Joseph Smith: A Modern American Prophet

Joseph Smiths A Modern By JOHN HENRY EVANS American Prophet IV IT IS midnight, and we are in the home of the Smiths in Manchester. Not the log house that we have heard so much about in these pages — the one from which the young Joseph went to the grove yonder seven years ago and to which he returned a chang- ed boy, and the one whose humble attic chamber, if we may call it by so high-sounding a name, was signally honored by three visita- tions of a heavenly being,- — -but another house just across the line separating Palmyra and Manches- ter townships, which is more pre- tentious and roomy and which the ambitious Alvin had set his heart on but had not lived to see finished. Mother Smith is sitting up alone. She is at her eternal task of touching up a piece of oilcloth that is meant for a table covering. Long since the dishes have been washed and put away and the kitchen set to order. She is in a high tension over something. You can see that very clearly. It is not because every- thing is still as death, both within and without the house. For every one else is in bed and no doubt fast asleep by this time. And outside all the barnyard noises have gradually ceased — the scrambling of chickens for room on the roosts, the movement of the cows and horses in their effort to locate a satisfactory spot to lie down in. Not a breath of air stirs the great trees in the forest around the clear- ing. Nor is Mother Smith's apparent nervousness due to any fear of the oppressive night stillness. She is accustomed to being alone times like this. Besides, even if she weren't, she is a strong-hearted wo- man, a pioneer woman, to whom small timidities involving only outer dangers are altogether un- known. She has no uneasy con- science carrying on a warfare in her breast. It is something very different from any of these that causes her to be anxious tonight. Tomorrow is a red-letter day in her life, and in the life of the whole family, especially in that of her son Joseph. It is the day when the ancient record is to be delivered into his hands by the Angel Mo- roni. "COUR long, anxious years they have looked forward to this event. Perhaps the mother has been more concerned than any one else, not even excluding Joseph himself, over the coming of this notable day. And that for two reasons. First, she is older than he and therefore has greater fears that he will not prove equal to his responsibilities. That is what the years bring to us. And then she vs always apprehensive that there will be a slip-up of things. For things you set your heart on have somehow a way of slipping up. All the family share her an- ticipation, without feeling her keen sense of responsibility. There are friends, too, who are looking forward to this great day with anxious eyes. Some of them are the Stoals and the Knights, neighbors of the Smiths — if you do not think of the word "neigh- bors" too critically; for the Knights live twenty-five miles away, in Colesville. Two of these — Josiah Stoal and Joseph Knight, both elderly men — have come to the Smith home, in order to be on hand when the golden volume is brought home. And outside in the barn is the horse that has pulled them here in the light wa- gon, which stands hardby in the yard. It belongs to Mr. Knight. Through Joseph himself these two friends have picked up their interest in the coming forth of the ancient record. During these four years, as he could be spared by his father and as he needed money for his personal expenses, Joseph has worked for Mr. Knight and Mr. Stoal- — on the farm or in the flour mill of the former and in an old Spanish mine of the latter in Penn- sylvania. As the friendship be- tween Joseph and these men rip- ened, he has told them about his visions and the ancient record that he is to have in his keeping for a time. They have believed him; they have trusted in his truthful- ness; and now they are in the Smith home awaiting the deliver- ance of the sacred plates. [T IS barely possible, however, that no one in all the house is asleep, as we at first supposed — not Josiah Stoal, nor Joseph Knight, nor any of the Smiths, least of all Joseph. They are in bed, though. At least, Mother Smith believes they are. But, for all that, they may not be asleep. It may very well be that they have on their minds just what she has on hers — the thing which is to happen to- morrow. For scarcely anything can be of greater importance to them than the matter involved in what this young man Joseph has been telling them. They put the thing very prac- tically. Like everyone else they want to know whether there is a life for them after death. It is the great question. But here is a man who says he has actually seen a resurrected person — Moroni, who lived fourteen hundred years ago on the American continent, who died here, and who later was raised from the dead. And he has seen him not once only, but many times. If such a thing is true of Moroni, why, it may be true in their own case, for Moroni, by all accounts, was very much like themselves in most respects. And now, if Joseph gets these sacred plates that the Angel has in his keeping, it will be the best of evi- dence that the rest of the story is true.

