Marriage and United Labors

«August 30, 1846, I was married to Elder James White. In a few months we attended a conference in Topsham, Maine. Elder Joseph Bates was present. He did not then fully believe that my visions were of God. It was a meeting of much interest; but I was suddenly taken ill and fainted. The brethren prayed for me, and I was restored to consciousness. The Spirit of God rested upon us in Brother C.’s humble dwelling, and I was wrapt in a vision of God’s glory, and for the first time had a view of other planets. After I came out of vision I related what I had seen. Elder B. then asked if I had studied astronomy. I told him I had no recollection of ever looking into an astronomy. Said he, ‘This is of the Lord.’ I never saw him as free and happy before. His countenance shone with the light of heaven, and he exhorted the church with power.

«I was shown that I would be much afflicted, and that we would have a trial of our faith on our return to Gorham, where my parents had moved. On our return I was taken very sick, and suffered extremely. My parents, husband and sisters, united in prayer for me; but I suffered on for three weeks. Our neighbors thought I could not live. I often fainted like one dead, but in answer to prayer revived again. My agony was such that I plead with those around me not to pray for me, for I thought their prayers were protracting my sufferings. Brother and Sister Nichols, of Dorchester, Mass., heard of my afflictions, and their son Henry visited us, bringing things for my comfort. My sufferings increased until every breath came with a groan. The neighbors gave me up to die. Many prayers had been offered to God in my behalf, yet it pleased the Lord to try our faith. After others had prayed, Brother Henry commenced praying, and seemed much burdened, and with the power of God resting upon him, rose from his knees, came across the room, and laid his hands upon my head, saying, ‘Sister Ellen, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole,’ and fell back prostrated by the power of God. I believed that the work was of God, and the pain left me. My soul was filled with gratitude and peace. The language of my heart was, There is no help for us but in God. We cannot be in peace only as we rest in him and wait for his salvation.

«The next day there was a severe storm, and none of the neighbors came to our house. I was able to be up in the sitting room. And as some saw the windows of my room raised they supposed I was not living. They knew not that the Great Physician had graciously entered the dwelling, rebuked the disease, and set me free. The next day we rode thirty-eight miles to Topsham. Inquiries were made of my father, at what time the funeral would be. Father asked, ‘What funeral?’ ‘Why, the funeral of your daughter.’ Father replied, ‘She has been healed by the prayer of faith, and is on her way to Topsham.’

«Soon we took passage in the steamboat at Portland for Boston. The boat rolled fearfully, and the waves dashed into the cabin windows. The large chandelier fell to the floor with a crash. The tables were set for breakfast, but the dishes were thrown upon the floor. There was a great fear in the ladies’ cabin. Many were confessing their sins, and crying to God for mercy. Some were calling upon the Virgin Mary to keep them, while others were making solemn vows to God that if they reached land they would devote their lives to his service. It was a scene of terror and confusion. As the boat rocked, one lady above me fell out of her berth to the floor, crying out at the top of her voice. Another turned to me and asked, ‘Are you not terrified? I suppose it is a fact that we may never reach land.’ I told her I had made Christ my refuge, and if my work was done, I might as well lie in the bottom of the ocean as in any other place; but if my work was not done, all the waters of the ocean could not drown me. My trust was in God, that he would bring us safe to land if it was for his glory.

«At this time I prized the Christian’s hope. This scene brought vividly to my mind the day of the Lord’s fierce anger, when the storm of his wrath will come upon the poor sinner. Then there will be bitter cries, tears and confession of sin, and pleading for mercy when it will be too late. ‘Because I have called and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded, but ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof, I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh.’ Through the mercy of God we were all landed safe. But some of the passengers who manifested much fear in the storm made no reference to it only to make light of their fears. The one who had so solemnly promised that if she was preserved to see land she would be a Christian, as she left the boat mockingly cried out, ‘Glory to God, I am glad to step on land again.’ I asked her to go back a few hours, and remember her vows to God. She turned from me with a sneer.

«I was forcibly reminded of death-bed repentance. Some who serve themselves and Satan all their lives, as sickness subdues them, and a fearful uncertainty is before them, manifest some sorrow for sin, and perhaps say they are willing to die, and their friends make themselves believe that they have been truly converted and fitted for heaven. But if these should recover they would be as rebellious as ever. I am reminded of Prov. 1: 27,28: ‘When your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you, then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.’

«August 26, 1847, our eldest son, Henry Nichols White, was born. In October Brother and Sister Howland kindly offered us a part of their dwelling which we gladly accepted, and commenced house-keeping with borrowed furniture. We were poor and saw close times. My husband worked at hauling stone on the railroad, which wore the skin on his fingers through, and the blood started in many places. We had resolved not to be dependent, but to support ourselves, and have wherewith to help others. But we were not prospered. My husband worked very hard, but could not get what was due him for his labor. Brother and Sister H. freely divided with us whenever they could; but they were in close circumstances. They fully believed the first and second messages, and had generously imparted of their substance to forward the work, until they were dependent on their daily labor.

«My husband left the railroad, and with his axe went into the woods to chop cord-wood. With a continual pain in his side he worked from early morning till dark to earn about fifty cents a day. He was prevented from sleeping nights by severe pain. We endeavored to keep up good courage and trust in the Lord. I did not murmur. In the morning I felt grateful to God that he had preserved us through another night, and at night I was thankful that he had kept us through another day. One day when our provisions were gone, husband went to his employer to get money or provisions. It was a stormy day, and he walked three miles and back in the rain, passing through the village of Brunswick, where he had often lectured, carrying a bag of provisions on his back, tied in different apartments. As he entered the house very weary my heart sunk within me. My first feelings were that God had forsaken us. I said to my husband, Have we come to this? Has the Lord left us? I could not restrain my tears, and wept aloud for hours until I fainted. Prayer was offered in my behalf. When I breathed again, I felt the cheering influence of the Spirit of God. I regretted that I had sunk under discouragement. We desire to follow Christ and be like him; but we sometimes faint beneath trials and remain at a distance from him. Sufferings and trials bring us nigh to Jesus. The furnace consumes the dross and brightens the gold.

«At this time I was shown that the Lord had been trying us for our good, and to prepare us to labor for others; that he had been stirring up our nest, lest we should settle down in ease, and that our work was to labor for souls; that if we had been prospered, home would be so pleasant that we would be unwilling to leave it to travel, and that we had been suffering trial to prepare us for still greater conflicts that we would suffer in our travels. We soon received letters from brethren in different States inviting us to come and visit them; but we had no means to take us out of the State. Our reply was that the way was not open before us. I thought that it would be impossible for me to travel with my child, and that we did not wish to be dependent, and were careful to live within our means. We were resolved to suffer rather than get in debt. I allowed myself and child one pint of milk each day. One morning before my husband went to his work he left me nine cents to buy milk for three mornings. It was quite a study with me whether to buy the milk for myself and child or get an apron for him. I gave up the milk, and purchased the cloth for an apron to cover the bare arms of my child.

