SECRETS OF SAINTLY SPOUSES:—A VISIT FROM MY TALKATIVE FRIEND.  
Not long after I had received my Endowments, my talkative friend, of whom I have already spoken, came to see me and to offer her congratulations. She was quite enthusiastic upon the subject, spoke of the honour which had been conferred upon us, and promised to call frequently “to build me up.” She was particularly anxious to learn whether I did not feel much better and happier now.
On that point I could say little, for to have answered her truthfully would have provoked discussion, into which I did not care to enter. I knew, too, that anything I said to her would soon be known to every one else. So I told her that I was feeling well enough.
“‘Well enough!’” she said. “Is that how you feel? Come now, I thought you would have got over all that when you had been through your Endowments. You remind me of what Brother Brigham says,—We have so many whining women in Zion that it is quite a reproach. I do hope that you are not going to become one of them. Let me give you a bit of advice: The wisest thing that you can do is to look out for another wife for your husband, and get him to marry her.”
“Oh my!” I said; “what are you talking about? You surely cannot be in earnest.”
“I never was more earnest in my life,” she answered. “If you had persuaded your husband to take another wife when you went through your Endowments, you would have got over all your troubles at one time. The anticipation is ten times worse than the reality.”
“I do not see it in that light,” I said. “My own opinion is that my troubles in that case would only then have begun. I do not think that you yourself are really happy.”
“Oh, nonsense!” she exclaimed. “Why you can see[203] how happy I am. My husband has two other wives, besides myself, and a more comfortable family could not be.”
“You never told me,” I said, “how your husband managed to get those wives. I should like to hear.”
“My husband managed! Why he did not manage at all; it was I who arranged everything for him, and I’ll tell you how it was done.
“During the Reformation,” she continued, “you, of course, know the men were constantly urged to take more wives; but my husband was rather backward, and used to tell me there was plenty of time, and not the slightest occasion for him to be in a hurry. I had my own opinion of the matter and did not agree with him, for you see I was afraid that after all, he would pick up some young girl or other and fall in love with her, and all my plans would be disarranged. It is, you know much the best for the first wife to look out for some girl who will look up to her and respect her, but not love her husband too much, and then they are likely to get on well together. If the first wife selects the other wives, it has the effect of showing them that the husband thinks much of her judgment and is willing to abide by it, and that they will have to do the same. This, of course, is as it should be. But if she lets her husband choose his own wife, he is almost certain to take a fancy to some one whom the first wife does not like at all, and consequently her authority is undermined. The first wife ought to keep all the power in her own hands.”
“Well,” I said, “I should not care much, I think, who ruled in my home if another wife was there.”
“You think so now,” she replied; “but when you get used to polygamy you will feel quite otherwise. People get used to it—the women as well as the men—and then they leave off fretting and become less selfish. But I was going to tell you how I managed my husband.
“I was very anxious, as I told you, to find another wife for him, and I took into consideration all the suitable girls I knew. There was some objection to almost every one. Some were too pretty and I knew I should detest them; and others were not good-looking, and those my husband could not bear. So I waited patiently, but did not give up the hope of succeeding eventually. At last I met with a girl who I thought would do. She was certainly not bad-looking, but she was very young, and I thought I should be able to manage her. The name of this girl was Alice Maynard; she was a neighbour of ours, and one of a large family. She seemed to me[204] to be a quiet modest little creature, and I knew that she had to work hard and received very little in return. In fact, she led at home a life of drudgery, and even her very clothing bore witness to the poverty of the family. Her mother had often told me that she felt badly for Alice, for Mr. Maynard had three other wives, and it was more than he could do to support them all properly.
“I called one day on Mrs. Maynard to broach the matter to her. She received me very kindly, and entered into my views at once. She was anxious, she said, for Alice to get married, for then she would be better off. I asked her how she would like her to marry my husband, and told her that we were very comfortably off—as you know we are—and that my husband owned his house and lot, and was doing a very good business, and, of course, ought to take another wife. Would she agree to my proposal, and let me mention Alice to him?
“She said she herself had no objection, but that perhaps my husband might not like Alice, or Alice might not like him.
“I felt indignant at the idea that any girl should hesitate to marry my husband, and I told Sister Maynard that there could not possibly be any hesitation on Alice’s part. ‘I’m sure I have no objection,’ she said, ‘if Alice has none. I should only be too happy to see my child in a more comfortable home.’
“Well, then, we’ll consider the matter settled, I said, and asked if I could see Alice; so her mother called her in, and I proposed to her for my husband. You can guess, perhaps, how astonished I was when she actually laughed in my face, and said she should like to consider the matter! I did not, however, show her what I thought, but assented to what she said, and invited her to come and take tea with us.
“My husband had often told me, when I was teasing him about taking another wife, that he would willingly marry any girl I might choose for him; and I felt pleased at this, for it showed confidence in my judgment. So when he came in, later in the day, I told him I had found a wife for him at last, and that I knew he would like her. ‘Why, Ann,’ he said, ‘I do believe you are going crazy over the wife question; but if you are, I do not want you to drive me crazy also.’ I really thought this was too bad, after all my trouble for him; but nevertheless I was resolved that the marriage should take place.
[205]
“Three days after that, in accordance with my invitation, Alice came to take tea with us, and I fixed her up to look nice. When she was ready, I took her into the parlour to introduce her to my husband, who was sitting there reading. Henry, I said, this is Miss Maynard—the young lady of whom I spoke to you the other day. He looked up from his paper, and, to my astonishment, said, ‘Why, Alice, my girl, how do you do? How are mother and father?’
“‘What, I said, do you know Alice, Henry?’”
“‘Certainly I do,” he answered; ‘Alice and I have met many times before this, haven’t we, Alice?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ she said, and, oh, so demurely. Why, Sister Stenhouse, I began to think that I had actually been deceived, and that while I had innocently supposed that I had found out the girl myself, it was the very one upon whom my husband had had his eye for a long while past. I watched them, however, very narrowly, for I was determined that if my husband had really t............