menu_book Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII. I AM LEFT ALONE. When the Apostle Snow called upon Mr. Stenhouse to go to Italy, the Saints willingly accepted the responsibility of providing for me during his absence. They thought it was more an honor than a burden to have this charge committed to them, but it was very humiliating for me to be

placed in such a position, however anxious they might be to assist me and to serve the general cause. To face opposition or to give my all for my religion, I was willing indeed, but to depend upon others for my daily bread was utterly repugnant to my feelings. Although, of course, if the Church sent away my husband whose proper place and duty it was to support his family, it

was only right that the members of the Church should undertake the responsibility. But then, and at many other times during my life, I have learned the truth of Christ's precept. It is more blessed to give than to receive. The American Apostle was not without worldly wisdom when he proposed that an unmarried man should be appointed to preside over the Southampton Conference, as his wants

would be few. But if Mr. Stenhouse had been solicited by a friend who had a wife and children to secure his appointment and with ready confidence in that friend, he overlooked his own interests and my welfare, and I was left to pass through trials and privations which I can never forget. The Saints were very kind and took pleasure in doing all they could for me, but the mistake which

my husband committed in leaving his friend to succeed him as president of the Conference was soon apparent. The friend thought of his own family first, and the family required all that the Saints could reasonably be expected to contribute. And even then they had not enough. I therefore received only such little sums as could be withheld from them, and to make the matter worse, those who had any

property or estate were counseled to sell all and gather to Zion. The more wealthy Saints were soon gone, and the current expenses of the Church fell heavily upon those who were hardly able to support their own families. They tried to send me something every week, and I have no doubt they did send me all they could. When their contributions reached four or five shillings, about one dollar,

I thought myself fortunate. More often I did not receive the value of fifty cents in the whole week, at times less, and sometimes nothing at all. That unfailing comfort to respectable English poverty, a cup of tea, was my greatest luxury, but at times for weeks together I had not even that. I had nothing but bread. But I never complained. Whenever it was possible I concealed my true situation

from everyone, and in my almost daily letters to my husband not a shadow of a hint was ever dropped relative to my own privations. I wanted him to be successful in his mission, and I feared that his energy would desert him if he knew of my difficulties. I was in extreme poverty, certainly, but for myself I was not in trouble. God would provide for me, I felt, and it was glorious to suffer in a sacred

cause. But darker days, days of severer trial, were creeping slowly near me. Up to this time I had worshipped God and loved my husband with a perfect heart. Now the dark shadow of an accursed thing was looming in the distance, but approaching surely if slowly. The strange suggestions made by darling little Mary Burton at the picnic were not the first whisperings that I had heard of a

probable change in our faith and practice respecting marriage, though I did not care to tell her so. Others had spoken in my presence of the same subject, but I had not believed them. I had questioned my husband, and his answers had reassured me. Although polygamy was utterly denied by the missionaries in Europe, yet long before it was openly avowed a great deal was written and said

on the subject. Joseph Smith, whatever he said and did in private, always denied it in public, and after his death the leaders of the church followed his example. In some way, however, an idea had got abroad that the Mormons were somewhat unsound respecting the marriage question. Still the elders stoutly denied the charge, and the more they were accused the more strenuous became their

denials. At a public discussion at Ballon-sur-Mer in France, the Apostle John Taylor, in reply to the accusations of polygamy which were brought against him, said, We are accused here of actions the most indelicate and disgusting, such as none but a corrupt and depraved heart could have contrived. These things were too outrageous to admit of belief. I shall content myself with quoting our

views of chastity and marriage from a work published by us, containing some of our articles of faith, Doctrine and Covenants. He then proceeded to quote from the Book of Doctrine and Covenants such passages as the following, Marriage is ordained by God unto man, wherefore it is lawful that he should have one wife, and they twain should be one flesh. He quoted many other things

