"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.