In February, Joseph spoke in the name of the Lord and commanded that the elders “go forth and preach for a season.” Shortly after, another revelation called them together. They returned to Kirtland with lively reports that indicated rapid growth in every direction. There was to be a great gathering place called the New Jerusalem, a land of peace, a city of refuge, and a place of safety. While the promise gave the community a sense of expectation and joy, there were also concerns

Lyman Wight, a deep-voiced, huge bear of a man, spoke for his group. “What should we do with our lands? The people are reluctant to buy or sell without knowing where we will go.”

Joseph received a revelation regarding a new gathering place, but it ended with, “Save all the money you can. The place is to be revealed after your brethren come from the east.” In response, men began nailing boards and fixing old fencing, women completed their mending and organized their cupboards. New and familiar faces dribbled into the community. Of those that commanded Joseph’s attention, one stood out.

“Parley Pratt!” Joseph embraced the man. It was the first he had seen of this convert since he had been sent on his mission to the natives. Because of the stories and promises found in the Book of Mormon in relation to the descendents of the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, it was expected Parley, along with his companion, Oliver, would win many converts. Joseph was eager for news.

Parley wore a travel-weary smile. His thick, dark, curly hair had grown over the sides of each ear. A small patch of hair curled upward along the sides of his head. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said genuinely.

Joseph laughed amicably. “You never can tell what will happen when you put your trust in the Lord.”

“I was on my way to see you in New York. I thought I’d stop by to see how things have progressed here since I left.”

Joseph drew nearer to the man and put his arm around his shoulder. “Come and you will see. Things have not stood still. First, we must visit with your old friend, Brother Sidney.”

At Rigdon’s cottage, Parley received a warm handshake. The bright May sun peered through the small windows, bringing warmth to the reunion. Phoebe Rigdon put aside her mending and made a large pitcher of fresh lemonade. She filled three glasses and placed them before the men.

Joseph turned to Parley, eager to share his news. “New York is on their way here.”

Parley sat with his mouth half open, unable to speak.

“The Saints from Fayette, Manchester, Waterloo–they are on their way here. Your wife, Thankful, is traveling with the Whitmers.”

Parley flashed a wide-toothed grin. “This is good news.”

“Joseph received a revelation to gather here,” Sidney said.

The men discussed some of the changes that had taken place during Parley’s absence, until Joseph said, “Enough! Tell us about your mission.”

“It was a long journey,” Parley said. He explained how he and his companions had visited with several tribes, including the Cattaraugus Indians near Buffalo, and Chief Anderson and his tribe near the Missouri border. All were in a desperate struggle for survival and had neither the time nor the ability to sit and read. Between villages, the elders had suffered mile after mile of wilderness, heavily burdened, poorly funded, and poorly nourished.

“What about the books you carried?” Sidney asked. “Couldn’t you sell any?”

“Not to the Indians. They have no money and they can barely read,“ Parley said. “We did give a few copies away.”

Sidney shook his head, “What a shame.”

Parley reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “Oliver sent this letter for you.”

Joseph read the letter and then passed it to Sidney. He returned his attention to Parley. “It appears that you didn’t have much success.”

Sidney glanced up from his reading. “The purposes of God are great respecting the Indians. The Lord will open the way in his own due time. But Oliver seems to think highly of Independence.”

Parley was openly enthusiastic. “It is fascinating. Many different tribes are represented there.”

Sidney needed details. “Is there much permanent settlement?”

“The Kansas Indians live just west of there. Independence itself is small right now, but that’s one of its advantages. There’s tremendous room for growth.”

Joseph stood up. “You’ve delivered an interesting tale, but now I feel we must let you rest.”

“I have much more to tell you. Remember the revelation about the place for the gathering? The Lord said it will be on the borders of the Lamanites. Oliver and I feel that Independence is that place.”

“I don’t know,” Joseph said.

“Frankly,” Sidney said, “your mission was a failure.”

“But that wasn’t our fault,” Parley objected.

Joseph kept his tone low. “We can talk later. You’re tired, and I have some things I need to do.” He displayed a thin smile as he led Parley to the door. The elder was openly disappointed.

A few days later, a special revelation for Parley sent him to “labor in the vineyard and strengthen the branches sprouting throughout the land.” In little more than a week he returned along with Elder Murdock, eager to talk with the leaders. Parley and Sidney sat in chairs in front of Joseph’s desk, while Brother Murdock stood leading against the window frame.

“We’ve got a problem,” Parley said.

Joseph laid his papers neatly to one side and gave the men his full attention. “What is it?”

Murdock spoke slowly. “Some of the members have been acting out during worship.”

Joseph templed his fingers and looked first to Parley and then to Elder Murdock. He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of acting out?”

“Swooning and unseemly gesturing,” Parley said. “It seems to have crept into the church while I was away on my mission.”

“It’s probably nothing more than misguided ideas.” Sidney suggested.

Murdock disagreed. “This whole situation with the Indians is out of hand. Last week, Burr Riggs gave his testimony in some strange language no one could understand. He said it was the original Indian language The spirit of the Lord, so he says, is preparing him for a special mission.”

”Tell him about Leman,” Parley said.

“He’s been dancing around like an Indian on the warpath. Then he starts pretending he’s baptizing somebody. He goes through all the motions and there ain’t nobody there.”

“Does he do this during the services?” Rigdon asked.

Murdock nodded.

Joseph thought for a moment. “We’ve had trouble with Brother Leman before. I thought he understood by now that these actions are not of the spirit of the Lord.”

“It would seem he didn’t get the message,” Murdock said dryly.

“We were hoping you’d ask the Lord what to do,” Parley said. “Such behavior needs to be stopped, but we don’t want to make any errors of judgment.”

Joseph agreed and soon received a revelation admonishing the elders not to accept false spirits. To prepare them to recognize such spirits, he said, “If you behold a

spirit manifested that you do not understand and you receive not the spirit, ye shall ask the Lord in the name of Jesus Christ, and if he gives unto you that spirit, then you may know that it is of God.” It was mostly a question of asking the Lord.

Brothers Parley and Murdock returned to the vineyards.

New York Saints Arrive:

The month of May progressed. Joseph found himself eager and anxious for the arrival of the New York Saints. Several communities had joined together in a trek of nearly one thousand miles through mud and snow. On the fifteenth of the month, when Sidney came by to help with the translation work, Joseph chose to excuse himself. “I can’t work. I think I’m going to ride out of town a ways.”

Sidney smiled and started for the door he had just entered. “I’d like to go with you. I’m as eager for that train as you are.”

Joseph stood and smiled at his assistant. Together they walked out the door. Before they had time to saddle their horses, they were joined by Joseph’s brother, Hyrum. Soon, thick dust trailed behind the three men as they made their way out of town. After several miles of riding, Joseph pulled on the reins of his horse and swung his feet to the ground. He knelt and placed the side of his head against the dry earth. When he lifted his head, he wore a broad smile. “There’s a rumble in the distance.”

Joseph jumped on his horse and led his companions in a gallop through a grove of trees and across an open field. In the distant horizon they saw the slow, lumbering movement of the train. The riders sped forward until Joseph recognized the train’s leaders. “Newel! Jared!” he called. He gave his horse a gentle kick, sprung forward a short distance, and then stopped and dismounted. Hyrum stood next to the prophet as Newel and Jared joined them in the open field.

“Is my mother here?” Joseph asked.

Newel smiled. “You’ll find her at the back of the train. We met up with her in Buffalo leading a train of eighty from Fayette and Waterloo.”

“Mother leading?” Joseph turned toward Hyrum and laughed unabashedly.

Newel broke the merriment. “We’ve been eager to see Kirtland.”

“We’re going to settle you in Thompson,” Joseph said. “It’s to the northwest–about sixteen miles. “We’ve got a thousand-acre tract of land waiting for you.”

Jared whistled. “A thousand acres. Where’d you get that?”

“We got a good deal on it from one of the brethren,” Joseph said. “It’s going to cost us about half what it is worth.” He signaled for the men to remount, and as they headed for the train, Joseph kept his horse close to Newel Knight’s, eager for more news. “How about Josiah?” Did he make it?”

“He was with us in the beginning, but then he had to return on some urgent business. He may come later.”

Joseph was visibly disappointed.

“We couldn’t hold the entire train for him,” Newel explained.

“I understand. What about Emily?” He spoke of a young convert who had tried to join the church but suffered opposition from her pastor.

“The pious Presbyterians took her back to her brother where they charged her with unchristian conduct in showing interest in our doctrine. After all that, they withdrew the hand of fellowship.”

“That’s all right,” Joseph said. ‘It sounds like she never had it anyway.”

“Emily is old enough to know what she wants. She is in one of those wagons ahead. She’ll be living with us and helping Sally. She’s totally enraptured with you, by the way.”

Joseph chuckled. “I’m glad to hear the noble reverend didn’t get his way.” He turned to Hyrum and said, “You and Sidney lead the wagons to Thompson. I’ll meet you later.”

Joseph slowed his horse to a walk. He rode with one hand on the reins and the other in the air, waving greetings to the familiar faces. Sixty-two members from Boone and Chenoga counties had joined in Buffalo with eighty members from Fayette, Waterloo, and surrounding areas. The train was an impressive and welcome sight.

As he drew nearer to the end of the train, he heard a call from his younger brother, Don Carlos. He turned and saw his mother holding the reins firmly, her youngest son at her side. William rode beside the wagon. Lucy brought the wagon to a stop.

Joseph lifted himself close to the driver’s seat and planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I heard you were one of the leaders of the train.”

“Just part of it, but I’ve let go of my authority now.”

Joseph chuckled. “I see you’ve still got the reins.”

Lucy wore a wide grin and stated the obvious. “This is just one wagon.”

Joseph called to his younger brother. “Don Carlos, change places with me for a while. I’m taking Ma to Kirtland at Pa’s request.” He turned to Lucy. “It seems he has been missing you mighty bad.”

Lucy giggled. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Hah! “ Joseph called as he took hold of the reins. “With all you do for him? You know he’s lost without you.”

With the help of the new arrivals, the Thompson settlement began to transform. Overgrowth was removed from fields that had been left untended. Rich, black soil was turned and planted. Time moved swiftly. Temporary lean-to’s were quickly replaced by cabins, and a variety of new green sprouts began to peek through the surface of the earth.

The scheduled time for the First General Conference in Kirtland drew near. Joseph filled his hours with the details of planning. He was surprised when Newel Knight rode hurriedly into the community and requested a meeting. Once inside Joseph’s office, he paced before his desk, agitated. “Our community is in difficulty. Leman Copely is taking revenge.”

“But he has been cut-off from the church.”

“That’s the source of his anger. Now he has withdrawn from his covenant. He’s demanding we leave his land under penalty of the law.”

“He can’t do that. That land belongs to the church now.”

Newel nodded slightly. “He says that it is not paid for.

“That’s true,” Joseph said. “The terms did not call for immediate payment.”

“Leman is taking his land back. He also demands sixty dollars from each family to cover damages.”

Joseph’s face colored. “We’ve got twenty-five or thirty families there. We can’t raise that kind of money. The commandment is clear. Property cannot be taken back.”

“He doesn’t give a hoot about the commandments.”

Joseph thought for a few moments and then asked, “What kind of damage is he claiming. As far as I know, our people have built up the fields.”

“He calls our cabins alterations and considers the newly planted crops part of the damage. The sad thing is, if he follows through with his threats to take it to court, he’ll probably win.”

Joseph spoke softly. “We’ll have to find some other land.”

Newel stopped his pacing, looked at Joseph firmly, and said, “Everyone is waiting for the announcement of the location of Zion. They don’t want to purchase land here. Not if we will have to move again. We heard you received a revelation before our arrival that said we would know after our arrival. We are here.”

Joseph sighed deeply. “Let’s wait and see what happens at conference.”

“Many people expect the Lord to manifest himself in a powerful way.”

Joseph agreed. “The Lord God has a mighty work in store for us.”

Building a Special Place for Worship

The days slipped by and preparations for the conference were underway. The sound of saws cutting lumber was added to by the sight of the elders placing the newly shaped planks to form rows and benches. Soon there was a speaker’s platform. In the evenings when the day’s work had been laid to rest, the elders gathered to discuss the mysteries of God.

“What about the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel?” Brother Jared asked. “Many scholars have speculated on the disappearance of these people. A lot of research has been done, but no solid understanding has been reached.”

“Some scholars say they aren’t sure these Lost Tribes ever existed,” one of the elders said.

Joseph was moved by the spirit to stand and speak: “Brethren, these thoughts and questions which arouse your interest needn’t remain a mystery. These tribes now live in the land contiguous to the North Pole, separated from the world by impassable mountains and ice and snow. Elijah the Prophet and John the Revelator, along with the three Nephites of the Book of Mormon who were miraculously translated without tasting death–they are there as well. They’ll return to Palestine when the time comes. The Lord in His mighty power will open the mountains and create a passage.” Ripples of excited conversation passed through the small gathering, but Joseph was not finished. “Not three days shall pass away before one of you shall see the Lord face to face.”

The room became filled with expectant chatter. The following day, Joseph reinforced his expectation. “Remember the prophecy which was given by the spirit yesterday? I wish that you’ll not be overcome with surprise when the event is ushered in, for the spirit of the Lord will show itself and it is a mighty thing, not meant for the weak.”

The appointed day of conference brought the arrival of people from distant communities. News had spread fast, and expectations were high. The Colesville Saints were among the two thousand who made the trek to Kirtland. The people assembled out in the open under the bright rays of the June sun. When the benches were filled, they placed blankets on the ground and sat under trees. They sang praises, offered prayers of thanksgiving, and bore testimony of God’s work in their lives. Sidney kept the assembly’s attention for several hours with an eloquent and thought provoking sermon.

Joseph spoke briefly and then called Lyman Wight to the stand. He placed his hands on the bearded man’s head and ordained him to the high priesthood, the order of the Melchizedek, as mentioned by Abraham in the fourteenth chapter of Genesis. In a special blessing, Lyman was set apart for the service to the Indians and ordained to the gift of tongues, healing of the sick, casting out of devils, and the discerning of spirits. It was this last blessing that would be called from him on this day. Lyman’s face appeared flushed as he rose and stepped down from the platform. He had a bold look of fierceness about him.

Joseph spoke, his voice elevated. “Brother Lyman, I perceive the power of the Lord has fallen upon you.”

Lyman jumped on a nearby bench, his arms stretched toward the heavens. His eyes glistened as he raised his voice for all to hear. “There are some here who will live until the Savior shall descend from heaven with a shout, with all the holy angels with Him. It will be like the sun rising in the east, and it will cover the whole earth.” He began to shout. “If you want a sign, look at me! I saw the Savior!”

A quiet hush fell over the gathering. Joseph led Lyman back to the platform and turned to him solemnly. “Brother Lyman, it has fallen on you to ordain those selected by the spirit of the Lord which is in me.”

One by one, Joseph called his elders by name, while Lyman placed his hands on the recipient’s head and entreated the spirit. The effects of the blessings were startling. Elder Harvey moved upon the floor, his legs inclined to a bend, his head limp to one side. He held his arms extended at his side, his hands clenched.

Joseph approached the tormented man. “Speak, Brother Harvey.”

Harvey moved his lips, but no sound came out.

“He has gone dumb,” an elder said.

“He’s possessed by the devil,” accused another.

“The Lord binds in order to set at liberty,” Joseph said. He stood before the congregation and entreated the spirit. Then he turned to the elders and said, “Brother Harvey is under a diabolical influence. The spirit of Satan has bound him.” He walked toward the stricken mortal and placed his hands on his head. “I command you, unclean spirit, come out of this man.”

Harvey continued with the same pale, pained expression, his eyes pleading for relief. Joseph prayed more intensely, sweat poured from his forehead. He spoke with greater force as he commanded, “Come out of this man, unclean spirit.”

Moments passed without a sound in the gathering, then came a quiet stir with a murmur of voices. For some, a dark vapor seemed to float across the room. Harvey’s face began to show a faint but healthy blush. The pain in his eyes was replaced by a vacancy that slowly began to clear.

Joseph spoke firmly to the elders. “The Lord suffered this that you may know the devices of Satan, that you may have knowledge sufficient to overthrow the evil one. This is a miracle,” he said. In an instant, he turned his attention to Brother Murdock, who had suffered a deformed arm since birth. He held the twisted arm with confidence. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to straighten your arm.” He reached for Murdock’s fingers and began to pry them open. They moved ever so slightly. Once again, Joseph’s voice took on an authoritative tone. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to straighten your arm.”

Brother Murdock grimaced in pain as his fingers began to open slowly under Joseph’s gentle prodding. As soon as they were released, they curled back into their former position.

Joseph became distracted as three men neared. Two elders carried one of the brethren who had a lame leg. He stood tall before hopeful, pleading eyes. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to walk.”

The man stood, took a few steps forward and fell.

Joseph repeated the command. The man rose again and took several wobbly steps. He reached forward with extended arms to brace himself. Slowly, he continued his advance until he finally reached the place where he had sat.

Joseph looked down the aisle. A tall, thin man shuffled forward, carrying a small child in his arms. “Heal my daughter,” he begged.

Joseph paled as he looked at the small rigid body. “How long has she been like this?”

“This is the third day. We’ve been waiting because we know the spirit of the Lord will be abundant and favorable for healing.”

Joseph, aghast, stammered. “This child is not ill. She is dead.”

“No,” the father cried. “It can’t be! Surely you can raise her again.”

“Why didn’t you take her to a doctor?” Joseph asked in frustration.

“The brethren told me she was in no danger, that she would be restored. I know the Lord will return her to me. She is merely sleeping. Please, give her a blessing that she may be made whole.”

“I can give her a blessing, but–” He looked at the pain in the man’s eyes, and his resistance broke down. He let his hands hover over the girl’s head. His eyes closed, he implored the spirit. “Heal this child, so that she may walk and play and fill her house with joy as before.” He ended his prayers with, “Thy will be done.”

The body lay lifeless.

Joseph stared into the man’s eyes. He repeated the prayer, with the same results. A feeling of gloom and disappointment spread throughout the gathering.

The father began to weep as he drew his child closer to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. The two elders moved in closer to the grieving man. One took the body of the child, the other helped to brace the father. Tears poured from his eyes as he shuffled down the aisle. He looked up and cried out uncontrollably. “Oh, God! You have taken my daughter.”

Joseph closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and then offered a soft spoken prayer. When he reopened his eyes, he was met by disturbed faces and bowed heads. Somehow, he was being blamed. Anger began to swell within him over a doctrine he had heard some practiced. Damn the doctrine of no doctors. He silently cursed.

The people began to stir, their faces sad, their shoulders stooped. There seemed to be no words to express the depth of the emotions brought forth by the scene they had witnessed. The atmosphere had changed. Eyes peered at the prophet with the cold, silent expression of anger. He wanted to shout that while he had power with the priesthood, he didn’t have power in all things. God would forever be supreme.

The service began much as it had the previous day, but the voices that sang praises were strained and held no joy. Then, halfway through the service, Sidney stepped up to the speaker’s stand, his voice quivering as he gave a brief blessing and dismissed the people.

Rumor quickly spread through Kirtland, and to the outlying branches, that miracles could not be performed because the Ohio location had never been consecrated. The Kirtland Saints continued to wait, albeit less patiently, for the announcement of the gathering place. For the branch in Colesville, there was a sense of desperation as Leman Copley had taken the initial steps to legally remove them from his land. The very next day Joseph spoke in the name of the Lord.

“Go now and flee the land. Appoint your leader and journey into the regions westward, unto the land of Missouri.”

Word came for those Saints that had remained in Kirtland, Ohio: “The next conference shall be held in Missouri, upon the land which I will consecrate unto my people. Let my servants start their journey as soon as preparations can be made.” Joseph assigned elders to accompany the leaders. Others were to go by different routes, preaching along the way. Joseph promised, “There will be land in abundance. We will build a glorious house of the Lord where we will worship in richness and abundance and find safety and refuge.”

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Join us next week: Chapter 3: Zion Claimed

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you

Just Judy, The Author

It was a crisp, clear January morning, and the church was now almost nine months old. Edward Partridge pulled at the reins of the horse-drawn sleigh. “Whoa!” he called out.

The horses slowed to a stop in front of a substantial two-story building with a sign on the face of the building. The porched entranceway was spacious. The guest glanced up at the ,well-formed letters: Gilbert and Whitney General Store.

Joseph hopped down from the sleigh, his attention riveted on the building’s facade.

Sidney was eager to introduce the place he called home. “We have quite a community here.”

“I see that.” Joseph half-turned and let his eyes scan the neat row of business establishments. He saw fine, well-formed structures with colorful signage; trees towered behind the row of buildings, their leafy expanse offering a green backdrop before the intense blue of the winter sky.

He directed his attention to the general store, straightened his shoulders, and pushed forward with lighthearted determination. His heavy walking boots sounded his arrival as he opened the establishment’s double doors. A bell tickled lightly as he entered, and a merchant looked up in response to the sound. Joseph’s tone was bold. “Newel K. Whitney, thou art the man!”

The merchant was actively checking stock and making calculations. He looked up, surprised at the familiarity. “You have the advantage, sir. How is it that you know my name?”

“You should know me, for you have prayed me here. I am Joseph Smith, the prophet. What do you want of me?”

The storekeeper’s face showed his surprise. “Do you bring the word of the Lord?”

“I surely do.” Joseph removed his coat and pulled back his shoulders as he gently laid it on a nearby chair. He walked towards the room’s only source of warmth and began to rub his hands together over the heat of the small black stove. He looked around the room, slowly pausing over some details and passing past others. The well-stocked, dust-free shelves covered three of the walls and seemed to be laid out with a good sense of order.

The bell over the entrance sounded again. Emma entered, her hands resting on her protruding belly. Sidney was at her side, with Edward Partridge following close behind.

“You just left me in the carriage!” Emma protested.

Joseph went to his wife and placed a light hand around her shoulder. “Forgive me, dear. I was so eager to meet this young man, I thought of nothing else. This is Mr. Whitney.”

Newel took Emma’s hand and gave a warm smile and then turned to Edward. He and Sidney had been absent from the community for weeks. Newel was so excited over Joseph’s arrival that he seemed to notice no separation. Without a greeting he said, “Edward, do you know who this is?”

“I should. I brought him here myself.”

Sidney turned to Joseph with a proud grin. “This man has been a faithful member of our church and a faithful contributor as well.”

Newel asked the prophet, “Where are you staying?”

Joseph looked first to Sidney and then to Edward. “I’m not sure that has been decided.”

“Our home is small, but we have a spare room. I’m sure my wife, Elizabeth, and I will be happy to have you. It would be an honor.”

Emma frowned.

Joseph moved closer to her and spoke softly. “It will only be temporary. I promise.”

Emma nodded and gave a thin smile.

Newel was clearly delighted with his guests and Elizabeth was a most gracious hostess. As promised, the living arrangement was temporary. Within four days of their arrival, the word of the Lord came through Joseph. “It is right that my servant have a house built in which to live and to translate.”

Sidney’s tiny community had sprung out of an effort on the part of the local inhabitants to live as they believed the early Christians had, forsaking the things of the world. Isaac Morely put up a small two-room cabin for Joseph and Emma.

“It’s wonderful,” Emma said. She held a bolt of cloth up against the window. “I’m so happy. I can’t wait to get everything unpacked.”

As the weeks passed, a tension over personal property began to show its face. There were frequent minor squabbles. Some took property that belonged to others; others demanded their personal items be returned.

“She took my favorite bolt of cloth,” one complained.

“But we’re a family now,” the taker retorted.

“You could have asked.”

“That’s right,” an old man answered. “And Jane has taken my favorite hammer. Now what would a woman want with a hammer?”

“Enough!” Joseph commanded. He asked for and found the answer to the problem. “Thou shalt not take thy brother’s garment. Thou shalt pay for what thou hast received of thy brother.”

A new system of community property was instituted. Each member was to consecrate all his belongings to the newly assigned bishop, Edward Partridge. He would return to each member an amount considered necessary for his family’s support, while the balance would be held in a common storehouse.

