ACCIDENTS TO BRIANT—HE IS ORDAINED TO THE PRIESTHOOD—PATIENT ENDURANCE OF HIS SUFFERINGS—HE IS BLESSED TO BE AN ELDER AND THEN SLUMBERS IN DEATH.

In October last, 1886, with a number of companions Briant was playing on a trapeze at the house of a friend, when he fell and broke his right arm. After the accident, Briant did not hurry to his home, which was only a block away; but an hour later his father found him at the doctor's office, where the arm had been set. Briant was perfectly composed; and, instead of crying as most boys do when a new sympathiser comes, he gave his first thought to his mother, who had been quite ill and had not yet entirely recovered. He said to his father:

"I hope mamma does not know of this. If not, then we will keep it from her; because she would worry a great deal, and the anxiety might make her worse."

When they went home Briant bounded into the house with a smile on his lips, and in reply to his mother's anxious questions he said:

"Nothing serious, mamma. I have strained my arm; but it will be well in a few days."

He kissed her and then ran laughing from the room, although at the time he must have been suffering excruciating pain. Some time elapsed before his mother knew the truth; and then she did not learn it from Briant.

He had recovered from the outward appearance of his injury to his arm, but it was not yet strong, when he met with another and more serious accident. With two of his companions he was jumping from a low roof, when his foot caught and he fell headlong to the ground. The weak arm received the weight of the shock; the old break was re-opened and the bones were split in a new place, and one of them protruded from a bleeding wound in the wrist. He had fallen upon a heap of sand, and when he rose to his feet he found that in the gash made by the broken bone the sand and dirt had penetrated. He sat down and wiped his wrist and the bone clean, put back the bone inside the flesh of his arm, and then started for the doctor's office. As in the other instance, his home was only a block away, but he did not wish to alarm his folks. Failing to find the doctor he went to a drug store, and, explaining his injury, asked that the physician be sent for. An hour later Brother Stevens found Briant sitting, pale but complacent, in the doctor's office, awaiting treatment. The necessary operation was long and painful, and at its close Briant was very weak. He whispered to his father:

"I am all right, papa, and will soon be well; but I hope that we can get home quickly, because I want you to administer to me."

This second serious accident occurred on the 18th of January, 1887; a week later—on the 25th day of the month—lock-jaw set in, and his suffering became intense.

Brother Stevens went on the day following to ask the assistance of Elders George W. Larkin and Moroni Poulter in watching with Briant; and these two brethren remained alternately at the child's bedside, day and night, until he closed his eyes in death. On the morning of the 26th of January, before the visit of Brother Stevens, Elder Larkin said to his family:

"I had a strange and sad dream about little Briant Stevens last night. I wonder if the boy is sick."

Half an hour later Brother Stevens called with the sorrowful message; but Elder Larkin, though amazed at the coincidence, would not relate the nature of his dream, for fear of rending the father's heart. But the dream was later fulfilled to the letter, and was then fully stated.

Bishop Stratford had selected Briant, a few weeks before the second accident, as a proper subject for ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood; but the ordinance had not yet been attended to. And while Briant was prostrated, he was comforted by receiving this blessing under the direction of the proper authorities. At the same time he remembered his promise to his young convert and companion, and he so impressed his anxiety upon his father's mind that—on the very day of Briant's funeral—Brother Stevens visited the other little chap and made an arrangement for his ordination.

When the more serious affliction of lock-jaw came upon Briant, he expressed but one regret: he feared that his misfortunes were bringing trouble and annoyance upon his parents and friends. Beyond this source of anxiety, all was peace with him. He never expressed the slightest fear for himself. He was always, according to his hopeful words, in a state of improvement: never needing anything except the blessing of God; never enduring much pain; but quite content if the Elders were present to administer to him and to talk with him about the things of God.

One day he called his father and mother to his bedside and said to them:

"I am not afraid to die; for there is nothing in death of which I have any dread. Only I want to take part in the building of the temple to God in Jackson County."

On another occasion he said to the Elders who were watching with him:

"I shall get better soon, and then I shall be able to repay you for your great kindness. I want to see the coming of our Lord Jesus; I want to go back to Jackson County to help to build the temple there for Him. And I know that I will aid in this work."

One of the brethren was moved upon by the Spirit of God to administer to Briant and to promise that this hope should be fulfilled; that the boy should see the coming of Christ and be with the Saints in Jackson County when they should build the temple.

Night after night the Elders came and watched with Briant, blessing him and ministering to his wants. They esteemed it not a task, but a pleasure; because, as they all stated, they never before felt such a constant power and influence of the Spirit as they encountered at this boy's bedside. So peaceful and joyous was the manifestation to them that everyone felt that no death was in the house.

But the night before Briant died one of the Elders who had attended at the bedside, fell asleep while thinking about the sick child. He dreamed that himself and three of his companion Elders, who had also waited on Briant, went upon a journey into a distant and beautiful country. They seemed to have some definite object in view, but during their travel this object was not present to their minds.

When they reached the fair land of their destination, they saw a superb building, which they at once divined to be a temple of the living God. It was not yet completed; but it had assumed such proportions as to show the utmost grandeur. It was constructed of white, shining stone, seemingly as hard as granite. Many workmen appeared to be engaged in the building; and one of them, clothed in a white robe, with his head and hands and feet bare, stood upon the ground near the entrance to the structure.

