Labors in the Vineyard: Twelfth Book of the Faith-Promoting Series. Designed for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-Day Saints.Various
Religion
Labors in the Vineyard: Twelfth Book of the Faith-Promoting Series. Designed for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-Day Saints.
Various
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- Missions
The morning after the meeting alluded to in the last chapter we learned
that the priests and parsons of the different denominations had met
and decided to unite in preventing their people from coming to hear us
preach, for they said that we were dangerous men, and we were of the
class of false prophets of whom Jesus spoke, who should come in the
last days to deceive the people. We had labored a few weeks in this
city and had baptized a few into the Church, when we received a letter
from Emue Plains, stating that the people would like to see and hear a
"Mormon" Elder. Emue Plains was a distance of sixty miles from where we
were, and when we started it had been raining about a week, and a great
portion of the country was flooded with water. We had a large river to
cross on the way, and we were informed that the bridge had been carried
off and there was a ferry established across the river which charged
five shillings each passenger. We did not have any money with which to
pay this charge, and my companion was anxious to know what we should do
for money to pay the ferriage with. We were then about three miles from
the ferry, and were passing through timber. I told him that we would go
into the woods and pray to God to open the heart of some one to give
it to us. We did so, and we had traveled but a short distance through
a lane between two fields, when we looked ahead of us a little way and
saw an old man coming across the field. He came into the road ahead of
us, and as he came to meet us he had a smile on his countenance. He
reached out his hand to me, as if to shake hands, and left a crown, or
five shilling piece, in my hand and went to my companion and did the
same; but spoke not a word. I cannot describe the feeling that we had
when the man took hold of our hands; we felt our hearts burn within
us, and it did not seem that we had power to ask him his name or where
he was from, as we usually did when a person gave us any article of
clothing or money. He was a man about six feet high, well proportioned,
and wore a suit of light gray clothes and a broad-brimmed hat, and his
hair and beard were about eighteen inches long and as white as snow.
We passed on and came to the ferry, and the money that we had was just
enough to pay our ferriage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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