Читать книгу The Great Experience - Julia Farr - Страница 6

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A child's love is as proportionately great as a woman's.

Two years later and Spring Conference had come to Salt Lake City.

When all the "Mormons" in Utah tried to get to their semi-annual conference, in their beloved city, it meant a sight for tourists indeed!

So thought young Dr. George Cadman, who was returning to New York, from a trip to California, and had stopped off at Salt Lake to see the sights and especially to get a glimpse of those peculiar people called "Mormons," about whom so much was said and written.

Dr. Cadman was a handsome man of twenty-four, medium in height, but strongly built. His fine regular features and deep-set gray eyes, made him the object of attraction to more than one as he stood on the corner of Main street, outside of the Hotel Utah, looking at the crowds, as they made their way to the great tabernacle.

"Strange!" he thought, "these people don't look wicked!" Then he walked over to the monument of Brigham Young, to read the inscription.

"Stranger here, brother?" asked a pleasant voice.

He turned to meet the pleasant gaze of an old, long-bearded man, attired in a plain black suit. On his arm hung his wife, presumably about his own age, wearing a black cloth dress.

"Yes, quite a stranger," returned Dr. Cadman courteously. "This statue, I believe is of the man who led the 'Mormons' through the 'Rockies?'"

The old man's eyes fired with enthusiasm.

"Yes, brother, yes! Brigham Young, the Prophet of the Lord! A grander man I never knew. He led us here—to our destruction, the world thought,—but it was to our peace and prosperity!"

George scanned the couple with interest. They didn't look very prosperous. Aloud he said, "So you're a 'Mormon,' are you? And one of the old pioneers?"

"Yes, brother, I knew Brigham Young in Nauvoo, when we were driven out across the plains, I knew that he was God's own man, and I followed him, with sure faith in my heart. If you like, sir, the meeting's just on, and you might walk down with us?"

"I will, thank you," returned Dr. Cadman pleasantly, and the three walked down to the Temple, the old man greatly pleased with the visitor, and "the visitor" greatly amused with the thought of walking down the street with "Mormons."

"There's nothing very bad about them," he decided to himself. "Just easily lead, and simple-minded."

When they reached the Temple gate, the old man turned to him kindly. "Sorry, but you'll have to throw that cigar away, brother. They don't allow smoking on the Temple grounds."

Cadman flushed, and looked at his freshly lit cigar doubtfully.

"Well, here goes!" he decided. "It's worth it to see a real 'Mormon' congregation."

As they entered the grounds, a group of about fifteen men, women, and children surrounded them.

"Where have you been?" exclaimed a chorus of voices, accosting the old couple, joyously. "We've been looking for you the city over. Hurry or we'll not get a front seat."

George found himself proudly introduced to the old couple's children and grand-children and then hurried off by the entire family to the tabernacle.

That night he wrote to a New York cousin, the following letter:

"My dear old pal:—Such a pleasant trip, all the way through! I've separated from the party, however, for the way they traveled, didn't suit me. They reminded me of a lot of bees, sipping the honey momentarily from each flower that they passed. On a trip like this, I like to study my own dear America. I decided to stop off a few days at the Indian reservation,—that settled it—since then I have been traveling alone.

"You know Mrs. Hester of the party? Exclaimed she, 'Those frightful Indians, Dr. Cadman! How can you care to look at those awful people a second time!'

"And now—those frightful 'Mormons' I find very interesting! I meant to spend one day here at Salt Lake City, but this first day has been so interesting I mean to spend more.

"I must tell you about my experience today.

"I was gazing at Brigham Young's monument, when I was accosted by a very plainly dressed old man, and his wife. After a little conversation, I went to their tabernacle with them, and on the way was introduced to their family,—big enough for five separate Eastern homes!

"But, Will, the tabernacle service was a great surprise to me. The singing, speaking, music were all uplifting. There's something wrong about those Anti-'Mormon' lecturers out home. These people are dead in earnest, and I'll wager they're sincere.

"If I were religiously inclined, I'd say, 'The spirit is more in this Church, than in the churches of the world,' but—as I'm not religious, as you know, I simply feel a great respect for these people and a reverence, a little foreign to my nature,—when in their tabernacle.

