Chapter VI

“Alas! the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing;
For all of theirs upon that die is thrown:
And if ’tis lost, life has no more to bring
To them but mockeries of the past alone.”
—Byron.

The preliminary examination of Adam Joyce on the charge of ‘Assault with criminal intent’ did not consume a great deal of the court’s time next day. Soon after he was lodged in jail he had sent for one of those clever pettifoggers who thrive on the garbage of the slums in nearly all our cities, and who form the most effectual barrier against justice that exists in any country. The judge offered to let him go if he could procure bail, but, as there was then nobody at hand who could oblige him, he talked through the bars to Mr. Amicus Fish, the minion of the law he had summoned to his rescue. He chose this gentleman for the reason that he had known him to get many a rascal out of a scrape; for Joyce, it appears, had been a frequent attendant at the police court, and was especially delighted when a known black-leg went scot free owing to some trick or quibble of the legal jackanapes who defended him.

The court-room was crowded at an early hour, chiefly by the rabble who had amused themselves at the expense of the Mormon in the market place, and by a miscellaneous audience that had come to get a look at “the fiery genius,” who, as the morning papers announced, turned out to be only a Mormon missionary, and the first one who had been seen in Cleveland for a long time. They said no more about rewarding him for his bravery.

Justice Coles was noted for a learned conscientiousness in the discharge of his trying duties, and the city, to emphasize its appreciation of his services, had recently reelected him for a fourth time to a post in which he had given complete satisfaction to all except the criminal element. He was an honor to the magistracy of first instance in our country.

Father Taine and Mark came in with Spencer, and shortly afterwards the Justice took his place on the bench and the case of Adam Joyce was called. Spencer as prosecuting witness was first sworn and put upon the stand, and, by direction of the Justice made a full statement of the case, substantially as recorded in the first chapter of this history.

“Are you able to identify the man whom you found committing this assault? Do you see him in this court-room?” asked the Judge.

Joyce had not been placed in the prisoners box, but sat with his lawyer and a number of friends and sympathizers who grouped themselves about him near the attorney’s tables. Spencer had selected him as he went up to be sworn, and replied promptly:—

“Yes. It is he whom I denounced yesterday, the large thick-set man there with the dark stubble on his face, caused by the recent cutting off of the heavy beard he wore on the day of the assault. The name he gave, Adam Joyce, corresponds with the initials “A.J.” on the handle of this knife, which I found on his person while he was lying stunned.” He handed the ugly-looking weapon to the bailiff who placed it on the Judge’s desk. Justice Coles watched the face of the prisoner while the witness was speaking, and was fully assured by what he saw there, that the Mormon had denounced the right man.

“Adam Joyce what have you to say in answer to this charge?” asked the Judge, slowly.

“It’s all a lie yer honor!” cried Joyce, springing to his feet.

“Hush! sit down,” said Mr. Amicus Fish to his client, in a tone of suppressed reprimand, as he rose with bantam dignity to address the court.

“I beg your honor’s pardon for this irregular outburst of righteous indignation on the part of my client. If your honor please, we plead “Not guilty” and I shall prove in a few moments, to the entire satisfaction of the court, that this is one of the plainest cases of mistaken identity—if not one in which malice is the sole instigator—that ever occurred in this country. My client is fortunately safe from this malicious Mormon’s attempt to ruin him, and the circumstance supplies a striking instance of how Providence protects the innocent from the schemes of the wicked. We have here several respectable and disinterested witnesses whose evidence will establish an alibi that cannot be overthrown: not even the Mormon prophet himself with all his power of performing miracles could make this vile charge stand against a citizen so manifestly blameless; a citizen indeed, who is a favorite with all who know him, an honest laboring man who earns his living by the sweat of his brow, and not by playing the part of a prowling sponge, a blood-sucking vampire, like his miserable accuser.”

Judge Coles listened patiently to Mr. Fish’s remarks, and many among the audience thought that the dismissal of the charge was a certainty.

