concerned. "Mr. President," I asked, with the composure of desperation,
"do you really want to settle the Mormon question?"

He looked at me with the first gleam of humor that had shown in his eyes--
and it was a humor of peculiar richness and unction. "Young man," he
asked, "what have I been saying to you all this time? What have I been
working for, ever since I first took up the consideration of this
subject at the beginning of my term?"

"Mr. President," I replied, "if you were traveling in the West, and came
to an unbridged stream with your wagon train, and saw tracks leading
down into the water where you thought there was a ford, you would
naturally expect to cross there, assuming that others had done so before
you. But suppose that some man on the bank should say to you: 'I've
watched wagon trains go in here for more than twenty years, and I've
never yet seen one come out on the other side. Look over at that
opposite bank. You see there are no wagon tracks there. Now, down the
river a piece, is a place where I think there's a ford. I've never got
anybody to try it yet, but certainly it's as good a chance as this one!'
Mr. President, what would you do? Would you attempt a crossing where
there had been twenty years of failure, or would you try the other place--
on the chance that it might take you over?"

He had been regarding me with slowly fading amusement that gave way to
an expression of grave attention.

"I've been watching this situation for several years," I went on, "and
it seems to me that there's the possibility of a just, a humane, and a
final settlement of it, by getting the Mormon leaders to come
voluntarily into court--and it can be done!--with the assurance that