treat a hired girl in the way they treated me. I was put into a miserable little back room, and was never allowed to see any of my friends. I had to work early and late. When at last my position would not admit of my working quite so much, they punished me with all sorts of petty unkindnesses, and nearly starved me, giving me only a little flour or a few potatoes every day. At last she continued, I went to Brother Brigham to know what I should do. He sent for my husband and talked to him a long time, and he promised to do better if I would go back with him. Brother Brigham counseled me to do so, and try him again, and I went. Soon after that my babe was born, and then they treated me with worse unkindness. What do you mean by they, I asked? I mean my husband and his wife, she replied. They did not seem to look upon me as a wife at all, and even in the coldest mornings and immediately after my child was born, they used to make me get up first, and light fires and prepare breakfast, and begin work generally, and I was only too glad if I escaped with a little fault finding. I stood it as long as I could because Brother Brigham had counseled me to do so, but now I have left them again and do not mean to return. This was the story of One Poor Girl's Troubles. Now the man who did this is a good Mormon and in good standing in the church today. He is employed by the authorities and his poor young wife is now working for the Gentiles, a much happier woman if her face speaks truly since her separation, although she has to support herself and child. She, like hundreds of other young girls, came to Utah without friend or relative, and this is how a good brother took care of her. But I must be permitted to relate a still more painful story. The story of a poor innocent girl allured from her happy home in England by one of the most distinguished of the Mormon apostles, brought over by him to Utah as his wife, and there suffered to die in misery and neglect. The apostle Orson Pratt, who is called among the saints the champion of polygamy, a man who has devoted his life to Mormonism and whose writings have done more than the labors of all the other apostles to win converts to polygamy, a man who on more than one occasion has boldly stood up against many of the absurdities and blasphemies of Brigham Young, a man upon whom on account of his independence Brigham has frowned and who has consequently never attained to the wealth of his more obsequious brethren, a man who in all the ordinary affairs of life would command the respect of everyone around him. This was the man who perpetrated the atrocious villainy which I am about to relate, and much against my own personal inclinations I feel compelled to tell the story as it shows how shockingly this debasing system can pervert an otherwise upright mind. Orson Pratt married the young girl of whom I speak in Liverpool by special dispensation from Brigham Young, and her parents themselves devout Mormons thought that their daughter was highly honored in becoming the wife of an apostle. She was very pretty and attractive, and for a time he paid great attention to her and brought her over to Utah as his bride. Arriving there he utterly neglected her and she experienced all the horrors of polygamic life. The apostle was living in Salt Lake City. He had left his young wife and her children into Willa, a place about forty miles distant. There they lived in a wretched little log cabin, the young mother supporting her little ones as best she could. When her last child was born she was suffering all the miseries of poverty, dependent entirely upon the charity of her neighbors. At the time when most she needed the gentle sympathy of her husband's love that husband never came to see her. One morning there was literally nothing in the house for herself and her children, who knowing nothing of their mother's sufferings, cried to her for bread. The poor mother quieted them with a promise that they should soon have something to eat, and then she went and begged a few potatoes from a neighbor, and upon these they subsisted for three days. She then took her children with her, for they were too young to be left alone. Her babe was only three weeks old, and she went round to see if she could get work of any kind to do. In this she was not successful and at length worn out by continual anxiety and privation, and heartbroken by the neglect which she had experienced, she sank beneath a fever which promised very soon to prove fatal. For some time the neighbors nursed her, but they of course had their own families to attend to, and could not give her quite all their time, and thus occasionally she was left alone. One evening, when such was the case, she got up in a state of delirium and barefooted, and almost destitute of clothing, took her children and wandered forth with them into the snow. The good people of Twilla went out over the prairie, anxious to find and bring back the poor maniac, but for a long time their search was in vain. At last, not knowing whether she went, she wandered to the house of brother Eli B. Kelsey, a vile apostate, as Brigham Young would call him, but known to everyone else, saint, apostate or gentile, as one of the best and kindest-hearted men that ever lived. In brother Kelsey's house she and her little ones were kindly received by him and his good wife, from whose lips I first heard this painful story, and their wants attended to. They were clothed and fed, and were then carried back to the log cabin which they called their home. Next day the Mormon bishop of Twilla assembled the people, and money was collected and sent to Salt Lake City to Orson Pratt, begging him to come immediately if he wished to see his wife alive. But the apostle did not come. At that time he was actually engaged in taking another bride, and he wanted to hear nothing of his dying wife. Then the good bishop sent a young man who rode all night to compel him immediately to take the coach for Twilla, the young man paying his fare so that he might have no excuse. Then at last he came. Arrived at the little town where his poor wife lay dying, Orson conducted himself like the philosopher he professes to be. Before him stood the hovel within which were his deserted little ones, wailing as if sensible of the great loss of a mother's care which they would soon have to sustain. And there, on her dying bed, was that poor wife and mother tossing in wild delirium. But he, the cause of all that woe, passed by that wretched hovel and its death scene to the comfortable home of a well-to-do brother at whose house he first obtained his supper, and then calmly returning entered the place where his wife was lying, and for a moment surveyed the scene. Then he quietly remarked to one of the sisters present, she has a good deal of fever. Another sister who stood by impulsively exclaimed, Good God, brother Pratt, this is more than a fever, she is dying. Oh, dear no, sister, he calmly replied, she will recover. It was evident, however, to all but Orson that his wife was dying, and that no earthly power could save her. The next day she was still raving, and it was told to me that in her wild frenzy she even attempted to strangle her babe. Orson assayed to hold her, but she caught his gold chain and snapped it in two. His touch and the sight of the chain recalled her for a moment to her senses, and she said reproachfully, You are puffed up with pride, Orson, with your gold chain and rings, while you leave me and my babes to starve. Poor little lambs, where are they? For a moment the yearning of a mother's heart for her children conquered the fever that tortured her mind, and she listened to her husband's attempted words of comfort as he said, I am with you now, Eliza, and I will take care of you. Steadily for a moment she looked up into his face, and with tears in her eyes said mournfully, It is too late, Orson, it is too late. These were the last sane words which she uttered in this life, although she lingered on insensible. The next morning the apostle Pratt resolved to leave for Salt Lake City and his young bride. The bishop however called a council and summoned him to remain until his wife was dead. Nevertheless he did not wish to stay, and being an apostle he overruled the council. At the last moment before his intended departure one of the sisters said, Brother Pratt, should she die what shall we do with her? Oh, she won't die, he replied. But should she, the sister urged? Then bury her with her children, he answered. After much solicitation he was prevailed upon to remain for a few hours, and the next morning his wife died. The language of her last moments as she raved and tossed in mad delirium showed how terrible had been