The Kingdom Continues to Grow:

News of the new community traveled fast, and interested people frequently came to investigate. This day brought a round, stout-faced man who claimed to be a Methodist minister. His name was Ezra Booth. He traveled in a wagon with a man, a woman, and several children. The Johnsons had come from the nearby township of Hiram.

“What brings you to Kirtland?” Joseph asked the minister.

“Curiosity, mainly. I’m really not certain.”

The children were hustled off to play while the grown-ups continued with the introductions. Joseph extended his hand to Mrs. Johnson, who gently stepped to the ground, her right arm held rigid by her side.

Ezra spoke up. “This is Elisa Johnson. Her arm has gone paralyzed.”

Joseph winced as he stepped closer and asked: “What caused the paralysis?”

Eliza cradled her elbow in her free hand. “There seems to be no cause.”

Joseph took the woman’s arm in his hands and gently touched and probed until she withdrew with a small screech. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How long has it been like this?”

Elisa sighed. “It has been weeks. It makes life most difficult, what with the chores and all. One needs two arms to make life work.”

“I’m sorry for your misfortune,” Joseph had an idea. He turned to Ezra. “Today is Tuesday. We have a meeting over at a schoolhouse. Why don’t you folks join us?”

Ezra glanced at Elisa’s husband, John.

“It could be edifying,” Joseph suggested.

Ezra smiled, snapped the reins, and turned his buggy in a semicircle. He slowed to a stop once he was in front of Joseph. “I’m sure we would love to come. If Mrs. Johnson feels up to it, we will bring her along.”

Joseph began to walk away and then turned and directed his attention to Ezra. “By the way, have you read The Book of Mormon?”

Ezra shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, I find little time for reading.”

“If you will read it with a prayerful heart and ask God to give you a witness, you’ll come to know the truth of the work.”

Ezra smiled broadly. “I’ll read it. See you tonight.”

The schoolhouse, a small one-room meeting house, was a short walk southeast of the general store. The benches were placed in rows with a wide aisle running between. Toward the front, just off a platform between the seats, a large, black, pot-bellied wood-burning stove provided warmth.

Joseph was satisfied to see that a large group had gathered and especially pleased to see the Johnsons and Ezra. After the usual opening prayer and song, lively discussion began on the gift of healing.

“Isn’t it a thing of the past?” an elder asked.

“Depends on your viewpoint,” John Whitmer reasoned. “Some say miracles ceased when Christ ascended to heaven.”

Leman Copley, a new convert said, “The Shakers believe the need for ordinances, like baptism and such, ended with the era of the apostles.”

“They don’t believe in marriage either,” an elder said. He let out a snide chuckle.

“But they enjoy visions and spiritual healing,” Leman retorted.

“They also claim their leader to be God incarnate, in the form of a female no less.” This elder’s tone showed his disapproval.

Sidney Rigdon became clearly excited. “We are preparing the way for the millennium. We’re on the edge of a new era when the deaf, the dumb, the blind, and the afflicted will become subjects of miraculous healing power.”

Joseph sat quietly as the men exchanged views. For him, the conversation was a mere backdrop. This spirit had begun to swell within him. He rose and walked over to Elisa and gently placed her useless arm in the open palm of his left hand. “Here is Mrs. Johnson.” He searched the roomful of faces while supporting her arm high in the air for all to see. “Has God given power to any man now on earth to cure her?”

Sidney Rigdon stood. “As old covenants are done away…” He stopped in mid-sentence, his attention riveted on the prophet.

Joseph stood straight and tall, his eyes glimmered in a fixed stare. His voice was deep and powerful. “Woman, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command thee to be whole.”

The prophet released her arm just as gently as he had taken it in his hand and then turned and calmly walked out the door. When the news reached him that Elisa had regained full use of her arm, it came as no surprise, for he had felt the power of the spirit.

The incident prompted much talk and gossip. “A miracle,” many said. Most versions were at variance with the facts. This first miracle story would be told many different ways. The incident would seal Elisa’s faith and help reinforce those who suffered periods of uncertainty.

As Emma’s pregnancy slipped into the final trimester, Joseph stayed close to their cabin. Sidney visited often and the work on the New Testament revision progressed slowly. Saturday was spent in preparation for the Sabbath. Joseph sat at his desk to review the work done the previous week when he heard a faint tap at the door. He looked up as John Whitmer entered.

“I just came from the schoolhouse. There is a woman there who has been raising quite a stir. She says she is a prophetess of the Lord.”

Joseph looked up from his work. “A prophetess? What next?”

“Sister Hubble has been receiving commandments and laws on behalf of the church.”

“Commandments! Laws!” An expression of disbelief settled over Joseph’s face.

“I don’t think the elders are being swayed from your teachings. It’s just that they also believe her. Brother Sidney has given her the right hand of fellowship and the kiss of charity.”

Joseph pushed himself away from his desk. He raised his voice. “The kiss of charity! Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He placed his reading materials in a neat stack and got up from his chair. “It’s hard to believe that an eloquent and respected minister of the gospel can be led astray so readily. As for the rest of the brethren, they should know they have been sent to teach, not to be taught. I had hoped they would understand this by now.”

Joseph and John walked briskly to the schoolhouse where they found many of the leading elders gathered around a slender and attractive woman, her chestnut braids wound meticulously on top of her head. Her dress flowed with each movement.

Joseph walked directly to the prophetess and charged, “I understand you’ve been giving commandments to the church.”

Sister Hubble’s green eyes met his gaze. “You must be Joseph Smith. I’ve looked forward to meeting you. Yes, I’ve received several commandments.” She smiled continually as she talked, her voice smooth and pleasing.

Joseph raised his voice an octave. “By what authority do you receive these commandments?”

Sister Hubble squared her shoulders. “By the authority of Jesus Christ.”

Joseph remained calm. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you are mistaken. I am appointed as the revelator of the church.”

“Are you the same Joseph Smith, Jr. listed as author on the cover page of the Book of Mormon?”

“I am. But I have also been ordained Prophet, Seer, and Revelator by the will of God.”

“Can you, in the presence of the almighty God, give your word that an angel from heaven showed you where the gold plates were hidden, and that you know the things contained in that book are from those plates?”

Joseph squared his shoulders, indignant. “I’ll not swear at all.”

Sister Hubble placed the back of her left hand gently on her forehead. Her voice seemed to sing, “Oh, blush at such abominations. Let shame forever cover your face?”

Joseph stifled a smile. “Why, Mrs. Hubble, you surprise me. It should come as no surprise to you to know that the gift has returned back again, as in former times, to the illiterate fisherman.”

Sister Hubble regained her composure, her tone returned to its original softness. “I have received answers to prayer, and I know the things I preach are from God. I would like to become a teacher of the church.”

Joseph swallowed hard. “That can never be.”

“Why? I know the spirit speaks to me.”

“Do you know which spirit? Not all spirits are from God.”

Sister Hubble’s face turned a deep red. “The problem with you is–it’s that–oh!” She stammered, and became even more frustrated. “There’s no sense arguing with you.” She turned angrily, bundled herself against the cold, and stomped out of the schoolhouse.

Joseph’s cold stare communicated his displeasure as he briefly turned and looked at each of the elders. Without saying a word, he returned to his work.

Sister Hubble had easily backed down, but the problem created among the errant elders was not resolved until a meeting had been called and Joseph received another revelation.

“There is none other appointed unto you to receive commandments and revelations.”

The revelation was lengthy and commanded the elders to provide food and raiment for the prophet and his family, and also that the elders should be sober and keep all the commandments. Joseph ended the meeting with strong words of his own: “God has sent me here. The devil will have to leave, or I will.”

Work on the New Testament continued while the March winds whistled past the small log cabin. At the end of a tiresome day’s work, Joseph and Sidney lapsed into quiet conversation regarding Leman Copely, a former Shaking Quaker. “I hear he has been exhibiting some sort of strange behavior.”

“It is not so strange,” Sidney clarified. “It is just his special form of worship.”

“Are you certain that is an accurate description?”

“He used to be a follower of Ann Lee.”

“Yes, I know. A Shaking Quaker.”

“Quaker because of their drab dress, and shaking because of their form of worship. But, Brother Leman has converted.”

“I hope so. He is our benefactor on the Thompson site.”

“It’s his Shaker background that allows him to be so generous.”

Joseph sat thoughtfully, then said, “Why does he continue to shake in his worship?”

“He doesn’t seem to know. He is growing in faith. He’s been eager to return to his Shaker community with the word of the Lord as he now understands it.”

“Hmm,” Joseph mused. “That might be a good idea.” Soon afterward, he received a revelation for that elder to preach to the Shakers. Other elders were appointed to accompany him along the way.

Spring brought new buds on the trees, the pleasant chirping of birds, and continued work on the New Testament. Emma’s belly continued to swell. Joseph’s memory of her first pregnancy and the disheartening outcome often haunted him. He worried about her health and remained close to home. He helped with the household chores as best he could but he hardly knew what to do.

As the time for delivery neared, a member of the community, Mrs. Morely, offered her help and that of her two teenage daughters. Joseph, in the face of Mrs. Morley’s efficiency, began to feel out of place. He was about to leave for an evening stroll when Emma began having hard pains and contractions. He decided to stay close to home and lingered outside the bedroom.

He glimpsed through a crack each time one of the Morely girls opened and closed the door as they passed through to the kitchen area. They seemed to need a steady stream of boiled water and clean cloths. Joseph could hear Emma’s stifled screams. Nervously, he paced the puncheoned floor. Then all was quiet. Minutes passed until the groans and screams continued. Joseph began to pace at a faster pace. He decided to get some air.

Outside, he breathed deeply as he eased forward to the porch railing, bathed in the quiet of the night. Emma’s intermittent cries were even more distant. Overhead, the sky glittered with the twinkle of many stars. An owl hooted in the distance. Then, the solitude of the night was shattered by a frightful scream. He anxiously moved toward the door, resisting the impulse to enter. Then he heard the footsteps of Mrs. Morley as she joined him in the evening air. She wore no smile.

“There are two babies. A boy and a girl.”

Joseph raised his arms to scratch his head. “Well, I’ll be.”

Mrs. Morely kept her voice low. “They are very small and seem to be in poor health. It would have been better if they’d waited a few more weeks. But there’s no sense complaining about what cannot be changed.”

“How’s Emma?”

“She’s weak and needs rest. She’ll be okay.”

The midwife turned to face him. “You should see to it that Emma eats well. The babies are going to need as much nourishment as they can get.” She wrapped a scarf around her head and motioned for her daughters to join her. “I’ll stop by in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joseph said. Then as an afterthought said, “Thank you for all your help.” He turned to the room where Emma lay and opened the door. He found his wife on her side, her body curved around one tiny new life, while her eyes gazed at the second infant lying nearby. Dark circles of exhaustion encircled her eyes. Joseph bent over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

“They aren’t well.”

“Mrs. Morley will be by in the morning.

Emma kissed the forehead of the infant that lay in her arms. “It may be too late.”

The babies were named Thaddeus and Louisa. One hour passed and then another. Thaddeus let out a soft whimper, while Louisa gasped and wheezed. The small infant’s breathing was strained. Some time during the third hour, both infants died. Joseph sat round shouldered on the bed next to Emma.

“I’ve lost all three of my babies,” Emma cried, one hand shielding her tear-stained eyes. “I’ll hate myself if you can’t be a father because of me.”

“Because of you?” Joseph gently pulled her hand from her face and peered into her eyes. Softly, he said, “This is the work of the Lord.”

“It’s a cruel God who causes such pain and unhappiness.”

Joseph squeezed Emma’s hand affectionately. “There’s a purpose for our trials. And there will be more babies.”

Emma sobbed and muttered, “More dead babies?”

In the days that followed, Joseph spent much of his time at home. On the tenth day after the birth, he sat behind his desk reviewing a batch of personnel papers. The door opened and closed followed by a refreshing rush of spring air. He looked up and saw Elder Burnett from one of the many branches that had been created since the organization of the church. He put down his pen, greeted his guest, and motioned for him to be seated. “You look solemn,” he said.

“I am. But it’s good news and bad. The good news is that Brother Murdock’s wife gave birth to a healthy pair of twins yesterday.”

“How wonderful,” Joseph said.

“Yes, well, Sister Murdock didn’t make it.”

Joseph winced and sent up a silent prayer.

“Brother Murdock has no means to care for the babies. We were wondering if Emma could take them on.”

In the midst of life’s harshness, Joseph felt a gentle rush of joy. When he shared the news with Emma, she had no qualms about taking the motherless infants as her own. As the days passed, she found happiness caring for the babies. The Smith’s small household soon became filled with coos and hungry cries. Emma’s health improved rapidly. Joseph found the transition to fatherhood painless and natural.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Next week: Chapter 2: the Colesville Saints Arrive

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read and respond to every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you.

Just Judy, The Author

One Trial after Another

And so, a book was published, and another religion was organized. As with other newborns, it was fragile. There was persistent opposition from those who held onto traditional Christian beliefs and did not feel there was any reason for another witness to Christ. The local ministers and preachers lost all patience as they saw some of their weaker members being led astray. They were open in their opposition and went to great lengths to keep their memberships.

Joseph Knight and his family formed their own branch of the church. They became known as the Colesville Saints. Joseph Knight’s son, Newel, was a strong member and leader of this branch.

Joseph was arrested and taken to South Bainbridge under the charge of ‘disorderly conduct,’ which in this case meant using priestly powers for gain. After several days of confinement, and at the end of his trial, he was acquitted. On his return trip to Fayette, another constable placed him under arrest for additional trumped-up charges. During this second trial, if indeed it could be called such, he had the worthy representation of men who knew the law and were able to break the testimonies of those who would make false accusations. Once again, he was acquitted and released.

Joseph returned to his Harmony home, his wife, and the work of the farm. He maintained correspondence with his friends in Fayette and was disturbed when he learned Oliver Cowdery had publicly accused him of making a false revelation. He was aghast and rightly determined this was not an issue that could be resolved with pen and ink. He made a hasty journey to convince Oliver and the Whitmers the revelation in question was indeed from God. This done, he returned to Harmony where he would often receive visitors.

Some visitors were new converts and some stood boldly in opposition to this new church. One of those who opposed, and was especially outspoken, was Isaac Hale’s brother-in-law, Nathaniel Lewis. This man used his influence to turn Isaac completely against his son-in-law. Joseph and Emma both felt the strain.

Each day brought new problems. Opposition grew so strong that it became apparent that Joseph would have to pack their belongings and, with his family, leave Harmony. They would return to the Whitmers’ in Fayette, New York.

The early fall sun was bright, but temperatures were now cooling. Despite the brightness of the sky, upon his arrival, Joseph’s day quickly became clouded when Oliver informed him that Hiram Page had been giving revelations concerning the building up of Zion.

“By what power or authority?” Joseph inquired.

“He has found a stone of his own.”

“What he sees in that stone is not of God.”

Oliver became angry. “You think you are the only one to receive revelations for the whole church?”

“Most certainly.”

In the days that followed, Joseph often received the word of the Lord: “No one shall be appointed to receive commandments and revelations except for my servant, Joseph Smith Jr.” When Oliver took it upon himself to take a stand against Joseph and his authority, the Lord said, “Thou shalt not command him who is at thy head.” And when the converts began attempting to predict where Zion would be, Joseph heard from the Lord again: “No man knows where the city of Zion shall be built. It shall be on the borders of the Lamanites.” In regard to Hiram Page and his use of a stone, the Lord said, “The things which he has written from that stone are not of me. Satan has deceived him.”

Peter Whitmer and Oliver Cowdery were sent on a mission to the Indians. They were accompanied by two new converts, Parley P. Pratt and Ziba Petersen. They would, of course, preach to all they would meet along the way, but it was expected the bronze-skinned natives would willingly embrace the gospel once they understood their heritage and the blessings in store for them. Armed with nothing more than copies of The Book of Mormon and the copy of the revelation that had sent them on this journey, they set forth, firm in faith.

December winds howled through the rafters the day a sleigh brought two middle-aged men to Fayette. The pounding of horses’ hooves caught everyone’s attention. When the carriage came to a stop, Joseph saw two men step down. The older man had bushy eyebrows with salt-and-pepper hair and carried himself with a dignified air. When he spoke, his enunciation was clear.

“My name is Sidney Rigdon, and this is my companion, Edward Partridge.”

Sidney, it turned out, already considered himself to be an elder of the church. He had been converted by a former member of his church, now one of the brethren and a Mormon. Rigdon had formerly been a minister of the Disciples of Christ until he had a serious disagreement with the sect’s leader, Alexander Campbell. He was now convinced that the Book of Mormon was divinely inspired. “It speaks to my yearnings,” he said.

As for his companion, Edward Partridge, he was a Scotsman and known to be cautious. Even so, he became convinced that the Book of Mormon contained the fullness of the New Testament. Although he may not have been consciously aware of it, he sought assurances from Joseph that he really did speak for God, a claim Edward considered to be very bold.

“What kind of assurances would you have?” Joseph asked.

Edward did not answer immediately. Sidney explained. “We want to come to know you and judge for ourselves.”

Joseph welcomed the men and, in continued conversations, discovered they were part of a community of about one hundred who denounced private property and shared all their goods in common.

“Kind of like the Shakers,” Joseph suggested.

“Heaven’s no!” Edward said. “We are not Shakers and would not travel so far to see Ann Lee. That group certainly does have strange beliefs. It seems to me that they will surely die out with their outrageous views on celibacy. Our intent is simply to return to the days of old and worship in purity as did the apostles of old.”

In the days that followed, the guests were known to be walking about Fayette and nearby Waterloo, openly discussing with neighbors the background of the church and this man who now called himself a prophet. They discovered Joseph had recently been arrested, but when they delved into the particulars of the incident, it was clear that the fault lay with the accusers.

That Sunday, Edward Partridge responded to Joseph’s open invitation to speak. “I believe not only in the gospel that has been brought forth for restoration by also in the latter-day prophet who has been so instrumental in bringing it forth.” Shortly after this public confession, Edward was baptized in the icy waters of the river. Afterward, he was given a blessing and called forth to preach the gospel as with the voice of a trumpet.

Keys to the Mysteries of the Kingdom

Revelations seemed to flow from Joseph’s lips. Sidney Rigdon was informed Joseph had been given the keys to the mystery of those things which had been sealed. Rigdon himself was commanded to write for Joseph. Consequently, the spirit of these two new converts was afire. They exulted, “We will be partakers in the rebuilding of the primitive church. We’ll pave a way for the coming of the Lord and the great millennium.”

One day, Sidney suggested Joseph take on the task of a revision of the scriptures. “Alexander Campbell is working on such a revision. So many people find the King James version difficult to read, although I certainly cannot understand why.”

“Many plain and precious things have been taken from the scriptures,” Joseph said. “I have not asked the Lord for direction along that line, but I have begun work on another book.”

Some of the men showed concern about the lost books mentioned in the Old and New Testaments.

Sidney nodded. “Yes. Like the Epistle of Paul alluded to in Ephesians.”

“It has never been found,” Joseph said. “There are others, as I’m sure you know.

In reading Jude, the fourteenth and fifteenth verses, one is led to believe that Enoch had a revelation concerning the second coming.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“As I have been given the keys to the mysteries that have been hidden from the foundations of the world, I asked about the prophecy of Enoch, and had the word of the ancient lost script opened before me. This is part of the writings of Moses. I must continue that work.”

Sidney’s interest was piqued. “Surely I can help,” he said.

From then on, Sidney served as Joseph’s scribe as he continued to translate what he claimed to be a lost conversation between God and Moses. Soon their work included a translation of the New Testament.

“It’s not a translation,” Sidney said. “It’s already in English. It can only be a revision.”

“We will add many precious things that have been taken from the Scripture and we’ll add them according to revelation. Therefore, it is a translation.”

“Very well,” Sidney said. He was happy to be working beside Joseph, the prophet.

Sidney Rigdon’s contentment was short-lived. He became homesick and missed his wife and family. He began to talk incessantly about the community of believers he had left behind and wanted Joseph to move to Ohio and to merge with his existing community.

At first, Joseph was reluctant to agree but as Sidney continued to talk about this group and the positive aspects of such a move, he decided to seek a revelation. The word of the Lord came with a promise: “I hold forth and give unto you greater riches, even a land of promise, a land flowing with milk and honey. I will give it unto you for the land of your inheritance.”

This revelation caused much discord within the church. The community had grown. Many of the members had lived their lives in that place and were not willing to leave their homes for a strange land. Some felt that such a move, with so many, would be impossible.

Oliver voiced his own concerns and complained: “Ever since that Ohio Preacher came around, he seems to have more influence on you than any man alive.”

David Whitmer had issues as well. “Whatever you want becomes a revelation.”

Martin whined. “They say you invented the revelation to deceive people so that in the end you might gain.”

“I have nothing to gain,” Joseph said, “other than the satisfaction of doing the will of the Lord.”

David continued to speak against the move. “Those that have property they can’t sell don’t want to leave it behind. It’s not easy to rent to strangers. The losses

will be great.”

“You speak only of temporal losses,” Joseph said. “We have been promised a land flowing with milk and honey upon which there shall be no curse when the Lord comes. The farms which will be left behind are insignificant. When the land of our inheritance comes into view, they will have no regrets about what was left behind.” Regarding the subject of relocation, Joseph’s word was final

The End

NOTE: Next week: Part II: Kirtland, Ohio and the Colesville Saints

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.

Just Judy, The Author

PART I: UPSTATE, NEW YORK (Fall, 1833 - January, 1831

Chapter 1: The Stone

Chapter 2: Rest in Peace

Chapter 3: Stowel Hires Joseph

Chapter 4: 1826 Trial.

Chapter 5: You Have Stolen My Daughter

Chapter 6: Plates of Gold

Chapter 7: All is Lost

Chapter 8: A Marvelous Work and Wonder.

Chapter 9: Educated Scribe.

Chapter 10: In Search of a Publisher .

Chapter 11: Right-Hand Man

PART II: KIRTLAND, OHIO (February, 1831 - January, 1838

Chapter 1: Thou Art the Man

Chapter 2: The Colesville Saints Arrive

Chapter 3: Zion Claimed

Chapter 4: Apostasy

Chapter 5: Tar and Feathering

Chapter 6: Poisoned

Chapter 7: Three Rooms and a Baby

Chapter 8: Three New Converts

Chapter 9: Word of Wisdom

Chapter 10: Zion’s Camp

Chapter 11: Missouri Territory

Chapter 12: Prophet on Trial

Chapter 13: Michael Chandler and the Mummies

Chapter 14: Let’s Make Some Money

PART III: FAR WEST, MISSOURI (March, 1838 - April, 1839)

Chapter 1: A Fighting Creed

Chapter 2: The New Law of Consecration

Chapter 3: Rescue of Gallatin

Chapter 4: Hostage or Prisoner

Chapter 5: Jailed at Liberty

PART IV: NAUVOO, ILLINOIS (Spring, 1839 - June, 1844)

Chapter 1: The Ague

Chapter 2: Washington, DC

Chapter 3: Independence of Nauvoo

Chapter 4: Gala Affair

Chapter 5: Restoration of All Things

Chapter 6: Red Brick Store

Chapter 7: Endowed from On-high

Chapter 8: Another Missouri Farce

Chapter 9: Hiding Out.

Chapter 10: Two More Wives

Chapter 11: Kidnapped

Chapter 12: Treachery

Chapter 13: The Character of God

Chapter 14: Enemies Within

Chapter 15: A Public Nuisance

Chapter 16: Ye Shall Become Gods

Chapter 17: They Can Only Kill the Body

Afterword

Fact or Fiction

Bibliography

An Old Man With a Long White Beard

The road was bumpy and studded with tree stumps for a good stretch of the journey. The men braced themselves against the frequent jolts. As they came to a flat, open expanse of land, traveling became easier. They moved slowly over the wheel-trodden trail.

Oliver pointed out the figure of an old man in the distance. He had a long white beard and wore an aged nightshirt that had long since lost its whiteness. His baggy trousers were ragged at the feet. It appeared as though he had worn them for many days. Over his shoulder he carried a sack that appeared to be heavy.”

Oliver’s nature was soft-hearted. “Do you think that we could safely offer him a ride?”

David glanced over the figure and said, “He doesn’t look too harmful.”

Joseph nodded.