In the white outer wall, at one side of the mighty arched doorway, and at the height of a man's head, a monogram seemed to be newly set into the stone. It was composed of three letters; the top one being B, clearly distinguishable; and the other two being fainter. At once the sojourners knew that this was what they had come after. The Elder who dreamed, thought that he reached forward and attempted to take it from its place. But the white robed workman stayed his hand, saying:

"You cannot take it. It has been set here by order of the Master, as an ornament to this temple."

The Elders then walked around the building, and entered the interior through a magnificent portal, and saw that much workmanship of fine patterns was being used in the adornment of the structure. They walked out and once more essayed to pluck the monogram from its place in the glittering wall. But again the voice of the guardian workman stayed their hands. For the second time they walked around the temple, entered through the archway and gazed at the magnificent interior. Then they said:

"Let us try once more."

The third time the Elder stretched out his hand to take the monogram; but, as on the other occasions, he was told to desist. The workman had spoken to him each time in perfect kindness, but in a decided tone. On this final effort a voice sounding like a trumpet descended from the top of the building, saying:

"Brother [calling him by name], you must go back; your wish cannot be granted."

Then they withdrew. Soon the Elder awoke, and he felt certain that the prayers which had been offered concerning Briant Stevens—though they had reached the throne of the Eternal Father—were powerless to change the decree which had been made in heaven concerning the boy, and that Briant must speedily pass from earth.

The next day this Elder was sitting in Fast meeting, when the dream recurred to his mind; and instantly he felt that Briant should be ordained to the Melchisedec Priesthood before his death. The Elder would have gone to the house, but a sudden impression came to him that he need have no anxiety, for the matter was already receiving attention.

On the morning of the 3rd of February, which was Fast-day, Brother Stevens was prompted to ordain Briant to the Melchisedec Priesthood; but he endeavored to banish the thought from his mind. It constantly recurred to him, each time growing more imperative. He was not alone in this feeling, for several Elders who had watched with Briant felt the same influence at the same time, although they were not all present. But one of them, who was sitting at the bedside, said:

"Brother Stevens, I have felt for several hours that I ought to speak to you about ordaining Briant to be an Elder in the Church. I think that you ought to do this at once."

Brother Stevens admitted that the same feeling had been in his mind; but that he had hesitated, for fear that such a course might seem like giving up a hope of Briant's recovery. But after such admonitions he could no longer neglect the warning, and he sent for the Bishop. The messenger, on his way to the Bishop's place, met President Shurtliff and spoke to him of Briant; and the President seemed to have entertained the same thought, for he said that he was led to believe that Briant should receive the Melchisedec Priesthood.

When this holy ordination was conferred upon him, Briant became serene, though he had been in great pain for some time preceding, and he sank at once into an easy slumber.

He woke not in this world. In an hour his breathing ceased and his spirit left the tortured clay to undergo the transition of nature, while the noble life went to another realm to perform its destined mission.

Elder George Larkin was in the room when Briant died; and to him was entrusted the sad duty of preparing the wasted body for its burial. When his solemn task was completed he burst into tears and said to Brother Stevens:

"Now my dream is fulfilled. The night before you called for me, a vision came in my slumber. I saw Briant lying dead in this room, and mine was the dread duty to wash and dress his deserted tabernacle and place it in the coffin. And so it has come to pass, exactly according to my dream."

A "HELPFUL VISION" TO BRIANT'S STRICKEN FATHER—THE COMFORTER BRINGS THE PEACE WHICH PASSES ALL UNDERSTANDING—THE FUNERAL OF THE LITTLE MISSIONARY—HIS WORK LIVES AFTER HIM.

There was but one thought produced in the minds of all who knew of the last scene at this good little Briant's bedside: it was that in all the spasms and torture of his dread disease he had been kept alive to receive the power of this ordination; and as soon as the administration was effected, the purpose of his mortal life was fulfilled, and he passed from a peaceful slumber on earth into a glorious waking beyond.

The night after Briant died, Brother and Sister Stevens were crushed with woe. They were not entirely disconsolate; they did not mourn as those who have no hope, and yet they seemed unable to reconcile themselves to the loss of their pride and joy. Brother Stevens himself said to a friend at this hour:

"I know that Briant is at peace. I know that he is a treasure and a joy to his God wherever he is; and I do not repine at the decree which has taken him away, after so many years of blessing in his society; but when I remember that in every nook about our home there is some evidence of his handiwork; when I think of all the comfort he has been—I cannot hold back this feeling of agony."

That night Brother Stevens prayed that the Lord would give consolation; and make manifest something of His glory to banish the overwhelming sorrow which was in that stricken home. When Brother Stevens fell asleep he dreamed; and it became a dream within a dream:

He thought that he went to bed and dreamed that Briant was dead. The friends and relatives who flocked around were moaning in anguish and asking in agonized tones what they could do to bring little Briant back to life. The father retired to a room and fell upon his knees, and asked the Lord what should be done in the matter; and the voice of the Spirit came to him, saying:

"COVER BRIANT'S BODY WITH CLAY; AND THEN PATIENTLY AWAIT MY PURPOSE. IF YOU WILL OBEY THIS COMMAND, I WILL SHOW YOU THE GLORY NOW POSSESSED BY BRIANT."

While he still knelt this command was repeated; and he rose to his feet. Entering the room where the little white-robed figure lay, he said to the weeping attendants:

"I know now what I shall do. You need worry no more; because God has told me, and I will fulfill His design."