her mental agony, and how much she had suffered from this frightful system. But one might easily fill a large volume with stories quite as cruel as this. It is simply absurd to expect that it should be otherwise. Men and women can train and discipline their minds. They can crush out the affections of their hearts, if they will. But no effort of man can change man's nature entirely, or root out altogether humanity from the soul. Women may endure, as that poor woman did, whose story I have just related, but they never can get perfectly adapted to the system of celestial marriage. The nearer they approach to its requirements, the further they recede from all that is held good and noble in womanhood. And as for the men, they are brutalized by every effort which they make to conform with it. During the summer, about three years ago, a young-looking woman, very shabbily dressed, came frequently to my house with heavy baskets of fruit, which she entreated me to buy. One day she said, You do not remember me, sister Stenhouse, I think, and I do not wonder for I am so changed. I have to work very hard now, for all I have to live upon is what I can make by selling fruit, or any little work that I can get my neighbors to give me to do. And if my husband could prevent even that, I believe he would. I am obliged to gather my fruit at night and hide it from him. And that is why I urged you so to buy, for I never know when I may meet him. I was very much surprised at this, as her husband I knew was getting a good salary, and appeared to be a most gentlemanly man. His first wife I was aware had left him. It was said on account of cruelty and neglect, and he had married this one just after her arrival from England. I had every reason to believe that she had been a good wife to him, and a mother to his motherless children. But he had taken another wife since he married her, and had cruelly neglected this poor woman, leaving her his first wife's children to take care of. She said that he was again paying his addresses to another still, and she expected that he would soon marry her. And yet this woman, his second wife, told me that all he had left for her and the children to live upon was a sack of bran and about fifty pounds of cornmeal. Everything else had been taken to the third wife, even to the best articles of furniture. She said, one evening I had been sitting in the porch in my rocking chair, when he came in and remained about an hour. As soon as he left I went out to bring in the chair, and was just in time to see him carrying it off. I knew where he was going with it. I saw this poor woman frequently, and bought her fruit often when I did not need it, for it grieved me to see her carrying such heavy loads in her then delicate situation. After a time I lost sight of her, and then I heard that she was dead. One day her own daughter, for she was a widow when she married this man, came to me before leaving the city. I am going away to some friends, she said, for I will never live near that man. He killed my mother, he kicked her so severely that she never recovered, and when her child was born they both died from the effects of the blows which she had received, and I hate him. Nothing was ever done to this man, his wife was his own property. He is still regarded as a good Mormon, and when he went to Washington about two years ago he took with him letters of recommendation from the leading men in the church, and the Washington papers spoke of him as being a very gentlemanly and intelligent man. I would give his name, but that I hardly think it would be fair to single him out from his brethren of so many of whom I could tell just as shameful stories. My Mormon friends, however, will know very well of whom I speak. Another first wife of one of the Mormon authorities told me how her husband whipped her because she would not consent to his stripping their home of everything that was either useful or handsome in order to furnish a house for his second wife. Finally he shut her up while he took her entire parlor furniture away. She was a fragile little woman and perfectly helpless when in the power of a strong man, and therefore was forced to submit, as there was no appeal to law in Utah. It is a very difficult thing for a woman after listening day after day to such tales of woe and misery, and knowing them to be true, to retain much respect for a polygamist who ever he may be. For my own part I regard them all with such feelings of loathing, for I cannot forget my own sufferings, that I can hardly speak civilly of them, and would prefer never to speak to them. I know scores of ladies, married ladies, Mormon ladies, who in secret feel and speak just as I do upon this subject. More many years past the American elders have derived a rich harvest from Britain and Scandinavia. After the introduction of polygamy an elder was seldom known to return from mission without bringing him one, two, and sometimes three young girls, or else arranging in some way for their emigration. The missionaries however preferred, whenever it was possible, to bring the girls with them, for if they trusted them to the care of a brother returning before or after, he very frequently turned traitor and carried off the prize himself. The elders were not permitted to marry these extra wives while on or returning from a mission, unless they had special permission from Brigham Young. But quite a number of the poor weak brethren were so impulsive and so anxious to be married that they could not wait for the ceremonies of the endowment house. One conscientious Swiss brother, named Loba, who could find no one willing to take the responsibility of marrying him while crossing the plains, said that as he was an elder he could just as well marry himself and be under no obligation to anybody, and he did so. He had fallen in love with a little miss, a mere child, about one quarter of his own age. Many men have married wives and have brought them home before their first wives even knew that they were in love. They had not had the courage to introduce the subject, but believed that when the wife found that it was done, and could not be undone, she would see the uselessness of feeling badly and would soon get over it. But no wife who has been thus treated ever did get over it. What can a man know of woman's nature who would dare to act thus towards her and think that she would become reconciled to such treatment? What strange ideas the Mormon men must have of woman's nature if they believe that women can submit to such treatment as this and still love them. What folly to think even of love! Can they not discover, if by nothing else by the changed manner, the almost cold indifference of those who were once gushing over with affection, whose winning and endearing ways captivated their hearts, that something must be wrong, that love has ceased to exist in the hearts of their wives, and that a cold, stern sense of duty and righteous obligation has taken its place? It would be very wrong for me to say that there are no men who try to be just in the practice of polygamy, for I know many who try their very best to act impartially to all their wives. But this is not really the result of their religion about which some of these men appear to care very little. I feel sure that if they are good men, notwithstanding the evil effects of Mormonism upon them, they would have been so much better men without it. On the other hand I have known men who, before they became Mormons, were reputed good husbands and fathers, but who afterwards became cold and harsh in their natures, cruel to their wives and neglectful to their children. It seemed as if they thought of nothing else but courting the girls and taking more wives, altogether regardless as to whether they could support them or not. Some of the elders, finding that they might not marry plural wives before they reached Utah, have bound the foreign girls by solemn vows and covenants to marry them when they arrived in Salt Lake Valley. And the poor girls, believing that because these men were missionaries, all they said and did must be right, have often in fact, in almost every instance, to their own great injury kept their covenants and married the men to whom they were vowed. I have known personally and intimately several sisters who have in this way ruined their prospects and blighted the hopes of their whole lives, and sadder stories than theirs could not be told. My husband had again left Salt Lake City and had gone to the States, as we then called going east, for it was such a long journey that we felt ourselves altogether out of the pale of civilization. For I could now, whenever I desired to do so, walk out or visit a friend without