«But little Henry was soon taken very sick, and grew worse so fast that we were much alarmed. He lay in a stupid state. His breathing was quick and heavy. We gave remedies with no success. We called in one of experience, who said he was a very sick child, and that his recovery was doubtful. We had prayed for him, but there was no change. We had made the child an excuse for not traveling and laboring for the good of others, and we feared the Lord was about to remove him. Once more we went before the Lord, praying that he would have compassion upon us, and if the child was to be taken from us in wrath, because we had not been willing to travel, to spare the life of the child, and we would go forth trusting in him wherever he might send us.

«Our petitions were fervent and agonizing. By faith we claimed the promises of God. We believed the child would recover. From that hour he began to amend. Light from heaven was breaking through the clouds, and shining upon us again. Hope revived. Our prayers were graciously answered. Sister Frances Howland offered to take care of the child, while we should lie down for an hour’s rest. It was daylight when we awoke. The child had slept sweetly through the night, and was fast recovering.

«While at Topsham we received a letter from Brother Chamberlain of Connecticut, urging us to attend a conference in that State. We decided to go if we could obtain means. Husband settled with his employer, and found that there was ten dollars due him. With five of this I purchased articles of clothing which we much needed, and then patched my husband’s overcoat, even piecing the patches, making it difficult to tell the original cloth in the sleeves. We had five dollars left to take us to Dorchester. Our trunk contained nearly everything we possessed on earth. We enjoyed peace of mind and a clear conscience, and this we prized above earthly comforts. We called at the house of Brother Nichols, and as we left, Sister N. handed my husband five dollars, which paid our fare to Middletown, Conn. We were strangers in that city, and had never seen one of the brethren in the State. We had but fifty cents left. My husband did not dare to use that to hire a carriage, so he threw the trunk upon a pile of boards, and we walked on in search of some one of like faith. We soon found Brother C. who took us to his house.

«The conference was held at Rocky Hill, in the large, unfinished chamber of Brother Belden’s house. I will here give an extract of a letter from my husband to Brother Howland respecting that meeting. ‘April 20, Brother B. sent his wagon to Middletown for us and the scattered brethren in that city. We arrived at this place about four in the afternoon, and in a few minutes, in came Brethren Bates and Gurney. We had a meeting that evening of about fifteen. Friday morning the brethren came in until we numbered about fifty. These were not all fully in the truth. Our meeting that day was very interesting. Brother Bates presented the commandments in a clear light, and their importance was urged home by powerful testimonies. The word had effect to establish those already in the truth, and to awaken those who were not fully decided.’

«Soon after this we were invited to attend a conference at Volney, N. Y., August, 1848. Two years before this I had been shown that we should visit New York at some future time. Brother Edson wrote that the brethren were generally poor, and that he could not promise that they would do much toward defraying our expenses. We had no means to travel with. My husband was suffering with dyspepsia, and his diet was very spare. But the way opened for him to get work in the field to mow hay. It seemed then that we must live by faith. When we arose in the morning we bowed beside our bed, and asked God to give us strength to labor through the day. We would not be satisfied unless we had the assurance that the Lord heard us pray. My husband then went forth to swing the scythe, not in his own strength, but in the strength of the Lord. At night when he came home, we would again plead with God for strength to earn means to spread his truth. We were often greatly blessed. I will give an extract from a letter he wrote to Brother Howland, July 2, 1848.

«‘It is rainy to-day so that I do not mow, or I should not write. I mow five days for unbelievers, and Sunday for believers, and rest on the seventh day, therefore I have but very little time to write. God gives me strength to labor hard all day. Praise the Lord! I hope to get a few dollars to use in his cause.’ Again he wrote to Brother H. July 23: ‘We have suffered from labor, fatigue, pain, hunger, cold, and heat, while endeavoring to do our brethren and sisters good, and we hold ourselves ready to suffer more if God requires. I rejoice to-day that ease, pleasure and comfort in this life are a sacrifice on the altar of my faith and hope. If our happiness consists in making others happy we are happy indeed. The true disciple will not live to gratify beloved self, but for Christ, and for the good of his little ones. He is to sacrifice his ease, his pleasure, his comfort, his convenience, his will, and his own selfish wishes for Christ’s cause, or never reign with him on his throne.’

«My husband earned forty dollars in the hay field. With a part of this we purchased some clothing, and had means left to take us to Western New York and to return. I had been troubled with a pain in my lungs and a severe cough, but I believed the Lord would give me strength to endure the long journey. We left our little Henry, then ten months old, in Sister Bonfoey’s care at Middletown. This was a severe trial to me. I had not been separated from him before for one night. My health was poor, and it was impossible for me to travel and have the care of our child, and we dared not let our affection for the child keep us from the path of duty. Jesus laid down his life to save us. How small is any sacrifice we can make compared with his. We took the steamboat for New York City. On board the boat I coughed almost incessantly. Remarks were made as follows: ‘That cough will carry her to the grave-yard. She cannot live long.’ Some said that I would not live to see New York. But I knew in whom I believed. He that had bid me go would give me relief when it would best glorify him. One word from him would heal my irritated throat and lungs.

«The next morning we reached New York City, and called upon Brother Moody. We there met Brethren Bates and Gurney. My cough increased. I knew I must have relief soon. I had not had a good night’s rest for weeks. I followed the directions given in the fifth chapter of James, and asked the brethren to pray for me. They prayed earnestly, but as often as I attempted to pray I was broken off by severe coughing. I relied upon the promise of God, ‘Ask, and ye shall receive.’ I tried to tell those present that I believed, but severe coughing prevented my speaking. I retired to rest trusting in the Lord. I commenced coughing as usual, but soon fell asleep, and did not awake till daylight. I then awoke with gratitude in my heart, and the praise of God on my lips. I felt the blessing of Heaven resting upon me. My cough was gone. In the morning my friends noticed a pimple on my face which increased and spread and did not leave me for several years. I was not troubled again with a cough on that journey.

