the uncommercial traveller-第68章

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Covenant；　BRIGHAM　YOUNG；　PARLEY　P。　PRATT；　JOHN　TAYLOR。'　　From　this

book　…　by　no　means　explanatory　to　myself　of　the　New　and　Everlasting

Covenant；　and　not　at　all　making　my　heart　an　understanding　one　on

the　subject　of　that　mystery　…　a　hymn　was　sung；　which　did　not

attract　any　great　amount　of　attention；　and　was　supported　by　a

rather　select　circle。　　But　the　choir　in　the　boat　was　very　popular

and　pleasant；　and　there　was　to　have　been　a　Band；　only　the　Cornet

was　late　in　coming　on　board。　　In　the　course　of　the　afternoon；　a

mother　appeared　from　shore；　in　search　of　her　daughter；　'who　had　run

away　with　the　Mormons。'　　She　received　every　assistance　from　the

Inspector；　but　her　daughter　was　not　found　to　be　on　board。　　The

saints　did　not　seem　to　me；　particularly　interested　in　finding　her。



Towards　five　o'clock；　the　galley　became　full　of　tea…kettles；　and　an

agreeable　fragrance　of　tea　pervaded　the　ship。　　There　was　no

scrambling　or　jostling　for　the　hot　water；　no　ill　humour；　no

quarrelling。　　As　the　Amazon　was　to　sail　with　the　next　tide；　and　as

it　would　not　be　high　water　before　two　o'clock　in　the　morning；　I

left　her　with　her　tea　in　full　action；　and　her　idle　Steam　Tug　lying

by；　deputing　steam　and　smoke　for　the　time　being　to　the　Tea…kettles。



I　afterwards　learned　that　a　Despatch　was　sent　home　by　the　captain

before　he　struck　out　into　the　wide　Atlantic；　highly　extolling　the

behaviour　of　these　Emigrants；　and　the　perfect　order　and　propriety

of　all　their　social　arrangements。　　What　is　in　store　for　the　poor

people　on　the　shores　of　the　Great　Salt　Lake；　what　happy　delusions

they　are　labouring　under　now；　on　what　miserable　blindness　their

eyes　may　be　opened　then；　I　do　not　pretend　to　say。　　But　I　went　on

board　their　ship　to　bear　testimony　against　them　if　they　deserved

it；　as　I　fully　believed　they　would；　to　my　great　astonishment　they

did　not　deserve　it；　and　my　predispositions　and　tendencies　must　not

affect　me　as　an　honest　witness。　　I　went　over　the　Amazon's　side；

feeling　it　impossible　to　deny　that；　so　far；　some　remarkable

influence　had　produced　a　remarkable　result；　which　better　known

influences　have　often　missed。　*



*　After　this　Uncommercial　Journey　was　printed；　I　happened　to

mention　the　experience　it　describes　to　Lord　Houghton。　　That

gentleman　then　showed　me　an　article　of　his　writing；　in　THE

EDINBURGH　REVIEW　for　January；　1862；　which　is　highly　remarkable　for

its　philosophical　and　literary　research　concerning　these　Latter…Day

Saints。　　I　find　in　it　the　following　sentences：…　'The　Select

Committee　of　the　House　of　Commons　on　emigrant　ships　for　1854

summoned　the　Mormon　agent　and　passenger…broker　before　it；　and　came

to　the　conclusion　that　no　ships　under　the　provisions　of　the

〃Passengers　Act〃　could　be　depended　upon　for　comfort　and　security　in

the　same　degree　as　those　under　his　administration。　The　Mormon　ship

is　a　Family　under　strong　and　accepted　discipline；　with　every

provision　for　comfort；　decorum　and　internal　peace。'