Several witnesses were called, among whom was the proprietor of the Pontiac Tavern. After being sworn, five of them in succession testified that they were with Joyce at the Tavern on Sunday from early in the forenoon until after midnight, and that he was not out of their sight during that time. One of these witnesses was the keeper of the tavern, who in reply to a question by the Judge said that the Pontiac Tavern was a well known and popular hostelry in the southern suburbs of the city, a favorite resort for hucksters, teamsters and others who were fond of good cheer at moderate cost. The attractions offered consisted of bowling-alley, billiards, cards, and such other amusements as customers might require, to say nothing of the choicest beverages to be had anywhere, and the best brands of tobacco in the country. He spoke glibly, like one availing himself of an occasion to advertise his establishment, and had the appearance of being an assiduous patron of the wares he praised.

The Judge had taken the precaution to have but one of these witnesses in the Court room at a time, and noted that each of them had a different recollection as to the weather on Sunday. Other discrepancies, no less marked, occurred in their evidence except as to the one question of Joyce’s whereabouts. Mr. Fish was visibly disturbed by the Judge’s questions and his witnesses’ answers; but without commenting upon their variations, the Judge saw which way the wind blew, and again called Spencer to the stand.

“Have you any further evidence to offer in support of this charge?” the Judge demanded.

“As I have before said,” replied the Mormon, “I was the only witness besides the young lady herself; but, notwithstanding the evidence we have heard, I am still perfectly confident that this is the man. The rough-cut initials, “A. J.” on the handle of that knife are one of the chief supports of my evidence, unless Miss Taine is summoned. But I shall be willing to confess that I am mistaken, if, on examination by a doctor, there is not found on that man’s head the mark of the blow the young lady dealt him when he was trying to kill me.”

A good deal of commotion both among the audience and among those who surrounded Joyce, was caused by this speech. Mr. Fish was seen to hold a quiet conference with the accused, and the latter made a lunge as if he would like to come near the witness. It was some time before order was restored, and then Attorney Fish was allowed to have his say:—

“Your honor,” said he, buttoning his rather seedy-looking black-coat and taking a handkerchief from a pocket in one of its long tails, “I object, as every civilized man must, to this bare-faced defiance of this court, this attempted insult to honest men who have given their testimony under oath, though they are all men whose word would pass current where the pretended saint’s bond would be ignored. I am surprised, as I have no doubt you are yourself, at the studied insolence of the Mormonite; a miserable vagabond who is, at best, but a wandering disseminator of infamy, the only effect of whose character and teachings is to make us blush that such creatures belong to our kind and pass for men! I need scarcely point out to your honor the drift of his contumacy and malevolence, it is as plain as the light of day. My client was one of a party of young fellows, who, in the exuberance of youth which we all admire, played a practical joke upon him, and now he seeks to revenge himself by denouncing him as the vilest criminal. Does not your honor recognize in this the spirit of Simon-pure Mormonism? I most emphatically assert that I do; and will here confess what I am heartily ashamed of, that I once belonged to the sect myself and left because such was its spirit. As to the initials, the witnesses who know the accused have declared to your honor that they never saw such a weapon in his possession; it is therefore most probable that it belongs to this Mormon, and that he put the letters on it since he heard the name of my client yesterday. Indeed, sir, I assure you that they bear a very striking resemblance to the Mormon hieroglyphics invented by Joe Smith, and were certainly never cut by my client, who is, himself, something of a carver on wood.” (Mr. Fish probably referred to carving quarters of beef on the butcher’s block. His joke sent a titter round the room, and some of his most pronounced admirers even clapped their hands.) The interruption lasted but a moment and he went on:

“This charge has not a leg to stand on; and must my client be subjected to further outrage and humiliation before this court and before the world, after it has been clearly shown that he was more than a mile from the scene of the alleged assault during the entire day of its alleged occurrence? We protest most solemnly, your honor,” continued the lawyer with melo-dramatic gravity. “The mark of a blow on the head, indeed! Who knows but what this latter-day-saint made a mark on this gentleman’s head in yesterday’s melee with a view to bringing it up now as an evidence of crime? Certain it is that my client was knocked down and severely injured—”

“The court is informed of that circumstance,” observed the judge. “And the witness was not the one who struck him.”