the constant dread of meeting him and his wife. It always humiliated me to see them together, although I believed that it was perfectly right that my husband should show attentions to his other wife. It was not now jealousy that I felt. The day of jealous feeling was long past. I felt disgusted, and I was humbled at the sight of them. At one time, for nearly six months, I remained at home, never going further than my own garden, simply for the reason that I feared to meet her in the presence of any of my friends, particularly any of my gentile friends, or worse still, with them. I felt sure that, had we met, I should have tried to avoid them, or have passed them by unnoticed, which would of course have been an insult, and would have caused remarks from strangers, and ill-feeling which of all things I felt most anxious to avoid. There is no privacy in a polygamic family where the wives live together, and very little indeed when they live in separate houses, for each wife finds pleasure in telling all the little weaknesses of the other wives to her own particular friends, and those particular friends in turn tell their particular friends, until in due course it becomes known to some kind-hearted busybody, who considers it her duty to go to the wife whose foibles have thus been bandied about from one to the other, and tell her how shamefully she has been slandered. Then it is the poor husband's turn to hear the whole burden of trouble, never of course exaggerated in the least, and he is expected to make peace, if he can, among his numerous wives. Perhaps all this fuss has been caused by the husband himself, he never intending it all the time. Not unlikely he gave a new dress or some article of wearing apparel to one wife or her children, and the others have noticed it. It may be that, perhaps, he did not think that the others needed it, and probably they did not, but that does not matter in the least. These wives do not stop to consider such a trifle as that. The poor man is told that he must be just and fair to all, and when he gives a dress to one he must give dresses to the others also, whether he can afford it, and they need it, or not. These wives are linked side, and each one notices every article of clothing that the others wear. And no matter how economical one wife may be, or how extravagant another, the careful one must never look better dressed than her less saving rival, or the husband will certainly be blamed for favoritism. After living in polygamy and observing all these things, I came to the conclusion that the men who tried to act justly were after all greatly to be pitied, and I had no doubt in my mind that many of them would be only too happy to be monogamic husbands once again. At one time I believed this of my own husband. He appeared to be annoyed when duty compelled him to leave my home and family circle, and go to his other home. I have fancied that he had, at last, come to think that polygamy was a most unnatural condition of affairs, and that he would be very glad if it were not compulsory. Of course I drew my own conclusions, but I by and by found that they were somewhat premature. I had supposed that possibly his young wife was not so attractive to him now as she had been, and this I must confess did not grieve me very much. But notwithstanding all that, so great had been my fanaticism that I had still remaining sufficient faith in the unholy practice to make me feel that, if we expected ever to get a blessing from heaven through compliance with the celestial command, it was necessary that my husband should be just to his other wife and treat her kindly and considerably. As I said before, from the moment when he first selected another wife, his society lost every charm for me, and therefore I was not so very generous, after all, when I urged him to spend as much time as he possibly could with Belinda. I felt that if I had lost everything in this life for polygamy, and if polygamy, after all, by any chance might turn out true, I might as well strive to get a little glory in the next world. But after all, it was but a poor, soulless attempt, and so miserable did I feel that I frequently wished that I could be completely annihilated after death. My husband's cares were also increasing, for his young wife had already presented him with three daughters. I presume, if at any time she was cross at his long absences, the children were influenced by her spirit, and when my husband did visit her, his reception was probably either too warm or too cool, and in any case more lively than suited his quiet tastes. He assured me that he never spoke an unkind word to her, but would listen to all she had to say in a meek and quiet spirit, feeling all the time that she was young and inexperienced. This no doubt was all very well, but what woman can bear to see a man listening quietly to all she has to say, when she herself is in anything but a calm state of mind? We like men to feel what we say. I have known many husbands in polygamy who made it a practice not to say anything to their wives when they were recounting their wrongs, but preferred to get up and leave without a word, showing them no sympathy whatever, but teaching them with all that cold indifference which in time chills the most loving heart, and silences the voice of affection for ever what their position really was. I have also heard husbands say, I provide my wife with all she needs or can wish for, and surely she cannot suppose that I will allow her or any other woman to dictate to me as to what I should do with myself or how I shall spend my time. I shall follow in the footsteps of Brother Brigham and go where I please and stay as long as I please and come back when it suits me. The Mormon men are very much to blame in this respect. They take young innocent girls from the warm and happy influence of home and after a few brief weeks of devotion they leave them in the cold atmosphere of the world, to battle single-handed with new cares and new duties, to bear sickness and solitude with what courage they may, and thus disconsolate and alone go their way into the tangled mazes of life. This the Mormon husbands do, without a thought of the solemn vows they break, and the heavy responsibilities which they evade, or they never for one moment reflect, that if there is incompatibility it results in most instances from the fact that they have acted worse than foolishly in choosing girls so young and inexperienced, that they could not possibly be fit companions for men who might in point of age have been their fathers, and even then have had a very fair margin of years to spare. CHAPTER XXXVIII. OUR HUSBAND'S FIANCE. A SECOND WIFE'S SORROWS. STEPS TOWARDS APOSTASY. At one time, as I have already stated, I had almost begun to think that my husband had seen enough of the discomforts and heartlessness of polygamic life, and that his eyes were looking back wishfully to the time when, as the old scotch ballad says, one loving heart was all his own, but there as king he reigned supreme. My faith in my own acuteness and perception was, however, very considerably shaken, when one day he told me that he thought it was about time for him to think of taking another wife. I suppose he expected that I should express some astonishment or offer objections, for he proceeded to give me excellent reasons for what he was about to do. His greatly improved circumstances, his desire to sustain his brethren, and above all the necessity that he should build up a kingdom. There was no gain saying all of this. The Lord had certainly very greatly blessed him in basket and in store. It was, moreover, praiseworthy in him to wish to sustain his brethren, and nobody could deny that he ought to have a kingdom. To crown all, the young lady whom he proposed to honor this time could not possibly be objected to by any loyal saint, for she was at the seed-royal of the modern Israel, a daughter of the high priestly house of Brigham Young. I suppose if I had been a right-minded woman I should have felt the great glory that there was in this proposed alliance, but in point of fact such is the perversity of human nature. I did not feel at all pleased, although I could say nothing in objection. I had had some slight suspicion that my husband's eyes, to say nothing of his heart, had lately been inclined to wander in a certain direction, for he had become so particularly regular in his attendance at the theater. I mentioned the matter to him once or twice, but he answered that as an editor it was a matter of necessity for him to attend, and that he ought to be there always. Thus I might perhaps have believed, had it not been that it was now several years since his paper was first