ARRIVAL AT SUNDERLAND—ON THE STEAMER "GENERAL HAVELOCK"—IN LONDON—ON BOARD THE "AMERICAN CONGRESS" —UNPLEASANT NEWS—A MEETING OF THE SAINTS—AN AWFUL SURPRISE —"I WANT YOU!"—TAKEN PRISONERS.

I went down to a steamboat landing, crossed the River Tees in a small steamer and waited there nearly half an hour, when Richard came. He brought with him our box, which contained a bed-quilt, some books and other articles.

On this side of the river was the Port Clarence railway station, where, after securing our tickets, we took the train for Sunderland.

We arrived at the latter place about 7:30 p.m. After some little trouble we found President George J. Linford, who was staying at a Brother Inglefield's. We procured lodgings for the night, for which we paid fourpence (eight cents) each.

Early next morning we went on board the steamer General Havelock. Quite a number of Saints (between fifty and sixty) embarked on the steamer; they hailed from Newcastle, Sunderland and other places.

About 8 o'clock the steamer started. It was pleasant sailing. This was the first time we had been on sea. Richard and I enjoyed ourselves and felt very happy. We were pleased to be away from home and soon made intimate acquaintance with the Saints, finding among them many good-hearted people. We had some interesting conversation which helped to pass away the time.

The following day we arrived in the great metropolis—London— about half-past 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

During the forenoon of the next day President Linford informed us we could go on board the American Congress, but said he did not know whether we could sail on that vessel or not. He told us that shortly after we left Sunderland on the Saturday morning, a telegram came there from Brigham Young, Jr., asking him not to let the Saints start, but for them to wait till the next ship was ready.

In the evening of that day, President Linford went to Liverpool to see Brother Young and make final arrangements about sailing.

This was rather unpleasant news to Richard and myself, for if we could not go with that ship, it would be expensive to wait two or three weeks till the next vessel started; in fact, we did not have means to do so. Not only this, but we were in suspense about being away, for we were afraid we might be captured and taken back to our homes.

In the forenoon of that day we went down to St. Catherine's Docks and got on board the American Congress.

The next morning Bro. Barker Childs, one of the Saints who sailed with us from Sunderland, asked me a rather curious question. Said he:

"What would you think if you were taken off the ship?"

I replied: "I don't know."

Shortly after this, President Linford came.

"Good morning," said Barker.

"Good morning," responded Linford.

"Well," said Barker, "what's the news? Have we to stay here or not?"

"You can go with this vessel," replied President Linford.

This was good news to all of us who had sailed from Sunderland, and we felt to rejoice when he told us.

Late in the afternoon of Wednesday the ship was towed down the river to Shadwell Basin, and word was passed around that she would sail early next morning.

About 7 o'clock in the evening a meeting of the Saints was held on the deck. There were some good, soul-stirring hymns sung, and addresses were delivered by Elders John Nicholson and N. H. Felt.

While the services were in progress quite a crowd of spectators were viewing us from the shore, and among them was a short, stout man, who gazed intently at Richard and I.

After the meeting was over we both went below to our bunk, where we anxiously awaited the morrow to come, when we would be out on the ocean beyond all danger of pursuit. The ship was well filled with passengers —every berth being taken.

Early next morning we were up in good time. I walked about the cabin and on the deck with a feeling of gloom over me. I told Richard of my foreboding of something unpleasant, but what it was I could not tell. The sailors were busy preparing for the long voyage, and we expected soon to start.

About half past 7 o'clock I went off the ship to get a supply of water. Returning, I came near to where Richard was on deck, and said:

"Here's the water; now let's go and get breakfast."

No sooner had I said these words than a noise occurred in the gangway, and the next moment a voice cried out:

"That's one of them!"

I had hardly time to turn around when a rough hand seized me by the collar. The next words I heard were:

"I want you!"

The person who spoke first was Mr. Thomas Carter, Richard's employer; the other speaker was a London detective, the man who watched us so closely the night previous at the meeting.

Mr. Carter then, in a quick tone, enquired:

"Where's Richard?"

"He is there," I replied, pointing towards him as he stood close by, an eye-witness to what was going on.

The detective then seized him and pulled him towards me, taking from his breast coat pocket two summonses.

"Robert Aveson," said he to me, "Is that your name?"

"Yes," was my answer.

"And Richard Sedgwick?"

Richard responded to his name.

"You have absconded from your apprenticeship," continued the detective. "You thought no one could catch you, did you?"

I replied, "No."

Mr. Carter then asked Richard if he had any luggage, who replied in the negative.

I quickly said, "I have."

Then we all went down into the cabin together.