«Our first conference in Western New York was at Volney in Brother Arnold’s barn. There were about thirty-five present, all that could be collected in that part of the State, but there were hardly two agreed. Each was strenuous for his views, declaring that they were according to the Bible. All were anxious for an opportunity to advance their sentiments and preach to us. They were told that we had not come so great a distance to hear them, but we had come to teach them the truth. Brother Arnold held that the one thousand years of the twentieth chapter of the Revelation were in the past, and that the one hundred and forty-four thousand of the Revelation were those raised at Christ’s resurrection. And as we had the emblems of our dying Lord before us, and were about to commemorate his sufferings, Brother A. arose and said he had no faith in what we were about to do, that the Lord’s supper was a continuation of the passover to be observed but once a year.

«These strange differences of opinion rolled a heavy weight upon me, especially as Brother A. spoke of the one thousand years being in the past. I knew that he was in error, and great grief pressed my spirits, as it seemed to me that God was dishonored, and I fainted under the burden. Brethren Bates, Chamberlain, Gurney, Edson and my husband, prayed for me. Some feared I was dying. But the Lord heard the prayers of his servants, and I revived. The light of Heaven rested upon me. I was soon lost to earthly things. My accompanying angel presented before me some of the errors of those present, and also the truth in contrast with their errors, that these discordant views which they claimed to be according to the Bible were only according to their opinion of the Bible, and that they must yield their errors and unite upon the third angel’s message. Our meeting ended victoriously. Truth gained the victory. Those who held the strange diversity of errors there confessed them and united upon the third angel’s message of present truth, and God greatly blessed them and added many to their numbers.

«From Volney we went to Port Gibson to attend a meeting in Brother Edson’s barn. There were those present who loved the truth but were listening to, and cherishing error. But the Lord wrought for us in power before the close of that meeting. I was again shown in vision the importance of the brethren in Western New York laying their differences aside, and uniting upon Bible truth. When we left Brother Edson’s we intended to spend the next Sabbath in New York City. But we were too late for the packet, so we took a line boat, designing to change when the next packet came along. And as we saw the packet approaching we commenced making preparations to step aboard; but the packet did not stop, and we had to spring aboard while the boat was in motion. Brother Bates was holding the money for our fare in his hand, saying to the captain of the boat, ‘Here, take your pay.’ As he saw the boat moving off he sprang to get aboard, but his foot struck the edge of the boat, and he fell back into the water. He then commenced swimming to the boat, with his pocket-book in one hand and a dollar bill in the other. His hat came off, and in saving it he lost the bill, but held fast his pocketbook. The packet halted for him to get aboard. but his clothes were wet with the dirty water of the canal, and as we were near Centerport, we decided to call at the home of Brother Harris, and put them in order. Our visit proved a benefit to that family. Sister H. had been a sufferer for years with catarrh. She had used snuff for this affliction and said she could not live without it. She suffered much pain in her head. We recommended her to go to the Lord, the Great Physician, who would heal her affliction. She decided to do so, and we had a season of prayer for her. She left the use of snuff entirely. Her difficulties were greatly relieved, and her health from that time was better than it had been for years.

«While at Brother Harris’ I had an interview with a sister who wore gold, and yet professed to be looking for Christ’s coming. We spoke of the express declarations of Scripture against it. But she referred to where Solomon was commanded to beautify the temple, and to the statement that the streets of the city of God were pure gold. She said that if we could improve our appearance by wearing gold so as to have influence in the world it was right. I replied that we were poor fallen mortals, and instead of decorating these bodies because Solomon’s temple was gloriously adorned, we should remember our fallen condition, and that it cost the sufferings and death of the Son of God to redeem us. This should cause in us self-abasement. Jesus is our pattern. If he would lay aside his humiliation and sufferings, and cry, If any man will come after me, let him please himself, and enjoy the world, and he shall be my disciple, the multitude would believe, and follow him. But Jesus will come to us in no other character than the meek, crucified One. If we would be with him in heaven, we must be like him on earth. The world will claim its own, and whoever will overcome, must leave what belongs to it.

«We took the packet on our way to Madison county, N. Y. It left us within twenty-five miles of Brother Abbey’s. Here we hired a carriage to complete the journey. It was Friday when we arrived at the house, and it was proposed that one should go to the door and make inquiries, so that if we should be disappointed in receiving a welcome we could return with the driver, and keep the Sabbath at a public house. Sister Abbey came to the door, and my husband introduced himself as one who kept the Sabbath. Said she, ‘I am glad to see you. Come in.’ He replied, ‘There are three more in the carriage with me. I thought if we all came in together, we might frighten you.’ ‘I am never frightened at Christians,’ was the reply. Heartily were we welcomed by Sister A. and her family. She expressed much joy at seeing us, and when Brother Bates was introduced she said, ‘Can this be Brother Bates who wrote that hewing book on the Sabbath? And come to see us? I am unworthy to have you come under my roof. But the Lord has sent you to us, for we are all starving for the truth.’

«A child was sent to the field to inform Brother Abbey that four Sabbath-keepers had come. He was in no hurry, however, to make our acquaintance, for he had previously been imposed upon by some who had often visited them, professing to be God’s servants, but whose work was to scatter error among the little flock who were trying to hold fast the truth. Brother and Sister A. had warred against them so long that they dreaded to come in contact with them. Brother A. thought we were of the same class. When he came into the house he received us coldly, and then commenced asking a few plain, direct questions, whether we kept the Sabbath and believed the past messages to be of God. When he had become satisfied that we had come with truth, he joyfully welcomed us. This dear family were just coming out from the furnace of affliction. They had been visited with that dreadful scourge, small-pox, and were just recovering.

«While we were there, we had an exhibition of some of the trials they had passed through from those visiting them who made great pretensions, but were Satan’s agents to worry and devour. A spiritualizer came in, and talked in such a fanatical and blasphemous manner that it was painful to hear him. He at last declared himself to be Jesus Christ, and that there would be no literal, personal appearing of Jesus. My spirit was stirred within me. I could hold my peace no longer. I told him that my Saviour did not bear such a disgusting appearance as he manifested. Then I described the lovely person of Jesus, his glorious appearance in the clouds of heaven, as he comes to earth the second time; with what majesty and power he rides forth upon the cloudy chariot, escorted by all the angelic host, and with the glory of the Father. He grew angry, and raised his umbrella as if to strike me. He was vehement. In great rage he left the house, showering denunciations upon us as he went. But a sweet spirit rested upon us.

«Our meetings in that place were cheering to the few who loved the truth. We felt to rejoice that the Lord in his providence had directed us that way. We enjoyed the presence of God together, and were comforted to find a few who had stood firm all through the scattering time, and held fast the messages through the mist and fog of spiritualizing and fanaticism. This dear family helped us on our way after a godly sort. We continued our journey to Brooklyn, and held meetings in Brother Moody’s house.

