CALLED TO AUSTRALASIA—THE MODERN IMITATORS OF JOB'S FRIENDS—OUR "SPECIAL INSTRUCTION" IS TO "BUILD UP THE KINGDOM OF GOD IN THOSE LANDS"—A DISAPPOINTMENT ENDS IN A BLESSING—PROMISES BY AN APOSTLE WHICH WERE LITERALLY FULFILLED—WE REACH SYDNEY, AND I AM SEPARATED FROM MY COMPANION.

If a relation of my missionary experience can give to my young brethren and sisters one tithe of the strength and blessing which that experience itself imparted to me, I shall be more than repaid in relating it. From the reading of similar accounts by other Elders I have derived much benefit myself; but I realize that words are powerless to convey a full description of the events which befall every missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. No man can serve his Savior faithfully in distant lands, among strangers, without receiving and keeping constantly the Spirit of holiness, and without experiencing miraculous interpositions in his behalf. At the time of their occurrence they are subjects of wonder and thankfulness; but as years pass by, it becomes extremely difficult to put them into words so expressive that they do not seem either too fanciful for reality, or too cold to be interesting.

At the General Conference on April 8th, 1878, in company with Elder Fred. J. May, of Salt Lake, I was called to fill a mission in Australasia, comprising Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand. A strange circumstance attended this calling. For a week previous to the time that the public announcement was made, some of the authorities who had the matter in charge, and who had my name with the names of other missionaries, had been looking vainly for me, or for someone who knew me. Three separate times my name was called in public meeting, and a request for my attendance at the President's office was made known. I heard nothing of the matter, although probably scores of my friends and intimate acquaintances were present. But each one thought that I had either heard the notice myself, or would be told by someone else. At last, on Saturday evening, April 6th, 1878, I was informed that a meeting was to be held at the Council House, and that my presence was desired. I was then engaged in the old "Big Boot" shoe store in Salt Lake; and I dropped my work and hastened to the appointment, reaching the Council House just at the appointed hour. I found Brother John Van Cott there, and asked him what was wanted of me.

"Wanted of you?" he asked, in surprise.

"Yes, I was told that inquiry had been made for me in two or three meetings, and that I was wanted here to-night."

"Oh, are you the man? We have been hunting for you for a week. I have known you for years, but I had forgotten entirely who you were. We want to know if you are willing to take a mission. Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

At that moment Uncle Joseph Young came in; and Brother Van Cott turned to him and said:

"Uncle Joseph, here's the man we've been looking for so long."

After President Joseph had looked at me for a moment, he said:

"Young man, we want to know if you are willing to take a mission. If you have any excuses to make, though, you may take them to the President's office."

I replied, "Brother Young, I have no excuses to make. I will endeavor to go whenever I am wanted."

I have since been led to marvel, and to thank my Heavenly Father, that the authorities did not drop my name from the list of missionaries at that time, instead of persisting in the search for me. No doubt it has shaped my life, and given me a blessing which will endure beyond this mortality.

I could not be present in the Tabernacle on the following Monday when the call was made, and therefore did not know to what mission I was assigned, until some over-zealous friends rushed into the place where I was employed, and informed me that I was called to Australasia, and offered me their sympathy.

During the remainder of the week I was the recipient of innumerable condolences. One brother said to me:

"That is the hardest mission in the world. No Elders are there now, and some of the men who were last called to labor in that field—educated and experienced preachers—returned in ten months utterly discouraged, and reported that no satisfactory result could be accomplished in that region."

Another brother said:

"I would rather be called to go into Montana and preach to the miners."

Another said:

"As good a Mormon as I am, I would rather go to Purgatory and preach to the spirits in prison there than to take your mission, Thomas."

And finally another one (who has since suffered martyrdom in the penitentiary)—a prominent business man of Salt Lake, by the way—said:

"The kind of missionary needed in that land is a man like Orson Pratt;" implying very strongly that inexperienced persons like myself might better stay at home than to make a useless attempt to convert the cold and skeptical people in Australia and New Zealand to a knowledge of the gospel.

