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hitched to each of the posts of the gate. Still more
surprised was he on entering to find two young men in
possession of his sitting-room. One, with a long pale face,
was leaning back in the rocking-chair, with his feet cocked
up upon the stove. The other, a bull-necked youth with
coarse bloated features, was standing in front of the window
with his hands in his pocket, whistling a popular hymn.
Both of them nodded to Ferrier as he entered, and the one
in the rocking-chair commenced the conversation.

"Maybe you don't know us," he said. "This here is the son of
Elder Drebber, and I'm Joseph Stangerson, who travelled with
you in the desert when the Lord stretched out His hand and
gathered you into the true fold."

"As He will all the nations in His own good time," said the
other in a nasal voice; "He grindeth slowly but exceeding small."

John Ferrier bowed coldly. He had guessed who his visitors were.

"We have come," continued Stangerson, "at the advice of our
fathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for whichever of
us may seem good to you and to her. As I have but four wives
and Brother Drebber here has seven, it appears to me that my
claim is the stronger one."

"Nay, nay, Brother Stangerson," cried the other; "the question
is not how many wives we have, but how many we can keep.
My father has now given over his mills to me, and I am the
richer man."

"But my prospects are better," said the other, warmly.
"When the Lord removes my father, I shall have his tanning yard
and his leather factory. Then I am your elder, and am higher
in the Church."

"It will be for the maiden to decide," rejoined young Drebber,
smirking at his own reflection in the glass. "We will leave
it all to her decision."

During this dialogue, John Ferrier had stood fuming in the
doorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from the backs
of his two visitors.

"Look here," he said at last, striding up to them, "when my
daughter summons you, you can come, but until then I don't
want to see your faces again."

The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement.
In their eyes this competition between them for the maiden's
hand was the highest of honours both to her and her father.

"There are two ways out of the room," cried Ferrier; "there is
the door, and there is the window. Which do you care to use?"

His brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands so
threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and beat
a hurried retreat. The old farmer followed them to the door.

"Let me know when you have settled which it is to be,"
he said, sardonically.

"You shall smart for this!" Stangerson cried, white with rage.
"You have defied the Prophet and the Council of Four.
You shall rue it to the end of your days."

"The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you," cried young
Drebber; "He will arise and smite you!"

"Then I'll start the smiting," exclaimed Ferrier furiously,

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