The father lifted the body in his arms from the bed whereon it lay in dread repose, and laid it upon the floor. He took clay and with his hands covered the marble form deeply, until there was visible no semblance of the body. And then he sat down to await God's purpose. A long time and patiently he seemed to sit; and at length he saw a light and in this light was little Briant, standing in the air, robed in snowy whiteness, with a face transfigured in its light and beauty. The boy smiled at him and moved his hands as if in loving recognition. This ethereal form of Briant moved about in the room without effort. A single inclination of the shining head seemed to project the body in any desired direction.

While the father watched and marvelled and felt great joy, he dreamed that he awoke from his dream and found his little Briant still convulsed and tortured by the power of the Destroyer.

And then he seemed to weep in agony because of his boy's suffering; for now instead of a familiar face yet transfigured in lovely happiness, he saw a countenance strange and distorted by pain. He wished and prayed that Briant's torture might cease, and that the boy might be translated to heavenly radiance.

But soon in reality the father awoke, and sensed that Briant was surely dead. And back came to his soul the feeling of patient hope and unrepining trust which had seemed to pervade the inner dream. He sincerely and submissively praised God's holy name. He told his wife what he had seen in this vision of the night, and together they took comfort; and through all the tribulation and loneliness which have followed the loss of their eldest boy, they have felt a comfort and sustaining power which nothing on earth can give, and nothing on earth can take away. They know that, having covered Briant's body with clay, they have now but to patiently await God's purpose, and He will sometime restore to them the glorified, the redeemed, the happy child.

The funeral of this little Elder of the Church was held in the Ward Meeting House in Ogden on Sunday, February 6th, 1887, and was attended by some hundreds of people, ten of Briant's young companions acting as pall bearers.

It was the remark of the majority of those who were present that the Spirit of God seemed to fill the meeting-house and make its abiding-place in every heart. Among the speakers were the Elders who had attended Briant in his final act of suffering. They paid a glorious tribute to his patience and to his integrity. All felt that it was in fulfillment of God's own purpose that Briant had been called from earth; and that the agony which he had endured was but the doorway through which he entered into the Eternal Presence. The Elder who had promised in a holy administration to Briant that the child should have his hope fulfilled and engage in the building of the temple with the Saints in Jackson County, addressed the congregation in a most feeling manner. It was he who had dreamed of the temple and the monogram of Briant's name. And he knew that the hand of God was in the event of the boy's death. While this Elder spoke, his face shone with the Spirit of God, and his words thrilled every heart. Out of the hundreds who were present, probably there were no Saints who did not see a direct manifestation of the Holy Ghost on this occasion. The Elder renewed the promise which he had made to Briant during the child's lifetime; and he did it, unquestionably, by the inspiration of the Almighty. He said:

"It seems strange to our natural senses that this child should be lying here, stilled in death, and yet we should entertain a belief—nay, a knowledge, that he will be with the Saints in his own dear person, at the building of the temple in Jackson County. And yet, my brethren and sisters, I know that the promise made to him will be fulfilled. We are drawing nearer to that great day when wondrous things shall be manifested unto us; the veil between us and the eternal abode of our Almighty Father is growing thinner day by day. It is almost ready to burst."

Elders Rodney C. Badger and Robert F. Neslen, of Salt Lake, also addressed the congregation. Elder Neslen, in referring to the missionary work performed by Briant Stevens, turned to a number of old veterans of the Church who were sitting upon the stand, and said:

"This dear little boy by his own efforts brought four souls into a belief in the everlasting gospel. His converts are here to day, sincere believers, full of promise and devotion to the work, and now I doubt whether some of the rest of us whose forms are bowed, and whose hair is gray, with all our wanderings up and down the face of the earth, can truly say that we have done more than he."

The little form of Briant Stevens was laid away in the cemetery; but his work did not end with the vanishing of his form from its daily associations. Of him truly it may be said that his work lives after him. Some of his former companions have been changed from the hour that they learned of his death; and if there be any prospect in human life which can be deemed certain of fulfillment, these children will be his imitators in all that was good. Word has come to his parents, even from distant points, that children who knew him have said since his death, "we will try to live like little Briant Stevens, so that if we should die we can be remembered."

And two of his daily associates—one of them being Fred J. Bluth, was with him on each occasion when he broke his arm, and the other being Edgar Peterson, one of Briant's converts, have received a power and manifestation concerning him which is not unworthy of mention.

Briant and Fred attended the Central School together; and each night Briant, who was the earlier released from his classes, waited at the gate for Fred. In the second night after Briant was buried, Fred had a dream which he relates almost exactly in the following words:

"I thought that Briant was waiting for me at the gate as usual—only he was dressed in white raiment, like that in which he lay in the coffin. When I came near him, he sprang to my side and threw his arms around my neck. He took my hand, and said: 'Come, Fred, with me.'

"Hand in hand, we ran up town together. We came to a house in which a baby lay dead. We entered the room and looked at the little one. Still hand in hand, we came out, and a large wagon stood before the door. The driver came down from his seat, and we got in and drove to a building like a granary. Briant opened the doors. And then I heard a voice saying:

"'You must fill the wagon with corn.'

"Briant and I began to shovel corn into the wagon; but soon he stopped. I asked:

"'Is it enough?'

"And he answered:

"'Not yet.'

"I worked a little longer, and again I called to him:

"'Is it enough, Briant?'