“But can the court say that the witness did not kick my client on the head after he was down? I will only observe that the Mormon has taken the wrong bull by the horns; we are watching him and have it in our power to bring his malice home to him with compound interest!”

The judge interrupted to send the bailiff for the City Physician whose office was in the same building.

Mr. Fish then proceeded:—

“If the court please, I will here state that we have every reason to believe that the accused was brutally kicked on the head by this witness when he was lying on the ground in an unconscious state. I am assured of this by gentlemen who are present, and who inform me that the witnesses of the fact may be found if the case be adjourned until to-morrow. I have, therefore, to request that the case may be held over until three o’clock to-morrow afternoon.”

“One moment, Mr. Fish,” said Judge Coles. He then called Mark Kilbourne for the prosecution, and had him sworn. He testified as to the conduct of Spencer after Joyce was knocked down in the market place, declaring that he stood some distance from the fallen man talking to Dr. Taine who was untying his pinioned arms.

Mr. Fish made a faint attempt to badger the witness, but quickly perceived his disadvantage, and Mark was excused.

The judge next called Dr. Taine, who stated positively that Mr. Spencer was at least fifteen feet from the defendant when the latter was knocked down, and that he did not go near him either while on the ground or afterwards.

“Very well,” said the Justice, quietly, after he had excused Dr. Taine. “I find, Mr. Fish, that I cannot adjourn this case until I have had your client’s head examined by Dr. Black. He is an expert in such matters, and I understand you to admit that the defendant has marks of recent injury on his head?”

“Any man may have such marks, your honor, but can they be made an evidence of guilt where an alibi of the most conclusive kind has been proven? It is not because we fear the result of the examination, your honor—oh! no! far from it!—It is because we respect the dignity, the sacredness of Justice, that benign goddess who rules triumphant in the courts of this free and enlightened land, that we protest against the examination of this gentleman’s head, who stands before your honor, and before the universe, as an innocent, I may say an immaculate citizen; one whose only offense appears to be (according to the evidence) that he has incurred the enmity of a Mormon, a rebel sympathizer, whose spleen is tickled by the spectacle of the stars and stripes trampled in the mire, while his victim is ready to give his life in the defense of that glorious banner of liberty! Tried before a jury on such trumpery evidence, this outraged gentleman would be acquitted instantly; but my own anxiety about the case is wholly patriotic: I do not like, in this critical time, to see the state lavishing her declining revenues in useless and unjust prosecutions. I therefore move that the case be dismissed, and that these plaintiffs be assessed in the costs.” A portion of the audience applauded Mr. Fish as he took his seat. The Judge gravely informed the offenders that if there was any further interruption the court-room should be cleared.

He then cited certain legal maxims, at the conclusion of which he ruled Mr. Fish’s motion out of order, and said that the examination must be concluded there and then. Finally he again interrogated the Elder, who had not left the witness stand.

“Can you inform the Court about where Miss Taine struck her assailant—whereabouts on the head? on either side, the back, or on the forehead? And did she strike him more than once? The stick must have sought out a tender spot to enable a frightened girl so to paralyze an able-bodied man.”

“She struck him but one blow; and as his face was close to mine at the time, it must have fallen on the back part of his head,” said the Mormon. He was then excused, and the Judge ordered the defendant to come forward.

Dr. Black arrived, was sworn, and proceeded to examine the prisoner’s cranium, which was covered with short, spiky, black hair.

“There is a slight swelling, and an ugly contused wound, much discolored, about an inch and a half back of the right ear,” said the doctor examining the wound carefully.

“How would you say that wound had been inflicted, Dr. Black?” asked the Judge.