David slowed the wagon to a stop.

“Good afternoon,” the ancient said with a quiver in his voice. He wiped droplets of perspiration from his brow with the side of his arm. He smiled through yellowed teeth and thin lips. “It’s rather warm today, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” David said. “Do you need a ride?”

“That’s mighty kind of you, but, no, thanks. I’m going to Cumorah.”

“Cumorah,” Oliver frowned. “Where is that?”

“I’m no stranger here,” Joseph said, “but I’ve never heard of such a place.” He turned to the old man. “Where is he?”

“What? He’s gone.”

The three men looked up and down the road. The man was not in sight. “Where could he have gone?” Oliver asked. “There’s not even a tree to hide behind. He couldn’t simply disappear.” He paused to think. “Yet, he did.”

“It’s not strange,” Joseph said. “I’ll bet that’s the messenger I told you about–the one who is to carry the plates.”

“Such a heavy load,” David mused. “He should have accepted our offer to help.”

Joseph wore a knowing smile. “He doesn’t need our help.”

The slow moving wagon made its way along the tree-lined road that led through the unincorporated village of Fayette. Beyond lay Waterloo, New York. The wagon continued through the frontier village until they found the isolated cabin of Peter and Mary Elizabeth Whitmer, parents of eight children, most of whom were full grown.

“We’re glad to have you,” Peter Whitmer said. “Our place is small, but you are

welcome.”

Peter pointed the way through the door of the two-room cabin. “We have sleeping spaces and a small office in the loft. Have a seat.”

“Do you mind if we take a look upstairs?”

“Come on,” David said. “I’ll show you.”

Joseph surveyed the small room. It was only large enough to hold the desk and two chairs. He sat. “This will do fine,” he said with a smile. And as each day passed, the men heard more and more talk about town concerning Joseph and his work. Some of the Whitmers were readily convinced, while others suffered unbelief. Mrs. Whitmer could barely feign tolerance.

The days were long and the weather was warm, but day after day the men secluded themselves in the tiny upstairs room where they worked from morning until night. Oliver served as principal scribe.

One day, Joseph went to the translating room and found he could not translate. The issues were trivial, but now he sat in his usual place, acting in his customary manner, and nothing proceeded as it should.

“I can’t see,” Joseph cried.

“What do you mean?” David shot a questioning glance toward Oliver.

“He’s blind,” Oliver answered. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Blind?”

“He can’t read the writing on the stone. This happens when his heart isn’t right or there’s some sort of contention taking place. I think he had an argument with Emma.”

“Then it’s not a permanent condition.”

“Heavens, no.”

Joseph pushed himself away from his desk and turned to his aides. “I must go for a walk and get my feelings right. I’ll be back shortly.” He walked through the woods for a while. When he returned to the cabin, he sought out Emma, showered her with affection, and asked for her understanding. She was quick to forgive. Joseph returned to the translating room and to the work.

Later that evening, Joseph and Emma took a quiet and private walk along one of the many foot trails winding through the wooded areas. Emma was quiet, and Joseph sensed she felt uneasy. “I know something is bothering you, so come out with it.”

“I’m fine.”

Actively Sharing Thoughts

“No, you are not. I can tell. What is it?”

“I don’t like to complain. It’s just that Mary Elizabeth seems to resent our presence on account of the work we cause. I try to help her as best I can, but she seems intent on making everyone as miserable as she herself is. She constantly complains about being tired and walks around so lifeless. She’s not an easy person to spend one’s life with.”

“I know. She’s antagonistic toward me as well.”

“But you spend most of your time upstairs.”

“It must be hard for you. But, you won’t have to spend your life with her. When the book is finished–”

Emma flinched and stopped her forward pace. She turned to face Joseph. “Will we return to Harmony?”

Joseph put his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Wait for what?”

Joseph spread his arms out and clasped Emma by the shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes and softly said, “For the will of the Lord.”

“Of course. In the meantime, I wish the Lord would do something about Mary Elizabeth.”

Joseph kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Emma wrinkled her nose. Together, they continued their walk.

On the second morning, the wake-up call was followed by shrieks and cries from out front of the house. It was Mary Elizabeth. “I have seen the golden plates! I have seen the golden plates!” Her voice grew increasingly shrill and then stopped all together. She stumbled into the cabin pale and short of breath.

Joseph had just finished dressing for the day and quickly ran down the stairs. David and Oliver were soon with him.

Mary Elizabeth stumbled across the room toward the kitchen table, her eyes now clear and bright. She seated herself in a high-backed chair, took a deep breath, and began her explanation. “I saw them. I was carrying my pail over to the barn, getting ready to do my milking chores. I saw an old man with a white beard.” She cocked her head and said, “He told me, ‘You’ve been faithful in your labors, but you’re tired because you work so hard.’ Then he said that it was proper for me to receive a witness and he showed me the plates.”

David’s interest was piqued. “What did the man look like?”

“He had a long, white beard and was very old and wrinkled. He could hardly stand straight.”

David, Oliver, and Joseph looked at each other. Oliver asked, “Did he have on an old white nightshirt that wasn’t really white and pants that were ragged along the bottom?”

Mary Elizabeth stopped to think. “I didn’t look at the pants, but his shirt hadn’t been white in quite some time.”

The men exchanged curious glances, and David said, “Could he be the man we met on the road? The man on his way to Cum–?”

“Cumorah.” Oliver said. “That’s the messenger who brought the plates here in the first place.”

David agreed.

The men were filled with wonder and awe. There was a moment of silence, and then Joseph turned to Mary Elizabeth, his voice a mixture of sincerity and surprise. “I’m so happy for you.” Inwardly, he hoped this experience would alleviate her animosity toward him and also ease the burden on Emma.

As the weeks passed, life with Mary Elizabeth was easier. By the end of the month, the book was complete. Joseph let out a sigh of satisfaction. With the translation complete, he turned to other tasks. He sent for his parents, and they soon arrived with Martin by their side

After the usual greetings and announcement that the work was finished, Joseph motioned Martin to follow him as he led the way outdoors and along the narrow path that skirted the Whitmer property. He spoke softly. “This will be the day we view the plates. You must humble yourself before God.”

Martin tightened his forehead and winced. “I’ve tried to practice humility, but it’s very hard.”

Joseph raised his voice ever so slightly. “The Lord has admonished you to be humble, and he would not ask you to do something that you cannot do.”

“But, there are to be three witnesses.”

“Yes. I know who the other two will be. I’m going to get Oliver. Come with me. David, I believe, is working in the fields. We’ll have to find him later.”

“I’m so excited.” Martin became bubbly. “Of all the people on this earth, I will be one of the three who get to see the plates of gold. But there’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“Why, in the beginning, did the Lord say that no man can see the plates and live?”

Joseph became irritated. “Do you remember when you came to visit me in Harmony?”

“Yes.”

“When we found that there were to be three witnesses, you asked if you could be one.”

Martin agreed.

Joseph gave a patient sigh. The men returned to the Whitmer cabin where they found Oliver working in the upstairs room. Soon, Joseph had a revelation. Oliver picked up his pen and wrote Joseph’s words. The revelation was for David, Oliver, and Martin. It promised them a vision that would come by faith and required of them a testimony. Oliver was thrilled to be chosen.

“We must find David, Oliver said.

“I think he is in the fields. We must go find him. Bring the revelation with you.” Joseph turned to Martin and said, “Come along with us.”

He led the way to a far corner of the Whitmer farm where he found David guiding a horse pulling a plow; sweat lined his brows. “What brings you here?” David asked.

Joseph explained there were to be three witnesses. Oliver read the revelation as it had been written. Upon hearing this, David led his horse to a nearby fence where he tethered it. The men climbed over and through a split-rail boundary fence and made their way through a thicket of trees.

After a short walk, they found a fallen tree resting on the ground in a clearing. Here they stopped to talk and prepare themselves for the viewing. They lowered themselves to their knees and Joseph began to entreat the spirit of the Lord. There was no response. He continued to pray, now more fervently, but after several moments, no answer had come.

“Stop!” Martin cried out. He rose to his feet. “I must go. I am the reason there is no vision.” He withdrew from the group.

“No!” Don’t leave!” Joseph turned to follow.

Martin turned back and said, “It is my unbelief and lack of humility that keeps back the spirit.”

Joseph, David, and Oliver, still on their knees, watched as Martin made his way through the trees and away from the small clearing.

Joseph turned to David and Oliver and gave a weak smile. They closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Joseph began to pray vocally. Soon the men were held by a vision of bright light hovering overhead; a cloud, like the veiled figure of a spirit, stood at the center of the light. A book of gold leaves was opened before them, each page turned one by one, until the light, the spirit, and the book faded from their sight.

“I saw the plates,” David said, clearly astonished.

“Me too,” Oliver gasped, his face unusually pale.

Joseph was pleased but also concerned about Martin. He turned and walked through the woods. “Martin,” he called. He stooped to avoid the low-hanging branches. He thought he heard the sound of sniffling. “Martin?” He moved closer to the sound and found his friend leaning against a tree, his face buried in his bent arm. He put a hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“I’ve been praying for forgiveness.” Martin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to blow his nose with excessive force.

“It is not just forgiveness that you need,” Joseph said. “Your pride causes you problems. I told you, you must humble yourself before the Lord.”

“I tried. I so did want to have a witness.”

“You shall have your witness. Come, pray with me.”

The two men knelt. After a moment of intense prayer, Martin cried out, “Tis’ enough! Tis enough! Mine eyes have beheld.”

“Are you sure?” Joseph asked.

“I saw it,” Martin said.

“Come, let’s tell the others.”

By the middle of the month, the men secured a copyright on the work. It was somewhat problematic because the words were merely translated by Joseph. They were written by the ancient inhabitants and, in another sense, his scribes. In compliance with the law, Joseph allowed his name to be listed as author and proprietor.

E.B. Grandin’s Printing Establishment

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

NOTE: Next Week: A famous preacher Invites Joseph to merge believers.

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.

Unexpected Guests Arrive

Joseph stood at his cabin door, his attention focused on the tapping of a woodpecker in the distance. Deep in thought, he gave a self-satisfied smile. During this period of waiting, he had passed his time wisely, working around the farm, tending the small garden he had planted next to the house or the small field of wheat and corn. Occasionally, he had taken odd jobs for wages.

Late that evening, it began to rain. Emma busied herself with a basket of socks, thread, and darning needles. Joseph had started a small fire to ward off the early spring dampness. There was warmth and a pleasant fireside glow. He watched the flames as they danced, deep in thought once again. Raindrops fell heavily on the rooftop.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, attentive. “I hear running horses.” He ran to the window, peered into the night sky, and listened. In the distance, he saw two riders coming his way. He turned to Emma. “Samuel is coming. It looks like he brought someone with him.”

Joseph bounded out the door.

Emma called after him. “Wait! You’ll get wet!”

Joseph darted back and quickly grabbed his raincoat from a peg on the back of the door. He held it over his head and watched as the horses neared and then slowed, their feet clopping in the newly formed puddles of mud. He was surprised to see his cousin, Oliver Cowdery, riding with his brother. He prepared to share his raincoat as a covering but the men quickly dismounted and ran past him into the dryness of the cottage.

“Samuel!” He embraced his brother and then greeted Oliver as well. While they were cousins, they rarely spent large periods of time together, and their relationship was not as close as he would have liked. He motioned toward three hardwood chairs and seated himself, eager to hear whatever news they had brought. Emma was pleased to have visitors and especially to see Samuel again.

Oliver was a soft-spoken man with soft hands. He was fair skinned, with sandy hair and about the same age as Joseph. He was the first to mention Joseph and his work: “Your ma told me a lot about what you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, oh,” Joseph laughed. “ You can’t listen to everything she says.

“Sometimes her tales are a little too marvelous. She means well, but...”

Oliver grinned. “I know what you mean. But, I’ve always enjoyed my conversations with her. I know she likes to embellish a bit as she goes along. Her stories are not without substance.”

Joseph laughed out loud.

“Oliver has been staying at our house for a while.” Samuel explained. “He’s been teaching at the school.”

Joseph’s ears perked. “Teaching? So, you’re a school teacher. I would guess that means that you are pretty good at writing.”

“I hope I can write, for my pupil’s sake. When I have time, I still work on my spelling and grammar.”

Joseph turned to Samuel and said, “Tell me about Hyrum. Did he buy that property he was wanting?”

“Eighty acres.”

“How’s Ma and Pa?” His concern came from his knowledge of the difficulties his parents had experienced in meeting the final payment on their property. Due to a change in land agents, the property had been sold. They had been leasing it, but that lease had expired the previous December.

“They plan to move in with Hyrum,” Samuel said.

“When they were here last winter, they hoped they wouldn’t have to move.”

“They’ve got no choice. They’re being evicted.”

Joseph winced. His parents had worked hard over the years, and it was Alvin’s dying wish that they find comfort in their old age.

“They are well,” Samuel said. “It’s unfortunate, to be sure. Both Hyrum and Jerusha are happy about the move.”

Joseph told Samuel and Oliver about his visitation with an angel, the record, and his recent work on the plates of Nephi.

“How long will it take before you finish?” Oliver asked.

“I can’t tell. I need a scribe. Recently, I received a revelation commanding me to stop for a while.”

“Does God really speak to you?”

Joseph nodded. “Through an interpreter.”

Oliver had a sudden recall. “That’s right! I remember Lucy said something about a breastplate and some sort of silver bow.”

“Now the Lord has also blessed my seer-stone. I don’t use the spectacles much anymore. About the revelation, I expect my need for a scribe will soon be met. That’s why I asked you about your ability to write.”

“Like I said, I am weak in punctuation.”

“Well, just leave the punctuation out. The printer will fix it, I suppose.”

“It sounds exciting, but I don’t know. Let’s give it a few days.”

“You must be hungry,” Joseph said. “Our table is poor, but you are welcome to join us.”

Emma rose with a smile. “I made fresh bread this morning, and I can add a few potatoes to the pot.”

When the meal was finished, Emma gathered the dirty plates and asked Samuel to help clear the table. Soon the happy visitors and their hosts were seated around the hearth once more. The sky rumbled overhead as it continued its downpour.

Emma picked up her sewing basket from behind her chair. The men sat in a relaxed and easy manner. Oliver shared a good deal of his past. His father, a follower of Nathaniel Woods, had raised his family in a little community whose common bond was a matter of faith.

“Did you ever use the rod?” Joseph asked.

“Almost everybody in our community did.”

“Do you sense the spirit through that means?”

“I think so. Sometimes I wonder if the spirit I feel is truly the spirit of God.”

“You mean it could be a false spirit?”

“Maybe. But I was thinking that it could be me.”

Joseph sat thoughtfully for a moment. “I kneel down to speak to God. He speaks to me in my heart and mind and says, ‘I am the Lord thy God.’ I can only believe Him.”

“Still, it’s just something you feel. Sometimes I lose faith. If there is but one God, why do we have so many different religions? They can’t all be right. How does one know which is the truth?”

“You are not alone in your confusion. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I asked those same questions. When I asked which church I should join, the Lord told me I should join none of them. He said they were all an abomination in His sight.”

Getting to Know Oliver

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Oliver said. He shook his head. “Tell us more about the ancient inhabitants.”

“I have a better idea.” Samuel said. He turned to Emma. You have some of the work transcribed, right?”

“Why, yes.”

“Why don’t you read it to us?”

Emma set her darning aside and looked at Joseph.

Joseph stood up. “Let me go get it.” He returned with a small stack of papers.

Emma prepared for her role as reader, smoothing out the folds of her skirt and clearing her lap.

The fire continued to burn slowly. Joseph moved a tallow candle lamp to the table near where Emma sat. She laid the manuscript on her lap and lifted her first page close to the light. She read,

“I, Nephi, having been born of godly parents, taught somewhat in the learning

of my father, and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, I make a record in the language of my father, which consists of the learning of the Jews and the language of the Egyptians.”

The story took place in the beginning of the first year of the reign of Zedekiah, king of Judah. Nephi’s father, Lehi, had lived in Jerusalem all his life. Then, one day, prophets came into the city preaching repentance and warning of a coming destruction. Lehi asked the Lord if it were true. After fervent prayer, a pillar of fire appeared upon a rock before him, and through that pillar Lehi saw visions of events yet to happen.

When Lehi saw the destruction of Jerusalem, it made him tremble. When he heard the Lord’s covenant of a land of promise, he understood his part. He commanded his wife, Sariah, and his sons, Laman, Lemuel, Samuel, and Nephi, to pack their possessions and prepare to travel.

They went into the wilderness by the border of the Red Sea and pitched a tent. Here, the parents waited while the sons returned to Jerusalem to get a set of brass plates. These were the records of the Jews and contained the genealogies of Lehi’s forefathers. Lehi was directed to take these records with him into the wilderness, else they be lost in the destruction of the city.

Laman and Lemuel were usually unbelieving and often contemptuous. Nephi was favored by God, and like his father, often had visions. Samuel never sought to lead and also recognized the goodness of Nephi. He usually did not side with Laman and Lemuel in their wickedness and was mostly faithful to Nephi and to God.

It was Nephi who finally obtained the records engraved on brass plates. He found King Laban lying drunk and unconscious and stopped to admire the man’s bejeweled and gold-plated sword. Nephi was commanded by an angel to slay the King. When he resisted, the angel said, “Better that one man shall perish than a nation dwindle in unbelief.”

Nephi grabbed Laban by the hair, picked up his sword, and smote off the king’s head. Then he disguised himself as Laban and convinced the dead man’s servant to follow him to the walls of the city with the plates. When the servant realized the man he followed was not his king, he started to flee in fear. Nephi caught him and pointed out that he was now a free man.

The servant agreed to join Lehi and his sons in the trek across the wilderness.

Back at his father’s tent, Lehi and Sariah rejoiced at the sight of their sons and received the freed Zoram with gladness. Lehi examined the plates and saw they contained the first five books of Moses, plus all the prophecies since the beginning of time. It also contained a genealogy through which Lehi found he was a descendant of Joseph, the Joseph of the coat of many colors.

Lehi sent his sons back to Jerusalem to seek brides, for without wives there would be no seed. They returned with an elderly couple who had four beautiful daughters.

Lehi had many visions but one of particular interest was when he saw a large and spacious field and a tree with desirable fruit that would make one happy. He went forward and ate the fruit and found it was sweet–-sweeter than any he had ever tasted. It was whiter than any white he had ever seen. When he ate it, his soul was filled with joy. He wanted his family to eat of the fruit.

That’s Pa’s Vision!

Samuel sat up. “Hey! That sounds just like Father’s vision. “I’ve heard that story lots of times.”

Joseph looked up, his face pale.

“It’s Pa’s vision,” Samuel insisted. “I know it is. The tree, the fruit, calling the family to join him–all are identical to Pa’s vision.”

Joseph stammered, unsure how to answer. “There must be an explanation. Could it be that Nephi and Pa shared the same vision?”

“That stretches the imagination. Nephi lived six hundred years before Christ. You’re writing stories you heard at home. Come to think of it, it doesn’t sound much different from the stories you used to tell about the ancient inhabitants. Only your stories were more descriptive.”

“See, if I were making it up it would be different. Nephi just writes what needs to be written.”

Emma spoke for her husband. “When I was serving as scribe, I always felt the story was so vivid and rich that it must be of God. Besides, I know Joe. He can’t write that well.”

“He doesn’t have to. You are doing the writing.” Samuel remained distant and questioning.

Oliver said, “This is a very interesting story. Imagine! They left everything to go into the wilderness. I like the way Nephi chopped off the old king’s head. Thwack!”

Despite his brief protest, Samuel was also interested in the story. “That was wicked. Like the angel said, ‘better that one man should perish than a nation should dwindle in unbelief.’”

Oliver sat on the floor, his legs stretched out, his elbow bent to support his head. Samuel also made himself more comfortable.

Joseph, still seated in his favorite chair, laid his head back. Emma finished reading Lehi’s account of his vision and then began reading Nephi’s prophecy, a clear message of the coming of Christ.

The fire began to spurt and sputter. Emma looked up. Joseph sat absorbed and content. This was a different experience from the translation. Until now, he had been unable to hear how the story flowed.

Oliver and Samuel now lay flat, eyes closed, fast asleep. Joseph reached for a folded quilt that lay nearby, opened it, and covered the sleeping men. He took Emma by the hand and gently blew out the flame of the candle.

He awoke the next morning with an unusual spring in his steps. He hummed as he dressed and prepared for the day. Still lying before the hearth, eyes half-open, Samuel and Oliver began to stir.

“Wake up sleepy heads.”

Oliver and Samuel sat up.

“Oliver, it is the will of heaven that you shall be my scribe.”

Oliver laughed. “I see you have been using your stone again.”

“The stone isn’t always necessary. Some things He leaves for us to learn by ourselves.”

“If it makes you feel better, I believe you are right. Not about the stone. About the scribe.”

“I know I am right,” Joseph said.

Joseph and Oliver spent a pleasant morning discussing their experiences and the things they wondered about. When Joseph spoke, Oliver seemed to understand both word and concept. The men continued their discussions the following day.

After the evening meal, Emma would read until bedtime. Joseph never backed down from his belief that the Lord had sent Oliver to him, and while Oliver did not have the same fiery certainty, he believed it was so. Consequently, the next day they agreed to join efforts.

Oliver took pen in hand and Joseph put the small, dark stone and his face into his hat and blocked out the light. The two men became so engrossed in their work that they lost all sense of time. Hours passed quickly until Joseph stood and knuckled his eyes.

Oliver put down the pen and covered the open ink container. He laid the foolscap to one side. He was awestruck. “I fail to fathom how you do it. Truly, this work must be of God.”

Two days of continuous work had passed when Oliver asked to help with the translation. They prayed about it and Joseph looked through the translator. What he saw was a lengthy revelation that poured forth blessings sprinkled with admonitions and preaching. In relation to Oliver’s request the Lord had said, “I grant unto you a gift to translate, even as my servant Joseph. There are records which contain much of my gospel which have been kept back because of the wickedness of the people. If you have good desires, then you shall assist to bring to light those parts of my scriptures which have been hidden up.”

Oliver wrote the revelation as Joseph received it. When it ended, Oliver sat wide-eyed. “It’s just so amazing to hear the Lord speaking to me. I have no doubts. He has opened my mind and given my life new purpose and meaning. You know, when I was at your folk’s house–after your ma told me about the plates, I prayed to know if the things I had heard were true. The Lord manifested to me that they were, but I kept it a secret.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I had doubts. But just now, when you were–I mean, when God was speaking, He knew about the night I called to him in prayer. It was so personal. How are we going to get the plates I am to translate?”

“You don’t actually have to receive the records,” Joseph said. “Just as I translate while the records are hidden in the woods, it is a spiritual process.”

The Rod of Nature

As each day passed, Joseph encouraged Oliver to translate using the medium he was most familiar with–the witch hazel stick.

Oliver held one end of the Y of the stick in each hand, clearly nervous. “What do I do?”

“Just hold it and wait for the spirit.”

“I am holding it, but nothing is happening.”

“Clear your mind of all other thoughts. Relax and keep open and positive. You’ll know what to say.”

Oliver held the branches intently. He bent forward. He closed his eyes and began to squint in his effort to see even the faintest hint of a letter. “Nothing is happening.” He became frustrated.

Joseph walked around Oliver, contemplating his stance and demeanor. “Look at you.” He stepped forward and held Oliver’s wrist in his hand and shook it lightly. “You only need to hold the rod, not grapple with it.”

Oliver shook and flexed his arms. Joseph stepped back, watchful.

Oliver looked at Joseph. “If I have a thought, how do I know if it is the writing of some ancient plate or if it is just something from my own mind?”

“You have to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on what?”

“The records.

“There are no records.”

“Didn’t the Lord tell you that there were records?”

“Yes. But He did not give them to me.”

Joseph sighed deeply. “Don’t you see me work with my stone? Haven’t you used the rod before?”

Frustrated, the two men returned to their work on the plates of Nephi. After several hours, it became apparent that Oliver continued to feel disappointed in his failure to translate. They decided to stop their work and inquire of the Lord.

The answer came: “Because you did not translate according to that which you desired of me and did commence again to write, it is not expedient that you should translate at the present time. The work which you are called to do is to write.”

