wrought in her a dreamy receptive mood. Climbing higher, she came upon a
very curious dip or hollow in the ground. In its narrowest part a man
was lying prostrate; his face was buried in his hat, which was lying
upon the ground between his hands; the whole expression of his body was
that of attention concentrated upon something within the hat. When she
came close he moved with a convulsive start, and she saw that it was
Joseph Smith.

His look changed into one of deference and satisfaction. He rose up,
lifting his hat carefully; in it lay a curious stone composed of bright
crystals, in shape not unlike a child's foot.

"It's my peepstone," he said. "It's the stone I look into when I pray
that I may be shown what to do." Exactly as one child might show to
another some worthless object he deemed choice, he showed the stone to
her.

"I don't know what you mean. How could a stone help you?"

"All I know is that when I've been lying for a long time, feeling that
I'm a poor fellow and haven't got no sense anyway, and the tears come to
my eyes and gush out, feeling I'm so poor and mean, then when I lie and
look and look into this peepstone, I see things in it, pictures of
things that is to be, and sometimes of things that are just happening
alongside of me that I didn't know any other way. I can't say how it may
be; I only know when I see it that I am 'accounted worthy.'"

"You couldn't see anything in the stone."

"No more I couldn't. The stone's nothing, an' I'm nothing, and that's