No one in the beginning of this work was more zealous, or more successful than Corianton. Indeed it was his success that began to work a great mischief; for it filled him with pride and boasting in his own strength. By the force of his brilliancy, and a kind of genius for controversy, he discomfited the Zoramites, and exposed the shallowness of their principles to the great delight of the multitude who, though they believed not the message he was delivering, were immensely pleased with the youthful orator. There were fundamental truths of the gospel, however, to which Corianton himself was not converted; the atonement of Christ, the resurrection, the justice of God in punishing the wicked, being among them. He found, as many since his day have found, that seeing a single manifestation of the power of God--a miracle--had not removed all the difficulties in the way of a sound faith in the gospel; and in his own mind he began to find ways of accounting for the destruction of Korihor's speech--his own excitement, the mysterious magnetism of his father which swayed men's minds, a power which he flattered himself he had inherited, notwithstanding his unbelief. One day about sunset, while in this frame of mind, as he was passing down one of the main thoroughfares of Antionum, he saw a poor, wretched object begging of those who passed him on the street. He was miserably clad and filthy, his form emaciated and trembling with weakness, but there was something in the profile of the face, a resemblance to a countenance which lived in Corianton's recollection, that attracted his attention. As he approached nearer he observed a wildness about the man, occasioned by desperate efforts at speech, resulting only in harsh, disconnected and unintelligible mumbling. To his astonishment, it was Korihor. The form was wasted, the features shrunken almost past recognition, and insanity glared from his wild eyes. Corianton gazed in pity upon him, and Korihor returned that look with one of puzzled wonder. Then as the mists and confusion of his mind cleared up for the moment, he recognized his former, and what he accounted his false friend, and with a wild shriek fled out into the street, looking back at Corianton as he ran with an air expressive of horror. At that moment a troop of horsemen was passing down the street, and so sudden had been the poor half maniac's flight from the presence of Corianton, that he threw himself in front of the horsemen, and before they could check their speed or change their course, he was knocked down and trampled upon.