LABOR WHICH BROUGHT LITTLE COMPENSATION—A MYSTERIOUS CALL TO NEW ZEALAND—ATTACKED BY AN EVIL SPIRIT—THE VISITATION THRICE REPEATED—MEETING THE BROTHER OF A FRIEND—ON BOARD THE "WAKATIPU," BOUND FOR NEW ZEALAND.

I felt very lonely after Brother May's departure. The next day, feeling extremely despondent, I walked out to Bondi, a point overlooking the great ocean. There I knelt down among the rocks and prayed most fervently to the Lord for comfort and help through all my trials. I derived such consolation from the communion with my Heavenly Father that I have ever since felt anxious to advise my younger brethren who go on missions, to frequently seek retired spots and there offer devotion to God and supplication for His blessing.

I then engaged in the work of visiting in Sydney and its suburbs; and succeeded in finding several persons who had once been members of the Church. It was our hope to reunite these persons with the Church and get them to renew their covenants and prepare sometime for emigration to Zion; but the majority of them were hardened. The people of New South Wales had no desire to hear or obey the gospel. Many of those who had once had membership in the Church had become Josephites, and these and all the others felt that they needed no rebaptism at our hands, for they were quite good enough without.

Although I labored willingly, and even anxiously, in this region, I never felt peaceful and contented in the city of Sydney. The very hour that I landed there, I felt a weight upon my shoulders as if something were pressing me to the earth. I was as conscious of that weight as if it had really been something physically tangible; and even when I was at the house of Brother Nichols, where we received very kind treatment, I could not rid myself of this sensation. It was only when I could get away from the city itself that I could feel at all light-hearted. I often wondered why I felt so ill at ease in Sydney, and why I could not gain greater contentment when visiting with the family of Brother Nichols there; but this matter was later solved to my understanding, if not to my satisfaction.

Not long after I was left alone I had a strange dream concerning my labors. I thought that I was called to take a mission to the East. The idea was very vivid in my mind, though no steps or time seemed to have been made clear to me. When I awoke, I thought upon the matter, and interpreted it as meaning that, after my return to Zion, I should have another mission—probably to Europe. With this view I attempted to dismiss the matter from my mind; but I found the effort futile. The idea remained persistently with me for three or four days; and then one afternoon when I took up a book and sought to read, suddenly the printed lines were blurred from me, and these words started out from the page:

"You must go to New Zealand."

I rubbed my eyes, astonished, and looked again. The words had disappeared, and for a few moments I was able to read the book. But again these words came upon the page, shutting out the printed lines from my sight:

"You are wanted in New Zealand."

This strange thing was repeated again and again. But I did not permit myself to accept it as a requirement; because I remembered the definite understanding which I had made with Brother May concerning my labors in New South Wales, and the date of our mutual journey to New Zealand in December or January following. I dropped the book for a time, and then picked it up again. The strange appearance of this command was repeated. Not only on this day and with this book did I experience this wondrous manifestation; but day after day with any book or newspaper which I attempted to read, was the appearance repeated. Not understanding that this was a command to me which I ought to obey; and feeling in a measure bound by my agreement with my companion, I could not, despite all these repeated instructions, bring myself to a compliance with it. But soon the warning took another and a stronger form, and hastened my departure, while explaining to me the strange weight which I had felt upon me in Sydney.

One day I went to Ashfield, one of the environs of Sydney, to visit Brother William Armstrong, who resided there with his family. I returned in the afternoon, feeling somewhat weary, and lay down upon a lounge in the front room of Brother Nichols' house. His wife was gossiping with a neighbor in her jocular Irish way, and I felt somewhat amused in listening to her.

Suddenly I felt myself borne down by a strange and awful power. It weighed upon my bosom and seemed to be crushing me, while it pressed also upon my mouth and threw my head over the top of the lounge. The pressure upon my face was as distinct as if it had been made by a sinewy hand pressing a cloth tightly over my mouth and nose. In the first excitement my heart beat very rapidly, and then stopped, motionless. I struggled to release myself, even reaching out with one hand and seizing the edge of the lounge, intending to draw myself down to the floor. Every effort was unavailing, and it seemed to me that I was losing myself and must soon die, if I could not obtain relief. Then the thought came to me to pray, and I cried in my inmost soul:

"Oh, Lord! help me!"

No sooner had this petition passed in thought through my mind than I was instantly released. I sprang to my feet, trembling with fear and suffering, but I made no cry and gave no explanation to those who were present.

