BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
THE TRAGEDY 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMPSON DUNBAR 
 
 A TALE OF SALT LAKE CITY 
 
 BY 
 
 MAX ADELER 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. M. STODDART & CO. 
 
 1879 
 

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 ff"4"a7 
 
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 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ELOPEMENT, 
 
 ^^ALT LAKE CITY; the Mormon capital! Let 
 'I us look at it. It lies deep in the valley, in a 
 valley which is six thousand feet above the 
 level of the sea. To the right, to the left, to the north, 
 the south, the east, and the west, mountains ! 
 
 Some near, some far. Some mighty, some dwarfed 
 by contrast with the greater. A serrated chain of hills 
 filling the whole horizon and outlining their dusky sum- 
 mits clearly against the pure blue of the sky. From 
 among them the Twin Peaks rise, boldly and grandly, 
 seventy-five hundred feet above the valley, and stand in 
 hoary grandeur, their snow-clad tops the reservoirs from 
 which the plain draws inexhaustible supplies of cold and 
 limpid water. The plain itself, a wide stretch of sandy 
 earth, partly cultivated, but almost wholly covered upon 
 
I o THOMPSON D UNBAR. 
 
 this August day with myriads of gleaming golden sun- 
 flowers, which to him who takes a bird's-eye view, seem 
 a garb altogether glorious. Lying in the midst of it, the 
 city. 
 
 America has no other like it. Surveyed from a 
 distance it wears a distinctly Oriental appearance. So 
 we of the Far West who have only dreamed of the East, 
 imagine how Damascus may look. White houses shin- 
 ing amid rich masses of green foliage. A dome, a tower, 
 a spire, that may answer for a minaret, deep gardens, 
 buildings with flat roofs, a faint mist of dust marking the 
 line of a travelled street, a sky of more than Oriental 
 softness overhead, and an atmosphere so pure that to 
 breathe it is luxury, and to look through it is to gain such 
 power of vision that the peaks of the Wasatch range, 
 twenty miles away, seem within reach of the pedestrian 
 who has five minutes to spare. 
 
 In the city there are broad streets covered with gravel. 
 Upon each side where the gutter should be, there is a 
 stream of pure and delicious water hurtling fiercely along 
 with the impetus gained at the top of the Twin Peaks. 
 The dwellings of stone, of wood, of adobe or sun-burned 
 bricks, are far apart and enshrined among mighty trees. 
 Shops, here and there, thrust themselves out to the edge 
 of the footway, and offer their wares to the passers-by. 
 
 It is a queer throng that is thus tempted. Such a 
 one as no other street in this broad earth can gather. 
 Here is a Mormon saint, a patriarch with twelve wives, 
 and so many children that he is compelled to refer to his 
 memorandum book for a list of them. Stout, rugged, 
 coarse in nature and feature, he is of the kind that found 
 
THE^ TRA GED Y OF II 
 
 his valley a wilderness and transformed it into a luscious 
 garden. There is a Utah Indian, clad perhaps in a stove- 
 pipe hat, a blanket, and buckskin breeches. He wears 
 huge earrings, long straight hair, thick, and as black as 
 midnight. Here is a Mexican dashing along at break- 
 neck speed, upon a shaggy pony. He wears a dress 
 as picturesque as that of a Greek, and he is as fine a 
 horseman as the Arabian desert knows. There go two 
 army officers, wearing blue coats, and looking as if they 
 were in authority. They hie to the camp upon the hill 
 side, from whence the guns that they control can level 
 the city in a day. Gentile miners, with fierce whiskers, 
 broad hats, trousers tucked in boots, and pistols thrust in 
 belts, swagger about in search of firewater; Mormon 
 policemen, quiet, reserved, but keen as hounds, stand 
 upon the corners. Huge waggons drawn by six, and 
 eight, and fen mules come lumbering down the street, 
 bringing from outlying settlements of the saints the tithes 
 for the Prophet's storehouse. Hurrying past them, dash 
 graceful and elegant pleasure carriages such as Hyde 
 Park might be proud of. But where are the women ? Of 
 men there are enough. Now and then a Gentile woman 
 passes, but not often ; and the Mormon women appear 
 still less frequently. It is Orientalism in the extreme 
 Occident. There is the polygamy of Turkey with an 
 approach to the custom which keeps the woman under 
 a veil. It is a strange city, a new city, born within the 
 last half century ; a city of its own kind ; a city that is as 
 striking, as novel, as interesting, as unprecedented to the 
 view of the American who lives east of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, as it is to that of the citizen of London, 
 
1 2 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 To begin with. We have to do with a large white 
 adobe structure, which stands upon the eastern edge of 
 the town, in the midst of a garden, wherein are trees that 
 overtop the roof, and grass that is gemmed with flowers. 
 It is Mrs. Ballygag's Boarding School for young ladies. 
 Two young men meet at the gate. We recognize them 
 as young Mormons. One is Thompson Dunbar ; the 
 other is Arbutus Jones. Arbutus is speaking. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I shall marry them ; clean out the school. 
 I have had a special revelation ; the entire senior class 
 has been sealed to me, and I am going to marry the two 
 other classes so as to make a complete job of it." 
 
 " But the senior and junior classes have engaged 
 themselves to me," replied Dunbar. ** I proposed to them 
 yesterday, and they said that they could love me alone." 
 
 " Can't help that,*' said Jones ; " I have arranged the 
 matter with the Prophet and the parents. The entire 
 concern has been offered me in marriage, and I am now 
 on my way to see Mrs. Ballygag, and to get her to wind 
 up the term and graduate them at once." 
 
 "This is maddening ! " exclaimed Dunbar. ''Jones, 
 the affections of those classes have been given to me 
 their young hearts are mine. What right have you to 
 come in and trample rudely upon the holiest emotions of 
 your fellow-creatures ? " 
 
 " The best of rights, in this case," said Jones. " It 
 has been revealed to me that my duty is to annex this 
 boarding-school. It is a sacred obligation. There is not 
 a bit of use, you know, Dunbar, in your kicking against 
 the decrees of the church." 
 
 " But you don't want the whole thirty- two of them ? " 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 13 
 
 "Yes, sir; I want them all. I claim them as my 
 bride/' 
 
 "I love them all dearly," said Dunbar ; "but sooner 
 than have any luss I'll let you pick sixteen, if you'll leave 
 me the rest." 
 
 " No ; I shall take them all. But I don't know : 
 maybe, I might agree to leave you the one with warm 
 hair and freckles. My heart, somehow, doesn't throb 
 wildly for her." 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Dunbar. 
 
 " Oh, very well, then. Let her alone. I'll pool her in 
 with the rest." 
 
 The eye of Thompson Dunbar flashed fire. Step- 
 ping up to Arbutus Jones, he whispered fiercely in his ear : 
 
 " You think you will marry this school. Never ! 
 never ! I swear it ! My faith is pledged to the women 
 of my love, and they shall be mine. Mark what I say ! 
 I shall make them my wife ! " 
 
 Arbutus Jones opened the gate, and, turning away 
 with a light laugh, he said, ** Dunbar, don't talk like an 
 idiot," and then he walked up to the porch, pulled the 
 door-bell, and called for Mrs. Ballygag. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar sauntered sadly down the street, 
 meditating upon his plans. Secretly he entered his office, 
 and writing thirty-two letters, he dispatched them through 
 the post, and then went towards the livery-stable. 
 
 Midnight came. Dark, cold, and silent. The belated 
 wayfarer, walking into town, was startled to perceive, 
 rushing by him in the gloom, a man, who seemed to be 
 carrying a coil of rope upon his arm. Behind him eight 
 carriages proceeded slowly, and with little noise. 
 
1 4 THOMPSON D UNBAR. 
 
 ** A midnight funeral procession." the traveller thought. 
 
 The man stopped in front of Mrs. Ballygag's mansion. 
 The carriages halted by the kerbstone, a hundred yards 
 below. The man opened the gate noiselessly, and walked 
 quickly around to the side of the house. He uttered a 
 low whistle, and a sash in a second-story window was 
 carefully raised. He flung toward it the end of a rope, 
 which was seized and hauled until a ladder of rope 
 stretched from the window to the ground. 
 
 " Come, dearest." said Thompson Dunbar, in a loud 
 whisper. ** Do not be afraid. I will catch you if you fall.*' 
 Then the form of a lithe and graceful girl emerged from 
 the window, and glided slowly, but easily down the frail 
 ladder. Then another descended. Then another, until 
 thirty- two lithe and graceful girls had reached the ground. 
 As they came, Thompson Dunbar clasped them one by 
 one in his arms, and kissed them fervently, pointing the 
 way to the carriages. 
 
