A MUTUAL SURPRISE.

After a few words of ordinary conversation, Brother and Sister Farmer suggested that we go downstairs to the fire, as there was no heat above, only what came up through a register, or opening in the floor. So Brother Farmer went first, Sister Farmer next, and the writer followed, still in deep mystery. While we know that life is made up of surprises, yet if the writer had been mystified and surprised before, he was dumbfounded on reaching the bottom of those stairs. What do you suppose did it? Well, if I were guessing myself, it would take me at least "the thousand years" to guess it, or come anything near the mark. Sitting there at a table covered with books, papers, etc., and with an expression of contempt and chagrin on their faces, as plain as if they had been caught stealing or had been warned of the approach of reinforcements (and I've no doubt but what their master did give them a tip), sat two well groomed, smooth tongued Mormon elders, on their usual mission of "seeking whom they may devour."

I said an expression of contempt was in their looks. Well, that doesn't half express their second expression of countenance, even before I was as much as introduced and language fails to express my feelings in the matter. Their look fully, very fully, personified the statement: "Jesus I know, Paul I know, but who are you?"

My feelings were of utter incapability to meet the situation. The memory of unimproved opportunities to qualify as a defender of the great gospel; the consciousness of neglected privileges of study; the idle attention I had sometimes given matters of importance; all flashed before me in the "tremendous" instant, and I certainly felt to "quiver and quake" as the true meaning and size of my morning mission dawned upon me.

Those who know the writer know he has a little streak of combativeness in his makeup-that he isn't entirely ignorant of church history, and he can pretty nearly always argue a little (?) on most subjects, and they may be surprised (and perhaps gratified) to know that for once, as he stood there on the lower step of Brother Farmer's stairway, he was completely nonplussed. In thinking it over since, so many times, I have fully concluded that those representatives of those doctrines standing there to meet our advance did certainly call to their assistance a power interested in their propaganda, and it was that influence which for the moment seemed to daze me.

However, my Dutch head (which, like most Dutch heads, works slowly) finally did get busy, and when it did, a prayer went up, not a long prayer, not an elegant prayer, but a crude, impulsive, simple prayer, "Dear God, it's up to you." That's all; but like a shot came back the assuring answer, in language not altogether unfamiliar to the writer, "Take no thought how or what ye shall speak. For it shall be given you what you shall speak." With the answer also came a "goodly portion" of that quiet, gentle influence which can so thoroughly penetrate one's system, expelling all fear, quelling all alarm, assuring one of the dear Lord's ability and will to "perform all that he has promised."

After the momentary spell which we have just outlined had passed, we were formally presented to the "gentlemen," and as we had evidently "interrupted" them in their conversation and readings, as the display on the table indicated, we assured them we did not wish to let our coming stop them in their investigation. They seemed very much inclined, however, to "postpone," but with the "suggestion" given us while standing on that lower step we urged a continuance, and soon found that they had been presenting to Brother Farmer the usual 'dope" regarding succession in presidency, the migration of the church, the prophecy (?) of Joseph Smith about going to Utah, their temple building, their "mighty" people, and last, thought not least (but always), polygamy and the "Brigham Young tenets" of their code (I can't say faith). On the other hand they were showing what a little "affair" the Reorganized Church was; that "young Joseph" was only ordained by seventies; that all the twelve went with them; the Reorganization didn't have any twelve; "why did it re-organize? why isn't it mighty-like us?" and a dozen or so of their usual propositions, which are so easy for them to explain (according to their own thinking) by their own rules of evidence; not however by some of their own books, which themselves condemn them.

INTO THE FRAY.

Well, your writer, as he usually did, had a grip in the buggy, partly loaded with his church books, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Bible, and as luck made it happen, just at this time he had among several other similar works, Bro. Heman C. Smith's excellent little (small in size only) book on "Succession in Church Presidency." After going out to the buggy and getting the "tools," and with the abiding of that assurance I had received, I undertook to line up their points and answer them, also to line up some points which I wished them to explain.

