new any one with more. It was quite a European
misjudgment that many followed Brigham Young's doctrine, which never had
been Joseph Smith's,--and the present chief, Taylor, had but one. He
showed us many cabinet photographs of Salt Lake City, his own family,
leading Mormons, and the like: especially of the Old Tabernacle, like a
monstrous tortoise, and one from a finished drawing of the new, of even
more tasteless architecture, being the most gigantic piece of
perpendicular ever perpetrated, and full of unsightly windows. When
asked about the golden book,--well he had never seen it, but believed in
it thoroughly; because all the twelve apostles had seen it and he
trusted their testimony. Eleven of those apostles were now dead, one
only surviving. (Just as with our friends of Mr. Irving's sect at
Albury, which arose in the same year as Mormonism.) We had never set
eyes on the originals of our own Scriptures--in fact, they did not
exist--but believed the witnessing of others, as he did. He himself was
not a missionary, but would go if he was sent by the Church; though he
mightn't like it, he was bound to, obey, authority, &c. &c.

I had plenty more talk with him, and found him intelligent, modest, and
in every way a remarkably agreeable young fellow: and I added to my
mental _repertoire_ of better judgments that on Mormonism,--even as
heretofore Mr. Sinnett has taught me not utterly to despise Buddhism,
Dr. Wilkinson to revere Swedenborgianism, and a few other people I might
name who are true believers, to be charitable as to other sorts of
strange isms: once I met a very religious clergyman who still held by
Johanna Southcote; and we have all heard how Lady Hester Stanhope had an
Arab horse always ready saddled for Messiah when He is to ride into
Jerusalem; and how some other person had a gold spoon and fork laid
daily at his table for the sudden coming of a Divine Guest! Our personal
lesson is to be tolerant of all manner of innocent enthusiasms, to hear
both sides and bear with all opinions,--sometimes finding to our
astonishment that black sheep may after all be whiter than they looked,
and that uncharitable prejudice is but another name for ignorant folly.
Before taking leave of my Mormon guest, I ought to report that he was
teetotal, handsome, taciturn rather than talkative, a hunter among the
Rockies, an author himself, and of course an old book-friend, so I made
him happy with some autographic poetries.

With ref