CHAPTER　XXIII　…　THE　CITY　OF　THE　ABSENT







When　I　think　I　deserve　particularly　well　of　myself；　and　have　earned

the　right　to　enjoy　a　little　treat；　I　stroll　from　Covent…garden　into

the　City　of　London；　after　business…hours　there；　on　a　Saturday；　or　…

better　yet　…　on　a　Sunday；　and　roam　about　its　deserted　nooks　and

corners。　　It　is　necessary　to　the　full　enjoyment　of　these　journeys

that　they　should　be　made　in　summer…time；　for　then　the　retired　spots

that　I　love　to　haunt；　are　at　their　idlest　and　dullest。　　A　gentle

fall　of　rain　is　not　objectionable；　and　a　warm　mist　sets　off　my

favourite　retreats　to　decided　advantage。



Among　these；　City　Churchyards　hold　a　high　place。　　Such　strange

churchyards　hide　in　the　City　of　London；　churchyards　sometimes　so

entirely　detached　from　churches；　always　so　pressed　upon　by　houses；

so　small；　so　rank；　so　silent；　so　forgotten；　except　by　the　few

people　who　ever　look　down　into　them　from　their　smoky　windows。　　As　I

stand　peeping　in　through　the　iron　gates　and　rails；　I　can　peel　the

rusty　metal　off；　like　bark　from　an　old　tree。　　The　illegible

tombstones　are　all　lop…sided；　the　grave…mounds　lost　their　shape　in

the　rains　of　a　hundred　years　ago；　the　Lombardy　Poplar　or　Plane…Tree

that　was　once　a　drysalter's　daughter　and　several　common…councilmen；

has　withered　like　those　worthies；　and　its　departed　leaves　are　dust

beneath　it。　　Contagion　of　slow　ruin　overhangs　the　place。　　The

discoloured　tiled　roofs　of　the　environing　buildings　stand　so　awry；

that　they　can　hardly　be　proof　against　any　stress　of　weather。　　Old

crazy　stacks　of　chimneys　seem　to　look　down　as　they　overhang；

dubiously　calculating　how　far　they　will　have　to　fall。　　In　an　angle

of　the　walls；　what　was　once　the　tool…house　of　the　grave…digger　rots

away；　encrusted　with　toadstools。　　Pipes　and　spouts　for　carrying　off

the　rain　from　the　encompassing　gables；　broken　or　feloniously　cut

for　old　lead　long　ago；　now　let　the　rain　drip　and　splash　as　it　list；

upon　the　weedy　earth。　　Sometimes　there　is　a　rusty　pump　somewhere

near；　and；　as　I　look　in　at　the　rails　and　meditate；　I　hear　it

working　under　an　unknown　hand　with　a　creaking　protest：　　as　though

the　departed　in　the　churchyard　urged；　'Let　us　lie　here　in　peace；

don't　suck　us　up　and　drink　us！'



One　of　my　best　beloved　churchyards；　I　call　the　churchyard　of　Saint

Ghastly　Grim；　touching　what　men　in　general　call　it；　I　have　no

information。　　It　lies　at　the　heart　of　the　City；　and　the　Blackwall

Railway　shrieks　at　it　daily。　　It　is　a　small　small　churchyard；　with

a　ferocious；　strong；　spiked　iron　gate；　like　a　jail。　　This　gate　is

ornamented　with　skulls　and　cross…bones；　larger　than　the　life；

wrought　in　stone；　but　it　likewise　came　into　the　mind　of　Saint

Ghastly　Grim；　that　to　stick　iron　spikes　a…top　of　the　stone　skulls；

as　though　they　were　impaled；　would　be　a　pleasant　device。　　Therefore

the　skulls　grin　aloft　horribly；　thrust　through　and　through　with

iron　spears。　　Hence；　there　is　attraction　of　repulsion　for　me　in

Saint　Ghastly　Grim；　and；　having　often　contemplated　it　in　the

daylight　and　the　dark；　I　once　felt　drawn　towards　it　in　a

thunderstorm　at　midnight。　　'Why　not？'　I　said；　in　self…excuse。　　'I

have　been　to　see　the　Colosseum　by　the　light　of　the　moon；　is　it

worse　to　go　to　see　Saint　Ghastly　Grim　by　the　light　of　the

lightning？'　　I　repaired　to　the　Saint　in　a　hackney　cab；　and　found

the　skulls　most　effective；　having　the　air　of　a　public　execution；

and　seeming；　as　the　lightning　flashed；　to　wink　and　grin　with　the

pain　of　the　spikes。　　Having　no　other　person　to　whom　to　impart　my

satisfaction；　I　communicated　it　to　the　driver。　　So　far　from　being

responsive；　he　surveyed　me　…　he　was　naturally　a　bottled…nosed；　red…

faced　man　…　with　a　blanched　countenance。　　And　as　he　drove　me　back；

he　ever　and　again　glanced　in　over　his　shoulder　through　the　little

front　window　of　his　carriage；　as　mistrusting　that　I　was　a　fare

originally　from　a　grave　in　the　churchyard　of　Saint　Ghastly　Grim；

who　might　have　flitted　home　again　without　paying。



Sometimes；　the　queer　Hall　of　some　queer　Company　gives　upon　a

churchyard　such　as　this；　and；　when　the　Livery　dine；　you　may　hear

them　（if　you　are　looking　in　through　the　iron　rails；　which　you　never

are　when　I　am）　toasting　their　own　Worshipful　prosperity。

Sometimes；　a　wholesale　house　of　business；　requiring　much　room　for

stowage；　will　occupy　one　or　two　or　even　all　three　sides　of　the

enclosing　space；　and　the　backs　of　bales　of　goods　will　lumber　up　the

windows；　as　if　they　were　holding　some　crowded　trade…meeting　of

themselves　within。　　Sometimes；　the　commanding　windows　are　all

blank；　and　show　no　more　sign　of　life　than　the　graves　below　…　not　so

much；　for　THEY　tell　of　what　once　upon　a　time　was　life　undoubtedly。

Such　was　the　surrounding　of　one　City　churchyard　that　I　saw　last

summer；　on　a　Volunteering　Saturday　evening　towards　eight　of　the

clock；　when　with　astonishment　I　beheld　an　old　old　man　and　an　old

old　woman　in　it；　making　hay。　　Yes；　of　all　occupations　in　this

world；　making　hay！　　It　was　a　very　confined　patch　of　c