else with 'em all the way to the Salt Lake city, and
Nancy, she got ill. Some said 'twas pining; some said 'twas a in'ard
complaint as took her; some said 'twas the hardships killed her--the
cold, and the fatigue, and the bad food, and the starvation. Anyhow,
Nancy died."

"And what became of Mary?" rather more meekly inquired Mrs. Peckaby.

"She's Jarrum's wife still. He have got about six of 'em, he have. They
_be_ saints, they be!"

"They bain't as bad off as the saintesses," interrupted Mrs. Grind.
"They has their own way, the saints, and the saintesses don't. Regular
cowed down the saintesses be; they daredn't say as their right hand's
their own. That poor sick lady as went with us, Miss Kitty Baynton--and
none on us thought she'd live to get there, but she did, and one of the
saints chose her. She come to us just afore we got away, and she said
she wanted to write a letter to her mother to tell her how unhappy she
was, fit to die with it. But she knowed the letter could never be got to
her in England, cause letters ain't allowed to leave the city, and she
must stop in misery for her life, she said; for she couldn't never
undertake the journey back again; even if she could get clear away; it
would kill her. But she'd like her mother to know how them Mormons
deceived with their tales, and what sort of a place New Jerusalem was."

Grind turned again to Lionel.

"It is just blasphemy, sir, for them to say what they do; calling it the
holy city, and the New Jerusalem. Couldn't they be stopped at it, and
from deluding poor ignorant people here with their tales?"

"The only way of stopping it is for people to take their tales for what
they are worth," said Lionel.

Grind gave a groan. "People is credilous, sir, when they think they are
going to better theirselves. Sir," he added, with a yearning, pleading
look, "could I have a bit of work again upon the old estate, just to
keep us from starving? I shan't hanker after much now; to live here upon
the soil will be enough, after having been at that Salt Lake city. It's
a day's wonder, and 'ud take a day to tell, the way we stole away from
it, and how we at last got home."

"You shall have work, Grind, as much as you can do," quietly answered
Lionel. "Work, and a home, and, I hope, plenty. If you will go
there,"--pointing to the tables--"with your wife and children, you will
find something to eat and drink."

Grind clasped his hands together in an attitude of thankf