 The last one whispered in his ravished ear that the 
 thirty-two trunks were standing, ready packed, in the 
 chamber above, and that Thompson had better see to 
 getting them down. But the idea did not seem to strike 
 Thompson. He asked himself what love had to do with 
 trunks ? He thought how little pure affection cares for 
 material things. He knew that he was ready to die for 
 his darlings. That would be heroic. But to carry thirty- 
 two trunks down a rope-ladder, he considered, in the 
 strictest sense, a prosaic performance. Did Romeo 
 shoulder Juliet's trunk ? Did Paul take Virginia upon one 
 arm. and her trunk upon the other ? Did Petrarch inter- 
 rupt his sweet converse with Laura with struggles with 
 
HIE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 15 
 
 her luggage? He thought not. Let the trunks remain 
 as a souvenir with Mrs. Ballygag. He gloated over the 
 thought that she and Jones would weep tears of anguish 
 and helpless rage over those leathern receptacles 
 
 He went toward the carriages. They were all filled, 
 and the doors were closed. He mounted upon the seat 
 with the driver of the foremost one, and said : 
 
 '' Drive like mad, now ! Forty dollars extra for you, 
 if you reach Ogden by daylight ! " 
 
 The vehicles dashed onward swiftly through the night. 
 Over rough roads, down through canons, through dense 
 forests, over mighty hills, along the brow of more than 
 one precipice ; scaring the fox and the rabbit that lay in 
 the path ; waking the echoes of the passes, and defying 
 the winds which blew in gusty blasts from the mountain 
 tops. 
 
 It was a long and difficult ride. It would have been 
 tedious for Thompson and his bride, but for the thought 
 that each moment brought them nearer to the wedded 
 bliss which is the holiest joy that has ever sweetened 
 human life. 
 
 The day was faintly breaking over the summits of the 
 Wasatch range when the procession entered Ogden. 
 Thompson ordered his companion to drive at once to the 
 house of Bishop Potts. The Bishop's dwelling showed 
 no signs of life. He was asleep with his family at that 
 early hour. Thompson rang the door bell fiercely. The 
 Bishop's grey head was thrust from the window. 
 
 " Who is making all that racket down there ? " he said 
 ** What's the matter ? What do you want ? " 
 
 *' It's I, Thompson Dunbar! I've run over from the 
 
1 6 THOMPSON D UNBAR. 
 
 city to be married. Hurry down and perform the cere- 
 mony, please." 
 
 ** Can't you get married at some less unearthly hour 
 than this ? I've been up all night with the twins and 
 sixteen others of the children, and four of Mrs. Potts have 
 not had a wink of sleep, and here you come routing us 
 out just as we are dozing off ! I'll marry you after break- 
 fast. There is no hurry about it, I reckon." 
 
 ** But there is a hurry though. I've eloped with Mrs. 
 Ballygag's boarding school. It loved me, and they 
 wanted to marry it to another man, Arbutus Jones, you 
 know ; so it fled with me. We are bent on instantaneous 
 consolidation ! *' 
 
 ** How many of her are there ?" asked the Bishop. 
 
 " Only thirty-two." 
 
 * And you're single 1 '* 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very well. That'll do to begin with, but a man 
 of your standing must disembowel a couple more 
 boarding schools if you want to hold your own in the 
 church! I'll come down and see what I can do for 
 you." 
 
 Thompson helped his bride to alight, and a most charm- 
 ing picture she presented, standing there in a row in the 
 early morning light, blushing with modest joy beneath the 
 smiles and caresses of her devoted lover. While she 
 waited for the Bishop she engaged in a simultaneous 
 arrangement of her back hair. Thompson thought she 
 had never appeared so lovely as when, holding the front 
 strands in her mouth, the whole thirty- two of her twisted 
 up her tresscS; and inserted her combs in them. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 1 7 
 
 A moment later the front door opened, and the Bishop 
 appeared in dressing-gown and shppers. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar ushered the bride into the Bishop's draw- 
 ing-room, and seated her upon the sofas and chairs. 
 Then he drew the Bishop aside. 
 
 " By the way, Bishop, what are you going to charge .'* 
 What are your rates ? ^ 
 
 " Well," said the Bishop, smiHng, " where there is only 
 one couple my regular fee is two dollars. But of course 
 I allow a discount on wholesale transactions. I'll tell you 
 what I'll do. Seeing that you are a young man, and 
 evidently in earnest in your efforts to start properly in 
 life, I'll put you the whole lot in at forty-five dollars. 
 How's that?" 
 
 " Reasonable, very reasonable, indeed,'* said Thomp- 
 son. 
 
 *' Stand up, my dear," said the Bishop to the bride. 
 
 The bride stood up in a semicircle, while in the 
 doorway gathered seven or eight of the Bishop's wife, to 
 witness the impressive scene. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar then advanced, and taking from 
 the pocket of his coat tail a quarter of a peck of gold 
 rings he put them in his hat and handed them to the 
 Bishop, who began the service. 
 
 ** Thompson Dunbar, you take these women for your 
 wedded wife? You promise to love, honour, and cherish?" 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar said, " I do." 
 
 The Bishop, turning to the bride, said 
 
 *'Emma, Henrietta, Louisa, Geraldine, Polly, Mary 
 Jane, Matilda, Gertrude, Lucy, Imogene, Sally, Rebecca, 
 
1 8 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 Maria, Georgine. Hetty, Columbia, Martha, Caroline, 
 Patty, Julia, Emily, Anastasia, Rachel, Sapphira, Ethel- 
 berta, Hannah, Josephine, Bertie, Mignon, Patience, 
 Agatha, Ann Jane you take this man to be your wedded 
 husband? You promise to love, honour, and obey?" 
 etc., etc. 
 
 And the bride said she did, and she would. 
 
 Then Thompson, with gladness in his eyes, and wild 
 emotions in his bosom, took the hat from the Bishop and 
 walked around the semi-circle of the bride, and placed 
 the rings on her fingers. Then the Bishop pronounced 
 them man and wife; and Thompson started around 
 the bridal curve again to clasp her in succession to his 
 heart. 
 
 He was just releasing himself from the twenty-sixth 
 clasp when a wild tumult was heard in the street ; the 
 noise of hurrying wheels, the quick tramp of horses, a 
 crying of voices. The Bishop went to the casement to 
 ascertain the cause of the tumult which disturbed the 
 happy marriage festivities. Before he reached the win- 
 dow the door was hurled open with violence, and in 
 rushed Arbutus Jones. Behind him was Mrs. Ballygag. 
 
 Jones was white and breathless. Mrs. Ballygag panted, 
 and brandished in a threatening manner a protuberant 
 umbrella. 
 
 " Stop ! stop!" shouted Jones, as he projected himselt 
 into the room. ** Don't go on ! I forbid the marriage ! 
 these women are to be my wife! This man is a depraved 
 villain! I command you, Bishop, not to perform the 
 ceremony ! " 
 
 ** Don't you dare to do it, you grey haired old mon- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 19 
 
 ster ! ^ shrieked Mrs. Ballygag, menacing him with her 
 umbrella. " You do it at your peril ! *' 
 
 " I think," said the Bishop, serenely, " you had better 
 try to be calmer. Try to restrain your emotion, as the 
 weather is too warm for violent excitement." 
 
 " Let 'em go on," said Dunbar. "It makes no differ- 
 ence if they get their emotional thermometers up to a 
 hundred and ten in the shade ; nobody cares." 
 
 "You don't care, hey.'*" exclaimed Mrs. Ballygag, 
 " you don't care ! TU make you care if there's any law in 
 the land. Coming round people's houses with rope-ladders 
 in the middle of the night, stealing their poor defenceless 
 children ! I'll see if you don't care !'* 
 
 " Children, madam ? " said the Bishop. 
 
 " Pretty tough children, these 1" said Thompson, wav- 
 ing his hand toward the bride. 
 
 " Yes, children," replied Mrs. Ballygag, " mere babes 
 and sucklings. Getting married, you baggage!" said 
 she, looking at the bride. " You're in a nice condition 
 to think about marriage ! How do you bound Nova 
 Scotia ? Tell me this instant 1 Don't know ? I thought 
 not! Don't know how to bound Nova Scotia don't 
 know that the Tropic of Capricorn is not one of the 
 United States ; don't know that the Peloponnesian war 
 was not fought by negroes in Canada West, and yet you 
 consider yourselves fitted for the responsibilities of mat- 
 rimony ! It's simply too ridiculous to be discussed." 
 