established, and hitherto his personal attendance at every representation had not been considered absolutely indispensable. Reporters had been able to do all that was necessary. His proposal to marry this young lady, now it was openly stated, shed some light upon many things which had before appeared to me rather obscure. Her name was Zyna, and she was the daughter of Mrs. Zyna D. Huntington Jacobs, whom I have already mentioned as one of the Prophet's wives. She was one of the actresses in the theater, for many of Brigham's daughters at that time took part in the representations. And I had frequently observed very pretty little notices of her in the Salt Lake Daily Telegraph. Sometimes it had occurred to me that these notices were not quite merited, for other actresses in the same play had really appeared more proficient. But that of course was only my own private opinion. Somehow or other my husband's opinion seemed always to clash with mine whenever there was a lady in the question. And in this case I had again and again differed from him in opinion concerning this same young lady, long before I suspected that he had a more than friendly interest in her. Strange as it would have appeared to anyone unused to the ways and works of Mormon polygamy my husband consulted me about the matter, and it was agreed that he should propose to the lady in question. I offered little objection except mentioning that I thought he would have quite as well fulfilled the commands of God if he had taken an older and planer looking wife. These things are generally fully determined before any mention of the matter is made to the first wife, and opposition on her part is seldom of any avail, besides which I did not much care how many wives my husband took. He might as well have twenty, as the one too many which he already had. His marriage to another could not possibly make me feel any worse, provided I was not compelled to associate with her. I had resolved that I would never live on familiar terms with his other wives, not because I might disrespect or dislike them personally, but because I could not overcome the purer and better teachings of my early life. My husband in due form proposed, and was accepted, and it was soon rumored abroad that he was going to marry one of the president's daughters. Brigham is always spoken of as president young among the saints. In the course of a day or two they were formally engaged, and a more loving couple could not possibly have been found. The young lady herself afterwards told me that their love was of no ordinary kind, and I'm sure I did not doubt her word. But consider how pleasant such intelligence must have been to a wife. Zina's friends who wished to cheer me up and make me happy told me that my husband's love for her was perfectly engrossing, that they thought he could never really have loved before. There was something very beautiful in their love. I need hardly say that I saw these things in quite another light. Of course when I saw the letters which were constantly passing to and fro, brought to my house by persons who evidently knew they were bearers of misives of love, and when I witnessed their effect upon my husband, and saw such anxiety evinced that I should not see them, I did not for a moment doubt their affectionate devotion to each other. But I must admit that to me there was very little beauty in it. The young lady I believe regarded my husband's second wife and myself with a great deal of sympathy, for she thought that, however affectionate he might have been to us, she was his first real love. It is a most astonishing fact that if a Mormon man has ten, fifteen, or even twenty wives, he will be certain when courting the twenty first to make her believe that he never really loved before. And then, if afterwards he took a twenty second, you may be quite sure that she too would be persuaded, or would persuade herself into a belief in the very same statement. With the last wife it is always an article of faith that she is the husband's first and only love. It is a curious question, if a man of many wives starts with as much love for his first wife, as ordinary one-wifed men have for theirs, and goes on increasing his love with each additional wife, so that he can always say to the last that he never really loved before, how much love will he have when he gets to the tenth or the twentieth? At any rate, Brigham, who in the course of his life has had, say, thirty wives, must have a thirty-love power of affection for the last. The extent of his devotion must be something utterly astounding. By this time the old man must be a perfect vasubius of love. Saina pitied us, I know, when she realized that we could never know the great depth of our husband's love for her. She spoke and acted as if this were how she felt, and I have no doubt that she intended, after her marriage with our husband, to treat us with great kindness and consideration, as a sort of recompense for what we never had truly known, and never could know now our husband's love. This was very kind, certainly, but I fear it was not at all appreciated by Belinda or myself, as it is almost always the case when the husband takes a third wife. A better state of feeling was brought about between my husband's second wife and myself. Belinda no longer centered all her jealousy in me, and I, of course, had to divide mine. She now, to a certain extent, began to realize what I had suffered when my husband courted her. She felt badly, and I really did sympathize with her when I remembered how young she was, and that she was the mother of three little children. She had her moiety of a husband, it is true, but like all other polygamic wives, that was her misfortune rather than her comfort or strength. Many a wife would be happier were she a widow. In fact, widows are the happiest class of women in Utah, for they realize that it is far better to have a dead sorrow than a living one. Now our husband always maintained that he was not in love with Messina, but that in making love to her he was acting entirely from principle. So all the brethren say, and I have never yet heard of any one of them ever confessing, except, of course, to the maid and herself, that he was in love. To the maid and herself he says, not only that, but a great deal more. But if our husband at the time of which I speak was not in love, the saints forbid that I should ever see him in that condition. I am sure when I heard his fiance speaking of their devotion to each other and of the fond attachment of her heart to him, for she felt no delicacy in speaking to me, his wife, about such matters. I came to the conclusion that I had never known what it was really to love, and that my nature was too crude and unrefined to understand the mysteries of the tender passion. There was no love in the case, our husband repeatedly told us, all pure duty. There are some men, especially among the Mormons, and at certain times, who find this kind of duty quite a pleasure. Long courtships had become quite fashionable among the brethren in Salt Lake City, and I dreaded a long courtship more than anything else, for there is so much that is humiliating, and I might even say disgusting to a wife when her husband is engaged in love making to another woman, that I hoped as much as possible to be spared passing through such an ordeal a second time. As the accepted lover and a fianced husband of Brother Brigham's daughter, our husband was, of course, constantly in attendance at the Prophet's house. But he was not the only good brother who spent his evenings in Brigham Young's parlour, for it was then, and I suppose it is today, a regular rendezvous for middle-aged and young men and even boys. And there the Prophet's little girls, as well as those who were grown or growing up, obtained an excellent training in the art of flirting and courting. It has always been said among the Saints that Brigham's girls and the daughters of Daniel H. Wells were the boldest and least retiring maidens to be found in Salt Lake City, and that they presumed greatly upon their imaginary high position, which position nobody but themselves cared anything about. It is well known that the very people upon whom they looked down are those who rightly should receive their warmest gratitude and respect, on account of the more than liberal support which they have given to their father, even to the detriment of their own children. But too much must not be expected of young girls brought up in polygamy. When first I heard that my husband had set his affections upon one of these girls, I felt convinced that he could not have made a very wise choice. Men are never very wise in such matters, but when they are influenced by the