"I'm glad to see one of 'em," interjected a member of the group, "and say, friend, is it true that Brigham has a pile of money he has got one way and another?"
"O yes," replied our oracle, "he has eight million in the Bank of England."
"Yes, I've heard that, but is it in pounds, dollars, or shillings? It makes a damn sight of difference which."
"I ain't sure which, but it is eight million and he has got ten thousand cattle and horses over on Church Island."
"He can afford to keep a lot of wives," said another.
"Wives! do you know that he has them in every part of Utah? He has got more than a thousand scattered around."
All these statements and many more of like import were received with more or less credulity, although the man who introduced the conversation just cited was said to be a professional gambler and an habitué of Trowbridge's saloon.
We visited Camp Douglass and other points in and around the city until we were surfeited with knowledge concerning the villainy said to be practiced by the Mormons. These and many other tales equally startling and absurd were spread throughout the states by returning travelers who had escaped from that alleged abode of assassins.
While our party was gathered in a quiet room in a hotel one evening after we had been reviewing the results of our observations and the statements heard upon the streets and elsewhere, Ben with much gravity outlined in a single sentence what seemed to be a wise and dignified policy for us to pursue.
"Now here we are," said Ben, "among a people who are bitterly divided among themselves. We don't have to be Mormons, but I see no sense in vilifying and denouncing them as hundreds are doing on the streets, who don't know any more theology or facts than we do. Let's be fair and unprejudiced and avoid controversies on these local affairs. I believe the men who are doing most of the talking are a heap worse than any Mormons I have seen."