 ** I am sorry, madam, that they are ignorant of the 
 geographical facts connected with the Peloponnesian war, 
 but we will try to be happy while we study them up to- 
 gether/' 
 
20 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " You will never study them together," remarked 
 Arbutus Jones ** These ladies return at once with me." 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Mrs. Ballygag ; " they go back to 
 school to-day. I shall put them on bread and water, and 
 give them fifteen extra sums a-piece in Reduction of 
 Compound Numbers." 
 
 " They will no^ go back, I think," said Thompson. 
 
 " We'll see about that," replied Jones. " Girls, leave 
 the room ! " 
 
 ** Don't go ! " said Thompson. 
 
 ^' Attend to your own business ! " exclaimed Arbutus, 
 fiercely. 
 
 "If you speak to me in that manner again, 111 throw 
 you out of the window ! " said Dunbar. 
 
 " Lay your hand upon me and you are a dead man," 
 replied Arbutus, drawing a revolver. 
 
 " Two can play at that game," said Thompson, 
 quickly drawing another. 
 
 What the result might have been if the dispute had 
 proceeded further can only be conjectured ; but as soon 
 as the weapons were produced, the bride shrieked wildly, 
 and the whole thirty-two o^ her fell fainting on the floor, 
 while Mrs. Ballygag collapsed, and embracing her um- 
 brella, sank unconscious in the corner. 
 
 For a moment, wild confusion prevailed ; but the 
 Bishop retained his presence of mind, and running into 
 the garden, he seized a huge watering-pot, and bringing it 
 in, he sprinkled the faces of the bride with water until 
 one by one she revived. Mrs Ballygag came to without 
 assistance, and sat up looking the picture of distress. 
 
 When all of the party were restored, the Bishop said ; 
 
"Two can play at that game, baid 'Ihompbon. ^a^e 20. 
 
2 2 THOMPSON D UNBAR. 
 
 " Let us have no more of these scenes ! Mr. Jones, 
 it is my duty to inform you that you have come 
 too late. Mr. Dunbar is already married to these 
 ladies.'' 
 
 ** Married ! " shouted Jones. 
 
 * Married!" shrieked Mrs. Ballygag, 
 
 ** Married," replied the Bishop and Thompson. 
 
 '*This is infamous," said Arbutus. "Dunbar, you 
 have played me a scurvy trix:k. But I shall be even with 
 you." 
 
 "You can have any satisfaction you want," replied 
 Dunbar. " But, I say, Jones, how about that revelation ? 
 Crooked, wasn't it ? Didn't reveal so very much after 
 all?" 
 
 ** We shall see ! " exclaimed Jones ; and then smash- 
 ing his hat down savagely upon his head, he left the 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Ballygag began to cry. 
 
 " You have treated me shamefully," she said. ** The 
 last quarter's bills of these girls are not paid. I can't have 
 any commencement ; the reputation of the school is 
 ruined; and I am a poor lone widow- woman, with no- 
 body to help me ! " 
 
 And Mrs. Ballygag sank down upon a sofa and sobbed 
 violently. 
 
 Then the bride began to cry also. It was altogether 
 too melancholy for a wedding. The Bishop drew Thomp- 
 son aside. 
 
 ** Dunbar," he whispered, ** you'll have to do some- 
 thing for this woman. You must do the fair thing." 
 
 " What do you recommend ? " 
 
THE^ TRAGEDY OF 23 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, if I were you, Td marry her. 
 just throw her in with the rest, as a kind of job lot* 
 You might as well go the whole figure, while you're 
 at it." 
 
 " I suppose I might. I'll take her.'* 
 
 " I'll charge you only twenty- five cents extra for tying 
 the knot," said the benevolent Bishop. 
 
 ** You propose it to her," said Thompson. 
 
 ** Mrs. Ballygag," said the Bishop, " how would you 
 like to marry Mr. Dunbar, in with the rest ? He says he 
 is wiUing." 
 
 With a wild cry of joy, Mrs. Ballygag rushed forward 
 and threw her arms about Dunbar's neck and nestled her 
 head in his bosom. 
 
 " Do you love me, Thompson ?" she asked, looking up 
 at him. 
 
 '* Well, yes ; that is, of course, as it were, to a to a 
 to a certain extent ! Take your umbrella off my toe, 
 please ; the pressure is too severe !" 
 
 '* Then take me, take me !" she exclaimed. " I'll help 
 you manage the girls." 
 
 The girls looked as if they were not bursting with 
 ecstasy ; but they wanted to be submissive to Thompson, 
 and so they said nothing. 
 
 Then Dunbar took Mrs. Ballygag by the hand, the 
 Bishop began the ceremony, and in a few moments she 
 was made a thirty-third of him. 
 
24 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Upon the homeward journey most of the bride rode in 
 the eight carriages, while the joyous groom occupied his 
 former seat with the coachman of the foremost vehicle. 
 The recent Mrs. Ballygag, however, was compelled by 
 the want of room also to ride with one of the drivers. 
 She entertained him during the journey by a cross-exami- 
 nation, the purpose of which was to ascertain if, in his 
 opinion, a horse is an adverb or a preposition, and if he 
 knew how to multiply vulgar fractions. When he re- 
 marked to her, " I ain't got no use for a hymn-book," she 
 parsed the sentence for him, and showed him clearly how 
 tv/o negatives make an affirmative. 
 
 Whenever his horses were disposed to go slowly, she 
 prodded them savagely with the ferule of her umbrella, 
 and sometimes when the portion of the bride which was 
 riding in the carriage beneath her laughed too boiste- 
 rously, she would reach over and push her umbrella in at 
 the window two or three times to indicate her disapproba- 
 tion of such scandalous behaviour. 
 
 Altogether, it is believed that the late widow Ballygag 
 enjoyed the trip exceedingly. But it is doubtful if the 
 driver did ; and it is certain Thompson did not, at least, 
 during the periods when they were passing along the 
 edges of the precipices, and she was constantly scream- 
 ing for him to come and save her from being dashed to 
 pieces. 
 
 At last, however, Salt Lake City was reached, and the 
 bridal party was taken at once to Dunbar's modest little 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 25 
 
 cottage. When the bride had all dismounted and entered 
 the drawing-room, Thompson whispered to the late Mrs. 
 Ballygag that there were four of his wife to whom he had 
 not yet been formally introduced, and he begged her to 
 perform the ceremony. She did so, remarking at the 
 same time to the girls 
 
 " Your husband is a good and worthy man, and I want 
 you to behave well towards him. I am going to keep an 
 eye on you to see that you do it, too !'' 
 
 The honeymoon passed blissfully. Thompson Dun- 
 bar was by profession a sailor, and having no ship at this 
 time he was at liberty to devote himself wholly to domes- 
 tic life. He purchased new furniture for his house. He 
 made a contract with the calico factory for permanent 
 supplies of dress goods, and the factory at once put in 
 extra looms and employed more hands. He bought bon- 
 nets with a recklessness that threatened bankruptcy. He 
 established relations with a candy manufacturer, which 
 guaranteed him the few tons of chocolate drops that he 
 required at lower rates than usual. In fact, he launched 
 himself fairly and equally upon the sea of wedded life. 
 
 Wedded hfe ! Ah, how few of us understand those 
 words as they came to Thompson Dunbar and his bride ! 
 To how few have they so rich and beautiful a meaning ! 
 Many of us think that we have had sweet experiences 
 within the sacred precincts of the home ; but not to many 
 of us is it given to have thirty-four souls with but a single 
 thought thirty-four hearts that beat as one. The man 
 who sits down with one wife by his hearthstone, and thinks 
 he is happy, knows nothing of the tenderer joy of him who, 
 around a hearthstone twenty feet square, gathers thirty- 
 
2 6 THOMPSON D UNBAR, 
 
 two sweet faces (the recent Mrs. Ballygag was homely), 
 and looks love into all of those eyes that speak again. 
 Such a man has a nobler affection, a loftier aim, a purer 
 ambition, a mightier impulse to dash into the struggle 
 of life and win his bread. Who would not toil valiantly 
 with thirty-three smiles waiting to welcome him home, 
 and thirty-three hungry women to nourish ? 
 
