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GERTRUDE MAJOR. 
 
The Revelation in the 
 Mountain 
 
 OCT :-! 1917 
 
 
 GERTRUDE KEENE MAJOR 
 
 With an introduction by 
 
 JUDGE C. C. GOODWIN 
 
 COCHRANE PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 1909 
 
These stories are reprinted by the courtesy of the "Salt Lake Tribi 
 and "The Pacific Monthly Magazine." 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 I — The Revelation in the Mountain 7 
 
 // — The Day of His Judgment 1/ 
 
 III — The Thread of Scarlet 28 
 
 IV — The Garment of Salvation j8 
 
 V — The Isles That Wait 48 
 
 VI— A first Wife 57 
 
 VII — The House of Bondage 72 
 
 VIII— When Celia Rang the Bell 81 
 
 IX — The Sins of the Father 8p 
 
 X — The Hornet's Nest P7 
 
 XI — What Christ Woidd Find 104 
 
 XII — Rise of the Mormons 115 
 
 XIII — The Oath of Vengeance 120 
 
TO THE AMERICAN PARTY, 
 
 which is striving to bring the majesty of the Country's law to 
 despotic Utah, this volume is respectfully dedicated by 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
FOREWORD BY JUDGE GOODWIN. 
 
 When the Mormons first came to Utah they were 
 embittered against the government of the United 
 States, and it seemed to be the purpose of the few men 
 who controlled the organization to keep alive and in- 
 tensify that bitterness. Then polygamy, which had 
 been long practised in Nauvoo, was openly promulgated 
 by Brigham Young as a divine ordinance — the only rite 
 which secured perfect exaltation to the spirits of mor- 
 tals, after the death of the body here. To carry this 
 out cruelties unspeakable were perpetrated. Then, too, 
 all who did not indorse the system were held as ene- 
 mies, and the rank and file were taught that such peo- 
 ple were enemies of their church and were seeking to 
 oppress the elect because of their religious beliefs. 
 Under such a leader as Brigham Young, in the deso- 
 lation of this then wilderness, atrocities unspeakable 
 were committed. Moreover, Brigham Young kept a 
 band of blood-atoners always in call and enemies were 
 put out of the way. There is enough in the sermons 
 preached in those days, in the acts performed, which 
 are still in the memories of old residents, and in the 
 skeletons found in excavating cellars in Salt Lake City 
 to corroborate all that is said here and to show that 
 the contents of this book make clear the spirit which 
 ruled Utah for thirty years after 1847. 
 
 The justification for publishing it now is that when 
 the barbarism which ruled here was sufficiently beaten 
 back to make it clear that the chiefs of this people saw 
 disfranchisement immediately before them, they 
 pledged the government and the Gentiles of Utah that 
 
henceforth the political rule which they had always 
 held over their people should cease, and that polygamy 
 should be abolished. Upon that they obtained state- 
 hood. 
 
 That brought peace and such contentment and hap- 
 piness as had never been known here before. But it 
 lasted only for a brief season. All the old wrongs 
 were resumed within two years. Many of the highest 
 officers of the church took new polygamous wives and 
 the rule over the political beliefs of the Mormon peo- 
 ple was reestablished in all its old tyranny. Never was 
 this more fully exemplified than in the election here in 
 the present month. Through that rule the senators 
 who represent Utah in Washington were elected, 
 through that rule the senior senator, an apostle in the 
 dominant church, names every state officer in Utah. 
 
 That the President of the United States looks on this 
 with approval and uses the influence of his great office 
 to continue the tyranny and the shame, does not matter. 
 He cannot create a code which will justify turning back 
 civilization for a thousand years, and establishing in 
 this land a despotism Asiatic in all its attributes. An 
 apostle of the church stated in a recent conference, 
 where were gathered thousands of trusting Mormons, 
 that not one principle, not one tenet of the original faith 
 had ever been relinquished. That the men and women 
 of the United States may realize what the system nat- 
 urally leads to when unrestrained, the publication of 
 this book is justified. 
 
 C. C. Goodwin. 
 
 November 17, 1908. 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The Gentile lady sat on the Mormon lady's cool, 
 vine-screened porch, and rocked gently back and forth 
 over the creaking, warped old floor. She was embroid- 
 ering a centerpiece in a lily-of-the-valley design, and 
 listening, interestedly, to the gentle talk of her hostess. 
 
 Their friendship had been formed shortly after the 
 Gentile had moved to Salt Lake City, in the "breaking 
 up" of the spring. She had been taken very ill, and 
 her doctor had recomm.ended Anne Smedgely as a 
 master hand at nursing. 
 
 A master hand she had proved to be, who devoted 
 all her time and energies to her patient as long as she 
 had need of her services, and had then gone quietly 
 back to her little adobe house, with its three drab- 
 colored front doors opening from its three drab-colored 
 front rooms on to the long, sagging front porch, with 
 its redeeming drapery of green vines. 
 
 The Gentiles had been very grateful to their neigh- 
 bors. To Elder Reber, who, when he had heard of her 
 illness, had sent his entire assortment of wives to her 
 assistance, and to Bishop Horner, who had called to 
 leave a book on the Faith and a basket of fruit, and 
 most of all to gentle old Anne. 
 
 7 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The neighborhood into which the Gentiles had 
 moved was in the older portion of the city, and their 
 neighbors were all devotees of the Temple. They had 
 learned later that the Gentiles, who of recent years had 
 flocked in such numbers to the ''garden," had built 
 their homes to the north and east of the city. 
 
 *'But," the Gentile lady had said to her husband, in 
 discussing their location, "no people could have been 
 more kind, and just as soon as I am well enough I 
 shall go to see them, just as I should if they were 
 Methodists." 
 
 Her husband's eyes twinkled. ''\\\\\ you call on 
 them separately or ensemble?" he asked. 
 
 'T don't know just how I shall manage the Rebers," 
 his wife said, laughing; "but there is only one of Mrs. 
 Smedgely, you know." 
 
 "I wonder why? Her husband is one of the old 
 school of saints ; an elder, or something," her husband 
 said, adding: "Why don't you ask her?" 
 
 "Some day I may," the Gentile lady answered seri- 
 ously. "I love to hear her talk. When I was suffering 
 her talk soothed me like an opiate." 
 
 To-day, when she sat and embroidered, and old 
 Anne rocked and knit, she ventured the question tact- 
 fully: "Does a woman feel right — er — happy after — 
 if her husband marries another wife?" 
 
 Anne laughed ; her laugh, like her talking-voice, had 
 a peculiarly pleasant sound. 
 
 "Polygamy was one of the most sacred teachings of 
 our faith," she said. "But the way women feel about 
 it, that depends on the individual." 
 
 "But," and the gentle Gentile blushed a deep, shamed 
 red, "is it, can it be true that — that — it was the custom 
 
 8 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 for — for the last wife to bathe the next wife's feet, as 
 a sign of submission to the law of the church ?" 
 
 'True enough," assented Anne cheerfully. 
 
 "But can any woman, no matter what her faith, do 
 such an unnatural thing willingly ?" 
 
 Anne laughed at her earnestness. "That depends on 
 the individual, too," she said. "I mind when Sister 
 S'lomy's husband brought his second wife home. They 
 live over there 'cross the street ; no, not in that house, 
 that's Pages ; in the one next, that old one, the one with 
 the three doors (the door this way is S'lomy's apart- 
 ment). Well, as I said, S'lomy an' him had lived so 
 long alone together, that S'lomy had got sorter uppity, 
 and made some brags; so, when Brother Sam came 
 back from Moab, fetchin' a new wife, we wondered 
 how Sister S'lomy'd take it. She came over for a 
 wettin' of tea the very next mornin', an' I couldn't for- 
 bear askin' her teasin' like, 'Well, Sister S'lomy, have 
 you washed the new sister's feet?' 
 
 ''S'lomy always bites off her words short when she 
 is riled. 'Yes,' she snaps, 'I washed her feet, but T 
 slapped her face, too.' " 
 
 The Gentile looked up from her embroidery with un- 
 certain questioning into Anne's humorous old face, then 
 she threw back her head and laughed until the tears 
 rolled down her cheeks. Anne joined somewhat hesi- 
 tatingly in her mirth. 
 
 "Some don't feel so," she said deprecatingly. 
 "S'lomy is dreadful spirited." 
 
 "She must be," agreed the lady. She hesitated, and 
 blushed again. "But you " 
 
 "Oh, me," Anne said; then was silent. Dropping 
 her knitting in her lap, she folded her hard, work-cal- 
 
 9 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 loused hands one over the other in her lap, and sat 
 looking with dreamy intentness at the mountains, which 
 rose above them like a serried, broken wall around the 
 city. The Gentile's eyes followed hers up the rugged 
 sides, and rested on a deep, shadowy canon, running 
 like a scar down the side of the mountain. 
 
 **There, up that hollow — clear on — farther yet than 
 that big boulder, clear past that point where you see 
 them red shadows — there is where I had my revela- 
 tion," said old Anne, "an' it's because of that," with a 
 look at once sad and triumphant, "that I have been 
 Jonas' only wife." She picked up her knitting and knit 
 off two or three needles before she spoke again. "I was 
 born here in Salt Lake. My mother pushed a hand- 
 cart across the plains in '56 to get here. It is the same 
 garden that Adam and Eve was put out of, you know." 
 Her visitor nodded, and Anne went on : "My father 
 was a bishop in the church ; he had seven wives and 
 forty children. We were very poor ; it looked some in 
 the early years that we was all to starve. We children 
 all started to work, almost as soon as we could walk, 
 for our keep. One of my brothers went with a man to 
 Pueblo. He came back when I was about fourteen, 
 and came to see me at the place I was workin' at. He 
 was the first to tell me about other people and ways 
 than our own. I went to walk with him down by the 
 Jordan River, and when we was standin' on the bridge, 
 lookin' up toward the mountains, he told me about 
 Pueblo, how it was there. There was only one woman 
 for every man, he said (here in Salt Lake there were 
 seven), and not many children, and, he said, lookin' 
 down at my chapped, bare feet (I hadn't no shoes — yes. 
 though it was late fall and there was black frost on 
 
 10 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the bridge), not any of them went barefoot, but all 
 had shoes, an' scarce any of them went workin', even 
 them that was bigger than him an' me. I felt a kind 
 of choking feelin', kind of like my heart was swelling 
 up, or something. I was still looking at the mountain, 
 because all the time Artie was talkin' I kept seein' the 
 strangest thing. 
 
 ''Seemed as if there was a procession of people walk- 
 in' on an' on up the canon ; a man an' a woman, a man 
 an' a woman. There didn't seem to be no beginning, 
 or no end, but always those two, side by side, a man an' 
 a woman. 
 
 "When I spoke my voice sounded queer, for it felt 
 like my heart was moving up, almost in my throat, 
 choking me. 
 
 " 'Artie,' I says, 'that is the way I am goin' to do, 
 when I get married ; I'm goin' to be the only one ; I 
 won't have no sisters, an' all my children are goin' to 
 have shoes.' 
 
 " 'Some folks do,' Artie said. 
 
 "I had to haste back to work, but as I was goin' I 
 looked back to the hills once, an' I could still see them, 
 them men an' women. 'I'll be like that,' I says 
 aloud ; it was a sort of prayer an' a promise. 
 
 "The next year I married Jonas, and the next (when 
 I was sixteen) I had twin babies. I thanked God for 
 two things ; that they was boys, an' that there was two 
 of them. I don't want to say anything against God 
 (He has interceded for me, weak, sinful woman that 
 I am), but when I was sufferin' my first agony, I says 
 to Jonas, says I, 'Any one would know God was a 
 man, or He wouldn't a made it so fearful hard on 
 women.' Jonas is a terrible religious man, an' he 
 
 II 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 turned white when I said that. 'Don't, Anne,' he fairly 
 begged ; 'don't talk so, an' I'll do anything in the world 
 for you.' 
 
 " Then,' says I, seeing my advantage, 'promise that 
 you'll never take another wife, not while I live. The 
 children I'm willin' to bear — for you an' the glory of 
 Zion, but I'll let no other woman bear them for you.' 
 I guess I was gettin' some fevered, for I see Sister 
 Sary, who was waitin' on me, motion to him, an' he 
 says, quick like, *No, Anne, there never will' 
 
 '*I rested on his word, an' every time my children 
 came I prayed there would be two of them, at once. 
 When we had been married six years we had five chil- 
 dren, two pair of twin boys an' my little Maidie. 
 Maidie was about six months old when Sister Julia 
 come over one mornin' an' says, seemed kind of spite- 
 ful like, 'Brother Jonas has a new wife ; I seen them 
 down street. You'll have to get at an' freshen up the 
 east rooms for her. He'll fetch her home to-night.' 
 
 "I had my Maidie in my lap. I was knittin' a sock 
 for Jonas, an' she kept grabbin' at the needles, an' 
 cooin'. I could hear her coo right through Sister 
 Julia's words. It seemed as though she had been talk- 
 in' an' lookin' at me hours, an' that she had said 
 everything. 
 
 *'I picked the baby up in my arms (she seemed like 
 she was so heavy, all at once, that I could scarcely lift 
 her) an' made my way to the door. I called to Sister 
 S'lomy's Beda, who was standin' in their door ; I had 
 to call three or four times before she heard, my lips 
 was so hard an' stiff. 
 
 "Sister Julia looked at me, an' says : 'You must have 
 a sore throat, Anne.' 
 
 12 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "'Why?' I said. 
 
 " 'Because your voice sounds so queer,' she made 
 answer. 
 
 "I said no word to her, but spoke to Httle Beda, who 
 had just come in. 'Beda,' says I, 'I'll give you two 
 pieces of ginger cake if you stay an' mind Maidie for 
 me.' Sister S'lomy's was powerful poor them days, an' 
 the children wasn't used to sweetened dough, so she 
 promised joyful. I gave her ^laidie, an', not stoppin' 
 to say a single word to Sister Julia, or to put an}thing 
 on my head, I ran out, an' fast as I could run, I rushed 
 on out to the river , on up the canon where, when Artie 
 an' me had talked that day, I had sensed the vision 
 of them men an' women. I didn't know why I went, 
 but something made me. I ran, an' cried out wild 
 things as I went. The sharp rocks an' briers caught 
 at my hands an' dress, but I felt no hurt. I was wild, 
 but sure, sure that I would see something. I didn't 
 know what, but something that would take that awful 
 feelin' out of my heart. 
 
 *T went on, rushin' up an' up. It almost seemed as 
 if I was gettin' closer to God. When I got to the top, 
 clear up where the snow^ never melts, where I could 
 make Him hear, I would ask Him what He meant. I 
 wouldn't have felt no fear — not of the whole host of 
 heaven — not then. 
 
 "I never got to the top, though; I fell down just 
 when I got to the snaw-hne. I tried to get up, but I 
 couldn't. My heart seemed, all at once, to just 
 close up my breath. I couldn't so much as lift my 
 hand. 
 
 "I looked up, into the sparklin', dazzlin' brightness 
 of the mountain-top, an' I saw them again ! The same 
 
 13 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 procession — a man an' a woman, a man an' a woman! 
 They seemed, somehow, to be dressed in the Hght — I'd 
 admire to make it clear to you if I could — I could see 
 the sun, an' the blue shadows back of them, but I 
 sensed them plain. 
 
 *'An' — an' then I heard a voice, deep an' soothin' ; it 
 was sayin' part of the last Sunday's readin', 'Lo, I 
 am with ye alway, even unto the end.' I began to 
 breathe, soft an' easy, just as my Maidie did when she 
 dropped, smilin', to sleep ; an' it seemed that a wind, 
 soft an' sweet as her breath, came gently down the 
 canon, an' that voice, sweet as the cooin' of doves, 
 spoke in it, so low I could scarce hear it, but I knew 
 who it was, an' got my comfort. I went to sleep. 
 
 "When I woke it was dark ; no moon or stars, but 
 pitchy black. I couldn't find my way, so bided 'til 
 sunup. It wasn't long until I see her comin', like a 
 lovely lady, I thought, throwin' off the night covers. 
 I stayed to watch her dress (I was full of fancies, an' 
 happy). First she put on soft, pinky petticoats, but 
 they didn't suit her, so she threw them away — up in the 
 sky — an' kept puttin' on others, brighter an' brighter, 
 until she got a flamin' red, an' then she put on a dress 
 of gold, that made me glad, some way, as if she had 
 put it on for me. 
 
 ''Then I went home. 
 
 "When I got back to my house I crept up soft an' 
 looked in the east window. She was there. She was 
 just a young thing, nothing but a child. She was 
 asleep, but I could see that she had been crying ; there 
 was a pinched look about her mouth an' red spots, like 
 fever marks, on her cheeks. I knew she didn't love 
 Jonas, an' a feelin' almost tender come over me for her. 
 
 14 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 I thought of my Maidie, an' I says, soft an' low, *My 
 poor girl !' 
 
 'Then I walked around an' opened the door. 
 
 "Jonas looked up, his face like snow. 'Anne,' says 
 he, chokin', 'Anne?' 
 
 " 'Yes, it's Anne,' I said, smilin'. 
 
 " 'Where ?' says he, 'where in God's name have you 
 been?' 
 
 " 'Up in the mountains, where all prophets go,' I 
 says. 'I've had a revelation.' 
 
 "Jonas looked at me, his face whiter than ever. 'You 
 look,' he said, 'as though you'd been to heaven.' 
 
 " 'I ain't,' I says, 'but I think I have almost seen its 
 door.' 
 
 "I sat down by him an' held his hand; it shook just 
 like old Bishop Farnley's, who had palsy. I told him 
 ail Fd seen an' heard. 'For them that don't sense sin,' 
 I said, 'maybe it ain't sin, but for us, Fve sensed it, 
 an' if we go higher, we must go just us alone. Fve 
 seen, an' the path is only Vvade enough for two.' " 
 
 The voice of old Anne trembled away into silence. 
 
 The Gentile lady looked at her forgotten embroidery 
 with eyes that saw the familiar pattern as from a long 
 distance. She tried to match the green of a leaf, which 
 blurred and widened grotesquely in the mist through 
 which she looked. She could not speak, and, for the 
 moment, dared not look at old Anne, but she felt, from 
 an inner sense, a reflection of the light on the old 
 woman's face, with her remembering eyes turned to the 
 silent m.ajesty of the abiding hills. 
 
 The story needed but a sentence to complete it. It 
 was added presently, after the knitting had been re- 
 sumed, with a patient sigh, as from one who has seen 
 
 15 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the heights and descended again to the valley of life. 
 "I said to Jonas, 'Jonas,' said I, 'that little girl in 
 there will be our daughter. You mind?' An' Jonas 
 said, speakin' slow an' solemn as if it was meetin', 
 'She won't ever be anything else.' " 
 
 i6 
 
II. 
 
 THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMENT. 
 
 The way of peace they know not; and there Is no judg- 
 ment in their goings ; they have made them crooked paths ; 
 whosoever goeth therein shall not know peace. — Isaiah lix. 8. 
 
 In a tumble-down, decaying house, which looks down 
 on the river Jordan, winding like a soiled gray ribbon 
 at the bottom of the hills, and up to where their white- 
 trimmed tops embroider the sky, lived Grandma West, 
 and Sister Millie, and Auntie May, and, for the present 
 (because she had nowhere else to go), Sylvia Smith. 
 
 Sylvia was a newcomer in Zion. She had come with 
 a party from Australia, converted to the faith by the 
 eloquence of a well-favored young missionary. She 
 had been imbibing the teachings and enjoying the com- 
 panionship of the chosen for less than a year, when on 
 this day, as on many a weary one preceding, she tossed 
 feverishly on grandma's best bed and prayed monot- 
 onously and hopelessly for death. 
 
 Somewhere, before the Book of Mormon and the 
 Doctrine and Covenants had become her entire literary 
 diet, and she had learned how sufficient for all mental 
 and spiritual needs were these inspired volumes, Sylvia 
 had read that with honor all was lost, and odd as it 
 seemed, her honor seemed to be regarded as lost, al- 
 though she had only poured the red of the stain of 
 shame over the white of her virgin soul in response to 
 
 17 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 a revelation from God Himself to one of His favored 
 followers, a man who had stood at the helm of the 
 saintly craft of Mormonism for so long that his hair 
 was snow-white in the service, at the time the Lord 
 had given him the vision of Sylvia Smith. He had 
 hastened to the factory where his influence had ob- 
 tained for her a position at six dollars a week (less, 
 of course, the tithing, which the faithful collected from 
 her employers, to save her the trouble of counting it 
 out). A great system, the tithing, and one which has 
 ever the fascination of mystery as to what becomes of 
 it. 
 
 Sylvia was excused from her w^ork to speak to the 
 bishop. She had listened with a fast beating heart to 
 the fact that God had mirrored her face on the spiritual 
 lens which He showed His servant, and that the revela- 
 tion meant great glory for her in the day, now fast ap- 
 proaching, when the king was to appear to reward the 
 righteous. 
 
 Now, sacrifice is a strange thing. As long as it is in 
 the abstract, how we glory in it ; but when it comes 
 down to the concrete me, here, now, it is terrible ; most 
 of us all would relinquish the almost certain light of a 
 hard won heaven for the dark of a lost earth when 
 we hear the roar of the lions and the rending of sac- 
 rificial limbs. 
 
 Poor Sylvia clung desperately to earth, no vision of 
 a near enthronement in heaven could soothe her shame 
 and self-loathing. She wished wickedly that she had 
 never seen the bishop, never left Australia, let the one 
 means of salvation pass, and stayed far away from 
 
 i8 
 
THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMENT. 
 
 Zion. Especially and more ardently did she wish these 
 wicked things after the bishop, being as it were a very 
 tool under the thumb of the spirit, got a call which 
 took him on some missionary work in England, and 
 she was thrown out of her position. 
 
 This is a strange world, and Sylvia soon found that 
 no one else seemed to know anything about the bishop's 
 revelation, and although she had only followed the ex- 
 pressed desire of the Almighty, not one door was open 
 to her. Even in Zion, which, you know, is the ante- 
 chamber of heaven itself, this is an awful position to 
 be in. Why, not one of the holiest men seemed able to 
 help her, times were very close with them all, and it 
 was not until she found refuge with Grandma, who, 
 if you will believe, was one of the bishop's first wives, 
 did the poor girl find so much as a place to lay her 
 head. 
 
 The whole affair might so easily have been hushed 
 up (so many are) had Sylvia had the common decency 
 to accuse some already lost Gentile, instead of insisting 
 that it was the good old bishop who was responsible 
 for her prospective halo of motherhood. 
 
 After much discussing of the knotty problem, it was 
 decided to send for the bishop, insisting on his imme- 
 diate return to Zion. 
 
 The bishop returned from the green vineyard of 
 England questioning and indignant. 
 
 The good book says that children are a heritage of 
 the Lord, and that man is blessed who has a quiver full. 
 Now, the bishop had so many in his quiver that he was 
 — must be — many times blessed on this account alone. 
 
 19 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 In fact, so ardently had he fulfilled this desire of his 
 Master — as expressed to his seer and revelator, Joseph 
 Smith — that he had long lost count of the number, 
 knowing that they were counted to his credit on the 
 great record. So, to be called back from his labors 
 for so trivial a matter as the one in hand, showed him 
 that things had come to a pretty pass in Zion. 
 
 Insomuch as the girl had found refuge with three of 
 his former wives, and that to see her he might have 
 to face them, especially Grandma, added insult to the 
 bishop's injury. 
 
 He had not seen Grandma for a score of years, and 
 between the two was a trifling matter, still unadjusted, 
 that whenever he was forced to think of it, caused a 
 warm feeling around his collar, most uncomfortable. 
 
 But Sylvia, with the lack of consideration for his 
 feelings which she had showed from the very first, had 
 given birth to a child a day before he reached Zion 
 from abroad, and so taking advantage of the way her 
 sex is favored, since the invasion of the godless Gen- 
 tiles, insisted that she could not go to the bishop and 
 that the bishop must come to her. And there was 
 nothing else for him to do. 
 
 Sister Millie and Auntie May both worked in the 
 factory, for a mean pittance of wage and the reward 
 of virtue. Grandma knit countless socks and mittens, 
 this being almost the only remunerative work her rheu- 
 matic old hands were capable of doing. 
 
 While Grandma knit she thought, and while she 
 thought she often cried. She did to-day, as she sat 
 where she could get the light from the window and 
 rock the little baby in the cradle. The cradle, a clumsy, 
 home-made affair of wood, was the same that had held 
 
 20 
 
THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMENT. 
 
 Grandma's brood of children, and Sister Millie's, and 
 Auntie May's, and now this strange, white-faced girl's. 
 The children were all the bishop's, and Grandma had 
 rocked them all, just as she was rocking this, knitting, 
 and sometimes crying, sometimes for the babies and 
 sometimes for the mothers. One can knit and cry so 
 easily. 
 
 Sylvia watched the tears rolling down the old wom- 
 an's wrinkled cheeks with a growing wonder ; it seemed 
 to her that she had all the trouble there was worth 
 crying about, and she wondered that a woman as old 
 as Grandma should care enough about anything to 
 cry about it, that she continued to do so, patiently and 
 helplessly, began to irritate the girl past endurance. 
 
 "You don't need to fret none about me," she said 
 ungraciously. *'I can stand what I have to without 
 sympathy." 
 
 Grandma smiled, and Vv'iped her cheek with the leg 
 of the sock she was knitting. **We can all do that, 
 honey," she said, stooping down and smoothing the 
 covers over the sleeping baby, "we can all bear our 
 own sorrow, but sometimes it seems we cain't anoth- 
 er's." 
 
 "I hope you wasn't crying for me," a note of appeal 
 thrilling through the bravado of her voice. 
 
 "No, not for you," Grandma said, "but for my hus- 
 band." 
 
 The girl raised herself on one thin, sharp elbow. 
 "For that lying old scoundrel ?" she cried. 
 
 That is just what she called the bishop, and it cannot 
 be pleaded in extenuation that she was delirious — she 
 
 21 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 knew what she said, and Grandma knew what she 
 meant, for she answered quietly: ''No, not for the 
 bishop, but for my own husband." 
 
 "Your what?" the girl asked, momentarily interested 
 in other affairs than her own. 
 
 *'My own husband," Grandma repeated musingly. 
 "The man I loved and who loved me. We were mar- 
 ried in Missouri, and came here to Salt Lake after 
 •we were converted to the faith." 
 
 "Did he die?" the girl asked, as Grandma paused and 
 counted in a half-whisper as she "turned" the heel of 
 the sock. 
 
 "I thought he did," she answered, "although they 
 tried to make me think he had deserted me, as though 
 I'd believe that ! But he didn't come home one night 
 to supper, and I could learn nothing for days. I was 
 almost wild when bishop came to see me and said 
 he had had a revelation from God that he was to take 
 me to wife." 
 
 ,"Why, that's just what the old skunk told me," the 
 girl cried excitedly. 
 
 Grandma laughed. Her laugh needed no comment. 
 
 "I was young, then, full young, and I thought if 
 Ralph was gone I didn't care what became of me ; so, 
 well, he fetched me here to live, with Sister Susie, his 
 first wife, who God, in His mercy, called soon after. 
 One day Elder Rooker's wife came in and she said that 
 Ralph was in town, rampagin' around, looking for me. 
 I jumped up, wild as a deer, yelling at her to know 
 where he was. My heart was almost breaking with 
 love for him, but she and Susie held me down, and she 
 said : * 'Taint no use to struggle against the church, 
 Lida. My man told me that they had kept him out of 
 
 22 
 
THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMEXT. 
 
 the way till bishop got you, and if you go to acting up, 
 why they will put him out of the way to stay put. 
 What bishop wants, he gets." '' 
 
 The old lady's hands were trembling so that her knit- 
 ting-needles kept up a little click as they hit against 
 each other. The girl, forgetting her weakness, raised 
 herself again on her elbow. 
 
