but I could not see how I could get off. However, Mrs. Louderer
said she had come to keep house and to take care of the children while
I should go with Mrs. O'Shaughnessy to E----. We should have two days'
travel by sled and a few hours on a train, then another journey by
sled. I wanted to go powerfully, but the paste-smeared room seemed to
forbid.

As Mrs. Louderer would stay with the children, Mr. Stewart thought the
trip would be good for me. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy knew I wanted to visit
Bishop D----, a shining light among the Latter-Day Saints, so she
promised we should stay overnight at his house. That settled it; so in
the cold, blue light of the early morning, Mr. Beeler, a new neighbor,
had driven my friends over in Mrs. Louderer's big sled, to which was
hitched a pair of her great horses and his own team. He is a widower
and was going out to the road for supplies, so it seemed a splendid
time to make my long-planned visit to the Bishop. Deep snow came
earlier this year than usual, and the sledding and weather both
promised to be good. It was with many happy anticipations that I
snuggled down among the blankets and bearskins that morning.

Mr. Beeler is pleasant company, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is so jolly and
bright, and I could leave home without a single misgiving with Mrs.
Louderer in charge.

The evening sky was blazing crimson and gold, and the mountains behind
us were growing purple when we entered the little settlement where the
Bishop lives. We drove briskly through the scattered, straggling little
village, past the store and the meeting-house, and drew up before the
dwelling of the Bishop. The houses of the village were for the most
part small cabins of two or three rooms, but the Bishop's was more
pretentious. It was a frame building and boasted paint and shutters. A
tithing-office stood near, and back of the house we could see a large
granary and long stacks of hay. A bunch of cattle was destroying one
stack, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy remarked that the tallow from those
cattle should be used when the olive oil gave out at their anointings,
because it was the Bishop's cattle eating consecrated hay.

We knocked on the door, but got no answer. Mr. Beeler went around to
the back, but no one answered, so we concluded we would have to try
elsewhere for shelter. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy comforted me by remarking,
"Well, there ain't a penny's worth of difference in a Mormon bishop and
any other Mormon, and D---- is n