 Thompson Dunbar was proud, and he had a right to 
 be. Never once in the early days of his married Hfe did 
 anything happen to cloud his domestic sky ; excepting, 
 perhaps, on one occasion, when the relict of the lamented 
 Ballygag hid the kitten in his boot and forgot to tell him 
 about it ; and never did he have any doubts of the future 
 excepting when he reflected upon the anguish he should 
 suffer when his duty should call him away from those he 
 lov^ed. 
 
 And the painful summons came at last. He was 
 ordered to join his ship at San Francisco. She was about 
 to sail upon a three years' cruise. Three years ! It 
 seemed intolerable to be separated so long from his dar- 
 lings. Poor Dunbar ! If he could have foreseen the 
 trials that were in store for him ! 
 
 The hour of parting arrived. Let us draw a veil over 
 the scene. There are some things too sacred for the vul- 
 gar eye ; some episodes in a man's life, of which to speak 
 lightly were a profanation. Mrs. Dunbar clung to him, of 
 course. Ah, may none of us ever know the agony of such 
 a farewell. May we never know what a husband suffers 
 to whom thirty- three wives are clinging in desperate woe. 
 
 He tore himself away ! He was gone I Gone ! And 
 three groups of eleven each of heart-broken women sank 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 27 
 
 upon the front steps and sobbed in bitter despair. Then 
 they flew to the windows and gazed after him, and waved 
 their kerchiefs to him, excepting perhaps the aforetime 
 Ballygag, who, in the violence of her emotion, waved 
 a flannel petticoat which she had been mending. 
 
 Little did they suspect what they should endure ere 
 they looked upon that fond face again ! Life is so full 
 
 of disappointments, so full of But, however, let us 
 
 go on. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar sailed away upon the bosom of the 
 mighty deep. For some weeks all was well. The trea- 
 cherous ocean held its powers in leash. One night there 
 was a fearful tempest, and the gallant barque, after a pro- 
 longed contest with the elements, sank to rise no more. 
 All on board were lost ; all save one. Lashed to a spar 
 Thompson Dunbr.r contrived to sustain himself in the 
 seething foam for four days. Upon the morning of the 
 fifth day he was cast upon a desert island. He crawled 
 out of the reach of the waves and fell asleep. He slum- 
 bered long, and when he awoke he released himself from 
 the spar, and looked about him. He perceived that the 
 island was small. It was only fifteen feet wide by thirty- 
 eight feet long ; but Dunbar was satisfied with it. It was 
 something for him to stand upon, to live upon. 
 
 Feeling hungry, he walked out looking to find some- 
 thing to eat. He discovered a bed of fine oysters in a 
 little cove at the northern end of the island, and to his 
 great joy he found that a huge hole in the rock contained 
 a dozen hogsheads of rain water ! These things were so 
 exceedingly fortunate that he felt sure of going through 
 the regular round of desert island experiences. But in 
 
2 8 THOMPSON D UNBAR, 
 
 this he was, to a certain extent, disappointed. The oysters 
 and water remained, of course, and now and then some 
 sociable bird would call and leave an egg, but none of 
 the usual desert island conveniences floated ashore. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar remained upon the island for fifteen 
 years ; but when his clothing began to wear out no vessel 
 was wrecked upon an adjacent and handy reef, and all 
 the crew drowned, so that he could have a fair chance at 
 the chests which contained clothing that fitted him 
 exactly. 
 
 And no other ship was cast ashore into which he 
 entered and found twenty bags full of Spanish doubloons, 
 which he gazed at with proud contempt, while the thought 
 occurred to him how useless such dross is, especially 
 when you are on a desert island, with no possibility of 
 spending it. 
 
 And he did not find in the cabin of such a wreck 
 double-barrelled guns and carpenter's tools, and canned 
 fruits and vegetables, and such a general variety of useful 
 and fancy articles as no ship ever included in a single 
 cargo, excepting perhaps in cases where the purpose of 
 the owners was to have been wrecked to oblige some 
 Robinson Crusoe or other, and to make him fat and com- 
 fortable. 
 
 And when he felt lonely and longed for fellowship and 
 the sweet communion of some kindred soul, it did not 
 happen that a squad of chocolate-coloured cannibals 
 dashed up in a canoe, and were all killed by a single 
 explosion of a musket ; all save one, who fell at Dun- 
 bar's feet, and became his slave and his pupil and his 
 riend. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 29 
 
 On the contrary, Dunbar had a particularly prosaic 
 time upon the island ; eating and sleeping and walking 
 about. After the first shock produced by his sense of 
 isolation had passed, he surveyed the island and made a 
 map of it. Then he took possession of it in the name 
 of his government, and formally annexed it to the United 
 States by hoisting a flag made of a felicitous combina- 
 tion of his handkerchief and his red flannel shirt. In 
 order to put in the time, and to give himself occupation 
 congenial to an American, he held elections thrice a 
 year, and he celebrated the 4th of July and Washington's 
 birthday, when they came around, by reading the Decla- 
 ration of Independence, and singing the " Star Spangled 
 Banner.*' 
 
 But his wife ! Did he ever think of her ? Ah, yes ! 
 The bitterness of that separation no tongue can tell. 
 Often he would lie upon his back and take from his pocket 
 the thirty-three miniatures and look at them with longing 
 and tearful eyes. And he would get to wondering which 
 was Emma, which was Rebecca, which Columbia, and 
 which Sapphira. The lineaments of Ballygag were the 
 only ones he felt certain about, but, somehow he never 
 lingered very long over them. 
 
 And he would ask himself if any of her ever thought 
 much of him. He would wonder if she was all alive, or 
 if, perchance, some of her counted him dead, and had 
 remarried. Perchance she had departed, sorrowful and 
 broken-hearted, and only thirty-three little grassy mounds 
 in the churchyard remained to mark the remains of her 
 who once had been the joy of his life. 
 
 It might be that if he should ever return home he 
 
*' Often he would lie on his back and take from his pocket the thirty- 
 three miniatures and look at them." Page 29. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 31 
 
 would find his cottage desolate, with no one to love, none 
 to caress, and it would devolve upon him to begin life 
 afresh by embezzling another boarding-school. The 
 thought was bitterness to him. Only those who have 
 learned from a sad experience what it is to lose three 
 and-thirty wives at a blow, can realize the depth and in- 
 tensity of the sufferings of this unhappy young man. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE VICTORY OF JONES. 
 
 Meantime, how did Mrs. Dunbar bear the bereavement 
 that had come to her ? For the first three or four years 
 she was hopeful ; but gradually, as the time passed swiftly 
 by, and no word came to her from the wanderer, she 
 began to feel the growing agony of despair. 
 
 Often she would go up as the evening shadows fell, 
 and stand at each of the thirty-three windows, and gaze 
 out toward the glowing west, straining all sixty-five of 
 her eyes (Ethelberta had a cataract), to catch a glimpse 
 of her Thompson. But, alas 1 Thompson did not come ; 
 and as a feeling of deep sadness stole in over her souls, 
 Mrs. Dunbar would bow her heads over the infants in her 
 arms and weep. Perhaps she would wail out her woes in 
 a plaintive lullaby, which was so distorted by her sobs 
 that Ballygag's former partner would stop long enough to 
 scold her for singing flat, and not marking the dotted 
 notes with sufficient distinctness. 
 
 The misery of a suffering woman's heart ! Who shall 
 
32 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 sound it ? And what multiplication table can compass it 
 where it is thirty-three times increased ? There are some 
 conundrums that have to be given up at the outset. 
 
 At last, however, she was forced to the conclusion that 
 Thompson was dead. It was inevitable. The ship had 
 never been heard from. No message had ever come up 
 from the roaring sea, to tell the story of her destruction. 
 She was gone ; and, without doubt, Thompson had gone 
 down fathoms deep into the cruel waters with her. Mrs. 
 Dunbar abandoned hope, and decided to mourn for him 
 as one that had been called away to another life. 
 
 As soon as her determination became known, and she 
 began to talk about putting on mourning the city mer- 
 chants noted an advance of two per cent, in crape and 
 black bombazine, and the bachelor Saints began to have 
 revelations concerning their duty to persuade her from 
 prolonging the period of her widowhood. 
 
 Arbutus Jones was enabled to perceive with perfect 
 cHarness, what were his obligations in the premises. He 
 made up his mind that the anguish of Mrs. Dunbar could 
 be assuaged only by sweet words of consolation from his 
 lips. He called early to offer his sympathies, and after- 
 wards he would go around often in the evenings and talk 
 with her about the virtues of the departed Thompson, for 
 whom, however, it was impossible for him to feel any but 
 a fictitious enthusiasm. 
 