"And once more he replied:

"'Not yet, Fred.'

"After a still longer time, during which I worked diligently, I asked him for the third time:

"'Is it enough?'

"And Briant replied:

"'Yes, it is enough. Now you must come with me, Fred.'

"I climbed into the wagon with him; and then we drove away together. At once I awoke."

Little Fred felt startled by this dream. He related it to Edgar Peterson, when the latter asked:

"Do you know the meaning of your dream?"

"No."

"Then I will give you the interpretation. It means that your earthly work is not yet finished and that when it is done, Briant will call for you."

My young brethren and sisters, doubtless you all have ambitious moments in which you sigh to be noble, and to do some heroic action. Think of little Briant Stevens. He learned the secret of true greatness. He lived in purity, in faith and in prayer to Almighty God.

The Experience of a Young Missionary in a Lonely Field, 10,000 Miles from Home.

BY THOMAS A. SHREEVE.

CALLED TO AUSTRALASIA—THE MODERN IMITATORS OF JOB'S FRIENDS—OUR "SPECIAL INSTRUCTION" IS TO "BUILD UP THE KINGDOM OF GOD IN THOSE LANDS"—A DISAPPOINTMENT ENDS IN A BLESSING—PROMISES BY AN APOSTLE WHICH WERE LITERALLY FULFILLED—WE REACH SYDNEY, AND I AM SEPARATED FROM MY COMPANION.

If a relation of my missionary experience can give to my young brethren and sisters one tithe of the strength and blessing which that experience itself imparted to me, I shall be more than repaid in relating it. From the reading of similar accounts by other Elders I have derived much benefit myself; but I realize that words are powerless to convey a full description of the events which befall every missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. No man can serve his Savior faithfully in distant lands, among strangers, without receiving and keeping constantly the Spirit of holiness, and without experiencing miraculous interpositions in his behalf. At the time of their occurrence they are subjects of wonder and thankfulness; but as years pass by, it becomes extremely difficult to put them into words so expressive that they do not seem either too fanciful for reality, or too cold to be interesting.

At the General Conference on April 8th, 1878, in company with Elder Fred. J. May, of Salt Lake, I was called to fill a mission in Australasia, comprising Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand. A strange circumstance attended this calling. For a week previous to the time that the public announcement was made, some of the authorities who had the matter in charge, and who had my name with the names of other missionaries, had been looking vainly for me, or for someone who knew me. Three separate times my name was called in public meeting, and a request for my attendance at the President's office was made known. I heard nothing of the matter, although probably scores of my friends and intimate acquaintances were present. But each one thought that I had either heard the notice myself, or would be told by someone else. At last, on Saturday evening, April 6th, 1878, I was informed that a meeting was to be held at the Council House, and that my presence was desired. I was then engaged in the old "Big Boot" shoe store in Salt Lake; and I dropped my work and hastened to the appointment, reaching the Council House just at the appointed hour. I found Brother John Van Cott there, and asked him what was wanted of me.

"Wanted of you?" he asked, in surprise.

"Yes, I was told that inquiry had been made for me in two or three meetings, and that I was wanted here to-night."

"Oh, are you the man? We have been hunting for you for a week. I have known you for years, but I had forgotten entirely who you were. We want to know if you are willing to take a mission. Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

At that moment Uncle Joseph Young came in; and Brother Van Cott turned to him and said:

"Uncle Joseph, here's the man we've been looking for so long."

After President Joseph had looked at me for a moment, he said:

"Young man, we want to know if you are willing to take a mission. If you have any excuses to make, though, you may take them to the President's office."

I replied, "Brother Young, I have no excuses to make. I will endeavor to go whenever I am wanted."

I have since been led to marvel, and to thank my Heavenly Father, that the authorities did not drop my name from the list of missionaries at that time, instead of persisting in the search for me. No doubt it has shaped my life, and given me a blessing which will endure beyond this mortality.

I could not be present in the Tabernacle on the following Monday when the call was made, and therefore did not know to what mission I was assigned, until some over-zealous friends rushed into the place where I was employed, and informed me that I was called to Australasia, and offered me their sympathy.

During the remainder of the week I was the recipient of innumerable condolences. One brother said to me:

"That is the hardest mission in the world. No Elders are there now, and some of the men who were last called to labor in that field—educated and experienced preachers—returned in ten months utterly discouraged, and reported that no satisfactory result could be accomplished in that region."

Another brother said:

"I would rather be called to go into Montana and preach to the miners."

Another said:

"As good a Mormon as I am, I would rather go to Purgatory and preach to the spirits in prison there than to take your mission, Thomas."

And finally another one (who has since suffered martyrdom in the penitentiary)—a prominent business man of Salt Lake, by the way—said:

"The kind of missionary needed in that land is a man like Orson Pratt;" implying very strongly that inexperienced persons like myself might better stay at home than to make a useless attempt to convert the cold and skeptical people in Australia and New Zealand to a knowledge of the gospel.

While I had made up my mind to endeavor, by the help of the Lord, to perform my duty; remarks of this kind could not help but make me despondent. I had been very much surprised, and somewhat shocked, I will confess, when the announcement was made to me of the nature of my mission; and these injudicious condolences intensified my self-distrust, and made me feel as if my trip would be anything but pleasant to myself and advantageous to the cause. But happily all my friends were not of this class. After a few days, and when I was beginning to feel considerably cast down, Elder John Van Cott met me, and said:

"Thomas, I hear that you have been having some of Job's friends to comfort you. Never mind, my boy; go and fill your mission, and you will be blessed in your labor. When I was called to go to Scandinavia I and others felt that it would be a hard mission for me—if not a useless one. But the Lord has wrought it into a blessing for me; because I can travel through the length and breadth of this Territory, and in every settlement I can find a friend."

