of the State
Legislature he had learned well how to handle men in the mass, but
nature had doubly endowed him for entrancing women. The spiritual part
of James Strang, King and Prophet of a peculiar sect, appealed to
the one best calculated to appreciate him during the remainder of his
exhortation.

The Tabernacle, to which Beaver Island Mormons gathered every Saturday
instead of every Sunday, was yet unfinished. Its circular shape and
vaulted ceiling, panelled in the hard woods of the island, had been
planned by the man who stood in the centre. Many openings under the
eaves gaped windowless; but the congregation, sheltered from a July sun,
enjoyed freely the lake air, bringing fragrance from their own fields
and gardens. They seemed a bovine, honest people, in homespun and
hickory; and youth, bright-eyed and fresh-cheeked, was not lacking. They
sat on benches arranged in circles around a central platform which held
the Prophet's chair and table. This was his simple plan for making his
world revolve around him.

Roxy Cheeseman, Emeline's cousin, was stirred to restlessness by the
Prophet's unusual manner, and shifted uneasily on the bench. Her short,
scarlet-cheeked face made her a favorite among the young men. She had
besides this attraction a small waist and foot, and a father who was
very well off indeed for a Beaver Island farmer. Roxy's black eyes, with
the round and unwinking stare of a bird's, were fixed on King Strang, as
if she instinctively warded off a gaze which by swerving a little could
smite her.

But the Prophet paid no attention to any one when the meeting was
over, his custom being to crush his notes in one hand at the end of
his peroration, and to retire like a priest, leaving the dispersing
congregation awed by his rapt face.

The two cousins walked sedately along the street of St. James village,
while their elders lingered about the Tabernacle door shaking hands.
That primitive settlement of the early '50's consisted of a few houses
and log stores, a mill, the Tabernacle, and long docks, at which
steamers touched perhaps once a week. The forest partially encircled it.
A few Gentiles, making Saturday purchases in a shop kept by one of their
own kind, glanced with dislike at the separating Mormons. The shouts
of Gentile children could also be heard at Saturday play. Otherwise a
Sabbath peacefulness was over the landscape. Beaver Island had not a
rugged coastline, though the harbor of St. James w