“But,” says he “them plates”—
But I was so rousted up with my emotions, that I waved out my right hand with awful dignity, and says I:
“You shall pass them plates.”
And I held firm, and made him pass ’em. And he went to bringin’ up the miracles that had been done by the early church—curing the lame and deaf, healing the sick, and et cetery, and so forth. Says he: “I have heard that you are a woman that loves reason and fair play,” and says he, “you can’t get over those miracles, can you?”
Says I candidly: “I don’t want to get over no miracles, and hain’t tried to. But I can say with the poet, that so far as believin’ of ’em is concerned, miracles is sunthin’ I had rather see done myself than to hear of ’em. Howsumever, I hain’t a goin’ to say that you hain’t done ’em. As to healin’ the sick, the wonderful power and magnetism one strong mind can exert over a weaker one, when the weaker one has perfect faith in it, has a great many times performed deeds that looked miracilas, out of the Mormon church, and most probable in it. But even if you have raised the dead, which I don’t think you claim you have done, it would make me no more a believer in mormonism; for we read of a woman not religious, who did that. And I never hankered after keepin’ company with Miss Endor, or wanted to neighbor with her, or appear like her.”
“You are unreasonable, mum,” says he.
“I don’t mean to be,” says I. “I have allowed all you want me to, and more too. What more can you want?”
“You deride our holy church. Our church foundered on the Commandments of God.”
“Which one?” says I enquirin’ly.
“Which one?” says he haughtily. “Every one of ’em; every one of ’em.”