"I met a farmer from a little place called Ephraim. I told him how I would enjoy meeting some 'Mormon' ranchers and sheepherders, etc., and he immediately invited me to his home, and he said he'd show me around. What think you of that for western hospitality? Can you beat it? Inviting a stranger, whom he has not even heard of! Well, I'm off for Ephraim tonight with my new-found friend to study the 'Mormons!'

"By the way, I found out from my Ephraim friend that the old man I made friends with could easily buy me out. So much for appearances!

"Give my love to Alma, and tell little Harold that I'll bring him something that the Indians made.

"Good-bye old chap. I'll write from Ephraim, so if you don't hear from me, you'll know that they have stolen me for a 'Mormon' harem on account of my good looks!

[Right-justify] "Yours faithfully,

[Right-justify] "George Cadman."

*****

[Right-justify] "Ephraim, June 15, 1919.

"Dear Will:—Guess you're wondering? Well old chap, I've had some strange experiences.

"My Ephraim friend and his family (wife and eight children) have treated me royally. What I haven't seen, wouldn't be worth seeing. There's a little girl of twelve, that is the most captivating piece of femininity you can imagine. She's a bunch of happiness, merry to impertinence at times, but with all so religious. She is saving her pennies to go on a mission to convert such as you and I (so she frankly declares) to 'Mormonism.'

"I took such a fancy to the youngster, and she to me, that everywhere I went, she has been by my side.

"Two days ago, she and I went for a ride in her father's machine and some youngster ran us down. Some accident! and my little companion got all the bruises and cuts, while I escaped. She wants no doctor but myself, and as she must stay in bed a few days, I'm prolonging my visit until she is well. I'm sitting by her bed-side now.

"She just interrupted me by saying, 'I know by the way you look that you are writing about me. Be sure to tell my name—I might meet him on my mission.'

"'How do you spell your last name, Betty?' I asked, ready to obey.

"'E-m-m-i-t,' she said brightly,—then under the covers went her head, and I heard a giggle.

"'What's up now?' I asked.

"Two laughing brown eyes peeked out at me.

"'Put a D before it and it spells what?' she asked.

"'Demmit,' I replied quickly,—and then I wish you could have heard her laugh.

"The country here is beautiful, and the people so full of faith, it seems a different world to gay old New York. I think that if I stayed here long, I would get the fever and attend meetings like the rest of them.

"But all joking aside, it's refreshing to see real homes, real mothers, and merry children. I'll be sorry when I leave this 'Mountain country,' which will be in a few days,—so I'll see you all soon. Love to Alma and Harold.

[Right-justify] "Yours as ever,

[Right-justify] "George."

*****

"Well, little Betty, I guess you're almost well now, and I must end this long, pleasant vacation," said Dr. Cadman as they walked along one of Ephraim's country roads.

Betty looked up with troubled eyes.

"You don't mean you're going to leave us—yet?"

"Why girlie, I only intended to stay until you were well! What will all the sick people do in New York?" he asked playfully.

But Betty hung her head and walked on in silence.

Dr. Cadman loved children and he had learned to love this little "Mormon" girl. He saw her disappointment, and was sorry.

"Now Betty, dear," he said, taking her hand tenderly, "We're awfully good friends, aren't we? You know, Uncle Sam has a post-office, and you'll write letters to me and I'll answer everyone,—until we meet again."

"Oh, will you?" eagerly asked Betty, looking up with one of her sudden sunny smiles, "It won't be quite so bad then."

"And then in a few years," continued Dr. Cadman happily, "there will be a fine young Ephraim lady coming on a mission to New York, and Dr. Cadman will have to introduce her to some well-known people to convert!"

Betty clapped her hands—a way she had of expressing great joy.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed, "and you'll have your minister all ready for me to preach 'Mormonism' in his church?"

"Not so fast, girlie! Not so fast! Ministers are rather queer when 'Mormonism' is mentioned."

A cloud chased Betty's smile away and her brow thoughtfully puckered.

"I wonder why?" she said slowly, "and you, Brother Cadman, why are you not a 'Mormon?'"

Dr. Cadman hesitated, then said kindly, "Probably for the same reason that you are one."

"I don't understand," said Betty.

"You were born a 'Mormon,'" explained Dr. Cadman, "I was born a Presbyterian."

"I am not a 'Mormon' because I was born one!" said Betty decidedly. "If I did not know that my religion was the true one, I would search until I found the truth."

Dr. Cadman smiled down on her.

"Wise little head! Suppose I should tell you that my church was the true church?"