also among which might be enumerated the following, Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and shalt cleave unto her and none else. He quoted also many other passages of scripture which had reference to the subject, each powerful to put aside even the idea of polygamy, and each equally powerful as an argument against polygamy itself. Let the reader here note the value of what Mormons say

when their faith is called in question. See and judge. Brother Taylor, who spoke at that meeting and utterly denied polygamy, had himself at that very moment when he so atrociously perjured himself, and when he swore that no Mormon had more than one wife, five wives living in Salt Lake City. One of his friends there present had two wives, and the other was married to a mother and her own

daughter. Any conclusion, any expression of disgust at these abominations and deliberate perjuries, I leave to the reader. Among those who came to see Mr. Stenhouse before he left for Italy was Elder Margots, an English elder of some prominence in the British mission. At the picnic of which I have already spoken, I noticed that this elder was more than usually attentive to a pretty young

sister who was also present. There was always an affectionate familiarity among the Saints, as I previously mentioned. They were like brothers and sisters and addressed each other as such. But the attentions of the elder I speak of pointed a little beyond all this. He could not perhaps be accused of any open impropriety, but he certainly looked much more like the girl's lover than an

ordinary friend or her spiritual advisor. I knew this elder's family in London, and his conduct pained me a good deal. So I drew the attention of my husband to the circumstance, and he said the elder was foolish, but he would speak to them both, and this he did. After the departure of the missionaries, this elder remained for several days. He then returned to London, but it was not long before he was again

in Southampton, and he still paid market attention to the same young sister. This caused unpleasant remarks among the Saints, who at this time certainly did not believe that polygamy was practiced in Utah. At a later date, this elder, with some others, was again in Southampton, and I was invited to take tea with them at the house of one of the Saints. In the course of the evening, there was a general conversation on the work of the Lord,

in which I, of course, was greatly interested. Whenever any of the missionaries were visiting, the Saints would seek their society just like children who were glad to meet again their parents after a long absence, and at such times they were at liberty to ask what questions they pleased. On the evening I speak of, I well remember that the general subject of conversation was the apostasy of the Christian Church from the true order of God's salvation. Prominence was given

to the history of Abraham and his descendants, and occasional allusion was made to their marital relations, but nothing directly was spoken. It was very evident that these elders only wanted to drop a word or two here and there to suit those who wanted it, but nevertheless they spoke so obscurely and mysteriously that they could easily have retracted what was said if anyone had accused them of teaching a doctrine which they were unwilling openly to avow. When I returned home

that night, I was fully satisfied that the elder I have spoken of had a reason for his frequent visits to Southampton, and shortly after the young sister went to London. Whether polygamy was ever to be a doctrine of the Church or not, it was very clear to me that the London elder was a polygamist at heart. The more my mind dwelt on these things, the more sick at heart I did become, and faint and weary. I had, however, personal cares and trials enough to engage my attention. I found that I could

not depend upon the saints to provide me with even the barest necessities of life, so I looked about me and made inquiries for some light employment by which I might support myself. My health at that time would not have allowed me to do much, but for a long time I could not get anything at all to do. I had, of course, been used to teaching, but employment of that kind, it was just then impossible for me to take, even if I could have got it. The only resource which seemed left to me was to find

occupation for my needle, and it was a long and weary time before I could obtain even this. At length I got a little plain sewing to do, and out of the miserable pittance thus earned, I contrived to pay my rent and provide a few necessaries. But at times that too was beyond my power, and I have gone a fortnight at a time with nothing to eat but dry bread. Still my faith never failed, and thus the weary days passed by. Now, however, a new interest began

to gather round my life, for I expected before the end of the year the arrival of a little stranger to share my affections and my care. This certainly was a sad beginning of domestic bliss, but still the thought was pleasant to me. I had at that time no one to aid me or comfort me. The saints were very kind, but they could not supply the place of an absent husband. My dearest friend, Mary Burton, used to come as often as she could to see me, and her presence

was like a gleam of sunshine. But she was so young and innocent and happy that I had not the heart to trouble her with my sorrows. All my jewelry and trinkets and the greater part of my wardrobe had gone in providing for my daily wants and in preparing those necessary trifles upon which a young mother bestows so much loving care. My health was daily failing, and sometimes I doubted if I should ever be well and strong again.