Now the day’s work took on a new momentum and brought new questions.

“Have you ever been baptized?” Joseph asked at the end of a productive day.

“Of course. My parents thought it was essential.”

“If Nephi was taught the principle of baptism, it must be equally important in our day.”

Oliver nodded. “It seems that it has been an important principle for salvation throughout time.”

Joseph mused aloud, “If the authority to baptize was taken from the world with the apostles, it would seem that no one has the authority.”

“That would mean the ceremonies performed by the priests and preachers are void,” Oliver reasoned.

“It seems there’s a need for authority, and if so, we need to ask the Lord. Come into the woods with me. We must pray.”

Seemingly alone in the forest, with little sound save the scamper of a squirrel and the chirp of a fledgling, the two men bent down under the low-hanging branches, sun splashed through the leaves. In a small clearing, they reverently dropped to their knees and implored to know the will of God. When they stood, they were sure they had received the authority to baptize. They went straightway to a nearby stream and immersed each other. Later, they went about the neighborhood trying to reason out the scriptures with friends and acquaintances. Many opposed their claim to authority.

Samuel returned to Harmony. He was not immediately receptive when Joseph and Oliver attempted to persuade him concerning the gospel, but as the days passed, he seemed to have peace about him.

Hyrum visited. He felt he had been called to preach, but when Joseph asked the Lord, he learned that he should study and wait a little longer. Thus satisfied, he returned to Manchester.

The couple enjoyed their visitors, but supplies were getting scarce. At times, they passed each day with nothing more than dry corn to eat. The writing supplies ran low and then vanished. Day after day, the two men tried to find work.

Walking toward the cottage after yet another disappointing day, Joseph tried to be strong. “He worketh us in tribulation.”

Oliver, full of gloom, mumbled his response.

The very next day, after another attempt to find gainful employment, they shuffled toward the cottage long faced. There was occasional traffic on the road, but often they walked alone for long periods. In the distance, they spotted a wagon and team along with two distinct figures. Joseph jumped for joy. “That’s old man Knight. I’ll bet he’s brought provisions.”

As the visitors came to a stop, the men briefly greeted each other and then quickly turned to the wagon. There were bushels of grain and potatoes, as well as a barrel of mackerel and a pound of tea.

Then Joseph saw something that really made his eyes widen. He turned toward his companion. “Look, Oliver! Writing supplies!”

Joseph turned to Knight with a bright-eyed grin. “We can really use the food, and I thank you for it. But these other supplies–surely you are sent by God.”

Knight blushed. “It’s just common sense you’d be needing it. I’m as anxious to see this work done as you are. How’s it coming?”

“We had to stop.”

Knight laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s a big load to carry.”

Oliver stepped closer and introduced himself. Joseph explained that Oliver had been working as his scribe. “There has been lots of opposition to our work.”

Knight waived those concerns aside. “Unbelievers. There will always be unbelievers.”

“I don’t know,” Joseph said. “Last time we went to see you, a mob chased us for much of our journey home. And people here in Harmony are beginning to talk.”

Later that day, as the men sat beside the fire, Knight expressed an eagerness to know God’s will for his life. Joseph asked and received his answer: “Whosoever will thrust in his sickle and reap, the same is called of God.”

Weeks passed, and the supplies ran out. Emma became openly frustrated. “We have no food, and soon you will have to stop your work.”

“We have searched for work but found none.”

“What are we to do?”

Joseph placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Trust in the Lord.”

It was only a matter of days when Joseph made his way to his small office and found Oliver reading his mail. He had received a letter from a friend of his who had expressed interest in the gospel.

Soon Joseph received a revelation directing his friend, David Whitmer, and his entire family, to open their home to them. Oliver had written a request that David come to Harmony and bring a large wagon, so it was no surprise when David actually arrived.

“We knew you were coming. Joseph could see you all along the way.”

Oliver and David embraced.

“So you got my letter,” Oliver said.

“I got it all right. And we hear a lot of talk about you in Fayette.”

“My,” Joseph said, “news does travel.”

David was openly excited. “The people in my neighborhood are eager for you to complete this work. My family will welcome you with open arms. It’ll be a better place for you and Oliver to work. We can give you free room and board and whatever assistance you need.”

Joseph had spoken with Emma about the possibilities. She had not been happy to leave her Harmony home, but she loved her husband and planned to be with him all her life. She gave her consent and expressed her desire to follow her husband.

Soon the men began to prepare for their journey. It would be a one hundred and thirty-five mile trip to Fayette, New York. Just before they were ready to leave, David asked, “What are you going to do about the plates? We probably should take some extra measures, in case some of our not-so friendly neighbors decide to waylay us.”

“Don’t worry about the plates,” Joseph said nonchalantly. “They’ll be carried by a messenger.”

“Did you hire someone you can trust?” Oliver asked.

“No. I didn’t hire anyone. I’m only telling you what I know.”

David looked at Oliver and then to Joseph. “You mean, a messenger of the Lord is going to take them to Fayette?”

Joseph nodded and smiled.

NOTE: Coming up: A strange vision, plus meet Mr. Grandin in his printing establishment.

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.

The Mourning Continues

When Joseph returned to Harmony, he found himself unable to shake his dark mood. He continued to mourn the loss of the manuscript. He had done no planting. He had intended to hire out to earn wages, but he passed his time instead as a handyman, repairing missing boards on the side of the cabin, fixing fences, tending to the leaking roof, or any other chores that required him to keep a hammer or saw in his hand. He approached his work with excessive force. At the end of the day, he dragged his feet as he fell into his chair.

Emma put down her needlework and gave him a look of concern. “You’re working too hard. Lately, I watch your approach to life and I see a man who is beating himself. Why do you punish yourself so?”

Joseph looked at his wife, quiet and spent.

“Don’t you realize you punish everyone around you as well?”

Emma’s tone was stern, but her eyes did not lose their tenderness. “It’s hard to talk to you lately. You’re unlike the man I married.”

Joseph bowed his head. He knew Emma had not finished.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, but I’ve been patient. I thought if I waited long enough this depression of yours would pass. But you have gone on like this day after day.”

Joseph stood and went to where Emma sat. He stooped and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry. It is just that I feel I was wrong to have given Martin the manuscript. I should have known.”

Emma pulled back ever so slightly. “But you had a revelation that permitted you to do so.”

Joseph shook his head in self-reproach. “I should not have asked the same question three times.”

“You are human like the rest of us, and the Lord forgives.” Joseph nodded, not that his agreement changed any of his feelings. He still felt despondent, sorry only that his inner turmoil affected Emma so deeply.

Not many days passed before Joseph returned from the woods with good news. “The angel appeared to me again, and gave me the interpreters so I could receive a revelation.” He referred to the spectacles used during the original translation.

“What did he say?”

“He said Martin is a wicked man who broke his most sacred promises. He also said that I am still chosen and this work will go forth.”

“Where are the interpreters now?” Emma asked.

“The angel took them. But it’s only for a while. If I repent and prove faithful, they’ll be returned. Don’t fret. Everything will happen in accordance with the Lord’s will.”

“I hope so,” Emma said.

Joseph still found little peace when thinking of the part he played in the loss of the manuscript. He was pleased to know he would be allowed to continue the work, but waiting was difficult. He began to spend more of his time alone in the woods waiting for further word. Finally, word came. As he crossed the field to his cottage, he saw Emma in the distance. He called to her and then ran excitedly toward her. “I saw the angel again.”

“I knew something happened,” she said enthusiastically.

Joseph laughed, wrapped his arms around his wife, and planted a kiss on her mouth. “I do so love you.”

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in weeks.”

They walked together towards the cottage, hand in hand. “My gift has been restored again, as long as I am faithful and continue to the finish.”

Emma laughed. “I can’t imagine you’d quit short of the task. Did the angel say what took him so long?”

Joseph chuckled at her lighthearted comment and quickly turned serious. “The devil is out to thwart the publication of the book. He would see to it that the stolen manuscript was published in altered form. But we’ll out-trick that one. I’m to begin a translation from a set of small plates, the plates of Nephi. They come from the same time period as the lost manuscript.”

“The plates of Nephi? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Remember when we were working on the original manuscript? The writer said, ‘a more particular account of these things is given on the plates of Nephi.’’

Emma thought back. “Yes. I think I do remember.”

“Now I am to use Nephi’s plates down to the reign of King Benjamin.”

“That’s where we left off.”

“Uh huh. The angel blessed my seer-stone to use as a translator. I won’t need to use the breastplate anymore.”

Emma gave a questioning glance.

“What’s the matter?” Joseph quizzed.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that sometimes it seems things happen at your convenience. But I know you. I’ve watched you. It was just a fleeting doubt.”

“There are many things engraved upon the plates of Nephi that throw greater light on the gospel. Nephi was more concerned with the things of God than of politics.”

“Where will you get the small plates?’

“They were delivered with the first plates.”

Emma shook her head disbelievingly. “It’s almost as if the loss of the original manuscript had been planned. Am I to act as scribe again?”

“Not now. We must wait to return to the work. First, I need to provide for you. The time will come.”

Throughout the remainder of summer, through fall, and into the winter, as Joseph worked around the farm, he knew the time would come when he would continue his task. Patiently, he waited.

The Smith’s Visit

The cold February winds of 1829 brought a change of pace and a pleasant surprise when Joseph and Emma received a visit from Joseph’s parents. Until that moment, Joseph hadn’t realized how much he had missed them.

Lucy drew her covering up close to her throat as she lowered herself from the wagon. She turned toward her son and said, “I was worried about you.”

Father Smith took his wife by the arm and led her into the cabin. He returned to help Joseph unload the bags. He spoke over the wind. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Are the plates safe?”

Joseph nodded as he handed the lightest bag to his father.

“Everything is fine.”

“How’s Emma? Is she well?”

“I know she grieves over the loss of the child but she does not complain.”

Joseph pushed the cottage door open with his foot. Lucy was standing in awe at the beautiful hardwood floor. Joseph proudly showed his loft work space and then led his guests to seats before the low-burning fire. There was an amber glow against the maple flooring.

“How are things going with the translation?” Lucy asked.

“It’s hard to take care of a family, farm, and translate. And we hardly have any supplies. Mostly, I’m waiting.”

“If this is the Lord’s work, surely He will open a way.”

Joseph smiled. “Surely He will. Sometimes I feel I can hear Him whisper: ‘Be patient.’”

“I sure would like it if He would whisper to me and let me know what I am to do.”

“He doesn’t always whisper, Father. Come. Kneel with me, and I’ll ask for guidance on your behalf.”

“You can get a revelation for me?” Father Smith scooted forward in his chair and dropped to his knees.”

Joseph placed his hands on his father’s head. Lucy watched quietly. Emma prepared to write.

Joseph closed his eyes. After a moment, the blood seemed to drain from his face. His eyes, now opened, held a luminous glow. “Behold, a marvelous work is about to come forth among the children of men.” He addressed his father’s anxieties about God’s will for his life. “If you desire to serve God, you are called to work.”

He gave his father a blessing and admonished him, “Remember temperance, patience, humility, and diligence.”

Joseph’s face slowly regained his color. He had no doubt his father would be a willing servant.

The days passed quickly now. It had been good to see his parents and Emma enjoyed their company. She got along better with Lucy now that she was in her own home. On their departure, Joseph promised to write.

Within a few days, the word Joseph had been waiting for came. Emma began to work in her role as scribe. When the March winds began to howl and Martin returned to the cabin, little work had been accomplished. “I realize Emma has much to do. I came to re-enlist as your scribe.”

Joseph looked over Martin, uncertain. “You should be home tending your farm.”

“I was. Then I got to thinking about this work. I’m in plenty of hot water at home. Dolly says if I finance the golden Bible, it’ll ruin me. She even threatens divorce. Then I realized that in all the time I’ve worked with you, I haven’t seen the plates. How can I be sure you’ve got the records of ancient inhabitants? If I were to see the plates, I’d know for sure.”

“We’ve been over this time and again, Martin. Have you ever heard of faith?”

“I need to know if you really have ancient records, otherwise, I can’t help with the publication.”

Joseph bristled. “Don’t threaten me. I’ve told you many times, I made a promise not to show the plates.” He pointed his finger in Martin’s face, accusingly: I don’t take solemn vows as lightly as you.”

Martin stared at his feet ashamed. “I know what I did was wrong. That was because I had doubts. If I could see the plates, I’d know for sure. I’d be free to help in the printing.”

Joseph stroked his fingers through his hair. He turned to face Martin. “Sometimes, I think even if God Himself appeared before you, you still wouldn’t feel an assurance that would stick.”

Martin sighed heavily. “Sometimes, I myself wonder. But, doesn’t the book say there will be three witnesses?”

“Yes. It does say that.”

“Maybe I’ll be one of them.”

Joseph sighed, exasperated. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He chose to mollify his friend. He took the stone and put it in his hat, in search of the will of God.

“Behold,” he said, “Martin has desired a witness from my hand. I, the Lord, am God and I have given these things to my servant Joseph. I have reserved these things for a wise purpose. It shall be made known unto further generations. The testimony of three of my servants shall go forth with my words unto this generation. Three shall know of a surety that these things are true. I will give them power that they may behold and view. To none else will I grant this power.”

After a few words of admonition, and a strong call to repentance, Joseph continued to speak for the Lord. Referring to Martin he said, “He exalteth himself and does not humble himself sufficiently before me. If he will bow down before me and humble himself in mighty prayer and faith, in the sincerity of his heart, then I will grant him a view of the things that he desires.”

There was a special message for Joseph. “When thou hast translated a few more pages, stop and stand still for a season. I will provide means whereby thou mayest accomplish the things which I have commanded thee.”

Joseph opened his eyes. He felt spent. Experience told him the weakness was fleeting.

Martin looked at Joseph hopefully. “He didn’t say no.”

“But He did admonish you to humility.”

Joseph began to feel encouraged. The Lord had said he would provide a means to accomplish his work, which he understood would be a capable scribe. With this hope, he set himself to wait.

NOTE: Next week: Meet the scribe, Oliver Cowdery, and learn about the powers of the rod-of-nature.

Joseph and Emma’s Harmony Home

Joseph and Emma’s two-room cottage came equipped with basic furnishings, hardwood maple flooring, and a fireplace facing the north. There were two staircases, one leading to the loft overhead and the other to a root cellar below. The couple was eager to settle and were excited as they walked from one level to the next, making decisions as to where they would put their belongings.

“Let’s divide this room,” Emma suggested. She twisted to survey her surroundings. “We can use this area for sleeping.”

“Wonderful idea,” Joseph said. He strolled to the east side of the loft. “This can be my place of work. It will give good sunlight all day.”

Emma smiled. “If I know you, you’ll work into the night as well.”

Suddenly, Emma turned serious. “Of course, we’ll need to plan a room for the baby.”

“In time, I hope so,” Joseph said.

“It is time,” Emma said.

Joseph could hardly contain himself. “We’re going to have a baby? I can’t believe this!” Gleefully, he kissed his bride. The two went about making the house their home.

At the end of the first week, Isaac paid an unexpected visit. “I was gratified to hear you gave up glass-looking and plan to work hard for a living.” He paced before the fire, his long, heavy coat still buttoned, his cap covering his ears. His hands were clasped behind his back. “I believed you were willing to change your habits.”

Abruptly, he stopped and glared at Joseph, his eyes full of disappointment. “Now, I hear you spend your days translating characters from a mysterious set of plates you brought with you from New York and you’re still working with that stone.”

Joseph tried to calm his father-in-law. “I intended to quit. Honest, I did.”

“Where did you get those plates?” Isaac demanded.

Joseph broke eye contact. “I’d rather not say.”

Isaac shifted his eyes to Emma.

“He uncovered them from a hill near his parent’s house.”

“I heard some talk about an angel.”

“A heavenly messenger showed me where to dig,” Joseph said.

“You continue to communicate with spirits?”

Joseph gestured toward the large, polished, wooden clothes chest placed against the wall on the opposite side of the room. A smaller, unfinished box lay upon it. “Here, let me show you.”

“Oh, no!” Emma cried out. “You can’t show him! She covered her face with her hands.

Joseph raised his hand to signal Emma that all was well. The two men stood in front of the wooden case.

“Are the mysterious plates in this box? Why, it’s nothing more than a box used for the most common window glass.”

“I needed something to keep them in. Feel the weight of it.”

Isaac stepped closer. “Let me look inside. I want to see the plates, not a box.”

“You can’t look inside.” Joseph put out his arm to block Isaac. “It is forbidden.”

“Forbidden! If there is anything in this house that I can’t see, you must take it away. If not, I’m determined to see it.”

“As you wish. I’ll move the plates. To look upon them means certain death. I can’t be the cause of that.”

“Hogwash!” Isaac stomped across the room and placed his hand on the door. He turned and said, “I plan to drop by again. I expect that box and those plates to be gone. And I don’t want any of your tricks.” He slammed the door as he left.

Emma began to sniffle. Joseph knelt before her. “Don’t cry.” He wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Silently he wondered: Why does he have to act like such an animal? For Emma’s sake, he remained silent.

Gently, he stroked Emma’s hair and said, “I wish there was something I could do to get him to accept me.”

Emma wiped her eyes with her apron. “We Germans are known for our stubbornness. It isn’t your fault.”

“I’ll move the plates into the woods.”

“But how will you translate?”

“It will happen. Wait and see.”

Early the next morning, Joseph and Alva carried the glass box to a secret place in the woods. Joseph wondered if they should have begun earlier, but he convinced himself he was probably safe.

Joseph and Emma Work on Translation

The work on the translation continued. Several days later, after breakfast and completion of the most basic chores, Joseph and Emma prepared to work.

Joseph wanted to sit by the warmth of the fire instead of in his usual place in the upstairs loft. He fastened the breastplate in place and looked through the interpreters as he read. Work was going well when suddenly he stopped, recognizing the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.

Isaac burst into the cottage and looked about the room. “What’s this about?”

Joseph removed the breastplate and spectacles and laid them gently on the floor. He arose to meet Isaac’s fury.

Emma put down her writing and stepped toward her father. Isaac pushed her aside and stared intently at Joseph. “What are you doing? I know you moved them. This morning I heard Alva tiptoe out the door and I saw you two sneaking around in the early morning light.”

“The translation is spiritual,” Joseph said. “It isn’t necessary for the plates to be present.”

Isaac put his hands on his hips and bobbed his head from side to side as he spoke. “Then, why were you given them in the first place?”

Joseph and Emma looked at each other, both felt defenseless.

Isaac sighed deeply and slouched forward. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t actually need the plates present.” He turned and walked out the door.

Joseph sat with his head supported by his hands. “Must I live with persecution forever?”

Emma was silent as she moved closer to him.

Joseph shrugged. “Let’s just go on with the work.” He placed the breastplate on his chest and fastened the strap before adjusting the spectacles. He put his eyes against the instrument and began to read slowly: “A,” he said, and then paused. “N, d, i, t, c, a, m, e, t, o, p, a, s, and another s.”

Emma wrote: and it came to pass.

They continued to work until late in the afternoon. Emma insisted she be allowed time to tend to her chores. “You can’t work day and night. You must eat, and you must sleep.” Emma walked toward the kitchen.

Joseph followed close behind. “Women,” he chided, “always so practical.”

Emma smiled as she teased. “You know you’d be lost without me.”

Joseph agreed. He was pleased with himself and the work they had accomplished.

“Tell me, Emma, what do you think about our work?”

“It’s not an easy task to sit and write all day. But I know you, and I know you couldn’t write such words.”

“Remember my very first letter to you?”

“Yes,” Emma giggled. “I remember them all. You never did write a clear and complete sentence. Your grammar and spelling left much to be desired.“

Joseph blushed. “How could I, a poorly educated farmer’s son, hope to win the heart of a beautiful young school teacher? But I had to write to you.”

The days continued, one much like the next. Isaac went away on hunting trips for stretches at a time, and the work continued without interruption. A story began to unfold. It claimed to be a history of the Indians written hundreds of years before the time of Jesus Christ. It told of their government and politics and revealed much about their way of life.

Emma lifted her eyes toward the small cottage window and realized that the sun had nearly set. “We have spent another day writing.” She wiped the quill, covered the ink, and began to organize the foolscap. She rose and headed to the kitchen. “I haven’t done anything about preparing dinner.”

Joseph blocked her passage “You’ve helped me. That’s more meaningful right now than the finest home-cooked meal.”

“That’s good,” Emma said, “because all we have is a little corn. You haven’t hired out to earn money or done anything to purchase supplies.”

“Your father probably has a freshly killed deer that will not keep.”

Emma placed her fingertips on Joseph’s lips. “I think he’d give it to a stranger before he would give it to us.”

Joseph kissed her on the forehead. “Not to worry. The Lord will provide.”

“I certainly hope so.” Emma began to grate the last of her corn.

Joseph sorted through the cut wood in search of the best piece to add to the fire.

Emma tried to sound casual as she continued to work the corn across the grater. “Mrs. McKune stopped by the other day.”

“That busybody?”

Mrs. McKune was the wife of the Methodist preacher of the church Emma attended for a number of years. Joseph had applied for class membership and had been accepted until the reverend, who had been out of town, returned and charged that he was a disgrace to the church because of his practice of necromancy. To keep the peace, Joseph reluctantly agreed to make a public request to have his name stricken from the class book.

Emma laid the corn aside. Without thinking, she made an audible sigh. “People are beginning to talk about you and this book.”

Joseph groaned. “I can’t stop, Emma. I do this by commandment.”

“I understand. I’ll stand by you. I just wish God would give me a little more strength and help me remain steadfast. Sometimes I wish none of it were so. Maybe if I could see the plates.”

Joseph hit his forehead with the palm. “How can you even ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that sometimes I feel that you don’t trust me.”

Joseph put his arms around his wife. “It’s not a question of trust. You know that. I must protect the plates and you.”

Martin sets out to visit the learned.

The days passed quickly. Joseph and Emma moved about comfortably in the small Harmony cottage. Within a few days, Martin came to pick up the copy of the characters that Joseph had prepared. It would be interesting to see what a language professor would say. He watched as Martin placed the copy in a large, flat, leather traveling case. “You hurry back,” he said.

“It might be hard to find someone who knows Egyptian.”

“It’s a reformed Egyptian.”

“Well, it’s still Egyptian.”

“Let’s wait and see what the professor has to say.”

Another period of relative calm allowed Joseph to return to the translation work. He remained so engrossed in this task and the days passed by so swiftly that it came as a pleasant surprise when Martin entered the cabin. He seated himself at the kitchen table across from Joseph. He was high spirited in his recount of the

events of his journey to the eastern states.

“First, I went to visit an important professor at Rutgers. His name is Mitchell– Samuel Mitchell. He knows so much that some people call him a living encyclopedia. He looked at the characters, but he couldn’t figure it out. He said he was unqualified to give an opinion, so he sent me to his other fellow.”

Joseph wished that Martin would shorten the story. “What does he teach?”

“Language. Mostly Greek and Latin. He said the characters are Egyptian, Chaldaic, Assyrian, and Arabic. He gave me a signed certificate saying so.”

Joseph’s interest was clearly piqued. “Let me see it.”

Martin lowered his head. “I can’t. The professor wanted to know more about the characters so I told him about the plates and how an angel had revealed them to you. When he heard this, he grabbed the statement and tore it up.”

Joseph rolled his eyes.

“Professor Anthon asked me to bring the plates to him for translation. I told him it wouldn’t be possible, that part of the book was sealed. He said he couldn’t read a sealed book.”

Joseph walked across the room to a small table where the family Bible rested. “How many different religions have you embraced in your lifetime, Martin?”

Martin pondered. “Well, I was a Universalist for a while, and then a Restorationist. After that, I became a Baptist and then a Presbyterian Why?”

“I was just thinking, with all that church going, didn’t you get familiar with the scriptures and the prophecies of Isaiah?”

“They say I can quote scripture chapter and verse at length–which, of course, is an exaggeration. But I know my Bible pretty good.”

“Try reading Isaiah.” Joseph opened the book to the twenty-ninth chapter and passed it to Martin. “Read this, beginning with the eleventh verse.”

