"Go, Preach the Gospel to all the World."

Ephraim was doing some talking. Everyone loved Betty Emmit—young and old—but some wondered if she would make a good missionary. She was so full of rollicking fun, that it was not easy to imagine her setting down to the strict, sober life of a mission. However, those who knew her well, knew her deep religious nature, which after all was the motive power of her young life and the source of her merry sunshine disposition.

A farewell party was to be given to Betty at the town hall. Posters were everywhere hung, and the admonition was given for every one to be present. The only ones excused would be "tired husbands" who should send money by their wives.

Betty stood reading one of these posters and laughed to herself.

"Whoever wrote that! The very idea! Here's for equal rights!"

From her pocket, she took her pencil and wrote underneath,

"'Tired wives' will send money by their husbands!"

"What right have you to touch those public posters?" said a voice that made her turn quickly.

She faced the young man with mock defiance.

"They're my posters, aren't they?"

"Not a bit of it," he replied; his blue eyes laughing into her merry, brown ones. "Nothing belongs to you now,—you belong to everybody, Miss Missionary!"

"Indeed!" returned the girl, tossing her curls. "Perhaps, then, you'd like to take the 'public property' home for safe keeping until to-night?"

"Just why I stopped the car!" exclaimed the youth delighted. "You shouldn't be wandering around the streets tiring yourself out, for to-night everyone will want to have a 'farewell' dance with you!"

Betty jumped into the car, her companion following, and the machine raced off. Once off Main St., Stanley Todd slackened his machine. He turned to Betty tenderly.

"So girlie, you're off for two whole years? Suppose when you come back, you'll look down on Ephraim, and such as me."

Betty looked up at the bright face, bronzed by the sun and outdoor-life of the mountains. Her eyes softened, and sudden tears filled her lovely eyes.

"When Betty Emmit forgets Ephraim and her old friends," she replied soberly, "the sun will cease to shine!"

"By heck! that sounds just like you!" said the lad, and he gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. "I wish, though," he added hesitatingly, "you'd be engaged to me before you leave!"

Betty's forehead puckered thoughtfully,—then she frankly answered. "Stanley, why do you say that again? It's no sense to be engaged when one is not in love. You know that I think just heaps of you—as a real, real brother. I'll never be in love—don't really know what that means,—so you ought to be satisfied."

"I suppose that I'll have to be," he returned with a sigh. "Well, we won't cry over it," he said smiling down on her, and giving his machine a little spurt. "May I escort you to the dance, to-night?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling back at him.

"That'll be some pleasure anyway—to take you to your 'farewell,'" he said happily.

Betty's eyes flashed merriment.

"I couldn't tell you how many I have said 'yes' to, when they have made the same request."

"Then I am to be one of a bunch?" he asked disappointedly.

"I belong to everyone—you said it, didn't you?"

"You're incorrigible, Betty!" was his hopeless answer.

* * * * *

Betty's farewell was a gay little affair. Men, women and children came, everyone bringing a piece of money, from a dime to a dollar, according to his or her means.

Betty was the centre of adoring friends, all wishing her "Godspeed" on her mission, and success in spreading the restored Gospel. And at this little party, there was no long-faced preaching done. Everyone was glad and smiling, and a "farewell" to a "Mormon" missionary, meant a child-like display of goodwill and brotherly love,—such as no other church on the face of God's earth, had yet begun to realize.

The young people made merry in their innocent happy way, and the spirit of true religion reigned over all,—not the spirit of lifeless piety!

The next day Betty was busy making preparations for departure the following day, and saying her "good-byes."

There were a number of calls she felt that she must make, on the old or sick, all of whom would be unhappy not to say good-bye to her,—for Ephraimites were all like one big family, and a loving relationship was really felt among its numbers.

As Betty passed through the streets, more than one honest man came up to her, and grasping her little soft hand in his large work-calloused one, wished her good luck in a husky voice, and offered her his hard earned dollar for her mission.

O you luke-warm, respectable churches of the world! Where or when did any of you possess whole congregations of Christians filled with the simplicity and ferver of Christ's Gospel as these rugged mountaineers? Why don't you hesitate before you open your doors to money-making anti-Mormon lecturers, to satisfy the morbid cravings of some of your people to hear the fantastic and obscene wanderings of Satanic minds! If angel hosts brought glad tidings to your church doors, how small a congregation would be yours! You poor struggling minister of the world! Does it never occur to you that the prophecy is being fulfilled?

"For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts will they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears." (I Tim. 4:3.)

You know that to fill your churches, you must have preachers lay aside simple Gospel truths, and entice the masses with the political excitement of the day, or the glamor of some rare literary achievements.

Who, in a great city like New York, ever prepared to attend a church service with the firm assurance that he would hear the Gospel of Christ preached? Thanks to some few conscientious unpopular preachers, we may attend some churches with that hope, but one will always find the "good" minister preaching to as many empty pews as listeners. Is it any wonder then, that the earnest, enthusiastic, "Mormon," coming to the great cities with nothing more exciting than the simple truth,—is it any wonder he is mocked, reviled and scorned? "Bring us something new and exciting or we don't want it!" cries the big city.

But Betty in her worldly ignorance, had yet to learn—she took the money offered to her with a heart filled with enthusiasm and love for the whole world. She thanked God for it all. Every penny helped her to take God's message to a "waiting world,"—she really believed that the world was waiting for the truth,—and was happy in the thought of being called to be the messenger. And so, between tears at partings and joy over her great mission, she found her feelings rather mixed and strange, as she boarded the train for the unknown East!

Friends waved her out of sight, prayers followed her from loving hearts, yet before her lay the great experience,—the knowledge of the world!