But all that I suffered was for the church, and that thought sustained me. Often I would sit alone and think. Think of the past and all my early daydreams of love and hope and bliss. Think of my husband in a far off land, devoting his life and all his energies to the preaching of the latter-day glory. Think of those whisperings of that accursed doctrine, which has since brought desolation and anguish to the hearts of so many weary women. Think of

my future life, dark as its promise even then appeared. Sometimes I heard from Italy, heard how my husband was progressing with his work, and with wifely love I sympathized with him in all his difficulties. For he told me how arduous the task was in which he was engaged. It was not the expectation of the Mormon apostles that the missionaries would do much in Catholic Italy. The same causes were in operation there as affected the work in France. Few, if any,

really good Roman Catholics have ever joined the Saints. The Irish mission was never successful, and the same may be said of the French and Italian missions. In France and Italy by far the greater part of the people might be classed under two heads, Roman Catholics and infidels. The first already had an infallible guide in which they trusted, and as for the infidels, they ridiculed the idea of any guide at all. Both classes were utterly devoid of that acquaintance

with Scripture of which Mormon missionaries understood so well how to take advantage, and rendered them so susceptible to religious influences which took the Bible as their basis. The missionaries in Italy soon experienced the difficulties presented by these facts. After their arrival in Genoa, Mr. Stenhouse was directed to carry the Gospel to the Waldenses, those brave old Protestants of the Dark Ages who so manfully suffered even unto death for

conscience' sake. And some time after he had begun his labors among them, the Apostle Snow joined him. Whatever they might believe or teach theoretically, there can be no doubt that the American Apostles were largely endowed with the organ of caution. Preaching without purse or scrip among people who either detest you as a heretic or else regard you with profound indifference is not a pleasant task, and the Mormon Apostles very prudently took up liberal collections in

England before they started. Had it not been for this common sense proceeding, I am at a loss to say what would have become of the missionaries in Italy. And as it was, their lot was not a very enviable one. Besides the scarcity of money, the other great difficulty experienced by the missionaries was learning the language of their destined converts. For many years it was supposed among the Saints that the gift of tongues would be all sufficient for this purpose.

The two distinguished Apostles Orson and Parley P. Pratt, whose writings did so much for Mormonism, had both of them eloquently discussed the subject in print. But the missionaries soon discovered that for practical purposes the gift was not of much service, and the two Prats themselves afterwards experienced, the one in South America and the other in Austria, the fallacy of their theories. Without the gift, in any shape, the work in Italy

was necessarily very slow, and an elder who could speak a little French was sent out from London to assist them. They had at last come to the conclusion that if the Lord would not bestow the gift upon them, they must try to acquire it themselves. The Apostle Snow now thought of sending the Gospel to the Swiss, and Mr. Stenhouse was selected for the work. But before he went, it was determined that the Church in Italy should be organized, and about a week later I received a long account of how this

was done. I heard how one pleasant November morning the Apostle Snow, Elders Stenhouse and Woodward, together with several Waldenses whom they had converted, ascended the mountainside contiguous to La Tour, Pinarello. There they sang praises and prayed. They christened the place Mount Brigham, and the stone upon which the three Elders stood, and offered up a written prayer they named the Rock of Prophecy. And there they organized the Church, dedicating the soil of Italy to the Lord.