peculiar motives which actuate the Mormon men, they become doubly silly. And I could not help dreading that the mere fact of my husband having selected a daughter of the Prophet, as his future wife, would bring trouble upon us all. What shape that trouble would take, I could form no conjecture, but I felt sure that a change of some sort was fast approaching. My faith was almost gone. I felt the degrading position in which the celestial system placed me and my children, and it seemed to me that I could no longer endure it. My children I could not and would not leave, but it was impossible for me to continue to live as I had been living, nor would I think of bringing up my children any longer to believe and live in a religion which had so cruelly blighted all my own life. It was for them that I feared now. I felt that for their sake I must break away from this horrible system. My own life I thought was not worth caring for, but the idea of my little girls growing up and following in my footsteps and enduring as I had endured was more than I could bear. Something must be done to save them from such a fate. About this time I procured a copy of The Revelation on Celestial Marriage and read it through carefully and calmly from beginning to end. The reader may perhaps remember that when a copy of it was first given to me in Switzerland years before, I was so angry and indignant that when I had got only partly through it I cast it from me and discussed as an outrage upon all that was good and true. From that time, although I had heard portions of it quoted and read, I had never perused it as a whole. On two occasions at least my friend Mary Burton was very near reading it through with me, and had we done so I have not the slightest doubt that my eyes would have been opened to the absurdity and wickedness of the whole system, and years of wretchedness would have been spared me. Such, however, was not the case. It was not until I had almost drained the cup of sorrow and degradation that at last I found an antidote in the deadly thing itself which had been the source of all my unhappiness. I was acting upon the homeopathic principle, similia similibus curiantur, and using a dose of poison to cure a disease caused by that poison. But if the reader has perused the revelation I think he will admit that it was a pretty big dose for any woman to swallow. As I read I saw plainly from the wording of the document that if ever it was given to Joseph Smith, no matter by whom, it was given long after he had practiced polygamy, or something as bad, and to sanction what he had already done. I had read in the Book of Mormon David and Solomon truly had many wives and concubines, which thing was an abomination before me, saith the Lord. Harkened to the word of the Lord, for there shall not any man among you have, save it be one wife, and concubines he shall have none. Book of Mormon, page 118 In the Book of the Covenants, given through Joseph Smith, and held sacred by every saint, I had read, Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and cleave unto her and none else. Book of Covenants, page 124 And yet when I turned to the revelation I found in the very first clause, Verily, thus saith the Lord unto my servant Joseph, that inasmuch as you have inquired at my hand to know and understand wherein I, the Lord, justified my servants Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as also Moses, David, and Solomon, my servants, as touching the principal and doctrine of their having many wives and concubines, and so forth. What could I possibly think of a prophet, who, after having the law laid down so clearly, and being told so distinctly that the doings of David and Solomon were an abomination, and that a man should have but one wife, should inquire of the Lord how he justified the very things which he had just declared were an abomination unto him? Then, too, what blasphemy to represent God as one day giving a revelation declaring a thing sinful, and the next day justifying it? I felt perfectly humiliated with myself that I had never before had the courage to look the matter calmly in the face and discover, as I must have discovered, had I only used my unaided reason, the shameful imposture which had been palmed upon us. I now made careful inquiry, and it was soon clear to me that evidence was not wanting to prove that the doctrine of plural marriages originated in the licentious hearts of Joseph Smith and those associated with him. When once I was convinced of that, the whole fabric of my religion crumbled before my eyes, and from that time I can hardly say that I had faith in anything that had been taught me. My husband's second wife was also very unhappy now. She, too, after the general rule, had flattered herself that she was his first and only love, and it was not pleasant to have her dream of happiness dispelled. But now that another jewel was to be added to our husband's crown, she could no longer deceive herself. She little knew, poor girl, when she married that a Mormon's heart is like a honeycomb, there is always a vacant cell wherein another may nestle. Real trouble, too, she had. One of her children was taken very sick, and after a severe illness died. I remained with her night and day, and did what I could for the poor child. Had it been possible for me to have felt a greater loathing and detestation for that vile system of polygamy, that feeling would have been conceived while I watched at the bedside of my husband's dying child. It was there that I vowed that no polygamist should ever marry another daughter of mine, and resolved that to my dying day my voice should be raised against the unholy and unnatural teachings of the Mormon priesthood. I looked at that lonely young mother, who in her hour of trial ought to have had all her husband's sympathy, all his attention, to support her, but who instead knew that, however kind he might be to her, he was contemplating a new marriage, and his thoughts must of necessity be more or less with his purposed bride. All unkind feeling was banished from my heart. I forgot that she was my husband's wife, and remembered only that, like myself, she was a suffering woman, a victim to a false faith, and I felt very deeply for her in her time of sorrow and bereavement. My husband at this time had been a member of the Mormon Church for twenty-five years. He had lectured, preached, written, and published in Great Britain, Switzerland, and the United States, in support of the Mormon faith. He had been a most earnest and consistent member of the Church, and devotedly attached to Brigham Young. This attachment to Brigham Young he shared in common with all the staunchest of his brethren. For while the members of the Church retain unshaken confidence in the New Revelation, they naturally acquire a great regard for the prophet, and render him unquestioning obedience. I believe that my husband would willingly have laid down his life if by doing so he could have shielded Brigham Young from harm, or have been of essential service to him. But causes were now in operation which by and by detached him from the Church, and made it possible for me also to leave the Mormon faith. Hitherto for my children's sake I dared not leave the Church without my husband, and I therefore anxiously watched for anything which might rescue him from the bondage in which he was held. As proprietor of a daily paper, his business had frequently called him to the Eastern States for several months at a time, and I observed that after those visits his editorials took a more liberal turn. My Mormon friends frequently said to me, Brother Stenhouse is doing himself no good by his constant association with the Gentiles, and subsequently when we did apostatize our secession from the Church was attributed to contaminating Gentile influences. Then too we had frequent visits from strangers passing through Salt Lake City. I saw with pleasure that this intercourse with the outside world was gradually undermining my husband's confidence in the teachings of the elders, and it gave me courage to hope that, after all, the day of liberty might dawn at last. Feeling as I did thus, it will not surprise the reader that I regarded with more and more distressed the proposed marriage of my husband to Brother Brigham's daughter, for I felt that then he would be deeper than ever in the toils of the priesthood, and I sometimes almost believed that it was my duty to use every influence in my power to prevent it. Putting my own feelings out of the question, it is probable that I might have done this simply for his own good, for I doubted not that some day the scales must fall from his eyes, and then he would be thankful that I had prevented the