“Possibly by a fall against something no harder than wood, or by the kick of an unshod horse; but from its close resemblance to the effect produced by a policeman’s baton, of which I have studied a great number, I am of opinion that it was inflicted by some kind of a round wooden club.”

The judge was the more impressed by this statement as the doctor had not heard the evidence, and probably did not know what case was before the court.

“You insist that it was caused by some instrument of wood—But why of wood?” asked the Judge.

“Because such a blow with an iron weapon would have cut the scalp—would probably have killed the man, in fact.”

“How long a time has elapsed, do you suppose, since the wound was received? Was it done yesterday?”

“No, sir,” replied the doctor, taking another look at Joyce’s pate, “That wound is of at least four or five days standing.”

Mr. Fish attempted to cross examine him, but finding that he was not likely to elicit anything to help his case, he sat down, and the doctor withdrew.

Judge Coles then summed up the case in a few choice sentences, and remanded Joyce for the consideration of the Grand Jury, fixing his bail at $2,000. The inn-keeper and a well-to-do butcher signed his bond, and he left the station with them.

The persons interested in the prosecution had gone out as soon as the Judge gave his decision. They still dwelt upon the case as they walked along, and Mark gave it as his opinion that while much more evidence might be brought before the Grand Jury, it would be advisable if not absolutely necessary to have the villain confronted and identified by Hagar herself.

At Chestnut Grove, the day was occupied by Mrs. Taine in mapping out her own little comedy. Dr. Taine had told the household on the previous evening about the scene he and Mark had witnessed in the market place, and their discovery that the mysterious young man who had proved a sort of nine days wonder was nothing more remarkable than a Mormon missionary. Had he announced him as a boa constrictor, Mrs. Taine could not have been more horrified, for there was not a word in the language which struck such a discord in that lady’s being as “Mormon;” to her it signified all that was detestable. But after her first surprise had subsided she had occasion to reflect that in the present case even a Mormon might prove of some value. She had been aware that Hagar was thinking pretty seriously about the wounded man in the city hospital; that she had written him a sympathetic note and sent some flowers which Dr. Taine had delivered to him before he learned who he was. “But the fellow being a Mormon,” she chuckled with satisfaction, “has entirely spoilt him in her eyes—at least so it seems and so I hope; but as old Universality must needs bring him here to-night, I will make sure before he comes.”

As early as possible, and when Mr. Smiles was out for his morning walk, the old lady called Hagar into the sitting room and lectured her on the Mormons and their practices with as much gravity as had characterized the Judge of the police court. Hagar looked grave, but said nothing. The simple mention of the young man’s religion had begun to blur the image of him which her fancy and her gratitude had painted on her heart: Mrs. Taine’s criticisms seemed to erase it altogether: For, to the average citizen, the Mormon was as much a social pariah as the negro. It must be admitted that Hagar felt very much disappointed to find her ideal of gallant bravery reduced to so unheroic a figure; but she was rather vexed than grieved by the circumstance, and seemed quite willing to listen to whatever Mrs. Taine wished to say.

Having praised Mr. Smiles to the skies as the most noble, exemplary and talented man she had ever met, the old lady told Hagar plainly that he was desperately in love with her, and had been so ever since his former visit:—

“In fact,” said she, with unwonted kindness in her tone, “that’s what has brought him here and that is why you find me so much more your friend than formerly; though you must confess that it was your own fault that we were ever anything but the best of friends. But, like true Christians, we will let by-gones be by-gones. Mr. Smiles has asked me for your hand, which is sufficient proof that I have said everything in your favor.”

Hagar blushed and was visibly embarrassed; but after a few moments’ pause she said with a faint smile:

“I fear that is too much good fortune to be thought of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why to gain so good a husband and yourself for a friend as if by magic. I am afraid you are only making fun of me, Ma’am Taine.”