 "The devils/' she screamed, "rd— I'd "' 
 
 "Xo, you wouldn't,'" Grandm.a interrupted her. The 
 baby cried, and she put her knitting down on the win- 
 dow-sill, and, stooping over, picked it up in her mother- 
 ing old anr.s, soothing it vrith little mouthing coos. 
 "You couldn't 'a' done more than I could," she went on. 
 "I got down on my knees and begged the bishop, 
 prayed him to let me go, but he said if I didn't submit 
 to the will of God that they would take Ralph and — 
 and cut oft his ears, and — oh, pitying God ! I can't tell 
 the horrible threats that he m.ade, until I — why. I had 
 to submit. I couldn't do amthing else. My only 
 ccmfort was that I was saving Ralph suffering, and 
 that some day, maybe near, maybe far, that God would 
 bring the light. 'Sly mother used to say that 'the Lord 
 wouldn't let that goat's tail grow too long, or it would 
 switch its o\\-n eves out.' But it has been lens:, verv 
 Ion?." 
 
 'Hvhat has ^" 
 
 ''The day of His judgment." she answered softly. 
 
 "Sometim.es I have thought that those awful mon- 
 sters that are described in Revelations, in the Bible, 
 describes some of the men who used to run things in 
 our church." 
 
 The baby began to cr\' again, and Grandm.a carried 
 it out in the ''lean-to,'' where a concoction, intended 
 
 23 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 for its delectation, was brewing on the back of the 
 stove. As she moved about the girl heard her singing 
 in a sweet old quaver : 
 
 "Oh, that we in the day of His coming may say, 
 I have fought my way through, I have finished 
 The work Thou didst set me to do." 
 
 "Grandma, Grandma, come quick," called the girl 
 excitedly. *'The bishop is just turning in at the door." 
 
 The bishop carried his three-score years almost 
 jauntily. He was upright, vigorous, and well dressed. 
 His aura exuded a state of comfortable well being, 
 despite the fact that, for the moment, he looked some- 
 what flustered. He was flanked on one side by a tall, 
 spare man, who wore a gray beard for a shirt-front and 
 used it for a cuspidor, and on the other by a nervous 
 little man with a red mustache. 
 
 Grandma opened the door. The bishop hardly knew 
 her, such a change had the last few years made in her. 
 She looked a woman old in body and broken in spirit. 
 The bishop's momentary scrutiny of her sad old face 
 reassured him ; he felt that, after all, he had little to 
 fear from her. As for the girl on the bed — that might 
 take a few greenbacks, but here experience gave him 
 confidence. Of course, he owed it to the fair name 
 of the church to induce her to shift the responsibility 
 of paternity to some Gentile — that was always a suc- 
 cess — and, as for squaring himself with the church, 
 well, the bishop knew what he knew. 
 
 He found the girl stubborn past all belief. Each gen- 
 eration of women grew worse and harder to control. 
 
 24 
 
THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMENT. 
 
 The bishop had really a bad half-hour. The presence 
 of Grandma irritated him dreadfully, too, not that she 
 said anything, but she was there, and, as he knew, it 
 is much harder to control a woman if one of her own 
 sex is present, and Grandma's presence was menacing. 
 He actually sweated before she said a word, and after' 
 well, he got so hot he almost suffocated; but he had to 
 listen. 
 
 The old lady spoke so quietly that any one in the 
 next room would have thought that she was discussing 
 the weather, but she wasn't; she had gone back a 
 quarter of a century, and was reminding the bishop of 
 certam matters that he had quite concluded to for-et 
 It was bad enough to listen himself, but to see "the 
 expressions on the faces of the other listeners was 
 maddenmg. He felt forced to interpose. ''Come 
 come, Lida," he said, " a jealous woman's tongue is 
 best silent. Supposing you do know some— er— mis- 
 takes I have made long ago, what are you to pass judg- 
 ment? A body would think you was Christ Him- 
 self. 
 
 "Christ's mother was a woman," Grandma answered 
 quietly, ''and I ain't figured out yet how God would 'a' 
 sent a Savior to the world if there hadn't been a 
 woman to bear Him. Women has rights, if your 
 church did try to take them away. The reason I have 
 for telling these things before Brother Smith and 
 Brother Baldwin and this last victim of your low lies 
 is that I want witnesses on both sides: your side and 
 mine. 
 
 The bishop's lips were white. "Witnesses ?" he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 "Witnesses," Grandma repeated. "I been gathering 
 
 25 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 evidence against you for a long time, and this last," 
 she motioned toward the bed, "was all I needed. The 
 prosecuting attorney has evidence enough against you 
 to hang you or send you up for State's keep for the rest 
 of your wicked life." 
 
 The bishop was plainly terrified. He looked around 
 as if for a means of escape, and, seeing none, dropped 
 on his shaking knees before the old woman and begged, 
 with tears, for mercy. She shifted the baby from one 
 shoulder to the other, and looked down on him calmly. 
 "Do you mind the time I was on my knees to you?" 
 she asked. He nodded miserably. 
 
 "Give me back my young husband, and my own 
 life, and I'll let you go free." 
 
 He mumbled despairingly, again his shifting eye 
 sought the doorway. 
 
 "You can't get out that way," the old lady said. 
 "There are detectives watching every move you make. 
 Get up off of your knees, you old coward." A sudden 
 sharp change in her voice. "I ain't going to have you 
 hung or your ears cut off or your eyes poked out — as 
 you deserve! I'll leave your eternal judgment to the 
 Master. But you are never going to set foot in the 
 meeting-house again ; you are going to resign from 
 all your business, and I am going to pay men with your 
 money, to watch every move you make. 
 
 "You are going to provide for Millie, and May, and. 
 their children, and for this girl here, and you are going 
 to acknowledge that you are the father of this child." 
 
 The bishop wrung his hands. "It will ruin me," he 
 whined. 
 
 26 
 
THE DAY OF HIS JUDGMENT, 
 
 "The church will excommunicate you — I'll see to 
 that," went on the stern old voice. *' 'Tain't that you 
 mustn't commit adultery, but that you mustn't be found 
 out at it. You've been found out." 
 
 The bishop sat down weakly and wiped his eyes. 
 He looked piteously from one to the other. "Ain't you 
 got any mercy?" he begged. "I'll make amends. I'll 
 give half my money, only don't, for God's sake, dis- 
 grace me publicly." 
 
 "I'm doing what I be for God's sake," Grandma 
 said inexorably, with a tightening of her shrunken lips. 
 "The general public won't know m.uch of this. I ain't 
 no publicity expert, and as long as you walk the road 
 I've set out for you, not so many outside of the church 
 will know that you have got your come-up-ence at last. 
 But don't forget for a minute that the law men are 
 watching you. You can go now ; a man will call at 
 your office for the money we want to start on." 
 
 The bishop leaned heavily on the arms of his coun- 
 selors as he walked out of the rickety old gate. He 
 knew he must do just as the old woman said ; he dare 
 not do otherwise. He felt old, and broken, and friend- 
 less. The day of his judgment had come. 
 
 27 
 
III. 
 
 THE THREAD OF SCARLET. 
 
 Religion had been Jane's watchword. One of her 
 earHest recollections was a shuddering watchfulness of 
 the sky, which, the elder said, was one day to "roll up 
 like a scroll," disclosing — Jane would close her light- 
 fringed lids over her big eyes, in sudden terror of 
 what it might disclose, of mystery, and awfulness, and 
 dread. 
 
 The wicked were to be burned as chaff ; and the 
 wicked were those who gave heed to other than spirit- 
 ual matters. Wicked, indeed, was the child who looked 
 covetously at the jar of striped peppermints on the 
 shelf at the corner store, or who dreamed of a bow of 
 blue ribbons tied to her scanty braid. A lack of spirit- 
 uality alone could account for such licentiousness, and 
 the only hope lay in added prayer and seeking after 
 righteousness. 
 
 Jane never knew which she would rather believe, 
 like her mother, that the wicked were to be burned as 
 chaff ; or, like her father, that they were to stay forever 
 and ever in a lake of fire. There were disadvantages 
 in either. Then, too, she never knew which day was 
 more to be dreaded, the day when she went to meeting 
 with her mother and looked at all of the other mothers 
 and daughters clad in soberest drab, with never a bow 
 or a gleaming brooch ; or the day she went to town with 
 her father, where she was sure to see, and be sorely 
 
 28 
 
THE THREAD OF SCARLET, 
 
 tempted by, a fluttering streamer on some hat, a col- 
 ored bow of ribbon on some braid, or distractingly 
 pretty ''edging" on some small petticoat or ''panties," 
 at which Jane would gaze with fascinated eye and al- 
 most decide on the lake of fire. 
 
 Her mother got weary of "watching," and it was 
 not long after they had lain her down to wait, near the 
 sacred Mount Olivet, that her father, too, went seeking 
 light in the outer darkness, leaving Jane alone, with the 
 Rocky Mountain farm and a little hoard of money ; also 
 with portions of the Bible memorized so that she could 
 say them backward. 
 
 Jane was twenty-five, and had been an old maid 
 fifteen years, when she got a letter from her cousin, 
 Sarah Bartlett, in New Orleans. This, in itself, was an 
 event, but its contents were a dispensation. Sarah be- 
 longed to that portion of her father's family, who, ac- 
 cording to her mother, had little wheat among them 
 all, that in the last appraisement they would all go as 
 chafif, pure and simple. Pushing a hand-cart across the 
 desert, in search of the long-lost garden, had not made 
 Jane's mother broad in her views ; but after her death, 
 Jane's father had spoken of them with a yearning af- 
 fection ; so, although Jane knew they were chafif, still, 
 the kindly tone in the letter appealed to her, and 
 brought a warm little glow to her heart that grew 
 warmer each time she read it over. This was so often 
 that she was ready for bed that night before she re- 
 membered that she had not even opened the Deseret 
 Nezvs or read a word in' the Book of Mormon. Thus 
 had Sarah's influence begun. 
 
 Sarah had written inviting, almost insisting, on 
 29 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Jane paying her a visit. She could not leave, as she 
 would like to do, to visit her cousin, Jane, on account 
 of being tied down by her business. She kept a milli- 
 nery and ladies' furnishing shop, she explained, and did 
 a very comfortable business. Her parents had died and 
 her brothers and sisters had moved away, and she was 
 lonely for some of her own kin. A letter from their 
 cousin, Melissy Fairview, had told her that Jane was 
 unmarried and alone, so she wrote at once to ask her 
 to come to New Orleans and stay as long as she could 
 with her affectionate cousin, Sarah Bartlett. Jane 
 went. Sarah was not better prepared for Jane than was 
 Jane for Sarah. But Sarah had hopes and Jane fears, 
 in the first hour of their meeting. Sarah had not been 
 a woman's furnisher for upward of twenty years with- 
 out having gained an optimistic knowledge of aids to 
 nature, and her mind immediately leaped to certain 
 shelves and boxes in her shop with reference to Jane. 
 Jane had not had the sin of worldliness poured over 
 and jammed down and heaped up in her consciousness 
 for a quarter of a century, not to recognize in Sarah 
 the very personification of sin ; in her voluminous dra- 
 peries, her velvet hat, with its long plume, well-gloved 
 hands, her lace-trimmed handkerchief, which, as she 
 held it daintily to her carefully powdered nose, smelled 
 plainly of ''scent." Jane felt the same fascination for 
 Sarah's fineness that she had years ago when she had 
 looked with lustful eyes at the bows of pink ribbon 
 on the braids of the worldly — felt and knew she must 
 watch and pray, lest a love of carnal things grow up 
 in her heart. 
 
 ******* 
 30 
 
THE THREAD OF SCARLET. 
 
 She was sadly bewildered by the din of the city. 
 But Sarah, although fairly flaunting the lusts of the 
 flesh before her eyes, looked kind, and amid all this 
 strangeness, familiar, from some subtle resemblance to 
 her father ; so she followed her meekly. 
 
 Sarah was tactful, having catered to feminine whims 
 for years, and she guessed much of Jane's inner atti- 
 tude by her outer humility of attire ; so in her easy, big- 
 hearted way she dispelled some of her visitor's nerv- 
 ousness and had her quite at her ease by the time they 
 had rested in her tiny flat above the shop, and chatted 
 over their tea. 
 
 Had Jane died and wakened with either the sound 
 of harps in her ears or the smell of brimstone in her 
 nostrils, she would have felt a certain sense of famil- 
 iarity, having heard both states of being so often de- 
 scribed; but this world, which her visit to her cousin 
 Sarah opened up, even her wildest imagination had 
 never pictured. 
 
 Sarah was a very busy woman, overseeing every bit 
 of her considerable business, waiting on the trade in a 
 rustling silk gown in the afternoons, and directing the 
 work in the trimming-room mornings ; keeping her flat 
 in spotless order, and preparing her simple meals, gave 
 her just leisure enough to enjoy to the full the society 
 of a few friends, an occasional trip to the theater, a 
 trolley ride, or a cozy evening alone, over a gas-log in 
 her bit of a parlor, with a pile of fashion books for 
 company and ideas. 
 
 Jane at once relieved her cousin of the housekeeping 
 cares, but they took so little of her time that she spent 
 hours together gazing out of the windows at the mot- 
 ley procession of strange people, and in looking over 
 
 31 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Sarah's few books. These were as far removed from 
 the accustomed grooves of her Hterary experience as 
 were the gaudily dressed Creoles from the somberly 
 clad devotees of her memory. One book in particular 
 held her enthralled, although she understood the mean- 
 ing of its words but slightly. The very name, "The 
 Rubaiyat," sounded like the ''black hand society," but 
 oh, the charm of it ! 
 
 Sometimes on dull mornings she would go down to 
 the shop with Sarah and look at the wonderful things 
 displayed in the cases. Sometimes she would touch 
 lingeringly a bit of bright ribbon or soft velvet with 
 her little, work-hardened fingers. 
 
 *'Do you ever think," she asked her cousin one day, 
 going into the latter's dressing-room when she was 
 preparing to go out with some friend, ''that it is wicked 
 to wear colors and jewelry — and — try to look nice?" 
 
 Sarah turned from the contemplation of her plump, 
 comely face in the mirror and looked at Jane, first with 
 amusement in her eyes and then with a tightening of 
 her lips, for Jane's prudery was beginning to get on 
 her nerves. 
 
 "No," she said firmly. "I don't; didn't God paint 
 the lily? Didn't He make the grass green and the sky 
 blue, and put the red on the robin's breast? Why.'^ 
 she added, as she adjusted a quivering wire rat in her 
 round "roughed" pompadour, "I sold a false front 
 to the bishop's wife yesterday." 
 
 Jane sat down weakly. At last the foundations of 
 her world trembled and her "sky rolled up like a 
 scroll." Her ego quivered with the shock. 
 
 A bishop's wife and a false front ! 
 
 "You should wear one yourself," Sarah continued, 
 
 32 
 
THE THREAD OF SCARLET. 
 
 calmly dipping her chamois first in flesh color and then 
 in red, and flashing a magically improved complexion 
 upon poor Jane, whose cheeks were as innocent of tint 
 as her virgin bosom was of contour and her soul of 
 sin. 
 
 ''Soon as the Mardi Gras is over, and we get set- 
 tled down, I'm going to fix you up," Sarah went on, 
 turning her eyes considerately away from Jane's burn- 
 ing face. '1 am sorry I have to be gone to-night. I 
 wanted to take you out to see the fun. Every one 
 wears a mask to-night, you know, and cuts up any dido 
 they feel like. 
 
 "Come on down, and I'll show you some costumes 
 that the girls unpacked this morning. They are the 
 cutest ever." 
 
 ******* 
 
 Jane looked and marveled at the wonderful things 
 Sarah put in her lap — beautiful garments, gaudy as a 
 butterfly's wings with tinsel and color. She touched 
 them almost fearfully. But "the vine had struck a 
 fiber." New thoughts and sensations ran like quick- 
 silver through her veins. Her unlived youth seemed 
 to arise through the mists of years and to look at her 
 with piteous, pleading eyes from the little heap of gay 
 garments in her lap. 
 
 New Orleans, at Mardi Gras, is shaken from its 
 usual languor and metamorphosed into a scene of 
 gayety. The wine of life is poured in rich libations 
 to the jocund gods. The body is laid aside, and the 
 spirit — the spirit of youth, and frolic, and carnival — 
 reigns. The bright pageantry, the gay music, the fan- 
 tastically clad street dancers — everywhere is color and 
 movement and boisterous joy of living. 
 
 33 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 Jane spent the day at the window, looking out. Her 
 soul, newly awakened, seemed to move and fret in her 
 body. She was afraid for life. 
 
 When the last of the girls had left the shop for the 
 day, she went down guardedly to brood over the mys- 
 teries in box and case. She hoped all the beautiful 
 things had not been sold. With a thrill of delight she 
 saw, as she lit the gas, that one quaint red gown yet 
 remained. Her hands touched the silken folds tenderly. 
 A saleswoman had evidently had the entire outfit co- 
 ercingly displayed, for they were all together, the 
 short, kilted skirts, the beruffled waist, the red mask, 
 the little shoes with the big gilt buckles, and the crim- 
 son, silken hose. Ah, Jane, Jane ! 
 
 Jane's hands shook as she fingered them over, the 
 dress, the shoes, and the silken hose. The sound of 
 laughter, of music, of hurrying feet, beat against the 
 closed door. 
 
 Jane sank trembling to her knees. She tried to pray, 
 but a madness was upon her and she could form no 
 words. She rose, and, gathering up the box and a 
 hastily selected article here and there, went with fleet 
 footsteps up the stairs to Sarah's dressing-room. 
 
 She tore off her plain gray gown, her modest shoes, 
 and her serviceable petticoat ; she loosed her scanty, 
 drab hair, and gazed long and long into the glass. But 
 she could not find herself in the reflection ; a stranger's 
 eye, bright with daring, and a rejuvenated face, with 
 hot, red cheeks, looked from it. She tried to cool the 
 cheeks with the palms of her hands, but they, too, 
 were burning — burning with eagerness to begin the 
 task that strange spirit prompted. First, to comb out 
 the meek, smooth locks and ''rough" them shamelessly 
 
 34 
 
THE THREAD OF SCARLET. 
 
 into a pompadour; to struggle desperately with a 
 whalebone of vanity and draw in her meager waist to 
 fit the clasp of that knee-short skirt ; to pull on the long, 
 red stockings and buckle on the shoes, too — ah ! Jane 
 had learned, or, perhaps, something in her which she 
 had forgotten, remembered. This strange creature, 
 with shining eyes and eager, tremulous mouth, did not 
 pause even at squeezing the atomizer and sprinkling 
 "scent" all over her little beruffled self, or hesitate at 
 slipping the mask over her glowing face. 
 
 She went to the window and leaned out. There was 
 a throng of revelers in the street. Some one looked 
 up and threw a handful of confetti at her. She laughed 
 — this strange, strange Jane! and ran with eager feet 
 down the stair to the shop, slid back the bolt, and went 
 out into the night 
 
 Such a night ! How far removed from the sanctified, 
 silvery light of the moon as it shone on the hillsides 
 and in the valleys of her distant home. This night was 
 golden. There was an intoxicating fragrance in the 
 air from myriads of flovv^ers. Jane crushed some be- 
 neath her feet as she stepped giddily on the pavement. 
 A float, flower-laden, drawn by white horses, richly 
 caparisoned with woven roses, passed her, amid wild 
 tooting of horns and shrieks of laughter from its fan- 
 tastically clad occupants. A passing troubadour bent 
 low to peer into her eyes, and a clown blew his horn 
 in her ear. 
 
 The crowd bore her along toward a public park. 
 Sometimes she was jostled roughly, and once she 
 paused, terror-stricken, the old Jane tremblingly awake 
 
 35 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 in the new Jane's body ; but only for an instant, for 
 no sooner had the terror come than it was dispelled by 
 a broad-shouldered man in a monk's cassock and cowl, 
 who took her hand and guided her through the throng. 
 
 Jane looked up into his eyes — and lived. 
 
 She did not know where they went or what they 
 said, but she knew that the touch of his hand was 
 ecstasy and the sound of his voice magic. For the 
 first time in her narrow, restricted life, Jane was con- 
 scious of the glory and power of her womanhood. 
 
 They paused near a musically murmuring fountain. 
 Memory rose like a mist over the sun of her newly 
 found happiness. She knew that she could never sing, 
 **Is My Name Written There?" in the old, safe as- 
 surance again. But what if it were erased from the 
 book of everlasting life? It was written here, now, in 
 one night of vivid, pulsating experience. 
 
 A line from Omar sang itself in her mind. She 
 understood it now — she repeated it to her companion : 
 
 **Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend." 
 And he had quoted back, with a look that was as the 
 warmth of red wine : 
 
 "Oh, my beloved, fill the cup that clears 
 To-day of past regrets and future fears." 
 
 Approaching dawn laid her cool fingers on the 
 fevered night before Jane found her way — still with her 
 masked protector — to the door of her cousin's shop. 
 Dawn, and Jane not abed ! Jane, whose wildest festiv- 
 ity had been to stay up till ten at a church social ! 
 
 She sat long at the window that morning, clad again 
 in her plain, dark clothes, her hair smoothed back in 
 its accustomed unbecomingness, and tried to find her- 
 
 36 
 
THE THREAD OF SCARLET. 
 
 self. She tried prayerfully to pick up the gray threads 
 from which the fabric of her life was woven, and to 
 go on with the pattern. But this she could never do. 
 The thread of scarlet had been woven in. 
 
 Z7 
 
IV. 
 THE GARMENT OF SALVATION. 
 
 * * * For he hath clothed me with the garments of 
 salvation, * * * He hath covered me with the robes of 
 righteousness. * * * — Isaiah lxi. io. 
 
 It was a hot evening early in August when the em- 
 ployees thankfully emerged from the sweltering heat 
 of the cannery and exchanged the steaming odor of 
 tomatoes for the pure air of the outer world. 
 
 There were varying expressions of relief and fa- 
 tigue on the heat-flushed faces of the women. Perhaps 
 the relief was mirrored strongest on the face of Hilda 
 Swanson, the new convert from Sweden, and certainly 
 the fatigue showed deepest on the face of the woman 
 just behind her, old "Aunt" Lila. 
 
 There was more than fatigue in Aunt Lila's face ; 
 there was a sad hopelessness as though she looked in- 
 ward and saw always the bitter fruitage which had 
 grown from the early planting of her soul. 
 
 Her ill-fitting cotton dress was stained with the red 
 juice of the tomatoes, which she peeled with stolid pre- 
 cision from morning until night. 
 
 Despite the heat, Aunt Lila wore a hat that had been 
 blue velvet, and once, so long ago that it had out- 
 grown even the suspicion of the reputation, had been 
 new. 
 
 38 
 
THE GARMENT OF SALVATION. 
 
 Her hands were scarred, and cut, and stained from 
 their wearisome toil. 
 
 The new girl looked from the older woman's face to 
 her hands, and thought longingly of her native Sweden. 
 If this were what it meant, that life which the mission- 
 ary had told them about, poor, stupid Hilda failed to 
 grasp its meaning. She had worked in Sweden and 
 she worked here, but there there had been much com- 
 pany and merry-making with the youth of her kind, 
 that youth who cared nothing for the Grail of the 
 Spirit or even knew that Christ was to come again in 
 seven short years, and select the sheep (the Mormons) 
 to sit at His right hand and tell the goats (the Gentiles) 
 to about face and depart from Him into unending 
 night. 
 
 It had seemed plain to Hilda, and the blue of 
 Swedish sky had grown black with dread of that awful 
 day which the young missionary, convincing with facts 
 and figures, assured her was so soon to dawn. She 
 had gone to join His chosen, but instead of making 
 ready v/ith white garmicnts and keeping her lamp 
 trimmed and burning, she had peeled tomatoes. And 
 instead of being soothed by the oil of sanctity, she had 
 been appalled by tales of corruption and moral filth 
 until she had wondered if, after all, the annointed were 
 nearer to His Kingdom than were some of the pure- 
 minded youth of her own unconsecrated land. 
 
 >K :k ^ ;i; H: 5fs * 
 
 She fell into step with old Aunt Lila. "It ban hot," 
 she said, by way of conversation. 
 
 "Terrible," agreed Aunt Lila, wiping the sweat from 
 her face. 
 
 39 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "My man ban in Salt Lake City lookin' for a yob," 
 further informed Hilda. 
 
 "Oh, are you married?" Aunt Lila asked. 
 
 "Oh, yas, a ban canned in the Temple." 
 
 "Canned !" exclaimed Aunt Lila ; then, comprehend- 
 ing, her face fell into little lines and wrinkles, which 
 showed how it might have looked if life had ever let 
 her laugh. 
 
 "You mean sealed," she said. 
 
 "They are yust the same," Hilda insisted, with native 
 stubbornness. "Sometime the boss he say seal the 
 tomatoes, and sometime he say can." 
 
 "It's just the same. It means that you can't get 
 out," Aunt Lila said, the bitterness falling like a veil 
 over her face. 
 
 "What say?" 
 
 "Where do you live?" the older woman asked, in- 
 stead of repeating her bitter speech. 
 
 "Ve got a room on Twenty-fort Street, over a saloon. 
 My man, he drink, sometime a ban so scared." Her 
 childish eyes were very wide and wistful. 
 
 "I live out on the bench. If you want, you can stay 
 all night with me," Aunt Lila said. 
 
 Hilda caught her breath with a little sob. "A tank 
 you ban so goot." 
 
 It was a long walk up to the bench, long and hot, 
 but it cost five cents each for them to ride, so Aunt 
 Lila thought best to buy an extra loaf of bread against 
 the entertainment of her company. 
 
 Aunt Lila had two of the fourteen souls which she 
 had furnished with sturdy Mormon bodies still to sup- 
 port. These two, a boy and a girl, came out of the 
 gate to meet them. 
 
 40 
 
THE G ARM EXT OF SALVATION. 
 
 "This is one of the new girls from the factory," 
 their mother said by way of introduction. *'You can 
 step over to Sister Avory's and get a pint of milk and 
 a half-dozen eggs, Willie; tell her maw will pay her 
 Saturday night." 
 
 She then took the girl's hat and seated her near the 
 open door, where she could get the breeze from the 
 caiion. She threw her own hat on the bed and pinned 
 on an apron. With it, she seemed to put on a certain 
 grace of womanliness. 
 
 The Swedish girl's round, blue eyes filled with tears. 
 
 ''You ban so goot," she choked. The old woman 
 patted her flaxen head. 
 
 "Oh, you poor, poor girl," she said sadly. She 
 brooded for a long moment over the girl, and her mis- 
 guided type, as did He, who brooded over Jerusalem. 
 "How often would I have gathered ye into my arms 
 * * * but ye would not." 
 
 She went heavily about the preparation of the simple 
 meal. 
 
 Hilda helped the little girl wash up the dishes, and 
 Aunt Lila sat in the doorway and mended the seat of 
 Willie's school pants. When it got too dark for her to 
 see she went inside, and getting her little brood to bed 
 for the night, she went back to her seat in the doorway, 
 but not to work, to think ! Oh, God, in mercy ! to 
 think. She sat until the dusk deepened to dark, until 
 the moon arose and silver-coated the mountains and 
 made a path of jewels down the river. She thought 
 of the poor little convert asleep in her bed, of her chil- 
 dren, those who had been called to rest until He 
 came. 
 
 41 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Those who were battling with the many-faced host 
 of Life's army, of those two asleep in the silent, moon- 
 lit room. Then the wheels of time turned backward, 
 and she thought of herself, a child in the farmhouse 
 in Indiana, of her girlhood, and even now, the memory 
 hung like a picture with a gilded background, of her 
 first lover, of their walks in fragrant, moonlit country 
 lanes. Then of her conversion to Mormonism, of the 
 long journey across the plains to reach ''the promised 
 land." Of the semicircle of covered wagons, of the 
 Indians, and how they bought peace by an offering 
 from each wagon spread out in pitiful display for their 
 haughty inspection. 
 
 Of their arrival in Salt Lake, of their first days 
 of religious fervor and rejoicing that their train of sixty 
 wagons had reached the city in safety. 
 
 Then, her thoughts trembled before the crowd of 
 those other memories ; of the courting of one of the 
 holy men of Zion ; of her fear, despair, loathing — and 
 marriage in the Temple. Of his taking her to a little 
 patch of ground out Corrine way; of the handful of 
 chickens, and poorly fed cows with which she was to 
 make a living for herself and as many children which 
 the good God should send her. 
 