The sensation which I experienced at the time I was in the grasp of this power was as distinctly painful as any physical suffering I ever endured, and more intense than any ordinary physical pain can be. I wondered at it, as I had not been subject to such attacks; I even bit my finger to see if I were really awake, thinking that possibly I might be in a dream. But I found it all too real. Searching my mind for some explanation, I concluded that as I had returned to the house hungry and worried, I had possibly taken too much dinner. And with this unsatisfactory explanation I forced myself to be content for the time.

A few days later I determined to fast; and in the course of the day I went to the Botanical Gardens. Upon my return, feeling somewhat faint and tired, I again lay down upon the couch. In a few minutes the awful influence once more seized me—this time with even greater power than before. I was affrighted and helpless. In the midst of my dreadful physical pain and mental torture came the realization that I was in the grasp of an evil spirit. This sudden knowledge intensified my torture. For some seconds—it seemed to me an age, my heart stood still. I felt myself slipping away, but could not move nor cry aloud. Once more the inspiration came to me to pray, and I called upon my Heavenly Father for help. At once the influence departed, and I sprang to my feet weak and trembling. I felt every hair on my head standing upright.

I recalled the description given by Joseph Smith of the darkness which enveloped him when he first prayed in the woods for light; and I knew that I had experienced in some slight degree the same torment which he encountered on that occasion. I remembered that the Prophet spoke of giving up under the torture that he was suffering, and of his being saved by the power of God just at the moment when he felt himself slipping away into death and perdition. This, though undoubtedly in a greatly moderated degree, was my own experience.

After this the feeling that I must go to New Zealand was borne irresistibly. The last emphatic warning had shown me that Sydney was no place for me at this hour, and that I must heed the commandments which were given to me. Accordingly, I purchased a ticket for Port Littleton, distant about twelve hundred miles from Sydney.

The steamer by which I was to sail would not leave for a week, but I could not rest easy until I had secured my passage. The vessel was called the Wakatipu, from two Maori words, waka, meaning canoe, and tipu, meaning goods; the union signifying a canoe or ship to carry goods.

After purchasing this ticket the feeling of anxiety and unrest which had possessed me departed, and I felt quite content in the full consciousness that I was now in the line of my duty; but I still had a dread of the evil influences which I now knew abounded in Sydney and inhabited the house at which I was staying.

When now I took up a book or a newspaper I could see the words as distinctly as ever, and was no more visited by the commandment which had been so manifest on other occasions.

The couch on which I had lain when seized by these dark powers was my own bed at night, and I had not been troubled in the evening. But from the hour of the second seizure I religiously avoided sitting or reclining upon the lounge in the day-time. I had a strong horror of sleeping upon this couch at night, but I had no alternative; and solaced myself by constant prayer and humility before the Lord, asking to be protected from the assaults of the adversary.

Previous to taking my departure for New Zealand I went out to Ashfield to bid Brother Armstrong and his family farewell. Again I returned late in the evening. I thoughtlessly threw myself upon the couch, and almost in the very second I was seized by the destroyer. The experience was the same as on the other occasions, except that it was much more powerful and painful. I believed for a moment that I must die; but once more I was restored by my prayer to heaven. The sensations I suffered in these seizures I never can forget. To speak of them even at this hour causes a chill of horror to pass over my being, and as a rule I feel a dreadful pain attacking my heart.

I did not speak of these experiences to anyone in Sydney, nor to anyone else for a long time. I was inexperienced in these matters, and I thought it wise to keep my own counsel. But nearly a year afterward I received a letter from Brother May, who had returned to Sydney and had stopped at the house of Brother Nichols, while I was in New Zealand. He had occupied as a bed the couch whereon I had slept; and he informed me that he had been seized by evil spirits in the night, dragged from his bed, and tortured. After this reinforcement of my own views I wrote to Brother May, informing him of what had occurred at the house on three separate occasions when I was lying upon that couch. I felt then that not only was the city of Sydney an oppressive place for the Elders, but that the house where we had stopped, though occupied by a man who professed the faith, offered a welcome to evil influences. Such an opinion was substantiated later when Nichols and his wife turned Brother May out of the house, and then apostatized and joined the Josephites.

Although they had treated me very kindly I always felt under a restraint when I was on their premises; and the event showed that they preferred association with the powers of darkness to the friendship and company of the Elders of the Church.

Mrs. Nichols and her eldest son are dead; and the man, if alive, leads what I imagine must be a lonely and unsatisfactory life. I am convinced that he knows the gospel to be true; for I have had proof that he possesses this knowledge. Realizing this, I imagine that his mind must be in a dreadful state of remorse and anxiety.