marriage. Our paths by this time had certainly diverged far asunder, and my husband had another wife and family. But I believed that he was sincere, though sadly mistaken, or I should not have felt so kindly towards him as I did. At other times, and observing his devotion, I almost myself began to think that perhaps the nonsense that I had heard was, after all, true, and that this girl was the only one he had really loved. And if so, of course he ought to marry her. In fact so divided was my attention that I hardly knew what to think. I therefore resolved to act according to circumstances. Brigham Young, in one of his sermons, says that the first thing manifested in the case of apostasy was the idea that the prophet was liable to make a mistake. When a man believes that, he has taken the first step towards apostasy. He need only take one step more, and he is out of the church. This was spoken of Joseph and his saints, but it suits just as well Brigham and his. I knew very well that my husband had taken the first step, and I sincerely hoped that he might soon take the second. For my own part I had for some time not only believed that a prophet might be mistaken, but, as Brother Heber would say, I knew it. My husband and his bride-elect, like all other lovers, had frequent little quarrels. I suppose for the purpose of making up again, and being then all the more ardent in their affection. But they now had a disagreement which lasted longer than all that had gone before. Although I suppose that neither of them had at that time the slightest idea how it was going to end. They had been courting for fifteen months at least, and after so much devotion on the part of my husband, and so much fervent affection on the part of the young lady, it really did seem too bad that so large an amount of love should be thrown away. It was hard that after such a long strain upon their religious and devotional feelings, for they were both very pious lovers. All their labor of love should come to not. Things had certainly taken a twist, for I knew well enough that at one time they both firmly believed that their marriage was preordained in heaven, and that they were as completely one in feeling as mortals ever could be. The mother too, who was a very pious woman, once told my husband that she had had a vision in which it was revealed to her that they were destined for each other in the eternal worlds. The lovers, of course, firmly believed her. But for all that, the estrangement still continued, and my husband was constantly making it wider by the articles which appeared in his paper, until at last certain of the sisters whispered that the heart of the lady had been attracted towards some brighter luminary. Long courtships often end disastrously, but when I heard rumours of the lady's presumed faithlessness it seemed to me hardly fair, for the day had been fixed for the marriage and the wedding dress actually made. Of course I sympathized with my husband. Would any wife like to see her husband disappointed in his love affairs with another woman? I wonder. While under these natural feelings of indignation I one day told Brigham Young that I thought after all the courting that had been done, and it was not a trifle, they certainly ought to be married. He said he was willing enough himself, if they wished it, but girls he said often changed to their minds, and as they could have but one husband it was only fair that their wishes should be consulted. If Saina has really changed her mind he added, I have plenty of other daughters, and they have all got to be married. Let him take one of them. If one won't, another will. The reader will see the liberal ideas which Brother Brigham entertains on the subject of marriage. It may perhaps seem rather strange that I should be anxious to have them marry, but after all that I had seen and endured in polygamy, can it be wondered at that I should no longer regard the father of my children as my own husband? Had I thought him a bad man, or had he acted as I know many of the good brethren do act? Had he brought home girl after girl, with the hope of alluring one or more of them into polygamy? Or had he been utterly reckless of my feelings I might perhaps have been able to cast him from my heart without a single regret, but I really believed that he was acting consistently with the teachings of his religion. And if I felt degraded by the life I lived it was not his fault, it was the fault of the system. I therefore felt that if things came to the worst, and if I were driven to extremities and forced to separate from him, I should like to know that he had a wife whom he loved. I felt certain that there was now but little love between him and his second wife, and that some day a separation was sure to take place. The idea of divorce was so repugnant to my feelings that it was only in moments when grief overpowered me, and when my heart was rung with anguish, and I felt utterly reckless, that I for one moment thought of anything like it. Even then I only entertained the idea of a separate life, not divorce. That last resource of the unhappy wife was, however, spared me, and, looking back, I thank God that in his all-wise providence he so shaped my life at that time that my husband and myself no longer disunited by that disgrace to civilization and Christianity, polygamy, can now rejoice together, that that last step was never taken, and that no false creed or superstition can ever again divide our interests or our hopes. Nevertheless it was strange that the words of my talkative friend should be again verified, and that a second time I should be found persuading my husband to take another wife. Some curious courtships? Brigham ruins our fortunes. Belinda divorces our husband. The reader will see that, setting aside the fact that my husband was already married, there was nothing in his courtships to distinguish them from those of lovers among the Gentiles. But all courtships in Utah are not carried on in this fashion. Some of the brethren entirely omit the love-making part, and with them to take a new wife is simply to make a bargain. The better the saint, the less as a rule does he seem to care about the feelings of the woman whom he makes his wife. My husband, however, was still leavened with the fashions of the old world, and the days of his youth, and like some of the other brethren of good standing in Salt Lake City he fell into Gentile ways, instead of keeping to the true style of Mormon courtship. I heard of one American elder who went to the young lady upon whom he had fixed his choice, and without a word of preliminary discourse of an affectionate nature, said, I've twenty had a stock, fifty acres of good land, got a good log-house, and the nicest old woman in the country. Now, sis, will you have me? Either the fair damsel was dazzled by this alluring picture or not I am not quite certain, but no one would suppose that she ought to have been. Now, to balance the Yankee, it is only fair that I should tell you of a certain Englishman, who lived in Cache Valley, about a hundred miles from Salt Lake, and who was very anxious to find a second wife. He could not get one in the place where he lived, as the girls were all either married or, as the Mormons say, bespoke. So he came to Salt Lake City as a last, desperate resort. To the first unmarried girl to whom he was introduced, without a moment's hesitation, he proposed in the following abrupt fashion. Say, sis, my bishop told me to take a week's holiday and come down here and get a wife. Now, if you don't mind going back with me, I shall start tomorrow morning. The next morning at seven o'clock the young lady was to be seen standing by the Englishman's wagon, with a sun bonnet on her head and a bundle under her arm. They went to the endowment house, got sealed for all eternity, and started for home. Hundreds of girls in Utah have been one for all eternity, with just as little trouble. They must have been girls of rather more than average mortal intelligence. If, in time taken to form their decision, they could tell from the little they know of the men who had proposed to them that they would be willing to live with them for time, but to make a bargain for eternity with so little ground to rest upon. Certainly does seem a little rash. The Mormons of all people, with their peculiar notions respecting the eternity of the marriage contract, should be careful whom they marry, but, to tell the truth, they are the most careless. There is living in Utah today a woman whom I know who has been sealed for all eternity to no less than nine husbands, and if the divorces which she has obtained are, as Brother Brigham says, not worth the paper upon which they are