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CHAPTER II.

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No great truth was ever born into the world, without the throes of suffering of those who bore it.

Mrs. Emmit's invitations to four of the pioneers of Ephraim were gladly accepted, and all expressed themselves as delighted to meet the Eastern lady, who was going to make every careless "Latter-day Saint" reflect on the "Word of Wisdom."

The large, homey sitting-room was bright with the rays of the setting sun, sinking over the mountains in its golden glory, and casting its stray beams in at the bay-window, with a cheeriness that made the simple room look beautiful. It was eight o'clock.

One by one the guests arrived, each bringing a handful of roses.

"June roses! How perfectly exquisite!" exclaimed Mrs. Catt, graciously accepting the flowers, while Betty ran for vases. Soon they were all prettily arranged on the center table, filling the room with a rich fragrance.

"Surely, life in Ephraim is worth while," declared Mrs. Catt, again smiling on the happy, old faces surrounding her. "All flowers and sunshine!"

When Betty had finished fixing the flowers, she sat on a cushion by her wonderful guest and affectionately leaned her head on Mrs. Catt's knee.

Her little face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes looked larger than ever.

"Ephraim's going ter show off now, and she's just the kind ter 'preciate!" she thought joyfully. How the child did love her own home town!

"Yes, it's all roses and sunshine now ma'am, but times there was when it wasn't jes' like this," remarked one old lady, shaking her head thoughtfully.

"That's true, Sister Anne," spoke up old Brother Jacobson. "We've known the time, when only thorns grew!"

"Now, that is just what I want you to tell me about. I'm just longing to hear about those by-gone days—why you came here, and what you found.—Do, someone, begin, please!" urged Mrs. Catt, sweetly.

One thin, erect, old lady, with a quick, bright eye, turned to Mrs. Catt with a smile.

"Sister Anne and Brother Jacobson may have suffered from the thorns, but I can't say that I did. What did I come for? For the faith, of course, as we all did. I walked eight hundred miles, pushing a cart, and I tell you, ma'am, every mile was too short for the faith! And when I got here? Every burden was too light to bear for the sake of the glorious truth, and the Lord has blessed me with children, and grand-children, and health, but I'd been glad to go on suffering for the glory of the gospel!"

There was a silence after this burst of enthusiasm, and Mrs. Catt eyed the woman as if studying some strange species.

"And your faith carried you through everything, joyously?" she asked, credulously.

"Yes, the Lord upheld me always."

"Did you bring up a large family?" asked the Easterner curiously.

"Yes, thirteen children. My husband has gone ahead of me awhile, but I'm glad to stay as long as God wills. With such a big, happy family, one couldn't be lonesome, you know."

"No, I suppose not," returned Mrs. Catt, sweetly. "You women have led wonderful lives. Now, who's going to begin to tell me how they happened to come to Zion?"

There was a pause, as one looked at the other, smiling.

"You don't mind talking about it, do you?" she asked pleasantly.

Mrs. Emmit answered for them.

"Gracious, no! They just love to talk about it to those who are really interested in the gospel; don't you?"

All smiled assent.

"Suppose you begin, Brother Madson," suggested Mrs. Emmit.

"Very well," replied a stout, florid-faced, old gentleman, genially. "It's rather a long story, but very interesting."

The elder people settled more comfortably in their seats, and the children leaned forward eagerly.

"My mind wanders back to my happy boyhood days in Norway," he began. "We lived out of town on a comfortable estate, as my father was well-to-do, and we had everything we could desire. There were four of us children,—three girls, and myself. My mother was a dear tender-hearted woman, living solely for her husband and children, and always shielding us from the sterner character of my father, who was a strict Lutheran.

"When I became eighteen, much to my mother's distress, my father had me sent to the town alone, to take the position of jailer in the county prison,

"'It'll make a man of him—he's been cuddled too much—' he explained to my mother. 'If he succeeds in doing his duty, I'll have him home in a year or two and give him something worth while.'