Within a week after the time we were called, Brother May and myself went to the Council House to be set apart for our labor. Fifty-two Elders, I think, were there the same day to obtain their blessing. We were among the last. In fact all the others had received their ordination and had gone before any attention was paid to us. Apostles Charles C. Rich, Orson Pratt and Lorenzo Snow were there attending to this labor: and when the last of the other missionaries had departed, Brother Rich turned to me and said:

"Well, Thomas, you are going to quit selling shoes, and going to preach the gospel, are you?"

I answered, "Yes, sir; I shall try."

They enquired unto what mission we were called; and learning that we were going to distant and abandoned Australasia, they all expressed great interest in our welfare, and they sat down with us and talked very kindly for some little time.

I had watched the blessings of the other missionaries, and had noticed that the Apostles each took his turn in ordaining the young Elders to their calling. I was acquainted with Apostles Rich and Pratt, but not with Apostle Snow; and I earnestly desired that one of the two former should bless me. So I had located myself in the position where I thought Brother Rich would reach me in his turn. However, their visit with us had disarranged their plan; and when the conversation was ended one of them enquired:

"Whose turn is it to ordain this Elder?"

The result was that Brother Snow was called upon to ordain me. At the moment I was disappointed; for I realized how grave a responsibility I was going forth to meet, and I fancied I could gain greater strength and blessing under the hands of one of the Apostles with whom I had been acquainted for years, than under the hands of a stranger. But the result banished that disappointment. Brother Snow sensed our peculiar situation, and he blessed me with a power and spirit which thrilled my whole being. Before he had concluded his words the tears were coursing down my cheeks like rain. As if the words were uttered yesterday, I remember some promises which he made to me:

"From the moment that you leave these valleys until you return, the angels of the Almighty shall be with you. When you travel by land or by sea, though dangers may beset you on the right hand and on the left, the power of the Almighty shall protect you. Though death may stare you in the face, the angels of the Lord will warn you and shield you. Though the enemies of the truth may plot against you, their evil designs shall be made known to you by the angels of the Lord, and if you heed their warning you shall be protected. When even your brethren shall desert you and turn against you, and your way shall seem to be hedged up, you will find a blessing given you from the Lord, for He will be your friend. And you will see the day when you will have no friend with the power to aid you, other than your Heavenly Father, in all the land where you are sojourning. But we promise you that because of your faith you shall be brought triumphant through these tribulations, and shall be brought to your home again in safety and with the approbation of the Priesthood and the blessing of the Almighty. And you shall live to see the day when your labors in that far-off land will bear good fruit."

Every word of that prophetic blessing has been fulfilled in a most wonderful manner. I believe that the Lord put these things into Brother Snow's mind, and that He gave me these promises to comfort and sustain me; and that in the little disappointment which I felt at not receiving my blessing under the hands of Apostle Rich or Apostle Pratt, the Lord had really His own wise purpose to accomplish.

A week previous to the date fixed for our departure we were at President Taylor's office to learn if he had any special instruction for us. We hoped and expected that he would outline our work or that we might have some particular rule of guidance in that distant and lonely land. But the President's only word was:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the Kingdom of God there."

Three times we asked our question:

"Are there any special instructions for us?"

And three times we received the answer in the President's well-known impressive manner:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the Kingdom of God there."

Elder May looked at him with amazement in his eyes; and certainly if my face indicated my feeling, it betrayed the utmost surprise.

Was this all? President Taylor was the Prophet of God on earth; and we were inexperienced Elders going to a land nearly ten thousand miles away from home, to labor in a mission which had been abandoned by older and more learned men than we were. Naturally, we expected to hear what we must do when we reached Australia; how we must live; how approach the people; and how apportion our time to the various districts of that vast field.

And yet our interview was ended. President Taylor's manner and words—though very kind, and even fatherly, were decisive; and we withdrew in some disappointment. When we got out on the street we looked at each other in a most woe begone manner. I do not know when I felt more forlorn or helpless than at that hour.

But we lived and learned to bless that significant sentence, which President Taylor uttered in his wisdom, and by the inspiration of the Spirit. It became to us better, far better, than a book full of the "special instructions" which we had coveted. Whenever we were discouraged, or torn by doubt, or oppressed by fear; we had our guide:

"Build up the Kingdom of God in those lands!"

And prayer to God invariably showed us the right means to reach that result. If we had been dependent upon a certain method of gospel presentation, and less dependent upon our Heavenly Father, I am sure that we would not have been so greatly blessed as we were in our labors.

We left Zion on Tuesday, May 7th, 1878; and sailed from San Francisco on Monday, May 13th, 1878, on the steamer, City of Sydney. We took steerage passage, and found ourselves in a motley crowd. There were about fifty white passengers and one hundred and twenty-five Chinamen in this part of the ship, and we had a perfect Babel. The Chinamen kept up their own interminable chattering. And among the whites were Welshmen, Irishmen, Scotchmen, Jew, Gentile, Infidel: representatives of every race and of every sect. We even had a dynamiter on board—a person who claimed friendship with the notorious O'Donovan Rossa of New York.