Martin read slowly. “And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men deliver to one that is learned saying, “Ready this, I pray thee. And he saith, I cannot for it is sealed.” Martin stood wide-eyed, his mouth half open.

“Sit down,” Joseph said, amused at Martin’s wonder. “You’ve just fulfilled a prophecy.”

Martin sat.

Joseph returned the book to its place. “God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise and weak things to confound the mighty.”

“We’ll publish that book if it takes all of my worldly possessions,” Martin promised.

“That’s the spirit.” Joseph patted Martin on the back. “Now, I must continue to translate, even if it requires all my human effort.”

Martin returned to Manchester. He left behind a promise to return to Harmony and relieve Emma as scribe. Joseph knew he needed to give Emma a break. As her pregnancy advanced, she seemed to tire easily, but he wasn’t very satisfied with the idea of Martin as a scribe. Still, Martin could write.

Spring buds had begun to sprout under the April sun of 1829. Joseph looked down the road that led to his cottage. He recognized the carriage in the distance.

Image 2.9 5/17/2026-1 Dolly Ransacks house

IMAGE: Dolly Ransacks Cottage

“Martin is coming,” he called to Emma. “It looks like he’s got someone with him.” He watched as the carriage neared. “Oh, my goodness! He’s brought Dolly with him.”

Joseph wore an amicable smile as the carriage came to a stop close beside him. “Martin, I expected you’d be coming, but I’m surprised to see Dolly. Who’s taking care of your farm?”

Dolly, a large woman with heavy wrinkles, dismounted gracelessly. She stood in front of Joseph, her hands on her hips. “I’ve heard so much about these marvelous gold plates of yours that I decided to see for myself.”

“I tried to tell her,” Martin said. “She wouldn’t listen.”

Dolly lifted her full skirt and marched toward the cottage. She turned to face the men before entering and announced, “I have come to see the plates and I won’t leave until I do.”

Joseph pushed his way through the door. “To look upon the plates means instant death. I can’t even show them to my wife.”

Dolly looked squarely at Joseph. “I’ve worked hard and long with my man to help manage our farm, which is many times bigger than this small patch. I can’t stand by and watch him invest in your delusion. If there are gold plates, I intend to see them.”

“Dolly,” Emma’s voice was soft yet firm. “The plates aren’t in the house.”

“I’ll see for myself.” Dolly headed for the kitchen. She banged cupboard doors, uncovered barrels, and turned over baskets, often dumping the contents on the floor or a table. Emma paled as she watched the woman turn orderliness into chaos. The two men stood by, arms folded across their chests, as if waiting for a storm to pass.

“Stop!” Emma shouted. “This is my house! You’ve no right to come in here like this.”

Dolly stood and looked at Emma, her hands on her hips. “I have every right. My husband has invested in this work and if I don’t watch things he’ll give everything away.”

She completed her search of the cabin then tossed her wrap around her shoulders and headed toward the door, passing Joseph and Martin as though they were not even there. Before walking out, she turned to Emma and said, “If

the plates aren’t in the house, they must be outside, hidden behind some bush or tree. Even if they’re buried, there must be some sign of recent digging. I’ll find them.” She stormed out the door.

Joseph scrunched his face as though in pain. “One can’t stop a tornado,”

Martin shook his head sorrowfully. “I know. I live with her.”

Emma began to restore order to her kitchen. Within a quarter of an hour, Dolly returned.

“I can’t find the plates. Maybe there are no plates and you are a grand imposter. Plates or no, by your specious pretentious you have seduced my husband into the belief that you are a great one. But I can protect my interest. You’ll see.” She pointed and shook her finger at Joseph. “I won’t let you strip my husband of everything.”

During the next two weeks, Dolly boarded in town and spent much of her time spreading her evil tales. Rumors began to buzz throughout the small community. Frustrated, Joseph asked Martin, “Can’t you send her home?”

“She left this morning. At least, she was supposed to.”

Joseph looked skyward and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens.”

That night, Joseph and Emma fell quickly and soundly to sleep. Martin slept restlessly on the floor near the hearth. In the morning, Joseph allowed Martin to act as scribe but insisted they work in the upstairs loft, partly to avoid Isaac’s interference and partly to keep a sense of secrecy about the work. He extended a rope across the room and draped a blanket across the line.

“What’s that for?” Martin asked, pen in hand.

“To ensure privacy. I want you to sit here.” Joseph motioned to a chair close to the window. “I’ll sit on the other side.”

“But why do you have to hide?”

“I’m not hiding. This is a necessary precaution, in case your curiosity gets the best of you. Remember, I have been charged not to let anyone see the plates upon penalty of death.”

“I thought the plates were hidden in the woods.”

“Please, Martin,” Joseph said, and he closed the curtain.

The work went forward slowly, the stack of ink-stained paper inched higher and higher. Martin often spoke of the publication of the book and the money he hoped to make on his investment and frequently complained of the burden he had to bear. One day he threw open the curtain and presented his complaints with a new

slant. “We’ve got to let Dolly read this wonderful tale herself.”

Joseph looked up and said, “When we’re finished with the work, she can read it.”

By mid-June, 116 pages had been completed. The work stopped when Emma became ill. She began to hemorrhage periodically and had several sessions of false labor that felt the same as the real thing except the pain brought no birth. She spent much of her day confined to bed under the care of a midwife.

Joseph helped to tend to Emma as best he could. He ignored Martin’s complaints about the inconvenience with no woman to cook and clean and tried hard to maintain his patience until one day Martin asked, “Why don’t you let me take the manuscript to Manchester? If I could show it to Dolly, she’d believe. I know she’s

bull headed and has a temper, but Dolly is my wife and I don’t want to lose her. Maybe if she saw the work she’d soften her attitude. Besides, I’m afraid to go home without offering her some proof.”

“I don’t think anything will soften that woman’s attitude. Besides, I can’t let you take the only copy. What if something were to happen?”

“What could happen?”

“Any number of things.”

“Like what?”

Joseph rocked back and forth on his heels and toes, thinking.

“I’ll be careful. Come on, Joe. Look into the stone and ask if I can show the manuscript to Dolly. I’m sure it’s okay. Besides, if we can’t convince her, she’ll take a strong stand against us.”

Joseph’s manner was easy and confident. “All right. I’ll ask.” He placed his face in the stone-filled hat. He waited for a response and then looked up. “The answer is no.”

Martin gasped. “That can’t be. Maybe you didn’t pray hard enough. Try again.”

Joseph repeated the motions. “The answer is still no.”

“You need a rest,” Martin said. “Emma is sick and you haven’t had time to work. I know it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll guard it with my life. Nothing will happen. I promise.”

A Solemn Oath

“You try my patience, but I’ll ask one more time.” This time Joseph received a positive response. “Martin, you can take the manuscript, but you must agree to show it only to five people.”

“What about Dolly?”

“Dolly is one. Also her sister, Abigale, your brother, Preserved, and your parents. You must take a solemn oath that you won’t show it to anyone else.”

Martin made his covenant with ease and then returned to Manchester, manuscript in hand. Emma grew worse and became feverish. Joseph had reason to fear for her life and stayed by her side through the many fretful nights. He napped as he could during the day. He had no thoughts other than Emma’s health.

Finally, the day came when delivery appeared to be imminent. It was a trying day that led to an equally trying night. The midwife was with Emma constantly. Then, at the end of one, long, pain-racked night, Emma delivered a stillborn child.

“Oh,” Emma cried, “I so wanted to have a baby.” She had deep circles under her eyes.

Joseph knelt beside the bed and placed his hand in hers. Gently, he brushed away her tears and lightly kissed her on the cheek.

After two weeks, Emma began to gain strength, and her cheeks showed a hint of color. She began to move about the cottage slowly and also to take charge of the various household chores. Joseph was surprised when she said, “You need to recover that manuscript.”

“The manuscript! That’s right. I’ve hardly given it a thought.”

“I’m fine now. I’ll feel even better when you return with the manuscript. I don’t trust Martin. He means well, but–.”

Joseph nodded his understanding. The following morning he saddled his horse and packed provisions for his journey. It had been a long time since he spent an extended time in the saddle. In the early morning of the third day, he embraced his parents with pleasure. He lost no time in sending Don Carlos with a message for Martin asking that he bring the manuscript. Martin sent word that he

would come the following day.

At daybreak, Father Smith went to the fields to work. Samuel and Don Carlos joined him, while Hyrum stayed behind to wait nervously at Joseph’s side. Lucy and the girls busied themselves with the household chores.

The hours ticked by slowly. When the workers returned, eager for the midday meal, the brothers exchanged looks of concern. Joseph gave one last look out the window and noticed Martin making headway in a slow and measured tread, his eyes fixed thoughtfully toward the ground. “Here he comes,” Joseph announced.

Hyrum rushed to the window.

Martin passed the gate and raised himself to the top fence rail.

He sat with his hat down over his eyes.

“What’s he doing?” Joseph asked.

Martin hopped down from the fence and made his way toward the entranceway. He still wore his hat low over his face. He walked with his shoulders slouched. He entered the cabin and removed his hat, a pale, sickly look on his face.

Hyrum stepped forward. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Joseph stood leaning against the window frame. “You don’t look well.” He glanced at the man’s empty hands. “And it looks like you didn’t bring the manuscript.”

Martin pressed his hands against his temples and cried in a tone of deep anguish. “I have lost my soul.”

Joseph stood straight. “You have lost your soul or you have lost the manuscript?”

“What’s the difference? It is the same.”

Joseph’s face was ashen, his voice commanding. “Did you break the covenant?”

“I showed it only to those people I was allowed to show. Then I gave it to Dolly to lock in her bureau on account of it being a safe place with a lock and key. Later, a friend of mine wanted to see it. He was curious. I went to get the key from Dolly but she was out. I picked the lock but the manuscript was gone. Dolly was very angry that I broke the lock on her bureau.”

“Rightfully so,” Hyrum said. “It was in a safe place all right. Safe from everyone but you.”

“There must be some mistake,” Joseph said.

“I showed it to another friend and then put it back in the bureau. A few days later, another friend stopped by. The one I first told you about. He wanted to see it, but it was gone.” Martin began to weep.

“Maybe you overlooked it,” Joseph said hopefully.

“No. It’s all in vain. I’ve already searched everywhere. I even ripped open the bed pillows.”

Joseph’s head hung low. “All is lost,” he cried. “What shall I do?

I can’t return to my wife with such a tale as this. How will I appear

before the Lord?”

Martin wiped away his tears. “Dolly suggested that since the writing

came from divine communication, it should be easy to replace. I mean,

it’s a lot of work, but can’t you translate it again?”

Lucy gave Martin a fiery glance. “Dolly probably took it herself.” “Don’t be silly,” Martin said. “Why would she?”

“Because she is evil.”

Joseph lost control. “Martin, this is your fault. You made a solemn covenant before God.”

Martin moaned. “I was weak. I know that.”

Joseph stared at Martin. “We cannot go on with this work shrugging our shoulders as if these events are incidental. You have broken a solemn covenant.”

Martin turned away ashamed.

Joseph continued to grieve for the loss. He did not want to listen to Martin anymore. Heartsick, he turned and walked out the door.

# # # # #

Next Monday: Lucy and Joseph Sr., visit the Harmony Cottage, Joseph

and Martin squabble.

Chapter 6: Plates of Gold

Sneaking Out of the House Late at Night

Joseph and Emma lingered at the Smith’s Manchester home. Emma seemed content. Her trip to Harmony had done wonders for her outlook.

As the end of September neared, Joseph became aware of an approaching commitment. He had discussed his visions and knowledge of a hidden record with his family over the years. Alvin had believed his tale, and while Joseph had been reluctant to tell his father, he too had received the news and the story well. Lucy Smith had long been convinced that her son would one day play an important role in bringing forth further information about the early inhabitants.

Outside the family, Joseph was faced with skepticism and unbelief. He had told Parson Reed of a visitation he had from a heavenly messenger and his intention to uncover an ancient record, but Reed asserted that visions and revelations had ceased with the apostles. Any visitation Joe had could only be from the devil.

“Quit your lying habits or you’re going straight to hell,” Reed warned.

After this encounter, Joseph was reluctant to ask Willard to build a wooden chest to house the record he expected to uncover. He feared such an act could expose him to the possibility of ridicule and derision, especially if Willard were to spread the story all over town. “Still,” he said to himself, “I need a container.”

Joseph made his way to the back of Chase’s barn where he found Willard sawing a two-by-four. “Willard, you work so well with wood and nails. I bet you could build me a chest.”

Willard stopped his sawing and looked up with an aura of skepticism. “What kind of chest?”

“A small one. So that one person can carry it.”

“What do you want it for?”

Joseph showed his reluctance to answer. “Can’t you build it without knowing what it’s for?”

Willard set aside his tools. He faced Joseph, his arms folded in front of his chest. “If I don’t know what it’s for, how am I going to know how big to make it?”

Joseph scratched at his head. “I’d guess about nine inches wide and eleven or twelve inches long. That should work well.”

“Uh-huh. That wouldn’t have anything to do with those golden plates your father has been talking about, would it?”

Joseph blinked. “Pa told you?” He looked down, dejected.

“He told me you found some gold plates, but when you tried to get them there was a toad guarding them, and then the toad turned into a man and struck you on the head.” Willard gave an evil laugh.

Joseph turned crimson. “Pa never told you that. Still, I wish he hadn’t mentioned the plates at all.”

“Where’d you find ‘em?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It seems your family never tells the same story twice.”

Joseph frowned. “You wouldn’t believe me anyhow.”

“You know the code of the money-diggers. You’ve got to share every find.”

“I didn’t find anything. An angel showed me where the plates are.”

“I heard it was really a Spaniard with a slit throat.”

“Will you make me a chest?” Joseph asked.

“I’ve got enough of my own work to do.” Willard picked up a fresh two-by-four and laid it on his workbench. Abruptly, he shook his head as he remembered something. “By the way, when are you going to give me back my stone?”

“I gave it back.”

“Yeah, sure. Then your brother borrowed it again. He promised he’d return it. It’s only been five years.”

“It would be of no use to you. But I’ll tell him you want it.” He turned and quickly forgot his words, engrossed in his problem of finding some sort of box or chest.

Joseph continued to plan for the reception of the plates and informed Martin Harris the time for the removal of the plates had come.

Joseph Knight and Josiah Stowel paid a visit to the Smith cabin to discuss and finalize an agreement for the next season’s crop of wheat, and maybe to see for themselves the events as they transpired.

Late at night on the twenty-second of September, when Joseph thought the family and guests had all gone to bed, he and Emma quietly arose and slipped into their clothes. Slowly, they tiptoed out of their room. Joseph held his index finger to his lips and whispered to Emma,

“There’s a light on in the kitchen. Ma’s up. We won’t be able to slip out unnoticed.”

Emma sighed. “I swear, that woman never rests.”

Joseph led Emma back into their room. “It’s okay. Maybe she can help. You stay here and come out as quiet as a mouse in exactly two minutes.” Joseph left Emma to count the seconds as he crept toward the kitchen. The candlelight cast a warm glow.

“What’re you doin’?” Lucy asked, her hands white with flour.

Joseph struck his head into the dimly lit room. “I was wondering if you have a chest with a lock and key.”

Lucy became concerned and began to rinse her hands. “I have none. Is it important?”

“Never mind. I can do very well for the present without it.”

Lucy returned her attention to her work and did not notice as Emma slipped quietly past the kitchen and accompanied Joseph as he crept out the front door.

In the cool night air, Joseph faced his bride. “We’re going to borrow Knight’s wagon.”

Emma nodded, and the two quietly brought out the horses and prepared for the ride. A few miles south of town they came to a familiar hill. The moon cast a faint glow on the damp grass. The sound of crickets filled the air. Joseph pulled the wagon to a stop and turned to his bride. “I want you to wait in the wagon. It’s not safe for you.”

Emma peered into the night. “Okay,” she said. “But hurry.”

Joseph nodded and then lowered himself to the ground. He turned and walked into the darkness. Three-quarters of an hour later, he returned empty handed.

Emma was clearly relieved at the sight of him but also surprised.

“Where are the plates?”

“They’re safe,” Joseph assured as he climbed into the wagon and took hold of the reins. He released the brake with a stomp of his foot and took one final look back into the darkness. “At least, I hope they’re safe.” He snapped the reins and the horses prodded forward.

Emma looked puzzled. “You left them in the woods?”

“They are well hidden.”

“I thought we came here to pick them up.”

Forbidden Plates

“The angel told me it is forbidden for anyone to see them. People are bound to be curious. It wouldn’t be safe to bring the plates home now. I must find some sort of box or container.”

“If we had only known, we could have prepared something.”

“The more people who help with the preparation, the greater chance there is for malicious talk. Now that I have the plates, I can prepare something. Be calm.”

Early in the light of dawn they reached the Manchester cabin. As soon as the horses came to a stop, Lucy opened the door and ran to greet them. “Where have you been? Knight’s been looking for you and his wagon.”

Joseph was cool and indifferent. “Out riding, Ma. You know that.”

Lucy nervously led the way through the kitchen and to her private room. “Don’t be uneasy, Ma.”

“I had my suspicions when you slipped away last night. I had to stall Knight as best I could. Is everything okay?”

“All is right. See here, I have a key.” Joseph pulled a folded handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and unrolled the cloth.

Lucy saw two smooth, three-cornered diamonds set in glass. “Looks a little like spectacles. What is it?”

“It’s a key. It’ll help me understand the story written upon the golden plates.” Joseph wrapped his key in the cloth and turned to his mother in earnest. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” Lucy whispered. “I won’t say a word.”

Days later, Joseph was offered a job digging a well for Widow Wells in nearby Macedon. He accepted and had scarcely begun his work when he looked up and saw Emma riding hard toward him. Concerned, he threw down his shovel, grabbed his coat, and ran to his bride “What’s the matter?”

Emma reined the horse close to where Joseph stood and jumped to the ground. “You need to come home. Willard has sent for a clairvoyant. They’re out to get the plates.”

Joseph reached into the inside of his frock and pulled out the handkerchief. He unrolled the cloth and exposed the key. He looked through it and turned to Emma.

“Everything is okay. The plates are safe.”

Emma stuttered. “You–you mean, you really can see them with that thing?”

Joseph nodded. “We must go,” he said. “Wait for me while I explain to Widow Wells.”

Joseph and Emma quickly returned to Manchester where they found Father Smith pacing the floor.

“There is no cause for alarm,” Joseph said.

Father Smith was relieved to see his son, but he warned, “Remember that for a small thing Esau lost his birthright and his blessing.”

“Don’t worry,” Joseph said. He left Emma with his father in the cabin, along with Don Carlos. Hours later, he returned disheveled and short of breath. He carried a large bundle wrapped in his frock. He gasped as he spoke a few words at a time. “Send for Knight. Josiah too. Men along the road. They tried to attack me.”

Don Carlos spread the word. Later that evening, the men gathered around the table, awed by Joseph’s tale of three separate attacks and the failed attempts to steal the plates. The frock and the plates had been secured, and all were warned never to try to look at them. The penalty would be death.

As each day passed, the excitement around the subject of the plates began to settle. Emma, who like everyone else, was not permitted to see the plates, was angry at first. Joseph quickly soothed her with his promise that she would be his scribe. He needed someone to write as he did his translation. As he prepared

to translate, he picked up a large breastplate.

“What’s that?” Emma burst out laughing. “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Joseph fastened the plate over his chest and attached the spectacle-like object. At first he felt self-conscious in response to Emma’s gentle teasing, but he quickly regained his composure. “It is a means for translation.”

“Well, you must admit, it does look ridiculous.”

“I can read the plates with this.”

Emma giggled. “That will teach you their language?”

“Not quite,” Joseph said. “It will enable me to read their markings in English.”

“It sure looks ridiculous–and cumbersome.”

Joseph turned serious. “Do you doubt the work of the Lord?”

Emma raised a skeptical brow but continued to prepare to fulfill her role as scribe.

The young couple worked on the translation as often as time would allow. People asked about the plates so often that Joseph began to feel they were not safe. He worried someone in his family would try to see them. It preyed on his mind that it was imperative he find a container. He searched until he found what he needed–an old Ontario glass-box. Oversized, it had to be cut down slightly.

Joseph was satisfied that it would serve his purpose.

Talk continued and soon the town of Palmyra was abuzz with stories that Joseph had unearthed a set of golden plates, released to his care by a spiritual being. Visitors became even more frequent and bothersome. The money-diggers were the most persistent.

Their interest was accompanied by shouts and accusations. “You’re taking something that belongs to all of us.” They demanded to be shown the plates. When Joseph refused, they snooped and poked around his house. Joseph became even more watchful.

One day Joseph examined the hiding place for the plates and found a space in the wall where the boards had begun to come loose. He determined that it would take little effort for a small-bodied person to crawl under the house and rout out the plates. Ever aware of his need to protect the curious as well as the plates, he slipped out into the night, dug up his secret treasure, and took it to his father’s cooper shop. He hid the plates under several floorboards.

Days later, Joseph noticed Willard and Sally Chase, along with several members of the money-digging gang, meandering around the shop. That night, he removed the planks and dug up the chest. He put the bundle up high overhead, in a chamber among some flags that had been there so long they were rarely noticed.

The next morning Joseph awoke, ate breakfast, and began his chores. He was on his way to prepare his horse for a ride when Hyrum ran toward him, breathless and obviously upset.

“Come, quick! Sally and Willard are tearing up the floor in Pa’s shop. They’ve got plenty of help.”

Joseph shook his head as he started his walk to the shop. “I knew it.”

Hyrum walked with a sense of urgency. “They are going to find the plates.”

“Not likely,” Joseph said with a grin. “I moved them last night.”

“Thank goodness. Still, let’s hurry.”

Before they reached the front porch of the cooper shop, Joseph and Hyrum slowed to a soft creep. At the doorway, Joseph leaned nonchalantly, arms folded in front of his chest, shoulder against the door frame, one foot crossed in front of the other. “Looking for something?” he asked. The workers had been careless, dirt was scattered everywhere.

Willard’s thin-slit eyes conveyed his anger. “I knew there weren’t no plates.”

Joseph took a few steps forward, his thumbs tucked into his suspenders. “I moved them. I figured you’d be after them. I was surprised that it took you so long.”

“It didn’t take long,” Sally said, her forehead blackened with dirt, her shovel held in one hand. “I have my own stone. You’re not the only one who can see below the earth.” With her free hand she reached into the bib pocket of her overalls and pulled out a small, transparent, green-tinged crystal.

Joseph snickered. “You did all this damage based on what you saw in that stone. You should have known they weren’t there.” He looked around the room and shook his head in disgust. “Maybe you should reconsider the spiritual source of your stone.”

“You’re just a liar,” Sally accused.

Joseph took umbrage. “You have no reason to talk to me like that. I have hid the plates for your own protection. You can’t see the plates and live. What kind of a friend would I be if I let them fall into your hands?”

“You have no right to keep that treasure. We have a solemn agreement to share any finds.”

“A messenger of the Lord appeared to me and commanded me to take charge of the plates. This is not a common treasure.”

Willard shook his head and waved his hand. He grumbled a few profanities and then grabbed Sally’s hand and stormed out of the door.

Joseph turned to his brother. “Help me clean up this mess.”

Hyrum went behind the shop and returned with two shovels. “So where are the plates?”

Joseph wore a knowing smile. “They are here.”

“Here in the shop?”

Joseph pushed his shovel into the pile of dirt. He glanced up to the place where the plates were hidden. Hyrum noticed and followed the path of Joseph’s vision to a small corner of a familiar glass-box. It was seated behind a dozen or more standing flags.

“That box wasn’t there before, was it?”

Joseph’s tone was a bit too casual. “Darn if I know,” The brothers smiled knowingly and continued to work until all the planks were back in place and the last bit of dirt was out of sight. A new layer of sawdust was sprinkled on the floor.

The local preachers and ministers of the gospel would not listen to Joseph and his stories of angelic visitations. They were loud in expressing their opinions and fired the suspicions of all who listened.

“Everybody is talking about it,” Don Carlos said. “Joe unearthed an extraordinary treasure from the big hill outside Manchester.”

“I know,” Joseph said. “It seems like everybody’s turning against me.”

