Life Among the Mormons.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IV, Issue 164, 31 December 1872, Page 3

Life Among the Mormons.

Mark Twain supplies the following-: 'lt is * luscious country for thrilling evenpg stories about assassinations of intrac!ble Gentiles. I cannot easily conceive lything more cosy than the night in the ilt Lake City which we spent in a Gentile ■n, smoking pipes, and listening to tales |i how Burton galloped in among the [leading and defenceless 'Moirisites,' and liot them down, men and women, like so jiany dogs. And how Bill Hickman, a Destroying Angel, shot Brown and Arnold lead for bringing suit against him for |ebt. . . . And the next most interesting thing is to sit and listen to these Genlies' talk about polygamy ; and how some! ftortly old frog of an elder, or a bishop, Larries a girl—likes her, marries her j jistei\ ilkes her, marries another sister— : ikes her, marries another—likes her, takes 1 notlier —likes her, marries her father, j randfather, great grandfather, and then \ bmes back hungry and asks for more. Lad how the pert young thing of eleven . till chance to be the favourite wife, and : Lr own venerable grandmother have to; fank away down towards D -i in their I [intual husband's esteem, ssvd have to pp\i in the kitchen as like as not. Y . i According to these Gentile friends of ours, i fSrigham Young's harem contains twenty! «■ thirty wives. They said that some of I jiein had grown old and gone out of active tn'vice, but were comfortably housed and ire.l for in henery—or the Lion lions-j k it is stnngely nannd. Along with ich wife were liar children—fifty altoetVr. The house was perfectly quie ml orderly, when the children were still. 'hey all took their meals in one room, and I lupp.V and homelike sight ic was pro-: [ottueed to be. None, of our party <jot an ipportunity to take dinner with Mr Young. [nt a Gentile of the name of Johnson pro- I Isised to have enjoyed a sociable breakfast |i the Lion House. He gave a prepos-| erons account of the •' calling of the roll." j hid other preliminaries, and the carriage Lilt ensued when the buckwheat cakes lime in. Buthe embellished rather too! Inich. He said that Mr Young Told him tveral smart, things of certain of his ' two-rcar-olds,' observing with some pride that Sor many years he had been the heaviest [mtributor in that line to one of the Eastern magazines ; and then he wanted to mow Mr Johnson one of the pets that said lie last good thing, but he could not find fiie child. He searched the faces of the mildren in detail, but could not decide frliich one it was. Finally, he gave it up jrith a sigh, and said, ' i thought I should lave known the little cub again, but I ionV Mr Johnson said further that Mr ?ouug observed that life was a sad, sad ling—'because the joy of every new Carriage a man contracted was so apt to |e blighted by the inopportune funeral of a less recent bride.' And Mr Johnson jaid that while he and Mr Young were lleasantly conversing in private, one of the Kirs Youngs came in and demanded a reast-pin, remarking that she had found tot that he had been giving a breast-pin G, and she, for one, did not piopose plet this partiality go on without making | satisfactory amount of trouble about it. fir Young reminded her that there was a jjtranger present. Mrs Young said that i! p state of things inside the house was Jot agreeable to the stranger, he could |nd room outside. Mr Young promised Bie breast-pin, and she went away. But Pa minute or two another Mrs Youns Neia and demanded a breast-pin. Fi ttoimg began to remonstrate, but Mr? cut him short, She said No. G lat ' got one, and No. 11 was promised one. "J it was " no use for him to try and im oSft on her—she hoped she knew hei iglits." He gave his promise and sh< ,en t. And presently three Mrs Young! in a body and opened on their hus an 'l a tempest of tears, abuse, and en reaty. They had all heard about No !» N o. 11, 'and No. 14. Three more •reast-pins were promised J-hat is a specimen,' said Mr Young l«W see how it is : you see what a life ] A man can't be wise all the time 11 a heedless moment, I gave my darling

No. 6—excuse me calling her thus, as her other name has escaped me for the present —a breast-pin. It was only worth twentyfive dollars—that is, apparently that was its whole cost —but its ultimate cost was inevitably bound to be a great deal more, Y r ou yourself have seen it climb up to six hundred and fifty dollars—-and, alas, even that is not the end ! For I have wives all over this territory of Utah. 1 have dozens of wives, whose numbers even I do not know without looking at the family Bible. They are scattered far and wide among the mountains and valleys of my realm. And mark you, every solitary one of them will hear of this wretched breast-pin, and every last one of them will have one, or die. Shade of Nephi 1 you don't know anything about married life, lam rich, and everybody knows it. lam benevolent, and everybody takes advantage of it. I have a strong fatherly instinct, and all the foundlings are foisted on me. Every time a womin wants to do well by her darling, she puzzles her brain to cipher out some scheme for getting it into my hands. Why, sir, a woman came here once with a child of a curious lifeless sot t of complexion, (and so had the woman,) and swore that the child was mine and she my wife, that T had married her at such-and-such a time in such-and-such a place, but she had forgotten her number, and of course I could not remember her name. Well, sir, she called my attention to the fact tint the child looked like me. and really it did seem to resemble me-—a common thing in the Territory—and, to cut the story short, I put it in my nursery, and she left. And, by the ghost of Orson Hyde, when they came to wash tie paint off the child it was an Injun ! Bless my soui, you don't know anything about married life. It is a perfect dog's life, sir—a perfect dog's life. You can't economise. It isn't possible. I have tried keeping one set of bridal attire for all occasions. But it is of no use.

. . . My friend, take an old man's advice, and do I't encumber yourself with a large family— nind, I tell you, don't do it. in a small family, and iu a small family only, you will lind that comfort and that peace of mind which are the best at last of all the blessings this wo. 11 is able to afford us, and for the Lick of which no accumulation of wealth, and no acquisition of fame, power, and greatness can ever compensate us. Take my word for it, ten or eleven wives is all you need—never go over it.'—Some instinct or other made me set this Johnson down as unreliable. And yet he was a v ry enisrta ui ig pe.son, and 1 doubt if s< me of the information he gave us could have been acquired from any other source. He was a pleasant contrast to those reticent Mormons."