The Republican journal., 1884-04-10
Printed IN tins paper Dy special arrangement
with the author.
Sealed Unto Him.
A STORY OF TIE EARLY DAYS OF MORNIONISM.
BY JOAQUIN MILLER.
Author of "Songs of the Sierras," "The Dmitcs, -
"Mcmorie and ltime' etc.
CHAPTER V.
VI Al III '.
THE GRAVES OF TIE DEAD SEA.


CHAPTER V.
THE GRAVES OF TIE DEAD SEA.
The Book of Mormon is of prodigi0us
size and uneXampled Stiffness. One
marvcis that any one ever had the per
sistence to write down its endless round
OF repetitions of biblical words and
phrases. Protesting to give, in the style
and language OF the Bible, the history of
the Tribes from the time of their dis
affection till they possessed America and
became the mound builders, it is simply
intoltrabe as a piece of artistic work.
Yet as it was found III all minng-c camps.
where in the snowy Businesses we often
had nothing else left to read, it thus fell
to my lot to read it through not untre-
qHently. From title-page 10 colophon
there is not one lofty or inspired or in
spring thought, like those filling the
volume it affects to follow. 4 dreary,
weary book it is, And Yet it answers
the Mormon's purpose in this: that
where he cannot find an excuse for his
actions in the real Book, he can surely
find it in the forged one.
After this huge man with the book and
the deep hollow eyes had eXhorted and
preached and read for hours and hours,
halting now and then as he read, devour-
ing the whole camp and all that circle
about him with his hungry eyes, the girl
drawn even nearest of all, and right
under bis eyes and right by the side Of
her Ignorant and fanatical eXecutioners,
he calmly and with earnest eXhortation
begged to baptize his listeners in the
faith of the Latter Day Saints.
No one answered or moved. Many a
long breath was drawn, many deep
sigh was smothered, but no one spoke.
The missionary, as he now announced
himself, looked straight and hard and
earnestly at the girl She lifted her
weary black eyes to his once more, and
tried hard to read if there was any help
or any hope at all in them But she did
not speak. The man arose, went down
to the bank, drank a cupful of water.
came back and began to read and eXhort
and explain and endeavor to proselyte
once more. And so this strange man
kept on till the day was spent.
No one had spoken save himself. No
one had tasted food. Some of the chill
dren had slept, their heads in their weary
mothers laps, as they sat in circle and
listened and listened in silence, that
long, long day, under the vast blue sky,
by the dark and desoate lake of death.
And now mark When that man was
done reading and the sun was going
down, there was not a weary and over
come man or woman there who was not
awed or terrified or fascinated into some
sort of half belief.
Again the man rose up and pleaded for
converts to his singular faith. He
stretched his hands over the darkening
lake as the sun went down; he lifted his
long arms to the mountains of snow be-
yond the young city; he appealed to
nothing low, to nothing bad, but to much
that was noble in man and sublime in
nature. His lips were dry, his eyes were
deep and hollow and wild, but he kept
on till the sun had fallen behind the
steep hill that rose in our road before us.
Surely the man was mad. And yet as
typical, as true Mormon elder was he,
as photograph could print He made a
last appeal to the weak and now pros
trate girl. Some one Of the party, wiser
than the rest perhaps, beckoned her
silently to comply.
She put out her two hands helplessly
and he led her to the water, the men
with the horses rising in their places and
uncovering their heads. Others did the
same.
Whether the mormon missionary i'm
provised his brief ceremony and action,
or followed the prescribed forms, it is not
important to say. But he led her back
soon to where all stood waiting, respect
full, silent as before.
The girl seemed a bit refreshed, hope
full. What had he said to her? What
would he do now? Hand her over to one
Of the bloody men there as bride ?
Keep her for himsel! No, not this last.
There was not shadow of interest in her
in any one of the hard and very deep
lines of that massive and monk like face.
He stopped still moment and prayed.
How new, strange, awful, weird all this
was in the dim twilight by the darken-
ing lake of death Some birds flew into
camp from the hills. 1t was strange
thing, and the first time in a thousand
years, that man had come to pitch tent
in their resting place.
The moon, round faced and full, lean
ed out of heaven and looked straight
down, close down, calm and pitying, like
the sorrowful face of nun at prayer
Surely in scene like this, now at
last, after all this suffering, this suspense
copyrighted by C. H. Miller, 1884.