 After a while, he became more assiduous in his atten- 
 tions, and he felt, reviving in his bosom, with all its vehe- 
 ment force, the love he had for her when she was maid- 
 ens. Often he would lead her forth in the twilight, and, 
 while as many of her Uttle han is as he could conveniently 
 
:>'^< -^ViY \ ::x^^''^^. 
 
 :^ 
 
 While as many of her little hands as he could conveniently hold, lay 
 cnfidingly in his." -P^^^ 32. 
 
 3 
 
34 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 hold, lay confidingly in his, they would stroll to some 
 quiet, grassy dell, and she would arrange herself in a 
 circle by the side of a babbling brook, while he sat in 
 the centre, and whispered soft words of love to her, and 
 walked around, and pressed each of her hands, and let 
 the love light of his eyes shine on her faces, and warm to 
 life the flickering flame in her hearts. 
 
 One evening he proposed to her in a lump. He asked 
 her to be his. The Ballygag was the first to speak. She 
 said : 
 
 *' Have you examined your heart, Arbutus.'* Do you 
 love us truly ? " 
 
 *' Certainly ! Of course ! Most of you, anyway. How- 
 ever, sooner than lacerate your feelings, I am willing to 
 count you out, and permit you to cling to the memory of 
 Thompson." 
 
 " But Tm the one that can't be counted out. If you 
 love me, I am yours ! " 
 
 *' I am willing to sacrifice my love for your sake, to 
 save your feelings." 
 
 *' You are too noble," said the late Mrs. B. " I cannot 
 consent to such an act of heroic devotion upon your 
 part." 
 
 '* I think you would be happier, maybe, without me. 
 ni start you in another boarding-school." 
 
 ** Loving heart ! And do you think I would be willing 
 to accept such unselfish kindness, when I could not repay 
 you by watching over you ? Never ! " 
 
 **And then you know,'' said Jones, " Dunbar might 
 eventually turn up and it would be so comforting for him 
 to have at least one of his wives remaining to him. So 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 35 
 
 upon the whole, perhaps, I had better let you float along 
 as you are." 
 
 " Ah ! Arbutus ! I love you more than ever when you 
 show yourself so ready to surrender your own joy for the 
 good of others. Take me, oh take me to your fond 
 bosom ! " 
 
 And the former Mrs. Ballygag fell towards him with a 
 purpose to be folded to his heart ; but Jones, with remark- 
 able presence of mind, pretended not to see her, and 
 addressed himself assiduously to the task of assisting 
 Sapphira to rise from the ground. Then the whole of 
 Mrs. Dunbar rose, and retiring a little space, went into 
 committee to consider the question. After an animated 
 deba4;e, during which the Ballygag gave her views the 
 fullest and most generous expression, Mrs. Dunbar 
 decided by a vote of twenty-nine to three (the woman 
 with the cataract not voting) to become the wife of Arbu- 
 tus Jones ! 
 
 Jones learned the decision with transports. One by 
 one his sweetheart was held in his fond embrace, as he 
 kissed her and promised to be true to her ; and one by 
 one, as she looked into his manly face and found there 
 the radiant joy of pure affection, she was filled with trust- 
 fulness and peace, and with him went back to her home 
 full of blissful anticipations of a future which should com- 
 pensate for all the suffering of the sorrowful past. 
 
 Mr. Jones was very anxious to be married speedily ; 
 but the widow, of course, pressed for such delay as would 
 be necessary to enable her to prepare new outfits of 
 clothing. There are always stirring times in the busi- 
 ness of a community when a Mormon wife or widow 
 
36 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 begins to make a movement in the matter of clothes. In 
 this case, the appearance of Mrs. Dunbar unexpectedly 
 in the market, caused such a revival in trade, that the 
 merchants began to buy houses and lots, and to set up 
 carriages under the impression that a new era of pros- 
 perity had begun. But eventually Mrs. Dunbar was 
 ready, and the day was fixed. She expressed a preference 
 for Bishop Potts, of Ogden, as the officiating clergyman, 
 because she was used to him, and, of course, Jones asked 
 the worthy Bishop to come over and tie the knots. 
 
 The wedding attracted a good deal of attention in 
 Salt Lake City. Jones sailed up the aisle of the temple 
 with Sapphira and Ethelberta upon each arm, while fifteen 
 of his best friends each convoyed two others of .Mrs. 
 Dunbar. The sexton brought up the rear with the ex- 
 widow Ballygag, who honoured the occasion by turning 
 out in a green bonnet with yellow ostrich feathers, a 
 crimson poplin dress embroidered with blue, with a new 
 false front upon her head, and with a look of beaming 
 happiness bursting through her gold spectacles. 
 
 The ceremony occupied but a few moments, and 
 when the Bishop having made these thirty four one flesh, 
 the procession turned, passed down the aisle again, 
 entered the carriages, and went to the home that was 
 once Dunbar's, but now had come into the possession 
 of Jones. 
 
 Dunbar ! how he would have been torn with agony if 
 he, far away upon that lonely island of the sea, could 
 have witnessed that scene in the temple ! But this tor- 
 ture was mercifully spared him. At the moment when 
 his loving wife was given to another by the Bishop, 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 37 
 
 Thompson was splitting oysters open with his jack-knife, 
 and thinking how uncommonly good they would be with 
 horse-radish. No voice whispered the truth to him. 
 No pangs of the heart interfered with the vigour of his 
 gastric juice ! 
 
 Of the domestic life which came to Arbutus Jones, 
 with the golden days which followed the wedding, we 
 need not speak. It passed away sweetly and brought 
 him perfect contentment. But one day, a month or two 
 after the marriage, Arbutus, upon his return home, found 
 an elderly lady whom he did not know occupying a seat 
 at his dinner-table. He thought at first it might be one 
 of his wife, so he counted the row of her, and found that 
 there were thirty-four women instead of thirty-three. A 
 moment later Sapphira introduced the stranger as her 
 mother. 
 
 " She has come to stay with us. Arbutus, dear, upon 
 my invitation. I longed to have her with me, and I 
 knew you would welcome her for my sake. Won't you, 
 darling ?'* 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! Glad to see her ! Very glad ! Of 
 course. She is always welcome here !" 
 
 But Jones did not look as if he were really glad. A 
 dark foreboding entered his rnind. The precedent was 
 bad ; it was dangerous . If this kind of thing began, 
 where was it going to stop ? That was the question that 
 he asked himself, with gloom in his soul and a scowl 
 upon his brow. 
 
 Two days later Mary Jane's mother arrived. Mary 
 Jane said that she had invited her mother down to spend 
 the summer, and to give her a chance to learn to 
 
38 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 her son-in-law. Arbutus forced a smile as he welcomed 
 her, but it was not difficult to see that his mother-in-law 
 would have to labour hard to induce him to return her love. 
 
 The following week Ethelberta's mother came, osten- 
 sibly for the purpose of superintending an operation 
 upon Ethelberta's cataract. But Arbutus saw plainly- 
 through the pretence. He was far too acute a man not 
 to know that a woman who comes for the purpose of wit- 
 nessing an operation upon a cataract is not necessarily 
 accompanied by six trunks, eleven boxes, a bedstead, two 
 bureaus, a sewing-machine, a cooking-stove, a poll par- 
 rot, and a cat. She had come to stay. He knew it, and 
 he grated his teeth as he strove to bear it patiently. 
 
 A month passed, and at intervals mothers-in-law con- 
 tinued to arrive, until there was a sum total of twenty- 
 one in Jones's house. He began to grow desperate. 
 One day he called the Ballygag aside. He asked her if 
 she had a mother. She said she had not. 
 
 Arbutus clasped her in his arms and kissed her 
 tenderly. She was amazed. He had not been lavish of 
 caresses with her. She asked for an explanation. He 
 said 
 
 *' I adore a woman who has lost her parents. Ah, 
 Lucille !'* (her name was Lucille), " my only regret now 
 is that you didn't keep an orphan asylum instead of a 
 boarding-school, when Dunbar eloped with your establish- 
 ment." 
 
 As he spoke thus the door-bell rang. Lucille went out 
 to see who was there. When she returned, she said the 
 mothers of Columbia and Emma had just arrived with 
 two waggon-loads of trunks and furniture. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 39 
 
 Arbutus shuddered. 
 