The Improvement Era for October, 1930 809 What wonder is it then, if they are all awake in their beds, think- ing? Vf OTHER SMITH'S attention is attracted by the opening of a door leading to the kitchen from another room, a bedroom. She quickly turns her head. It is young Joseph. He is dressed for a journey, the object of which she surmises. "Mother," he says, "have you got a chest with a lock and key?" Instantly Mrs. Smith takes alarm. She says not a word. She looks at him as if she were to blame for some great mishap. Seeing her fears, he goes up to her. "Never mind, Mother; I can do very well for the present with- out it. Be calm — everything's all right!" Then he leaves the room by the outer door. She listens to his retreating foot- steps as he goes round the house. She hears him go to the stable, bring out a horse, hitch it to the wagon standing in the yard out- side, Presently the inner door creaks again on its hinges. This time a young woman enters the room. It is Emma, Joseph's wife. She, too, is attired for a journey some- where, for she wears her bonnet and riding dress. With only a glance and a smile in the direction of her mother-in-law, she passes through the room and joins her husband. A minute or two later Mother Smith hears the wagon leave the yard and enter the narrow lane which leads westward into the road to Canandaigua — the mail route that passes the hill Cumorah. When the last sound of the wheels dies out on her ears, Mother Smith sits there in deep medita- tion. After a while she gets up, goes to a small table, takes off it the large family Bible, returns to the chair, and begins to read. Later she kneels down and prays. And on rising she sits there, plunged in reverie once more, the Bible meantime on her lap. She does not stir till dawn. VfEANWHILE Joseph and Em- ma proceed to the hill. It is such a night as poor love-lorn Jessica describes to Lorenzo in the Merchant of Venice. The full moon rides high in the clearest sky you could wish to see, but it is without the "sweet wind" that gently "kisses the trees." At a jog-trot the horse takes the narrow lane and then the broad road past Cumorah. Joseph has often gone over this highway since the day when he first pried open that stone box with its precious contents. You may remember that the Angel instruct- ed him to visit the place every year on the twenty-second of Sep- tember, till he should obtain the plates and the interpreters. And he has faithfully kept his tryst with the Angel there, and received instruction and guidance from his heavenly tutor. And now, as he goes to the hill the fourth time since he first saw the plates, his heart leaps up with hope and wonder. When he comes back on this road, he thinks, he will have with him the sacred book. They will be perfectly safe in his possession now, after his four years of heavenly tutelage. No longer does he think of it in terms of what the plates might bring him in money, but only in terms of what it will mean to the world in the salvation of souls. /"nN reaching the foot of the hill V he leaves Emma in charge of the horse and wagon, and pushes his way alone through the woods up to where the stone box is. He uncovers it as he has done four times before — with a stick for a bar. The Angel is there to give him some final instructions. "Now you have got the record," says the heavenly messenger as he surrenders the long-treasured vol- ume, "you will have to be watch- ful and faithful to your trust. Otherwise you will be overpow- ered by wicked men, for you are but a man. They will lay every plan that is possible to get it away from you, and if you do not heed continually, they will succeed. The Hill Cumorah While it was in my hands, I could keep it, and no man had power to take it away. But now I give it up to you. Beware, and look well to your ways. If you do so, you shall have power to retain it, till the time for it to be trans- lated." With the interpreters in his pocket and the book wrapped in a cloth under his arm, Joseph goes back down the hill to Emma. Then getting into the wagon, he drives toward his home on the road he has come. When he has gone about a mile, however, he stops the horse, gets out of the vehicle with the sacred record, and goes into the woods. Off the main road a few rods he finds an old birch tree much de- cayed, except the bark. With his pocket knife he cuts the bark with great care, turns it back, makes a hole of sufficient size to receive the plates, and, putting the plates into the cavity, replaces the bark till you could never tell, if you did not know differently, that the old birch holds in its bosom the most wonderful treasure in the world. This strange task done, Joseph goes back to Emma, and the two proceed once more homeward. ^7 HEN Mother Smith has fin- ished her sleepless vigil, as I have already said, it is early dawn. Presently she set to work on her preparation for breakfast. As the time arrives for sitting down to the meal, there is no small amount of confusion. Father Smith is disturbed because Joseph is not ready for breakfast, and he is about to go into his room to call him. He does not know that Joseph and Emma left the house during the night. "Don't call for him," says the tactful Lucy, "because he may want to eat breakfast with his wife this morning." "No, no," the father protests; "I must have him sit down with me as usual." "Now, Father," Mother Smith urges, "do let him eat with his wife this morning." This ends the argument. But now Mr. Knight comes into the kitchen much perturbed in his mind. "My horse is gone," he says excitedly, "and I can't find (Continued on page 818)