“Indeed, I was never more in earnest. I admit that his estimation of you has somewhat altered mine; but, if I have been sparing of my favors to you alone, it will be my pleasure to make amends now that you have become necessary to his happiness.” The old lady drooped her eyelids and twirled her thumbs nervously for a moment and then added:

“Of course, if such a man had met me at the proper time of life, I should not find it necessary to do as I now intend. But, regrets are vain,” she said abruptly after a moment’s pause; “As I am to tell Mr. Smiles your answer, what shall it be?”

“I hardly know,” replied Hagar, pensively, “He has said nothing to me about it—he has not told me that he—he loved me.”

“That’s probably because he wanted to find out if you cared for anybody else; for he insisted that you would be sure to fall in love with the man who saved you. He had more hope the moment he heard this person was a Mormon, as he did not think it possible that you would throw yourself away upon such a creature, even if we would permit it; for what woman in the possession of her wits would choose to go into the far West to drudge as a washwoman and cook amongst a lot of scare crows who are fit for nothing better? You’d have to become a Mormon, too, whether you believe in it or not, for these people, like the Jews, are not allowed to take even a concubine out of their own church. You must answer ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Mr. Smiles will be very unhappy until he knows what his fate is to be.”

“Won’t you tell me, Ma’am Taine, which you think I should say?” asked Hagar, with palpable emotion.

“‘Yes’ of course, you silly girl. You will never have such an offer again.”

“But what will Father Taine say?”

“Leave that to me. To convince you of the extent to which I am studying your welfare, I will tell you that I shall immediately deed at least $200,000 of my estate to Mr. Smiles. You will reap the benefit of my munificence, and I will call you my daughter and him my son. My purpose is, after you are married early in the Spring, to sail for England at once, taking both of you with me, of course. Mr. Smiles is a splendid linguist, and was abroad with his parents when a child. But becoming reduced in circumstances, he has never been able to gratify his taste for foreign travel and culture—while I, poor woman, have been compelled to stay cooped up in this dreary place for want of an escort. After a few months in Great Britain, we shall proceed to the Continent, and remain abroad until this horrid war is ended. You can surely answer now?”

Mrs. Taine expected an enthusiastic acceptance, and was angry and disgusted when Hagar declared that she must first ask the advice of Father Taine.

“I thank you for your kindness, Ma’am Taine, and I don’t mind admitting to you that I like Mr. Smiles very well—I scarcely know how well! But it would be very hard to leave Father Taine,” exclaimed Hagar, clasping her hands over her face, and bursting into tears.

“Well,” said Mrs. Taine disdainfully, “whatever it’s to be, don’t let’s have any sniveling about it!”

While she was speaking Mr. Smiles came in.

“Ah, Miss Hagar, what’s the matter? As they say in the play, ‘wherefore these tears?’”

“It is certainly a strange time to weep when everybody wants to make you happy,” said Mrs. Taine, severely.

At this Hagar endeavored to brush away her tears, excusing herself by some reference to Dr. Taine, which was rendered incoherent by her sobs.

“Of course,” said Mr. Smiles, “you understand, my dear Mrs. Taine, that this matter must not be mentioned to Dr. Taine yet awhile, not, in fact, till I give the signal. It is rather sudden, and he will think better of it if brought to his notice later on.”

“You are quite right: discretion is most needful in such cases,” echoed Mrs. Taine.

A look from the young minister was sufficient to remind her of important duties in another part of the house, and she quickly disappeared, leaving the young people alone together.

Mr. Smiles was not the man to be at a loss for something to say in any emergency, and he proved his talent by making himself especially agreeable and interesting to the young girl he had resolved to win. She soon became quite merry under the influence of his lively sallies, and was particularly amused by a verbal picture he sketched for her of himself as the champion of true religion, engaged in a deadly combat against the Mormon heretic, and herself as the fair prize which was to fall to the lot of the victor. She did not leave him in doubt that her own sympathy would be with the champion of true religion; perhaps she was too eager to make that clear, and suspected as much herself, for she retreated so far as to say:

“But, perhaps I am wrong; for, did you not say the other day that I ought to love the man who preserved to me the power of loving?”

