a hill then called Cumora, now in Ontario
county, where it was preserved in safety until
it was brought to light by no less than the
ministry of angels, and translated by inspiration.
And the great Jehovah bore record of
the same to chosen witnesses, who declare it
to the world."

This book is extant (in its printed English
form, of course) in the British Museum, and
resembles the Scriptures about as much as a
paraphrase of the Pentateuch by Moses and
Son's poet! It appears from all the evidence,
in fact, that this book of Mormon was founded
on a historical romance, written by an
American author some years before Prophet
Smith's time, which fell, while still in MS.,
into the hands of a friend of the prophet's,
and which was sublimated into an "inspired"
state by the prophet and a personal acquaintance.
It was followed by a book of doctrines
and covenants.

Not long after their publication, the success
of these works was so great, that Joseph's
faith in his own fabrications appears to have
become wonderfully strengthened; and he
began, poor fellow, to believe in himself, and
to take up prophecy as a trade. He had
occasional "revelations" to suit each new phase
in his career. He professed also to work
miracles, and to cast devils out of the bodies of
brother Tomkins and brother Gibbs, whenever
those worthy men were troubled with them.

The sect increased with great rapidity. It
gained converts everywhere in the States.
The disciples took the name of the "Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." They
held that these present days are the "latter"
ones, preparatory to the Millennium. A
material, eminently Jonathonian form of
Christianity organised itself gradually—
Joseph had apostles and disciples; once more
the world saw a man believed in by his fellow-
men, and reverenced as sacred.

It sounds strange to hear of a church
having a "location." But a "location" was
the term they applied to their place of settlement.
Their first one was in Jackson County,
Missouri. Here was to be the "New
Jerusalem." Picture to yourselves loaded wagons
travelling westward; canal boats swimming
low and deep down the rivers— the tall
brawny prophet with dark eyes:—the Church
is on its way! One likes to see a love of the
beautiful in Joe. Joe looks round the
landscape, and sees "the great rolling prairies
like a sea of meadows." Here was Zion at
last, and Joseph had a "revelation" on the
subject. His revelations are the oddest
compositions— scriptural phrase and sturdy business-
details blended. "Verily I say unto you,
let my servant Sidney Gilbert plant himself
in this place and establish a store!" This is
an odd weaving together of velvet and fustian:
like using Raphael's " Madonna " for a public-
house sign.

Prophets, we all know, are persecuted in
all ages. Joe was no exception. But unhappily
Joseph was ludicrously persecuted.
He was a martyr; but a martyr to practical
jokes. The brawny man was dragged from
his bed one night by a horde of Methodists,
Baptists, Campbellites, and other burning
zealots. Wild cries are heard through the
night air; the prophet is hauled along,
furious orthodoxy buffeting him right and
left—Where is the tar-bucket?

The fatal bucket— black and calm as a
pool of Erebus— is brought. Joe is ferociously
annointed with pitch; the thick dark fluid
sticks all over him, and causes the plumage
mercilessly coated over his sacred person to
adhere as tightly as if he had been really
blessed with wings. A saint tarred and
feathered is, indeed, a new chapter in the Book
of Martyrs. The faith that could survive so
tremendous a bathos was impregnable, and
showed the unbounded power of the prophet
over his followers. It took the whole night
for the " inspired " friends of the prophet to
cleanse his revered and canonised skin! Yet,
scared and bleared as he was— raw as some
goose plucked alive— Joe preached the next
day to his own egregious multitude.

The agitation in Jackson County, Missouri,
by degrees grew furious: there were Mormon
newspapers and anti-Mormon newspapers;
and when the pen and the leading article had
done their worst, the sword, (the States' name
for which is " bowie-knife,") the bludgeon and
the revolver were brought into play. Judge
Lynch— who never is to be bothered with
juries, and decides in a second on his own
responsibility— was continually invoked; and
there were perpetual scenes of bloodshed.
In the end, the war waxed too hot even for
the dauntless Joseph. When he found that
active valour was of no avail against his
enemies, he betook himself to the courage
of discretion; the passive and better part
of valour. He went away. In May, 1834, the
entire community packed up its "notions"
and effected a successful exode.

We find that after their expulsion from
Missouri, they migrated to Illinois, and mustered
fifteen thousand souls. Here they established
a city, which they called '" Nauvoo," or the
"Beautiful," and by the consent of everybody,
worked right well. Joe was mayor,
president, prophet; spiritual and temporal
head of the settlement. They now began
to send out missionaries, and to build a
temple of polished white limestone. It was
one hundred and thirty-eight feet in length,
and eighty-eight in breadth, surmounted by
a pyramidal tower; and was so elevated on a
rising ground that it stood in the sight of the
whole population. The Mormons spent a
million of dollars on this edifice.

We now view Joe at the summit of his
career. Joe has military rank, and reviews
his troops as Lieuteuant-General. Drums
beat, and flags are waved. He rides abroad
a King. His work is now nearly done. The
city grows around him daily; houses with