The first port we made was Honolulu; where we met Elder Henry P. Richards, of Salt Lake, and Elder Woodbury, of St. George. They took us to the houses of the Saints, and we had a dinner of poi and salt fish, "luxuries" which I tried my best to appreciate.

On Sunday, June 2nd, we passed Sunday Island, in the South Pacific. That night we retired to rest about ten o'clock. After eight hours sleep we arose—and found that it was Tuesday morning at six o'clock. We had sailed across the line which marks the beginning of the day, and had lost our twenty-four hours. I greatly regretted this loss of Monday, and never felt entirely reconciled to it during the two years that I was away. Fortunately for my peace of mind, on our return we made two Fridays on the same spot; and I allowed my gain of Friday to cancel my loss of Monday.

We entered Auckland harbor on Wednesday, June 5th; and sailed into Sydney Bay at half past two o'clock on Wednesday morning a week later.

We remained in the lower bay during quarantine examination; and later in the morning the City of Sidney steamed up to the central quay, arriving at her birth about eleven o'clock. Several hundred people were on the shore awaiting the arrival of the steamer. They were all complete strangers to me, and I did not expect anyone to meet us. But I saw in the crowd one man whom I instantly knew to be a member of the Church. I turned to point him out to Brother May, but found my companion absent. However, I watched this man attentively, feeling certain that he had come to find us, and that he was one of our brethren. The event proved my supposition to be correct. When he came on board the vessel he asked the steward for two passengers by the name of May and Shreeve. As soon as he spoke I stepped up to him and told him that I was one of the persons wanted. We shook hands; and I found him to be Brother J. Nichols.

We went to his house in Sydney, and were very kindly received. During the next several days we were engaged in a reorganization of the branch, which had become somewhat demoralized by neglect and by inattention of members.

On the 16th day of July, Elder May went to Melbourne; and we did not meet again for more than two years. It was not in our original plan to be separated for so long a time; but subsequent circumstances made that lengthy separation apparently necessary. When we looked over the field after reorganizing the Sydney Branch we discovered that it was entirely too large for us to cover within a reasonable time, if we remained together; and, though we disliked to part company, we felt that by taking separate fields we could cover twice as much ground in a given length of time as by both traveling together. We therefore arranged that Brother May should go down to Melbourne, where he had some relatives, and thence to Tasmania; while I should remain in New South Wales until the following December. About the close of the year we should both go to New Zealand and together visit the branch of the Church there, and endeavor to enlarge the work in that locality. But this plan, for good reasons, was never consummated entirely; and I was parted from the companion whom I had learned to love, and who was the only close friend that I could hope to have on earth in that Hemisphere—from the time of his departure from Sydney until the hour when I set foot on the steamer's deck to return home.

LABOR WHICH BROUGHT LITTLE COMPENSATION—A MYSTERIOUS CALL TO NEW ZEALAND—ATTACKED BY AN EVIL SPIRIT—THE VISITATION THRICE REPEATED—MEETING THE BROTHER OF A FRIEND—ON BOARD THE "WAKATIPU," BOUND FOR NEW ZEALAND.

I felt very lonely after Brother May's departure. The next day, feeling extremely despondent, I walked out to Bondi, a point overlooking the great ocean. There I knelt down among the rocks and prayed most fervently to the Lord for comfort and help through all my trials. I derived such consolation from the communion with my Heavenly Father that I have ever since felt anxious to advise my younger brethren who go on missions, to frequently seek retired spots and there offer devotion to God and supplication for His blessing.

I then engaged in the work of visiting in Sydney and its suburbs; and succeeded in finding several persons who had once been members of the Church. It was our hope to reunite these persons with the Church and get them to renew their covenants and prepare sometime for emigration to Zion; but the majority of them were hardened. The people of New South Wales had no desire to hear or obey the gospel. Many of those who had once had membership in the Church had become Josephites, and these and all the others felt that they needed no rebaptism at our hands, for they were quite good enough without.

Although I labored willingly, and even anxiously, in this region, I never felt peaceful and contented in the city of Sydney. The very hour that I landed there, I felt a weight upon my shoulders as if something were pressing me to the earth. I was as conscious of that weight as if it had really been something physically tangible; and even when I was at the house of Brother Nichols, where we received very kind treatment, I could not rid myself of this sensation. It was only when I could get away from the city itself that I could feel at all light-hearted. I often wondered why I felt so ill at ease in Sydney, and why I could not gain greater contentment when visiting with the family of Brother Nichols there; but this matter was later solved to my understanding, if not to my satisfaction.

Not long after I was left alone I had a strange dream concerning my labors. I thought that I was called to take a mission to the East. The idea was very vivid in my mind, though no steps or time seemed to have been made clear to me. When I awoke, I thought upon the matter, and interpreted it as meaning that, after my return to Zion, I should have another mission—probably to Europe. With this view I attempted to dismiss the matter from my mind; but I found the effort futile. The idea remained persistently with me for three or four days; and then one afternoon when I took up a book and sought to read, suddenly the printed lines were blurred from me, and these words started out from the page:

"You must go to New Zealand."

I rubbed my eyes, astonished, and looked again. The words had disappeared, and for a few moments I was able to read the book. But again these words came upon the page, shutting out the printed lines from my sight:

"You are wanted in New Zealand."