Moreover then and there my husband was solemnly consecrated a high priest after the order of the Son of God. All this I heard, and much more, and in confiding faith that this was indeed a great and glorious work, I rejoiced that I had been accounted worthy to suffer patiently at home if only my husband might successfully fulfill his task abroad. After that I heard that he had left Italy, and had arrived in Geneva, believing that he would be more successful among the Swiss

than the Italians. A few days after the arrival of the missionary in Geneva, an event occurred which interested my own self personally. My little Clara was born. Very happy was I when I looked upon her tiny little face for the first time, and kissed her for being the prettiest baby in the world. Very happy was I when I folded her in my arms, and talked to her as if she could understand all that I said. Very happy indeed as I looked at her again and again, and marveled whether she really

could be, indeed and certainly, my own baby girl. It seemed as if baby's papa would never come back again, but I had a companion now in my child, and weak and weary as I was, with new responsibilities and less power to help myself, I found comfort in my new care, and realized the truth of the old Scotch song. Muc li lictor is the load when uve bears up the creel. I was not now alone. Then two came round to see me, Mary Burton. She was as fond and tender to me as ever, and tripped

quietly about the room, and tried to wait upon me, and sat by the bed playing with a baby, calling her all the pretty things she could think of, and I felt that her presence brought new light and life to my room. She brought me another letter from my husband, and I found that he was now acquiring for himself the gift of the French tongue. Unable to do much else, as he and everybody didn't understand each other. He could not yet talk to the French-speaking Genovese, and the

English-speaking residents would not listen to him. They had only heard of Mormonism as a clumsy fraud, and looked upon the Prophet Joseph Smith as an imposter. So, for a whole winter, he sat shut up in his own room, poring over a French grammar, and deploring his hard fate in being denied the gift of tongues. In the spring of the new year, I received a distinguished visitor who kindly interested himself in my welfare. The Apostle Lorenzo Snow left Piedmont for England, and passed

through Geneva en route. On his way to England, he called upon me at Southampton, and expressed much sympathy for me. He noticed the change in my appearance, and immediately sent for Mr. Stenhouse to return to England. He acted very kindly by me at that time, did all that he could to assist me, and said that he never again would ask any man to make such a sacrifice. I fully appreciated his kindness, but much as I wanted to, I did not venture to ask him about the truth, or falsity,

of those terrible suggestions which I had heard whispered of late. My husband hastened home, coming by way of Calais, in order to meet his President and receive his instructions. The Apostle showed much sympathy for him, and very early in the morning accompanied him some miles to the railway station. But he never once mentioned how I had been situated in Southampton until he left him, and then he exacted from him a promise not to open his lips whatever

he might learn. I need not say that I was happy to see my husband once again, and to present to him his little daughter who was now five months old. He was, of course, soon busy in visiting the Saints, and he received from them many tokens of attachment. In the beginning of June, a General Conference of the branches of the Church in Britain was held in London. The Apostles and foreign missionaries were present, and my husband and I were also there. We had speeches

and prayers. The business of the Conference occupied but very few minutes, for no measure was questioned. Among the Mormons there are no opinions, no discussion. The Presiding Head has made out his program before he comes to the Conference. He knows what he wants to do, and no one ever questions him. He may, perhaps, for forms' sake, invite the Brethren to speak on any point he introduces. But when he has furnished the clue to his wishes, the elders who speak only

spend their time in arguments in favor of his measures. At the Conference of which I speak, the reports of the native elders were very cheering to us. Throughout England and Wales, they had been most successful in adding members to the Church. Mormonism was then most successfully preached in Britain. There were more Mormons there than in all Utah territory. There were 50 conferences with over 700 organized branches, and more than 6,000 men ordained to the priesthood.