«Thursday afternoon, we were to take the boat for Middletown, Conn. It was our last opportunity to get to our appointment at Rocky Hill, unless we should travel on the Sabbath. We had a season of prayer before leaving. All present did not realize that the boat would not wait for us, and the season of prayer was made too long for the occasion, and we had but a few moments to get to the boat. I took my husband’s arm, and we ran about a mile to reach the boat. Brethren Gurney and Bates were on the boat waiting for us. The captain was about to withdraw the plank, when Brother Bates interceded, telling him that he had friends that were detained, and he must wait a few moments. He was prevailed upon to wait five minutes. He then declared he would not wait another moment. Just then we appeared in sight. Brother Bates cried out, ‘They are coming! They must go on the boat to-night! You must wait!’ We sprung upon the plank as it was being withdrawn, the boat started, and we were on our way.

«At Middletown we met Sister Bonfoey and our little Henry. My child grew feeble. We had used simple herbs, but they had no effect. The neighbors who came in said we could not keep him long, for he would die with consumption. One advised us to use one medicine, another something else. But it did not affect the child favorably. Finally he could take no nourishment. Townsend’s Sarsaparilla was recommended as the last resort. We concluded to try it. We could send by a friend to Hartford that day, and must decide in a few moments. I went before the Lord in my room alone, and while praying obtained the evidence that our only source of help was in the Lord. If he did not bless and heal the child, medicine could not save him.

«I there decided to venture the life of the child upon the promises of God. I had a lively sense of his willingness and power to save, and there alone before God exclaimed, ‘We will believe, and show to these unbelieving neighbors, who are expecting the death of the child, that there is a God in Israel, whose ear is open to the prayers of his children. We will trust alone in thee.’ I felt the power of God to that degree that for a short time I was helpless. My husband opened the door to say to me that the friend was waiting for our decision, and asked, ‘Shall we get the Sarsaparilla?’ I answered, ‘No, tell him we will try the strength of God’s promises.’

«The neighbors looked upon me with astonishment. They were confident the child would die. That night we anointed him, and my husband prayed for him, laying his hands upon him in the name of the Lord. He looked up with a smile. A light seemed to rest upon his features, and we there had the evidence that the Lord had answered our prayers. We gave him no more medicine. He gained strength fast, and the next day could stand upon his feet.

«We were anxious to visit the brethren in Maine, but the sickness of our child had hindered us. We immediately made preparations for our journey. The first day we rode to Hartford. The child seemed very weary, and could not sleep. We again sought unto the Lord, who heard our prayer, and the nerves of the child were quieted; and while we were praying he fell into a sweet sleep and rested undisturbed through the night. The next day we traveled about one hundred and forty miles to the good home of Brother Nichols in Dorchester, Mass. The powers of darkness were again permitted to afflict the child. He would cling to my neck, and then with both hands seem to be fighting off something, crying, No, no, and then again cling with all his strength to me. We could not tell what these strange actions meant, but thought he must see something invisible to us. Satan was unwilling to lose his prey. Was he troubling the child? or were his evil angels by their presence exciting his fears, and causing him to act thus? In our season of prayer that morning we rebuked the power of the enemy, and our child was no more afflicted. We took the boat Portland, but I was very sick, and could not take care of my child. I fainted a number of times. When I grew better my little Henry expressed great joy. He would climb upon the sofa, throw his little arms around my neck, and kiss me many times. He was then one year old.

«Again I was called to deny self for the good of souls. We must sacrifice the company of our little Henry, and go forth to give ourselves unreservedly to the work. My health was poor, and he would necessarily occupy a great share of my time. It was a severe trial, yet I dared not let my child stand in the way of our duty. I believed that the Lord had spared him to us when he was very sick, and that if I should let him hinder me from doing my duty, God would remove him from me. Alone before the Lord, with most painful feelings and many tears, I made the sacrifice, and gave up my only child for another to have a mother’s care and feelings. We left him in Brother Howland’s family in whom we had the utmost confidence. They were willing to bear burdens to leave us as free as possible to labor in the cause of God. We knew that they could take better care of Henry than we could while journeying with him, and it was for his good that he should have a steady home and good discipline, that his sweet temper be not injured. It was hard parting with my child. His little sad face, as I left him, was before me night and day; yet in the strength of the Lord I put him out of my mind, and sought to do others good. Brother Howland’s family had the whole charge of Henry for five years, without any recompense, and provided him all his clothing, except a present I would bring him once a year, as Hannah did Samuel.

«One morning during family prayers at Brother Howland’s, I was shown that it was our duty to go to Dartmouth, Mass. Soon after, my husband went to the postoffice and brought a letter from Brother Collins, urging us to come to Dartmouth, for their son was very sick. We immediately went and found that the young man, thirteen years old, had been sick nine weeks with the whooping cough, and was wasted almost to a skeleton. He had fits of coughing which would stop his breath, and his father was obliged to rush to the door with him in his arms that he might regain his breath. The parents thought him to be in consumption, and were greatly distressed that their only son must be taken from them. We felt a spirit of prayer for him, and earnestly besought the Lord to spare his life. We believed that he would get well, although to all appearances there was no possibility of his recovery. It was a powerful season. My husband raised him in his arms, and exclaimed, ‘You will not die, but live!’ We believed that God would be glorified in his recovery. We left Dartmouth, and were absent about eight days. When we returned, the sick boy came out to meet us. He had gained four pounds in flesh. We found the household rejoicing in God for his wonderful work.

«We then received a request to visit Sister Hastings of New Ipswich, N. H. She was greatly afflicted. We made it a subject of prayer, and obtained evidence that the Lord would go with us. We tarried on our way with Brother Nichols’ family. They informed us of the affliction of Sister Temple of Boston. There was a sore upon her arm which caused her much suffering. It had extended over the bend of the elbow. She had suffered such agony that she had resorted to human means until she saw it was of no use. The last effort drove the disease to her lungs, and unless she should obtain immediate help, the disease would end in consumption. She left word for us to come and pray for her. We went with trembling, having tried in vain to get the assurance that God would work for us. We went into the sick room relying upon the naked promises of God which seemed so firm that we felt that we could venture out upon them. Her arm was in such a condition that we could not touch it, and were obliged to pour the oil upon it. Then we united in prayer, and claimed the promises of God. The pain and soreness left the arm while we were praying, and we left her recovering.