This strange thing was repeated again and again. But I did not permit myself to accept it as a requirement; because I remembered the definite understanding which I had made with Brother May concerning my labors in New South Wales, and the date of our mutual journey to New Zealand in December or January following. I dropped the book for a time, and then picked it up again. The strange appearance of this command was repeated. Not only on this day and with this book did I experience this wondrous manifestation; but day after day with any book or newspaper which I attempted to read, was the appearance repeated. Not understanding that this was a command to me which I ought to obey; and feeling in a measure bound by my agreement with my companion, I could not, despite all these repeated instructions, bring myself to a compliance with it. But soon the warning took another and a stronger form, and hastened my departure, while explaining to me the strange weight which I had felt upon me in Sydney.

One day I went to Ashfield, one of the environs of Sydney, to visit Brother William Armstrong, who resided there with his family. I returned in the afternoon, feeling somewhat weary, and lay down upon a lounge in the front room of Brother Nichols' house. His wife was gossiping with a neighbor in her jocular Irish way, and I felt somewhat amused in listening to her.

Suddenly I felt myself borne down by a strange and awful power. It weighed upon my bosom and seemed to be crushing me, while it pressed also upon my mouth and threw my head over the top of the lounge. The pressure upon my face was as distinct as if it had been made by a sinewy hand pressing a cloth tightly over my mouth and nose. In the first excitement my heart beat very rapidly, and then stopped, motionless. I struggled to release myself, even reaching out with one hand and seizing the edge of the lounge, intending to draw myself down to the floor. Every effort was unavailing, and it seemed to me that I was losing myself and must soon die, if I could not obtain relief. Then the thought came to me to pray, and I cried in my inmost soul:

"Oh, Lord! help me!"

No sooner had this petition passed in thought through my mind than I was instantly released. I sprang to my feet, trembling with fear and suffering, but I made no cry and gave no explanation to those who were present.

The sensation which I experienced at the time I was in the grasp of this power was as distinctly painful as any physical suffering I ever endured, and more intense than any ordinary physical pain can be. I wondered at it, as I had not been subject to such attacks; I even bit my finger to see if I were really awake, thinking that possibly I might be in a dream. But I found it all too real. Searching my mind for some explanation, I concluded that as I had returned to the house hungry and worried, I had possibly taken too much dinner. And with this unsatisfactory explanation I forced myself to be content for the time.

A few days later I determined to fast; and in the course of the day I went to the Botanical Gardens. Upon my return, feeling somewhat faint and tired, I again lay down upon the couch. In a few minutes the awful influence once more seized me—this time with even greater power than before. I was affrighted and helpless. In the midst of my dreadful physical pain and mental torture came the realization that I was in the grasp of an evil spirit. This sudden knowledge intensified my torture. For some seconds—it seemed to me an age, my heart stood still. I felt myself slipping away, but could not move nor cry aloud. Once more the inspiration came to me to pray, and I called upon my Heavenly Father for help. At once the influence departed, and I sprang to my feet weak and trembling. I felt every hair on my head standing upright.

I recalled the description given by Joseph Smith of the darkness which enveloped him when he first prayed in the woods for light; and I knew that I had experienced in some slight degree the same torment which he encountered on that occasion. I remembered that the Prophet spoke of giving up under the torture that he was suffering, and of his being saved by the power of God just at the moment when he felt himself slipping away into death and perdition. This, though undoubtedly in a greatly moderated degree, was my own experience.

After this the feeling that I must go to New Zealand was borne irresistibly. The last emphatic warning had shown me that Sydney was no place for me at this hour, and that I must heed the commandments which were given to me. Accordingly, I purchased a ticket for Port Littleton, distant about twelve hundred miles from Sydney.

The steamer by which I was to sail would not leave for a week, but I could not rest easy until I had secured my passage. The vessel was called the Wakatipu, from two Maori words, waka, meaning canoe, and tipu, meaning goods; the union signifying a canoe or ship to carry goods.

After purchasing this ticket the feeling of anxiety and unrest which had possessed me departed, and I felt quite content in the full consciousness that I was now in the line of my duty; but I still had a dread of the evil influences which I now knew abounded in Sydney and inhabited the house at which I was staying.

When now I took up a book or a newspaper I could see the words as distinctly as ever, and was no more visited by the commandment which had been so manifest on other occasions.

The couch on which I had lain when seized by these dark powers was my own bed at night, and I had not been troubled in the evening. But from the hour of the second seizure I religiously avoided sitting or reclining upon the lounge in the day-time. I had a strong horror of sleeping upon this couch at night, but I had no alternative; and solaced myself by constant prayer and humility before the Lord, asking to be protected from the assaults of the adversary.

Previous to taking my departure for New Zealand I went out to Ashfield to bid Brother Armstrong and his family farewell. Again I returned late in the evening. I thoughtlessly threw myself upon the couch, and almost in the very second I was seized by the destroyer. The experience was the same as on the other occasions, except that it was much more powerful and painful. I believed for a moment that I must die; but once more I was restored by my prayer to heaven. The sensations I suffered in these seizures I never can forget. To speak of them even at this hour causes a chill of horror to pass over my being, and as a rule I feel a dreadful pain attacking my heart.