"So off to town I went and became a jailer.

"After being there for a time, I had turned over to my care two young men. They were thrown into prison and condemned to die. Their appearance attracted me.

"'For what are they condemned?' I asked the warden.

"'They are "Mormons," answered the warden.

"'And what are "Mormons?" I asked.

"'Preachers of some newfangled religion from America, that doesn't take here,' he explained.

"Preachers condemned to die! I thought this both strange and interesting.

"So, from curiosity, I looked in upon the jailbirds, to see how they were acting. There they were on their knees, praying hard, not for deliverance, but that the Lord would forgive those who had condemned them. On seeing me, they calmly arose from their knees and asked when they were condemned to die.

"'Tomorrow,' I reluctantly replied.

"'Then we must lose no time in giving you our great message,' the elder one said, his eyes shining with a great faith, 'You will listen?'

"'Yes,' I answered simply.

"Then these two young missionaries lay before me the restored Gospel as I have never heard it preached since. Realizing they were near death, their souls burned with the desire to save one more soul.

"It was wonderful! Their words thrilled my whole being, and their truths appealed to me.—At once I was converted. I couldn't help myself. God seemed very near in that prison cell, and I felt His Spirit urging me to accept the Gospel.

"I told them this and we all knelt down and prayed.

"Then I left them and hurried to the warden.

"'What's the matter now?' he asked tersely.

"'Matter enough!' I returned earnestly, 'Do you know we have two of God's own men condemned to die to morrow?'

"'Been talking to them, eh? They seemed a good sort to me.—But that's none of our business.'

"'Do you call yourself a Christian, Axel, and say that it's none of our business whether or not these two good young men are murdered, under our very eyes?'

"'What are you going to do about it? The priest's word is law here. And how do you know anyway, that they're not a menace to the church? Mon, you're too easily influenced.'

"'Come talk to them yourself. They're anxious to see you,' I returned.

"And so after some persuasion, I led the warden to the cell. We approached cautiously and unobserved.

"They were both kneeling in silent prayer, their faces upturned with a rapt expression of those oblivious to all earthly things and interests.

"The warden's expression, at first curious, turned to one of sympathy. 'Damn!' he muttered.

"The young men started, opened their eyes and on seeing us, arose from their knees.

"'Sorry to disturb you gentlemen. I'm damn sorry for you for I see you're the good sort. What made you such fools as to oppose the priest? Law's tight here.'

"The young missionaries smiled calmly.

"'Do not pity us, friend; we are honored to die for Christ. I wish that you could feel that.'

"For two hours the young preachers talked and the warden, at first skeptical, finally grew more interested until what seemed a miracle happened.

"This experienced man of the world, this crusty warden took both young men by the hand and exclaimed, 'Boys, you've got the truth; I never thought to find it on the earth, but it's here with you. I'll go to the priest the first thing tonight and plead your case. Let's pray the Lord to melt his heart and influence the authorities to free you.'

"And so we all knelt down within the death-cell and the younger missionary prayed that they might escape death if it was the Lord's will that they should save more souls.

"After we left the cell, I begged the warden to let me go to the priest.

"'Nonsense Mon, you couldn't do a thing with him. You'd blubber out that you were converted and land in jail yourself. I'll handle him better and scare him a bit as to consequences. The lads have some good friends here.'

"And so the warden left and I went back to my charges.

"The anxiety of the next two hours, I shall never forget. The young missionaries were calm and undisturbed, but while I listened to the truths they were telling me, my heart was anxiously waiting the return of the warden.

"At last he came.

"'Good news?' I cried anxiously.

"'Yes,' answered the warden, smiling on us all. 'I got him, but we'll have to rid the country of you tomorrow—cross the border you must, or surely die.'

"'Thank God!' I exclaimed. 'And we—we must be baptized before they go!'

"'You're running quick, Mon,' said the warden, 'What's the hurry?'

"'We might never have the chance again, as the missoinaries are leaving. You will baptize me?' I asked them.

