THE FIRST LATTER-DAY SAINT MEETING—WILLIAM H. SCOTT HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH MY MOTHER—SHE FORBIDS ME HAVING ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE "MORMONS." It was on the Sunday following when I attended the first Latter-day Saint meeting, having received permission to do so from my parents. That morning I went as usual to the Baptist Sunday school, but did not enjoy myself as much as heretofore. This I attributed to my lack of faith in their doctrines. Knowing "Mormonism" to be true, I could gain no satisfaction from any other source. The place where the Latter-day Saint meeting was to be held was at a small village called Eston, about four miles from Middlesbrough. Our company left town for that place about 1 o'clock p.m., and consisted of William Littlefair, president of the Middlesbrough and Stockton branch, Thomas Watson, secretary of the branch, William H. Scott and myself. It was one of the happiest afternoons I ever spent. We were soon out of town, tripping along through lovely green fields bedecked with flowers of various kinds. Being very much interested in the conversation of President Littlefair and the other brethren—of course it was mostly pertaining to the gospel—the time passed away quickly and we soon arrived at Eston, where the meeting was to be held at the house of a sister named Fewster. The meeting was opened with an appropriate hymn, then prayer by one of the brethren. The sacrament was administered, and the hymn commencing,
was sung. The time was mostly occupied by President Littlefair. As this was the first meeting attended by me and the first time I had heard the gospel preached I listened attentively to the words of the speakers. After meeting we partook of tea with Sister Fewster, during which we enjoyed a pleasant, sociable chat. Then we returned homeward, arriving in Middlesbrough about 6 o'clock in the evening. While penning this brief narrative I cannot help reflecting upon the present time. Passing along to my Sunday meetings I often see a number of boys, about my age at that time, and some older ones, loitering about the streets, breaking the Sabbath, neglecting to attend worship, and many who never even visit Sunday school. They have not the love for their religion, which filled my heart at their age. These remarks apply not only to the young, but also to others more advanced in years, who often neglect their meetings, excusing themselves on one frivolous pretext or another. William H. Scott told President Littlefair that I desired baptism. The president said as I was under age that rite could not be administered to me. It was necessary for me to first obtain permission from my parents. Thinking the best way to get their consent would be for William to talk to my mother on the subject of "Mormonism," I arranged an interview with her. Accordingly, William went and conversed with her on the first principles of the gospel. It was on a Thursday night. She was interested and listened attentively to the teachings of the young preacher, for he was but a young man, seventeen years of age. At the close of the interview it was agreed upon that in a week's time he should pay her another visit. The appointment was promptly kept, and at its close William gained my mother's consent to my baptism. The next night, Friday, my father, on being consulted, said he was willing for me to do as I pleased. As everything seemed to be working in my favor, I sought my mother's consent, before retiring to rest on Saturday night, to attend another meeting of the Saints, which was to be held in the afternoon of the next day. Judge of my surprise on being told by her that she did not wish me to have anything more to do with so deluded a people, giving them a bad name and saying: "I would rather bury you in the churchyard than have you join the Mormons." Too full of grief to make any reply to her remarks, with drooping head and aching heart I slowly went up stairs to my bed chamber and there knelt and prayed humbly and fervently to my Heavenly Father, while the tears rolled down my cheeks. Restlessly I lay upon my bed. "I would rather bury you in the churchyard than have you join the Mormons." Oh, how these words rang in my ears! I had never been so tried before in my life. The knowledge that "Mormonism" was true was firm in my heart, for I had received a testimony and was very anxious to get baptized; but my hopes now were blighted. What course should I pursue? I was young—just approaching my fifteenth birthday— and still under the control of my parents, whom I desired to obey in all things. But could I give up "Mormonism" and deny the testimony I had received? No, the Lord helping me, I would never do that. Then, again, my temporal position weighed upon my heart. I had recently been apprenticed in the printing business for seven years; and the laws of the country compelled me to serve out this time. And thus query after query arose in my mind for some length of time, until at last, tired out, sleep closed my eyelids. Instead of going to Sunday school on the following morning I went to see W. H. Scott and related to him what had transpired. He sympathized with me in my troubled state, advice to me was: It afterwards came to my knowledge that my mother had been making inquiries of her minister and members of the Wesleyan Reformers in regard to what kind of people the "Mormons" were and what was their belief; and the false statements she received in reply accounted for the unkind answer she gave me. I went to the Latter day Saints' meeting whenever opportunity offered, but was very cautious not to inform my parents. Sometimes I attended meetings at Eston and Stockton (both places being about four miles from home) as well as at Middlesbrough. I soon left my former Sunday school and began attending another of the same persuasion, but differing on some points of doctrine. Then I attended the Unitarian school, where their exercises partook of a secular as well as of a religious nature. From there I went to the Wesleyans; but wherever I roamed no true spiritual enjoyment could be found as at the meetings of the Latter-day Saints. |