sitting upon a hill that cannot be hid, but on the contrary, from its lofty eminence challenges the attention of the world. In Illinois, as in Missouri, the religious toleration guaranteed in the Constitutions of both the State of Illinois and of the United States--religious toleration, at once the boast and pride of Americans, and also the test of true enlightenment and the highest civilization--this vaunted toleration was in Nauvoo put to the test and found wanting. That is, before the exodus of The Church from Nauvoo, it became evident that a people accepting what to their neighbors was a singular faith, and one that was unpopular withal, could not live in peace among their fellow-citizens of other faiths, and hence the exodus, not only from Nauvoo but from the entire State of Illinois and also from the United States. The Latter-day Saints, in a word, were expatriated from the United States, [1] and sought an asylum in the wilderness, and among tribes of savages. From whence, after half a century, that same Church emerges, enlarged, prosperous, more firmly rooted in safety and in strength of faith than ever before--a greater enigma to the religious world than when it made its exodus from Illinois. All these things have a relation to Nauvoo, for The Church had a sort of second birth there, which makes the Rise and Fall of Nauvoo a theme of peculiar interest to those interested in what the world calls Mormonism, and who is not or should not be interested in a religious movement of such proportions, of such pretensions and of such achievements in the face of such opposition as it has met? * * * * * * Nauvoo, then, its rise and its fall, is to be the subject of my discourse. The word Nauvoo comes from the Hebrew, and signifies beautiful situation; "carrying with it also," says the prophet Joseph Smith, "the idea of rest." And, indeed, the location of the city is beautiful. No sooner does one come in view of it than he exclaims, "It is rightly named!" The city, or at least the marred remains of it, stands on a bold point around which sweeps the placid yet majestic "Father of Waters"--the Mississippi. The city is at least half encircled by that noble stream. From its banks the ground rises gradually for at least a mile where it reaches the common level of the prairie that stretches out to the eastward, farther than the eye can reach, in a beautifully undulating surface, once covered by a luxuriant growth of natural grasses and wild flowers, with here and there patches of timber; but now chequered with meadows, and, at the time of my visit, in 1885, with fields of waving corn.