"'Yes, indeed,—We will do all we can for you before we leave,' they answered happily.

"That evening we were baptized. I shall never forget the glorious moon shining on the waters,—the clear frosty air that invigorated our bodies, and yet did not chill.

"When we returned to the jail, we spent an hour in prayer and never did I feel the Lord's Spirit, as I did within those prison walls that night.

"The next day before dawn, I took our prisoners out of town and saw them safely across the border.

"'I wish that you could go back to America with us,' they said anxiously.

"'Oh, don't worry about me,' I replied joyously, I'll have to keep the faith a secret here, but I'm going home at Christmas-time, and when I tell them all, they'll rejoice and accept the Gospel, too. Then, I will not fear, for father's an influential man.'

"'God grant that it may be so,' returned the missionaries, 'and the warden?'

"'He, too, has a large family to convert.'

"So we bade one another 'good-bye,' and I returned to the jail.

"It wanted only three months to Christmas, and the time passed quickly and happily.

"When the holidays came, I bade good-bye to the warden.

"Axel, don't lose the faith, it'll be hard to stand alone.'

"'You're not coming back?' asked the warden in surprise.

"'I hardly expect to,' I replied. 'You know, Axel, father can afford it, and I'm going to ask him to let me go to America, and when I've learned more of the Gospel, I'll come back on a mission.'

"'Man proposes, and God disposes, Mon,' replied the warden sadly.

"'Ah! but you don't know how religious my father is!' I explained with confidence.

"'And as narrow as the rest of them, no doubt,' returned the warden shortly. 'Well, old boy,' he added, grasping my hand warmly, 'I wish you luck and if prayers help, you can count on mine!'

"And so we parted.

"Christmas-time in Norway is a time of great feasting, hospitality, and good-will toward all.

"How light was my heart as I entered the old home and received the warm welcome of my parents and sisters!

"'We've certainly missed you, Mon,' they all agreed. 'But now we'll have such a splendid Yule-tide to make up for it.'

"'Splendid Yule-tide,—yes!' I thought exultingly, 'They little know what a wonderful gift I am bringing home to them all.'

"The first evening that we were gathered together, I told them of the great change that had come into my life. I began the story at the beginning, and soon got them interested. But when my father asked me, 'Were the missoinaries "Lutheran" and how did it happen that they were arrested?' I answered, 'No, they were "Mormons" from America, preaching the restored Gospel.

"Then the storm came. My poor father exclaimed horrified,

"'You don't mean that you saved two Mormons to do more of Satan's work?'

"'They do the Lord's work, father,' I returned quietly.

"'You have not listened to their wicked preaching, have you?' asked my father angrily, rising from his chair, while my mother and sisters looked on in dismay.

"'Yes, father, I have become a 'Mormon.' God knows, I am a better man.'

"At this he became enraged to madness. 'My son a "Mormon!" he exclaimed fiercely. 'Never! I command you to drop this evil and come to your senses. 'Mormons!' they are the scum of the earth, coming here to contaminate decent people in this country.'

"For a moment there was silence and my mother came to me and put her arms around my neck, beseechingly looking into my eyes with a mother's fear.

"'O Mon,' she said trembling, 'obey your father, boy! give up these evil companions, do, Mon!'

"'But, mother dear, if you would only let me explain I'll show you all that they are not evil.'

"Angrily, my father separated us. 'Do you dare, Mon, to make your father out a liar?'

"I stood stupefied, hardly knowing how to take his unlooked for passion.

"'No, father,' I at last ventured, 'but you don't understand.'

"'Then I'm a fool! to be taught by a fanatical youngster of eighteen!' he returned hotly. 'Again, will you drop this thing, or not?'

"I felt a great strength surge up in me, and I stood erect.

"'Father, it grieves me to wound you, but Christ suffered, and if needs be I must also. I have taken this step for life. I cannot retrace.'

"'Then leave this house; you're no son of mine!' came the words, distinctly clear, as my father threw open the door wide, and pointed the way out.