But he had plans. He would need money, and for this he turned to Martin Harris. “An incredible era has arrived,” he told his bearded friend. “A great flood of light is about to burst upon the world.”

“How so?”

“I have the record I told you about. The Golden Bible. When it’s translated, it will settle all the questions about life and bring about the glorious millennium.”

Martin gasped. “The world will come to an end?”

“The millennium is not an end, Martin. It’s a glorious new beginning.”

“Gosh,” Martin sat stoop-shouldered, caught up in his vision of glory.

Joseph sat next to his friend and hinted. “You could be part of this work.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “What should I do?”

Joseph sat at an angle, the better to look into Martin’s eyes. After the book is written, it needs to be published. You could help me find a printer.”

“I’d be honored.”

Joseph rested his hand on Martin’s shoulder. His face grim, he said, “I’ve got a more immediate problem.”

“What is it?”

“I need money to take Emma back to Harmony. She’s homesick again. If I took her back home, we could work all the time, with nobody to bother us.”

“Maybe I could help.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t I copy some of the characters–copy them exactly as they appear on the plates–and you can take them to be verified.”

Martin became excited. “That could help sell the book.”

“It may also help when it comes time to look for a printer. Now, about the money.”

“Of course.” Martin pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and handed Joseph several silver coins.”

“Fifty dollars!” Joseph stared at the coins and smiled. “This’ll help a lot.”

Martin’s chest puffed up with pride. “When you get settled, I’ll come see you. I can’t wait to see what the scholars will say when they see the ancient characters.”

Joseph returned home and went directly to the small room he and Emma shared. He found his bride sitting on the bed looking sad. He sat next to her and took her hand in his. “What’s wrong?”

Emma turned her head away. “It’s nothing.”

“I think I know what your problem is. Better yet, I think I can make it go away.”

“You’re kind. I think that I am just homesick.”

Joseph stood and reached into his trouser pocket. He withdrew the silver coins and placed them in his open hand. “Martin gave me these to help us move back to Harmony.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”

“I’m going to write to your brother and ask him to come. You keep the money. You’ll need it to buy some things before we go. And I’ll need writing supplies.”

With this news, Emma’s mood improved. Joseph began to think more and more about the translation work. Winter had begun to settle in, bringing with it cold, snow, and frozen trails.

The days passed slowly and Emma was becoming anxious. Joseph himself was eager to make the move. Finally, Alva Hale appeared with a large wagon drawn by four horses. Joseph and Alva clasped hands heartily.

“I left as soon as we got your letter,” Alva said. “I brought the largest wagon I could find.”

Emma came running out of the kitchen. Alva gave her a hug. “Father’s really happy to hear you’re coming home. I hate to admit it, but I’m kinda happy myself.”

That evening, Joseph and Emma told Alva about the discovery of the gold plates. Alva sat spellbound as Joseph recounted his trip to the Manchester hill and told of some of the troubles they have endured since bringing forth the plates. Alva viewed the work with skepticism but gave no hint of disapproval.

The next morning they rose early to prepare for their journey. Martin Harris paid a visit with an offer of help. Emma directed the men as they lifted and carried bundles, boxes,and barrels. Soon the wagon was full. Martin slipped into the nearby woods.

Emma stood next to the tightly packed wagon. She pointed to its contents. “What’s that?”

“That barrel?” Joseph asked. “Why that’s a barrel of beans. You should know, for you purchased it.”

“But now I see a large part of those beans stored in a wooden pail, without any covering. Why have they been removed?”

Joseph glanced toward Alva.

“You hid the plates in there, didn’t you? Why are you always so afraid someone will uncover your plates?”

“Because I made a solemn promise, and I don’t want to cause the loss of life.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I’ll be glad when we can quit worrying about those plates.”

“We aren’t there yet,” Joseph said.

“We should be safe,” Alva said. “You said nobody expects us to leave before Monday. Still, those money-diggers are the kind of folk we need to watch out for.”

Martin stepped out of the woods and into the clearing. He held a heavy club in each hand. “It doesn’t hurt to be safe.” He handed the clubs to Joseph. “I picked these up, just in case.”

Joseph hefted one club in each hand. “Thanks, Martin. I sure hope we don’t have to use these.” He bent over and placed the cudgels beneath the wagon seat and then lifted Emma to her place on the board plank. He took his place in the rear of the wagon. Alva snapped the lines and the horses started forward. The three waved their goodbyes.

The wagon had only been on the road for ten or fifteen minutes when they found their early departure had not been kept secret. Three people stood side-by-side, challenging their passage. Others were crouched along the side of the road. Joseph pulled one of the clubs from under the seat and held it high for all to see. “Charge them!” he shouted.

“Ha!,” Alva snapped his whip over the horses’ heads. The animals bolted forward, scattering the men who had attempted to block the road.

One of the money-diggers waved his fist and shouted. “Darn you! You won’t get away with this.”

The horses charged forward. Soon they neared a bend in the road. Joseph looked back. The men were waving and shouting. One man angrily jumped up and down on his hat. Joseph clung to the side of the wagon and laughed.

NOTE: Join us next Monday when Martin’s wife, Dolly, ransacks the Harmony Cottage looking for the golden plates.

Getting an Education

Throughout the spring and summer, Joseph continued to work for Josiah and Mr. Knight. As often as possible, mostly in hopes of winning some form of acceptance from Emma’s father, he attended school. His grammar improved. Occasionally, he would make a journey to his Manchester home. More often, he spent his free time as close as he could to Emma Hale.

Joseph’s visits to Isaac’s Harmony property were often short. There were usually several family members present. Isaac Hale was loud in his disapproval of Joseph’s presence, while Elizabeth Hale quietly watched over her daughter from a distance.

Emma and Joseph found brief moments of privacy. This day, the couple stood before the window and gazed into the darkness of the woods that fronted the cabin. Joseph put his arm around Emma, her head nestled comfortably against his chest. “I got a letter from my folks today,” he said.

“Really?” Anything important?”

“Sort of. I asked their permission to marry.”

Emma lifted her head and turned toward him. “Marry! Who would you marry?”

“You, of course.” Joseph looked into Emma’s eyes. “I love you, and I want you by my side always.”

“Is that what you told your folks?”

“Sort of.”

“What did they say?”

“They approve. Mother says you’re welcome to come live with us.”

Emma looked into his eyes searchingly, wondering what he was thinking. “I can’t leave Harmony.”

Joseph grasped her shoulders in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’ll be my wife.”

“But, Father will never agree.”

“I’ll ask him,” Joseph said, a bit too confident.

Days later, when the opportunity to approach Isaac came, Joseph was direct. “Mr. Hale, I want to marry your daughter.”

Isaac scoffed. “You? A common money-digger! I’ll not have it!”

Joseph protested.

Isaac was firm. “No! And that’s final! Now get out of my house.”

Downcast, Joseph made his way to Josiah’s place where he found a willing ear. “He doesn’t think I’m good enough for his daughter. He sent her to school and expects her to marry an educated man. It doesn’t matter to him that I went to school.”

“Calm down,” Josiah said. “Emma is of legal age. Does she want to marry you?”

“I think so. But without her father’s permission...” Joseph furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“It’d be better if Isaac would agree,” Josiah admitted. “But you’ve got to lead your own life. Emma too. Don’t let that old man hold you back.”

“I sure wish you’d tell Emma that.”

“Ask her over and I will.”

A Visit to Josiah’s Bainsbridge Farm

Joseph followed Josiah’s counsel. Emma, who rarely traveled far from her Harmony home, was given no good reason for the invitation, but she agreed to make the trip.

Josiah and his wife, Miriam, greeted the couple warmly and then Miriam excused herself and returned to her work in the kitchen. The three shared an hour of pleasant conversation while they munched on small cakes and drank tea.

Josiah spoke to Emma. “Joe tells me he has asked you to marry him.”

Emma looked surprised. “Why, yes. He did.”

“He’s been like a son to me. I know I have grown sons of my own, but none of them are quite like Joe.”

Emma glanced quickly toward Joseph and then turned her attention to Josiah. “Did he also tell you that I refused?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure I understand your reasons.”

“Father would be furious. I can’t go against his wishes.”

“Sure you can. It’s time you quit living your life for him. He has made his mistakes, like the rest of us. He can’t change that. You’re a grown lady now. It’s your decision. Unless, of course, there’s someone else.”

Emma’s eyes darted toward Joseph. “No. There is none other. But I want my father to feel proud of me.”

“You’re ashamed of me?” Joseph hung his head low.

“It’s not that. It’s just–”

“What?” Josiah asked.

Emma became frustrated. After a few moments she smiled and said, “Of course. There’s no reason why we can’t.”

“Then, I have a plan,” Josiah said. “We can ride over to see Squire Tarbell. I hear he charges a minimum fee for a legal marriage ceremony. Knight and I will be your witnesses.

“I even bought a new suit for the occasion,” Joseph added.

“With what money?”

“Martin gave me the money.”

Emma’s eyes opened wide. “It sounds like you have been planning and scheming. You and Josiah! And Martin too!”

“Come on,” Joseph pleaded, “you love me and I love you. Once we’re married, your father–he may be angry for a while, but he’ll get over it.”

“Of course he will, “Josiah said. “He’s a stubborn old man, but sooner or later he’ll accept it.”

Emma looked down at her pale blue dress and ran her hand over her hair. “Get married today? I can’t think of it.”

Josiah looked squarely at Emma. “There is no better time than the present.”

“We can live in Manchester,” Joseph said. “When your father starts to miss you, he’ll send for us.”

Emma’s eyes showed her ambivalence. “Do you really think it will be all right?”

“Of course,” Joseph said.

Emma rolled the plans around in her mind and then realized, “I can’t get married dressed like this.”

Josiah’s eyes were bright. “You look to me to be Miriam’s size when I married her. I had her unpack her dress this morning.”

“She won’t mind if I wear it?” Emma asked.

“Nonsense.” Josiah turned and called to his wife.

Miriam came into the room with a soft smile on her face, her hand reached out to the young bride-to-be. “Come with me. I’ll help you.”

Josiah returned to Joseph. “I’ll leave you to prepare the carriage while I ride out to Knight’s.”

Joseph made his way to the barn. His motions were quick. When he returned to the house, he saw Emma talking with Miriam, wearing a beautiful but simple white dress. “You look lovely.” He kissed her softly and then pulled back with harnessed passion.

“You’ve got to change clothes,” Emma said.

“I will. Then we’ve got to go. Josiah and Mr. Knight will meet us there.”

The sky began to let down a slow drizzle. Emma covered herself with a shawl. When the wagon reached the squire’s house, two familiar horses stood tied to the post.

It was a simple ceremony that ended with a kiss. Joseph and Emma thanked their friends and bid them farewell. Three days later, they arrived at the Smiths’ Manchester home.

The larger frame house had been built in Joseph’s absence, allowing the young

couple a room of their own. Their first night under a dry roof was delectable, full of playfulness, balanced by warmth and tenderness.

Joseph spent his days working on the farm. Father Smith was pleased to have help and Lucy delighted in having her son and another daughter under her roof. Then one day, Joseph returned home to find Emma seated at their small desk, red-eyed with paper and pen in hand. He rushed to her side. “You’ve been crying.”

Emma wiped a tear with the back of her hand. She strained to make her tone cheerful. “I was just feeling a little homesick. I’m writing a letter to my father to see if he’s holding my things for me.”

“You really miss him, don’t you?” He embraced her. Softly, he pressed his lips against her forehead.

Emma cried. “I try to be happy here, but I really miss my home and my brothers and sisters. I thought maybe if I could see my parents and get some of my things, I’d feel better.”

“Do you want to go visit them?”

Emma nodded, her eyes still sad.

They had never discussed it, but Joseph had seen a longing in Emma’s expression that seemed more intense with each passing day. “Very well, mail your letter,” he said. “If your father’s willing we can return to get your things. We’re a family now. His opinion of me should soften.”

Emma wiped away her tears. “I’ll wait every day for his answer.”

She wrapped her arms around Joseph’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. Joseph found quiet pleasure in her display of happiness. It was a long wait, but Isaac’s letter finally came, along with an invitation to return to Harmony.

Return to Harmony

Joseph hired a longtime friend and neighbor, Peter Ingersoll, to drive the wagon. As they neared Hale’s cabin, Emma began to fidget with excitement. Joseph was

not particularly eager to meet his father-in-law but felt his new relationship with Emma had changed things.

As soon as the wagon rolled to a stop, Joseph and Peter jumped to the ground. Joseph turned and extended a hand to Emma, she lifted her skirt and gracefully stepped down.

Isaac Hale approached the wagon, a wide grin showed his teeth. He ignored Joseph and embraced his daughter and then set her aside as softly as if she were the favorite doll of a small child.

Angrily, he turned to Joseph. “You have stolen my daughter and married her. I’d rather have followed her to her grave.”

Joseph stood still, momentarily stunned. “I love Emma,” he said. “I’d do anything for her.”

Isaac took one step forward and shook his finger in front of Joseph’s face. “You spend your time digging for money while you pretend to see in that stone of yours. You deceive people.”

Joseph combed his fingers through his hair. He turned to study Emma’s expression. She had become a little pale.

Isaac continued his tirade. “Why don’t you admit it? You can’t see anything with that stone. It’s all lies.”

Joseph decided it would be necessary to bend in order to maintain peace in the family. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t see in that stone. Never could.”

Emma looked up, surprised.

Joseph continued to speak. “As for digging for treasure, I can give that up. I told you, I love Emma and would do anything for her.”

Emma grabbed his hand with a hopeful smile. “Do you think you could?”

Hale’s tone lost some of its harshness. “I hope you mean that.” He turned and walked toward the house, one arm around Emma’s shoulder.

Joseph and Peter lingered behind to unload the wagon. By the time they entered the cabin, Isaac’s rage had subsided.

“You young folks must be weary. I’ve got some personal matters to attend to. I’ll be out most of the afternoon. We can talk more this evening.

Evening came and dinner was served. Joseph took his place at the large family table. Isaac was calm. The limited conversation was soft spoken. Then Isaac cleaned the food from his plate and pushed it aside. He turned to Joseph in earnest.

“Look! What’s done is done. You asked my permission to marry my daughter, and

I denied it. You married her anyway. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for that. But, if you could give up this damned habit of digging for money and using the stone, and work for a living like everyone else, then I could see things differently. I’d even help you go into business.”

“What kind of business?” Joe asked.

“Farming. And I know where you can live. My brother, Jesse, has taken his family and moved to the convenience of the big city. He only has a small cottage, but it still has some furniture in it.”

“Oh, Father,” Emma cried, “could we live there?

Isaac placed his coarse hand on his daughter’s. “It would be a perfect place for a young couple,” he said. He leaned forward slightly to look directly at his new son-in-law. “But, that’s up to Joe.”

Emma’s face lit up. She turned to her husband with pleading eyes. “Could we live there? I’d be so happy.”

“Well...” Joseph stammered, unsure how to answer. He knew he needed time to think. “We’ll have to go home to get some of our things, but we can come back.”

Emma thrust her arms around his neck. Isaac extended his hand in congratulations and smiled.

“You might as well ride back with me,” Peter said.

“Of course,” Isaac agreed. “I’ll send one of my boys to pick you up when you’re ready.”

Joseph was willing to put aside the use of the stone and harness himself to the plow for the sake of family. Deep within, he wondered if such a change would be possible. He helped Peter hitch the horses to the wagon. “People will ask me to look with the stone.”

Joseph said, feeling a conflict rising within. “I can’t refuse them.”

“You won’t be able to quit,” Peter said.

Joseph lowered his eyes, uncertain of the promise he had made.He looked at Peter. “You may be right.”

NOTE: Next Monday: Joseph and Emma sneak out of the house expecting to meet an angel.

Working for Joseph Knight

After a short stay in Manchester, Joseph returned to Josiah’s South Bainbridge home. He worked on the farm, occasionally went to school, and visited with Emma as often as possible. At times, he would pack a few belongings and travel the three and one-half miles to Joseph Knight’s property where he would work on Knight’s farm or nearby mill.

“You’re doing good work,” the senior said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver coin, and handed it to Joseph. “I only wish I could pay you more.”

Joseph was busy hitching the horses to his employer’s carriage.

He took the coin and smiled. “Thanks. It is plenty to have a place to sleep and something to eat.”

“Take it anyway. You may want to buy something for your girl.”

“My girl,” Joseph blushed. “I guess it shows.”

“In large type. Are you riding out to see her now?” He straightened his hat. “I was going to talk to you before I left.”

Knight looked up and stared into the distance. The road that led to his property was long and straight, bordered by a stretch of split-rail fencing. “Someone’s turning dust over there mighty fast.”

“It looks like you’ve got company,” Joseph said.

“He’s carrying a gun. Looks like the constable.”

The men watched as the rider neared and then reined his horse

to a sudden stop. “Afternoon,” he said.

Knight nodded his greeting.

“Name’s DeZing. I’m looking for Joseph Smith Jr. I hear he works around here.” Knight glanced at Joseph but said nothing.

DeZing sat straight on his horse. Impatiently he asked, “Well, do you know anybody by that name?”

Joseph tried to sound indifferent. “What do you want him for?”

Suspicious, De Zing asked, “Are you Joseph Smith?”

“I am. But, I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

DeZing dismounted, reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a folded paper. “Well, somebody has taken the trouble to place charges against you.”

“But, I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, I tell you.”

“That’s not what it says here.” DeZing pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

“What are the charges?” Knight asked.

DeZing unfolded the coarse paper. “Charges are being a disorderly person and imposter.”

“Not so. I’m just a common laborer and son of a poor, struggling farmer.”

“Is that so?” DeZing spat. “Somebody doesn’t agree. My orders are to bring you to Bainbridge for examination.”

Joseph was aghast. “You’re going to arrest me on some trumped-up charge?”

The constable scratched at the side of his head and squinted.

“Nope, I ain’t arresting you. I think you’d say it’s more like ‘obliged to appear’.”

“There must be some mistake.”

“Could be. But I’ve gotta take you in either way.”

Knight eased forward. “Who placed the complaint?”

DeZing looked at his order. “Peter G. Bridgeman. It appears he don’t think much of your boy here.”

Joseph’s eyes opened wide as he turned to his employer.

“Josiah’s nephew. I always figured he’d be trouble.”

“That’s what it is. With a capital ‘T’.“ DeZing put his foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse. “We can’t go in that cutter. Hop on up here. You can ride with me, son.”

Joseph jumped on the horse and seated himself behind the constable. The warm Manchester breeze blew against the men’s faces as they trotted toward town. Later, as the sun began to set, Joseph walked behind DeZing toward a large three-storied structure. He felt disheartened and confused.

“I’ll be with you until the examination is over. We’re going to stay in this here hotel.”

“You mean you aren’t going to lock me up?”

“My job is to make sure you show up. That’s all.”

Joseph followed the constable up the steep staircase to a door marked 201. The small room was well lit but crowded with two small beds, a small side table and lamp, a large chest of drawers, and one wooden chair near the window. Inside the room, he sat on the quilt-covered, four-poster bed, stoop-shouldered and unsure.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t try running off. I’d just have to chase after you.”

“I won’t go no where,” Joseph assured. “I’m innocent. When they see that, they’ll have to let me go.”

DeZing turned toward the door. “Then, I’m going to tend to business. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Joseph sat alone in the room. His mood became increasingly dreary. He regretted not being able to see Emma and became less confident that his innocence would ensure his freedom. He had eaten sparingly at the mid-day meal. His stomach growled.

The door opened. “Your examination is in the morning.” DeZing reached back with his left leg and kicked the door closed. He stepped into the center of the room and tossed a small package wrapped in plain paper onto the bed. “The food is for you.”

Joseph unfolded the paper to find a chunk of freshly baked bread wrapped around a piece of a turkey leg. He pulled at the soft dough without taking his eyes off the constable.

Dining with Constable DeZing

DeZing lowered himself onto the chair and rested the high back against the wall. He took a small, dark flask out of a second brown paper bag. “The food is for you. This here’s for me.”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “What happens afterward?”

“After the hearing? That depends on the outcome.”

“Well, if worse comes to worse, what do they do in a case like this? I mean, if they think I’m guilty?”

“I’d guess they’d give you three to six months in the bridewell.”

“Prison?”

“Not exactly. That’d be for real outlaws. But it’s the kind of place you want to stay out of. You’d be obliged to work hard, and some of those guards are hard-nosed fellas.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“Scare you and prepare you. If you do go to the bridewell, you’d better ally with the right people from the start. Otherwise, I can’t tell what could happen.”

Joseph felt a small tremble run down his spine. “This isn’t fair. I didn’t do nothin’.”

DeZing took another sip from his flask. “Son, are you so young that you still think life is fair?”

Joseph brooded silently.

“It ain’t no concern of mine, but tell me, did you do it?”

Joseph crunched his face in a disagreeable manner. “Of course not. And I ain’t no imposter either.”

“Disorderly doesn’t just mean disturbing the peace. If refers to telling fortunes, reading palms, searching for treasures–stuff like that. Have you done any of that?

“I’ve looked for treasures, but that can’t be against the law.”

“Looking for treasures ain’t. Pretending to see and deceiving people is.”

“But, if I really do see the treasure, then it can’t be against the law.”

DeZing stood up, a worried furrow in his brow. “You can’t see treasures below the earth. It just can’t be done. Maybe you are deceiving yourself.”

Joseph’s lower lip protruded forward. “I ain’t deceived.”

DeZing took a few short steps across the small room. “So, you really are a treasure hunter, eh?”

Joseph began to tug at his boots. “People ask me to do it. Sometimes I’m minding my own business and they come looking for me. But, there’s a difference between pretending to do something and actually doing it.”

“Nobody can see through the earth, son. It ain’t natural. If I were you, I’d think up a better story.”

“Are you suggesting I lie?”

DeZing loosened his shirt, stretched and yawned. “Nope,” he said. “But you’d better protect yourself.” He sat on the bed, pulled off his boots, removed his outer clothes, and laid them neatly over the chair. He took another sip from his flask, blew out the candle, and climbed into bed.

The following morning Joseph entered the spacious wood-toned courtroom with a feeling of dread. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his father, Josiah Stowell, and Joseph Knight seated next to each other on a bench near the front row. He followed the constable to the front and took his place on a chair.

Joseph turned in his seat to search the courtroom. His eyes met unfamiliar blank stares, people whispering or muttering so low he could not hear. He glanced toward his father who gave him a wink of confidence.

The sight of the long black robe of Justice Albert Neely quieted conversation and brought Joseph face forward. The room took on an expectant hush. Joseph looked toward the imposing figure. Everyone in the room stood up. Joseph gave a worried glance toward DeZing and then rose.

“The Honorable Albert Neely, Esquire, presides,” a monotone voice announced.

Neely took his place at the front of the courtroom and then slammed his gavel. He turned toward the accused. “Step forward, please.”

Joseph, clearly nervous, did as he was told. He faced the judge squarely.

“It’s my duty as justice of the peace to examine you and the information of those who placed the charges against you. As the accused, you will not be asked to take an oath, and you’re free to refuse to answer any questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Joseph heard an unfamiliar squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat.

“Take your seat, then, and tell us a little about yourself. Where do you live and work?”

Joseph answered the question then the justice asked, “What’s this about a stone?” “Do you use such an instrument to fool people?”

“N-no sir.....I’m not an imposter at all.”

“Do you have such a stone–a seer stone, that is?”

Joseph nodded. “Yes. But I don’t use it to fool people.”

Neely leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely before him. “Go on,” he said.

Joseph told about his work with Josiah and his use of the stone and then added, “Lately I’ve given it up.”

“It would seem that you did pretend to see some sort of treasure,” Neely said.

“Not pretend. I saw the silver mine below the ground. But this is very hard to do, and it makes my eyes sore. I told Mr. Stowel that I didn’t want to do it anymore. Since then, we’ve been farming.”

“All right. You’re dismissed.” Neely reached inside a small pocket in his robe and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. “The following witnesses will be asked to take an oath as they approach the stand.”

He put his glasses on and picked up a piece of paper. “Josiah Stowel,” he called out, “step forward and be sworn.”

Josiah took his oath and then sat in the chair facing the courtroom. He answered the justice’s questions about his background and his employment of Joseph.