We started out to do it systematically, and never in my life did it work so smoothly, so visibly to the point, and with such direct and telling effect. For two solid hours or more of this rapid and effectual firing, it seemed to me that we were "in the Spirit" and distinctly can I yet remember how at times I (in my natural body) seemed to be standing off to one side viewing the battle. Even the books and the papers we needed in confounding their false doctrine seemed to be inspired, and really would open and turn to places which I never remember seeing or hearing of before. Language was given me in such a rapid and continued supply that I was astonished and wondered at myself. It certainly was being "given me what to say," for I willingly confess it wasn't in me to produce such a strong case as they got during that brief (for it didn't seem ten minutes to me) two or two and a half hours.

If those present didn't find out who reorganized, how they reorganized, and why they reorganized; if those elders didn't find out what a law-defying people they had been in Utah, and what a humble, consistent, and faithful people (under the unjust stigma, too, that Utah had brought on the name of Latter Day Saint,) the

Josephites were; if they didn't find out how "young Joseph" was "only" set apart by his father, the Seer, according to the books, being set apart and ordained by high priests after the order of Melchisedec, the highest priesthood known; if they didn't see how they didn't even obey or regard the law as shown in even their own books, let alone the law of good morals, decency, and manhood— to say nothing of breaking and defying the laws of the land which the Lord had said, "If a man keep the laws of God he hath no need to break the laws of the land"; I say if they didn't catch all these and many other pertinent and unanswered points, then it was because their eyes were heavy and their ears dull.

We fully believe, too, that even under the influence of their ministry, they also well knew that the Lord was putting forth those strong arguments, and not for us. Whether they appreciated that or not, one thing is a fact, that when we finally got through they hardly wanted to stay and partake of the excellent dinner (about 4.30 p. m.) which Sister Farmer had prepared while going about with beaming face and attentive ear during the time we had been engaged, and after finally having stayed to dinner, notwithstanding the fact that they had previously made arrangements to hold meeting in the vicinity, they picked up bag and baggage and the next I heard of them they had made a feeble effort way down by Mount View, but had finally left for parts unknown.

HOME AGAIN.

Personally, my experience had so invigorated me and "lifted me up" that about 5 o'clock in the evening, the storm having abated and the sky again being clear, I hitched old Dobbin to the gig, and with a ready response, which I really thought indicated a degree of satisfaction on his part, he headed for home and landed us there safe and sound about 11 o'clock, finding everything all right and having really enjoyed the ride, such a wonderful portion of that sweet Spirit following me that nearly all the way my heart and voice could but sing the sweet songs of Zion, in praise and thanksgiving.

Before leaving Brother and Sister Farmer they told me of how those elders had come to their home a day or so before and had in "sheep's clothing" fashion tried to persuade them that the Utah Church was the church, that in spite of their abhorrence of the doctrine of polygamy, which these elders had at first kept in the background, they had made such an array "of show" that Brother Farmer had been seriously troubled in mind about the matter, but Sister Farmer, true to womanly good perceptions and righteous instincts, seeing the impression being made on her companion, had been going about her work praying for help and deliverance, hence her statement when I was introduced to her when first going into the house. The prayer of that dear child of God was heard, and how easy it was for the dear Father to move on my mind; on the old horse; yes, and on the very elements themselves, to temper them so that help came in the time of need.

May the dear Lord bless these and all isolated Saints, and keep

them, and may they and we all keep in the shadow of the Arm of Strength which is so often reached out to us, and may we all sing with understanding:

"We have an anchor that keeps the soul,

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll."

The Mormon Girl.

By Paula Brown.

EDITOR'S NOTE.-The author of this story has spent practically all of her life in Salt Lake City, Utah. Her parents were for many years members of the dominant church in Utah, but later were converted and became members of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. She has had every opportunity to study and observe conditions in her native State. She vouches for the fact that all of the leading events in the story, incredible though some of them may seem, are based on actual occurrences.

ว

CHAPTER XX.-ESCAPED.