"The wind rushed in bringing the large hail-stones from the storm without.

"'In the storm, father, this dark night?' I asked incredulously.

"'I've said it!' was his short answer.

"My mother made to intercede for me, but he pushed her back, and stood between us.

"'Better no son at all, than one to disgrace us!' he declared, sternly. I looked out into the blackness of night, then at the cheerful fire, lighting up the room in genial comfort.

"Satan whispered, 'Don't be a fool. Your father's religion is good enough for you. You're a stranger to the new religion. You'll do more good and sacrifice less by staying with the old.'

"But the angel of the Lord led me out,—out into the darkness, penniless, alone, with the cries of my mother ringing in my ears.

"A few steps and I turned. Surely I must kiss my good mother farewell. The door was still open and my father was an angry sentinel watching my going.

"'Well?' he asked, sternly.

"'May I bid farewell to my mother?'

"'No! your mother is too good for such as you. Begone!'

"And with the last harsh word, he lifted an axe from the wall and hurled it after me.

"Then the door shut, and I found myself writhing with pain upon the wet ground.

"The axe had penetrated into my leg. I tried, but could not remove the cruel torment.

"I prayed hard and received strength to stand and then, soon, I was able to drag myself the three weary miles to the prison.

"By this time, my high boot was filled with blood, and the warden received me fainting in his arms.

"When I came to, the warden was binding up my wound, and cursing under his breath.

"'Don't curse. Axel,' I said feebly.

"'That's not your sin. It's mine. How do you feel now?' he asked with rough kindness.

"'Rather weak,' I replied.

"'Reckon so,' he said shortly. 'Had a row with your very religious father?'

"'Yes,' I answered simply, ignoring his sarcasm.

"'I expected it,' he returned. 'Now you rest here 'till you're strong and I'll see you across the border. It won't be long before everyone knows that you are a 'Mormon.' News travels quickly and they'll hound you as they did the others. I'll hide you here 'til you're stronger.'

"'And you?' I asked anxiously.

"'Will meet you in America, some day! Sleep now. The sooner you're out of here, the better for you!'

"So in a few days I was across the border, with my purse filled by the faithful warden.

"I will not relate to you my numerous experiences and difficulties on my way to Utah. The good sister has just told you how eight hundred miles seemed too short to walk for the faith, and I walked one thousand miles and found them too short for the faith too.

"I arrived in Zion fatigued, but happy. There was work for me here and oh! the glorious freedom of the Gospel and the love of the brethren!

"I soon took a wife,—a good sweet woman, who is waiting for me yonder. Ten years of hard work and real happiness followed. Four children were born to us and our home was one of the best in Utah.

"Then the Church called me on a mission to Norway.

"My heart beat fast at the very thought.

"To Norway! my old home!

"True! my folks had never answered my letters, but if I went there personally, it would soften their hearts and surely the Lord would open up the way for me to give them the Gospel!

"It was nearing Christmas. I would approach my old home at Yule-tide again, in the time of homecoming and good cheer!

"Tenderly I bid my family good-bye, and with a thankful heart started on my journey.

"On reaching Norway, I told the mission headquarters my story, and they said that I might go to my home for Yule-tide.

"It was the day before Christmas when I reached the old prison, where I asked for the Warden.

"'Oh, he's left the country—is in England, I believe. He joined those dastard "Mormons" and kept it dark. But we found him out. However, he escaped, and last I heard of him, he was in England, making the devil of a time there, preaching his doctrines.'

"'So the prejudice is just the same,' I thought sadly, as I footed it to my home.

"My heart grew heavy as I thought of the last time I had struggled along that road in the dark stormy night; then I pushed the thought from me and dwelt on the future. Now that I had returned, prosperous and happy, I could persuade them.

"I was changed from youth to manhood,—they would see what the Gospel had done for me.

