making their own impression, but not on reason or memory. A sickening
dread of a call that would come before she got away was all that she
fully realised. It came when, in her white gala dress, she stood still
at last near to, and under the eye of, the preacher.

The sermon was finished. There was a silence at its end so unexpected
that none in the crowd broke it. It seemed for those moments to reach
not only into the hearts of the crowd, but into the wide, empty vault of
sunny blue above them, and over the open fields and golden woods. Then,
before the wrath of the crowd had gathered strength to break into
violence, Smith went down into the water and called loudly to all such
as felt the need of saving their souls to enter upon the heavenly
pilgrimage by the gate of his baptism. His adherents had cast themselves
upon their knees in prayer. Susannah saw the strong, dark face of Oliver
Cowdery looking up to the sky as though he saw the heavens opened, and
she saw Angel Halsey look at herself, and then, clasping his hands over
his fair young face, bow himself in supplication.

A man, ragged in dress, and bearing the look of ill deeds in his face,
made his way out of the crowd into the water. He was a stranger to the
place, and the spectators looked on in silent surprise. Before Smith had
dipped him in the stream and blessed him another man came forward, pale
and thin, with a hectic flush upon his cheeks. He was a well-known
resident of Manchester; all knew that his days on earth must be few. A
low howl began to rise, loudest on the outskirts of the crowd, but the
fact that the man was dying kept many silent, feeling that the doomed
may surely have their own will.

Before Joseph Smith had spoken his benediction over this trembling,
gasping creature, when Halsey had left his kneeling to spring forward