That peculiar influence which the Mormons call the Spirit, of which I have spoken, elsewhere was spoken of by the elders as being a common experience everywhere. During all that Conference, I listened carefully for a word from the lips of any of the speakers which might indicate in any way that polygamy was part of the Mormon faith. But not a whisper, not a hint, was uttered. I naturally concluded that the elders, whose doubtful expressions at Southampton had so troubled my mind,

were misinformed or unsafe men. Still I could not altogether banish my apprehension of coming evil, but so bound to secrecy were those who did know of polygamy being practiced in Utah that there was not one who would admit to it, and even my own husband's lips were sealed to me. He did not deny it, but he would not talk about it, and did everything he could to banish the thought from my mind. At that Conference, the Apostle Snow spoke very strongly of the way in which I had been neglected,

and it was arranged that Elder Stenhouse should return to Switzerland, and that I should accompany him. My knowledge of French was expected to be very serviceable. We now made preparations for an early departure, and prepared to leave our friends. To the reader it may seem strange for a man, his wife, and babe to be sent out in this way on a mission without any proper arrangement for their maintenance, but to my mind at the time it seemed to me not only perfectly proper, but altogether in

accordance with God's word and commandment. My young friend, Mary Burton, came round to bid me good-bye, and the poor girl wept, and I wept with her, and we kissed one another tenderly as our tears mingled. We had become very dear to each other, and the thought of separation for years, or perhaps forever, was very painful to us. She hung about my neck at the last moment, kissing me and begging me not to forget to write her very, very often, and this I gladly promised

her, asking the same in return. Then with a fond embrace we parted, and it was years before I saw her dear face again. Thus it was that we three, my husband, my babe, and myself, set forth on our pilgrimage to convert the Swiss. It was with no ordinary feelings that I entered the ancient city of Geneva. I was not ignorant of its history and the struggles of its inhabitants for civil and religious liberty. It had been the refuge for the English Protestants during the fiery days of Queen

Mary. Just as in the time of the French Revolution it was the refuge of infidel and papist, royalist and republican alike, where Calvin lived in gloomy austerity, battling with Rome. There, Servetus the Unitarian was condemned to be roasted alive as a heretic, and there we expected in our own humble way to be able to testify by our suffering and patience to what we firmly believed was the truth. In free countries like England and the United States, free from the surveillance of a

military police, it is easy, if he wishes it, for the missionary to mount a chair at a street corner or hold forth under a tree, and such has often been done. But all over continental Europe there is hardly a place where this would be possible. In the various grand duchies, kingdoms, and empires, paternal governments look too closely after the morals and religion of their subjects, while under the ephemeral republics, as long as they happen to last, there is often to be found

under the name of liberty, a despotism more despotic than under the rule of royalty. It is the Col. Porteur, the man of books and tracts, who makes the converts there, and in this slow way we soon found that we were destined to proceed. During my husband's former stay in Geneva he had had neither Mormon books nor Mormon papers, with the exception of a paper published at Boulogne containing a letter by the Apostle Taylor in French and English. This single copy he lent

to a Genovese to read and never saw it again, and yet in a short time, even before he could properly speak French, he converted and baptized two men in the Rhône, one of whom is today a devoted Mormon in southern Utah. His first attack was upon a shoemaker whom he visited for the purpose of repairs. While the shoemaker worked, Elder Stenhouse talked, and as the English are all reputed wealthy on the continent, the friendly overtures of the Mormon missionary were graciously

received. As they grew intimate, Elder Stenhouse would sit down on the bench beside the man as he worked, and taking from his pocket a French testament, which he always carried about with him, would try to read it aloud, the good-natured shoemaker undertaking to correct his pronunciation. In this way he kept his auditor's attention constantly fixed upon certain passages, more especially those which spoke of baptism for the remission of sins,

and the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost. So persistent was he that at last the shoemaker's curiosity was awakened, and finally he was baptized. But unfortunately not long after, a small pamphlet upon the mission of Joseph Smith fell into his hands and made a shipwreck of his faith. With his second convert he was much more successful. This time it was his landlord who was to be the subject of attack. He was a tailor, and fortunately for the missionary,

somewhat talkative. The same arrangement was made about reading and correction, and with a like result. The tailor was baptized. Just at this time came the Apostle Snow's letter telling my husband to return to England, and as he might not leave the country without a representative, he ordained the tailor a priest in the Mormon church. When we arrived in Geneva, Monsieur La Tellure was all that constituted the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Switzerland. Soon a few