«We found Brother Hastings’ family in deep affliction. Our dear Sister H. met us with tears, exclaiming, ‘The Lord has sent you to us in time of great need.’ She had an infant about eight weeks old which cried continually when awake. This, added to her wretched state of health, was fast wearing away her strength. We prayed earnestly to God for the mother, following the direction given in James, and we had the assurance that our prayers were heard. Jesus was in our midst to break the power of Satan, and release the captive. But we felt sure that the mother could not gain much strength until the cries of the child should cease. We anointed the child and prayed over it, believing that the Lord would give both mother and child peace and rest. It was done. The cries of the child ceased, and we left them doing well. The gratitude of the mother could not be expressed. Our interview with that dear family was precious. Our hearts were knit together; especially was the heart of Sister Hastings knit with mine as were those of David and Jonathan. Our union was not marred while she lived.

«In about one year from that time while in Oswego, N. Y., a sad letter reached us, giving information of Sister H.’s sudden death. This news fell upon me with crushing weight. It was difficult to be reconciled to it. She was capable of doing much good in the cause of God. She was a pillar in the cause of truth, and it seemed indeed to us like a mysterious providence that she should be laid away from our sight in the grave, and her talents be hid. But God works in a mysterious way his wonders to perform. Her death was indeed to save her children. Her earnest prayers had gone up to God, to save them in any way that he should choose. The mother was snatched away, and then her faithful admonitions, her earnest prayers and many tears were regarded, and had an influence upon the smitten flock. We visited the place after the mother’s death, in June, 1850, and found the father bereaved and lonely, but living for God, and bearing well his double burden. He was comforted in his great grief by seeing his children turning unto the Lord, and earnestly seeking a preparation to meet their dear mother when the Life-giver shall break the fetters of the tomb, release the captive, and bring her forth immortal. My husband baptized the four eldest children. Since that visit the eldest daughter has died in hope, and rests in the silent grave.

«On our return from New Ipswich to Boston, about eight days after we had prayed for Sister Temple, we found her at the wash-tub in the enjoyment of good health.

«Again we visited Connecticut, and in June, 1849, Sister Clarissa M. Bonfoey proposed to live with us. Her parents had recently died, and a division of furniture at the homestead, had given her everything necessary for a small family to commence housekeeping. She cheerfully gave us the use of these things, and did our work. We occupied a part of Brother B.’s house at Rocky Hill. Sister Bonfoey was a precious child of God. She possessed a cheerful and happy disposition, never gloomy, yet not light and trifling.

«My husband attended meetings in New Hampshire and Maine, and during his absence I was much troubled, fearing he might take the cholera which was then prevailing. But one night I dreamed that many were dying with the cholera. My husband proposed that we should walk out, and in our walk I noticed that his eyes looked bloodshot, his countenance flushed, and his lips pale. I told him I feared that he would be an easy subject for the cholera. Said he, ‘Walk on a little further and I will show you a sure remedy for the cholera.’ As we walked on we came to a bridge over a stream of water, when he abruptly left me and plunged out of sight into the water. I was frightened; but he soon arose, holding in his hand a glass of sparkling water. He drank it, saying, ‘This water cures all manner of diseases.’ He plunged in again out of sight, brought up another glass of clear water, and as he held it up, repeated the same words. I felt sad that he did not offer me some of the water. Said he, ‘There is a secret spring in the bottom of this river which cures all manner of diseases, and all who obtain it must plunge at a venture. No one can obtain it for another. Each must plunge for it himself.’ As he drank the glass of water, I looked at his countenance. His complexion was fair and natural. He seemed to possess health and vigor. When I awoke, all my fears were dispelled, and I trusted my husband to the care of a merciful God, fully believing that he would return him to me in safety.

«On his return, my husband was impressed that it was his duty to write and publish the present truth. He was greatly encouraged and blessed as he decided thus to do. But again he would be in doubt and perplexity as he was penniless. There were those who had means, but they chose to keep it. He at length gave up in discouragement, and decided to look for a field of grass to mow. As he left the house, a burden was rolled upon me, and I fainted. Prayer was offered for me, and I was blessed, and taken off in vision. I saw that the Lord had blessed and strengthened my husband to labor in the field one year before; that he had made a right disposition of the means he there earned; and that he would have a hundred fold in this life, and, if faithful, a rich reward in the kingdom of God; but that the Lord would not now give him strength to labor in the field, for he had another work for him; that if he ventured into the field he would be cut down by sickness; but that he must write, write, write, and walk out by faith. He immediately commenced to write, and when he came to some difficult passage we would call upon the Lord to give us the true meaning of his word.

«My husband then began, to publish a small sheet at Middletown, eight miles from Rocky Hill, and often walked this distance and back again, although he was then lame. When he brought the first number from the printing-office, we all bowed around it, asking the Lord, with humble hearts and many tears, to let his blessing rest upon the feeble efforts of his servant. He then directed the paper to all he thought would read it, and carried it to the postoffice in a carpet-bag. Every number was taken from Middletown to Rocky Hill, and always before preparing them for the postoffice, they were spread before the Lord, and earnest prayers mingled with tears, were offered to God that his blessing would attend the silent messengers. Very soon letters came bringing means to publish the paper, and the good news of many souls embracing the truth.

«July 28, 1849, my second child, James Edson White, was born. When he was six weeks old we went to Maine. September 14, a meeting was appointed at Paris. Those who observed the Sabbath of the Lord had not had a meeting for one year and a half. Brethren Bates, Chamberlain and Ralph were present, also brethren and sisters from Topsham. One F. T. Howland, a notable fanatic, was present. He had long troubled God’s children with his errors and harsh spirit. Honest souls whom the Lord loved, but who had long been in error, were at the meeting. While engaged in prayer the Spirit of the Lord rested upon Brother S. Howland. His face was white, and a light seemed to rest upon it. He went towards F. T. Howland, and in the name of the Lord bid him leave the assembly of the saints. Said he, ‘You have torn the hearts of God’s children and made them bleed. Leave the house, or God will smite you.’ That rebellious spirit, never before known to fear or to yield, sprang for his hat and in terror left the house. The power of God descended something as it did on the day of Pentecost, and five or six who had been deceived and led into error and fanaticism, fell prostrate to the floor. Parents confessed to their children, and children to their parents, and to one another. Brother J. N. Andrews with deep feeling exclaimed, «I would exchange a thousand errors for one truth.’ Such a scene of confessing and pleading with God for forgiveness we have seldom witnessed. That meeting was the beginning of better days to the children of God in Paris, to them a green spot in the desert. The Lord was bringing out Brother Andrews to fit him for future usefulness, and was giving him an experience that would be of great value to him in his future labors. He was teaching him that he should not be influenced by the experience of others, but decide for himself concerning the work of God.