While I had made up my mind to endeavor, by the help of the Lord, to perform my duty; remarks of this kind could not help but make me despondent. I had been very much surprised, and somewhat shocked, I will confess, when the announcement was made to me of the nature of my mission; and these injudicious condolences intensified my self-distrust, and made me feel as if my trip would be anything but pleasant to myself and advantageous to the cause. But happily all my friends were not of this class. After a few days, and when I was beginning to feel considerably cast down, Elder John Van Cott met me, and said:

"Thomas, I hear that you have been having some of Job's friends to comfort you. Never mind, my boy; go and fill your mission, and you will be blessed in your labor. When I was called to go to Scandinavia I and others felt that it would be a hard mission for me—if not a useless one. But the Lord has wrought it into a blessing for me; because I can travel through the length and breadth of this Territory, and in every settlement I can find a friend."

Within a week after the time we were called, Brother May and myself went to the Council House to be set apart for our labor. Fifty-two Elders, I think, were there the same day to obtain their blessing. We were among the last. In fact all the others had received their ordination and had gone before any attention was paid to us. Apostles Charles C. Rich, Orson Pratt and Lorenzo Snow were there attending to this labor: and when the last of the other missionaries had departed, Brother Rich turned to me and said:

"Well, Thomas, you are going to quit selling shoes, and going to preach the gospel, are you?"

I answered, "Yes, sir; I shall try."

They enquired unto what mission we were called; and learning that we were going to distant and abandoned Australasia, they all expressed great interest in our welfare, and they sat down with us and talked very kindly for some little time.

I had watched the blessings of the other missionaries, and had noticed that the Apostles each took his turn in ordaining the young Elders to their calling. I was acquainted with Apostles Rich and Pratt, but not with Apostle Snow; and I earnestly desired that one of the two former should bless me. So I had located myself in the position where I thought Brother Rich would reach me in his turn. However, their visit with us had disarranged their plan; and when the conversation was ended one of them enquired:

"Whose turn is it to ordain this Elder?"

The result was that Brother Snow was called upon to ordain me. At the moment I was disappointed; for I realized how grave a responsibility I was going forth to meet, and I fancied I could gain greater strength and blessing under the hands of one of the Apostles with whom I had been acquainted for years, than under the hands of a stranger. But the result banished that disappointment. Brother Snow sensed our peculiar situation, and he blessed me with a power and spirit which thrilled my whole being. Before he had concluded his words the tears were coursing down my cheeks like rain. As if the words were uttered yesterday, I remember some promises which he made to me:

"From the moment that you leave these valleys until you return, the angels of the Almighty shall be with you. When you travel by land or by sea, though dangers may beset you on the right hand and on the left, the power of the Almighty shall protect you. Though death may stare you in the face, the angels of the Lord will warn you and shield you. Though the enemies of the truth may plot against you, their evil designs shall be made known to you by the angels of the Lord, and if you heed their warning you shall be protected. When even your brethren shall desert you and turn against you, and your way shall seem to be hedged up, you will find a blessing given you from the Lord, for He will be your friend. And you will see the day when you will have no friend with the power to aid you, other than your Heavenly Father, in all the land where you are sojourning. But we promise you that because of your faith you shall be brought triumphant through these tribulations, and shall be brought to your home again in safety and with the approbation of the Priesthood and the blessing of the Almighty. And you shall live to see the day when your labors in that far-off land will bear good fruit."

Every word of that prophetic blessing has been fulfilled in a most wonderful manner. I believe that the Lord put these things into Brother Snow's mind, and that He gave me these promises to comfort and sustain me; and that in the little disappointment which I felt at not receiving my blessing under the hands of Apostle Rich or Apostle Pratt, the Lord had really His own wise purpose to accomplish.

A week previous to the date fixed for our departure we were at President Taylor's office to learn if he had any special instruction for us. We hoped and expected that he would outline our work or that we might have some particular rule of guidance in that distant and lonely land. But the President's only word was:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the Kingdom of God there."

Three times we asked our question:

"Are there any special instructions for us?"

And three times we received the answer in the President's well-known impressive manner:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the Kingdom of God there."

Elder May looked at him with amazement in his eyes; and certainly if my face indicated my feeling, it betrayed the utmost surprise.

Was this all? President Taylor was the Prophet of God on earth; and we were inexperienced Elders going to a land nearly ten thousand miles away from home, to labor in a mission which had been abandoned by older and more learned men than we were. Naturally, we expected to hear what we must do when we reached Australia; how we must live; how approach the people; and how apportion our time to the various districts of that vast field.