HE fateful Thursday morning came and at 10.30 o'clock the bishop all dressed in his best, drove up to the Brownley residence in his carriage and was met at the door by Mr. Brownley.

"Good morning, Brother Brownley, and how are the young ladies this morning?" inquired the bishop with his blandest smile, and rubbing his hands together with great self-satisfaction. "Good morning, bishop, please be seated," said Mr. Brownley, as he waved his hand toward a chair while he paced the floor, for he was too excited and restless to be seated himself.

"My daughter June has escaped us, in spite of all our precaution. She is missing this morning, and we have been unable to locate her so far," he continued.

The bishop looked startled for a moment, then the look changed to one of impatience and sarcasm, as he exclaimed: "Indeed!"

But Mr. Brownley seemed not to notice it, and continued: "She has been quite ill for several days and now she has disappeared and we fear she"

"My dear brother, you do not understand the little tricks of our charming girls-as I told you before. She has been shamming and is hiding somewhere now, just to baffle us. Your orders to keep her under lock and key have not been obeyed, you see, or this would not have happened. You see the wisdom of my advice now?"

"It may be as you say, bishop, but she is gone, and we fear she may have made away with herself. Would to God it were as you say."

"Are you sure she is not hiding around the place here somewhere?"

Mr. Brownley shook his head, and the bishop continued: "She's eloped with that rascal Gray-that's about the size of it, though I'm positive that he's not in town; but I guess she knows where he is. Well, where's May? I'll take her anyhow."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the doorbell rang. Mr. Brownley stepped to the door, and Wilbert and Mr. Bridge came in. The four men thus brought suddenly face to face, looked at each other in confusion for a moment. Wilbert and Mr. Bridge noticed the angry frown on the bishop's brow, and the nervous, anxious manner of Mr. Brownley, and surmised a quarrel, or something amiss. Wilbert introduced Mr. Bridge to the two men, then inquired after the health of the family of Mr. Brownley.

"Perhaps, sir, you know more about them than I do?-some of them at least," answered Mr. Brownley.

Wilbert looked puzzled, and glanced at the bishop, and then at Mr. Bridge, as if seeking a clew to the enigma, while Mr. Brownley and the bishop eyed him suspiciously.

"I do not understand you, sir," he said, looking inquiringly at Mr. Brownley.

The rear door opened at this juncture, and Mrs. Brownley came into the room, accompanied by May. Their eyes were red with recent weeping. They shook hands with Wilbert and Mr. Bridge. The bishop tried to assume his usual bland manner, as he arose and advanced to shake hands with them.

"Are you ready to go with me, my dear?" he said to May, in his usual purring way.

"Not on a day like this! This seemes more like a funeral day than like a wedding day," she answered.

Mr. Brownley asked them to be seated. After all were seated, Wilbert feeling uneasy at not seeing June come in with them, inquired of Mrs. Brownley if June was at home, and hoping she was well.

"Mr. Gray, June has disappeared, and we know nothing of her whereabouts or her condition," answered Mrs. Brownley, drying her eyes.

"My God! When did that happen-when did you miss her?" said Wilbert.

"I left her last night at about eight o'clock lying down in her room. She has been quite ill for several days, and she said if she went to sleep for me not to disturb her. Just before retiring for the night I opened her door and listened; there was no light and all was still; I made no light for fear of disturbing her, and thinking she was asleep, I closed the door softly and went to bed."

The bishop began to think this was a ruse of Mrs. Brownley's and her daughters to baffle him, and Wilbert and Mr. Bridge were beginning to think the same that it was a sharp trick of Mrs. Brownley's to save her daughter, and a scheme worthy of her, too, when she continued, after drying her eyes once more: "This morning I went to her room again, to see how she was, and she was not there

"At what time this morning?" asked the bishop.

"At about 8 o'clock," she answered, and continued: "I do not know when nor where she went. I found this on her dresser," and she drew a note from the bosom of her dress and handed it to Wilbert, saying, "Please read it."