 She thought of the miserable adobe house where 
 she lived those toiling days, those anxious days, those 
 mad days, until when he had come to see her, she 
 turned on him like the very fury of hate, demanding 
 her freedom. Heaping awful words of abuse against 
 the Holy Faith, against the apostles of the Lord, 
 against even the sacredness of the revelation and cove- 
 nant of plural marriage. She had even said that she 
 didn't beUeve it was a revelation. 
 
 42 
 
THE GARMENT OF SALVATION. 
 
 In her desperation she had threatened him with the 
 law of the land. The law of the land ! When he was 
 armed with the authority of the Most High ! 
 
 Oh, she had raved ! The memory was with her still. 
 It was a case so serious that no man, even one so in- 
 experienced in the ways of many wives, could cope with 
 alone. So he had gone back to Zion and returned, and, 
 with the aid of other holy men, set out to subdue the 
 awful spirit and set loose the devil that had come to 
 dwell in the person of his seventh wife. 
 
 These men were all experienced in ''breakini:^ in" 
 obstreperous females. But as a colt will astonish the 
 most skilful trainer, so did she astonish and grieve 
 those holy men. They had to go unusual lengths to 
 subdue her, even to tying a rope around her neck, none 
 too laxly, and throwing her into Salt Creek. And even 
 though she choked until she was black in the face and 
 seemed almost to the point of giving up her awful 
 spirit to the avenging God, still was she not subdued 
 until to her dying ears came the sound that has taken 
 every mother throughout the ages into the very den 
 of. the enemy, the cry of her young in pain. She held 
 up her hand in token of submission. 
 
 She could stand torture for herself, but none for her 
 baby. Memory made its anguished cry sound again in 
 her ears. For that, just as the canny elder knew, when 
 he had frightened the child, she would have gone down 
 from heaven and entered the very gates of hell. 
 
 She did not faint or falter until she had snatched it 
 from the old demon's arms and soothed and quieted it. 
 Then had come a moment of blessed forgetting. They 
 
 43 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 waited, those brave men, until she "came to" and prom- 
 ished all they asked. Women usually promised — of 
 course, there were a few — but the desert tells no tales. 
 All this had been long ago, and yet, by the magic of 
 memory, it was to-night. She gasped in pain, and, 
 putting her scarred, stained hands up to her throat, 
 loosened her collar. She caught her breath in quick, 
 painful jerks. The rope ! The rope was there. There 
 where the moonlight shone on a pallid scar. She shiv- 
 ered with the memory of that icy water, she tasted the 
 brine in her mouth, and the tears smarted in her eyes. 
 She rose up and stretched out her arms to the night- 
 sky. 
 
 The fire of a long-smoldering resentment flamed up 
 and scorched her well-disciplined soul. 
 
 She went into the house and shook the Swedish girl 
 into wakefulness. 
 
 She sat up, blinking stupidly. ''Hilda," the old 
 woman asked, "have you got on your garment?" 
 
 The girl nodded, bewildered. 
 
 "Do you know what it means?" 
 
 "Yes," the girl whispered, her big eyes dilated with 
 fear. "Ven you talk vat you know, or you break those 
 vows you get killed so, on your heart." 
 
 The woman nodded. "Good Mormons must wear 
 them, but not you, Hilda." 
 
 "Sometimes, vat it mean if you tak them off?" the 
 girl asked, in a whisper. 
 
 "Sometimes this," the woman said, laying bare her 
 throat. The girl gasped with horror. "You ban hong," 
 she breathed. 
 
 "Listen," the woman said, holding her arm tight. 
 "Take off that garment, do as I say," as the girl hesi- 
 
 44 
 
THE GARMENT OF SALVATION. 
 
 tated, frightened out of her wits. ''SHp on your shoes 
 and come with me." 
 
 They half-ran down the steep Uttle path to the 
 river and both knelt on the bank, and Hilda, shaking 
 with fear, obeyed the gesture of the woman's hand and 
 threw the sacred garment out into the rushing current 
 of the moon-silvered river. They watched its swift 
 sailing on the breast of the tide with superstitious awe, 
 then climbed the rugged path back to the house. 
 
 The woman knelt down by the sleeping children and 
 wakened the boy. 
 
 ''Willie," she said, 'look here." 
 *T seen that before," he said, as his eyes followed 
 her fingers to the scar. 
 
 ''Willie, I hate your father !" 
 
 "Un-hun," Willie acquiesced, sleepily. Then to 
 change an unpleasant subject, said: "Maw, I want a 
 nickel to-morrow. I gotta get a tablet." 
 
 Wilhe threatened to lapse again into insensibility, 
 but his mother shook him. 
 
 "Listen," she said again. Willie and the strange 
 girl from Sweden listened, wondering and afraid. 
 
 "I hate your father ; I've hated him for forty years, 
 forty years," she repeated. "He is an old man and 
 I am an old woman, but I have hated him every day 
 and every hour since that time when he helped them to 
 do this." 
 
 She put her hand up to her throat, and the boy 
 sobbed breathlessly. 
 
 "He never supported me, never, although he is a 
 rich man. 
 
 45 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "I've worked all my life with these hands." She 
 held them out in witness. 
 
 "I have starved and cared for fourteen children. 
 You are almost raised now. Before many years I can 
 rest, rest." Her voice dropped and lingered over the 
 word. "Through all these years I have worn the 
 garment, I have paid my tithing, I have gone humbly 
 before all men. I have never been housed, or clothed, 
 or fed as a decent woman should be. I have thought 
 that I could endure to the end, but to-night I am 
 through." 
 
 She loosened her gown, and they heard the tearing 
 of a cotton fabric. 
 
 "Listen," her voice had sunk to a whisper. "In the 
 morning I am going to Salt Lake to see your father. 
 When I come back we four will get on the cars and 
 go away." 
 
 "Maw," the boy caught at her hand, "what are you 
 going to do?" he sobbed. 
 
 "I am going to your father. I am going to lock him 
 in his room, and hold this" — she laughed huskily and 
 walked over to the bureau, and took from a drawer 
 a little box; this she opened and they saw something- 
 gleam like silver in the moonlight — "this revolver to 
 his head until he draws a check of five thousand dollars 
 to me. If he won't — but he will," she answered her 
 own doubt. 
 
 She caressed the shining thing before she put it back 
 into the box. 
 
 She didn't put the box back into the drawer again, 
 but dropped it into an old shopping-bag. 
 
 46 
 
THE GARMENT OF SALVATION, 
 
 The boy whimpered and the little girl stirred rest- 
 lessly in her sleep. The woman lit a lamp. When she 
 spoke again, her voice sounded so assured and natural 
 that the tense lines of terror in the Swedish girl's face 
 relaxed, and the boy lay back with a sigh of relief. 
 
 "You will stay with the children, Hilda, you needn't 
 go to school, Willie." 
 
 Willie nodded in drowsy relief. 
 
 'T'll take the early train over and will try to be back 
 by two o'clock. Don't be afraid." She put her hands 
 on the girl's for an instant. 
 
 "There is law now, thank God, oh, thank God ! We 
 are going, mark me, we are going." 
 
 The morning papers in Salt Lake City chronicled the 
 sudden death the day before of one of its early pion- 
 eers, a bishop in the church. 
 
 The death had been unexpected, although the doctor 
 had warned them of the danger of a sudden shock. But 
 as far as his family knew, he had received none. 
 
 A check for five thousand dollars had been made 
 out by him and dated the very day of his death. The 
 check was made out to and cashed by one of the la- 
 mented's first wives, who, the papers stated, had left 
 Ogden the evening before. 
 
 47 
 
V. 
 
 THE ISLES THAT WAIT. 
 
 Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as doves to their 
 window? Surely the isles shall wait for me. — Isaiah lx. 9. 
 
 Bishop Jones had led a long life, and stood as an ex- 
 ample to the youth of Zion. He had raised some fifty- 
 odd saplings in the vineyard of the Lord, and had 
 builded him an enormous business, from the employees 
 of which was weekly gathered a goodly sum in tithing 
 for the — but just what, no man rightly knows, though 
 there are some so gross as to say, for the enrichment 
 of the leaders in this cause of righteousness. 
 
 The bishop interpreted the scriptural command as 
 to the trimming of his lamp, that it might be bright and 
 burning on the day of His coming, to mean that he 
 must take unto himself as many wives as he could get, 
 and sedulously fulfil the commandment to increase and 
 multiply, by bringing all the olive branches possible 
 into the world, from which to wave the proud banner 
 of his name. 
 
 If by chance any one confronted the bishop with 
 certain laws made by the land which sheltered him, or 
 even mentioned a certain passage in Christ's sermon on 
 the mount, he would turn to his much-bethumbed book 
 of the Doctrine and Covenants, and, finding the one 
 hundred and thirty-second section, would point a long 
 
 48 
 
THE ISLES THAT WAIT. 
 
 forefinger to certain unmistakable language given 
 therein : *'And if any man espouse a virgin and desire 
 to espouse another, and the first give her consent ; and 
 he espouse another and they are vowed to no other 
 man, then he is justified, for he cannot commit adultery 
 with that which belongeth to him and no one else. And 
 if he have ten virgins given unto him by the law, he 
 cannot commit adultery, for they are given unto him, 
 therefore he is justified. But if any one or either of 
 the ten virgins after she is espoused, shall be with an- 
 other man, she has committed adultery, for they are 
 given to him to multiply and replenish the earth, ac- 
 cording to the commandment given to my father before 
 the foundation of the world." 
 
 It is probable that such a commandment was given 
 before the foundation of this world, for, since we are 
 given to understand that He who founded it put there- 
 on people with some ideas of decency (witness the fig- 
 leaf), we know that if He had waited until after this 
 to give such a licentious, self-debasing command, they 
 wouldn't have stood for it. Secondly, if we were to 
 subscribe to that revelation, we must admit that the 
 Savior of humanity was mistaken, for we have heard 
 it said that He said that ''Whosoever looketh on a 
 woman to lust after her hath committed adultery al- 
 ready in his heart." (Christ's sermon on the mount.) 
 
 Is there, then, another, truer teaching than Christ's ? 
 The bishop would so have us believe. 
 
 Then, too, if we follow the bishop, it is no sin, but 
 rather a virtue for the male portion of creation to com- 
 mit adultery, but it is a sin unpardonable for that part 
 
 49 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 which was made from his rib to so much as flutter an 
 eyelash in any direction than that of her sectional hus- 
 band. We, who know our Doctrine and Covenants, 
 know well the fate that threatened Sarah if she ob- 
 jected to her husband increasing his marital business. 
 But even so, there are women, it is written with hesi- 
 tation, right in Zion who are not willing to be, or happy 
 after being, polygamous helpmates. That they are not 
 fully content with the practise of the divine revelation 
 showed quite clearly in the conversation held one after- 
 noon in Sister Jones' kitchen by a number of sisters 
 of the faith. Sister Jones was one of the first of the 
 bishop's several wives. As sometimes happens in a 
 Mormon family it had fallen to one of the wives to 
 care for the children of several. Some of the wives 
 may die, and some be compelled to work in order to 
 support themselves and children. Such a lot had been 
 Sister Jones'. 
 
 A good Mormon woman should desire nothing be- 
 yond the plainest necessities: it is not good for them, 
 and tends to distract the mind from the privilege of 
 holiness. It is much safer to entrust a man with 
 what he wants : he can keep his eye on the reward of 
 the spirit while he caters to the lusts of the flesh — 
 but a woman ! That is different. It is safe to assume 
 that if she has a full stomach she will want a new 
 dress ; if she gets a new dress she will want a new hat, 
 so that she can go out to show it ; if she has the hat, 
 the chances are nine out of ten that she will *'set up" 
 for shoes, and there you are ! A woman and small 
 children have much need to learn *The Word of 
 Wisdom," which means that you must not have what 
 you want. 
 
 50 
 
THE ISLES THAT WAIT. 
 
 This Sister Jones was, generally speaking, a good 
 soul, but she had moments of recklessness ; she had to- 
 day when Sister Johnston and Sister Slocum and two 
 of the teachers all happened to come in. It was a 
 rainy day, and they tracked in considerable mud on her 
 freshly scrubbed floor. Dolly, a child of one of the 
 younger wives, who was out working, had the mumps, 
 and sat by the fire with her grotesquely swollen little 
 face swathed about with spicy-smelling flannel cloths. 
 
 It was Easter week, and Sister Johnston, who was 
 an English woman, and who, even in Zion, cherished 
 some of the traditions of her country, had brought 
 over a pan»of her hot cross buns. The little girl held 
 one of them in her hand, but had refrained, after the 
 first painful bite, from eating it. Her flushed little 
 face was sullen with discontent. Sister Johnston looked 
 discontented, too — the buns made her homesick for her 
 happier life in the Fatherland. Sister Jones' face wore 
 the same expression. She was ironing; she spat on 
 the iron, to test its temperature, with some fierceness. 
 "Often and often I wonder what it's all for," she said. 
 
 Sister Johnston seemed to know what she meant. 
 "So do h'l. Life ain't worth nothing to me." 
 
 "I was at meetin' last night," Sister Slocum said; 
 "an elder was sayin' that we won't have to look to this 
 world, but get our joy in the next; 'tain't but a few 
 more years now till Christ comes to reward the faith- 
 ful," she sighed."* 
 
 "Well, eternity's all right, I suppose," Sister Jones 
 said grudgingly, "but I can't make out, if they are 
 so sure Christ is coming so soon, why they keep on 
 
 *The Mormons teach that Christ is coming in 1914. 
 51 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 building churches, and fine houses, and bringing chil- 
 dren into the world. That ain't no fitting way to get 
 ready for Him, seems to me." 
 
 One of the teachers, feehng the heresy in this re- 
 mark, hastened to interpose before Sister Johnston (al- 
 ways a dissenter) sided in. ''Sister Jones," she said, 
 *'the commandment is to keep your lamp trimmed and 
 burning." 
 
 Sister Jones glanced at the child and said bitterly: 
 'Well, He will find plenty of candles burning, if that's 
 what you mean. 'Pears to me that if the men filled 
 some other part of the Scripture as faithful as they do 
 the *Be fruitful' part, it would be a better world." 
 
 This time Sister Johnston did side in. "So do h'l," 
 she said sententiously. "Bishop was around to see me 
 again yesterday, about going through the temple. He 
 thinks h'l ought to get sealed to John. I don't see 
 why ; we was married tight and fast enough in h'Eng- 
 land. But he said we ought to be sealed for eternity. 
 'H'indeed h'l don't,' h'l says to him, *h'I get too much 
 of 'im 'ere. H'l want some rest if h'l get to 'eaven !' " 
 
 "Still," the teacher objected, "a woman can't get to 
 heaven unless she is led by a man, and you won't have 
 a man to lead you if you ain't sealed to one." 
 
 "Huh !" sniflfed Sister Johnston, "seems like a woman 
 'as got to 'ave 'ell on this world, in h'order to escape 
 it h'in the next." 
 
 "It does so," agreed Sister Jones. She glanced at 
 the pan of buns, at the big basket of unironed clothes, 
 back at the buns, hesitated, and was lost. "Let's have 
 a cup of tea," she said venturesomely, "and eat Sister 
 Johnston's buns." 
 
 52 
 
THE ISLES THAT WAIT. 
 
 "'Ave you black tea?" quavered Sister Johnstorx 
 hopefully. 
 
 "Make Mormon tea," admonished the teacher. "It's 
 against the word of wisdom to use tea or coffee except 
 in case of sickness." 
 
 "I'm sick," the child said. 
 
 "We are all sick," Sister Jones added. "Heart and 
 soul sick. If I want a brewin' of black tea, I'm going 
 to have it; wisdom or no." 
 
 "Well," the teacher admitted yieldingly, "we are 
 mortal damp." 
 
 So Sister Jones made her unchristian cup of tea, and 
 set aside her ironing, and the four women gathered 
 around the table and drank it, and ate Sister John- 
 ston's buns. Sister Jones became quite garrulous over 
 her second cup, and the intoxicating experience of sit- 
 ting down in the daytime. The faces of Sisters John- 
 ston and Slocum, and of one of the teachers reflected 
 sympathy, and of the other teacher, to whom a 
 new idea was as unwelcome to her mind as was a draft 
 to the back of her neck, disapproval with Sister Jones' 
 daring remarks: "Bearin' the souls of men, as the 
 Cov'nant says, ain't all a woman wants in this world," 
 Sister Jones said. "I bore thirteen myself, and raised 
 as many more, but do you think that has satisfied all 
 my longings? It ain't. When I was a girl, back in 
 Missoury, I used to read novels — wa'n't no harm in 
 them," in response to the teacher's look, "and I always 
 dreamed of the way them book folks lived. Maybe it's 
 wicked, but I always kept it in mind ; their lives seemed 
 so — so full, some way. My ! how I would like to hear 
 
 53 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 folks like them talk, the way they do in books, where 
 they just break off in the sentence and finish in French 
 or some forrin' tongue. 'Pears to me that if God should 
 judge agin' them, they could just smile any way, and 
 say, I've had my heaven here.' " 
 
 The teacher breathed a chesty sigh. " 'Tain't ours 
 to judge, sister," she said. She glanced toward the 
 child, now half-asleep in her chair. **Dally ought not 
 to hear such talk," she said. 
 
 Sister Jones poured some more hot water over the 
 tea-grounds. *'Do you suppose it would hurt Dally 
 any more than what she heard her paw say the other 
 morning?" she asked, her tired old eyes flashing with 
 indignation. "I don't know as I have a call to be 
 shielding him," she said, as in answer to an inner 
 thought. "He ain't smoothed my path none. Sister 
 Libbie, Daily's maw, has just been put to it to raise 
 money to pay Willie's doctor bill. Yes, he's some 
 better, but the poor boy is pretty miserable yet. Dally 
 here was just barefoot and had to have shoes before she 
 could start into school Monday. I says to her maw 
 that I'd go see her paw and see if he wouldn't get her 
 shoes (it's almost lucky she has the mumps now, it 
 gives me an excuse to send the teacher). It's been 
 years since I've asked for so much as that." She 
 snapped her toil-blunted fingers. "Well, come Mon- 
 day, I took her and went up to his office. I wanted to 
 get the money and get her shoes before school called. 
 She had to wear a pair of her maw's, and she hung 
 back, pouting, for fear some of her mates should 
 see her and call shame to her. Her poor little feet 
 were rattling like peas in a pod, the shoes was so 
 loose on her, and I didn't blame her much. I was 
 
 54 
 
THE ISLES THAT WAIT. 
 
 plumb took back when I went into his office. He always 
 tells us that he is so poor that he can scarce make out ; 
 but, shucks ! There was carpet on the floor, and he was 
 sitting at a handsome desk in one of them turnin'- 
 chairs. He didn't look poor. I went up to him and 
 said, shortlike, that I had come for money to get the 
 child some shoes. He looked at me, smiling, and asked 
 *Why?' 'Because you brought her into the world,' 
 I said, and he answered me with these w^ords. Dally 
 heard him, poor little thing: 'If I bought shoes for 
 every brat I have brought into the world,' he says, 'I'd 
 be a poor man.' '' 
 
 ******* 
 
 Little Dally roused up and began to cry. *']\Iy ears 
 ache," she sobbed. The old lady took her up in her 
 arms. "That's just what that man said, wasn't it, 
 auntie?'' she whimpered. 
 
 "That man ! Why, land sakes, child, 'e's your paw !" 
 Sister Johnston exclaimed, scandalized. 
 
 "She scarce senses it," Sister Jones said. "She 
 ain't seen him but a few times ; he ain't no m.ore a 
 paw to her, the w-ay I sense the relationship, than that 
 there man across the street. He used to notice some of 
 the first children, but now he don't know these here 
 ones by sight. There, there, Dally, stop crying. I 
 know they ache, but that hot flannel'll ease them. Oh, 
 it's the shoes you're crying about? Well, shut up, 
 then ; didn't I tell you I'd get you some as soon as I 
 finish this ironing, and ]\Iiss Silver pays me?" 
 
 "Of course,'' the teacher conceded, "Bishop ought 
 not to have spoke so. But I suppose he is pestered 
 awful. He can't be expected to put out money on all 
 his children, even President Smith don't do that." 
 
 55 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "That's what I say ain't right," Sister Jones said, 
 clearing away the tea things and getting her ironing- 
 board out. "A man ought to provide for what he 
 brings in the world." 
 
 "That's what I think, too," Sister Slocum said. "And 
 if I have to get to heaven by hangin' on to some of 
 these old Mormons' hands, I'd about as soon not go." 
 
 The teachers looked at each other, and the younger 
 shook her head. Three dissenters in one afternoon! 
 But there was no need in argument ; they saw that. 
 When they rose to go, however, the elder onfc gripped 
 her duty in both hands, and asked them urgently to 
 come to meeting. 
 
 Sister Jones shook her head as she smoothed a 
 garment over the ironing-board. "I might drag my 
 legs to the meetin'-house/' she said, "but after what 
 the bishop said yesterday I couldn't whip my soul into 
 submission. If I'm lost, I'm lost. But after all these 
 years, after seeing my children scattered about by the 
 winds of adversity, and me at sixty taking in washing 
 for a living, and him to speak to me like that — no, I 
 can't go to meeting. I will pray to Him here. All I 
 want now is some place to rest ; maybe I'll find some 
 little spot among all them mansions. But I'll wait 
 here." 
 
 S6 
 
VI. 
 
 A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 Ruth Simms had Hved all of her life in the shadow of 
 the temple. She knew its every curve and angle, and 
 as familiar as her own father, was the form of the 
 Angel Moroni who stands in gilded splendor on the 
 eastern tower of that remarkable building, built as was 
 Solomon's temple of old, without sound of hammer, 
 but reverently, brick on brick, into a mighty monument 
 of faith. 
 
 Ruth believed that within those walls one learned 
 the mystery of God and the purpose of life; she 
 thrilled with awe at the prospect of entering its sacred 
 walls, to be sealed for time and eternity to Wilson 
 Herrick, and to look at last upon the truth revealed. 
 
 Not every couple in Zion are deemed worthy, by 
 those in authority, to be sealed in this holy of holies ; 
 some are married by the bishops in the ward meeting- 
 houses, for time, and must prove their fitness by a 
 sedulous obedience to the laws of the church, before 
 they can enter the temple. For not even under the 
 very thumb of the Presidency is every spiritual lamp 
 kept properly trimmed, for even as did the serpent 
 enter into the garden, so now, in the very shadow of 
 the temple entereth worldliness, worldliness, my chil- 
 dren, so that not all are fitted to "walk with him in 
 white garments." 
 
 57 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Ruth was worthy; both by reason of the standing 
 of her family in the church, and her own earnest work 
 in the Sabbath school and the "Mutual," was she 
 both called and chosen for the temple rites, and as 
 for Elder Herrick — was he not just returned from a 
 fruitful mission in Australia where his beguiling eye 
 and plausible tongue had fully persuaded a number 
 of souls, tottering on the very brink of apostasy, to 
 seek the green fields of Zion and there await the com- 
 ing of the King? Elder Herrick had done well, he had 
 returned with a goodly number of the saved souls of 
 the enemy as did the warriors of old with their scalps, 
 into the camps of his fathers ; he had brought with him 
 converts who had filled his people with pleasure, for 
 even as there is more rejoicing in heaven over the one 
 lost sheep than over the ninety and nine that stayed 
 about the fold, so is there in Zion over the one convert 
 with money than over the ninety and nine who count 
 their small change, and the elder had brought with 
 him two families of wealth to give a tenth of their sub- 
 stance to the cause of Righteousness, so verily was he 
 worthy when the day dawned that he and his bride 
 were to make ready for the anointing in the name of 
 the Spirit. 
 
 Ruth entered the temple in thrilled exaltation, and 
 walked through the first rooms of the endowment with 
 a feeling as though she was approaching the very gate 
 of glory, but some of the service worried her, and 
 some of the promises she made, gave her a vague pain 
 of foreboding, and in that chamber where the rended 
 veil shows a skeleton of horror instead of an angel 
 of light, she fainted — brides often do — and was sealed 
 by proxy — brides often are. 
 
 58 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 For the ceremony, as to the time it takes to be per- 
 formed, gives a foretaste of the eternity for which it 
 it preparing, and as there are no refreshment stands 
 in the temple, the spirit does not always support the 
 body of the devotee all the way through, but they al- 
 ways see enough to remember — and usually to obey. 
 
 Ruth loved her husband with all the ardor of her 
 nature, and in those first days when they spent their 
 honeymoon at the Great Salt Lake, set like a jewel 
 in the hills, and reflecting the intense, cloudless blue 
 of Utah's summer skies, to the lovely Lagoon, where 
 a fresh-water lake snuggles close under the shadow of 
 the mountain, through the grand caiions of the Wasatch 
 and back to their own little adobe home on the shore 
 of the Jordan River, she thought that she had sensed 
 in the silences of God's outdoor temples the mystery 
 and the meaning of life which she had failed to grasp 
 in the mighty tabernacle made with hands. She made 
 of her home a shrine. She was a housewifely, domes- 
 tic little woman, and each article of furniture that came 
 into the house filled her with a joyous sense of pos- 
 session. She loved to move them about ; to drape back 
 her crisp new curtains in new ways, and to cut won- 
 derful, intricate, scalloped edges in paper to decorate 
 her cupboard shelves, and on which she arranged and 
 rearranged her adored rosebud china and her little 
 blue tea set. It gave her a sense of fulfilment to make 
 a batch of bread "turn out" right, and a joy bordering 
 on ecstasy to have her husband praise a meal or the 
 shining order of her house. Later came the greater 
 joy of fashioning tiny garments for the coming of a 
 little child, and when he came ! Ah ! but Ruth was a 
 happy woman. 
 
 59 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 She went to the mothers' meeting with a quivering 
 joy at her right to be there, and marveled at the 
 world-weary, saddened faces of some of the older 
 women, and, against her will, came memories of old 
 tales thronging up over the threshold of her conscious 
 happiness ; tales of the early days in Zion, when sor- 
 row and women walked hand in hand. Her own 
 mother had been a fifth wife, and, looking back, she 
 could not remember to have seen her smile. But youth 
 takes the sorrows of age for granted. Ruth believed 
 in the Doctrine and Covenant. She believed that the 
 revelation, regarding the plurality of wives, to have 
 come from God ; and a commandment was a command- 
 ment — she knew that. She loved her father and had 
 an affection for all his wives. She believed that the 
 president of the church was right to cleave unto the 
 five wives the Lord had given him, and to contend that 
 the law of God (as given to His seer and prophet) 
 was better to hold fast to than the law made by men 
 unguided by any light other than that which shone 
 about a political platform. She believed in the church 
 law rather than the land's law — but still — she fell in 
 step with old Sister Clausen when they came out of 
 meeting and asked breathlessly : ''Have you ever been 
 happy, Sister Clausen?" 
 
 Sister Clausen raised her whitish-brown cotton um- 
 brella as a shield against the too persistent spring sun- 
 shine and looked out from under its shadow at her 
 questioner with a ruminating light in her faded eyes. 
 
 "I d'know as 'twas meant fur us to be what you 
 call happy," she said slowly. 
 
 "But were you," the girl persisted, "when you were 
 young ?" 
 
 60 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 "That was a good time ago," the old lady hedged, 
 then added a trifle impatiently : "Cain't you be content 
 if you be happy yourself without worrin' about oth- 
 ers?" 
 
 Ruth sighed, *1 got to thinking about polygamy in 
 meeting," she said; "I was wondering how you stood 
 it, if you loved your husband as I love Wilse." 
 
 The old lady was silent until she reached and turned 
 into her own gate ; she spoke then as she fumbled with 
 the latch. "We loved our husbands," she said, ''and 
 
 we stood it, some of us did. But " she hesitated, 
 
 then added so low that the girl just caught the words, 
 "it was to our hearts like black frost would be to them 
 flowers," pointing to a bed of scarlet tulips, "it with- 
 ered them." She put down her umbrella and started 
 up the path, then turned and leaned over the fence 
 to whisper to the girl, "I hope Brother Wilson won't 
 be called to take no more." 
 