The day before I was to take the steamer Wakatipu I went to the post office at Sydney to mail some letters. While standing at the stamp window a man walked quickly up through the crowd, thrust a paper under my face into the window, and cried:

"Foreign stamp—quick, please!"

He laid the paper down, and I saw the address upon it. To my amazement it was:

"JOHN ALFORD,
Salt Lake City, Utah Territory, U.S.A."

I looked at the gentleman and said:—

"I beg pardon, sir; but do you know the gentleman to whom you are sending this paper?"

"Yes, sir. My brother, sir. Do you know him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Meet me here at twelve o'clock."

And with these words he was gone like a flash.

It was then eleven o'clock and I had an hour to wait. I strolled around for a short time, and promptly at twelve o'clock I was on the veranda of the post office, awaiting the coming of the very abrupt gentleman. On the stroke of the hour he dodged between the pillars of the veranda, rushed through the crowd, and beckoned me to him. Then he started at a rapid rate down the street, and I followed. After going a short distance he turned and asked me:

"Had your dinner?"

"No, sir."

"Come along, then."

We entered the Free Mason Hotel, the dining room of which was crowded. Seating ourselves at a table he gave his order for a beefsteak; and I was too good a Britisher to refuse the same.

While we were waiting, he asked if I were acquainted with his brother. I answered that I was, having worked for the same institution which employed him, for a number of years.

At his request I gave him such information as I possessed about Brother John Alford and his family, and by this time the steaks were ready, and he proceeded to eat his hurriedly.

I saw there was no time for talking, unless I wished to lose my dinner, so I plied knife and fork vigorously. When we were through he paid the charge, and we walked out.

Then he asked how long I had been in Australia. I answered:

"About two months."

"How long shall you stay?"

"Until to-morrow at one o'clock, when I leave for New Zealand by the steamer Wakatipu."

"Are you a Mormon Elder?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you travel like my brother did when he was preaching in England what you folks call the gospel—without purse or scrip?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is a very strange faith you people have. He never did any work while he was in England preaching, but he could go anywhere he wanted to go—while I, who was always working, never had either time or money to go anywhere. Curious, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir—our faith is a strange one to the world. But we are placed in such a position that we have learned to rely upon God, our Eternal Father, whose gospel we are preaching. We know that while we are executing His commands, He will provide the means."

Mr. Alford shook his head incredulously, and muttered:

"Queer faith—strange faith—I can't see it. I am busy now. Come to-morrow at twelve o'clock. I will meet you at the post office. I want to see you."

I replied:

"I must leave at one o'clock. I will scarcely have time to meet you."

"Nonsense! Come. That steamer won't sail before four or five o'clock."

Promptly at the appointed time the next day I was at the post office, and again met Mr. Alford. He shook me warmly by the hand and said:

"I expect, young man, you haven't got very much money."

"You are right," I answered.

In purchasing my ticket to Littleton I had expended my last shilling. My destination was the town of Rangiora, some distance from Port Littleton, and I needed means to pay my fare to that place.

Mr. Alford pressed ten shillings in my hand, at the same time saying:

"I do not understand how you folks can travel without purse or scrip."

I could have explained to him how his ten shillings had relieved me, and enabled me to fulfill the commands of my Master; but I saw that he was a business man—skeptical and unapproachable to the message which I was bearing to the world, and I made no attempt to encroach further upon his time.

I went on board the vessel during the afternoon, and felt that I was obeying the sacred behest which had been so often and so mysteriously repeated to me in Sydney. But the adversary seemed determined to cling to me and to fill my mind with evil thoughts. I tried to banish sadness by gazing from the deck of the moving vessel at the beautiful city of Sydney and the still more beautiful bay. But the effort was vain; my prevailing emotion was one of despondency. The ship, the receding lands, the sea into which we were passing—all seemed so vast; and I seemed such a lonely mite, that I could not find comfort in that hour.

Gradually, as the night came on, the shores grew indistinct. Only a myriad of lights twinkled out to show where the city lay. From vessels riding at anchor or moving up the bay to moor after their long voyages, came shouts of masters and songs of men. The azure depths of sky and sea held each its countless stars. But the beauty of the scene only made me more impressionable to melancholy; and I took one long farewell look at the light-dotted city and the light-dotted bay—lovely beyond description—and then went below.

I have never seen Sydney since that lonely hour.