 "This is terrible, Mrs. Bally Lucille, I mean. If 
 this thing continues I shall go mad. I did not bargain 
 for this. Twenty-three of them already twenty-three 
 mothers-in-law ! My reason will totter on its throne T* 
 
 "Yes/' said the former Mrs. B., "and Henrietta and 
 Sarah and Matilda told me that they had written this 
 morning for their mothers to come on and live here ; and 
 Sarah said she had invited one of her aunts also." 
 
 A spasm of pain flitted over the face of Arbutus Jones. 
 He sat down upon a chair. Was the curse come upon 
 him ? Were the fates preparing for him a scorpion whip 
 of retribution for his destruction of Dunbar's hopes of 
 happiness ? We cannot tell. Maybe we wouldn't tell if 
 we could. 
 
 While he sat there trying to think what he should do 
 to avert the calamity that was overpowering him, a ser- 
 vant entered with a telegram. Jones tore it open and 
 read it. 
 
 " Wh wh what's this t * My dear son-in-law : Meet 
 me at the train on Tuesday. I am coming to board with 
 you for a few months. I am your affectionate mother- 
 in-law.* Rebecca Fitler.' 
 
 " Rebecca Fitler ! Who what which one's she ?" 
 
 " She is Imogene's mother. I know her well. She's 
 worse about a house than the whooping-cough. Quar- 
 relled with her husband till she killed him," said 
 Lucille. ^ 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Jones, fiercely. " Twenty-six 
 mothers-in-law and an aunt ! This is refreshing ! It is 
 delightful ! Lucille, I am beginning to feel murderous I 
 
40 TIJO.MFSON DUNBAR. 
 
 If this kind of thing goes on I shall soon be in a frame 
 of mind which will make indulgence in assassination 
 seem hke pastime." 
 
 '* I'm afraid it will go on/' said the late Mrs. Bally- 
 gag, looking out of the window ; " I see Geraldine's 
 mother coming up the front yard with a carpet-bag and a 
 band-box. She makes twenty-seven ! " 
 
 ** Twenty- seven and an aunt ! " exclaimed Arbutus. 
 ** Five more to hear from 1 But we can rely upon them 
 to come, I think, can't we, Lucille ? May be I'd better 
 write to them for fear they forget it ; " and Arbutus 
 laughed a wild, hysterical laugh. 
 
 '* What are you going to do about it ? " asked the late 
 widow B. 
 
 '* Do ? What am I going to do ? I am going to do 
 something terrible ! Something desperate ! No man can 
 stand this persecution ! I don't mind having a couple of 
 dozen or so of mothers-in-law around, but the line must 
 be drawn somewhere, and I draw it at twenty-seven and 
 an aunt." 
 
 " You could get rid of them by obtaining a divorce/' 
 said Lucille. 
 
 " No ; I shan't do that. It's too expensive. Besides, 
 I don't want to give up the girls.'' 
 
 " Suppose you order the mothers to leave, and if they 
 refuse force them from the house ? " 
 
 " Won't do," said Arbutus, shaking his head thought- 
 fully. *' You don't know them. An army couldn't put 
 them out an army rigged out with Krupp guns and 
 battering rams. No, no ! We must resort to something 
 more desperate." 
 
THE TRA GED Y OF 41 
 
 " How would it do to put poison in their tea ? *' 
 
 " I can't see any profit in it. They'll die. I'll have to 
 stand the funeral expenses, and may be pay the cost of 
 the post-mo?''tem examinations.'' 
 
 *^ Well, then, blow them up with gunpowder.'* 
 
 " No, dear ; you must suggest something more practi- 
 cable. The explosion would disfigure the furniture, and it 
 would make old Partridge, the coroner, wild with joy. 
 Lucille, I hate that man with bitter hatred ; and shall I 
 do a thing that will give him thirty or forty inquests, and 
 help him to pay off the mortgage on his house ? Never, 
 my dear, never ! " 
 
 " I don't see how we can manage it, then," said the 
 Ballygag. 
 
 " Let me give you an idea," said Arbutus. " I have 
 in my mind the outlines of a malignant plot, which will 
 rid me of these women for ever. It is an awful thing to 
 do, this that I propose, but the case is desperate ; I am 
 driven to an extremity. Will you promise to help me in 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you know any of Mrs. Brigham Young." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; one of her went to school to me. She was 
 the best girl I had at grammar. She could tell a participle 
 as far as she could see it.'* 
 
 " Well," said Arbutus, ^' I want you to go to see her. 
 Tell her I will give her a thousand dollars if she will 
 persuade the Prophet to have a revelation declaring that 
 all my mothers-in-law must be sealed at once to Part- 
 ridge, the coroner ! Will you ? '* 
 
 " You must have a very deep grudge against Partridge.' 
 
42 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 " I have ! I want him to suffer. Will you go ? " 
 
 " I will ; and I think I can manage the matter for 
 you. How about Sarah's aunt } " 
 
 " Run her in with the rest I Make it as hard for 
 Partridge as we can. Give him the whole twenty eight." 
 
 " I'll go around at once/' said Lucille, and she left the 
 room. 
 
 A gleam of savage exultation shone from Jones's eyes, 
 as he thought of the probable completeness of his venge- 
 ance. In an hour the Bally gag returned. It was all 
 fixed. She had a promise that the order would be issued 
 the next morning. 
 
 Sure enough, next morning Partridge called, looking 
 livid with rage. 
 
 " Where," said he to Jones, *' are these preposterous 
 old hags that you are trying to shove off on me ? Where 
 are they .'* Trot 'em out so's I can see 'em." 
 
 " See here, Partridge, I don't want you to speak in 
 that disrespectful manner of my wife's mothers. What 
 do you want to see them for ? " 
 
 " Oh, you needn't pretend you don't know. I'm 
 mighty certain you fixed this thing up against me. But 
 I s'pose I've got to take 'em. So let's see 'em.'* 
 
 The ladies filed in. Jones announced the news to 
 them, as gently as he could. Six fainted on the spot. 
 Ten simply screamed. Three said they'd die rather than 
 marry a coroner. Three, and Sarah's aunt, smiled, and 
 said they considered it as, upon the whole, rather a good 
 thing. 
 
 " Well, I don't," replied Partridge. " To speak plainly 
 you're a discouraging-looking crowd. See here, you 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 43 
 
 women who are screaming there, you needn't carry on in 
 that manner. You don't want me any less than I want 
 you!" 
 
 "Partridge," said Jones, *'go about it with more 
 suavity. You can't possibly gain their affection if you 
 proceed in that manner. Woo them gently.*' 
 
 ** I don't want any interference from you," replied 
 Partridge. '' Here, you women ! Get on your things, and 
 come along. I'd commit suicide to get rid of you, 
 if it wasn't that I don't want my successor to collect 
 a fee for my remains. Come on now, and be quick 
 about it." 
 
 Then the bride and groom filed out; Mrs. Jones, 
 meantime, standing in a line in the hall weeping, while 
 Jones kept his handkerchief to his eyes and chuckled. 
 
 When Partridge reached the front gate, he turned 
 around, and, shaking his fist at Jones, he shouted : 
 
 " You never mind ! I'll pay you for this, old fellow ! " 
 
 And then the party proceeded to the temple, and soon 
 was hopelessly bound in the chains of wedlock. 
 
 Upon the departure of his wife's mothers, Jones 
 rubbed his hands, and, in a gleeful mood, danced about 
 the room with the Ballygag. He was joyful. He had 
 reason for joy. But there was a dire and awful retribu- 
 tion preparing for him. The shadow of his doom was 
 slowly creeping toward him. 
 
44 THOMPSON DUNBAR, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 Fifteen years had elapsed since Thompson Dunbar 
 tore himself away from his bride, and his happy home. 
 Fifteen years had he dragged out a dreary existence 
 upon his lonely rock in the midst of the sea. One day 
 he saw a ship approaching the island, and he made frantic 
 signals to attract the attention of those on board. Twice 
 the ship seemed to turn away from him, but at last, to 
 his great joy, his signals were answered, a boat was 
 lowered, and in half-an-hour he stood upon the deck of 
 ** The Golden Horn," bound for San Francisco. 
 
 The captain gave him a suit of clothes, and loaned him 
 some money ; and as soon as the vessel touched the 
 wharf, a few weeks later, he leaped ashore, and took the 
 first train for Salt Lake City. 
 
 Imagine the alternations of hope and despair that 
 distracted his mind ! Again and again he asked himself 
 how he should find her. Would she be all alive and well, 
 or partially dead ? Would his children be alive t Would 
 he find his home as beautiful as ever? Would he go 
 there to obtain peace and joy, or to sutler pangs of 
 terrible sorrow ? 
 