 "Oh! He won't— he can't," Ruth gasped, almost 
 running in her haste to get away. 
 
 She caught her baby up in her arms the moment 
 she reached home and looked deep in his vague, wide- 
 open eyes. She held him to her so passionately that 
 he cried out and she smothered his little face with 
 kisses. He was the visible bond between her husband 
 and herself. She could stand — she thought with a sob, 
 to have him love another woman — if — if God meant 
 that — but not — not to see or to know that he could fon- 
 dle another's child on his knee. She carried the baby out 
 on the porch, around which the vines were beginning 
 to show green, and looked through their tender foHage 
 to the hills, flushed in the glory of the sunset, and 
 to her fear-awakened soul it seemed as though the red 
 
 6i 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 glow was as from the stain of the blood of the women 
 martyred by a cruel, perverted law, and her soul sick- 
 ened with memories of the past and a new apprehen- 
 sion of the future. She saw her husband turn down 
 the street, but her feet felt weighted so that she could 
 not go to meet him. He came bounding up the steps 
 and caught the baby in his arms. 
 
 The baby screamed with delight and buried his tiny 
 fists in his hair. "Make him let go, Ruthie," he said 
 laughingly, ''and protect me from his onslaughts until 
 I can get in the house." 
 
 Ruth loosened the baby's hands, kissing each little 
 pink palm in a passion of love. "You won't ever love 
 another one like you do this?" she asked, forcing his 
 careless glance to her white face. 
 
 "Why— why I reckon I'd love 'em all the same," 
 he said. "I suppose the little shavers bring the love 
 with them." 
 
 "Would you," Ruth caught at his hand as he turned 
 to enter the house, "love him just the same if— if some 
 other woman was — was his mother ?" 
 
 ''Reckon so, if he was as cute as this fellow," he said, 
 holding out his hands to the baby, but his mother held 
 him close. "The worst of it is," she half-whispered, 
 "is the children." 
 
 "Huh!" he said carelessly, then added, "Seems to 
 me it's feeding-time ; where's supper ?" 
 
 "I haven't it cooked yet, Wilse," Ruth faltered, "I 
 —I went to mothers' meeting"— he smiled approval— 
 "and I don't know why, but I got to thinking about 
 Sister Clausen and Grandma Todd and a lot of the 
 women, and wondering that they all looked so, so — 
 well, sort of through with things, and then I got to 
 
 6.2 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 thinking about polygamy— I never thought of it so be- 
 fore — but — but it seems so cruel " she hesitated, 
 
 and laid one cheek against the baby's soft, feathery 
 hair. 
 
 A frown darkened her husband's face. 
 
 "You could better have been thinking of your soul's 
 salvation," he said in his mission voice, ''than pre- 
 suming to criticize (as I see you were) one of the 
 blessed commandments of the Father." 
 
 "But — Wilson, you don't believe in it — now ?" 
 
 "The will of the Father is the same, yesterday, to- 
 day, and forever," he said sententiously. 
 
 "Oh, Wilson," Ruth cried piteously, "you — you 
 couldn't marry again, say you couldn't !" 
 
 "Not unless it is the will of the Father. Look here, 
 Ruth, do you believe in the testimony of the golden 
 plates of Nephi?" 
 
 "Yes " 
 
 "You believe— know, that Joseph Smith was a 
 prophet of Almighty God ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You know that the Mormons are His chosen peo- 
 ple—we are the church who restored the scriptures to 
 a sinful world, and carry the torch to Hght the way to 
 salvation." 
 
 "Yes," Ruth said uncertainly. She was not think- 
 ing of what he said at all, but of how blue his eyes 
 were and how pretty his hair waved off of his still 
 boyish forehead, and wondering if one of those girls, 
 those rich convert girls from Australia, who had come 
 all of the long journey in his company, had noticed 
 them, too, and if — if 
 
 "Then," concluded her husband, a touch of impa- 
 
 63 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 tience in his voice, ''you must accept His law on all 
 matters. If polygamy was His divine command, and 
 was ever right, it is right now. No puerile law can 
 alter that." 
 
 "But do you believe it is right?" 
 
 "I know it !" A light of religious fanaticism kindled 
 in his eye. "All of our great leaders have been po- 
 lygamists — do you think they were wrong, when they 
 were allowed to talk face to face with our Lord?" 
 
 But Ruth was sobbing helplessly, wiping her eyes 
 on a bit of the baby's ruffled petticoat. 
 
 "You act," her husband said sternly, "as though I 
 had married again." 
 
 "But I am so afraid you will," the girl sobbed. 
 
 **Not unless God so ordains." 
 
 *'But He always ordains just what the men want," 
 she cried. 
 
 "Ruth," his tone was new to her, "put the baby 
 down and get supper, I must go to the councilors' 
 meeting." 
 
 Ruth put the baby in his carriage and tried to smile 
 in his wondering little face with her trembling lips, 
 then went into her little pantry, with all its bravery 
 of scalloped paper, and rosebud china, and shining 
 tinware. She took down the little teapot and looked at 
 it with streaming eyes. It was a symbol. "He — he 
 believes in it," she choked; "he can conceive of other 
 wives and babies — and — and — homes !" She put the 
 little pot back on its paper doily on the shelf, and went 
 about preparing supper, but the shrine was desecrated, 
 it was as a temple without a god, a hearth without a 
 fire, a body wherein the spirit of hope had gone and 
 the monster of fear had entered. She knew what had 
 
 64 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 given that look to the faces of the older women of 
 Zion, she remembered what she had promised and why 
 she had fainted in the temple. 
 
 As soon as her husband had started for the meet- 
 ing, she pinned a blanket under the baby's dimpled 
 chin, and started across the prairie to Grandma But- 
 ton's — Grandma knezu. 
 
 It was the night of the young people's ''Mutual," and 
 she met scores of them on their way to the meeting- 
 house. A group of girls stopped her and wanted to 
 look at the baby. She turned him around and made 
 a mouthing coo so that he would smile at them. 
 
 "Looks just like the Herricks," one of them said. 
 ^'Wilse's children are going to be like old man Her- 
 rick's — every one of his children looked just like him. 
 Sister Sarah used to say that it put her to it to tell 
 her young ones from Sister Jane's and Sister Lydy's. 
 They was all out-and-out Herricks." 
 
 Ruth put the baby over her shoulder. ''He favors 
 me," she said shortly. 
 
 "Well, you won't have no trouble to pick him out 
 from the rest, then," the girl laughed, and Ruth won- 
 dered that she never knew before how intensely she 
 hated her. 
 
 It was a warm, sultry evening, and the clouds over 
 the lake foreboded rain. The air was sweet with the 
 odor of growing things, and the damp, earthy smell 
 of the ground, not long released from its last covering 
 of snow. Birds twittered in the box-elder trees over 
 her head, she looked up in the branches and whispered 
 huskily: "They only choose one mate, and raise one 
 brood, and build one nest." 
 
 Grandma came out to the gate, screening her eyes 
 
 65 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 from the last rays of the setting sun. "Baby sick, 
 Ruth?" she called. "He cries like he mout be." 
 
 Ruth looked at the baby with dazed eyes. "I didn't 
 know he was crying," she said. "He must be hungry ; 
 I — I forgot to feed him." 
 
 The old lady took him, and gave him a professional 
 poke here and there. " 'Tain't him," she said, "it's 
 you ; what's happened ?" 
 
 Ruth moistened her dry lips. "Wilse believes in 
 polygamy," she whispered, as though all was said. 
 
 " 'Course he does," Grandma said succinctly, "ain't 
 he a dirty man?" 
 
 "Oh, Grandma," the girl protested, "Wilse is awful 
 good." 
 
 "Well, maybe so," the old lady agreed, without con- 
 viction. "Has he took another wife?" 
 
 "No — but oh. Grandma, I am so afraid he will," 
 Ruth sobbed. 
 
 The old lady made a clucking little sound, a mixture 
 of relief and disgust. 
 
 "Time enough to cry when he does," she said. 
 "Here, sit you down and nurse the baby, pore little 
 dear; he has et half this cracker a'ready, he is so 
 starved. I'll make you some tea, and then you and me 
 will talk." 
 
 The girl took the baby, and the very act of minister- 
 ing to his need calmed her. 
 
 "You have always lived in polygamy?" she asked 
 needlessly, for every one knew that Grandma was one 
 of a half-dozen wives. 
 
 "Mout's well say hell," she snapped, "but if polyg- 
 amy is a politer word fer it — I hev." 
 
 "Do you think God commanded it?" 
 66 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 ''Command fiddlesticks," she said irreverently. 
 
 ''But the men in the old testament " Ruth fal- 
 tered over the words, ''they had lots of wives, and " 
 
 ''Drunk blood out'n each other's skulls, an' et their 
 extra children ; but that ain't so sayin' as we should— ss 
 —I kin see," the old lady said testily. "Solomon had a 
 right smart number, I disremember how many, but I 
 know Brigham Young died before he near caught 
 up/' 
 
 ||Are you a doubter?" Ruth asked wonderingly. 
 
 "Not of the goodness of God, honey, but of some 
 of His servants. I think some of them git the name 
 ^f their employer mixed. Wa'n't no way out when I 
 Vas young, but for you " 
 
 "There has got to be a way," Ruth interrupted 
 eagerly. "I can't let Wilse marry again. I don't be- 
 lieve God ever meant that he should. I'd hate Him if 
 I did. Why, He made us, too. All creation ain't for 
 men's choosing. We have rights, too. But I can't 
 make Wilse see. And— and, I am so afraid that he 
 is going to have a revelation about one of those Aus- 
 tralian girls." 
 
 ^ "What makes you think so ?" Grandma asked, rin- 
 sing out her teapot preparatory to making a fresh 
 cup. 
 
 "I don't just know. It kind of came to me ; hints I 
 have heard and let pass, and to-day in mothers' meet- 
 ing, it came over me in a flash, and when Wilse came 
 home I couldn't get any satisfaction out of him— 
 he just threw up God's will to me." 
 
 Both were silent. Into Grandma's withered brown 
 cheeks crept a dim flush ; she twisted her lean old hands 
 in her lap, and set her toothless gums in a hard, 
 
 67 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 straight line. The hands on the dial of her life turned 
 back until they reached its morning. She had been a 
 first wife — and she knew. 
 
 "Waal," she said finally, "if it's God's will (which it 
 ain't) fer men to live with as many fool women as they 
 kin git, then it must be His will fer women to do the 
 same ; we come from the same source — so 'at the same 
 law must work." 
 
 ''Oh, Grandma!" Into the girl's eyes crept a look 
 of shrinking horror. 
 
 "I reckon Wilse would sing a dififerent tune if he 
 thought you was playin' the same game." 
 
 ''Grandma !" 
 
 "You hush," the old lady lisped, sternly. "Do you 
 want Wilse should marry again?" 
 
 "No! Oh, no!" 
 
 "Well, then leave it to me. You go out to Sister 
 Sidory's ranch first thing in the mornin'. Don't tell 
 Wilse where you are goin', but if he finds out where 
 you be, and phones out, say that you are hevin' a fine 
 time, 'cause that handsome young feller you went out 
 with when he was away on his mission, is stayin' out 
 there, an' " 
 
 "Oh, I can't!" 
 
 "Let him go ahead, then." 
 
 "No — no !" the cry was anguished. 
 
 "Then listen. You be sound asleep when he comes 
 to-night, an' soon as he leaves in the mornin' take all 
 your best things an' go out to your Aunt Sidory's. 
 Keep fixed up an' smiling every minit, an' if he comes, 
 or phones, be as bright as a cricket an' say as how you 
 air willin' as he should take another wife " 
 
 "Grandma!" 
 
 68 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 "Because you are in the notion of livin' with an- 
 other man " 
 
 "There ain't any other man. I never loved any one 
 but Wilse." 
 
 "Humph! I d'know as a man is so much that a 
 woman cain't make one up fer a special occasion." 
 
 "But maybe Wilse won't come," Ruth said, although 
 a daring light was beginning to shine in her usually 
 mild brown eyes. 
 
 "He'll come," Grandma affirmed, "I ain't lived nigh 
 on to eighty years 'out knowin' his sect." 
 
 * * * >k * * * 
 
 Wilson apprehended a scene when he reached home, 
 and was relieved to find his wife sleeping peacefully. 
 She seemed quite as usual the next morning, too. If 
 her cheeks were unusually pink and her eyes brighter 
 than their wont, he did not notice it ; he only thought, 
 as he kissed her good-by, how pretty she was. He 
 was sorry that she had felt so bad the night before; 
 he decided to take her some candy or a bunch of flow- 
 ers at noon. 
 
 He thought of her often during the forenoon, and 
 hurried somewhat on his way home to dinner. It was 
 Friday, the day Ruth always baked bread. He smiled 
 as he anticipated how she would have all of the fat 
 brown loaves spread out for him to admire. He ex- 
 pected to see the baby on the porch, in his carriage, it 
 was so warm ; but no — he must be asleep in the house. 
 He opened the door softly and stepped from the little 
 front room into the bedroom, and, seeing no one there, 
 hid foolishly behind the kitchen door, to jump out and 
 surprise them — they must be in the kitchen. But there 
 was no sound ; he peered out, cautiously, but saw noth- 
 
 69 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 ing save the empty room, aggressively silent. Ruth's 
 blue apron hung on a peg near the cupboard door, and 
 her sunbonnet was on its accustomed nail under the 
 clock shelf — she couldn't be in the garden. He called 
 to her, but his voice seemed to awaken echoes all over 
 the house, as though it were calling with him, or 
 mocking — ''Ruth, Ruth." Then the silence, falling 
 again, hurt him like a blow. He went into the bedroom 
 and began mechanically opening the drawers. He no- 
 ticed that her hat was gone; the hat she had worn 
 when they were first married. She wouldn't get a new 
 one this spring, she said she wanted to put the money 
 in the carriage for the baby ; he remembered her smile 
 as she said that every one would be so busy admiring 
 the baby that they wouldn't notice her hat. He shut 
 the drawer and went out in the kitchen again. He 
 walked around the room, looking ai each familiar ob- 
 ject: this was where she always sat to tend the baby; 
 there were the marks his carriage made on the floor; 
 there hung the dish-towels, the one for the white and 
 the one for the colored dishes, as Ruth called the pots 
 and pans. Over the paper woodbox hung a tiny gar- 
 ment of the baby's, and on the floor lay a little rubber 
 toy. He picked it up, and it squeaked horribly. He 
 started and called again ; then, his voice awaking only 
 the echoes, he buried his face in the folds of the blue 
 apron. Wilson had his revelation. 
 
 He put on his hat and hurried over to Grandma's. 
 She might be there. She wasn't, but Grandma knew 
 where she might be. Grandma knev/ so much. She 
 told him about that lovely young man, who, she 
 guessed, was out to Aunt Sidory's now, picture-making 
 or some such fancy work. She knew that he was awful 
 
 70 
 
A FIRST WIFE. 
 
 taken with Ruth— wanted to make picters after her, 
 as she recollected; Ruth might have made a mistake 
 throwing him over ; but then, she didn't know. Men 
 seemed to have authority from Almighty to take 
 more'n one wife, seemed about time that women was 
 getting a revelation that it was all right to live with 
 more than one man. Sort of seemed strange for a 
 woman to be contented with a dozenth part of a man 
 when the man— but Wilson had gone. 
 
 ******* 
 
 He got to Aunt Sidory's at dusk. He had almost 
 run over the dry, cacti-covered prairie to the ranch. 
 He had but one thought, to see Ruth and the baby. 
 Grandma was right. He hurried as he thought of the 
 picture man. He saw Ruth on the porch ; she looked 
 cool and pretty ; she had on a light dress, and something 
 red— a flower— in her light hair. She saw him and 
 smiled, and he caught her in his arms. 
 
 Ah ! Grandma knew ! For he promised all that she 
 had a right to ask, and for Ruth "the desert blossomed 
 as the rose." 
 
 71 
 
VII. 
 THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE. 
 
 It stood far up in the deep, shadowy canon of the 
 Wasatch Mountains. It was built of logs, rough-hewn 
 and massive. Its furniture was of the crudest, but 
 there was here and there a pathetic touch of attempted 
 decoration, which showed that a woman had dwelt 
 therein. On the ledge of the one barred window 
 stood a cracked cup holding a bunch of white, ethereal- 
 looking flowers that grew up close to the snow-line. 
 It was very silent. The woman who stood, straining 
 against the barred doorway, felt an oppression as if the 
 two sides of the caiion were closing up, shutting out 
 the light and air. 
 
 Presently she cried out, half in relief from the awful 
 loneliness, and half in instinctive terror of what the 
 approaching footsteps might foretell. 
 
 A man, dressed in the picturesque garb of the fron- 
 tiersman of forty years ago, advanced slowly along the 
 faintly marked trail, and stopped with an amazed 
 whistle when he saw the woman standing in the door- 
 way of the cabin. 
 
 "What — who on earth !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "A woman in hell !" The voice of the woman, de- 
 spite the rough tragedy of her words, had in it a cer- 
 tain appealing sweetness. The man drew near and 
 asked in a low voice: **What they got you shut up 
 for?" 
 
 72 
 
THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE, 
 
 "Because I kept running away. Yesterday I got 
 out and climbed clear up there," pointing back over 
 her shoulder to the white-crowned peak. ''I thought 
 I could get down on the other side, but they caught 
 me, and then they put these on." She touched the 
 heavy limbs that were nailed barwise across the door. 
 
 "What you done — gone off here?" he tapped his 
 forehead. 
 
 ''No; I am what you men call a stubborn female. I 
 have been trying to run away from Zion ever since 
 I found that the man I married had three other wives, 
 and that we was all nothing but the same as nigger 
 wenches — to slave for nothing. I got pretty near away 
 twice, and I guess they thought I'd get help from the 
 Gentiles, because the last time they brought me here. 
 I suppose you are one of the dogs they have sent to 
 see if I'm safe?" 
 
 "Me ! Do I look like one of them oily, sanctimoni- 
 ous, long-whiskered religious fakirs ? Think I hang my 
 hopes of glory on to their darned old gas balloon of 
 Mormonism — do I look it?" 
 
 ******* 
 
 His indignation seemed so genuine and his eyes so 
 honest, that, much as the woman had reason to suspect 
 treachery, she believed him. 
 
 "But how," she asked, "do you come to be here?" 
 "Happen-stance, pure and simple. I drive the stage. 
 The present road over the mountain is as steep and 
 slippery as the road out of the warm pond the Saints 
 tell us about. My pard is holdin' on to the seat, tryin' 
 to keep the bosses from sittin' back in his lap to-day, 
 while I'm prospectin' these here canons to see if there 
 is a way through. Understand ?" 
 
 73 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "Yes. Are you really a Gentile?" 
 
 "Sure pop. I'm one of them men that the 'Doctrine 
 and Cov'n't' mentions." He laughed a loud guffaw 
 that reechoed down the canon. ''Do you mind the reve- 
 lation young Joe got from Almighty? It goes like 
 this : '-'' * * an' the trump of God shall blow 
 loud and long and shall say to the sleeping nations : 
 ye saints arise an' live ; ye sinners stay an' sleep until 
 I come again.' (i8 verse, 43 section Doctrine and 
 Covenant.) If they was all as gol-blamed sleepy-head- 
 ed as I be, bet half of 'em rather stretch and turn over 
 an' go back to sleep. I swan, I'd choose the sinner's 
 half of the agreement." 
 
 "How do you know the Covenant if you are a Gen- 
 tile?" the woman asked, with reawakened suspicion. 
 
 "For my own edification. Besides, it's healthier for 
 me to pretend to the bloomin' saints that I'm open 
 to conviction. When your biz takes you in the prophet's 
 dooryard like mine does, it's policy to act like you may 
 go into the fold, see?" 
 
 "You wouldn't " The woman's eyes were so 
 
 wistful that the man was stung with sudden tears, and 
 he looked studiously at the copper toe of his heavy 
 riding-boot as she continued : "Help a woman to es- 
 cape?" 
 
 "Would if I dast," he said, after an embarrassed 
 silence. "I ain't posin' for a coward. I'll fight Injuns 
 with the next one, an' I reckon I know by the feel 
 which end of a gun to take holt of; but your saints 
 ain't no little thing for a man to buck up agin' — I'd 
 rather face a bloomin' torpedo-boat than one of them 
 Christian outfits if they're wrathful. Do you know 
 what they did to one man with a Sir Walter Raleigh 
 
 74 
 
THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE. 
 
 disposition, who was assistin' one of their discontented 
 females to escape? Hear about him? No; well, 
 they staked him down out on the desert— sun gets 
 sorter warmish out there, you know. Well, they 
 put food an' water where he could see 'em, but 
 just out of his reach, an' left him. He was 
 found before the buzzards (you mind your little 
 buzzard story in the marriage endowment cere- 
 mony) got holt of him, but, pshaw ! he was so locoed 
 that he wa'n't fit for nothin' but the monkey-house. 
 
 And the woman " 
 
 "What did they do to the woman?" Her face was 
 so white as she whispered the question that he said 
 hastily : "Oh, nothin', I reckon, but make her promise 
 to mind. I have heerd back East about people wantin' 
 the whole hog ; trouble with you Mormon women seems 
 to be that you want the whole man. Why ain't you 
 satisfied with your share?" 
 
 The woman looked at him, and he felt the red blood 
 rise in* his rough-tanned cheeks at her look. "Ain't 
 that, I know," he amended hastily. "Darned if I could, 
 I'd help you. Got anything to eat ?" 
 "Stale bread and water." 
 
 "Huh ! They could show the devil hisself some new 
 stunts in the disciplin' line." He half-turned away, 
 and the woman held out her hands in terror. 
 
 "Oh! stay— don't— don't leave me," she Implored. 
 "Just what you have said, just hearing your voice, has 
 helped me— here," she touched her forehead. "You 
 know, I thought I was going mad." 
 
 "Small wonder if you did," the man muttered. He 
 turned back with reluctance, for, as he said, he well 
 
 75 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 knew the issue of any misdirected gallantry in a case 
 like the present. 
 
 She read his thought. *'I know you are afraid, and 
 
 I don't blame you, but " the anguish in her tone 
 
 touched him. 
 
 'Til knock off some of the trimmin's on your door, 
 so as you can get out," he offered. 
 
 She shook her head, and said, in shamed confusion : 
 "I — I can't — it wouldn't help me, because — because 
 
 " she sobbed, "they took away my clothes. This 
 
 is just a bedquilt I wrapped around me." 
 
 'The devils!" the man muttered. He chewed the 
 ends of his long mustache. ''When are they comin' 
 back?" he asked. 
 
 "I don't know. Soon, I suppose; they will watch 
 me pretty close since I got away yesterday." 
 
 The man considered. "I can think better on a full 
 stomach," he said. 'T'll fix my snack." He moved a 
 few steps away. 
 
 "Don't go !" the woman shrieked. 
 
 "I won't. I'm goin' to find twigs enough to het up 
 some coffee. You an' me will drink it, an' then we'll 
 light on some plan for your getaway." 
 
 A light came into the woman's face, and her strained 
 expression settled into softer lines. He noticed for the 
 first time that she was pretty. 
 
 "Pore little heifer," he said softly. He knelt down 
 where she could see him, and, holding his broad hat 
 before the little heap of twigs, lighted them. 
 
 "I'll give you the water," the woman called. She 
 was afraid to trust him out of her sight while he went 
 to a near-by creek. He heard the soft patter of her 
 bare feet on the floor ; she came back to the door with 
 
 76 
 
THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE, 
 
 a small pail of water, which she poured with some 
 difficulty through the cracks between the bars, into the 
 can he held up. She talked to him while he waited 
 for the water to boil. 
 
 "I get so awful scared and lonesome I about give up 
 to go back," she said, ''but when I see them I hate them 
 so that I know I'd stand the fire of the stake sooner 
 than go back and live with him. All his wives hate 
 him; he is so mean. Mary died last week; she took 
 poison. We knew. Maybe we'd all 'a' took some, too, 
 if there had been any left. But her death was horrible 
 —horrible!" She covered her eyes with her hands; 
 then, remembering the lack of convention in her cos- 
 tume, took them down, and, blushing deeply, wrapped 
 the quilt more closely around her. 
 
 The man handed her a tin cup of strong coffee, and 
 a great slice of bread and meat, and sat down near 
 the door to eat his ovv^n ''snack." 
 
 With the warmth of the coffee, and the stimulus of 
 the food, which, despite her famished condition, she ate 
 with a certain daintiness, her spirits rose, as did the 
 man's courage. Twice during their strange repast she 
 laughed at some of his quaint tricks of expression. 
 
 "I wish that quilt wasn't so gol-blamed decollatay," 
 he said, "so you could skin out with me now. But as 
 it won't answer for a real bang-up travelin' costume, 
 I'll have to light out now an' scare up some female 
 apparel." 
 
 Her eyes widened again with terror. 
 
 "Don't you go to gettin' scairt," he said reassur- 
 ingly. "I'll get you out of this weasel trap to-night." 
 
 77 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "Oh, do, do!" the woman begged. ''Listen," she 
 lowered her voice to a whisper. ''He — he said that 
 here, in this room," looking shudderingly over her 
 shoulder toward a dim corner, piled full of rubbish, 
 "over there is the skeleton of a woman who ran away, 
 and he said they kept her here to warn — warn women 
 like me." The man peered through the bar. 
 
 "It's a dirty lie," he said, the while his face whitened 
 at — was it ? It might have been a trick of the shadows, 
 but it looked like something that might once have been 
 a woman's hand. 
 
 "I'll get you out of this hell-trap," he promised. He 
 took her trembling little hands and pressed them kind- 
 ly, then strode off down the caiion. 
 
 Left alone, the woman pressed close against the bars 
 in the doorway. She believed the man would come 
 back, yet — if he should not, if even then some of her 
 enemies were coming and should see him, and suspect 
 his purpose. She was sure afraid. For the first time 
 since her incarceration, she glanced over in the dark- 
 ened corner. It seemed to her that she saw what the 
 man had thought he had seen. 
 
 "Oh, in Christ's name !" she gasped, "can such things 
 be? Yet they are done in His name and under the 
 cloak of religion. Religion ! Oh, the sin and the 
 shame of it!" She sank to her knees and lifted her 
 voice in prayer. The words echoed up the walls of the 
 canon, and perchance, who can tell ? may have reached 
 even above the white tops of the mountains, on through 
 the blue into the light beyond. 
 
 "God," she prayed, "if Thou wilt help me to escape, 
 if Thou wilt let me out of this," she shook the bars of 
 her prison, "and let me reach safety in a Christian land, 
 
 78 
 
THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE. 
 
 I will never, never rest from doing all I can to bring 
 justice to the outraged women of this wicked, wicked 
 system. Amen !" 
 She kept her word. 
 
 She watched the afternoon shadows lengthen, lis- 
 tened to the twilight calls of the birds, strained her 
 eyes for a sight and her ears for a sound of some one 
 approaching. Hope and fear struggled together as 
 darkness stole down the canon. 
 
 At last, when it seemed she could no longer endure 
 the waiting, she heard hurried footsteps, and the man 
 who was her promised rescuer came running up to 
 the door. 
 
 'They are after me," he panted, "the " A few 
 
 forceful blows broke down a couple of the bars. "Don't 
 wait for anything. I've got some fixin's for you in 
 the stage. My pard is waitin' with it down the canon. 
 Oh, damn !" he exclaimed, "you are barefoot. But you 
 can't stop — I hear them now ! Skin ! Run on ahead I 
 Straight down the caiion." 
 
 The woman needed no second bidding. She ran like 
 a startled deer. The man followed, his spurs clattering 
 as he ran. He had his revolver cocked in his hand. 
 
