Part 3 (1/2)
”I have,” gravely responded Stebbins.
”Hooraw! ha, ha, ha! Wal--what sort o' thing is't anyhow?”
”My religion is of the right sort, Brother Holt.”
”Methody?”
”Nothing of the kind.”
”What then? I thort they wur all Methodies in Swampville?”
”They're all _Gentiles_ in Swampville--worse than infidels themselves.”
”Wal--I know they brag mightily on thur genteelity. I reckon you're about right thur--them, storekeepers air stuck-up enough for anythin'.”
”No, no; it's not that I mean. My religion has nothing to do with Swampville. Thank the Lord for his mercy, I've been led into a surer way of salvation. I suppose, Brother Holt, you've heard of the new Revelation?”
”Heern o' the new rev'lation. Wal, I don't know as I hev. What's the name o't?”
”The book of _Mormon_?”
”Oh! Mormons! I've hearn o' them. Hain't they been a fightin' a spell up thur in Ma.s.souray or Illinoy, whar they built 'em a grandiferous temple? I've hearn some talk o't.”
”At Nauvoo. It is even so, Brother Holt the wicked Gentiles have been persecuting the Saints: just as their fathers were persecuted by the Egyptian Pharaohs.”
”An' hain't they killed their head man--Smith he wur called, if I recollex right.”
”Alas, true! Joseph Smith has been made a martyr, and is by this time an angel in heaven. No doubt he is now in glory, at the head of the angelic host.”
”Wal--if the angels are weemen, he'll hev a good wheen o' 'em about him, I reck'n. I've hearn he wur at the head of a putty consid'able host o'
'em up thur in Ma.s.soury--fifty wives they said he hed! Wur that ere true, Josh?”
”Scandal, Brother Holt--all scandal of the wicked enemies of our faith.
They were but wives _in the spirit_. That the Gentiles can't comprehend; since their eyes have not been opened by the Revelation.”
”Wal, it 'pears to be a tol'able free sort o' rileegun anyhow. Kind o'
Turk, aint it?”
”Nothing of the kind. It has nothing in common with the doctrines of Mohammedanism.”
”But whar did _you_ get it, Josh Stebbins? Who gin it to you?”
”You remember the man I brought over here last fall?”
”Sartint I do. Young he wur--Brig Young, I think, you called him.”
”The same.”
”In coorse, I remember him well enough; but I reckon our Marian do a leetle better. He tried to spark the gurl, an' made fine speeches to her; but she couldn't bar the sight o' him for all that. Ha! ha! ha.
Don't ye recollex the trick that ar minx played on him? She unbuckled the girt o' his saddle, jest as he wur a-goin' to mount, and down he kim--saddle, bags, and all--cawollup to the airth! ha! ha! Arter he wur gone, I larfed till I wur like to bust.”