«At that meeting I learned that my mother had stepped upon a rusty nail which had passed through her foot. She had tried every remedy, but nothing removed the inflammation, or relieved the pain. We went immediately to Gorham, and found her foot dreadfully swollen. The neighbors had proposed every remedy they could think of, but they accomplished nothing. Mother was threatened with lock jaw. The next morning we united in prayer for her. I believed that God would restore her to perfect soundness. She was unable to kneel. With a deep sense of my unworthiness, I knelt at my mother’s feet and besought the Lord to touch her with his healing power. We all believed that the Lord heard prayer. With the Spirit of the Lord resting upon me, I bid her in the name of the Lord rise up and walk. His power was in the room, and shouts of praise went up to God. Mother arose and walked the room, declaring that the work was done, that the soreness was gone, and that she was entirely relieved from pain. That day she rode thirty-eight miles to Topsham to attend a conference there, and had no more trouble with her foot.

«Some present at the meeting were anxious to have us visit New York State again; but feeble health sunk my spirits, and it was a time of despondency with me. I told them that I dared not venture unless the Lord should strengthen me for the task. They prayed for me, and the clouds were scattered, yet I did not obtain that strength I so much desired. I resolved to walk out by faith and go, clinging to the promise, ‘My grace is sufficient for you.’ God had been my helper hitherto, and why should I now doubt? The language of my heart was, ‘I will still trust in the strong arm of Jehovah. If like Paul I am to be troubled with a thorn in the flesh, I will not murmur. It will cause me to feel my dependence upon God, and to walk tremblingly before him.’ On that journey our faith was tried, but we obtained the victory. My strength increased, and I could rejoice in God. All the strength the Lord had given me was needed to labor in New York. Many had united upon the truth since our first visit, but there was much to be done for them. I will here give an extract of a letter written by my husband, from Volney, N. Y., November 13, 1849:—

«‘Dear Brother Howland: November 3, we attended a conference at Oswego. There was a large gathering. The increase of Sabbath-keepers since last spring in this region has been more than one-half. But there are trials here of a serious nature. We find work enough. Here are some fiery spirits who have much zeal and but little judgment, whose principal message is, ‘Sell that ye have and give alms.’ They press the truth in such a manner and spirit as to disgust, try, and harden those who have hundreds of dollars they might use in the cause of God. Thus a sore dividing spirit exists. The Lord has revealed these things to my wife, and she has borne her testimony that both parties were wrong. This testimony I think is received. Tobacco and snuff are being cleared from the camp with very few exceptions. Selling is a subject that should be treated in a cautious manner. A great responsibility rests upon God’s stewards. With their money they may ruin some of us, and by withholding it from those whom God has called to feed the flock, souls may sink, and starve, and die. The Lord will straighten out all who will be straightened. His work will move on.’

«Our labors at this time were difficult. Some of the poor seemed to be envious of the rich, and it needed much wisdom to reprove the errors of the poor without strengthening the hands of the rich. If we reproved the selfishness of the rich, the poorer class would respond, ‘Amen.’ We presented before both classes the responsibility resting upon the wealthy to make a right use of that which God had lent them, and held up before them the suffering cause of God which was the true object of their liberalities. I was also shown that it was not the duty of the wealthy to help those who had health and could help themselves, that some were in very poor circumstances who need not be thus situated. They were not diligent in business. They lacked economy and good management, and it was their duty to reform. Instead of receiving help from their brethren, they should carefully husband their time and provide for their own families and have something with which to help the cause of God. They were as accountable to God for the strength which he had given them as the rich man is for his property.

«Some of the poor were zealous to attend every conference, taking their whole families with them, consuming a number of days to get to the place of meeting, and then burdening those who provided for the meeting, with their unruly children. These persons were no help in the meetings and they manifested no fruits of receiving any benefit themselves. They seemed to possess a careless, loafing spirit which was an injury to the cause. In this way precious time for which they were accountable was wasted, and in cold weather they must suffer unless helped by their brethren. These things stood in the way of those who had means, as they were constantly vexed with the course of these individuals. And as we labored for the good of the wealthy, these stood directly in our way. It was difficult to impress both classes with a sense of their duty. Yet after much labor and many trials, there seemed to be a reform, and there was more order in the church. The Lord blessed our labors, and often revealed himself to us in remarkable power.

«We designed going to Lorraine to hold a meeting, but our little Edson was taken very sick. We carried this matter before the Lord, and felt it to be our duty to go, trusting in him. We prayed for our sick child, and then I took him in my arms in winter, and rode thirty miles, keeping my heart uplifted to God for his recovery. When we arrived the child was in a perspiration, and was better. But again our faith was tried. In the course of the meeting the fever returned upon the child. He was suffering with inflammation upon the brain. All night we watched over him, earnestly praying that the disease might be effectually rebuked. We tried to exercise faith, regardless of appearance. Our petitions were heard, and the child recovered. It did seem to us that an angel of God touched him. Our meeting in Lorraine was greatly blessed of God. The hearts of the scattered ones were comforted, and some acknowledged with tears that they had been fed with truth. We returned to Volney free in the Lord.

«We then decided that it was our duty to labor in the State of New York. My husband felt a burden upon him to write and publish. We rented a house in Oswego, borrowed furniture from our brethren, and commenced housekeeping. There my husband wrote, published, and preached. It was necessary for him to keep the armor on every moment, for he often had to contend with professed Adventists who were advocating error, preaching definite time, and were seeking to prejudice all they could against our faith. We took the position that the time they set would pass by. I was shown that the honestly deceived would then see the deception of some whom they then had confidence in, who were zealously preaching time, and they would be led to search for truth.

«We visited Camden about forty miles from Oswego. Previous to going I was shown the little company who professed the truth there, and among them, saw a woman who professed much piety, but was a hypocrite, and was deceiving the people of God. Sabbath morning quite a number collected, but the deceitful woman was not present. I inquired of a sister if this was all their company. She said it was. This woman lived four miles from the place, and the sister did not think of her. Soon she entered, and I immediately recognized her as the woman whose real character the Lord had shown me. In the course of the meeting she talked quite lengthily, and said that she had perfect love, and enjoyed holiness of heart, that she did not have trials and temptations, but enjoyed perfect peace and submission to the will of God. The brethren and sisters were strangers to me, and they seemed to have confidence in her, and I feared that they would not receive my testimony if I should state what had been shown me in regard to her. I inquired concerning this person, and was informed that she appeared to be the most zealous one among them. I left the meeting with sad feelings, and returned to Brother Preston’s. That night I dreamed that a secret closet was opened to me, filled with rubbish, and I was told that it was my work to clear it out. By the light of a lamp I removed the rubbish, and told those with me that the room could be supplied with more valuable things.

