By the time Hiram Hopkins took his seventh degree of in August 1826, had decided Freemasonry was of extraordinary importance. I thought, recalled, that nothing excelled the masonic degrees, except the Christian religion, and thought they were but little surpassed even by that. His final degree-the Royal Arch-involved two or three hours of hard labor, but Hopkins again found himself excited by the ritual, which was, according to the most popular contemporary handbook of indescribably more august, sublime, and important than all which precede it. Thus, when the man who had led Hopkins through the ceremony took him aside and warned him of a plan to the secrets of being contemplated by William Morgan of nearby Batavia, New York, Hopkins was appalled. If Morgan was guilty of such an outrage upon the laws of Masonry, later remembered thinking, it was just for him even to lose his life. Morgan's threat to publish Masonry became the topic of many anxious discussions in the weeks to come. Many wanted to send Morgan forcibly out of the country. Hopkins would have gone even further. I thought, recalled, he deserved to die. Less than a month later, area Masons abducted Morgan, taking him to what may have been his death. Hopkins, a resident of Lockport, New York, played a small role in the event, helping his cousin, the county sheriff, prepare the jail for the expected arrival of Morgan. After the incident became a major public issue, however, a guilt-ridden Hopkins turned against the fraternity. He decided his previous high opinion of