 As he mused, the train entered the city. It was early 
 afternoon. He thought he would go to the hotel and 
 learn something of the truth, before he sought his cottage. 
 It might be less terrible if he should be prepared be- 
 forehand. 
 
 The landlord of the hotel did not recognize him. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 45 
 
 His bronzed and furrowed face, his shaggy hair and 
 beard, his bent form, suggested nothing of the Thomp- 
 son Dunbar who had gone away a decade and a half 
 before, 
 
 Thompson sought information from the landlord. 
 
 "Did you know a man named Thompson Dunbar?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! Knew him well. He left here fifteen 
 or sixteen years ago. He was a sailor, you know." 
 
 " What became of him ? " 
 
 * Lost, sir, lost ! It^s supposed so, at any rate. No 
 word ever came from him, or about him. His ship was 
 wrecked, we know." 
 
 " Was he married ? " 
 
 " Married ! Ah ! that's just it, sir ! He was married 
 to thirty-three of the loveliest girls in the city. A young 
 and charming bride, and a swarm of the dearest children." 
 
 " Did Mrs. Dunbar take it hardly ?" 
 
 " Indeed she did, sir ! Cried her eyes out, nearly. 
 Went on at a most fearful rate. Everybody sympathized 
 with her." 
 
 " Is she all alive yet ? '* 
 
 '* Oh yes." 
 
 "And well?" 
 
 ** I believe so ; perfectly. She was the last time I 
 saw her.'' 
 
 ** When did you see her ? " 
 
 ** Well, I haven't seen her myself for several weeks ; 
 but my book-keeper told me he saw three of Mrs. Jones 
 out driving yesterday." 
 
 ** I was referring to Mrs. Dunbar," said Thompson, 
 
46 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " I know," replied the landlord ; " I say my clerk saw 
 three of her riding out." 
 
 ** But you said he saw Mrs. Jones." 
 
 " Well, don't I say he saw Mrs. Jones ! You seem to 
 be dull of comprehension." 
 
 " Maybe I am ; maybe I am. Only you are talking 
 about Mrs. Jones, and I am talking about Mrs. Dunbar." 
 
 " But, my goodness man ! See here ! Her name was 
 Dunbar when she was Dunbar's wife, wasn't it? And 
 when she married Jones her name was Jones. Do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Married ! is she married?" 
 
 *' Certainly ! of course ! " 
 
 " Married to Jones ! What Jones ?" 
 
 "Why, Arbutus Jones; been married several years.' 
 
 The head of Thompson Dunbar fell upon the table, 
 and he did not even try to keep back the sobs which burst 
 from his overladen heart. Then a thought occurred to 
 him. Looking up he said to the landlord : 
 
 *' And Jones ? He is dead ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; alive and well, and heartier than ever." 
 
 Thompson Dunbar arose and staggered from the 
 room. He sought the privacy of his chamber, where he 
 could weep tears of passionate grief. 
 
 An hour or two later his mind was made up. His 
 heart was broken, but he would have one long, last 
 lingering look at his darlings and his children before he 
 sought the tomb. 
 
 He seized his hat and cane, and walked rapidly 
 toward the house where he used to live. As he came 
 near to it he recognized it as the old place but little 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 47 
 
 changed. How dear it had been to him ! How much he 
 had loved it ! And now another poUuted its hearth- 
 stone. Another had whitewashed its fence I He groaned 
 as he thought of these things. 
 
 There were children playing in the yard. One hand- 
 some boy had run out into the highway after an errant 
 ball. Thompson spoke to him. The boy stopped to 
 listen. Thompson recognized the suit he had on. It had 
 been made by a pious maternal hand from Dunbar's own 
 wedding coat. 
 
 Thompson asked the boy to sit upon the grass with 
 him. 
 
 ** What is your name, my lad ? " he asked. 
 
 ** William T. Dunbar, sir," the boy replied. 
 
 " And where is your father ? " 
 
 "Drowned!" 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I know he is. Mother says so." 
 
 " Have you no other father ? " 
 
 ''Yes! old Jones!'' 
 
 "Do you love him 1 ^ 
 
 " No, sir ; not when he licks me." 
 
 " He whips you, does he V^ 
 
 " Sometimes 1 " 
 
 Dunbar felt his anger growing hot. He felt an im- 
 pulse to go in and kill Jones on the spot ; but he thought 
 better of it. 
 
 " What would you say, my dear boy," he asked, " if I 
 should tell you that your real father is not dead ? " 
 
 " I should say you were a scandalous old story-teller.'' 
 
 " But I do tell you so ! I am your father ! " 
 
48 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 The boy laughed, when he looked thoughtfully at 
 Dunbar and said : 
 
 " Did you ever read the story about George Washing- 
 ton and his little hatchet ? " 
 
 " Yes, my son." 
 
 " Well, you'd better go home and study up that story. 
 George couldn't tell a lie. There'll never be an anecdote 
 of that kind written about you." 
 
 Thompson heaved a deep sigh. He was about to 
 reason with the lad, when a sharp female voice was heard 
 calling 
 
 ** Billee ee ee ee ee ! Billee ee ee ! * 
 
 " That's me I " said the boy. " She's calhng me. I 
 must go," and he jumped from the ground. 
 
 *' Who is it ? " asked Dunbar. 
 
 " Old Ballygag, we call her," said the boy. "One of 
 pa's wives ! " 
 
 The next moment the head of Ballygag was projected 
 over the fence top, and she saw Thompson. 
 
 *' Billy," she exclaimed, *' you come into the house 
 this instant! How many times have I told you not to 
 have anything to do with those abominable tramps that 
 come loafing about here, sneaking little children away 
 from their parents, and breaking their mother's heart. 
 You'll be kidnapped the first thing you l^now, or lost 
 like your poor dear father, who went down to the bottom 
 of the Pacific Ocean and was never heard of again, 
 leastways, by any of us who ought to have heard of him 
 if he was alive and well, which he wasn't, Heaven bless 
 his soul ! for how could he be when he was bitten all to 
 pieces by the sharks ? Billy, come right in this minute ; 
 
" Billy, come right in this minute." Page 48. 
 
50 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 and you, you old vagabond, move on, and don't come 
 hanging around here looking like a long-haired lunatic, 
 scaring people's children half to death I Move on, or I'll 
 call the pohce !" 
 
 And the Ballygag grasped Billy, already upon the 
 other side of the fence, boxed his ears a couple of times 
 and led him in bawling. 
 
 Thompson turned sadly away and began to walk to- 
 wards his hotel. A tramp ! And this was a woman he 
 had once called by the endearing name of wife ! Better 
 to have stayed upon his desert island and to have died 
 there miserable and forlorn, than to have come home to 
 such agony and insult as this. 
 
 He determined never to seek his home again unless 
 he should resolve to reveal himself to his wife. But the 
 yearning that he felt was too strong. He could not resist 
 it. When the shadows of evening fell he sought the 
 house again. There were brilliant lights in the windows 
 as he softly crept through the gateway and trod with 
 noiseless footfall upon the gravelled walk. He stepped 
 upon the porch, and hiding behind a shutter he peered 
 through the casement. 
 
 How beautiful that sweet domestic scene! but how 
 horrible for him ! His own dear sitting-room, and yet not 
 his! 
 
 There she was ! Emma, Sapphira, Ethelberta, Hen- 
 rietta, Columbia all of her. A few of her sat about the 
 centre table knitting. A few of her, were ranged around 
 the wall. Lucille (his own Ballygag) was there making 
 over one of Thompson's shirts for Jones ! Everything 
 seemed to conspire to cut him up. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 51 
 
 There was Arbutus Jones, his old rival, sitting in an 
 arm-chair with smiling face, dandling three infants upon 
 each knee. He was playing with them and with forty-two 
 other children ; and in a corner were seven cradles full of 
 babes, among them two twins and a triplet, which were 
 rocked by a hydraulic engine operated by pellucid water 
 from the sparkling mountain stream. Every now and 
 then one of Mrs. Jones would look up from her work and 
 smile at her husband and at the pranks of the little ones. 
 They were all so peaceful, so happy, so thoughtless of 
 the haggard man who shivered and shuddered out there 
 in the dusky night as with wild eyes he devoured the scene. 
 
 Thompson looked eagerly at the children. In the 
 faces of some he traced his own lineaments, his own 
 noble Roman nose ; in others he saw distinctly the facial 
 outlines of Jones : he saw the nose which turned upward 
 as if perpetually it would sniff the celestial constellations. 
 