«Sunday morning we met with the brethren, and my husband arose to preach on the parable of the ten virgins. He had no freedom in speaking, and proposed that we have a season of prayer. We bowed before the Lord and engaged in earnest prayer. The dark cloud was lifted, and I was taken off in vision, and again shown the case of this woman. She was represented to me as being in perfect darkness. Jesus frowned upon her and her husband. That withering frown caused me to tremble. I saw that she had acted the hypocrite, professing holiness while her heart was full of corruption. After I came out of vision I related with trembling, yet with faithfulness, what I had seen. I was severely tried, and anxious for the people of God. Would those present believe the testimony? The woman put on a calm appearance and said, ‘I am glad the Lord knows my heart. He knows that I love him.’ Then her husband rose in anger, and laying his hand on the Bible said, ‘The Bible is all we want, I shall not give up the Bible for visions.’ His wife affected to check him, saying, ‘Don’t, husband, dear, don’t talk; the Lord knows me, and will take care of it all.’ Then she vindicated herself, saying, ‘If my heart could only be opened that you might see it.’ I knew the minds of some were unsettled, whether to believe what the Lord had shown me, or let her appearance weigh against the testimony borne. Her appearance was perfectly calculated to gain their sympathy. But I had discharged a painful duty and God would take care of the result. At the close of the meeting she stated that she had no hard feelings against me, and that she should pray for me, and if I got to heaven I would see her there. We returned with Brother P.’s family, and that night the Lord met with us. I believed that the Lord would show his people the truth, and justify the vision. The neighbors said that I had abused the poor woman.

«Not long after this, terrible fear seized this woman. A horror rested upon her, and she began to confess. She even went from house to house among her unbelieving neighbors, and confessed that the man she had been living with for years was not her husband, that she ran away from England and left a kind husband and one child. She also confessed that she had professed to understand medicine, and had taken oath that the bottles of mixture she made cost her one dollar when they cost her only twelve cents, that she had taken thirty dollars from a poor man by taking a false oath. Many such wicked acts she confessed, and her repentance seemed to be genuine. In some cases she restored where she had taken away wrongfully. In one instance she started on foot forty miles to confess. We could see the hand of God in this matter. He gave her no rest day nor night, until she confessed her sins publicly. This fully justified in the minds of the brethren and those also of their neighbors who sympathized with her for a time what God had shown me of her vileness under the garb of sanctification.

«While in Oswego, N. Y., we decided to visit Vermont and Maine. I left my little Edson, then nine months old, in the care of Sister Bonfoey while we went on our way to do the will of God. We labored very hard, suffering many privations to accomplish but little. We found the brethren and sisters in a scattered and confused state. Almost every one was affected by some error, and all seemed zealous for their own opinions. We often suffered intense anguish of mind in meeting with so few who were ready to listen to Bible truth, while they eagerly cherished error and fanaticism. We were obliged to make a tedious route of forty miles by stage to get to Sutton, the place of our appointment. I was sick, and rode in much pain. My husband feared every moment that I would faint, and often whispered to me to have faith in God. Our silent yet earnest prayers were going up to heaven for strength to endure. Every ten miles the horses were changed. This was a great relief to me as I could step into a hotel a few minutes and rest by lying down. The Lord heard us pray, and strengthened me to finish the journey.

«The first night after reaching the place of meeting, despondency pressed upon me. I tried to overcome it, but it seemed impossible to control my thoughts. My little ones burdened by mind. We had left one in the State of Maine two years and eight months old, and another babe in New York, nine months old. We had just performed a tedious journey in great suffering, and I thought of those who were enjoying the society of their children in their own quiet homes. I reviewed our past life, calling to mind expressions which had been made by a sister only a few days before, who thought it must be very pleasant to be riding through the country without anything to trouble me. It was just such a life as she should delight in. At that very time my heart was yearning for my children, especially my babe, in New York, and I had just come from my sleeping room where I had been battling with my feelings, and with many tears had besought the Lord for strength to subdue all murmuring, and that I might cheerfully deny myself for Jesus’ sake. I thought that perhaps all regarded my journeyings in this light, and had not the least idea of the self-denial and sacrifice required to travel from place to place, meeting cold hearts, distant looks and severe speeches, separated from those who are closely entwined around my heart.

«While riding in the cars to that meeting I was unable to sit up. My husband made a bed on the seat, and I laid down with aching head and heart. The burden borne for others I dreaded above everything else. These things came before me the following night, and I found myself saying. ‘It won’t pay! So much labor to accomplish so little.’ In this state of mind I fell asleep and dreamed that a tall angel stood by my side, and asked me why I was sad. I related to him the thoughts that had troubled me, and said, ‘I can do so little good, why may we not be with our children, and enjoy their society?’ Said he, ‘You have given to the Lord two beautiful flowers, the fragrance of which is as sweet incense before him, and is more precious in his sight than gold or silver, for it is a heart gift. It draws upon every fiber of the heart as no other sacrifice can. You should not look upon present appearances, but keep the eye single to your duty, single to God’s glory, and follow in his opening providence, and the path shall brighten before you. Every self-denial, every sacrifice is faithfully recorded, and will bring its reward.’

«The blessing of the Lord attended our conference at Sutton, and after the meeting closed we went on our way to Canada East. My throat troubled me much, and I could not speak aloud, or even whisper, without suffering. We rode praying as we went for strength to endure the journey. About every ten miles we were obliged to stop that I might rest. My husband braided the tall grass and tied the horse to it, giving him a chance to feed, then spread my cloak upon the grass for a resting place for me. Thus we continued until we arrived at Melbourne. We expected to meet opposition there. Many who professed to believe in the near coming of our Saviour fought against the law of God. We felt the need of strength from God. I could not speak aloud, and often inquired, For what have I come this long distance? Again we tried to exercise faith, knowing that our only help was in God. We prayed that the Lord would manifest himself unto us. My earnest prayer was that the disease might leave my throat, and that my voice might be restored. I had the evidence that the hand of God there touched me. The difficulty was instantly removed, and my voice was clear. The candle of the Lord shone about us during that meeting, and we enjoyed great freedom. The children of God were greatly strengthened and encouraged.