“Ah! yes, but we were not then in possession of the information that he is a Mormon who probably has half a dozen wives already.”

It was a glorious day and Hagar accepted his invitation to come out and play croquet. Everything considered it is not surprising that James Taine was entirely forgotten at dinner time by his usually sedulous attendant, who had never experienced so much pleasure in the game of croquet as it now afforded her. Mr. Smiles was conversing all the while in his delightful way; at one moment recounting some strange story about the war or the Mormons; and then, quickly shifting the scene he would land her among the wonders and beauties of the European capitals, of which he sketched so realistic a panorama that the bewildered Hagar almost fancied herself among the scenes he was describing.

At dinner she ate very little, and withdrew to her room saying that she would renew the game, as Mr. Smiles requested, a little later in the afternoon.

On her way upstairs she suddenly remembered her neglect of the invalid, and when she reached the landing saw Maria coming out of his room with a tray in her hand. In answer to her questions the housemaid replied that she had taken him some dinner as directed by the missus, but that Mr. Taine refused to eat.

Hagar felt deeply hurt, and as soon as Maria left her, began to cry. Her memory went back to a time when she was ill: how kind and thoughtful James had been to her; how patiently he had waited upon her, and with what gentle solicitude he brought and urged her to take every delicacy her palate fancied and the doctor allowed! These thoughts stung her to the quick, for she told herself that a selfish distraction had made her neglect the one who had been so careful never to slight her.

As soon as she could sufficiently control her feelings, she went into James’s room and found him very pale. He turned his eyes toward her sadly as she approached, but did not extend his hand as usual.

“I hope you are not feeling worse, James; though you certainly look so,” said she, nervously, as she stroked his brow with her soft little hand.

She stayed and talked with him for some time and thought she had never seen him in such a despondent mood. To her it seemed very likely that he had suddenly become worse from his injuries; it did not occur to her that he was suffering more from mental than physical pain; but such was the case. His open window was not so far from the croquet ground as to prevent his hearing her merry laugh and the complacent voice of her companion during their unusually protracted stay. James had already suspected that Hagar admired the parson, but he felt certain now that the case had assumed a far more serious aspect, and that it was probably too late to speak of his own passion which had been fed and encouraged by her recent kindness and attention to him. He was convinced by the circumstance of her neglect that she felt a stronger attraction elsewhere; but his perception had not gone so far as the actual drama had progressed, and he was astonished when in reply to some bitter remark of his concerning the “detached parson,” as he was pleased to call his step-mother’s guest, Hagar replied with exquisite ingenuousness:

“I must tell you, James, that Mr. Smiles is a nice young gentleman: even you will like him when you are better acquainted. He has asked my hand in marriage—and—and—he’s to be my husband.” She hung her head and stammered a little over the last words, and did not raise her eyes until James spoke.

“So soon!” he exclaimed.

“It seems rather sudden; but we became acquainted when Mr. Smiles passed through here in the spring. I think you will be satisfied when you know him better, and find what a clever, agreeable man he is.”

The wounded man left alone, his thoughts were all of her: He had treasured the precious fancy in all his wandering, that sometime Hagar would be his wife; and in finding that she had given her heart to a stranger felt an incalculable pang. This parson’s name sounded uncanny to his ear; and his one visit to the sick-room had convinced the invalid that the name was suited to the man.

James divined that his step-mother had suggested Hagar’s course, and he had seen enough of human nature to know the vanity of opposition. But he determined to mention it to his father, as he might never detect what was going forward until it reached a climax if those concerned had any motive for acting quietly.

Dr. Taine came home somewhat earlier than usual, bringing the young Mormon with him, and Charles Spencer was introduced to Mrs. Taine, Hagar and Mr. Smiles directly. The situation was a somewhat trying one to the unsophisticated young Saint, who was accustomed to only the most primitive social arrangements, and appeared in his plain, ill-fitting, homespun suit, his coarse cow-hide shoes and slouched hat, very much like a farm-hand dressed in his best to attend a country fair. The most that Mrs. Taine could do was to patronize him in a manner to add to his discomfort; but Hagar endeavored to be gracious, and Mr. Smiles quickly brought his fine tact to the rescue and soon succeeded in placing the young barbarian at his ease. Dr. Taine also did his part to produce this happy result, and when his protege was fairly reconciled to his surroundings, hastened up stairs to see James.