 The saints, several of them, were racing after them 
 down the hillside. Some of the language they called 
 after them did not sound as though it had been selected 
 for, and recommended to, them in a revelation. They 
 ordered them to stop in the name of all Authority, and 
 under penalty of some of the most blood-curdling 
 threats. As soon as they were close enough they be- 
 gan to fire. A bullet tore its way through a corner of 
 
 79 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the quilt, which was flapping around the woman as she 
 ran. One stung like a hornet in the man's shoulder, 
 but he didn't pause, not even to discharge his own 
 weapon, until, panting and breathless, they reached the 
 stage. He hid the woman in the ''boot," sprang to the 
 seat, and whipped up the horses. This moment's pause 
 gave their pursuers time to come almost abreast of the 
 stage. The man turned in his seat and emptied his 
 revolver at the group. He got a number of bullets 
 through his hat, which he now keeps carefully put away 
 in an old leather baggage boot that had once carried 
 precious freight across the desert. 
 
 Sometimes he will take it out and tell its story. He 
 will explain that the stiffness in his shoulder is not due 
 to rheumatism, and he will finish his story, after he 
 has lit his pipe and leaned back in his wide, easy chair, 
 by saying: *Tt was a close shave, but," as he peers 
 out into the kitchen, where a white-haired old lady 
 moves cheerfully about, *T'll be gol-blamed if it wasn't 
 worth it!" 
 
 80 
 
VIII. 
 WHEN CELIA RANG THE BELL. 
 
 Celia Lennox was a pretty, wistful-eyed girl, senti- 
 mentally religious by nature. When, as a child, she 
 had watched the sun sinking in a bed of purple and 
 gold, and caught the glory of its reflection on the 
 mountain peaks, she had fancied that it foretold the 
 opening of the gates of heaven, and the reflection was 
 like unto that which would transform the faces of the 
 faithful who dared to meet the King. Celia thought 
 that she longed for that day more than any other, and 
 would fairly burst her slender throat singing, *'I am 
 waiting, only waiting, for the blessed day to dawn," 
 and thought that she meant it until she got acquainted 
 with Ross Cranford. After that she knew that this 
 world was good enough for her, so long as it held him. 
 
 It has been said of old that the course of true love 
 never yet ran smooth, and when that love is between 
 a Gentile youth and a Mormon maid many and treach- 
 erous are the rapids, and deep and unexpected the sink- 
 holes. 
 
 This was before the reign of any law other than the 
 church was more than a fevered dream of the night. 
 The religious zeal of Celia and her father and mother, 
 and her five "aunties" was so well known, that her 
 clandestine intimacy with the young hound of a Gentile 
 had been going on for some time before the sleuth of 
 
 8i 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the ward, the bishop, found it out and reported it to 
 her father, who, aside from dividing the solace of his 
 presence among six exacting, hard-working wives, was 
 the bishop's first counselor. 
 
 The father was astounded, and admitted, when 
 brought up standing before the very image of his 
 guilt, that he had been remiss in not disposing of his 
 daughter Celia in marriage before. It was quite true 
 that Celia was past sixteen, and might already have 
 added at least a branch to the spreading tree whose 
 shade was to shut out the sun of reason and of truth, 
 and whose poisoned roots were to sap the strength 
 from the growth of religious freedom and take away 
 the shelter of the country's law. 
 
 But Celia had been a good girl at home; when her 
 mother was not there she had ministered to his wants. 
 She could make delicious milk biscuits, and get a meal 
 in such short order as to please her father. Then, 
 too, she kept the younger children washed, and darned, 
 and polite. In fact, the family which had Celia was 
 clearly his favorite, and more because of the cheerful 
 efficiency of the daughter than of any superior attrac- 
 tions of the mother. Twice had he frowned on two 
 would-be suitors from the sheep of the fold, only to 
 find that his favorite daughter was "going on" with a 
 goat. True, and true it is, that many of the saints 
 were sore afflicted by the unwelcome invasion of the 
 Gentiles into their sanctified land. 
 
 Something must be done, and at once. While his 
 counselor had been talking of the virtues of his comely 
 daughter, the mouth of the bishop had been fairly 
 
 82 
 
WHEN CELIA RANG THE BELL. 
 
 watering. He had a revelation right then and there 
 that God desired him to take another wife, and decided 
 that that wife better be Ceha. 
 
 Now in those days a Mormon took another wife as 
 easily and with as little expenditure of energy as an 
 ordinary man would use in changing from his winter 
 to his summer underwear. In the latter case, he looks 
 meditatively at the sky, reads the weather forecast, con- 
 sults the calendar, and it's done ; in the former he has 
 a revelation from Almighty, selects the woman, and 
 marries her, willy-nilly. Before erasing our figures 
 from the slate, we will use it further to show that while 
 it may turn cold and frost this June, whereas it was 
 warm and pleasant last June, so may this revelation 
 prove troublous in fulfilling^ whereas the last several 
 wives were led as meekly to the temple as are the lambs 
 to the slaughter. 
 
 Celia, devout and tractable as a Christian, efficient 
 and cheerful as a housekeeper, well-favored and per- 
 fectly modeled as a woman, was still stubborn and 
 hateful past belief in view of this revelation of the 
 bishop's. While believing absolutely in the testimony 
 of the golden plates of Nephi, and doubting not that 
 the sainted Joe talked as intimately, with as little re- 
 serve of fact as you would use in talking to the tax 
 collector, she doubted that the bishop's revelation had 
 come from the Lord. She was almost blasphemous in 
 her language. She said that the bishop had more wives 
 now than was allowed by the Covenant, and that she 
 would die sooner than be sealed to him ; besides, she 
 said, he was as old as the hills and as ugly as time, and 
 
 83 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 she hated him. While she knew much better than to 
 say so, even as she would storm at the bishop, her eyes 
 would soften and she would cuddle the hand that had 
 lain in the boy's rough palm against her soft, pink 
 cheek, and say in her heart that she loved another even 
 as she hated the bishop, and because her heart taught 
 her she knew that no such evil thing could come from 
 a pure God, and she defied them with as little fear as 
 success. For she was married to the bishop. 
 
 This is a chapter in the life of Celia which was hard 
 to live and is hard to write about. The night before 
 the bishop had had his revelation she had gone to bed 
 with the sweet, innocent dreams of a child ; a fortnight 
 later she was a woman, from whom the shield of youth 
 had been ruthlessly torn and whose ideals had been 
 broken and thrown at her feet. She was like the bud 
 of a flower whose protecting leaves had been forced 
 open by rude hands that cruel eyes might look into its 
 guarded heart. Oh ! life was hard for Celia, as for 
 many another fair girl whose spirit was broken on the 
 wheel of that atrocious dogmatism. So white and wan 
 did she look the day after the ceremony in the temple 
 that her father sought the groom with a troubled brow. 
 "Give her a little leeway, bishop," he said. "She is 
 young and headstrong. Be patient." 
 
 But the bishop shook his head. "I've tried both 
 ways," he said, "and I find it saves bother to show 
 your authority first out. The sooner a woman learns 
 that her v/hims are useless, the sooner she quits having 
 them. Your girl is pouting over that young Gentile 
 whelp, and if she don't step he'll leave Zion." 
 
 84 
 
WHEN CELIA RANG THE BELL. 
 
 And with this the father had to acquiesce, albeit that 
 the blood pump in his body, which in another man 
 would have been a heart, felt somewhat heavy when 
 he bade the girl good-by. 
 
 To outward seeming Celia was soon subdued, but 
 even '*as a hart panteth after the water brooks," so did 
 this child yearn for the sound of the boy's eager voice, 
 the touch of his strong young hand, and the glance 
 of his honest blue eyes. As for the lad, the sun of 
 his life had gone down when the girl was married to 
 the bishop. He decided, as boys of twenty sometimes 
 will, to spend what remained of his white young life 
 sacred to the memory of the girl he loved. He went 
 often to the cafion and brooded over the places they 
 had been together. One day, sitting with his boyish 
 head bowed on a flat white rock that Celia had once 
 called her center-table, he was roused by a touch on 
 his shoulder, slight and hesitant, as if a bird had lit 
 thereon. Looking up he saw Celia. Near as she was 
 to him physically, so great a change had the last few 
 weeks made in her that spiritually she seemed farther 
 from him than she had ever been before. He looked 
 at her in bewilderment ; then, noting the hollows in her 
 cheeks, and the dark rings under her eyes, a wave of 
 pity for her surged over him, and he held out his 
 hand to her and asked: "Is he mean to you, Celie?'' 
 
 "He says he is good to me,'' she answered, with a 
 hard little laugh. "He hasn't hit me yet, and he does 
 Bertha." 
 
 "Hit you?" the boy gasped. "Oh, Celie, I— I can't 
 stand that. I can't. Listen to me. I have got pa to 
 
 85 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 buy that piece of land next the bishop ; we will move 
 out next week, and then I'll keep watch of the house, 
 and if he should be — be mean to you" — he stopped and 
 knit his brows in thought, then added presently — 'I'll 
 get a bell and hide it under your well-curb to-night; 
 you get it in the morning and keep it by you ; you can 
 stuff something in the clapper and carry it in your 
 pocket; then if you need me, ring it, and I'll come. 
 Promise." 
 
 The girl promised, but without hope. "You couldn't 
 help me," she said tearfully. 
 
 "Yes, I could. Keep your promise, and I'll hear 
 the bell." 
 
 The girl promised again, and the next morning she 
 
 pressed a little bell to her lips, but she didn't ring it, 
 
 although — but we said before that some things are hard 
 
 to write. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The Gentiles moved on to the land, but were directly 
 served with a notice, headed by the sixth and seventh 
 verses from the fourteenth chapter of the Book of 
 Revelation, and written underneath a clumsily worded 
 order to vacate the property by the command of and 
 at the price offered by the church, or beware the wrath 
 of the "Avenging Angel." Now, the avenging angel is 
 so apt to take on earthly form and ammunition in ar- 
 gument that it is much better, if you get a notice of this 
 sort, to yield at once, else you see It avenged. So in 
 those days it was best to give the "angel" whatever 
 some avaricious old Mormon wanted, first as last. But 
 these Gentiles refused to do this, and sent to Washing- 
 ton for authority to keep what they had bought. That 
 was at the time that scandal was beginning to come 
 
 86 
 
WHEN CELIA RANG THE BELL. 
 
 thick and fast in Zion, and the saints withdrew their 
 ''claim" to the property, having found that there is 
 more than one way. 
 
 The Gentiles did not move, neither did they prosper. 
 The family would have been glad to have gone had 
 Ross, who was their main support, allowed them to do 
 so. He would not leave Utah, or, as years went on, the 
 place, except in cases of real necessity. He stayed al- 
 ways near enough so that he could hear the tinkle of 
 a bell. His parents died, and his brothers and sisters 
 married and moved away, but he still stayed on. On 
 the other side of the high board fence was a woman, 
 pale and sad-eyed, who might one day need him, and 
 he waited for her summons. 
 
 As years passed, Progress found her way over the 
 mountains and across the desert, and in her wake came 
 a gleam of hope for the women of Zion. Of course, 
 there were many of those who did not know that she 
 had come — among these was Celia — but the bishop 
 knew, and the knowledge that what they had most 
 feared was about to come upon them, and the new fear 
 of the law, made him more hard and cruel to his wives 
 and children. 
 
 ******* 
 
 It clearly behooved every daughter of Zion to put 
 forth every effort to increase the Mormon population, 
 and the bishop, after an impassioned speech in meeting, 
 in which he urged that every mother's daughter over 
 the age of fourteen be given at once into wedlock,* 
 was reminded forcibly that he had a daughter of his 
 
 ♦Actual utterance by a bishop in Salt Lake Tabernacle 
 last November. 
 
 87 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 own, by his wife Celia, who was past that age and still 
 single. Celia's daughter looked much as her mother 
 had done at her age, and, much as her father had done 
 on the former occasion, another noble old man offered 
 to take her to wife. The bishop went with him to 
 Celia's home, and arbitrarily ordered his daughter to 
 make ready to marry him. The girl, trembling with 
 fear, ran to her mother. "Oh, mama," she sobbed. 
 ''Don't let them take me. I — I hate him." 
 
 Celia looked at the bishop. "Are you going to insist 
 on this ?" she asked very quietly. The bishop nodded 
 emphatically. Then, suddenly, they were startled by 
 the loud ringing of a bell, which Celia held aloft in 
 her hand. No one knew where she had gotten it or 
 why she was ringing it, and before they had time to 
 ask, or before its last vibration had died away, the 
 door burst open and a man stood before them. He had 
 lived next door to them for years, but the bishop did 
 not know him. He was near-sighted and half-fright- 
 ened out of his wits, and he thought that it was the 
 law at last, and, fast as his shaking old legs would carry 
 him he ran, followed by the would-be bridegroom, out 
 of the house, out of the yard, on and on, and was not 
 seen for many a day. They hid — but if you wonder 
 where or how, ask some one who knows what is under- 
 neath the temple at Logan. 
 
 88 
 
IX. 
 
 THE SINS OF THE FATHER. 
 
 I, the Lord, thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the 
 iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third and 
 fourth generations of them that hate Me.— Exod. v. 20. 
 
 Therefore, cease from all your light speeches; from all 
 your laughter; from all your lustful desires; from all your 
 pride and lightmindedness; from all your wicked doings.— 
 Sec. 28, verse 121, Doctrine and Covenants. 
 
 But I have commanded you to bring up your children in 
 light and truth.— Sec. 93, verse 40, Doctrine and Covenants. 
 
 Now, behold, the nobleman, the lord of the vineyard, called 
 upon his servants and said unto them: "Why! what is the 
 cause of this great evil?"— Sec. 121, verse 52, Doctrine and 
 Covenants. 
 
 Dearly beloved, we are together to talk of a grave 
 subject ; we are going to talk about the coming genera- 
 tion of citizens in the State of Utah. We are going 
 to consider the children who go to our schools, who 
 are on our streets, the children whom we see in our 
 public parks, the children whom we hear in our juve- 
 nile courts ; and we are going to ask what are the con- 
 ditions of these children's lives, where they were born, 
 and in what environment have they lived that they 
 should bring the red blush of shame to our faces. 
 What of these children? 
 
 A zealous, long-whiskered elder called at our house 
 one day with a book called 'The Defense of the Faith." 
 
 89 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 We asked him why the faith needed defending, and he 
 answered, ''Because of the prevaiHng prejudice against 
 polygamy." 
 
 "Does that need defending?" we asked. He consid- 
 ered, and aimed, with the accuracy of long practise, at 
 the cuspidor before he replied : "Well — er — the funda- 
 mental argument in favor of polygamy is that it brings 
 purer children into the world." 
 
 *'And are the children of these plural wives more 
 pure?" we asked, in a tell-me-more-about-God-Uncle- 
 Tom voice. 
 
 To the credit of humanity and the book agent, the 
 elder shifted his ground, and, instead of replying, 
 brought forth another argument. "Well, you see," he 
 began, *'in the early days when we were led by the 
 Spirit across the desert, and after many hardships and 
 dangers reached the garden, we were threatened with 
 massacre by the Indians." 
 
 "Wasn't there a massacre at Mountain Meadows?" 
 we asked, still in our little-Eva voice. But again the 
 good man disregarded the rising inflection in our tone, 
 and continued: "As I was saying, there were so 
 many Indians and so few saints that it was so — er — 
 difficult to induce immigrants to come here " 
 
 "Was the — er — experience at Mountain Meadows 
 calculated to induce them to undertake the perils of the 
 trip for a like reception?" we asked, as one seeking 
 light. 
 
 "It was so hard to get people enough together for 
 self-defense," the elder went on, and we discovered 
 that he was quite deaf in his Mountain Meadows ear. 
 "It was necessary for us to propagate ourselves for 
 our own protection against the Indians." 
 
 90 
 

 ^. 
 
 
THE SINS OF THE FATHER. 
 
 "You mean," we asked, ''that you brought the chil- 
 dren into the world to protect you from the Indians ?" 
 
 'That was one reason," he answered. 
 
 We figured mentally. It takes three-fourths of a 
 year before a child is ready to claim its soul. We 
 usually allow it a year in which to cut its front teeth 
 and take its first wabbly, little steps ; sometimes we 
 have to allow even a month or two more to do this. 
 Then it takes a little more time for it to clothe its 
 thoughts with speech, and even after we substitute a 
 string of spools for the rattlebox it takes some time 
 for the muscles to harden sufficiently for a real effective 
 use of the hatchet. It even takes some muscle to cock 
 a gun. So figure as we would we could see that even 
 with the most forward it would not be possible for 
 the children to protect their parents under several 
 years. Then suppose they should all have the measles 
 at once ! It certainly looked bad for the saints. 
 
 "But," we voiced our deductions, "weren't you afraid 
 that the Indians would get tired resting on their toma- 
 hawks and come in and whet them on some of the 
 elders before the children would be old enough to de- 
 fend them?" 
 
 But even here the elder did not quite clear up the 
 cloud of our ignorance by the sun of his wisdom. He 
 only said that we could only trust in God and intimated 
 that there was still a warmer place than Utah for those 
 who had flaunted at religion. We felt bad because we 
 had not flaunted ; we had only inquired. Maybe it is 
 logical to propagate for your own protection, but what 
 of the children ? 
 
 ***** S|t 5> 
 
 91 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 We are going to tell you a little story. , Perhaps we 
 didn't "make it up" ; we don't believe it is original, we 
 think it was told us long, long ago; it may be you 
 have heard it or dreamed it some day when you have 
 perchance been alone in the foothills or by the river 
 or in the forest where you have heard the song of 
 some golden-throated bird singing to his mate. 
 Maybe you remembered it some morning when you 
 lifted up your eyes to the hills or above them to where 
 the heavens declare the glory of God. Maybe it came 
 to you in a strain of music, but we believe that you 
 have heard it or dreamed it, the story of a man and 
 a woman ; the story of the foundation of a home ; the 
 story of little children being born with a heritage of 
 honor, being taught the principle of right living, the 
 sacredness of truth, and the sanctity of moral law. In 
 that story we have heard or dreamed of mutual honor 
 and respect. We know of a book that teaches children 
 to honor their father and mother ; we know of a book 
 that tells parents to provoke not their children to wrath. 
 And we are going to inquire how we can follow these 
 two teachings either if we are polygamous parents or 
 children, or if we can follow them and believe in that 
 little story. 
 
 Suppose your father was the father of the children 
 of five other wives, would you honor him? Suppose 
 your mother was the mistress of five other men, would 
 you honor her ? Suppose your father had, say, twenty, 
 or thirty, or forty other children to claim the protection 
 of his parenthood, wouldn't it provoke you to wrath? 
 What of these children? Do you think it makes purer 
 children to defy the very first principles of right liv- 
 ing? Does it make a child purer to send him out on 
 
 92 
 
THE SINS OF THE FATHER. 
 
 the streets to sell papers as soon as he can fairly walk, 
 because his father has so many wives and the wives 
 have so many children that there is not bread for him 
 to eat unless he helps earn it ? Does it make him purer 
 to be taught that he must not tell the truth about some 
 things, and, in case he is asked, he must lie about his 
 parents? Does that make him pure? Does it make 
 him pure to go to meeting and hear one thing taught, 
 and go home and see another thing practised? Does 
 it make him pure to hear the jealousies, the back-bi- 
 tings, and the rivalries between his mother and the 
 other wives of his father ; between his mother's children 
 and theirs? You ask me if there are these jealousies, 
 and I ask you if these wives are not women ? You ask 
 me if there is this deceit, and I ask you what the presi- 
 dent of the church told the government and what he 
 told his own people when he returned home ? You ask 
 me if they teach one thing and practise another, and I 
 ask you to hear their sermons and investigate their 
 lives. What of these children? 
 
 Do you know that in Salt Lake City there are houses 
 with secret rooms, with sealed doors in the walls, with 
 trap-doors in the floors, which, when you open them, 
 reveal a flight of steps which descend to an underground 
 apartment? I can give you the street and number of 
 such houses. Why were they built and what of the 
 children that are born in such houses? Do you know 
 what language some of these children use on the public 
 school grounds ? Have you ever thought of the future 
 of the boys and girls who at twelve and eleven, even 
 at seven and six, have a repertoire of foul language, of 
 
 93 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 obscene, perverted knowledge, who lie as the sparks fly 
 upward? What of these children and of their State 
 and their country? Whose fault is it, and for whose 
 sins are they suffering? 
 
 We asked one sad-eyed, stoop-shouldered old Mor- 
 mon woman, who, after having borne a dozen chil- 
 dren, was earning her bread by washing, what she 
 thought of polygamy. She wiped the suds off her 
 hands and the sweat out of her eyes before she re- 
 plied slowly, as though weighing every word : ''Well, 
 I suppose it has to be. You see, there are seven women 
 in the world to where there is one man, and, you see, 
 heaven ain't open to a woman if she is barren, so, of 
 course, God meant every woman to have children, be- 
 cause so many women would be lost if the men didn't 
 live with more than one." 
 
 "Do you think that is true ?" we asked. 
 
 *'Why, ain't it?" she asked, as astonished as though 
 we had told her the stars had fallen. 
 
 "No," we said, "it's a lie." 
 
 "But" — she plaited her apron and knitted her brow 
 in bewilderment — "it must be true because science 
 says so, and — and God said so, too." 
 
 "Who told you so?" we demanded. 
 
 "Bishop," she replied. And so long as bishop can 
 make them believe his interpretation of science and of 
 God so long will he have a halter around the necks of 
 the women of his ward. As for the men — the bishop's 
 teaching takes away the curb of decency and makes a 
 virtue of licentiousness. 
 
 94 
 
THE SINS OF THE FATHER. 
 
 A woman in our ward fell ill last winter, and it came 
 to the ears of her neighbors that she and her children 
 were without food or fuel. We took some of our 
 Saturday baking and went over to see her. She was 
 in bed in a room destitute of comfort or order. Four 
 little children, the eldest a boy of eight, and the young- 
 est a baby of two years of age, were huddled around 
 a rusted stove in which smoked and smoldered a 
 meager fire of damp sticks, which was the only anti- 
 dote to the chill of the desolate adobe shack. The 
 children were ragged and dirty past belief, and, judg- 
 ing from the aviditv with which they devoured the 
 food we set on the table, were half-starved. There was 
 an older girl, a hollow-eyed, tubercular child of four- 
 teen, who was out working for a living until she had 
 fallen ill several weeks before. We asked her where 
 the children's father was, and she told us that he had 
 gone on a mission. She went on to say that she and 
 her brother were to send him $5 a month. The brother 
 had been out of work all winter, and, what with the 
 tithing and sending the money to her husband, and 
 the slow pay and small washings of some of her cus- 
 tomers, she had not been able to save any money. Some 
 women are so shockingly extravagant! 
 
 She made a pretense of religious fervor, and said, 
 with a sanctimonious whine, that Christ was sufficient 
 for her. We looked at the children, all of whom, in- 
 cluding the baby, were Rawing" into the lemon pie 
 which one of the neighbors had contributed. We took 
 note of their hungry, chalky faces, their crafty shift- 
 ing eyes, and cried out in the bitterness of our heartsj 
 "He is not sufficient to feed and clothe your children. 
 
 95 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 ''Oh, well," she said easily, "they'll soon be out from 
 under foot." What of them then ? 
 
 Is there anywhere under the vault of heaven more 
 need of missionaries than in the State of Utah? Are 
 there any vines in the vineyard of the Lord more filled 
 with poisoned branches than are on this prolific tree 
 of Mormonism? Who needs the teaching of Christ 
 more than the children of this alleged religion? Who 
 needs saving if not the children whose pre-natal in- 
 fluence was of oppression, licentiousness, and perverted 
 law? The black sins of the fathers of polygamy are 
 being visited upon the children, upon the State, and 
 upon the country, verily unto the third and fourth gen- 
 eration. Confronted with this problem, we can only 
 bow our heads and say humbly : ''Lead, kindly light," 
 away from the "cause of this great evil." Let us pray 
 for the children of Utah. 
 
 96 
 
X. 
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST. 
 
 Moreover the Lord thy God will send the hornet among 
 them, until they that are left and hide themselves from thee, 
 be destroyed. — Deut. xx. 7. 
 
 I have not written any little idyls of Mormon life 
 and love for two weeks, and I'll tell you why : I have 
 been horribly frightened; I actually thought that I 
 would get the death endowment, and that the only way 
 in which I could communicate with the Mormons would 
 be the unsatisfactory one of tipping the table or "rap- 
 ping" on some elder's bald spot. I have had grave 
 reason to doubt that I would be allowed in the garden 
 until the last day, and it looked like I might go as chaff 
 at any time, and all because of these same little idyls. 
 In fact, one good Christian lady did intimate that, had 
 I so presumed to meddle with the holy of holies a few 
 years ago — well, I wouldn't of dast, that's all. I came 
 up against a regular head-on collision ; it seems that 
 every last thing I had told was like unto a shoe, which 
 pinched some sainted foot, and that it was all laid up 
 agin' me. I have waited as long as I dared for a reve- 
 lation in the matter, but as nothing has revelated so 
 far, I have decided to act on my own accord and make 
 such retractions and amends as seem to be necessary. 
 
 Speaking of revelations, you know how the bishop 
 does over at Huntsville? Well, he waits and keeps 
 
 97 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the town waiting until he gets a revelation from Al- 
 mighty to see if it is right to mend the hole in the 
 sidewalk before it breaks any more legs, or whether 
 they had better put the money it would take into im- 
 proving the meeting-house. As nearly as one can 
 judge, the town is always on the qui vive for a revela- 
 tion as to what it should do, and, in the meantime, 
 trims its nails, and whittles, and kills time as best it 
 can, until the bishop throws some light on the divine 
 will as to what they should busy themselves at. Some 
 people seem to think that this is detrimental to the 
 town, but it seems to me that if these people really 
 believed that these revelations were due from the Al- 
 mighty Power, really, truly, that they would not laugh 
 or fret at their delay. I doubt that they do, just as I 
 doubt that they believe that Christ is coming in a few 
 short years. If it should be true, and if the stone one 
 of the saints stumbled over in the center of the earth 
 does mean the fulfilment of a prophecy, and that the 
 days before the day of judgment are numbered, are 
 the saints all ready for a short-notice ascension? I 
 am afraid that some of them are figuring on Christ 
 wearing blinders when He does come, but I promised to 
 retract, didn't I? 
 
 I can't say that any of the statements made in my 
 ofifending article are not true ; they are all from actual, 
 every-day ''garden of Eden" life, and as I made solemn 
 covenant with the editor to do, I have verified every 
 statement before publishing it as a fact, but since by 
 so writing I have lacerated the feelings of a number of 
 good people, I will gladly make what changes I can ; 
 turn out the green and put on the rose lights, so to 
 speak. 
 
 98 
 
THE HORNETS NEST. 
 
 I felt, in the beginning, that since the church pub- 
 licly denounced polygamy and discountenanced its prac- 
 tise — since the manifesto (which, by the way, seems 
 to be a movable feast) that as an organization it would 
 be grateful to me for sort of hunting up these people 
 and calling attention to the fact that its president was 
 betraying their trust. You see, I thought that maybe 
 they were so busy collecting the tithing and one thing 
 and another that they would be glad to have me do it, 
 but they don't seem to be : they all seem to want to 
 leave the black covering over that little issue undis- 
 turbed. Besides, whose business is it, anyway? I 
 should have been more modest, too, than to have al- 
 luded to some things, because by so doing I have 
 shocked some of the older saints who are not accus- 
 tomed to living with more than a dozen wives at once, 
 and think it isn't nice to speak of some subjects. St. 
 Paul said something about women keeping silent, and 
 the idea sorter clings to some of these latter-day 
 prophets. 
 
 Since coming to Utah I have met some splendid peo- 
 ple who are Mormons. I am proud to count some of 
 these as my friends ; among them are sincere, earnest, 
 Christian men and women, who to know is to respect 
 and love. These articles are not in any way concerned 
 with these people, who should, if they cared to 
 investigate the truth, which they could almost read as 
 they run, about some of the earthly practises of the 
 divine (so-called) law, cooperate with me in bringing 
 to the light those things of which they cannot but dis- 
 approve. 
 
 Now, about some of those promised retractions : The 
 elder did not wear his beard for a shirt-front, or grow 
 
 99 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 it to use as a cuspidor ; he wears it for an ornament, 
 but since, like the poor, it is always with him, and a 
 cuspidor isn't (while the need for one is), well, the 
 beard is more in the nature of a catch-all — so I will 
 take that back. 
 
