I once stopped over in Utah and visited the great Mormon Temple, and I must say that the Mormon women are far below the average in intelligence, that is, if personal appearances count. I understand they are recruited from the lowest and most ignorant classes in Europe, where there are thousands of women who would rather have a fifth of a husband than work in the field. In the language of American slang, I imagine the Americans are "up against it," as the country avowedly offers an asylum for all seeking religious liberty, and the Mormons claim polygamy as a divine revelation and a part of their doctrine.

The bishop, I believe, was not a bishop, but a proselyting elder, or something of the kind. The man who introduced me to him was a type peculiar to America, a so-called "good fellow." People called him by his first name, and he returned the favor. The second time I met him he called me Count, and upon my replying that I was not a count he said, "Well, you look it, anyway," and he has always called me Count. He knows every one, and every one knows hima good-hearted man, a spendthrift, yet a power in politics; a remarkable poker player, a friend worth knowing, the kind of man you like to meet, and there are many such in this country. FOOTNOTE: Probably Senator Bruce. CHAPTER X

THE AMERICAN IN LITERATURE I have been a guest at the annual dinner of the , one of the leading literary associations in America, and later at a "reception" at the house of , where I met some of the most charming men and delightful women, possessed of manners that marked the person of culture and the savoir faire that I have seen so little of among other "sets" of wellknown public people. But what think you of an author of note who knew absolutely nothing of the literature of our country? There were Italians, French, and Swedes at the dinner, who were called upon to respond to toasts on the literature of their country; but was I called upon? No, indeed. I doubt if in all that entourage there was more than one or two who were familiar with the splendid literature of China and its antiquity.

But to come to the "shock." My immediate companion was a lady with just a soupon of the masculine, who, I was told, was a distinguished novelist, which means that her book had sold to the limit of 30,000 copies. After a toast and speech in which the literature of Norway and Sweden had been extolled, this charming lady turned to me and said, "It is too bad, , that you have no literature in China; you miss so much that is enjoyed by other nations." This was too much, and I broke one of the American rules of chivalryI became disputatious with a lady and slightly cynical; and when I wish to be cynical I always quote Mr. Harte, which usually "brings down the house." To hear a Chinese heathen quote the "Heathen Chinee" is supposed to be very funny.