Neely asked, “Did he purport to see things through the medium of his stone?”

“He didn’t purport,” Josiah said. “I do believe—actually, I positively know, Joe–I mean the accused–possesses the art of seeing with his stone.”

“Then one would assume he has found treasures for you. What is the value of those treasures?”

Josiah hesitated. “It’s not that simple. When he told me where one of our departed local residents buried some money, Joe could see it in a certain root of a stump five feet below the ground. He saw the treasure, and he also saw the yellow tail feather of a bird.

A group of us went to the site and started to dig, and sure enough, we found the feather.”

“And the money?”

“The money was gone.”

“Somebody had already dug it up,” Neely proffered.

Josiah shook his head. “The ground was untouched.”

Judge Neely raised a brow and leaned back in his chair, his index finger against his temple. “If all you found was a feather, what do you suppose happened to the money?”

“It moved down into the earth.”

A ripple of laughter flowed through the courtroom and then quickly quieted in response to the pounding of the justice’s hammer.

“Surely, you don’t expect this court to believe such a story.”

“Believe it or not, it is true.”

Neely took a deep breath. “Were there any other occasions that convinced you of the accused’s art?”

“One day I happened to be in Palmyra. I asked Joe to look through his stone for something very distant. He described my house to me in every detail. He even described the outhouses on my property.”

“Well,” Justice Neeley said, “I would think if you’ve seen one outhouse, you’ve seen them all.”

“Maybe so. But he could see the layout of the buildings and describe where one was in relation to the other.”

“Possibly he had been there before.”

“No. He saw it through his stone.”

Neely raised one eyebrow. “You’re excused for the moment.” He called Arad Stowel to the stand.

Arad Stowell Takes The Stand

Arad was sworn in and gave an overview of his background.

“Joe worked for my father, like he said. One day, I challenged him to convince me he could see with his stone. He laid a book on a white cloth and then acted like he was looking through another stone. This stone was white and transparent. He held his stone to the candle, turned his head to the book, and read. I asked him why he didn’t use his other stone, the dark one he usually puts in his hat. He said it made his eyes sore. You could tell he was lying.”

“You don’t agree that the prisoner can see with his stone?”

“I’m afraid my father has been duped. Ever since he came across a map that claims to show the location of a lost silver mine, he gets more determined to find it. He’ll believe anything. He’s squandering our money in this ludicrous search.”

“You can step down,” Neely said. He called Jonathan Thompson to the stand.

Jonathan came forward and was sworn in. He sat down and placed his elbows on the arms of the chair. He slouched forward as he told his story.

“I asked Joe to look for a chest of money for me. He looked through his stone and told me he knew where it was. I went with him in search of it one night and he showed me where a chest was buried. We dug several feet and then struck something that sounded like a board or a plank. Joe became alarmed on account of what happened when the trunk was buried. He could see the events as they happened. Two Indians were burying the trunk, he said. They began to quarrel. One of the Indians was killed by the other and thrown into the hole beside the trunk.”

Neely interrupted. “That Indian is dead now, I presume.”

“He’s dead,” Jonathan said. “But his spirit continues to watch over the treasure.”

“Rather far-fetched, I’d say. Did you believe the story?”

“It wasn’t a question of belief. We dug, and we struck the trunk. We could feel the wood when the shovel hit it. The chest kept settling away from us. It was enchanted. It seemed like there was some spirit pulling it out of reach. No matter how deep we dug, it was always just below the surface. Then Joe did something really strange–some kind of magic ceremony. He drew a circle in the ground and began walking around it, all the while spilling the blood of a black sheep. This was to appease the evil spirits.”

The Justice frowned. “There must be some logical explanation why the treasure disappeared.”

Jonathan shrugged.

Neely tapped his gavel. “You’re excused.” He called the next name on his list.

Four additional witnesses, Joseph’s father included, took the stand. Their testimony confirmed Joseph’s use of the stone in an attempt to find treasure. Justice Neely concluded, “The accused has, by his own admission, been in the habit of looking through his stone to find lost property, and while he says he does actually see objects below the earth’s surface and there is no pretense, since

this ability is extraordinary, this court has no choice but to find the accused guilty as charged. The prisoner will be held until the next court of special sessions.”

Justice Neely gave a final tap of his gavel.

Joseph remembered that DeZing had said he would be with him until the examination was over. Did this mean he would have to go to the bridewell? He turned anxiously toward the constable and asked, “What now?”

“Wait here.” DeZing ran to a rear door, following close behind the justice’s dark robe. It was a long wait for Joseph, but finally the constable reappeared. He wore a half-grin that made Joseph feel uncomfortable. He led his prisoner out of the courtroom.

“I told you to find another story.” DeZing now wore a wide grin.

Joseph was scared and confused. “I had to tell the truth.”

“‘Know the truth and the truth shall set you free.’ That’s Bible talk, aint it?”

“You’re sure no Bible man. When is the next court of special sessions the judge talked about?”

“I wouldn’t worry much about that.” DeZing led the way past the hotel and to a narrow passageway between two structures. “Have you ever heard of leg-bail?”

Joseph frowned. “What’s that?”

DeZing leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “It means you’re free to go.”

Joseph’s eyes opened wide. Then, unbelieving, he looked long and hard at DeZing. “Won’t they come looking for me?”

“Son, there’s enough rustlers and swindlers out there to keep the courts busy. This is your chance. The court of special sessions could be next week, or it could be next month. It’s okay. I already talked to the judge.”

A warm, believing smile crossed Joseph’s lips. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks a lot.”

Joseph huddled against the cold March wind as he made his way to Joseph Knight’s farm. He did not understand how this system of justice worked. He had been accused of a crime, found guilty, and now he was freed. He laughed, straightened his hat, and lumbered down the road.

NOTE: Next Monday: Joseph promises Father Hale he will quit the practice of necromancy. Can he?

Meeting with Stowel

The summer of 1825 mellowed into a clear, crisp autumn. Joseph walked down the familiar dirt-paved road to Palmyra, New York. He had lived in this bustling little town before his family purchased their Manchester property. At times, such as now, thoughts and memories of Alvin came to his mind unbidden. A familiar voice broke into the moment.

“Hey, Joe!” Simpson Stowel called.

Surprised, Joseph turned to see two familiar faces. He recognized both men. “See you got company,” he said to Simpson, and then he greeted Simpson’s cousin Josiah.

“You’re just the fellow we’ve been looking for,” Josiah said. He had visited with Simpson often and was not a stranger in town.

“We’ve been talking about your special talents with the stone,“ Simpson said.

Joseph frowned, pushed his hands deeply into his side pants pockets, and kicked at the dirt. “I wish people wouldn’t talk about it so much.”

“Nonsense,” Simpson said. “It’s an extraordinary gift, and gifts aren’t meant to be kept to oneself. I was hoping you’d show us how it works.”

Joseph declined.

Simpson asked and again.

Finally, Joseph agreed, removed his hat, and placed the stone in its bowl.

“Look for something far away.”

Joseph peered into the darkness. After a few moments he said,

“I see a village. It’s small. Wait! I see a farm. It is a few miles south of the village. It’s got a big farm house and two large barns.”

He sensed the Stowels’ excitement and continued. “The farm has fencing all around. It’s a prosperous farm, judging by the building and the long fence. Going up the road, I see flowers along each side of the walkway. The walkway is made of logs laid out on a sloping path.”

Josiah was beside himself with excitement. “That’s my property,” he said.

“Shhhh,” Simpson whispered. He placed his fingers to his lips. “Joe isn’t finished.”

“Behind the house I see two buildings.” Joseph hesitated. He peered into his hat, trying to get a clearer picture. “They look like outhouses.”

“I have two outhouses,” Josiah said a little too loud. “That’s my place. I know it.”

Joseph raised his head. “You ain’t supposed to talk, Mr. Stowel. You broke the spell.”

Without apology, Josiah asked, “How do you do that?”

“It’s not something I do. It’s something that happens when I put the stone and my face in the hat.”

Simpson’s voice held a tone of uncertainty. “I bet you’ve been to Bainbridge.”

Joseph shook his head. “Nope. I only said what I saw through the stone. What’s your interest anyway?”

“I’ve got a business deal that might interest you,” Josiah said. “Is there any chance of me coming out to your place later?” Joseph agreed.

That evening, Josiah presented his plan to the Smiths. “I have a little side venture I’m quite enthused about. I came by it in a roundabout way. You see, I have this document that describes the location of a mine.”

Father Smith showed immediate interest. “A gold mine?”

“Silver,” Josiah corrected.

“And you want to dig for it?”

“I’ve been digging for it. Me and a few partners. We’ve had a crew at work for a couple of weeks now. Dig as we might, we haven’t been able to find anything. I considered hiring someone with skills in the art of divining, and then I heard about Joe and his stone.”

“You know,” Lucy said, “I don’t approve of young Joe spending his time seeking after the faculty of Abrac.” She spoke of ancient magic and the invoking of a spirit named Abrac, most often with the words “Abracadabra,”

Father Smith spent a quiet moment making mental calculations. “Well, if you’ll be digging, I’ve got a couple of sons who make good hands.”

“How about I bring Pa and Hyrum along?” Joseph offered. “Pa still does a good day’s work, and Hyrum is as strong as an ox.”

Hyrum, leaning against the back of Father Smith’s chair, stood straight and folded his arms in front of his expansive chest.

Josiah looked the young man over, clearly pleased. “Yes, I can see.” He turned to Joseph and said, “I see no problem. There are no guarantees, of course. I have a couple of partners who are investing right along with me. We could make a new agreement so you could have a part of any find.”

“We can’t afford to work on the chance of uncovering a mine,” Father Smith said. “We barely make ends meet. What about livin’ expenses? Room and Board?”

“I’ve got it all worked out. I can give you cash wages of fourteen dollars a month, and I have a place for you to stay. Isaac Hale, one of the men who help subsidize this venture, has a rooming house. You’ll be comfortable there and also well fed. Hale’s a hunter. Some say a mighty hunter. His pantry is well-stocked. His wife makes the most delicious homemade bread and pies.”

“How far off is this place?” Joseph asked.

“It’s just over the state line. The actual digging site is located on the Great Bend of the Susquehanna. It’s a few day’s ride.”

“Harvest is over,” Father Smith said.

Joseph had done his own calculations. “Samuel and William can split most of the chores. And Sophronia could do some of the lighter tasks.”

“I’d like to see what South Bainbridge looks like,” Hyrum said.

“Haven’t been more than fifty miles from home since I can’t remember when.”

“We have another house payment due soon,” Lucy said. “Sure would help if we had three men earning wages.”

Josiah stood. “I think we could take on three. That includes Joe, of course. I’ll be back in the morning with my wagon.”

“How long will they be gone?” Lucy asked, anxious now at the thought of the absence of her family.

“It’s hard to tell. But you don’t have to worry, ma’am. They’ll be in good hands.”

The next morning the men found the October air cool and crisp and the dusty road rough, narrow, and studded with tree stumps. The land was extremely broken and hilly, while a backdrop of mountains fringed a large expanse of green forest. They reached the Hale property shortly before sunset on the third day. The large dwelling appeared as two small cabins joined together, with the barn attached to the rear.

Isaac greeted Josiah with an embrace of friendship. He was a sturdy, barrel-chested man with unruly dark hair, tinged with gray at the temples. Inside the Hale cabin, the Smiths were introduced to the family.

Elizabeth, Isaac’s wife, wore her hair pulled back severely over her ears, but her warm smile gave her face an unusual softness. She was devoted to her husband and children. There were four sons and two daughters who remained at home.

Reuben, age twelve, was the youngest.

The Hale family was accustomed to having guests in their home, as they often boarded itinerant preachers as they made their rounds through the territory.

The Smiths stood in the main room with their baggage in hand, waiting for direction. “You men can share the same room,” Isaac said. “Emma will show you the way.” He spoke of his eldest daughter.

Emma had been educated as a school teacher, but she easily stepped into the role of innkeeper. She smiled and led the men down a poorly lit corridor, her skirt swaying as she walked. She stopped, opened a door, and stepped aside to allow the men to pass. Joseph sensed her eyes watching him. He glanced her way and forced himself to turn his attention to the room. It had four single beds.

“The other rooms have only one or two beds,” Emma explained.

“This will be fine,” Joseph said. He thanked Emma and she turned and walked back down the corridor, leaving the men to pass the evening in small talk. They went to bed early. Joseph found his thoughts of the digging were often interrupted by thoughts of Emma. He reprimanded himself and fell into pleasant dreams.

The workers arose at dawn. Elizabeth served a large breakfast that included fresh eggs, bacon, and homemade bread topped with cinnamon. As they finished their meal, Josiah’s wagon pulled up in front of the homestead.

The digging site was three miles below the New York state line. When they reached their destination, the Smiths could see unusually large holes dotting the landscape, reminders of the crew’s work the past two weeks. The wagon pulled to a stop and Josiah jumped down and motioned Joseph aside. He pulled a crumpled, yellowed paper from his pocket. “According to this, the treasure should be somewhere in this area.”

Joseph ignored the faded drawing. “Let me look with my stone.”

“Of course.”

Joseph walked around the area with his head in his hat, careful to avoid the holes that were there. After several minutes, he looked up, his voice not much louder than a whisper. “There’s something near here. I can feel it.”

“Can you see it?” Josiah asked.

“Not yet.” He put his head back into his hat.

The men waited. Minutes passed slowly. Birds chirped and fluttered through the trees, while a woodpecker sounded in the distance. Then Joseph raised his head, his voice full of confidence. “Dig right here,” he said.

The men slammed their shovels into the ground. Their muscles strained and they groaned as they threw the dirt over their shoulders. Joseph stood nearby. Occasionally, he would raise his head and walk toward the hole to check its depth. The sun brought warmth to the men on what would have otherwise been a cold October day.

The morning’s work brought no gold or silver, but there were no unrealistic expectations. At noon, Josiah went to his wagon and took out a large basket of food his wife had prepared. The men gobbled down fresh home-made bread, pulled apart pieces of leftover chicken, and washed the meal down with clear spring water.

When they finished, Joseph began to survey the site again. Everything indicated they were in the right place. Their confidence in the choice of the site lasted all afternoon. Toward evening, energies began to fade.

“That’s it,” Josiah called. “You’ve done a good job, but we’re not goin’ to find anything today. Tomorrow we ought to spread out–just to be sure we don’t miss anything. In a few more days we may have what we’re after.”

Two weeks later, having given up on the original site, another hole emerged as the men continually tossed aside one shovelful of dirt after another. Dark rain clouds hovered overhead.

“Can you see anything?” Josiah asked.

“Be quiet,” Joseph whispered, a little short on patience.

“Okay. But, can you see anything or not?”

The Enchantment is too Powerful

Joseph eased forward. Moments passed in silence. Finally, he lifted his head. “The enchantment is too powerful,” he said. “I can’t see.”

“I thought you could see with that stone,” one of the workers charged.

Joseph stood erect, his hat held loosely in his hand. “I can, but when the enchantment is too powerful, it gets more difficult. We need some stakes. We can use them to break the spell. All we have to do is to lay ‘em out in the proper manner.”

The men spread out to search for fallen branches and sticks. In a short time, arms full, Joseph began to pace the field.

Josiah followed Joseph’s measured footsteps. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Sometimes you need to spill some blood on the ground, maybe from a sheep or chicken, as a sacrifice. I think we’ll be okay without it.”

Joseph counted each step then stopped, bent over, and held a short wooden stake to the ground. He pounded it into the earth using the end of his shovel. Slowly, the stick sank deeper into the soil. “We need to place several of these in the form of a circle.”

“What are you doing?” Josiah asked, equally curious and skeptical.

“I’m going to entreat the spirits, The circle will help me make contact.”

The stakes were placed, the incantations delivered, but no treasure was found. Two weeks became a month and the crew still had no success. Joseph began to look forward to the end of each day.

During his brief time at Isaac Hale’s house, it became increasingly clear Emma had ignited Joseph’s interest. Thoughts of her continually churned through his mind, leaving him feeling lighthearted and happy.

If he stopped to wonder, he would realize he was falling in love and was entirely unable to resist.

He longed for a moment alone with Emma but feared her response to an open invitation. Then, early one evening, while he stood on the porch steps waiting for his father and brother, Emma opened the cottage door. Suddenly, she stood before him carrying a load of wash.

Startled, Joseph stuttered, and then finding his courage, he asked, “Can you meet me alone someplace? I need to talk to you.”

“After the dinner dishes have been cleared,” Emma said. “I’ll go

to the barn. One of the heifers is going to calve. I’ll go check on her.”

Elizabeth called from the kitchen and then she poked her head out the door and shot the couple a suspicious glance. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Oh, Mother,” Emma cried. “I was just talking with Joe about Esther.”

“Talking about cows?” You’d better set down that wash and go fetch some milk. It won’t be long before dinner.”

Later that evening, alone in the barn, Joseph made a theatrical but gentlemanly display of dusting the top of an old barrel. He motioned Emma to be seated and then stood before her, his hat in his hand. He smiled and said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Why, I didn’t think you noticed.” Emma lowered her eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Surely this flame that burns inside also shows in my eyes,” Joseph said.

“Show me where the flame burns,” Emma teased.

“Right here.” Joseph placed his hand over his left breast. “Sometimes it burns something fierce.”

Emma’s smile vanished. “You’re so romantic, and I do enjoy your presence here so much. Sometimes, late in the afternoon, I catch myself just standing and staring out the window, waiting for the wagon to return.”

“Then you feel the same way.” Joseph reached forward to take Emma’s hand.

Slowly, he moved his face closer to hers, his lips merely brushing her cheeks. She turned and moved toward the stall where the large-bellied animal noisily munched shreds of sweet-smelling hay.

Joseph stayed close by Emma’s side. “She looks all right to me.”

“She’s enormous.” Emma bent over and affectionately patted the cow on her side. The animal let out a long, low, moan.

Joseph stepped back, picked up a piece of straw, and began chewing on it absentmindedly as he took in Emma’s every movement.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached, and Isaac Hale’s deep voice thundered. “What’s going on here?”

“Everything is okay, Father. We were just checking on Esther.”

Isaac’s face turned cold when he saw Joseph, then quickly softened as he walked calmly to the impregnated animal. “Good to see you taking an interest, but I don’t expect anything to happen for a few more days. Sometimes you can tell when the calf falls. I don’t see any sign of that. Of course, like any other female, she can fool you. It doesn’t hurt to check.” Isaac led Emma out of the barn.

Each day at the digging Joseph felt increased pressure to perform and each night he was challenged by his host. It was usually at the end of the evening meal that Isaac began his attack. “Did you find anything today?”

“Find anything?” Joseph said weakly.

“Did you uncover the silver mine?”

Isaac’s penetrating stare caused Joseph to move uncomfortably in his chair. He hesitated, lowered his head, and softly said, “No, sir.”

“If you have such wonderful magic power with that stone, how come you can’t find the silver? That stone doesn’t enable you to see anything. All it does is allow you to lead hopeful men like Josiah astray. You can’t fool me.”

“There’s a treasure all right,” Joseph said. “And it is immense. I’ve seen it. The problem is, every time we get close, the enchantment takes over and the treasure slips deeper into the ground.”

Devout Methodists Don’t Believe in Enchantments

“Enchantment,” Isaac stammered. “We’re devout Methodists. We don’t believe in enchantments.”

Joseph shrugged. “Mr. Stowell is a devout Presbyterian and he believes.”

Isaac slammed his closed fist on the table. “Don’t be insolent!” he shouted. Then, he softened and said, “Just what is it that you call an enchantment? Magic spells?”

Joseph looked directly at Isaac. Weakly, he said, “Sort of. Sometimes, especially if the person died violently when the treasure was buried, a spirit guards over it.”

“You’ve no business conversing with spirits.” Isaac said. His voice was deep, even, and very insistent.

“I’m not conversing with them.”

“The use of magic arts is forbidden in the scripture and probably is against some law. At any rate, I don’t like your business of seeing.” Isaac rose from the table and groaned. “I wish Josiah would come to his senses.” Openly disappointed, he quietly walked into the night air. As an afterthought, he called back, “It’s time for you young folks to be going to bed. Emma has plenty to do in the morning.”

Each day’s work at the digging continued the same as the last. Joseph could see the treasure through the stone. Spells and incantations were employed in an attempt to break the enchantment, but no silver was uncovered. At the end of the day, Isaac continued to grumble and became increasingly contemptuous. As his animosity toward Joseph increased, it seemed to spread to the other workers

as well.

The crew began to tire of the daily rituals, and so did Hyrum and Father Smith. They discussed the issues and considered the possibility of returning to Manchester. Joseph did not want to be separated from Emma, but it also seemed impossible to continue under Hale’s roof. He decided to speak with Josiah before their morning ride to the work site.

The next morning, Joseph smiled at the sight of Josiah’s wagon. He waited for the horses to come to a stop and then seated himself on the springboard beside his employer. “Isaac really got upset last night. He doesn’t want us around here. I’ve been considering quitting and going back home.”

“Quitting the search?”

“Winter’s coming on. Snow will be coming. When the ground freezes, it’ll really be hard to dig. It’s hard enough now with all them rocks.”

Josiah released the reins and turned to face Joseph. “Calm down.” He grasped Joseph’s shoulders. “I can see you’re upset, but we can’t give up just because ol’ Isaac fusses.”

“What should we do?”

“The truth is, Isaac was against this from the beginning. I talked him into it. It’s hard to bend when you’re our age, you know.”

“It’s not just Isaac that’s bothering me,” Joseph said. “It’s my eyes. I didn’t want to tell you, but they get sore. Light shines from the stone and it hurts.”

“I suspect what’s really bothering Isaac has less to do with the stone and more to do with the way you look at Emma.”

“Really? Do you think he notices?”

“Unless he’s blind, he can also see the way she looks at you.”

“That’s all the more reason to leave. Except, if I go, how will I see Emma?”

Josiah lowered himself from the wagon and began to examine the horse’s legs and hooves. He remained contemplative as he walked around the team. Joseph jumped down to the ground. Josiah nodded his head, as though a decision had been reached. He turned to his young friend, “It might be wise to stop digging for

a while. We can always continue come spring. But if I were you, I’d consider returning to Bainbridge. Emma’s a fine young woman. She could make a big difference in a young man’s life.”

“She already has.”

“If you return to Bainbridge, you could continue to see her every now and then.”

“Sure. But what would I do? Even if I found some work, I couldn’t stay with Isaac.”

“I could use an extra hand. And you know Joseph Knight. He could probably use you at his carding mill. Have you ever prepared wool for spinning before?”

“No. I’d be willing to learn.”

“Of course you would. Talk to your father and brother about going home.”

“I already have. They agree with me.”

“Then, it’s decided. We’ll stop work for now. I’ll take you back home. As soon as you can settle things in Manchester, come back to my place. Next spring, we can continue the search.”

Joseph smiled. “You’re not going to give it up, are you?”

Josiah wore a wide grin. “Can’t give up.

Note: Is Joseph guilty of deceiving people? Judge Neely will give his courtroom verdict next Monday.

A New Frame House

Alvin and Joseph stood in front of the frame of a new, larger house located a short distance from the existing small cabin. The Smiths were buying the one hundred acre property at a price of one hundred dollars a year. It was difficult to meet the payment, but so far they had never failed. They felt confident in their ownership

of the land.

It was Alvin’s idea to build this new frame house and much of the labor was his. On this day, Joseph took time from his usual chores and offered to lend a hand. “You sure have done a lot of work,” he said to his brother.

Alvin smiled. “I want Ma and Pa to have a little comfort in their old age. They’ve worked so hard and gotten so little.”

Joseph, equally aware of his parents’ toil through the years, was pleased with the progression at the construction site. “Now that the frame is up, the rest should be easy.”

“I hope so. Pa really needs our help in the fields.”

The brothers busied themselves carrying and positioning lumber and driving nails. Intent on their work, they almost forgot the time.

Suddenly, Alvin groaned and bent over in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Joseph asked, wide-eyed.

Alvin held his stomach with both hands, his face suddenly turned ashen. He groaned again.

