Lambdin had intrusted the precious manuscript to his bosom friend, Sidney Rigdon, that he might embellish and alter it, as he might think expedient.  The publisher now dead, Rigdon allowed this chef-d’oeuvre to remain in his desk, till, reflecting upon his precarious means, and upon his chances of obtaining a future livelihood, a sudden idea struck him.  Rigdon well knew his countrymen, and their avidity for the marvellous; he resolved to give to the world the “manuscript found,” not as a mere work of imagination or disquisition, as its writer had intended it to be, but as a new code of religion, sent down to man, as of yore, on awful Sinai, the tables were given unto Moses.

For some time, Rigdon worked very hard, studying the Bible, altering his book, and preaching every Sunday.  As the reader may easily imagine, our Bible student had been, as well as Spalding, a Jack-of-all-trades, having successively filled the offices of attorney, bar keeper, clerk, merchant, waiter, newspaper editor, preacher, and, finally, a hanger-on about printing-offices, where he could always pick up some little job in the way of proof correcting and so forth.

To us this variety of occupations may appear very strange, but among the unsettled and ambitious population of the United States, men at the age of fifty have been, or at least have tried to be everything, not in gradation, from the lowest up to the highest, but just as it may happen—­doctor yesterday and waiter to-day—­the Yankee philosopher will to-morrow run for a seat in legislature; if he fails, he may turn a Methodist preacher, a Mormon, a land speculator, a member of the “Native American Society,” or a mason—­that is to say, a journeyman mason.

Two words more upon Rigdon, before we leave him in his comparative insignificance!  He is undoubtedly the father of Mormonism, and the author of the “Golden Book,” with the exception of a few subsequent alterations made by Joe Smith.  It was easy for him, from the first planning of his intended imposture to publicly discuss, in the pulpit, many strange points of controversy, which were eventually to become the corner-stones of the structure which he wished to raise.

The novelty of the discussions was greedily received by many, and, of course, prepared them for that which was coming.  Yet, it seems that Rigdon soon perceived the evils which his wild imposture would generate, and he recoiled from his task, not, because there remained lurking in his breast some few sparks of honesty, but because he wanted courage; he was a scoundrel, but a timorous one, and always in dread of the penitentiary.  With him, Mormonism was a mere money speculation, and he resolved to shelter himself behind some fool who might bear the whole odium, while he would reap a golden harvest, and quietly retire before the coming of a storm.  But, as is often the case, he reckoned without his host; for it so happened that, in searching