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 reference to “Joe Smith’s” own theological creed, there is a very neat and notable precis of it on p. 171 of a bright little book I have lately read, titled “Frank’s Ranche, or my Holiday in the Rockies,” easily accessible.  That creed is so good that when I read it aloud to my homeflock they said, “Why, we believe all that!”—­and as to the evil matter of many wives, not only did the original Joseph repudiate that doctrine, but his namesake son, still a chief among the Mormons, does the same, and so far has seceded from the Brigham heresy:  which a son of mine says is not bigamy, but Brighamy.

A few forgotten anecdotes may here find place:  take these twelve as samples of many more such trivials which memory may have at the bottom of her well, if she only dipped for them.

1.  A banknote experience:  when a very small child I used to be taken to the Postford paper-mill at Albury by my nurse, who had a follower (or a followed) in the foreman there.  While they talked together, I was deputed to amuse myself by making banknote paper, as thus:  a spoonful of pulp put into a shallow tray of wire and shaken deftly made a small oblong of paper duly impressed with Britannia and water-marked:  being then dried on a flannel pad.  Many years after, when I was preparing for Oxford under Mr. Holt at Postford House, there was discovered a secret cupboard in the wall of his drawing-room which was found to contain several forged plates for printing banknotes:  and this discovery accounted for the recent suicide of a Mr. H——­, a previous owner of the paper-mill, who evidently feared exposure and conviction.  No one now is allowed to make banknote