 About that woman who took poison : I cannot re- 
 tract the statement that she took it, because she did, 
 but it may be that she liked poison, and took it for 
 that reason, instead of the one inferred — because her 
 husband had a faculty of bringing home other wives, 
 now and again. 
 
 Then, too, I was severely called down for mention- 
 ing that godless old Gentile who had his ears cut off 
 by the saints. I can't say that he didn't have his ears 
 trimmed, because, you see, they show it so plain ; but, 
 then, it may be that he didn't really need ears, any- 
 way. 
 
 Again, I offended the woman whose husband was on 
 a mission to Australia. She said her children never 
 pawed no pie, and so I must correct that. They might 
 not have been so hungry, it might have been curiosity 
 to see what a pie would look like. Now that she is 
 well and able to wash again, and make money, she says 
 that Christ ain't sufficient for all her needs. Anyway, 
 she is mad at me, and sent back all my jelly glasses, 
 as much as to say that it is all off between us. 
 
 That story about Sylvia and grandma. Now, the 
 girl's name isn't Sylvia at all, but she did come from 
 Australia, and, bless your heart, if every one didn't 
 seem to know about it before I told them ! And they 
 say that I hadn't ought to have put it in print ; it isn't 
 a nice story, not good reading for young girls. I own 
 
 lOO 
 
THE HORNETS NEST. 
 
 right up that it is not, but if only one girl read it and 
 was made a little more wise thereby, then I am glad 
 it was told, and printed. I can't retract any of that, 
 excepting that the bishop provided for her— he did, a 
 little while— but she is now working for her own and 
 her little child's board and $8 a month. 
 
 But nothing, in all that I have written, seems to have 
 offended so many people and to have fitted so many 
 feet as the little tale called the "Sins of the Father." 
 I got that name from the Bible, too. Sad as it makes 
 me feel to say so, I can't amend any statement made 
 therein I have tried it from different viewpoints, and 
 studied the matter under different lights, but I cannot 
 make any difference in the blackness of the situation. 
 I cannot see it in any light but sinful, wicked, abhor- 
 rent. ^ . r J 
 
 I had occasion to hire a boy of sixteen a few days 
 ago to assist me. I was interested to learn what he 
 thought of the youth in Utah. This boy, who seemed 
 a nice lad, is the son of a fifth wife; he has younger 
 brothers and sisters, and his father has a younger wife 
 than his mother. They must both have been very 
 young for matrimony before the manifesto, I judge. I 
 asked this boy what he thought of polygamy. 
 'T don't know," he said. 
 ''Does the church know it is being practised now? 
 
 I asked. 
 
 He hesitated. "Well, they let on they don't; but 
 they don't say nothing against it to the people who 
 do live that way." 
 
 "But what do you think of it?" I asked again. 
 
 "I don't know much else," he said ; then added fierce- 
 ly : "I think it is awful. I aim to get out of this place 
 
 lOI 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 this fall. I am going to the coast, and when I get 
 started I am going to send for my mother. She has 
 to work awful hard here." 
 
 "Don't your father provide for her?" 
 
 "I should say not. He ain't done nothing for us 
 since he was married the last time. It keeps him hump- 
 ing to provide for his last wife and her kids." 
 
 I have no words that will express the bitterness in 
 that boy's tone. He went on : "I can't get ahead none 
 here. I work all the time, but I am taxed for some- 
 thing all the time ; this week it is $3 for repairs on the 
 meeting-house, and every week it's tithing. I never 
 
 see any good of what I earn." 
 
 ******* 
 
 I agreed that the faith did seem a bit expensive, but 
 good things come high everywhere. 
 
 "Do you think the children in Utah are good or 
 bad?" 
 
 "Rotten," he said emphatically. "There was a 
 woman wrote a piece in the Salt Lake Tribune about 
 the school kids here. It wasn't half strong enough. 
 But you can't expect so much of the children ; I know 
 some girls here that their own father ruined." 
 
 "But that is a terrible crime," I said. "A man gets 
 a Hfe sentence for that." 
 
 "Not here," the boy asserted. "This man only got 
 six months." 
 
 I remembered coming through Walla Walla, where 
 the State prison of Washington is situated, a year ago 
 this autumn. Our train stopped opposite the prison, 
 and the sheriff of Colfax got off, and led a handcuffed 
 man slowly up the path to the iron gates. It was near- 
 ing sunset, and the red reflection of the setting sun 
 
 102 
 
THE HORNETS NEST. 
 
 shone on the gray walls of the prison and glinted from 
 the barred windows. Somebody said that the man was 
 to be committed for life, and a murmur of sympathy 
 ran through the car, until it was whispered from seat 
 to seat the nature of the crime for which he was giv- 
 inc^ up the liberty of the remainder of his life— the 
 same crime as men in Utah are sentenced to six months 
 for— and no one thought the life sentence severe 
 
 enough. ^ . ^ 
 
 Why is there this difference? Is not one reason that 
 the State deals so gently with such crimes as the one 
 above alluded to because the church started, and has 
 always upheld, perversions of the moral law? Is not 
 that one reason why Utah as a State is so accustomed 
 to awful moral conditions that she gives such offenders 
 six months, where her sister States give life sentences? 
 I did not say it was, I asked you. ^ t u v 
 
 Is it another traceable result of polygamy? I believe 
 I must close by saying that I am sore afraid that the 
 sins of Utah to-day started many years ago with the 
 sins of the fathers' polygamy. Good never yet came 
 from evil. 
 
 103 
 
XL 
 WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIND IF HE CAME. 
 
 One woe is past; and behold there came two more here- 
 after.— Rev. IX. 12. 
 
 Brother Amos had dropped in to tea at Sister 
 Loomis'. She always had hot scones and jam tart 
 and cup cake at tea. and, shocking to tell, despite the 
 Word of Wisdom, black tea. Brother Amos always 
 told her the sin of this indulgence, the while he passed 
 his cup to be refilled ; he always said that he feared he 
 would have a headache, so maybe he better drink it 
 this time. As for Sister Loomis, she said that if a cup 
 of tea would keep her out of the Kingdom, then she 
 would stay out. She was an Englishwoman, and kept 
 her native method of ministering to the body after she 
 had accepted the Mormon custom of nourishing the 
 spirit. 
 
 She had been persuaded to come to Zion, and, to- 
 gether with the rest of His chosen, await the second 
 coming of Christ ; she had a fancy that she would find 
 them all fairly panting with eagerness for that day to 
 dawn — they were, meeting-time, but after — well, they 
 seemed about as anxious for the loaves and fishes as 
 did the unredeemed. Sister Loomis was too British 
 to see a joke, and so she puzzled over the condition in 
 the antechamber. She asked Brother Amos about them 
 
 104 
 
WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIND, 
 
 while she dished the tea. Brother Amos answered her 
 indirectly, in his prayer. He always prayed through 
 his nose, under the impression, apparently, that a nasal 
 tone was the best to carry upward. He reminded God 
 of the promise that Christ was to come again, and 
 soon, to confound the wicked; and asked, earnestly 
 and nasally, that He would send that His followers 
 have more faith, and would trust without question to 
 those in authority, and to rely on the word of the 
 anointed prophet. Sister Loomis felt rebuked, but, be- 
 ing English, she still wondered what the Lord Christ 
 wanted of all the tithing collected in His name. He 
 who had been a humble laborer of Galilee ; and what 
 He, whose name stands for purity, would think of 
 certain things in Zion if He should come before "those 
 in authority" would have time to close the back en- 
 trance. 
 
 ******* 
 
 To tell the truth. Sister Loomis' faith had lacked the 
 solidity of the mountain ever since she had taken in 
 old lady Page, and, too, since her young daughter. 
 Pearl, had quite refused to stay in of nights. Pearl 
 had been a good girl in England ; but here, her mother 
 sickened with apprehension at the way she was "going 
 on.'' Grandma Page had been on the hands of the 
 relief society for some time ; it gets tiresome, reheving 
 the same person all the time, as every one knows, so 
 Sister Loomis, being new and zealous, had been in- 
 duced to give her a home— the need of one would be 
 short. The old lady had long since outgrown her use- 
 fulness, and her husband, noble man, had taken a 
 younger wife and moved away, so as not to be need- 
 
 105 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 lessly annoyed by any silly claims this useless old 
 woman might make on him. She was sort of annoying 
 because she didn't seem especially grateful to the 
 church for keeping her alive, or to Sister Loomis for 
 giving her a home. She was wont to sit broodingly 
 silent near the fire; she would seldom go to the table 
 at meal-time, and often forgot to eat what Sister 
 Loomis took to her. To-day, however, she seemed sort 
 of "perked up," and interested in what they were say- 
 ing. She hobbled over to the table and sat down, 
 facing Brother Amos, but she spoke to Sister Loomis. 
 Her voice sounded, some way, like the dry rustle of 
 a sere leaf, and her face was the color of its last dun 
 hue, before the snow covered its decay. 
 
 "Ye was askin' what Christ 'ud find if He come," 
 she said. 'I'd d'know what all He'd find, but if ye 
 hark I'll tell ye a few things a-waitin' fer the cleansin' 
 fire an' the flamin' sword that is promised in the 
 Word." 
 
 She moistened her dry lips, and Brother Amos unctu- 
 ously passed her a scone, which she waved aside with 
 a gesture of her withered, fleshless hand. 
 
 "Saint Paul," reminded Brother Amos, who knew 
 something of what she could tell if she were allowed 
 to talk, "commanded that women keep silent in the 
 sanctuary, and I take that to mean silent regarding 
 those matters it is not given them to understand.'* 
 
 "The Bible says, too, that all men are liars," Sister 
 Loomis said, with spirit. "And it don't say 'except 
 Saint Paul,' either. Go on, grandma. You was 
 sayin' ?" 
 
 The old woman laughed, and her laugh sounded like 
 the crackle of dried leaves, blown about by an adverse 
 
 io6 
 
WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIND. 
 
 wind. "If ever the Mormons git a man-heaven," she 
 said, "it will be full of tongueless women. I mind me 
 when Brother Kimball used to speak of his wives as 
 'noisy heifers' ; all is, though, he never treated 'em half 
 so well. In them days, wives was plentier nor cattle, 
 an' treated with less notice." 
 
 Brother Amos, who had listened fidgetingly to this ar- 
 raignment against some of his sainted leaders, suc- 
 ceeded in catching Sister Loomis' eye, and surrep- 
 titiously tapped his forehead and smiled meaningly. The 
 old woman saw his gesture. Her eyes flamed as with 
 an afterglow of an all but extinguished fire. "Funny 
 an' strange it is that I ain't off here," she said, tap- 
 ping her seamed old brow in exact imitation of his 
 gesture, "but I ain't, and I never was. Trouble with 
 me an' the Mormons was, I was always too sane fer 
 'em. I am yet. I sorter hang in with some of the 
 women, because they are good and unhappy if they 
 don't believe the fearful things you all teach, an' good 
 an' crazy if they do ; ain't no harm in 'em either way." 
 
 Sister Loomis pressed a saucer of cooled tea on the 
 old woman, who balanced it with two tremulous hands 
 and drank it gurglingly. 
 
 "I don't know as she should overdo talking," Brother 
 Amos said, as he reached for a jam tart. 
 
 " 'Twould be terrible for me to overdo," grandma 
 retorted, with a sarcastic little echo of a laugh. "Ye 
 mout need a dose o' bitters afore ye git through lis- 
 tenin' to me overdo. Is this a spring or a fall storm?" 
 she asked of the younger woman, as a gust of wind 
 rattled the windows and shook a handful of sodden 
 
 107 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 leaves from the box elder-tree that shielded the house 
 from the street. 
 
 "It is fall, grandma, don't you mind?" 
 
 "You see" — Brother Amos spoke with an assumption 
 of pity — "poor grandma don't even mind the time o' 
 day, or year." 
 
 "I do git forgetful of them little things," the old 
 •woman agreed, "but the big ones — them I remember, 
 an' I am saving of 'em up to tell Christ v^hen He 
 comes." 
 
 "I don't know as you have aught against me," 
 Brother Amos said, as though he had been accused. 
 
 "I have some things to recall agin' your kind," she 
 answered with asperity. She allowed herself another 
 saucerful of tea. "That was spring," she said, "dur- 
 ing a spring rain." 
 
 Sister Loomis reached up on the clock-shelf and 
 took down her knitting. Brother Amos shifted un- 
 easily in his chair and cleared his throat. He wished 
 he had the authority of Saint Paul and could com- 
 mand silence in the babbling sex. Such tales were not 
 good for new, well-paying converts to hear. Whoever 
 supposed that, after years of stupid silence, the old 
 woman would take a notion to talk? But she was con- 
 tinuing, her cracked old voice was growing stronger as 
 she continued speaking: "I was saying that it was 
 springtime, an' that there was a storm, rattlin' the 
 windows like this. I never hear that sound, or the 
 creak of tree branches 'out I think on that night. The 
 storm come up sudden and fierce, as though 
 God A'mighty Himself was sending it in anger at 
 their doin's." She fell silent a moment, and Brother 
 Amos essayed a wink at Sister Loomis. "I wish," she 
 
 io8 
 
WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIND. 
 
 spoke again presently, withdrawing her eyes with an 
 effort from the open window, through which she saw 
 the bared branches of the trees tossing in the dreary 
 wind, "you'd pull down that window-shade. I seem 
 to see the spirits of them that's gone, an' I am wont 
 to fall to talkin' to them of things we knew an' re- 
 member, instead of to you— of things you never heard 
 
 of, or hev forgot." 
 
 ^ ***** * 
 
 Sister Loomis lowered the shade. 
 *'What things, grandma?" she asked. 
 "Things to do with them airly days, with my own 
 husband'an' our little girl— was her spirit I thought I 
 saw then, in the wind, the yellow turn of a leaf seemed 
 to grow into her shinin', silken hair. We never took 
 stock in the Mormons; John, my man, was against 
 them from the first. He was a schoolmaster, but he 
 got lung fever, an' we thought to change country, an' 
 homestead. We crossed the plains with a wagon. We 
 had a terrible time ; I can feel the heat of that desert 
 sun on my head to this day; we run out of water, an' 
 would 'a' left our bones bleachin' if we hadn't 'a' fell in 
 with a train of Mormons. They agreed to take us 
 with them if we would side in with their faith. Seemed 
 a small enough thing to do then, but we never guessed 
 —we never guessed what it meant when we promised 
 —out there in that scorchin' desert path, to join in 
 their ways. We got settled, an' one day here come 
 the bishop, savin' that he had had a revelation from 
 A'mio-hty God^to take me for his wife. John flared up 
 awful 'She is my lawful wife !' he yells, 'an' you are 
 a liar.' He went then, mutterin'. Next night two 
 men called an' warned John not to go agin' God's wish. 
 
 lOQ 
 
THE RErELATIOX L\' THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 He laughed at them, an* they went. Xext day there 
 was a number writ in the sand in our doonard, the 
 next it was on our door, an* ever}- day as sure as 
 momin* came we saw the number. My Uttle girl 
 would point it out with her finger and laugh. Laugh ! 
 Dear God I One evenin', drawin' on dusk, a ofiScer 
 came in, an', showing his badge, says to John, *I arrest 
 ye in the name of the law.' 'What forr asked John, 
 wonderin', fer if ever a man was law-abidin' it was him. 
 Ter stealin* sheep,* he says. 'AVe found *em in your 
 paster.' 'That's a lie I" John yells. 1 just come from 
 the paster an' there weren't no sheep there.' For an- 
 swer the man opened the back door an* pointed out, 
 an' there, sure enough, we could see a little bunch of 
 sheep huddled together in our paster. 'There may be 
 a mistake,' the omcer says, *an' if there be, it will be 
 as easy as rollin' down hill fer ye to git off, but until 
 
 it can be straightened out ' He put his hand on 
 
 John's shoulder, an' I, knowin' what it meant, put 
 my arm around him an' begun to cry. Officer seemed 
 sorter put out, an' he says, says he, 'Now, looky- here. 
 Brother Page, I don't beheve you stole them sheep : I 
 hate to lock ye up. I do so : but ye have been a leetle 
 stiff-necked with the church, an* it may be a bit of disci- 
 plinin ye need. Them sheep bein' stole, an* bein' found 
 on your land so, makes it look queer, but Fm soft- 
 hearted, I am,' he says, sorter smackin* his lips, 'and 
 Fll tell ye what 1*11 do: Fll leave the window of the 
 jail unbarred — by mistake,* \\-inkin' at me. 'an' when it 
 gits dark, you m.ake your escape. Do you see?" We 
 didn't see. and John said so, but the officer said, *'Waal, 
 I will of done m.y doot\-, arrestin' of you. an' the au- 
 thorities will be so dimafounded at their own careless- 
 
 IIO 
 
WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIXD, 
 
 ness in leavin' the window unbarred, as they will sup- 
 pose, that, chances is, nothin' more'll be said to you/ 
 Of course, there was no other way but for John to go, 
 an' I, in spite of the ofhcer's fair words, felt such a 
 sick feelin" of dread that I took my Httle girl an' fol- 
 lowed close behind them. I stole up as close as I could, 
 an' hid in a clump of bushes just outside the jail. I 
 saw a light fiare up, an' John an' the officer movin' 
 around in the cell ; I saw the officer fumbUn' with the 
 window : then John tried it, an' tumin* around, glad- 
 like, an' shakin' hands with the officer. Then we 
 waited. Xight came on, an' a chill wind began to blow, 
 the trees moaned like they do to-night, an' I kept 
 hearin' a sound like the breathin' of excited people, but 
 I allowed that it must be my own heart I heard. Kitty 
 clung clost to m.e, an' I lulled her to sleep ; then, finally, 
 ^lormonism — Twenty Four 
 
 after a long time, I see John come to the window an' 
 look all around, then raise it slowly, an' put out his 
 head, an' then — an' then — he started to climb out, an' 
 — an' " 
 
 She took to trembling so violently that she could 
 not speak, her weak, quivering chin dropped. Pearl, 
 w^ho had ccm.e in unobser^-ed during the old lady's 
 monologue, ran to her and put her strong young arm 
 around the bowed old shoulders. Sister Locmis hastily 
 poured a bit of liquor in a cup and gave it to her. 
 
 "You see," Brother Amos said, "1 warned you 
 against allowing her to talk."' 
 
 The old lady gave him a half-smile, full of mean- 
 ing, and in a moment continued speaking in a con- 
 trolled voice. 'Then a number of men ran out, irom 
 all around the bushes near where we vras hid, an' — 
 
 III 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 an' — murdered him there in cold blood, before my very 
 eyes." 
 
 "Oh!" the girl cried out, shuddering. ''Don't!" 
 
 *'You see," Brother Amos said, ''I suppose they 
 thought he was breakin' jail." 
 
 "You hush," the old woman hissed. He hushed. 
 **He was betrayed, murdered, by the same low treach- 
 ery that has' lured many a man an' woman to their 
 death. I ran to him, fightin' my way through that pack 
 of wild beasts that A'mighty had made a mistake an' 
 put in the form o' men ; they was hackin' his dear body 
 in the sign o' the four (if ye don't know what that is, 
 Brother Amos here can tell ye)." 
 
 There was another palpitating silence before she 
 could gather strength to go on : "An' then, when they 
 had him mutilated they took him an' me an' my little 
 girl an' locked us in a room together. I begged — 
 oh, God ! how I begged ! — that they wouldn't make my 
 baby look at that terrible, bleeding thing that had been 
 her father, but they pushed right up to him, an' her, 
 nothin' but a baby who had known nothin' but lovin' 
 looks an' fair words all her life. They told her an' 
 me to look until we had learned what happened to 
 them as went agin' the law of the church. I don't 
 know how long we was locked up ; I hev lost all count. 
 Next I remember, I was at bishop's house ; one of his 
 wives was carin' for me, I was like a infant. When 
 I asked for Kitty, they told me that she was dead. I 
 never knew if that was true, if they had killed her, or 
 if some fiend had stole her away. The bishop had his 
 way an' married me. I — I reckon it must have been a 
 long time ago." 
 
 She held one withered hand up before her eyes, and 
 
 112 
 
WHAT CHRIST WOULD FIND. 
 
 looked at it closely. "I must be very old," she said 
 musingly. ''I hev waited from youth on to now, to 
 see that day dawn when A'mighty God would fulfil 
 His promise." Slow and solemn as a benediction she 
 pronounced the last words of her story: "Vengeance 
 is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay." 
 
 The wind, grown more boisterous, tore madly round 
 the house. The fire flared up on the hearth and il- 
 luminated the strangely contrasted faces in the little 
 group in Sister Loomis' dining-room. The old woman, 
 exhausted, had fallen asleep in her chair. Sister 
 Loomis pointed a dramatic finger at her unconscious 
 form. "If Christ should come He would find such 
 as she," she said. 
 
 "And such as me," the girl half-moaned. 
 
 "You, Pearl ?" her mother asked ; she looked at her 
 and hid her face in her apron. 
 
 "Every one here seems the same," the girl said des- 
 perately. "They don't think like we did in England 
 about things. It — it was a missionary himself who — 
 who told me that God did not side in with the law of 
 the wicked Gentiles; but because they persecuted us 
 so, we had to keep our sacred love a secret ; then, when 
 I told him I must tell you, he— he laughed at me, an' 
 said he had a wife, an' that if I told, they would send 
 us both to jail. Don't look at me like that, mother. I 
 never wanted to leave our church or England, and it 
 was you who made me trust the Mormons. I didn't 
 think a Mormon missionary would lie. There are 
 plenty of girls like me, and I can tell you things you 
 never dreamed of. I know a boy right here in Ogden, 
 who is a father, and he ain't sixteen. I know a little 
 girl who has had two babies, an' she ain't fifteen, and 
 
 113 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 she ain't married. Oh, I can tell things! If Christ 
 does come, He will find old women like her, and young 
 ones like me, and boys and girls like I tell you about, 
 and" — turning fiercely on Brother Amos, "worse than 
 all, men like you!" 
 
 Brother Amos left. He not only feared a headache, 
 but he had one. He felt timid, too, and the wavering 
 shadows of the trees and the moaning sigh of the 
 wind seemed replete with terrible meaning. He stood 
 still. Was it the wind, or was it a woman's cry? He 
 shuddered with terror. 
 
 If Christ comes. He will find many as guilty a con- 
 science as Brother Amos'. 
 
 114 
 
XII. 
 
 A LITTLE STORY OF THE RISE OF THE 
 
 MORMONS. 
 
 The writer of these little idyls of the Mormons has 
 been severely criticized, even threatened, about the use 
 of the word authentic, which has been used in reference 
 to the published work. As long as they were written 
 as fiction, said a saint, then they could not injure the 
 church (the rock upon which it was built seems to 
 have been set in quicksand, anyway), but as truth! If 
 the writer escaped civil punishment, she would be sure 
 to have celestial chastisement meted out for so daring 
 to reveal to a gaping world some of the sacred secrets 
 of an alleged religion. 
 
 The stories published heretofore are not strictly ver- 
 batim testimony, and in a sense are not absolutely 
 authentic, and it is the present purpose of the writer 
 to tell why. The actual, authentic, provable facts that 
 have been investigated for the purpose of putting cer- 
 tain phases of the saints' doctrine in the form of stories 
 were in every instance too horrible, too blasphemous, 
 too obscene, to be artistically available for the purpose 
 for which they were written. They are not, then, au- 
 thentic in so much as a veil of decency has perforce 
 been drawn over the hideousness of the undraped 
 facts. For example, in the story which will give the 
 book its name, the impression is left that after the 
 
 115 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE 'MOUNTAIN. 
 
 agonizing prayer in the mountain height, when, as she 
 felt, the Mormon woman drew near to God, that her 
 suppHcation was heard, and that the second wife was, 
 as she had begged, treated as a daughter. Any one 
 famihar with the teaching and practise of the Mor- 
 mons would know that such an ending would never 
 actually have occurred, but it would have been too 
 ribald to have written, as was the fact, that less than 
 a year after his promise to his first wife, he had a 
 child by the adopted daughter. It would not be decent 
 to tell about that revelation of the halo surrounding 
 Brigham, that, before it was ''called in," resulted in 
 dozens of little graves so placed in the cemetery that 
 they can be told on that last day, from the ones born in 
 what they paraphrase wedlock. Just how these chil- 
 dren were brought into the world, and why they all 
 died in infancy, would not do, artistically, to have told, 
 any more than it would do, verbatim, to tell why one 
 of the old ''teachers" said that their work was easier 
 now than it was before the manifesto; it wouldn't do 
 to tell, word for word, the reason why a certain polyg- 
 amous wife stood at her doorway with an axe in her 
 hand for days, or why certain little girls are invalids 
 that are being cared for by a mission that the writer 
 wots of. 
 
 Just here I am minded to tell a little story about 
 that wonderful, mysterious manuscript that stands as 
 a particular star to guide the brotherhood of saints. 
 We are told, whenever we go through the tabernacle, 
 that the Mormons are a remnant of the lost tribe re- 
 ferred to in the Scriptures. They have been lost all 
 
 n6 
 
RISE OF THE MORMONS. 
 
 right, but, as nearly as can be judged, have never been 
 found; as for the remnant part — that's all right, too, 
 only that they have been marked down until it v^ere 
 cheaper to leave them than to take them, even if one 
 got a bonus for so doing. But about that sacred man- 
 uscript, portions of which were revealed as fast as it 
 was thought that the spiritual bread contained therein 
 could be digested. Did you ever wonder where that 
 manuscript came from? 
 
 The writer met a very old lady recently, who told 
 the following story. If it should be true, as she thinks 
 it is, then for those who have placed the hope of their 
 soul's salvation on the testimony translated from that 
 ancient, mysterious writing, it would be to laugh. 
 "Blessed," says the Bible, "are they who can believe 
 without seeing ;" and the Mormons seem to have been 
 blessed (or cursed) insomuch as they have believed 
 without thinking, for, if they thought— they wouldn't 
 be Mormons. 
 
 Many years ago, in Illinois, lived a family whom 
 we will now call Smith. They were hard-shelled Pres- 
 byterians. The father was noted as a Bible student, 
 and, as he had served as a missionary to the Indians 
 and made himself thoroughly conversant with their 
 fantastic legends and customs, was counted a man of 
 great learning, and so authoritative that all denomina- 
 tions came to him to settle doctrinal disputes. He had 
 a large family, which he ruled with the Bible and a 
 rod. They all went in for learning, and the eldest boys 
 were sent to an academy, and there fell in with a young 
 Bible student named Ransom Dunn, who afterward 
 became a famous preacher. As this young man was 
 weak alike on funds and book learning, an arrangement 
 
 117 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 was made whereby he was to stay in the family and 
 exchange chores for such teaching as Mr. Smith and 
 his sons could give him. About this time, however, 
 the health of the older man failed, and, realizing from 
 the nature of his malady that he would have very little 
 more time to live, he spent almost all his time in wri- 
 ting. One day he took a big roll of manuscript, closely 
 written, and tied about with leather thongs, to his wife 
 and told her that there was written on those pages that 
 which, if given into the right hands, would keep her 
 from the almshouse after he was gone. 
 
 She put it carefully away in a bureau drawer and 
 thought no more about it until the following winter. 
 The evenings being long and often dull, she brought 
 it out and bade the young men read it and see if they 
 could discover therein anything that would bring in 
 money in case the wolf got too clamorous at the door. 
 
 They began reading aloud, with many stops for 
 argument and much searching of the Bible for the au- 
 thority for some startling facts. 
 
 Some of these they traced to the book and others to 
 the Indian legends. It was very interesting, and the 
 younger children often sat up late at night to listen to 
 the reading and the discussions of the new religion out- 
 lined in the writing of their father. 
 
