of his desire. And if my father was--as I suspected--considering a
recession from plural marriage, he had as justification the basic
"revelation," given through "Joseph the Prophet," commanding that the
people should hold themselves in subjection to the government under
which they lived, "until He shall come Whose right it is to rule."

We talked till midnight, in the quiet glow of the farmer's lamp-light,
discussing possibilities, considering policies, weighing men; and then
we parted--he to betake himself to whatever secure place of hiding he
had found, and I to return to Ogden where I was then editing a
newspaper. I was only twenty-nine years old, and the responsibility of
the undertaking that had been entrusted to me weighed on my mind. I
waited for a summons to confer with President Woodruff, but none came.
Instead, my brother brought me word from the President that I must be
"guided by the spirit of the Lord;" and, finally, my father sent me
orders to consult the Second Councillor, Joseph F. Smith.

Joseph F. Smith! Since the death of the founder of the Mormon Church,
there have been three men pre-eminent in its history: Brigham Young, who
led the people across the desert into the Salt Lake Valley and
established them in prosperity there; George Q. Cannon, who directed
their policies and secured their national rights; and Joseph F. Smith,
who today rules over that prosperity and markets that political right,
like a Sultan. Of all these, Smith is, to the nation now, of most
importance--and sinisterly so.

No Mormon in those years, I think, had more hate than Smith for the
United States government; and surely none had better reasons to give
himself for hate. He had the bitter recollection of the assassination of
his father and his uncle in the jail of Carthage, Illinois; he could