"At last the home was reached. I entered the gate. As I walked through the garden, which was lightly frosted with snow, I looked from right to left, upon the unchanged scenes. Years seemed like days, and it seemed as though I were a boy again, returning from school for the happy Yule-tide greetings. My heart with a bound forgave the last ten years, and I longed to grasp my father's hand and tell him so. And my dear mother? She must be aged now, but still the same sweet, tender heart!

"With trembling hands I knocked on the door, that had been closed to me, all these years.

"My eldest sister opened it. Two little girls clung to her skirts. She looked many years older, and lines of care furrowed her face.

"She didn't know me.

"'Well, sir?' she asked quietly.

"'Is Mr. or Mrs. Madson at home?' I asked controlling myself with effort.

"'Both dead, sir,' she answered shortly.

"'Dead!' I exclaimed aghast.

"'Yes, sir?' she answered sadly. 'The plague, two years ago, took my father and my two sisters. Sad times here then.'

"'And the mother?' I asked trembling.

"'O, she, poor thing, died nine years ago. She doted on her only son, who joined the wicked "Mormons," and it broke her heart. She just wilted like a flower and died.'

"I grasped the railing of the porch for support.

"'You're pale, sir!' she exclaimed in sudden pity. 'Did you know them? Who are you?'

"'Don't you know me?' I cried in agony of spirit. I'm your brother—Mon!'

"For a moment she looked at me in dismayed astonishment, then her face contracted in anger. She lifted her arm, and pointed to the gate.

"'How dare you enter here! You killed your mother, broke your father's heart! Have you come back to torment me?'

"'I have come to help you,' I answered brokenly. 'To help all—but only you are left. Oh, listen to what I have to tell you—in our mother's name, listen!' I pleaded.

"'Never!' she answered hoarsely. 'I hate the very sight of you. Go, I say, or I'll have you sent!'

"I turned and fairly staggered down the old familiar path to the gate.

"There I turned, but she stood angry and unrelenting.

"So this was my home-coming! I hardly know how I made my way back to mission headquarters. When I reached there, for a time, I was completely overcome by this heart-rending experience.

"But the prayers of the Saints, lifted me out of myself, and I fulfilled my mission, with some happy results.

"When I reached home in Utah, I told my wife about my sad home in Norway.

"'Mon,' she said with her eyes glowing with faith, 'We will pray every night that the Lord will save your sister for the Gospel.'

"So every night at family prayers, my sister and her family were remembered.

"Years passed. My eldest boy, Mon, was twenty years old. The Church called him on a mission to Norway.

"'Father,' he said to me, earnestly, 'I'll pray God to let me bring your sister back to America.'

"'May the Lord so will it!' I answered fervently, with a sudden longing for my own kinsfolk.

"When my son arrived in Norway, he went immediately to the old home. It was sold and my sister departed, none knew where.

"This news was a great disappointment, but my son wrote hopefully.

"'God can overcome anything, father. Have faith and pray. I'll find her yet.'

"One month later came another letter from Norway.

"'Dear father:—I have found your sister,—in fact, I am now boarding at her boarding-house. Her husband died, leaving her almost penniless, after squandering away the estate.

"'She doesn't know that I am her nephew.

"'When she and two daughters—young ladies now—were in great trouble, some "Mormons" crossed her path, and with the usual kindness, helped her through sickness and trial. She is almost converted to the faith. When she knew that I was a "Mormon," she rejoiced, and every chance we have, we are together, talking of the Gospel. Surely God led me right to her house, in answer to our prayers.

"'Last night she told me that she had a great weight on her heart—she did not believe that she was worthy to be baptized.

"'I asked her to confide in me.

"'She then told me with tears in her eyes, how she had treated her brother.

"'Will you write to your folks," she asked humbly, "and ask them to try to find him? I must ask his forgiveness, before I think of being baptized."

"'So dear father, write to her as soon as you can to console her broken heart and give her hope.'

"I'll never forget that letter and the joy we all felt.

"I was blest with wealth and a happy home, and my good wife said: 'Mon, your sister must come to Zion! She and her daughters shall be happy near her brother.'