I did not speak of these experiences to anyone in Sydney, nor to anyone else for a long time. I was inexperienced in these matters, and I thought it wise to keep my own counsel. But nearly a year afterward I received a letter from Brother May, who had returned to Sydney and had stopped at the house of Brother Nichols, while I was in New Zealand. He had occupied as a bed the couch whereon I had slept; and he informed me that he had been seized by evil spirits in the night, dragged from his bed, and tortured. After this reinforcement of my own views I wrote to Brother May, informing him of what had occurred at the house on three separate occasions when I was lying upon that couch. I felt then that not only was the city of Sydney an oppressive place for the Elders, but that the house where we had stopped, though occupied by a man who professed the faith, offered a welcome to evil influences. Such an opinion was substantiated later when Nichols and his wife turned Brother May out of the house, and then apostatized and joined the Josephites.

Although they had treated me very kindly I always felt under a restraint when I was on their premises; and the event showed that they preferred association with the powers of darkness to the friendship and company of the Elders of the Church.

Mrs. Nichols and her eldest son are dead; and the man, if alive, leads what I imagine must be a lonely and unsatisfactory life. I am convinced that he knows the gospel to be true; for I have had proof that he possesses this knowledge. Realizing this, I imagine that his mind must be in a dreadful state of remorse and anxiety.

The day before I was to take the steamer Wakatipu I went to the post office at Sydney to mail some letters. While standing at the stamp window a man walked quickly up through the crowd, thrust a paper under my face into the window, and cried:

"Foreign stamp—quick, please!"

He laid the paper down, and I saw the address upon it. To my amazement it was:

"JOHN ALFORD,
     Salt Lake City, Utah Territory, U.S.A."

I looked at the gentleman and said:—

"I beg pardon, sir; but do you know the gentleman to whom you are sending this paper?"

"Yes, sir. My brother, sir. Do you know him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Meet me here at twelve o'clock."

And with these words he was gone like a flash.

It was then eleven o'clock and I had an hour to wait. I strolled around for a short time, and promptly at twelve o'clock I was on the veranda of the post office, awaiting the coming of the very abrupt gentleman. On the stroke of the hour he dodged between the pillars of the veranda, rushed through the crowd, and beckoned me to him. Then he started at a rapid rate down the street, and I followed. After going a short distance he turned and asked me:

"Had your dinner?"

"No, sir."

"Come along, then."

We entered the Free Mason Hotel, the dining room of which was crowded. Seating ourselves at a table he gave his order for a beefsteak; and I was too good a Britisher to refuse the same.

While we were waiting, he asked if I were acquainted with his brother. I answered that I was, having worked for the same institution which employed him, for a number of years.

At his request I gave him such information as I possessed about Brother John Alford and his family, and by this time the steaks were ready, and he proceeded to eat his hurriedly.

I saw there was no time for talking, unless I wished to lose my dinner, so I plied knife and fork vigorously. When we were through he paid the charge, and we walked out.

Then he asked how long I had been in Australia. I answered:

"About two months."

"How long shall you stay?"

"Until to-morrow at one o'clock, when I leave for New Zealand by the steamer Wakatipu."

"Are you a Mormon Elder?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you travel like my brother did when he was preaching in England what you folks call the gospel—without purse or scrip?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is a very strange faith you people have. He never did any work while he was in England preaching, but he could go anywhere he wanted to go—while I, who was always working, never had either time or money to go anywhere. Curious, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir—our faith is a strange one to the world. But we are placed in such a position that we have learned to rely upon God, our Eternal Father, whose gospel we are preaching. We know that while we are executing His commands, He will provide the means."

Mr. Alford shook his head incredulously, and muttered:

"Queer faith—strange faith—I can't see it. I am busy now. Come to-morrow at twelve o'clock. I will meet you at the post office. I want to see you."

I replied:

"I must leave at one o'clock. I will scarcely have time to meet you."

"Nonsense! Come. That steamer won't sail before four or five o'clock."

Promptly at the appointed time the next day I was at the post office, and again met Mr. Alford. He shook me warmly by the hand and said:

"I expect, young man, you haven't got very much money."

"You are right," I answered.

In purchasing my ticket to Littleton I had expended my last shilling. My destination was the town of Rangiora, some distance from Port Littleton, and I needed means to pay my fare to that place.

Mr. Alford pressed ten shillings in my hand, at the same time saying:

"I do not understand how you folks can travel without purse or scrip."

I could have explained to him how his ten shillings had relieved me, and enabled me to fulfill the commands of my Master; but I saw that he was a business man—skeptical and unapproachable to the message which I was bearing to the world, and I made no attempt to encroach further upon his time.

I went on board the vessel during the afternoon, and felt that I was obeying the sacred behest which had been so often and so mysteriously repeated to me in Sydney. But the adversary seemed determined to cling to me and to fill my mind with evil thoughts. I tried to banish sadness by gazing from the deck of the moving vessel at the beautiful city of Sydney and the still more beautiful bay. But the effort was vain; my prevailing emotion was one of despondency. The ship, the receding lands, the sea into which we were passing—all seemed so vast; and I seemed such a lonely mite, that I could not find comfort in that hour.

Gradually, as the night came on, the shores grew indistinct. Only a myriad of lights twinkled out to show where the city lay. From vessels riding at anchor or moving up the bay to moor after their long voyages, came shouts of masters and songs of men. The azure depths of sky and sea held each its countless stars. But the beauty of the scene only made me more impressionable to melancholy; and I took one long farewell look at the light-dotted city and the light-dotted bay—lovely beyond description—and then went below.

I have never seen Sydney since that lonely hour.