Eleven of those apostles were now dead, one only surviving.

(Just as with our friends of Mr.Irving's sect at Albury, which arose in the same year as Mormonism.) We had never set eyes on the originals of our own Scriptures--in fact, they did not exist--but believed the witnessing of others, as he did.

He himself was not a missionary, but would go if he was sent by the Church; though he mightn't like it, he was bound to, obey, authority, &c.

&c.
I had plenty more talk with him, and found him intelligent, modest, and in every way a remarkably agreeable young fellow: and I added to my mental _repertoire_ of better judgments that on Mormonism,--even as heretofore Mr.Sinnett has taught me not utterly to despise Buddhism, Dr.Wilkinson to revere Swedenborgianism, and a few other people I might name who are true believers, to be charitable as to other sorts of strange isms: once I met a very religious clergyman who still held by Johanna Southcote; and we have all heard how Lady Hester Stanhope had an Arab horse always ready saddled for Messiah when He is to ride into Jerusalem; and how some other person had a gold spoon and fork laid daily at his table for the sudden coming of a Divine Guest! Our personal lesson is to be tolerant of all manner of innocent enthusiasms, to hear both sides and bear with all opinions,--sometimes finding to our astonishment that black sheep may after all be whiter than they looked, and that uncharitable prejudice is but another name for ignorant folly.
Before taking leave of my Mormon guest, I ought to report that he was teetotal, handsome, taciturn rather than talkative, a hunter among the Rockies, an author himself, and of course an old book-friend, so I made him happy with some autographic poetries.
With reference to "Joe Smith's" own theological creed, there is a very neat and notable _precis_ of it on p.

171 of a bright little book I have lately read, titled "Frank's Ranche, or my Holiday in the Rockies," easily accessible.