 This same winter, near the "breaking up" of the 
 spring, there came to this hamlet a young man named 
 Joseph Smith, who said he was a prophet of God. 
 Now, these young men went to see him, and being, as 
 has been stated, somewhat long on learning, told the 
 prophet that he needed a little more educating. It is 
 
 Ii8 
 
RISE OF THE MORMONS. 
 
 said that he and some of his followers were told the 
 story of the wonderful manuscript then in their pos- 
 session, and that the prophet went to their home and 
 they to his little meeting-house, built on planks across 
 the creek, as no one was willing to allow the new re- 
 ligion to be taught on his soil. 
 
 Spring opened and with its budding came the annual 
 need of cleaning house. When the widow went to 
 clear out the bureau, in one of the drawers of which 
 was kept the manuscript, it was gone! They hunted 
 both high and low ; they minutely questioned each of 
 the thirteen children, they asked the young man named 
 Ransom Dunn and the prophet called Joseph Smith, but 
 no trace of it was ever found. That is, no trace of the 
 original manuscript, but it is alleged by the one living 
 member of that family, who now, at the age of ninety- 
 seven, is awaiting her summons hence, that the manu- 
 script was the same, and the doctrines found therein 
 are identical with those which her father had written 
 in whimsical mood the winter before his death, and 
 that they are no more ancient than is the birth of that 
 fantastic, irrational religion called Mormonism. 
 
 This old lady remembers the prophet very well. 
 She recalls telling him that she would not want to go 
 to a heaven reached by walking over women's hearts, 
 and, she says, from the isle of memory drift snatches of 
 conversation held between those people who are now 
 only a name, and from that far-away isle she is carry- 
 ing an impression to the shore of eternity that the 
 church which calls itself the Latter-day Church of 
 Jesus Christ stole a manuscript written by her father 
 the winter before the prophet, Joseph Smith, came to 
 Illinois. 
 
 119 
 
XIII. 
 THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 Mysteries of the Endowment House and Oath of 
 Vengeance of the Mormon Church, as Testified to 
 by Professor Walter Wolfe, Late of the B. Y. 
 College at Logan, and the Whole Endowment 
 Ceremony, as Sworn to by Him at Washington, 
 on Wednesday, February 7, 1906, Before the Sen- 
 ate Committee on Privileges and Elections, in Its 
 Hearing in the Smoot Case. 
 
 On entering the annex to the Temple the candidate 
 is ushered into a room on the right, where he presents 
 his "recommend," which must be signed by his ward 
 bishop and by the president of the stake from which 
 he comes. With the presenting of his "recommend" 
 he is expected to make a contribution toward the Tem- 
 ple services, although this is voluntary with him. 
 
 From this room he passes to another on the left, 
 where he gives his records and receives the name of 
 the one for whom he is to work in case he has no re- 
 lation of his own whom he wishes to save. 
 
 The records being attended to, the prayer-room is 
 next entered. About the walls of this room are the 
 pictures of the president and apostles of the church. 
 A raised stand at one end of the room accommodates 
 
 120 
 
h*M'^^^ 
 
 
 I'kTti:-^. .*,*.j«." 
 
 r^-.^«^«i««feii^-K' -j:l 
 
 THE MORMON TEMPLE AT SALT LAKE CITY. VTAll.— Page uo. 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 those who preside and who instruct the candidates. Be- 
 fore entering the prayer-room the candidates remove 
 their shoes. This is usually done in the long, covered 
 passageway that leads from the annex to the Temple 
 proper. The services are very simple, consisting 
 usually of the singing of two hymns, some remarks, 
 and prayer. 
 
 As soon as the exercises are finished, all proceed to 
 the dressing-rooms, except those men who are to re- 
 ceive endowment for the dead. Those pass into the 
 back part of the prayer-room, and some of the regu- 
 lar Temple workers go to each candidate, lay their 
 
 hands on his head, and say: "Brother , in the 
 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the authority of 
 the holy Melchisedec priesthood, I ordain you an elder 
 in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, for 
 and in behalf of , who is dead." 
 
 IN THE DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 In the dressing-room all clothing is removed except- 
 ing the garments, and these are taken off and handed 
 to one of the attendants as the candidate enters the 
 bathtub. The man who attends to the washing rubs 
 the head, the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the lips, the 
 breast, the vitals, the loins, the legs, and the feet. This 
 being done, the candidate leaves the tub, is hurriedly 
 wiped dry, and then mounts a stool, where he is 
 anointed with oil poured from a ram's horn, the same 
 parts being anointed that were washed just previously. 
 He then stands while a man places his garments over 
 his shoulders, telling him that these garments are a 
 pattern of those which the Lord gave to Adam in the 
 Garden of Eden; telling him further that they must 
 
 121 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 not be removed, and that they will prove a protection 
 in time of danger. With the garments he whispers 
 into the candidate's ear a new name — usually one taken 
 from the Bible — and he is instructed never to reveal 
 this name to any person except as it may be required 
 at one point during the Temple ceremony. If he is 
 working for the dead, he is informed that when he is 
 through the Temple ceremony the name may be for- 
 gotten, as it is the property of the dead and not his 
 own. 
 
 The candidate then goes back to the dressing-room, 
 where he puts on a shirt and a pair of white pants ; 
 also white stockings. He carries with him a bundle 
 containing robes, cape, sandals, and apron. 
 
 IN CREATION-ROOM. 
 
 He then goes to the creation-room, where the men 
 are seated on the right, the women on the left. The 
 delay here is long and tedious, as the walls are bare 
 and the ceremony of washing and anointing takes a 
 long time, if there happen to be more candidates. 
 
 At length the silence is broken, and a man enters a 
 door in the front of the room dressed in white flannel 
 and representing Elohim, the greatest of the Mormon 
 deities. He makes the statement that any who wish 
 to retire may do so ; that everything which is heard and 
 seen is to be kept a profound secret — that which has 
 been already passed through as well as that which is to 
 come. Seeing none who wish to retire, he continues : 
 
 ''Brethren, you have been washed and pronounced 
 clean ; that is, clean from the blood and sins of this 
 generation. You have been anointed that you may be- 
 come kings and priests to our God and His Christ; not 
 
 122 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 that you have been anointed kings and priests, but that 
 you may become such; this will depend upon your 
 faithfulness. 
 
 "You, sisters, have been washed and anointed that 
 you may become queens and priestesses to your lords ; 
 that is, your husbands. 
 
 THREE VOICES HEARD. 
 
 "You will now hear three voices — Elohim, Jehovah, 
 and Michael. Now, give your attention and hear what 
 you shall hear." 
 
 Elohim disappears, and immediately his voice is 
 heard from a remote part of the adjacent room : 
 
 Elohim — Jehovah and Michael, there is matter un- 
 organized. Let us go down and make a world like 
 unto the other worlds we have created. 
 
 Jehovah and Michael — We v/ill go down. 
 
 It is evident, then, that Elohim remains in the celes- 
 tial world, while Jehovah and Michael have to do with 
 the creation of this. The work is carried on in strict 
 accordance with the account as given in Genesis. At 
 the end of each day Jehovah says to Michael: "We 
 
 will go down and report this, the labor of the 
 
 day." Michael replied : "We will return and report." 
 They then retire to the back part of the room and 
 address Elohim, telling him what they have done, and 
 get assigned their duties for the next day. 
 
 After the completion of the work, Elohim, Jehovah, 
 and Michael enter throus^h the door at which Elohim 
 had entered before. Michael takes a chair, while Elo- 
 him and Jehovah stand on either side. 
 
 Elohim— See the earth that we have made. There 
 is no man in it to till the ground. 
 
 123 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 Jehovah — Let us make a man in our own image. 
 
 HE FALLS ASLEEP. 
 
 Elohim and Jehovah then pass their hands over 
 Michael's body, breathe on him, and he falls asleep. 
 
 Elohim (to the audience) — This man who is being 
 operated on is Michael. When he awakes he will have 
 forgotten everything and become as a little child and 
 will be known as Adam. 
 
 Whereupon Adam awakes. 
 
 Elohim — It is not good for man to be alone. 
 
 Jehovah — It is not good, for we are not alone. 
 
 Elohim — We will cause a deep sleep to fall upon 
 Adam and make for him a woman to be with him. 
 
 The male part of the audience are then told to close 
 their eyes, to imitate Adam's sleep. While Adam sleeps 
 Eve enters and stands beside him. Elohim wakens 
 Adam and says : 
 
 Elohim — Adam, see the woman we have created for 
 you. What will you call her? 
 
 Adam — Eve. 
 
 Elohim — Why Eve? 
 
 Adam — Because she is the mother of all living. 
 
 Elohim (to Jehovah)— We will plant a garden east- 
 ward in Eden, and there we will put the man whom we 
 have made. 
 
 Elohim (to the audience) — The brethren will now 
 follow Adam, and the sisters will follow Eve. 
 
 IN GARDEN OF EDEN. 
 
 All go up one flight of stairs to the Garden of Eden. 
 The sides of this wall are paitited to represent a tropical 
 scene, and birds and beasts seem to be at perfect 
 
 124 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 peace with each other. At one end of the room is the 
 altar, and behind this an elevator, on which the gods 
 descend and ascend. Near the front and to the left 
 of the altar as the audience faces it is the Tree of 
 Knowledge of Good and Evil. 
 
 Elohim and Jehovah are both present. Elohim ad- 
 dresses Adam: 
 
 Elohim— Adam, you see the garden we have planted 
 for you. Of all the trees of the garden you may surely 
 eat except the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. 
 Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye 
 die. Now, be happy and enjoy yourselves. We go 
 away, but we shall return. 
 
 Elohim and Jehovah then ascend in the elevator m 
 sight of the audience. 
 
 Adam (to audience)— Now, brethren, calm your 
 minds and be not surprised at anything you shall see 
 or hear ; we shall be visited soon. 
 
 Enter Devil, from back room, usually wearing a 
 silk hat, carrying a cane, and having on a Masonic 
 apron, with the pillars surmounted by the balls. 
 
 Devil— Adam, you have a nice world here, patterned 
 after the world where we used to live. 
 
 Adam— I do not remember about any other world. 
 
 Devil— Oh, I see you have not got your eyes opened 
 
 Goes to the tree, from which he pretends to pluck 
 fruit, which he offers to Adam. 
 
 Devil— Here, Adam, take some of the fruit of this 
 
 tree. 
 
 Adam — I shall not partake. 
 
 I3evil— Oh, you won't, won't you? \yell, we shall 
 see. Eve, will you take some of this fruit? 
 
 125 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Eve — Who are you? 
 
 Devil — I am your brother. 
 
 Eve — You my brother, and come to tempt me to 
 disobey my father? 
 
 Devil — I said nothing about father. This will open 
 your eyes, and you v^^ill know good from evil, virtue 
 from vice, etc. 
 
 Eve — Is there no other way? 
 
 Devil — There is not. 
 
 EVE TASTES THE FRUIT. 
 
 (Eve then tastes the fruit, and Adam approaches.) 
 
 Devil — Now go and get Adam to partake. 
 
 Eve — I know thee now ; thou are Lucifer, who was 
 cast out of heaven for his rebellion. 
 
 Devil — Oh, I see you are beginning to get your eyes 
 opened already. 
 
 Eve — Adam, here is some of the fruit of that tree ; 
 it is very pleasant to the taste and 'very desirable. 
 
 Adam — I shall not partake. You know that father 
 commanded us not to touch that tree. 
 
 Eve — Do you intend to obey all of father's com- 
 mands ? 
 
 Adam — Yes, all of them. 
 
 Eve — ^Well, our father commanded us to be fruitful 
 and multiply and replenish the earth. Now I have par- 
 taken of the fruit and shall be cast out of the garden, 
 while you remain a lone man in the garden. 
 
 Adam — Yes, I see. I will partake that man may be. 
 
 Devil (nodding his head) — Yes, that is right. 
 
 (Elohim appears.) 
 
 Elohim — Adam, where are thou ? Adam, where are 
 thou? 
 
 126 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE, 
 
 ADAM CONCEALS HIMSELF. 
 
 (Adam, in the meantime, had conveniently concealed 
 himself near the tree.) 
 
 Adam — I heard thy voice as I was walking in the 
 garden, but I was ashamed because I was naked, and 
 I hid myself. 
 
 Elohim — Who told thee that thou wast naked ; hast 
 thou eaten of the tree that I commanded thou shouldst 
 not eat? 
 
 Adam — The woman that thou gavest to be with me, 
 she gave me of the fruit and I did eat. 
 
 Elohim — Eve, what have you been doing? 
 
 Eve — The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat. 
 
 Elohim — Lucifer, what have you been doing here? 
 
 Devil — Oh, the same as we have been doing in other 
 worlds ; I gave them some of the fruit to get their eyes 
 open. 
 
 Elohim then curses Lucifer, who defies him by say- 
 ing: 
 
 Devil — I will take the money and treasures of the 
 earth and buy up popes and princes, armies and navies, 
 and I will reign with blood and horror in the earth. 
 
 Elohim then drives the devil away, who goes out of 
 the door at which he entered, shaking his fist and 
 stamping his heels. Adam then turns to the audience 
 and says : 
 
 Adam — In your bundles, brethren and sisters, you 
 will each find an apron ; please put it on. 
 
 When the request has been complied with, Elohim 
 says: 
 
 Elohim — Let Adam be cast out of the garden, and 
 a cherubim be placed with a flaming sword to keep the 
 way of the tree of life. 
 
 127 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 As the elevator rises with Elohim and Jehovah on 
 it, a sword is waved through the curtain. 
 
 Eve now stands on Adam's left, and the first oath 
 is administered by Adam. 
 
 One couple from the audience kneel at the altar to 
 represent Adam and Eve, and all present participate 
 in the ceremony. The audience stands, the right hand 
 raised to the square. 
 
 FIRST OATH TAKEN. 
 
 *'We and each of us solemnly bind ourselves that we 
 will not reveal any of the secrets of the first token of 
 the Aaronic priesthood, with its accompanying name, 
 sign, or penalty. Should I do so, I agree that my 
 throat may be cut from ear to ear, and my tongue 
 torn out by its roots." 
 
 The name of this token is the new name of the can- 
 didate, wdiich he received when he w^as given his gar- 
 ments. 
 
 Grip — The grip is very simple : Hands clasped, 
 pressing the point of the knuckle of the index finger 
 with the thumb. 
 
 Sign — In executing the sign of the penalty, the 
 right hand, palm down, is placed across the body, so 
 that the thumb comes directly under and a little be- 
 hind the left ear. The hand is then drawn sharply to 
 the right across the throat, the elbow standing out at 
 a position of ninety degrees from the body, the hand 
 is then dropped from the square to the side. 
 
 Adam — The brethren will now follow Adam, and 
 the sisters will follow Eve. 
 
 IN DESOLATE WORLD. 
 
 The next room, the "lone and desolate world," has its 
 128 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 walls painted with scenes very different from those of 
 the Garden of Eden ; animals are fighting and the scene 
 is one of chaos. At the end of the room is an altar, 
 behind which stands Adam and Eve. 
 
 When Adam was cast out of the Garden of Eden he 
 built an altar and called on the Lord, saying : 
 
 Adam — Oh, Lord, hear the words of my mouth; 
 oh, Lord, hear the words of my mouth; oh. Lord, 
 hear the words of my mouth. 
 
 As Adam speaks these words, he raises his hands, 
 first high above his head, then to the square, then drops 
 them to his side. The words used are: "Pale, Ale, 
 Ale." We are told that in the pure Adamic language 
 these words mean, "Oh, Lord, hear the words of my 
 mouth." Adam, when asked why he is praying, re- 
 plies that he does not know, only he has been so in- 
 structed. 
 
 (Lucifer enters.) 
 
 LUCIFER ON THE GROUND. 
 
 Devil — I hear you ; what do you want ? 
 
 Adam — ^Who are you ? 
 
 Devil — I am the god of this world. 
 
 Adam — Who made you the god of this world ? 
 
 Devil — I made myself. What is it you want? 
 
 Adam — I was calling on father. 
 
 Devil — Oh, I see ; you want religion. I will have 
 some preachers down here presently. 
 
 (Enter preacher.) 
 
 Parson (looking around) — You h?^^e a ver\* fine 
 congregation here. 
 
 Devil — Oh, are you a preacher? 
 
 Parson — Yes. 
 
 129 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Devil — Ever been to college and studied the dead 
 languages ? 
 
 Parson — Why, certainly. No man can preach the 
 gospel unless he has been to college and studied the 
 dead languages. 
 
 Devil — If you will preach to this congregation and 
 convert them, mind you, I v^ill give you — let me see — 
 four thousand dollars a year. 
 
 PARSON SINGS HYMN. 
 
 Parson — That is very little, but I will do the best 
 I can. 
 
 The parson then opens a hymn-book and leads in a 
 hymn, while the devil prances around with a com- 
 placent air. After the singing the parson turns to 
 Adam and says : 
 
 Parson — Do you believe in the great spirit who 
 dwells beyond the bounds of time and space, and sits 
 on the top of a topless throne ; who is so great that 
 he can fill the universe, yet is so small that he can 
 dwell in your heart, whose center is everywhere and 
 whose circumference nowhere? 
 
 Adam — No ; I do not believe a word of it. 
 
 Parson — I am very sorry for you. But perhaps you 
 believe in hell, that great, bottomless pit, which is full 
 of fire and brimstone, into which the wicked are cast, 
 and where they are ever burning and yet never con- 
 sumed? 
 
 Adam — No ; I do not, and I am sorry for you. 
 
 The voices of the gods are now heard from an upper 
 room. 
 
 Elohim (to Jehovah) — The man Adam seems to be 
 true and faithful; let us send down to him Peter, 
 James, and John. 
 
 130 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 Jehovah — That is good. 
 
 Elohim (to Peter, James, and John) — Go down to 
 Adam, who seems to be a good and faithful man. 
 
 (Peter, Jam.es and John descend by a stairway at 
 the rear of the room.) 
 
 Peter — Hello ! What is going on here ? 
 
 Devil — We are making religion. 
 
 Peter — What are you making it out'of ? 
 
 Devil — Newspapers, novels, and notions of men and 
 women sugared over'with a little religion. 
 
 Peter— jHow does it take with this congregation? 
 
 Devil — Pretty well, all except that man Adam; he 
 does not believe anything. 
 
 Peter (to Adam) — Good morning. 
 
 Peter — (taking Adam's hand) — What is that? 
 
 Adam — The first token of the Aaronic priesthood. 
 
 Peter — Will you give it to me? 
 
 CANNOT GIVE TOKEN. 
 
 Adam — I cannot, for it is connected with my new 
 name; but this is the same sign. 
 
 (Peter. answers by the same sign.) 
 
 Adam — You are a true messenger of Father. 
 
 Peter — What do you think of the preaching of the 
 parson this morning ? 
 
 Adam — Why, he asked me if I believed in that 
 Great Spirit who dwells beyond the bounds of time and 
 space and sits on top of a topless throne ; who Is so 
 great that he fills the universe, yet so small that he can 
 dwell in your heart ; whose center is everywhere and 
 circumference nowhere. I told him I did not believe 
 a word of it. 
 
 Peter — I do not blame you. 
 
 131 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Parson — Are you the apostles of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ? 
 
 Peter — We are. 
 
 Parson (pointing to the Devil) — Why, he said that 
 we were to have no more apostles, but if any man came 
 along professing to be such, I was to ask them to cut 
 off an arm or a leg, or some other member of the body, 
 and stick it on again, just to show they had come with 
 power. 
 
 Peter — A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh 
 a sign. Do you know that man? 
 
 Parson — Certainly ; he is a great gentleman, and 
 stands at the head of all the religious denominations 
 of to-day. 
 
 Peter — Why, that is Lucifer. 
 
 Parson — What! the Devil? 
 
 Peter — Yes, I believe that is one of his names. You 
 should get out of his service and have a settlement with 
 him. 
 
 Parson — If I get out of his service, what is to be- 
 come of me? 
 
 Peter — Why, we will teach you the gospel in con- 
 nection with the rest of the sons of Adam. 
 
 Parson — Well, that is good. 
 
 Parson (turning to the Devil) — Sir, is it not time 
 we had a settlement? 
 
 Devil — Well, I will keep my word. I offered you 
 four thousand dollars per year to convert this people, 
 and, by what I can see, they have nearly converted you. 
 Get out of my kingdom ; I do not want such men in 
 it. 
 
 PARSON RETIRES. 
 
 (The Parson then retires by a back door, while 
 132 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 Peter, James, and John ascend the stairs and report to 
 Elohim the condition of the man Adam.) 
 
 Elohim— Peter, James, and John, go down again in 
 your true characters and reveal to Adam the second 
 token of the Aaronic priesthood, and place the robe 
 upon his left shoulder. 
 
 (They descend.) 
 
 Peter— I am Peter. 
 
 James— I am James. 
 
 John— I am John. 
 
 Devil (scowling)— I thought I knew you. 
 
 Peter (to Devil)— Begone! 
 
 Devil — By whose authority? 
 
 Peter (raising his arm to the square)— In the name 
 of Jesus Christ, my IMaster. 
 
 (The Devil disappears, scowling through the door 
 where the minister had already disappeared.) 
 
 The robes are then taken from the bundles and put 
 on the candidates, as well as the caps and sandals. 
 Then the apron is replaced and the oath is adminis- 
 tered to all, standing : 
 
 SECOND OATH ADMINISTERED. 
 
 "We, and each of us, do solemnly promise and bind 
 ourselves never to reveal any of the secrets of this 
 priesthood, with its accompanying name, sign, grip, or 
 penalty. Should we do so, we agree that our breasts 
 may be torn open, our hearts and vitals torn out and 
 given to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field." 
 
 Sign—The sign is made by extending the right hand 
 across the left breast, directly over the heart; then 
 drawing it rapidly from left to right, with the^ elbow 
 at the square ; then dropping the hand by the side. 
 
 133 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Name — The name is the given name of the candi- 
 date. 
 
 Grip — Clasp the right hand and place the thumb into 
 the hollow of the knuckle, between the first and second 
 fingers. 
 
 (Again the brethren follow Adam and the sisters 
 Eve, and the Celestial-room is entered.) 
 
 IN CELESTIAL-ROOM. 
 
 This room is divided into two parts by white cur- 
 tains, through which there are several openings. Some 
 of these are simply openings for convenience, but oth- 
 ers have a significance in which the candidates are 
 afterward instructed, for it is through these curtains 
 that the candidates must pass to gain their exaltation. 
 In front of the curtains is a raised platform, some 
 three or four steps above the general level, and on thf 
 platform the candidates wait, after their names have 
 been called, until it is time for them to be admitted to 
 the Sealing-rooms. 
 
 In front of the platform and on the general level 
 there is an altar, at which the true order of prayer is 
 taught. As soon as the candidates are seated, Elohim 
 is heard speaking to Peter, James, and John. 
 
 Elohim — Go down to Adam and give him the first 
 token of the Melchisedec priesthood, and place the robe 
 upon the right shoulder. 
 
 They go down, and Peter instructs them in the 
 changing of the robe. 
 
 After this, the following oath is administered to all, 
 standing : 
 
 THIRD OATH. 
 
 "You, and each of you, do covenant and promise that 
 134 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 you will never reveal any of the secrets of the priest- 
 hood, with its accompanying name, sign, and penalty. 
 Should you do so, you agree that your body may be 
 cut asunder and all your bowels gush out." 
 
 In this, the left hand is placed palm upright, directly 
 in front of the body, there being a right angle formed 
 at the elbow ; the right hand, palm down, is placed 
 under the elbow of the left ; then drawn sharply across 
 the bowels, and both hands are dropped at the side. 
 
 Name — The Son. 
 
 Sign — The sign is pressing with the forefinger and 
 thumb the palm and back of the hand of the recipient 
 of the Grip. This is called the "Sign of the Nail." 
 
 Peter, James, and John return to Elohim, report, and 
 come back to the audience. 
 
 Peter — The brethren, all standing, will receive the 
 second grip of the Melchidesec priesthood. 
 
 Grip — Grasp right hands so that the little fingers 
 are interlocked and the forefinger presses into the wrist. 
 
 (This is called the patriarchal grip or true sign of 
 the nail.) 
 
 Tradition says that when the Savior was crucified 
 the nail tore out the palm of his hand, so that they 
 had to put another through the wrist. 
 
 It has its accompanying name and penalty, and here 
 are given the three important obligations: 
 
 ''law of sacrifice." 
 
 Obligation. 
 
 Peter — You and each of you do covenant and prom- 
 ise that you will sacrifice your time, talents, and prop- 
 erty to the upbuilding of the Church of Jesus Christ of 
 Latter-day Saints. All bow your heads and say yes. 
 
 135 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 ''law of chastity." 
 
 To the Men. 
 
 Peter — You and each of you do covenant and prom- 
 ise that you will not have sexual intercourse with any 
 other than your lawful wife or wives, who may be 
 given you by the priesthood. All bow your heads and 
 say yes. 
 
 To the Women. 
 
 Peter — You and each of you covenant and promise 
 that you will not have sexual intercourse with any per- 
 son of the opposite sex save those who may have been 
 given you by the priesthood. 
 
 ''law of vengeance."" 
 
 Peter — You and each of you covenant and agree 
 that you will pray, and never cease to pray. Almighty 
 God to avenge the blood of the prophets upon this 
 nation ; and that you will teach the same to your chil- 
 dren unto the third and fourth generation. All bow 
 your heads and say yes. 
 
 (All having been seated, Elohim, or some one in 
 authority, comes to the front of the platform and de- 
 livers what is known as the sermon before the veil. On 
 Wednesdays, when there are a number of neophytes, 
 the address is very long and tedious ; the entire history 
 of the Temple work is repeated, so that the candidates 
 may have a clear understanding of what they have 
 learned. The marks in the veil are also explained, 
 with their significance and uses. Especially is it taught 
 that Adam was not made out of the dust of this earth ; 
 that he was begotten as any other man is begotten, and 
 that when he came here he brought Eve, one of his 
 
 136 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 wives, with him. I have heard that the sermon was 
 the one dehvered by Brigham Young at the dedication 
 of the St. George Temple. On Thursdays and Fridays, 
 when there are comparatively few who are going 
 through the Temple for the first time, the sermon be- 
 fore the veil is very much shortened, only the essential 
 part which refers to the creation of Adam being read.) 
 
 INSTRUCTED AS TO PFLWER. 
 
 After the sermon, the candidates are instructed in 
 the true order of prayer, as many couples as possible 
 surrounding the altar, the elder who is to pray standing 
 behind it. The signs of the holy priesthood are then 
 given, the last one being the uplifted hands, and the 
 words 'Tale, Ale, x-\le," repeated three times, in imita- 
 tion of Adam's prayer. All stop with the patriarchal 
 grip, the left elbow of one person resting upon the 
 right shoulder of the next one. In this way the circle 
 is made complete. 
 
 The elder now kneels by the altar, his right arm 
 raised to the square, his left hand extending, palm up, 
 "as though to receive a blessing." 
 
 A form of prayer is then oflFered, which sen-es as a 
 type for similar prayers in every prayer circle of the 
 IMormon priesthood. 
 
 PAS5IXG THROUGH THE VEIL. 
 
 The candidates resume their seats and the process 
 of passing through the veil begins. 
 
 In the veil are to be seen the square and compass; 
 also other openings which represent the slits in the 
 knees of every garment, which are said to indicate that 
 tlie time will come when every knee shall bow and 
 
 ^Z7 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 every tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ. There 
 are also openings for the hands, which are called open- 
 ings of convenience. 
 
 Three or four candidates come from behind the veil 
 — men to act for men and women for women. The 
 name of the candidate is called. He rises from his seat 
 in the audience, accompanied by the woman or women 
 whom he has brought with him, mounts the platform, 
 and takes his seat until the attendants are ready for his 
 turn. In going up the three steps of the platform the 
 man must always precede. I once saw a young man 
 step courteously aside to let his intended bride pre- 
 cede him, when the attendant pushed her back and told 
 him that if she preceded him there she would precede 
 him in eternity. 
 
 VEIL IS PARTED. 
 
 All being ready, the attendant gives three gavel raps 
 upon one of the pillars from which the veil is sus- 
 pended. The veil is parted slightly and Elohim from 
 behind the veil asks what is wanted. The attendant 
 replies : 'The man Adam, having been true and faith- 
 ful in all things, desires to converse with the Lord be- 
 hind the veil." The attendant prompts the candidate 
 in his answers and grips, sometimes rehearsing the 
 whole matter before Elohim takes the neophyte in hand. 
 