After affectionate inquiries, his father asked if he would like to see Mr. Spencer at once, or if he preferred to receive him next morning.

“I want to see him presently;” said James—“But, wait a moment, father,” he added, as the doctor turned to go. “I want to ask you if you have heard the news.”

“The news!—what news?”

“Why, that Hagar is going to marry this man Smiles.”

“I have heard nothing of it; may I ask who has informed you?” demanded the doctor, with concern.

“Hagar, herself.”

“Then I shall hear of it in time, no doubt.”

“That you hear of it now is opposed, I believe, to Mr. Smiles’s intention. Hagar betrayed it inadvertently to me. I think you will hear nothing of it unless you inquire.”

The young journalist was quite right; the doctor heard nothing.

He found the group down stairs greatly interested in the Mormon, who was giving them an account of an Indian attack made in the Black Hills upon the party with which he had crossed the plains. Hagar was by far the most attentive and appreciative member of the audience, and even regarded the stranger with genuine admiration. His face was smooth- shaven with good features: his eyes almost black, restless and full of fire, played an effective part in his conversation, which was delivered with animation, in tolerably correct phrase, and in a clear voice that was not unmusical. For the rest, he was of good manly height, full chested, and of the lithe, wiry build which can defy much exposure, privation and fatigue. Mrs. Taine thought his head too large; but in fact, it was remarkably symmetrical as Mr. Smiles told Hagar, and the appearance of being slightly out of proportion was caused by his thick shock of long wavy hair.

At supper, which was a plain but substantial meal, consisting of ham and eggs, vegetables, the regulation mush and milk, and delicious home-made bread, butter and preserves, the saint ate with unabashed avidity, and an innocent disregard for conventionalities which amused Mr. Smiles, pained Hagar, and literally dumbfounded Mrs. Taine. The doctor seemed as unconscious that anything was wrong as the culprit himself, and the latter, while giving most flattering accounts of the well-being and the rapid progress of his people, jarred the nerves of his hostess by omitting to masticate his food with his mouth closed, and by shoveling up with his knife whatever was placed before him. The old lady was mentally asking herself “what next!” when to her horror the missionary deliberately poured a portion of his coffee into his saucer and drank it from that vessel. If he had stood at zero in her estimation before supper, he certainly sank several degrees below during that repast. His really interesting talk, his good looks, his ineffable nonchalance, were all as nothing to that good old lady in the balance against what she afterwards denounced as his ‘barbarous breeding.’

Luckily for Spencer, others of his new acquaintances were not so intolerant, and he repaid their generosity by upwards of an hour’s amusement which he supplied by an account of the divine origin of his religion. The theologians politely gave him the floor and offered no criticisms. At nine o’clock Mark Kilbourne arrived, and the party soon afterwards broke up. Mark was very attentive to the Mormon, and presently took him up to James’s room. When the clock struck ten, Mr. Smiles, who was left alone with the ladies, said that he could not think of keeping them up any longer, and as he felt no inclination to retire he would take a stroll in the moonlight.

“The truth is, my dear madam,” said this sturdy young parson who was as unimpressible as a brick-bat, and was also well aware of the fact, “the unusual excitements of to-day have somewhat upset me.”

Shortly afterwards he put on a light overcoat, and lit a fragrant Havana as he went outside.

“Well, Hagar, what do you think of the Mormon?” asked Mrs. Taine.

“He seems a talented fellow, but oh, my! how ignorant! Just think of any sane person believing that story about the golden plates.”

“My dear,” replied the old lady confidentially, “any person who will eat pie with a knife, is fool enough to believe anything!”