Eventful Narratives: The Thirteenth Book of the Faith Promoting Series. Designed for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-day Saints — John Shaqi
Eventful Narratives: The Thirteenth Book of the Faith Promoting Series. Designed for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-day SaintsAveson, Robert
History
Eventful Narratives: The Thirteenth Book of the Faith Promoting Series. Designed for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-day Saints
Aveson, Robert
Latter Day Saints -- Juvenile fiction
All was quiet, no noise, not even the ticking of a clock, could be
heard. There was no light save the glimmer of the gas from the passage
way outside the cell.
We were alone and felt sad and rather low-spirited. We conversed but
little. I walked up and down the cell; Richard laid down and tried to
sleep. This was a hard thing for him to do, as his thoughts troubled
him. Oh, how I lifted my heart heavenward and prayed most fervently
to my Heavenly Father to comfort us in our hour of trial! Presently I
heard footsteps, and a voice at the door asked:
"Do you want anything, mates?"
I answered, "No."
Poor fellow! It was one of the keepers. They evidently felt for us, for
they came two or three times and asked the same question. Then I laid
down and tried to sleep, but could not.
We had been in the cell perhaps two hours, when a heavenly influence
rested upon us. I said to Richard:
"How do you feel?"
He replied, "I feel happy."
I told him I never felt so happy in all my life as at that moment, and
remarked I did not care how long we remained in the cell if we could
feel like that all the time.
It was the holy influence of the Spirit of the Lord that rested upon
us. To us it was a testimony that the gospel we had embraced was true.
Our minds became calm and we were strengthened in that hour of trial.
At last sleep closed our eyes. Thus ended a very eventful day of our
lives.
About half-past 5 next morning our breakfast was handed to us through
the small, square hole in the door--bread and butter and coffee. We
tasted the coffee, but did not like it; so I asked the keeper to give
us some water, which he did.
About 6 o'clock, the cell door was opened and there stood before us an
officer from Middlesbrough, a gentleman whom we had seen before. He
produced a pair of handcuffs and put them on our wrists. This indignity
we felt most keenly. My wrists were so thin the handcuffs were almost
too large and they nearly slipped over my hand. He told us to follow
him, which we did, and as we passed through the police office, we bade
the keepers good-by. Their kindness towards us is still treasured up by
me, and if ever the pleasure of meeting them again presents itself, it
will be a source of happiness to shake them by the hand and thank them
for past favors.
A hack was waiting in front of the office, which we got into and
started for the railway which would take us to Middlesbrough.
A little while after the train had started the handcuffs were removed
from our wrists. To pass the time away we amused ourselves looking out
of the car windows and viewing passing objects and did all we could to
make them think we did not care for being taken back to our homes; but
could the secrets of our bosoms have been revealed, two aching hearts
would have been discovered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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