written, she will be likely to have some trouble when she meets them all in another world. I know of several others who have been sealed to four, five, or six husbands. One of Brigham's own sisters was the wife of several husbands after this fashion. How all these matters can be set right it is difficult to determine, but somebody will have work to do. Mormonism had been to my husband everything. It had, for years, grown with his growth until it had become a part of himself. Doubts had occasionally crept into his mind it is true, but it required time to effect a change. The measures adopted by Brigham Young in the spring of 1869, for the purpose of controlling the commerce of Utah, as well as the property and faith of the people, caused great discontent. The teachings of Tabernacle were wild and arrogant, and Brigham assumed that it was his right to dictate in everything, even, he said, to the setting up of a stocking or the ribbons which a woman should wear. Many of the people when they heard these words and witnessed the fanaticism created thereby were aroused to opposition, but Brigham only became more fierce in his denunciations and more harsh in his measures. I could plainly see that all this had the, to me, much desired effect of alienating my husband from Mormonism, and I never allowed an opportunity of strengthening the impression thus produced to pass unimproved. The articles in his paper showed the condition of his mind and brought down upon him the wrath of Brigham. At this also I rejoiced and did not fail to make him feel that he ought to resent the prophet's interference. Brigham felt too certain of the submission of his slave and accused Mr. Stenhouse of having published favorable notices of Gentile stores, also of having their advertisements in his paper, and otherwise aiding and abetting the wicked Gentiles, all which accusations my husband began to feel was an infringement upon his own private personal rights as a citizen and a man. One circumstance followed another, and I could plainly see that his confidence in Brigham's inspiration was slowly but surely dwindling away, and that the day which I had so long anxiously watched for was breaking at last. Notwithstanding this, however, there was one bond which still united him by no weak tie to the church. He was a polygamist. The contemplated marriage between him and Brigham's daughter could, I believed, never now take place, but even allowing that he still had another wife, and now that I had entirely lost faith in Mormonism generally, and the celestial order of marriage in particular, I resolved that I would no longer have a partner in my husband's affections, as if he were a joint stock concern. I would have the whole of a husband or none. I had, not yet, however, sufficient courage to speak to him of my feelings. I can imagine I see some strong-minded woman smile at the idea of a wife wanting courage to speak to her husband. But such women never knew what Mormonism is. Had they been born Gentiles they would probably never have entered the Mormon church. Had they been born in the church they would have been what John Stuart Mill calls subjugated. John Stuart Mill considered the subjugation of women among the Gentiles a hard thing, and he wrote a pamphlet and expressed his mind about it. But I fancy if he could have known the iron cruelty of Mormon polygamy, if he could have seen how the hearts of women are crushed and ground down by the celestial order among the saints until not a spark of womanhood remains in them. If he could have seen the subjugation of women in Utah he would have considered their case a thousand times harder than that of their Gentile sisters, and would never have ceased writing pamphlets or expressing his mind. On Sunday evening Mr. Stenhouse, when he came home, said to me, Brother Brigham has given me a mission. He wishes me to go to Ogden and publish my paper there. This was very unexpected news, but with the vividness of lightning a glimpse of what the prophet intended by such a strange proposition flashed across my mind. He wishes to ruin us, I exclaimed. You surely will not go. Now Brigham, of course, knew that my husband's paper had a large circulation in Utah territory as well as in Salt Lake City, and that his business was in a most prosperous condition. He knew also that to do ought that might impair or destroy that business would be to bring misery and disaster upon all who were dependent upon it for their daily bread. And yet for all that he told my husband to break up his establishment, or in his own words, to pull up root and branch, and go to a place where the people were so miserably poor that it was impossible to make a newspaper successful among them. In all this the crafty prophet no doubt acted wisely. The daily telegraph would in all probability become a power in the territory, and he feared that in a short time it would emancipate itself from his control. Brother Brigham has none of the far-seeing perception of the eagle, that perception which has enabled great men to forecast coming events, and thus to a great extent mold them when they came. He is more the cunning crafty eye peculiar to cats, which are blinded when the pure light from heaven falls upon them, but are very quick indeed to perceive the very smallest thing which transpires in holes and dark places within their own contracted little circle of vision. No man can be sharper or more quick-sighted than Brigham in his own circle, and within range of his own mental powers. But his circle is limited, and beyond it his mental powers never soared. I do not doubt that long before this time he had noted that my husband was weakening in the faith, but he had waited for his opportunity, and now he considered that it had come. We knew very well that this was the way in which he had always acted towards those whom he feared or doubted. When he saw them growing weak in the faith he ruined them, or did the best he could to that effect before they finally left the church. I urged my husband to resist this arbitrary decree on the part of the prophet, and represented strongly the misery which would result from his failure, and the utter impossibility of success. But I soon found that although he doubted Brigham, his faith in Mormonism was by no means all gone. He, like many another, feared that in disobeying Brigham, perhaps after all, he might be resisting God. He could see the wrongdoing of the prophet, and felt that his conduct was unworthy of one who pretended to such great things. But he regarded this as the weakness of the prophet's humanity, at the same time believing that in the matters of religion he might be divinely inspired. He was still under the influence of the past. He could not yet break asunder the yoke, and bid defiance to Brigham and the priesthood. He told me that now was the time for him to prove his obedience, cost what it might, and all the brethren urged him to submit, saying that the Lord would overrule everything for his good. Believing this he broke up his establishment at Salt Lake City and went, as counseled, to Ogden. There he remained for several months, during which time he was losing money every day. Finding at last that he could stand it no longer, he asked Brigham Young's permission to return and recommend his paper in Salt Lake City, for no one then dared stir a foot without permission. This was granted, for Brigham had now accomplished his purpose. But some of our friends told me that the teachers, when making their weekly visits, were telling the people not to take in Brother Stenhouse's paper again, if he came back to Salt Lake City, for he was apostatizing, and they must not sustain an apostate. Now I thought my husband will believe that I was right in my judgment of Brigham's motives. My own family, and that of the second wife, did not accompany my husband to Ogden. He was therefore quite at home when he returned. But the expense of transferring his business from one place to another was perfectly ruinous. He had not only purchased valuable property, as I before mentioned, in the city, but he had also realized quite a comfortable little fortune by the success of his paper. But now the property had to be mortgaged, and his fortune was, of course, utterly insufficient for these heavy daily losses. Just then the severe illness of my eldest son in San Francisco made it necessary that we should leave immediately to attend him, for we had received intelligence that he was not at all likely to recover. As it was my own son who was sick, my husband had very naturally determined that I should accompany him, but this brought on such a severe fit of jealousy on the part of his young wife, who already was by no means too