THE CITY OF THE SAINTS 



could hardly be found on the face of the earth 

 than is gathered here, notwithstanding rail- 

 roads, telegraphs, and the penetrating lights 

 that go sifting through society everywhere in 

 this revolutionary, question-asking century. 

 Most of the Mormons I have met seem to be 

 in a state of perpetual apology, which can 

 hardly be fully accounted for by Gentile 

 attacks. At any rate it is unspeakably offen- 

 sive to any free man. 



"We Saints," they are continually saying, 

 "are not as bad as we are called. We don't 

 murder those who differ with us, but rather 

 treat them with all charity. You may go 

 through our town night or day and no harm 

 shall befall you. Go into om- houses and you 

 will be well used. We are as glad as you are 

 that Lee was punished," etc. While taking 

 a saunter the other evening we were overtaken 

 by a characteristic Mormon, "an 'umble man," 

 who made us a very deferential salute and then 

 walked on with us about half a mile. We dis- 

 cussed whatsoever of Mormon doctrines came 

 to mind with American freedom, which he 

 defended as best he could, speaking in an 

 excited but deprecating tone. When hard 

 pressed he would say: "I don't understand 

 these deep things, but the elders do. I 'm only 

 an 'umble tradesman." In taking leave he 

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