personal friends began to gather to hear the English missionary tell about the new religion, and my husband being very much in earnest, interest before long began to be excited. I remember well our first meetings. Among the Swiss, half a dozen people sitting round a table with open Bibles before them, passages from which Mr. Stenhouse was trying, in very bad French, to make them understand. I pitied him very much, but those who were present made as if they did

not notice his embarrassment, and listened with marked attention. Among the Mormons it is a woman's duty to keep silence. I therefore remained a listener only. But at the close of the service, for such it was regarded. When I might speak, my missionary labors began. I was aroused to eloquence, and our parting was longer than our meeting. The warmth with which the few who were present responded to our efforts satisfied me that they had come under the same mysterious influence which

I had observed in England. I was then convinced that Mormonism could awaken the Christian soul more to a realization of what it already possessed, than impart to it any new moral or religious qualities. Mormonism of itself never made Christians, but Christianity built up Mormonism. It was an awakening to the teachings of Christ and His Apostles that begat confidence in the mission of the Mormon prophet. Although we observed the very strictest economy, it did not take long

for us to exhaust what little money we brought from England. This placed us in a very awkward position. It is inconvenient enough to be without money in one's own country, where one understands and is understood by everybody, but to be in a strange land, especially in a country like Switzerland, where every Englishman is supposed to be, a mille-l'or, and the bounteous dispenser of unlimited wealth, it is more than inconvenient. We left our first quarters, where we had had so

many visitors, and rented a room from a widow woman who, fortunately, was not inquisitive. She had a family of children to support, and as we paid our rent monthly in advance, she had no occasion to know whether or not we kept a bank account, and we were thankful that it was so, for had it been so ordained, we could there have starved to death without attracting the notice of any one. A nice thing to be thankful for. We were not hopeless, though we were heavy-hearted,

but we had expected trial, and could not complain, for we knew from the beginning that thus it would probably be. One day my husband received a letter from an infidel gentleman who lived in Lausanne, a neighboring canton, requesting him to come and see him, that they might talk together over Mormonism, for he had heard of us and of our doctrine, and my husband resolved to visit him before our money was all gone. When Mr. Stenhouse reached Lausanne, he visited first a Protestant

minister with whom he had some slight acquaintance, and who was also interested in Mormonism, and told him that he was going to call upon the governor de l'Hôpital. The minister was greatly opposed to my husband visiting such a man. He is a socialist, he said, a revolutionist. He fought at the barricades. He is a maveur souillet, and anything but a fit person to be spoken to about religion. This only increased the interest which Mr. Stenhouse felt in the governor, and made him

more than ever determined to see him, and he did see him, although the good minister had represented him ainsi noir que la diable. So they met, and my husband began the work for which he had come. They had long talks together, and my husband, as did the elders ever in such cases, spoke to the governor of redemption through Christ, and baptism for the remission of sins. Faith is not an act of will. Like the unseen wind, it comes, and we see a power thereof,

but know not whence it proceeds. The unbelieving governor found it. He might find himself no match for the arguments of his opponent, but he could not force his heart to believe, and he was by no means a willing convert. My husband, however, remained with him, and before he left, the governor had been baptized into the church. Our new convert proved to be a most excellent and worthy man, notwithstanding his former infidelity, and he was subsequently a great aid to us in our mission.

We felt satisfied that the expenses of that journey had been well spent, although a few francs at that time could ill be spared. But our circumstances seemed to be getting worse and worse, and my health began to fail. For several months neither of us had had sufficient nourishment, and my anxieties increased my physical weakness. I was dispirited, yet I feared to complain or even to let my husband know what I felt. At length I was really ill and could not leave my bed.