happy, that when we returned after my son's recovery she threatened to obtain a divorce. My husband told me of this, but I had so frequently heard of such threats from wives who were unhappy or neglected, that I thought little about it. One day, not long after our return, I was quite surprised to see Mr. Stenhouse and Joseph A. Young drive up to the door, looking as if something of great importance had just transpired. Mr. Stenhouse jumped out of his buggy and hurriedly gave me a letter, as I thought, at the same time saying, Take great care of this, for it makes me a free man again. Saying this he left the house, jumped into the buggy again, and was gone, while I stood holding the paper, wondering what it all could mean. My husband had told me to take care of the paper. He neither said read it or don't read it, and of course I was not in the least curious. The envelope was not sealed, so I made up my mind that, though he had not said so, he must have wished me to read what was inside, and at any rate I resolved to risk doing so. To my astonishment I found that the document which he said set him free was nothing else than a bill of divorce between him and his young wife. It appeared afterwards that she had been to Brother Brigham, had told him of her grievances, and had asked for a divorce. Now when the wife of any man who is of good standing in the church, and whom Brigham wishes to honour, comes to him for a divorce, he generally sends for the husband first, tells him about it, and they talk it over together. The husband discounted to make them matter up, and a compromise is affected. In the case of my husband, Brigham acted otherwise. The clerk had been directed to make out the papers which the second wife signed, and as far as she was concerned her marriage was dissolved. My husband was then notified that he was wanted at the Prophet's office, and he had a very shrewd guess as to what the nature of the business was for which his presence was desired. He waited till the afternoon when he knew that Brigham would be absent, and then as he was driving out with Joseph A., the Prophet's son, he drew up before the office, and asked Joseph to accompany him inside in order to witness a little business which he had to transact. Joseph agreed, but when he found what the business really was, he strongly urged my husband not to sign the papers, or at least to take time and consult with President Young first. Mr. Stenhouse, however, never for a moment doubted that Brigham had expected by this hasty move to bring him to his feet, and he would not therefore yield. So asking the clerk for the papers, he signed them, and Joseph also signed them as a witness. The other witness was David McKenzie, Brigham's clerk. Belinda had already affixed her name. Ten dollars were then handed over as the usual fee. My husband took one copy of the Bill of Divorce, the wife had a right to the second copy, and the third was deposited in the archives of Zion. My husband had then, as we have seen, hastened home to tell me that he was a free man. And yet these two had been sealed to each other at the altar in the endowment-house for all eternity. This is the way that divorces are granted in Utah. There is not the slightest difficulty about them, if only Brother Brigham is willing. The reader would perhaps be interested in seeing one of these terrible documents. I therefore append a true, perfect, and exact copy of my husband's own Bill of Divorce. It is a facsimile, type, signatures, and all. This is a specimen of an orthodox divorce among the bone-tone in Salt Lake City. Out in the settlements they do things in a much more primitive style, and some of their documents are rather amusing. The following is a correct copy of a Mormon Divorce Bill, taken from the records of Beaver City. March 8, 1871. To whom it may concern. This is to certify that in the beginning of 1869, when I gave a Bill of Divorce to Sarah Ann Lowry, I gave to her for the good of her four children the following property. A parcel of land of about nine acres enclosed all round, with a house of two rooms, and one cow, and heifer. William C. Ritter. I could, if space permitted, give many others equally interesting. I cannot say that I was much grieved at the sight of my husband's divorce. At the same time, long training in the School of Trouble had hardened my heart, and rendered me almost indifferent, and I cannot say that I was very greatly rejoiced. Nature adapts us morally, as well as physically, to the positions which we have to occupy in life. The hand of him who labors much becomes hard, and the unshodden foot grows horny, and the heart at which first is tender, and, like the Aeolian harp, ready to answer to the slightest passing breath, by and by beneath the rough hand of trial, and the world, becomes callous and stony, and the roughest storms, and the sweetest pleasures alike, seem to make little impression upon it. Thus it was with me when I received that paper. A few years before, a reliable assurance that my husband would never enter into polygamy would have been to me the realization of my best earthly wishes. But now my heart was almost dead, and I felt as if I hardly cared one way or the other. If I felt thus, who had still all my darling children around me, who had never missed one dear little face from the fireside, or from the table, what must have been endured by those mothers who not only gave away their husbands to other wives, but who lost child after child, until bereft of all they loved on earth, they could but, like Rachel, sit down in ashes and mourn for the dead. But the more I thought over what had happened, the more doubtful I felt as to what the result would be. That there would be some great change in our life I felt assured, but to me the change was coming almost too late. Then to the young wife who in her hasty anger had obtained the divorce, I felt that her happiness must surely be gone and I could not bear the thought that my peace should be purchased with the sorrows of another. Brother Brigham's part in the matter was also ever present in my mind. That he had resolved to bring ruin upon my husband I did not now for a moment doubt. But if a weak woman's efforts could in any way assist in thwarting his designs, I fully resolved that he should never have the satisfaction of seeing those designs successful. I would stand by my husband, I would work for him and assist him, and would give not even a passing thought to what I might have suffered or remember that he had ever loved others better than myself. I would be to him now the true wife that before God I had vowed to be, for worse as well as for better, and however I myself might have been wronged I would for my part endeavor faithfully to perform my whole duty to my husband and to God. After I had formed this mental resolution and had begun to realize our new position I felt as if awakening from a long dream of many years. I was released from the clutches of that frightful nightmare polygamy, and I could once more take my place beside my husband as his wife. I knew that he would have much to contend against and would need all the moral support that I could accord to him. Brigham's efforts in respect to my husband's paper had been far too successful, and although it was still carried on, fresh difficulties sprang up every day. My husband had been deceived by Brigham's oily manner and plausible way, but to others his intention in sending him away was no secret. A man named Bull, who is now and was also at that time employed in the Deseret News Office, said that no one but Mr. Stenhouse had ever been deceived by what the Prophet had done. It was commonly reported that Brigham intended to ruin my husband, and that when he prophesied that the paper in Ogden should be a great success, he was himself perfectly aware that it was utterly impossible that such should be the case. Whether Brigham was the deceiver or the deceived, I do not wish to say. Men who consider themselves inspired and go on day by day uttering all sorts of nonsense and blasphemy and giving impertinent and mischievous advice in the name of the Lord, at last become thoroughly impervious to reason, and daily and hourly deceive themselves. I hope for his own sake it was so with Brigham, for I would rather believe him a self-made fool than a downright nave, and in many of his transactions, perhaps I ought to almost say all, it is clear to every one that he is either one or the other. Of one thing I am certain, I was fully contented that we should lose all, if only my husband were taken, once and for ever, clean out of the meshes of Mormonism. We might have to make a terrible sacrifice, but to me it was a sacrifice well worth the making.