 The neophyte gives the two grips of the Aaronic 
 priesthood, with their accompanying name, also the first 
 grip and name of the Melchisedec priesthood. He then 
 gives the second grip of the Melchisedec priesthood. 
 
 Elohim — What is this ? 
 
 Neophyte — The second Grip of the Melchisedec 
 priesthood. Patriarchal Grip, or Sure Sign of the 
 Nail. 
 
 138 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 Elohim — Has it a name ? 
 
 Neophyte — It has. 
 
 Elohim — Will you give it to me? 
 
 Neophyte — I cannot, for I have not yet received it ; 
 for this purpose I have come to converse with the Lord 
 behind the veil. 
 
 Elohim — You shall receive it upon the five points of 
 fellowship through the veil. These are : foot to foot, 
 knee to knee, breast to breast, hand to back, and mouth 
 to ear. 
 
 WHISPERS TO CANDIDATE. 
 
 Having placed the candidate in proper position, he 
 whispers : 
 
 ''Health in the navel, marrow in the bones, strength 
 in the loins and sinews, and power in the priesthood be 
 upon me and my posterity through all generations of 
 time and throughout eternity." 
 
 The neophyte repeats this until he has it perfectly, 
 and then stands back, while the attendant raps once 
 more three times upon the pillar. 
 
 Elohim — What is wanted ? 
 
 Attendant— Adam, having conversed with the Lord 
 through the veil, now desires to be admitted to His 
 presence. 
 
 Elohim — Admit him. 
 
 As he says this, Elohim extends his hand and gives 
 the novitiate a warm welcome. 
 
 The man now assumes the part of Elohim and in- 
 structs his women, even as he has been instructed him- 
 self, admitting them behind the veil when they are 
 prepared. 
 
 HANDSOMEST ROOM IN THE TEMPLE. 
 
 The room which is now entered is one of the most 
 139 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 beautiful in the Temple ; it has rich carpets, elegant fit- 
 tings and upholstery, and opening from it are the 
 Sealing-rooms — small, and furnished in gold and white. 
 
 In the main room is a table at which sits the re- 
 corder, having before him the records of those who 
 have just been through the Temple, and also the li- 
 censes of those who have taken out the document which 
 is required by the laws of the State before a marriage 
 ceremony can be performed. 
 
 The man and the woman who are to be married 
 then pass into the Sealing-room, with such invited 
 guests as they may desire to have with them. They are 
 dressed in the Temple robes complete. 
 
 IN SEALING-ROOM. 
 
 In the middle of the Sealing-room is an altar of 
 white, having on it a white velvet cushion, and on each 
 side of it are kneeling-stools. Sitting opposite one 
 end of the table is the man who performs the sealing 
 ceremony, usually the president or acting president of 
 the Temple. On each side of him is a witness. These 
 three men are clothed in white suits, the same that they 
 have been wearing through the Temple ceremonies. 
 The candidates now kneel, one on each side of the altar, 
 and clasp their hands in the Patriarchal Grip. The 
 presiding elder asks them if they take each other for 
 man and wife, for time and eternity, and, having re- 
 ceived a satisfactory answer, unites and blesses them 
 for time and eternity, promising a numerous posterity 
 and all the blessings in the celestial kingdom that rea- 
 sonable people could desire. 
 
 This being finished, they are told to kiss each other 
 across the altar. They then unclasp hands, and the 
 
 140 
 
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 ceremony is completed. They return to their dressing- 
 rooms, put on the clothing that they wore to the Tem- 
 ple, and the day's work is over. 
 
 Professor Wolfe has just told of the ritual, the 
 oath, and the ceremonies in the Mormon Temple. It 
 was a most interesting s-tory. It confirms in remark- 
 able degree an expose of the ceremonies in the Endow- 
 ment House of many years ago, as printed by The 
 Tribune, and also President Smith's testimony that 
 there had been no change in the proceedings. The old 
 Endowment House expose is as follows : 
 
 The Mormon Endowment House is a plain adobe 
 building, two stories high, built like a small dwelling- 
 house, so as not to attract attention. There are blinds 
 to all the windows, which are nearly always kept down. 
 It is situated in the northwest corner of the Temple 
 block (which includes the Tabernacle, New Temple, 
 etc.), and the whole block is surrounded by a very high 
 wall. 
 
 On a certain day, not necessary to mention, I went to 
 the Endowment House at eight o'clock in the morning, 
 taking with me my endowment clothes (consisting of 
 garments, robe, cap, apron, and moccasins). I be- 
 lieve people used to take their own oil, but that is now 
 discontinued, as fees are charged. I went into a small 
 room attached to the main building (designated in the 
 plan by the name of Reception-room), which was 
 crowded with men and women, having their bundles of 
 clothing. The entrance door is on the east side, and 
 in the southwest corner there is another, next to which 
 
 141 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the desk stood, where the clerk recorded the names, etc. 
 Around the north and west sides were benches for the 
 people to sit. 
 
 On going up to the desk I presented my recommend 
 from the bishop in whose ward I was staying, and 
 George Reynolds, who was then acting as clerk, asked 
 me my name, those of my parents, when and where 
 I was born, and when I was baptized into the Mormon 
 Church. 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 That over, he told me to leave my hat, cloak, and 
 shoes in that room; and, taking up my bundle, I went 
 into the room marked 3 on the plan, where I sat wait- 
 ing my turn till it came my turn to be washed. 
 
 One of the women, an officiating high priestess, told 
 me to come behind the curtain (which I have indicated 
 by a waving line), where I could hear a great deal of 
 splashing and subdued conversation. I went, and 
 after I was undressed I had to step into a long bath, 
 about half-full of water, when another woman proceed- 
 ed to wash me. I objected strongly to this part of the 
 business, but she told me to show a more humble spirit. 
 However, when she got down to my feet she let me go, 
 and I was turned over to the woman who had spoken 
 to me first, and whose name w^as Bathsheba Smith 
 (one of the widows of Apostle George A. Smith). She 
 wore a large, shiny apron, and her sleeves tucked up 
 above her elbows. She looked thoroughly like business. 
 
 Another woman was standing beside her with a large 
 wooden spoon and some green olive oil in a cow's horn. 
 This woman poured the oil out of the spoon into Bath- 
 sheba's hand, who immediately put it on my head, ears, 
 eyes, mouth, and every part of my body, and as she 
 greased me, she muttered a kind of prayer over each 
 member of my body : My head, that I might have 
 a knowledge of the truths of God ; my eyes, that I 
 might see the glories of the kingdom ; my mouth, that 
 I might at all times speak the truth ; my arms, that they 
 miq-ht be strong in defense of the gospel ; my bosom — 
 and here I must ask my readers not to think I want 
 to tell this part of the story, but I do want people to 
 know the truth, and how disgusting and indelicate this 
 thing is. Mormon people deny many of these things, 
 
 143 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 and civilized and decent people can scarcely realize 
 that this institution is as infamous as it really is, but 
 I solemnly assert that these things do exist. To con- 
 tinue : My bosom, that I might nourish the children 
 whom I might raise by my husband (I was not then 
 married, but expected to be), and another part of 
 my body that I might raise up a goodly seed, that 
 they might be pillars of strength to the upbuilding and 
 strengthening of God's kingdom upon the earth. And 
 so she got down to my feet, when she hoped they might 
 be swift in the paths of righteousness and truth. 
 
 She then turned me over to the woman who had 
 washed me, and who whispered 
 
 MY NEW AND CELESTIAL NAME 
 
 in my ear. I believe I am to be called up in the morn- 
 ing of the resurrection by it. It was "Sarah." I felt 
 disappointed. I thought I should have received a more 
 distinguished name. She told me that new name must 
 never be spoken, but often thought of to keep away 
 evil spirits. I should be required to speak it once 
 that day, but she would tell me in what part of the 
 ceremony, and that I should never again have to speak 
 it. She then told me to put on my garments. These 
 are made in one piece. On the right breast is a square, 
 on the left a compass, in the center a small hole, and 
 on the knee a large hole, which is called the "stone." 
 We were told that as long as we kept them on no 
 harm could befall us, and that when we changed them 
 we were not to take them all off at once, but slip out a 
 limb at a time and immediately dive into the clean ones. 
 The neck was never to be cut low, or the sleeves short, 
 as that would be patterning after the fashion of the 
 Gentiles. 
 
 144 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 After this I put on my clothes, and, in my stocking 
 feet, waited with those who were washed and anointed 
 until she had finished the remaining two or three. This 
 done, the little calico curtains (marked A and B) were 
 drawn aside, and the men and women stood revealed to 
 each other. The men looked very uncomfortable and 
 not at all picturesque. They only had their garments 
 and shirts on, and they really did seem as though they 
 were ashamed of themselves, as well they might be. 
 
 APRON. 
 
 (Worn by Men and Women.) 
 
 Joseph F. Smith then came to where we were all 
 waiting, and told us that if we wanted to "back out, 
 now was our time," because we should not be able 
 afterward, and that we were bound to go right through. 
 All those who wanted to go through were to hold up 
 their hands, which, of course, every one did, believing 
 that all the good and holy things that were to be seen 
 and heard in the ''House of the Lord" were yet to 
 come. He then told us that if any of us attempted to 
 reveal what we saw and heard in the ''House" our 
 memories would be blighted, and we should 
 
 145 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN, 
 
 BE EVERLASTINGLY DAMNED, 
 
 for they were things too holy to be spoken of between 
 each other, after we had once left the Endowment 
 House. We were then told to be very quiet and listen. 
 Joseph F. Smith then went away. 
 
 In a few moments we heard voices talking loudly so 
 that the people could hear them in the adjoining room. 
 (I afterward found out in passing through that it 
 was the prayer circle room.) It was supposed to be a 
 conversation between Elohim (Head God) and Je- 
 hovah. The conversation was as follows : 
 
 Elohim to Jehovah — "Well, Jehovah, I think we will 
 create an earth ; let Michael go down and collect all 
 the elements together and found one." 
 
 Answer — ''Very well, O Lord God, it shall be done." 
 
 Then, calling to another man, we could hear him 
 say : 
 
 ''Michael, go down and collect all the elements to- 
 gether and form an earth, and then report to us what 
 you have done." 
 
 Answer — "Very well, O Lord God." 
 
 The man they called Michael then left the prayer 
 circle room and came through the room they called the 
 World, into the Garden of Eden, the door of which was 
 shut that faced the places C and D, where we were 
 standing, listening and waiting. He remained there a 
 second or two, and everything was quiet. At the end 
 of that time we heard him going back the same way, 
 to where Elohim and Jehovah were waiting. When he 
 got back he said: "fhave collected all the elements 
 together and founded an earth ; what wouldst thou 
 have me do next?" Using the same formula every 
 time they sent him down to the world, they then told 
 
 146 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 him to separate the land from the water, Hght from 
 darkness, etc., and so they went regularly through the 
 creation, but they always told him to come up and re- 
 port what he had done. 
 
 When the creation was supposed to be finished, 
 Michael went back and told them it was very fair and 
 beautiful to look upon. Elohim then said to Jehovah 
 that he thought they had better go down and have a 
 look at it, which they did, and agreed with Michael 
 that it was a beautiful place ; that it seemed a pity that 
 it should be of no particular use, but thought it would 
 be a good idea to create man to live in it and cultivate 
 these things. 
 
 DEVIL'S APRON. 
 
 They then came out of the Garden of Eden (which 
 was supposed to have been newly finished) and, shut- 
 ting the door after them, came to where we were stand- 
 ing. We were then told to shut our eyes, and Jehovah 
 said to Michael : "Give me a handful of dust and I 
 will create man." We were then told to open our eyes, 
 and we saw a man that he had taken from the crowd, 
 
 147 
 
 :i!!insi!!n!i!i85ii^n?!' 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 standing beside Jehovah, and to whom Jehovah said : 
 "I shall call thee Adam, for thou shalt be called the 
 father of all mankind." Jehovah then said it was not 
 good for man to be alone, so he would create a woman 
 and a helpmate for him. We were again told to close 
 our eyes, and Adam was requested to go to sleep, which 
 he obligingly did. Jehovah was then supposed to take 
 a rib from Adam's side and form Eve. We were then 
 told to open our eyes and look upon the handiwork 
 of the Lord. When we did, we saw a woman taken 
 from among the crowd who was standing by Adam's 
 side. Jehovah said he would call the woman Eve, 
 because she would be the mother of all mankind. 
 
 THE DOOR OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN 
 
 was then opened and all marched in with our bundles 
 (the men going first, as they always take precedence), 
 and we ranged ourselves round the room on benches. 
 The four sides of this room are painted in imitation 
 of trees, flowers, birds, wild beasts, etc. (The artist 
 who painted the room was evidently more acquainted 
 with whitewashing than painting.) The ceiling was 
 painted blue, dotted over with golden stars; in the 
 center of it was the sun, a little further along the moon, 
 and all around were the stars. In each corner was a ]\Ia- 
 sonic emblem. In one corner is a compass, in another 
 the square ; the remaining two were the level and the 
 plumb. On the east side of the room, next the door, 
 was a painted apple-tree, and in the northern part of 
 the room was a small wooden altar. 
 
 After we had seated ourselves, Jehovah told Adam 
 and Eve that they could eat of every tree in the garden 
 except of this particular apple-tree, for on the day that 
 they ate of that they should surely die. 
 
 148 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 ^ He then took his departure, and immediately after 
 in came a very Hvely gentleman, dressed in a plain 
 black morning-suit, with a little apron on, a most 
 fiendish expression on his face, and joyfully rubbing 
 his hands. This gentleman was supposed to be "the 
 Devil." Certainly his appearance made the supposi- 
 tion quite easy (by the by, I have since seen that same 
 gentleman administering the Sacrament in the Taber- 
 nacle on Sundays). He went up to Eve and remarked 
 that it was a beautiful place, and that the fruit was so 
 nice, would she like to taste one of those apples. She 
 demurred a little, and said she was told not to, and 
 therefore mustn't. But he pretended to pluck one of 
 the painted apples and gave it to her, and she pretended 
 to eat it. He then told her to ask Adam to have some, 
 and she did. Adam objected strongly to testing, know- 
 ing the penalty, but Eve 'eventually overcame his scru- 
 ples, saying: ''Oh, my dear, they're so nice, you haven't 
 any idea, and that nice old gentleman here (pointing 
 to the Devil) says that he can recommend them, and 
 you need not be afraid of what Jehovah says." 
 
 Adam consented, and immediately after he said, "Oh, 
 what^ have I done, and how foolish I was to listen to 
 you." He then said he could see himself, and that 
 they had no clothes on, and that they must sew some 
 fig-leaves together. Every one then made a dive for 
 his apron out of the little bundle. The apron is a 
 square half-yard of green silk with nine fig-leaves 
 worked on it in brown sewing-silk. A voice was then 
 heard calling for Adam, who pretended to hide, when 
 in came Jehovah. He gave Adam a good scolding, 
 but finally told him that he would give him certain in- 
 structions, whereby he would have a chance to regain 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the presence of his Father and God after he was driven 
 out into the world. These instructions consisted of 
 grips, etc., and the garments he wore would protect 
 him from all evil. (Mormons say of these garments 
 that the pattern was revealed direct from Heaven to 
 Joseph Smith, and are the same as were originally 
 worn by Adam.) 
 
 They then put on their caps and moccasins, the 
 women's caps being made of Swiss muslin ; it is one 
 yard square, rounded at one corner so as to fit the 
 head, and there are strings on it which tie under the 
 chin. The moccasins are made of linen or calico. The 
 men's are made exactly like those of pastry cooks, with 
 a bow on the right side. I should here mention, before 
 I go further, that Bathsheba Smith and one of the 
 priests enacted the parts of Adam and Eve, and so 
 stood sponsors for the rest of us, who were individually 
 supposed to be Adams and 'Eves. 
 
 They then proceeded to give us the first grip of the 
 Aaronic or Lesser Priesthood, which consists in put- 
 ting the thumb on the knuckle of the index finger, and 
 clasping the hands round. We were then made to 
 swear 'To obey the laws of the Mormon Church and 
 all they enjoin, in preference to those of the United 
 States." The penalty for revealing this grip and oath, 
 is that you will have your throat cut from ear to ear, 
 and your tongue torn from your mouth, and the sign 
 of the penalty is drawing the hand with the thumb 
 pointing toward the throat sharply across and bring- 
 ing the arm to the level of the square, and, with the 
 hand upraised to Heaven, swearing to abide the same. 
 
 We were then driven out of this into the room called 
 the World, where there were three men standing at a 
 
 150 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 small altar on the east side of the room, who were sup- 
 posed to represent Peter, James, and John, Peter stand- 
 ing in the center. He was supposed to have the keys 
 of heaven. Men representing (or trying to) the dif- 
 ferent religious sects then came in and presented their 
 views and said they wanted to try and save these fallen 
 children. In doing this they could not refrain from 
 exaggerating and coarsely satirizing the different sects 
 they represented. Previous to their coming in, how- 
 ever, Peter had presented to us the gospel of Christ — 
 at least he told us that Christ had come to die for the 
 original sin, but that we had got to work out our own 
 salvation, and that in the last days a prophet should be 
 raised up to save all those that would believe in his 
 divine mission ; consequently these different representa- 
 tives were told that their doctrines did not suit the 
 people and that there was something wanting in their 
 faith and so they could go. Then the Devil came in 
 and tried to allure the people, and, bustling up to the 
 altar, Peter said to him: ''Hello, Mr. Devil, how do 
 you do to-day? It's a very fine day, isn't it? What 
 have you come after?" The Devil replied that he 
 didn't seem to take to any of those so-called Christian 
 religions, why didn't they quit bothering about any- 
 thing of that kind, and live a life of pleasure, etc.? 
 However, he was told to go, and that quickly. 
 
 Peter then gave the second grip of the Aaronic or 
 Lesser Priesthood, which consists of putting the thumb 
 between the knuckles of the index and second fingers 
 and clasping the hand around. The penalty for re- 
 vealing this is to be sawn asunder^ and our members 
 cast into the sea. The sign of the penalty was drawing 
 the hand sharply across the middle of the body. To 
 
 151 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 receive that grip we had to put on our robes, which 
 consisted of a long, straight piece of cloth reaching to 
 our feet, doubled over and gathered very full on the 
 shoulder and round the waist. There was also a long, 
 narrow piece of cloth tied around the waist, called the 
 "sash." It was placed on the right shoulder, to receive 
 
 ent. dres-g room, 
 
 o 
 
 ! 
 
 i If«oeptiwn SounL 
 
 4 ^ HaQjto 
 
 Hatetoboejleft 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I i 
 
 OlBotAlirfio«m> 
 
 S 5 i 
 
 1 
 
 Stalrvay to Veil and SeaTIng ro^tn 
 
 I M IM H I I IIBI HII I I J 
 
 GROUND FLOOR OF THE ENDOWMENT HOUSE. 
 Outer Wall Enclosing Endowment House. 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the grip, the people to wear their apron over it. The 
 men then took the oath of chastity, and the women the 
 same ; they don't consider polygamy at all unchaste, but 
 said that it was an Heaven-ordained law, and that a 
 man to be exalted in the world to come must have 
 more than one wife. The women then took the oath 
 of obedience to their husbands, having to look up to 
 them as their gods. It is not possible for a woman to 
 go to Christ except through her husband. 
 
 Then a man came in and said that the Gospel (which 
 during those few minutes' intervals had laid dormant 
 for 1800 years) had been again restored to earth, and 
 that an angel had revealed it to a young boy named 
 Joseph Smith, and that all the gifts, blessings, and 
 prophecies of old had been restored with it, and this 
 last revelation was to be called the Latter-day Dis- 
 pensation. The priests pretended joyfully to accept 
 this, and said it was the very thing they were in search 
 of, nothing else having had the power to satisfy them. 
 
 They then proceeded to give us the first grip of the 
 Melchizedek or Higher Priesthood, which is said to 
 be the same as Christ held. The thumb is placed on 
 the knuckle of the index finger, which is placed straight 
 along the palm of the hand, while the lower part of 
 the hand is clasped with the remaining fingers. The 
 robe for this grip was changed from the right to the 
 left shoulder. We were then made to swear to avenge 
 the death of Joseph Smith, the martyr, together with 
 that of his brother, Hyrum, on this American nation, 
 and that we would teach our children and children's 
 children to do so. The penalty for this grip and oath 
 was disembowelment. 
 
 153 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 We were then marched into the northeast room (the 
 men, of course, always going first) designated the 
 prayer circle room. We were then made to take an 
 oath of 
 
 OBEDIENCE TO THE MORMON PRIESTHOOD. 
 
 And now the highest or grandest grip of the Mel- 
 chizedek priesthood was given. We clasped each other 
 
 fitalrwaj to Prayer Circle Vipovu 
 
 O o 
 
 ^ © o 
 
 i o o 
 
 gar flage A ltar. <> 
 
 1 
 
 Ilsom- 
 
 I 
 
 < 
 
 
 6ttiIrwWtoW0>'W Room, 
 
 UPPER FLOOR OF THE ENDOWMENT HOUSK 
 
 W — Windows — Steps. 
 
 154 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 round the hand with the point of the index finger rest- 
 ing on the wrist, and httle fingers firmly Hnked to- 
 gether. The place on the wrist where the index finger 
 points is supposed to be the place where Christ was 
 nailed to the cross, but they tore out and He had to be 
 nailed again ; and so you place your second finger be- 
 side the index on the wrist ; it is called the 
 
 SURE SIGN OF THE NAIL. 
 
 And if the grip is properly given, it is very hard to pull 
 apart. The robe was changed from the left to the right 
 shoulder to receive this grip. 
 
 The men then formed a circle round the altar, finking 
 their arms straight across, and placed their hands on 
 one another's shoulders. The priest knelt at the altar 
 and took hold of one of the men's hands and prayed. 
 He told us that the electric current of prayer passed 
 through the circle and that was the most efficacious 
 kind of prayer. The women stood outside the circle 
 with their veils covering their faces, the only time dur- 
 ing the ceremony that they did so. 
 
 The prayer over, they all trooped up the staircase 
 on the north side of the house, into the room called the 
 Instruction Room, where the people sat down on 
 benches on the west side of the room. Facing them 
 about midway between floor and ceiling was a wooden 
 beam that went across the room from north to south, 
 and from which was suspended a dirty-looking piece 
 of what was once white calico. This was called ''the 
 Veil," and is supposed to be in imitation of the one 
 in Solomon's Temple. On this veil are marks like 
 those on the garments, together with extra holes for 
 putting the arms through. But before going through 
 
 155 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the veil, we received a general outline of the instruc- 
 tions we had received down-stairs. This over, the 
 priest took a man to the veil to one of the openings 
 (marked i), where he knocked with a small wooden 
 mallet that hung on the wooden support. A voice on 
 the other side of the veil (it was supposed to be 
 Peter's) asked who was there, when the priest, answer- 
 ing for the man, said : "Adam, having been faithful, 
 desires to enter." The priest then led the man up to 
 the west side of the veil, where he had to put his hands 
 
 THE ROBE. 
 156 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 through and clasp the man, or Peter (to whom he whis- 
 pered his new name, and the only one he ever tells, for 
 they must never tell their celestial names to their wives, 
 although the wives must tell theirs to their husbands) 
 through the holes in the veil. He was then allowed to 
 go through to the other side, which was supposed to 
 be heaven, and this is where a strong imagination must 
 be of some use, for anything more unlike heaven I 
 can't conceive. The man having got through, he went 
 to the opening (No. 2) and told the gatekeeper to call 
 for the woman he was about to marry, telling him her 
 name. She then stepped up to the veil where the 
 marks "B" are. They couldn't see each other, but put 
 their hands through the openings, one of their hands on 
 each other's shoulder and the other around the waist. 
 (The marks on the plan at the sides are for the arms, 
 and all the marks in the plan on the veil are exactly 
 as they are in the Endowment House. The top round 
 mark is the place where they spoke through, and the 
 square, compass, and stone correspond with the marks 
 on the garments ; the two bottom marks were where the 
 feet are put through), with the arms so fixed; the 
 knees were placed within each other, the feet, of 
 course, being the same ; the woman's given name was 
 then whispered through the veil, then her new and 
 celestial name, then the priestess who stood by to in- 
 struct the women told them to repeat after her a most 
 disgusting formula or oath. I cannot remember it 
 thoroughly, but what I do, consists of ''the heart and 
 the liver, the belly and the thighs, the marrow and the 
 bones." The last and highest grip of the ^lelchizedek 
 priesthood was then given through the veil. 
 
 They then released their hold of each other, and the 
 
 157 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 priestess, taking the woman to opening No. 2, knocked 
 the same as they did at the men's entrance, and the 
 gatekeeper having asked, ''Who is there?" and the 
 priestess, having repHed, "Eve, having been faithful 
 in all things, desires to enter," Eve was accordingly 
 ushered into heaven. 
 
 Before I go further I must tell how they believe the 
 entrance into heaven is to be gained on the morning 
 of the resurrection. Peter will call up the men and 
 women (for it is not possible for a woman to be resur- 
 rected or exalted, or to be made a queen in heaven, 
 unless some man takes pity on her and raises her). If 
 
 WOMAN'S CAP AND MOCCASIN. 
 158 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the marks on the garments are found to correspond 
 with those on the veil (the dead are buried in the 
 whole paraphernalia), if you can give the grips and 
 tokens, and your new name, and you are dressed prop- 
 erly in your robes, why, then, one has a sure permit 
 to heaven, and will pass by the angels (who, they sup- 
 pose, are to be only ministering servants) to a more 
 exalted glory; the more wives they have, they think, 
 the higher their glory will be. 
 
 To resume : x\fter we got through, we saw Joseph 
 F. Smith sitting at a table recording the names of 
 those who were candidates for marriage. He wrote 
 the names in a book (the existence of which marriage 
 register this truthful apostle has since denied, so that a 
 polygamous marriage might not be found out) and 
 then he wrote the two names on a slip of paper, to be 
 taken into the sealing-room to the officiating priest, so 
 that he might know whom he was marrying. After 
 having given this slip of paper to the priest (Daniel 
 H. Wells), we knelt at a little wooden altar (they are 
 all alike in the Endowment House). He then asks the 
 man if he is willing to take the woman to wife, and the 
 woman if she is willing to take him for a husband. 
 They both having answered yes, he tells the man that 
 he must look to God, but the woman must look to her 
 husband as her God, for if he lives his religion, the 
 spirit of God will be in him, and she must therefore 
 yield him unquestioning obedience, for he is as a god 
 unto her, and then concludes that he, having authority 
 from on high, to bind and loose here upon earth, and 
 whatsoever he binds here shall be bound in heaven, 
 seals the man and woman 
 
 159 
 
 '!i:?B8aa8HSiB)?ip«}HjnHfinnRRnOTn!mn 
 
THE REVELATION IN THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 FOR TIME AND ALL ETERNITY. 
 
 He then tells the man and woman to kiss each other 
 across the altar, the man kneeling on the north side 
 and the woman on the south, and so it is finished. 
 Sometimes they have witnesses, sometimes not ; if they 
 think any trouble may arise from a marriage or that 
 the woman is inclined to be a little perverse, they have 
 no witnesses, neither do they give marriage certificates, 
 and if occasion requires it, and it is to shield any of 
 their polygamous brethren from being found out, they 
 wdll positively swear that they did not perform any 
 marriage at all, so that the women in this church have 
 but a very poor outlook for being considered honorable 
 wives. 
 
 When the marriage ceremony was over we came out 
 of the *'sealing-room," and I crossed "Heaven" into 
 the ladies' dressing-room, where, after having dressed 
 and my husband paid the fees, we took our departure, 
 together with that of the "Holy Spirit." 
 
 MAN'S CAR 
 
 I hope that this article may prove of some use in 
 warning and enlightening people as to that most 
 HORRID BLASPHEMY, jargou, and mummery that goes 
 on in that most sacred "House of the Lord." 
 
 MRS. G. S. R . 
 
 THE END. 
 
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