Corianton: A Nephite StoryRoberts, B. H. (Brigham Henry)
Religion
Corianton: A Nephite Story
Roberts, B. H. (Brigham Henry)
Latter Day Saints -- Fiction
Meantime our party passed down one of the principal streets of the
ancient city, into the market square. Here many were engaged in
unpacking fruits and vegetables from huge baskets strapped across the
backs of asses, and arranging them under awnings to preserve them from
the scorching rays of the sun. In the richest profusion were piles of
fruits and vegetables, luscious grapes and fragrant bananas, lemons,
limes, figs, dates, bread-fruit and a variety of vegetables such as
the tropics alone can produce. Purchasers were already thronging to
the market, and as our party from the city of Gideon passed on,
Korihor shouted to them, as he had done to the crowd at the gate,
which resulted in quickly gathering a throng of men who eagerly
questioned the guards as to the man's offense--"alleged offense, you
mean," he cried, "for I am guilty of no crime, except we have fallen
on those evil days to which the idle traditions of our fathers tend,
when to disbelieve the words of ancient dotards styling themselves
prophets, and giving expression to one's honest thoughts has become a
crime; or when resisting the oppression of judges, who ever have one
ear turned to a priest to learn what superstition teaches is the word
of God, be a wrong; and when to be the friend of liberty, a foe to
tyranny whether in priest or judge--and an enemy to an enslaving
superstition, is considered worthy of bonds and the prison."
This and much more that he said as he passed along, surrounded by his
guards, produced no little excitement in the crowd, for in those
ancient days and distant climes, as well as in our own day those who
persuaded men they were not well governed had many willing followers;
and then as now demagogues, blasphemers and the enemies of law and
order knew what a tower of strength the cry of freedom gave to a
cause, however unworthy or destructive of the very thing in the
interest of which, ostensibly, they worked.
Having passed through the marketsquare and through a narrow, irregular
street, with massive, two-story stone houses on either side, which
marked the most ancient part of the city, the guards suddenly turned
to the right into a large square, on one side of which stood an
immense structure of hewn stone with a wide, high porch, supported by
massive pillars, and approached by a broad flight of stone steps. This
was the Hall of Justice, as indicated in an inscription carved in the
stone above the porch. To the right of the building extended a high
stone wall in which was hung a heavy wooden door, plentifully studded
with iron spikes. To this door the guard who had led the party from
the east gate of the city directed his footsteps, and taking a small
wooden mallet suspended by a chain fastened to the door post, he
struck the door three smart blows, and a moment later a small wicket
in the upper part of the door was opened and a harsh voice demanded
what was wanted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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