"So I wrote, and enclosed money for my sister and her children to come to Zion.

"My son baptized them, and then they came to Zion. O, what a joyful re-union was ours! My dear sister you all knew, humble and sweet to her death. The two daughters have happy homes, not far from here, and are bringing up their children in the faith! How great and good the Lord is!"

As brother Madson stopped speaking, everyone sat thoughtfully silent.

"And the Warden?" asked Betty in subdued excitement.

"Is right here," said Brother Jacobson, smiling. "I'm the Warden, and thank God for being able to spend my last days near the jailor!"

Mrs. Catt broke the silence.

"That story is certainly interesting enough to print," she said pleasantly.

"Who next will give us pleasure?" she asked turning to Sister Anne. "You?"

Sister Anne smilingly assented.

"I was only eight years old when I left England, but I shall never forget it. My dear mother and father accepted the Gospel almost directly that it was preached to them.

"This horrified and enraged my mother's parents, who believed that my father was the one to blame and that he had unusual Satanic influence over my mother. So they decided to kill him. In the dead of night they came to our home and I was awakened by me shrieks of my mother, who was trying with her delicate strength to hold the door from the invaders without. With a crush, they broke in at the windows, but mother had kept them out long enough for father to hide in one of the large copper kettles. Enraged they looked for him in vain, leaving the house with threatenings for the future.

"My parents realized that they must emigrate to Utah—there was no peace at home. So with their five children, and I the eldest, they set sail for America.

"We were many weeks on the water. When we reached the Mississippi, mother was exhausted, for the food had been very bad and the trip rough. As we neared St. Louis, cholera broke out on board our boat, and mother immediately fell a victim. The quarantine officers ordered us all on deck, and the word went around that cholera victims would be taken off separately.

"I shall never forget my father's grief. Mother was almost gone, and to be separated would be awful.

"With her usual grit, mother braced up, and with father's help, managed to crawl to the deck. There she sat by father, and when the quarantine officer came around she pretended to be eating her soup with relish. This deceived him and he passed her by. The next day my mother died, leaving five children, one a little baby. Never will I forget our burying mother in St. Louis. Father was grief stricken, but his wonderful faith held him up and he told me to be 'little mother.' We purchased a wagon and team and started on our long journey across the plains. After many days of hardships, we reached Utah, and there my father worked long hard days and raised his little flock, with only me to help him. So you see my parents sacrificed all for the faith, so is it not natural I prize it above other things?"

"And the Indians, did they ever get the baby?" asked Betty excitedly.

"No, dear, but nearly, several times. It was their pet revenge to steal babies, and we had to guard them closely."

Just then a knock at the door made them turn.

To Mrs. Emmit's cheery "come in," a woman of eighty entered.

"Why sister Heller, you're just in time for some ice-cream," said Mrs. Emmit delightedly. "Mrs. Catt, I want to introduce to you another member of our Ephraim family."

Mrs. Catt smiled at the dark, swarthy old woman who had entered. Surely she was an Indian.

Sister Heller smiled in return, but her small sharp eyes seemed to pierce the visitor with an unnecessary stare.

"We're very fond of her," spoke up Mrs. Emmit, "she was treated roughly by her own people as they passed. She was so old that she couldn't keep up with the tribe, so they didn't want her. We took her and she has been one of us ever since."

The old Indian smilingly nodded and then uncovered a basket of home-made cookies.

"I brought them over for your party," she said simply.

"And so the little party ate ice-cream and cake and chattered until late.

Betty took the Indian woman aside before leaving.

"Isn't the 'New-Yorker' jest wonderful?" she asked delighted.

The old woman looked down at the child's eager face without a smile.

"Betty, I don't like her. Have a care. The Indian knows friend or foe."

Betty's face flushed with righteous indignation.

"For shame, you're not an Indian now—you're a Christian, but you don't talk like one!"

She patted Betty's head lovingly. "You see, Dearie, you see!"

The Great Experience

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