I well remember the solemn silence that rained in our home one day. I had risen from my bed weak and oh so faint-hearted that I had scarcely any desire to live, and I was sitting with my little daughter in my arms. She had cried herself to sleep, cold and hungry, and, as much as I loved her, nay, idolized her, I confess that for an instant I harbored in my soul the impious and unnatural wish that rather than see my darling awake again to

cold and hunger, she might sleep her sweet young life away. For me to yield to such a thought, to wish my child to wake no more, I who would have gladly given the last drop of my lifeblood to save her, for me to look upon her innocent little face with such a thought, I can hardly now believe that such a thing was possible even for a moment. But I was desperate and bold and cowardly all at the same time, or my heart was humiliated by poverty and my faith was rousing

bitter thoughts in my mind. My husband was pacing the room. I knew too well all that was passing in his mind, although we had been long silent. At length I said to him, Take courage, dear, for we are the servants of the great God, and surely he will find a means of escape for us. We were sent here. We came because the Lord wanted us to come, and surely he will provide for us. He turned to me in reply and said kindly, We can at least have some water.

And he went for some water, and then, with as reverential feeling in his soul as ever inspired a grace before dinner, he blessed it, and we drank. We had scarcely done so when the mail courier brought a letter to our door. Governor Studeman, with a feeling of delicacy, had hesitated when my husband visited him at Lausanne to offer him any assistance, but he said in his letter that he had been impressed to do so, and hoped that we should

not be offended. As the letter was opened, a piece of gold fell upon the table. We could hardly believe that God had so soon answered our prayers and sent us relief, and our emotions of gratitude for this timely aid found expression in tears. All this time our landlady knew nothing of our distress. She was as ignorant of our situation as if she had never seen us. So long as I was able to walk about, I used at regular hours to go to the kitchen, get the cooking utensils,

and go through the routine of cooking as if we had had a well filled larder all the time. I set the table with punctilious care, and the good old widow never suspected but that we had plenty. Thus supposing that we wanted nothing, she and her children were more than ordinarily kind to us and to our little girl who was now old enough to toddle round and go from room to room. Very often they would get her into their room at meal time and give her little things to please her,

and while they felt honored in being permitted to do so, we were silently thankful for our child's sake, for her sufferings were more than we could endure. The temporary aid from LaSalle was very welcome to us, though it only served to make us feel more keenly our dependent position. I might relate stories, alas too true, of cold and want, of days and even almost an entire week passed at one time without food, stories which for painful detail would eclipse romance.

It was a weary waiting for providence. Such things are better forgotten, and yet I feel that in after years my temper was more subdued and my mind more patient under affliction than it would have been had I not experienced this preparatory discipline. People who have heard with a sneer of Mormon missionaries and their work would perhaps have realized that faith may be sincere, although mistaken, if they could have seen us at that time. The first teachers of a doctrine, whether it be

good or evil, if only it stems at the current opinions of the hour, have ever found that at the end of a rocky way there was waiting for them a crown of thorns. Many a time since then I have felt the weight of anxious care in providing for my family. The trial of our faith has not been light or seldom repeated, but those days of trouble in Switzerland were, I think, the darkest that I ever experienced. We realized literally the necessity of trusting to God's daily mercies for our daily bread

and the assurance that the Lord would provide was our only hope. To say that we practiced the strictest economy would be to give but a faint idea of the way in which we had to consider and contrive in order to exist at all. For years we kept the word of wisdom, a revelation of Joseph Smith, which enjoined abstinence from wine, coffee, tea, or in fact warm drinks of any kind, and trifling as such self-denial may at first appear, it was not really so when other

privations were added thereto. For months at a time we existed, for I dare not say lived, without what are considered even by the poorest the most common necessaries. I can even recall to mind one trying week in Switzerland when for the whole seven long days we had less than a pint of cornflower to live upon, and that was chiefly reserved for our poor child. As I look back to those dark, painful times, I feel that it was by little short of

a miracle that our lives were spared. Our faith alone saved us. End of chapter 7