And yet our interview was ended. President Taylor's manner and words—though very kind, and even fatherly, were decisive; and we withdrew in some disappointment. When we got out on the street we looked at each other in a most woe begone manner. I do not know when I felt more forlorn or helpless than at that hour.

But we lived and learned to bless that significant sentence, which President Taylor uttered in his wisdom, and by the inspiration of the Spirit. It became to us better, far better, than a book full of the "special instructions" which we had coveted. Whenever we were discouraged, or torn by doubt, or oppressed by fear; we had our guide:

"Build up the Kingdom of God in those lands!"

And prayer to God invariably showed us the right means to reach that result. If we had been dependent upon a certain method of gospel presentation, and less dependent upon our Heavenly Father, I am sure that we would not have been so greatly blessed as we were in our labors.

We left Zion on Tuesday, May 7th, 1878; and sailed from San Francisco on Monday, May 13th, 1878, on the steamer, City of Sydney. We took steerage passage, and found ourselves in a motley crowd. There were about fifty white passengers and one hundred and twenty-five Chinamen in this part of the ship, and we had a perfect Babel. The Chinamen kept up their own interminable chattering. And among the whites were Welshmen, Irishmen, Scotchmen, Jew, Gentile, Infidel: representatives of every race and of every sect. We even had a dynamiter on board—a person who claimed friendship with the notorious O'Donovan Rossa of New York.

The first port we made was Honolulu; where we met Elder Henry P. Richards, of Salt Lake, and Elder Woodbury, of St. George. They took us to the houses of the Saints, and we had a dinner of poi and salt fish, "luxuries" which I tried my best to appreciate.

On Sunday, June 2nd, we passed Sunday Island, in the South Pacific. That night we retired to rest about ten o'clock. After eight hours sleep we arose—and found that it was Tuesday morning at six o'clock. We had sailed across the line which marks the beginning of the day, and had lost our twenty-four hours. I greatly regretted this loss of Monday, and never felt entirely reconciled to it during the two years that I was away. Fortunately for my peace of mind, on our return we made two Fridays on the same spot; and I allowed my gain of Friday to cancel my loss of Monday.

We entered Auckland harbor on Wednesday, June 5th; and sailed into Sydney Bay at half past two o'clock on Wednesday morning a week later.

We remained in the lower bay during quarantine examination; and later in the morning the City of Sidney steamed up to the central quay, arriving at her birth about eleven o'clock. Several hundred people were on the shore awaiting the arrival of the steamer. They were all complete strangers to me, and I did not expect anyone to meet us. But I saw in the crowd one man whom I instantly knew to be a member of the Church. I turned to point him out to Brother May, but found my companion absent. However, I watched this man attentively, feeling certain that he had come to find us, and that he was one of our brethren. The event proved my supposition to be correct. When he came on board the vessel he asked the steward for two passengers by the name of May and Shreeve. As soon as he spoke I stepped up to him and told him that I was one of the persons wanted. We shook hands; and I found him to be Brother J. Nichols.

We went to his house in Sydney, and were very kindly received. During the next several days we were engaged in a reorganization of the branch, which had become somewhat demoralized by neglect and by inattention of members.

On the 16th day of July, Elder May went to Melbourne; and we did not meet again for more than two years. It was not in our original plan to be separated for so long a time; but subsequent circumstances made that lengthy separation apparently necessary. When we looked over the field after reorganizing the Sydney Branch we discovered that it was entirely too large for us to cover within a reasonable time, if we remained together; and, though we disliked to part company, we felt that by taking separate fields we could cover twice as much ground in a given length of time as by both traveling together. We therefore arranged that Brother May should go down to Melbourne, where he had some relatives, and thence to Tasmania; while I should remain in New South Wales until the following December. About the close of the year we should both go to New Zealand and together visit the branch of the Church there, and endeavor to enlarge the work in that locality. But this plan, for good reasons, was never consummated entirely; and I was parted from the companion whom I had learned to love, and who was the only close friend that I could hope to have on earth in that Hemisphere—from the time of his departure from Sydney until the hour when I set foot on the steamer's deck to return home.