Joseph quickly grabbed his brother’s arm and threw it over his shoulder. “I’ve got to get you to the cabin.” He braced himself in anticipation of the additional weight and with stouthearted determination bore the load.

As he neared the cabin, Lucy came out the front door, wiping her hands on her apron, obviously concerned to see Alvin leaning on Joseph, his feet barely supporting the weight of his body. She rushed the two young men into the main room and began to bark frantically, “Get the doctor! Quick!”

Joseph stayed by his brother’s side while his father dashed toward town. Several hours passed before the small cabin door reopened. Alvin caught a glimpse of the kindly Dr. Greenwood and his small black bag.

The doctor examined Alvin, shone a light into his eyes, and gently pressed on his abdomen. He listened to Alvin’s heart carefully. When the doctor finally stood and removed the stethoscope from around his neck, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small glass vial. “Drink this,” he said. “It’s a purgative.”

Alvin resisted. “I’m not drinking any of that.” He turned his face away from the cup of thick, white compound, one corner of his lip turned upward in disgust.

“But—” Lucy protested.

“It’s just a little calomel,” the doctor said. “It’ll fix you up right quick.” He winked, finished packing his bag and closed it shut. He started to leave the room and then turned and said, ‘If you need me, I can come back. But do take your medicine, son.”

Alvin was adamant in his refusal to take the medication.

Lucy pleaded with him, “It is for your own good.”

“Take it,” Joseph begged. “Please.”

Towering beside the bed, Joseph Sr. implored, “If nothing else, do it for your ma. You know how she worries about you.”

Alvin wrinkled his nose, opened his mouth, and placed the thick, chalky liquid on his tongue, scrunching his face as he swallowed. He waited for the promised relief but found instead that his distress grew worse. “That damned calomel,” he cried as he writhed in pain.

“It feels like it is lodged in my gut.”

Lucy rushed to her son. “Just wait a bit. Maybe it needs more time to work.”

Time brought no relief. Alvin continued to complain of pain and continued to insist the medicine had somehow lodged in his stomach.

On the third day, Lucy, afraid for her son, called her husband and said, “You must go to town. Get Dr. M’Intyre. Don’t get anybody else.”

A few hours later, when Father Smith returned, Lucy was delighted to receive four physicians into her small frontier cabin. Dr. M’Intyre had been traveling with his colleagues when summoned. He arrived with Dr. Robinson, a friend of the family, and two associates.

“What seems to be the problem?” Dr. M’Intyre asked as he removed his stethoscope from his bag and placed it around his neck. He gently pressed on Alvin’s bare belly.

“It’s an awful pain, Doc. It’s that damned medicine that’s stuck in my gut.”

Dr. M’Intyre frowned as he continued to probe Alvin’s tender flesh with his fingers and question him about the onset of the problem.

“This will take my life,” Alvin predicted. “I can feel it. It’s my time.”

“Nonsense,” Lucy said.

“You’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “You are young and strong, and the body has a remarkable ability to heal itself.”

To alleviate the pain, the doctor tried moist heat compresses and warm water with lemon and a touch of honey–the tools of the trade of his time. There was a long period when the pain subsided and the doctors went on their way, certain their patient would mend.

My Time Has Come

Later that evening, Alvin persisted in the notion that his time had come. He spoke to Hyrum and Sophronia with the words of a dying man. On the fourth night, he asked to speak with each of his siblings in turn. When Joseph’s turn came for his private talk, Alvin said, “This hurts bad, and it’s not going away. My time is very short.”

“No,” Joseph pleaded, his eyes wet with tears.

“I want you to be good. And, you know that record you told me ‘bout.”

Joseph remembered. “The one buried in the hill?”

“Do everything in your power to get it.”

Joseph raised his arm and used his shirt sleeve to wipe the moisture dripping onto his cheek. “I will,” he promised.

“Remember the example I have set for you. You have to set that same example for the younger children.”

Joseph bent forward and put his arm on Alvin’s shoulder. Still wiping his tears, he rose to allow room for the next family member.

When Alvin had finished speaking with his parents and siblings, he seemed to feel at peace.

“I can breathe out the last of my life as calmly as a clock,” he said. A thin smile covered his lips as he closed his eyes and died.

The funeral was grim. Services were held at the Presbyterian church that Lucy had been attending fairly regularly. Many of the townspeople came to pay their respects. The family’s grief was intense, and became mixed with silent anger as they heard Reverend Stockton intimate that Alvin was going straight to hell.

As soon as the service ended, Lucy stomped toward the reverend, her sons by her side. “You had no right to say such a thing,” she charged, her eyes still wet with tears.

“I have not seen your son in church for sometime,” the reverend said with an air of confidence. “As far as I can tell, your boy can be counted among the unbelievers.”

Lucy buried her face in the small cloth she carried in her hand, too torn with grief to defend her son against the preacher’s arrogance.

Softly, she muttered, “He believed all right. He believed.”

The Smith family had to forget about the reverend’s harsh words and begin to deal with the loss, but the small frontier cabin was plagued with emptiness. Outside their door, a short distance away, stood the frame of a house, a painful reminder of a life that ended too soon.

Before his death, Alvin had charged Hyrum to complete the work on the new frame house. Joseph helped as often as he could. Weighed by a sense of grief, the work progressed slowly and then ceased. Joseph quit using his stone.

Ten months passed and the wounds had begun to heal when the family became aware of awful rumors being spread around town of gross and hideous crimes committed by students of the nearby Willoughby Medical College. This talk caused renewed pain. Lucy sobbed relentlessly. “Do you think they dug up Alvin’s body? I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Father Smith moved closer to the table where Lucy sat and laid his thick palms on her bowed shoulders. “Now dear, don’t fret. It’s just stories. Probably there isn’t an ounce of truth to it.”

Joseph tried to comfort her. “You know how people talk, Ma.”

Lucy found no solace. She turned her red, tear-stained face to

her husband, her eyes swollen. “What if it’s not idle gossip? What

if it’s the truth?”

Father Smith’s face flushed red with anger. “If those damned would-be doctors dug up my boy’s body just so they could see what’s inside, they’ll have a mighty big price to pay.”

Lucy began to regain control of her tears. She stood and turned toward her husband. “I’ve been trying to ignore the talk, but it lingers in my mind. When I’m cooking or cleaning, the thought of Alvin’s remains being used for some sort of science experiment runs shivers up my spine.”

Let’s Take a Look, Pa.

“Let’s take a look, Pa,” Joseph prompted.

Father Smith raised an eyebrow. “Dig him up?”

“It may be the only way to put the vicious tongues to rest,” Hyrum said.

Father Smith sat stoop-shouldered and silent for a few short minutes. Then he stood and said, “I reckon you might be right. This is my job. You boys stay here.” He headed out the door, his two sons trailed behind.

“Pa,” Joseph called, “I’m going too.”

“Me, too,” Hyrum said.

Father Smith nodded and led the way to the barn. The men hitched up the horses and loaded three shovels and a couple of buckets into their wagon. They were soon standing on the small piece of land where Alvin had been buried. The men dug in and continued to work until they hit solid wood.

Father Smith set down his shovel, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. The work resumed, now more carefully. Finally, Joseph Senior threw his shovel aside and began brushing the loose soil aside with his bare hands. He turned toward his sons and said, “You boys leave me be now. I can handle this.”

His look and his tone left no room for dissent. Reluctantly, the brothers walked off a short distance, their shovels still in hand. In the quiet of the night, Father Smith’s sobs of pain were mixed with relief. “He’s here all right,” he said. He pulled his shirt tail toward his face to wipe the moisture falling onto his cheeks.

“Well,” Hyrum said solemnly, “let’s close it up again.”

“No!” Father Smith asserted. “We must find some other place to bury him.”

Joseph nodded. “Some place no one knows about.”

The three men continued their digging until they freed the pine wood box from its earthen chamber. They hefted the heavy load into the back of their wagon and moved slowly through the night in search for the ideal resting place. Near sunset, they finished the task and retired to their Manchester home.

“We’ll have to do something to keep the tongues from wagging,” Father Smith said. “Maybe we should put an announcement in the paper. Let people know that Alvin’s body has not been taken by the gravediggers.”

“That might do some good.” Joseph glanced toward Hyrum, who nodded his agreement.

“Damned right it will,” Father Smith said.

The next day, a lengthy announcement was written and submitted to the local newspaper, The Wayne Sentinel, for publication. As the days passed, the Smiths breathed a heavy sigh. The gossip had stopped. Alvin’s body would rest in peace.

Note: Join us next week as Joseph uses his stone to help Mr. Stowell locate a lost silver mine

The Smith brothers were l only two of the eight million people who inhabited the twenty-five United States in the fall of 1822. Joseph inhaled deeply in an effort to clear the dust from his lungs. The air was hot and heavy, sweat poured down his face, and his tongue was thick and dry. The seventeen- year-old threw his shovel down and faced his older brother, Alvin. “Whew! It’s good to see the light of day. There’s no air in that hole.”

His body was stained with the same black dirt that had surrounded him only a few moments before. His pants were patched and soiled and his shirt, in places, threadbare. He used his shirttail to wipe the coal-colored residue from his face and neck. He picked up his old white hat, dusted it, and placed it on his head.

He walked with a slight limp, a carryover from a childhood illness,now so familiar to him that it almost went unnoticed. He reached for the wooden dipper that Alvin had filled from a jug of spring water. He drank slowly and passed the dipper for a refill.

“Air’s pretty heavy up here too,” Alvin said. He laid the jug down.

“Sun goes down pretty soon. It’ll cool off.”

Joseph breathed deeply to fill his nostrils with crisp, clean air. “Wonder what’s taking Willard so long,” he mused. Willard acted as foreman of the crew.

“He hasn’t surfaced yet. We dug a long way down. I calculate ‘bout twenty-four feet and still no sign of water. Old man Chase won’t be happy.”

The sound of footsteps shuffling through the newly fallen leaves caused Joseph to turn. “Samuel! Northrop!” he exclaimed at the sight of his friends.

Northrop wore his usual wide grin, his fingers hooked through his suspender straps. “Just stopped by to see how things are going. Not so good, as I hear it.”

Joseph was about to answer when Willard’s blackened hand surfaced. Slowly he lifted himself out of the hole and stood. Without thinking, he quickly placed his hand over his shirt pocket, brushed against a slight bulge and then smiled.

“What’s that in your pocket?” Northrop asked.

“Nothing,” Willard protested.

Northrop edged closer. “Lemme see.”

Willard withdrew ever so slightly. “It’s mine.”

“We won’t take it from you, Willard. We just want to look.”

Alvin passed the dipper and jug to Willard.

Willard glanced past the dipper. “Aw right,” he said. “Suppose there ain’t no harm in just looking.” Slowly, he pulled an object out of his breast pocket.

“Why, it’s a stone,” Samuel said, surprised.

Willard took the hard object and held it in his open palm. Slowly, he turned it. “It’s small but sort of curious, ain’t it.”

Alvin moved closer.

“Look at that!” Northrop said, wide-eyed. “Same color as chocolate.”

“Let me see,” Joseph inched forward. “I know something ‘bout stones.”

“You know ‘bout everythin’,” Samuel said. He tried to nudge Joseph aside.

“Willard knows about stones too,” Alvin said. “Doesn’t your sister use a stone?”

Willard frowned. “Sally has a stone, but I ain’t sure I believe in this art of divining.”

Joseph shrugged. “What’s there to doubt?”

“You would say that,” Samuel said. “That ol’ guy Walters, he taught you a lot ‘bout magic, didn’t he.”

“He taught me some,” Joseph admitted. “So did Pa. And, I had a seer stone before.”

“Really?” Northrop asked.

“Sure,” Joseph bragged. “Walters taught me a lot. Most everything he knows.”

Samuel snickered. “Ha! You’re making this up.”

“He’s not making it up,” Alvin said. “I’ve seen him work with a stone before and the rod-of-nature too.”

“The rod-of-nature?” quizzed Northrop.

“Come on!” Joseph said. “Deep down, don’t we all believe in spirits?”

“I don’t believe in talking with ‘em,” Willard said, “If they’re out there, let ‘em be. They ought to be left in peace.”

“What if the spirit has a treasure of coins or jewels. We should try

to contact the spirit and find the treasure.”

“Horse Feathers!” Willard said. “We should leave them alone.”

Northrop sighed. “You’re always so skeptical. If you can’t see nothin’, you think it can’t be there.”

Willard wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I looked through

Sally’s stone one day and what I saw was nothin’.”

“Just because you don’t see it don’t mean it’s not there,” Joseph

said. “Not everyone has the power to see with a stone.”

“I suppose you do,” Willard challenged.

“Joe has the talent, all right,” Alvin vouched.

“Take a look, Joe,” Northrop said. “We’d all like to know what’s below this earth.”

Joseph reached down to wipe his sweaty palm on his pant’s leg. “If Willard don’t mind.”

Willard passed the stone. Joseph removed his hat, turned it, and placed the stone in its bowl. He placed his face in the hat and encircled his head with his left arm to block out the light. He took a few steps in each direction. The men stood waiting.

“See anythin’?” Willard asked in a whisper.

Joseph looked up. “Give me a chance.” He paced, his face once again buried in his hat.

Moments passed. Willard became impatient. “Well, can you see anything or not?”

Joseph looked up again. “Nope. Can’t see a thing.” He returned the stone to its owner.

“Well,” said Willard, “it’ll be dark soon. We don’t need a stone to find water. It’s got to be here somewhere.”

Northrop turned toward his home and called over his shoulder, “Tomorrow, then.” Samuel trailed behind.

Joseph and Alvin began their short trek across the flat fields that separated the Chase property from their own one-hundred acre farm. The backdrop of gentle, rolling hills obscured the clear line of the horizon and gave a place for the sun to hide the last rays of light.

Alvin slowed his pace. “Wouldn’t it be great if you could see with that stone? Could be all kinds of treasures buried near here.”

“Could be!” Joseph gasped at the understatement. He stopped and turned slowly, scanning the distant terrain. The wide-open space was lush and green, dotted with chestnut, hawthorn, cottonwood, and live oak trees. The hills laid consecutively, with a slight overlap. One hill stood out majestically, taller and higher than all the rest.

“Where do you suppose these hills come from? And why do they call them mounds?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Because they’re

man-made, that’s why. They’re burial sites.”

“Nobody is going to argue with you ‘bout that. Everybody knows the tales of the Mound People. Once you get beyond the bones, who knows what a person could find? Surely, there are chests of gold coins.”

“No doubt.”

“Why, I’d wager those ancient inhabitants had gold and silver.

What do you think their money was like?”

“Probably silver. They’d use the gold for bracelets and trinkets and things.” Joseph’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “But you know, that was a seer stone.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t see nothin’.”

“Couldn’t. But I recognize the properties and attributes and in the right place, with proper concentration, and in the proper hands, I’m certain that stone has power.”

“And you didn’t say nothin’.”

“If I did, Willard wouldn’t let me have it. He’d keep it.”

“He kept it anyway.”

“Yeah!” Joseph said. “Now I’ve got to think of a way to get it back.”

“Just ask Willard if you can borrow it. It’s of no use to him.”

“Maybe,” Joseph mused. Then he saw their small log cabin in the distance and set aside his thoughts of the stone. “I’ll race you,” he challenged. They ran toward the cabin and the man standing in front of it.

Father Smith held his hands up with the palms facing outward.

“Whoa!” he said. His rough skin revealed decades at the plow. A heavy sprinkling of white hair along the side of his face and through the top of his head gave him an aura of wisdom.

Joseph and Alvin came to a sudden stop. They were breathless. “I missed you boys in the fields today. How’d things go over at Chase’s?”

“No water,” Alvin said, gasping for breath. “Joe found a seer stone.”

“A seer stone?” Father Smith turned to Joseph. “Where’d you find it?”

Joseph was bent at the waist, his hands resting on his thighs, his labored breathing now became shallower. He straightened up.

“Willard found it,” he said. “He picked it up from the bottom of the well just because he liked the looks of it. He doesn’t know it has power.”

“Did he let you have it?” Father Smith asked.

“He kept it. But, I’m gonna try to borrow it again.”

The three men stooped slightly as they passed through the small cabin doorway. Inside, they faced one large room. At one end stood a rough hewn table and chairs, and a large black pot hung over the hearth. The air was filled with the aroma of boiled rabbit and garden vegetables.

Lucy Smith stood by the hearth, tending the meal. As the men entered, she looked up and by way of greeting she asked, “Anybodyhungry?”

“Starved,” Father Smith said.

“When do we eat?” Alvin asked.

“As soon as you wash your hands. Hyrum may be late, but there is plenty. He can eat later.” Lucy Smith spoke of her second son, aged twenty-two.

The family moved around the small cottage easily. Sophronia, the oldest of the girls, now nineteen, helped her

mother set the table, while ten-year-old Catherine watched over year-old baby Lucy.

The family seated themselves at benches on either side of the table. Seven-year-old Don Carlos, twelve-year-old William, and fourteen-year-old Samuel entered the room and took their places.

After the evening meal, the girls cleared the table while the boys and girls busied themselves with the fire and rearranging their rough-hewn, three-legged stools in a semicircle before the hearth.

“Do we have to read again?” Catherine fussed.

“You learn to read by reading,” Lucy said. “And you learn ‘bout God through his word.”

“I want Joe to tell us a story ‘bout the Indians,” Catherine insisted, a whine in her voice.

“He told us ‘bout the Indians last night,” Sophronia said, long-faced.

Don Carlos moved to the front of the hearth and sat on the bare

wooden floor.

“It was a fun story.”

Lucy Smith sat in her favorite rocker, the well-worn family Bible balanced on her lap. “Joe’s story was quite entertaining,” she said with a smile. “He described the people of long ago so well you’d think he lived with them all his life.”

Don Carlos asked, “Ma, ain’t Joe’s stories the same as lyin’?”

“I don’t lie!” Joseph protested. “I just tell tales.”

“Boy has imagination,” Father Smith said. He lowered himself into the chair opposite his wife.

“I wanna hear ‘bout the Indians again,” Catering persisted.

“I don’t,” Sophronia said flatly.

Father Smith held up his hand. “Enough!” he said a little too loud.

Lucy was more soft spoken. “Why don’t we let Pa tell us ‘bout

one of his visions.”

The young Smiths were as familiar with their father’s vision stories as they were with Joseph’s tales of the Indians. Father Smith had experienced seven separate moments of meaningful experience that he interpreted as being from God.

The Smith Family sat quietly as Father Smith told a story of a time when an angel appeared to him. The vision included a beautiful stream of water, a low and lush green valley, and a tree of white fruit. Upon tasting the fruit, the father longed for his family. In this vision, he experienced the love of God and saw the city of Babylon.

“What does it mean?” William asked. “Don’t the tree and the river mean nothin’?”

“Sure they do,” Father Smith answered. “But, sometimes you have to wait to understand the full meaning of a vision.”

“Why do people have visions?” Sophronia asked.

“It’s God’s way of talkin’ to us and givin’ us spiritual guidance,” Lucy said.

Sophronia frowned. “Seems to me, He isn’t always clear.”

“You could always ask one of the preachers,” Don Carlos suggested.

“Preachers?” Father Smith’s voice snapped. “Why, they don’t know more than anybody else.”

Joseph said, “I bet I could take my Bible and go into the woods and learn more in two hours than you can learn at a meeting in two years–even if you go all the time.”

“There are so many different churches,” Sophronia said, obviously puzzled.

Lucy sighed. “Sometimes the churches seem to testify against each other. Your Pa has no strong feelings ‘bout any particular church.”

“Not ‘bout to either,” Father Smith said. “Don’t have much faith in preachers.” He reached for Lucy’s worn text of Scripture and opened the book. After a short reading from the prophecies of Isaiah, he offered a short prayer.

Joseph awoke early the next morning and slipped out unnoticed. The dew was still on the ground when he found Willard preparing for his morning milking chores. It took some convincing but he succeeded in persuading Willard to let him use the stone.

The day’s digging brought no water but Joseph was not concerned. He had the stone and had begun to test its power. The more he worked with it the more he became convinced, “This stone has got fantastic power!”

Several days later, after continued unsuccessful digging, Joseph met with Martin Harris, a local farmer who occasionally hired the Smith brothers as farm hands. He was taking a shortcut across Smith’s field.

“Hey,” Joseph called. He was seated on the fence near the barn, his friend Northrop at his side. “Come sit a spell.”

“Hi,” the round-faced Martin said. He lifted himself to the fence.

“What’re you doin’ with that pin?” Northrop asked.

“I’m pickin’ my teeth with it. What does it look like?”

“It doesn’t look too safe to me. What if you swallowed it?”

“If it fell into my mouth, I wouldn’t swallow.” Then, suddenly struck with an idea, Martin turned to Joseph. “Whatever happened to that stone you told me about?”

“I’ve got it,” Joseph said hesitatingly.

Martin sneezed and then gasped, “I lost my pin!”

“Ha!” Northrop laughed. “I told you.”

Martin jumped down from the fence, his arms akimbo. “It fell out of my mouth, not in it.”

“It fell.”

Martin knelt and searched through the straw, moving the yellow blades ever so lightly. Suddenly, he looked up and said, “Hey, Joe! Why don’t you look for it with your stone?”

Joseph lowered himself to the ground and removed his hat. He placed the stone in the upturned bowl and put his face into the hat. He stood very still. Slowly, he lowered himself as he moved his right hand forward. He grabbed onto a stick and began to spread the hay into thin layers.

“There it is,” Martin shouted. “Don’t move! I see it!” Carefully, Martin scooped the pin into the palm of his hand.

Joseph stood. He displayed the stone between his thumb and index finger. “I told you I can find things with this stone.”

“That’s fantastic!” Martin said, full of wonder.

“I’ve found lots of uses for this stone,” Joseph bragged. “I found old man Miller’s hatchet after he lost it.”

Northrop had his own tale to tell. “Me and Joe went out diggin’ the other night and we came across a chest of some kind. We couldn’t dig it up, but Joe saw that it was there through a great mound of earth.”

“Really?” Martin stood, wide-eyed.

Soon, stories of chests of gold began to circulate and even though nothing valuable was uncovered, Joseph began to earn a reputation as a necromancer of great skill.

* * *

"Next week: A sudden tragedy leaves Joseph’s world—and his faith—reeling. How do you face a silence that won't end?"

The Content:

• The Hook: Joseph Smith, the first Mormon Prophet, was a colorful and dramatic personality, charismatic and easy to love. He was also a man who had a talent for getting on peoples’ nerves. It was those others who called him ‘Holy Joe!’. Everyone who read the newspapers of the day, and those with him in the midst of the action, knew the prophet had this other name. Today, this name grabs attention and speaks to a multifaceted personality: ‘prophet, seer, and revelator, yes. He was also known as ‘Holy Joe!’.

• Join me on a journey into the heart of 19th-century America where we follow in the footsteps of Joseph Smith Jr., a man of immense ambition and complexity, from the “money digging” hills of Manchester to his frantic final days in the Carthage Jail. Here you will encounter the trials, the treasure hunters, the devoted followers, the mobs that felt threatened by him, and the fierce believers who helped shape a movement that changed the American landscape forever.

The Roadmap

The story unfolds across forty-seven chapters divided into the following four parts, spanning the period from 1822 - 1844.

• Part I: Upstate New York (The money digging years and the birth of a vision)

• Part II: Kirtland, Ohio (Building a temple and facing financial ruin)

• Part III: Far West, Missouri (Conflict, militia, and the “Extermination Order”)

• Part IV: Nauvoo, Illinois (The rise of a city-state and the final martyrdom)
  
  

The Author and AI

• All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. Consequently, you may notice the pictures aren’t always identical matches. In one scene, Joseph’s hair might have a bit more curl; in another, the lighting changes his look slightly. That is the nature of working with AI right now—it’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws.

• Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history,

• While Gemini assists me with research for my second book and has been very hands-on in crafting the visual presentation for this project, the research and writing of Holy Joe! is entirely my own.

How to Read

I am releasing the full text of the book—all forty-seven chapters—right here on Substack.

• The Weekly Pace: A new chapter will be posted every Monday.

The Binge Option: If you’re an “eager beaver” who doesn’t want to wait for the weekly drop, the complete book is available now in print and ebook.

Buy "Holy Joe!" on Amazon