 There was a great pain in his heart. He did not know 
 what to do. He was dazed, bewildered. His first impulse 
 was to express his emotion by bursting in the window 
 with a brick. But he repented him of the thought. His 
 wife was happy. It would be most horrible for him to 
 break in upon the even current of her lives and to bring 
 misery to that joyous household. Hecould not bear to do 
 it. What right had he to make Jones's children mother- 
 less, and their father a houseless wanderer ? He would 
 not do so fearful an act. He would go quietly away and 
 lay him down and die. Death would be welcome to him 
 now. He had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, no 
 joy or happiness any more in this cold and cruel world. 
 
 He returned again to his lodging. That night a 
 
5 2 THOMPSON D UNBAR, 
 
 raging fever attacked him. For days he was wild with 
 delirium, but at last the fever left him, and he became 
 conscious. His life was fast ebbing away. The physician 
 told him that the end was near. He must finish at once 
 his connection with the affairs of this world. 
 
 He called for his landlord. 
 
 ** When I am dead," he said, " I want you to have my 
 remains prepared for the tomb, and then I wish you to 
 send for Mrs. Arbutus Jones to come here to look upon 
 my face.'' 
 
 " Which of her ? " asked the landlord, sadly. 
 
 " All of her. She loved me once. She will wish to 
 see me." 
 
 " Who are you ?" 
 
 "Thompson Dunbar!*' 
 
 And then his tired spirit winged its way into the illimit- 
 able ether. He was no more. Perhaps he was even less. 
 
 The last message of the unhappy Thompson was con- 
 veyed to Mrs. Jones ; and she came, in melancholy array, 
 to view all that remained of him who had won the love of 
 her youth. It was a sad, sad scene at that reunion. 
 Thirty-two fond women in tears, and the late Mrs. Bally- 
 gag haunted by an awful fear that she had slain him by 
 denouncing him as a tramp, snatching his boy from his 
 arms, and driving him from his home. 
 
 Even Jones was affected. Overcome by the spectacle 
 of his wife's grief, he wandered off disconsolate to the 
 barroom, and tried to find solace in a variety of mixed 
 beverages. 
 
 Of course Coroner Partridge came ; his duty was to 
 View the body. When the shocking story was told him, 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 53 
 
 lie laughed. Partridge, a man holding a high and res- 
 ponsible and most solemn public position actually laughed 
 boisterously. Persons thought that his familiarity with 
 woe had robbed him of sensibility ; but that was not it. 
 Partridge had suddenly thought of a terrible scheme of 
 revenge. 
 
 The funeral was held upon the following Tuesday. 
 Mrs. Jones attended in full force, and each of her carried 
 with her a modest tombstone, bearing a tribute to the 
 memory of Thompson Dunbar. They buried him upon 
 the hillside with impressive ceremonies, and then Mrs. 
 Jones planted the thirty-three tombstones upon the grave 
 and watered them v/ith her tears. 
 
 Mrs. Jones returned to her home sorrowful, but trying 
 to regard the matter with a spirit of resignation. Thence- 
 forth she would be happy with her children. 
 
 Happy ! The next morning Mr. Partridge called. 
 Mr. Jones and the whole of his wife were at home. After 
 some preliminary and original remarks about the weather, 
 Partridge said 
 
 ** By the way, Jones, you know my brother Joe ?" 
 
 " The druggist, you mean .?" 
 
 " Yes, the druggist. I called, ladies, to ascertain what 
 you think of him." 
 
 " We don't know him,'' the ladies said. 
 
 " And we don't want to know him," Jones added. 
 
 *' Ah, that is indeed unfortunate. I hoped the ladies 
 knew him and admired him," said Partridge. 
 
 " Nobody," rephed Jones, sarcastically, " admires a man 
 who looks like a clothes-pin stuck in an apple- That isn't 
 our favourite style of man." 
 
54 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " How sad !'' exclaimed Partridge, calmly. " It would 
 be so much better for all parties if there was some basis 
 upon which to build a genuine affection." 
 
 *' Affection ! What in thunder do you mean T de- 
 manded Jones, warmly, and rising from his chair. 
 
 ** Why/* said Partridge, " where parties have to live to- 
 gether, love is necessary to happiness/' 
 
 " Partridge ! " exclaimed Jones, " I don't want to 
 knock out your brains ; you have so little to spare. But 
 I shall be obliged to do so if you keep on. I'll brain 
 you right before Mrs. Jones " 
 
 ** Mrs. Jones ! " said Partridge. " What Mrs. Jones ? 
 I don't see any Mrs. Jones about here." 
 
 " No more of this nonsense," said Jones, fiercely. 
 ** Quit now, or I'll throw you out of the window." 
 
 ** When I quit, these ladies go with me,*' said Part- 
 ridge, waving his hand toward the group. 
 
 " Mr. Partridge, please explain your self," appealed 
 Sapphira 
 
 ** Certainly, madam.*' 
 
 ** He'd better, or I'll murder him," said Jones. 
 
 ** I suppose, ladies, you consider yourself the wife of 
 this person, Jones .?" 
 
 " Certainly," was the unanimous answer. 
 
 **0f course,** shouted Jones. 
 
 ** Well, you ain't," said Partridge. 
 
 " Why not ?" they asked. 
 
 ** You were married to him while Dunbar was alive. 
 The marriage, therefore, was illegal. It was null and 
 void. Consequently, you are now simply Mrs. Dunbar* 
 the widow of the late Thompson Dunbar." 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 55 
 
 *< Is that all," said Jones, laughing; "we'll soon 
 remedy that. We will perform the ceremony again this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Oh, no you won't, Mr. Jones," sneered Partridge, 
 ** I don't think you will." 
 
 " Why not ? I'd like to know who will prevent me ? " 
 
 ** I will." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Last night, the Prophet Young had a revelation. 
 He was commanded to seal the whole of the widow 
 Dunbar to another man. That man was my brother Joe ! " 
 
 Arbutus Jones uttered a wild exclamation, which can- 
 not be reproduced here without injury to good manners 
 and to the morals of the reader. The thirty-three widows 
 fell fainting upon the floor. Partridge sent a servant to 
 call up his carriages. They came. Jones showed some 
 signs of a resistance, but Partridge said : 
 
 *'Come, now, old fellow, you know it's of no use. 
 This is exactly the way you played it on me, and I took 
 my punishment like a man. You might as well do the 
 same. Joe '11 make her a better husband than you, any- 
 way." 
 
 Jones perceived the folly of fighting against the 
 Prophet and fate. He kissed his darlings fondly, as they 
 began to resuscitate, and then flying out into the garden, 
 he sought a deep recess among the trees, and cursed Joe 
 and all the Partridges, and the Prophet, and the Church, 
 and Mormondom generally, from Joe Smith down to 
 Brigham, and back again. Then he left his home for 
 ever, envious of the rest that had come to his rival, 
 Dunbar, in the depths of the sepulchre. 
 
5 6 Til O Mrs ON D UNBAR, 
 
 Partridge took the widow down to his brother Joe's, 
 and Joe and he tried to persuade her to accept her fate. 
 She did so, at last, sullenly and reluctantly ; but, never- 
 theless, with recognition of the fact that it was a religious 
 duty. She was married to Joseph Partridge, and to his 
 home she came after the ceremony. He tried to make 
 her happy by giving her free run of the gum drops, and 
 liquorice, and jujube paste, and fancy soap, and tooth 
 brushes in the store. But none of these things comforted 
 her, and life became more intolerable for her every day. 
 
 Jones did call one day, when her husband was away 
 on business at Ogden, and proposed to her to elope with 
 him, and join the Gentiles. But none of her were willing 
 to commit such an awful sin, excepting the high-spirited 
 and irrepressible Ballygag ; and Jones, after considering 
 the matter, concluded that the enterprise, in her company, 
 had not those fascinating characteristics which had 
 seemed to him to distinguish it when the idea first oc- 
 curred to him. He bade the whole of Mrs. Partridge 
 farewell, for ever, and, going out into the wilderness, he 
 foreswore civilization. He joined the Kickapoo Indians, 
 and began practising war-whoops. 
 
 As for Mrs. Partridge, she dwindled and died, one by 
 one, and her husband bought an acre in the cemetery, in 
 which he placed her; and when the last was gone, he 
 went back to his desolate home, to roll pills in agony, 
 and to moisten his salts and senna with his tears I