«We then returned to Vermont, and again my voice failed me, yet we met our appointment at Johnson, and found quite a number of brethren and sisters collected. Some were in a perplexed and tried condition. Certain fanatics had imposed upon them, and cast a fear over them which held them in bondage. The conscientious were so fearful of offending God, and had so little confidence in themselves, that they dared not rise and assert their liberty. The night after we arrived I fainted a number of times through weakness. But in answer to prayer I was revived, and strength was given me of the Lord to go through the meeting. We knew that on the next day we should have to battle with the powers of darkness, and that Satan would muster his forces. In the morning the two individuals, Libbey and Bailey, who had so long deceived and oppressed God’s children came into the meeting with two women dressed in white linen to represent the righteousness of the saints, and with their long, black hair, hanging loose about their shoulders. I had a message for them, and while I was speaking L. kept his black eyes fastened upon me, but I had no fear of his influence. Strength was given me from Heaven to rise above their satanic power. The children of God who had been held in bondage began to breathe free, and rejoice in the Lord.

«As our meeting progressed, these fanatics sought to rise and speak, but they could not find opportunity. But as prayer was being offered at the close of the meeting, B. came to the door and commenced speaking. The door was closed upon him. He opened it and again began to speak. The power of God fell upon my husband, and the color left his face, as he arose from his knees, and laid his hand upon B., exclaiming, ‘The Lord does not want your testimony here. The Lord does not want your here to distract and crush his people!’ The power of God filled the room, and B. commenced to fall backward against the house. The power of God in the house was painful to that fanatical party. B. looked terrified. He staggered and came near falling to the floor. The place was awful on account of the presence of the Lord. All that company of darkness left the place, and the sweet Spirit of the Lord rested upon his dear, tried children. The cause of God in Vermont had been cursed by fanatical spirits, but at this meeting these wicked persons received a check from which they never recovered.

«From Vermont we returned to the State of New York, very anxious to see our child whom we had left. We had been from him five weeks, and as we met him and he clasped his little arms about my neck and laid his head upon my shoulder, I saw that a great change had taken place in him. He was very feeble. My feelings cannot be described. It was difficult to suppress murmuring feelings. These thoughts would arise, I left him in the hands of God to go and do his work, and now I find him in this condition. My agonized feelings found relief in tears. Then I became more calm and reconciled to the will of God. We tried to look at the child’s case in as favorable a light as possible, and were comforted with these words, ‘The Lord doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men.’ We felt that our only hope was in God, and prayed for the child and obtained signal answers to our prayers. The Spirit of the Lord rested upon us, and his symptoms became more favorable, so that we journeyed with him to Oswego to attend a conference there.

«From Oswego we went to Centerport in company with Brother and Sister Edson, and made it our home at Brother Harris’, where we published a monthly magazine, called the Advent Review . My child grew worse, and three times a day we had special seasons of prayer for him. Sometimes he would be blessed, and the progress of disease would be stayed, then our faith would be severely tried as his symptoms became alarming. At one time we left him to go about two miles to Port Byron. Brother R. accompanied us intending to take the packet to Port Gibson. When we returned Sister H. met us at the door much agitated, saying, ‘Your babe is struck with death!’ We hastened to the child who lay unconscious. His little arms were purple. The death dampness seemed to be on his brow, and his eyes were dim. Oh, the anguish of my heart then! I could give up my child. I did not idolized him, but I knew that our enemies were ready to triumph over us and say, ‘Where is their God!’ I then said to my husband, There is but one thing more that we can do, that is to follow the Bible rule, and call the elders; but where should we go? We thought of Brother R. who had just left on the line-boat, intending to step aboard the first packet. In a moment we were decided for my husband to go for Brother R., drive on the tow-path until he overtook the line-boat, and bring him back. He drove five miles before overtaking the boat. While my husband was gone we were praying for the Lord to spare the life of the child until his father returned. Our petitions were answered. When they arrived, Brother R. anointed the child and prayed over him. We all united in the prayer offered. The child opened his eyes and knew us. A light shone upon us his features, and the blessing of God rested upon us all. We had the assurance that the power of the enemy was broken.

«The next morning I was greatly depressed in spirits. Such queries as this troubled me, Why was not God willing to hear our prayers and raise the child to health? Satan, ever ready with his temptations, suggested that it was because we were not right. I could think of no particular thing wherein I had grieved the Lord, yet a crushing weight seemed to be on my spirits, driving me to despair. I doubted my acceptance with God, and could not pray. I had not courage so much as to lift my eyes to heaven. I suffered intense anguish of mind until my husband besought the Lord in my behalf. He would not yield the point until my voice was united with his for deliverance. It came, and I began to hope, and my trembling faith grasped the promises of God. Then Satan came in another form. My husband was taken very sick. His symptoms were alarming. He cramped at intervals, and suffered excruciating pain. His feet and limbs were cold. I rubbed them until I had no strength to do so longer. Brother Harris was away some miles at his work, and there were only Sisters Harris and Bonfoey and my sister Sarah present, and I was just gathering courage to dare believe in the promises of God. If ever I felt my weakness it was then. We knew that something must be done immediately. Every moment his case was growing more critical. It was clearly a case of cholera. He asked us to pray, and we dared not refuse, and in great weakness we bowed before the Lord. With a deep sense of my unworthiness, I laid my hands upon his head, and prayed the Lord to reveal his power. A change was effected immediately. The natural color of his face returned, and the light of Heaven beamed upon his countenance. We were all filled with gratitude unspeakable. We never had witnessed a more remarkable answer to prayer.

«That day was appointed for us to go to Port Byron to read the proof-sheets of the paper that was being printed at Auburn. It appeared to us that Satan was trying to hinder the publication of truth that we were laboring to get before the people. We felt that we must walk out upon faith. My husband said he would go to Port Byron for the proof-sheets, and we helped him harness the horse, and then I accompanied him. The Lord strengthened him on the way. He received his proof and a note stating that the paper would be off next day, and we must be at Auburn to receive it. That night we were awakened by the screams of our little Edson who slept in the room above us. It was about midnight. Our little boy would cling to Sr. B., then with both hands fight the air, for we could see nothing, and then in terror he would cry, No, no, and cling closer to us. We knew this was Satan’s work to annoy us, and we knelt in prayer, and husband rebuked the evil spirit in the name of the Lord, and Edson quietly fell asleep in Sr. B.’s arms, and rested well through the night.

«Then my husband was again attacked. He was in much pain. I knelt at the bedside and prayed the Lord to strengthen our faith. I knew the Lord had wrought for him, and rebuked the disease, and we could not ask him to do what had already been done. But we prayed that the Lord would carry on his work. We repeated these words, ‘Thou hast heard prayer! Thou hast wrought! We believe without a doubt! Carry on the work thou hast begun!’ Thus we plead two hours before the Lord, and while we were praying, he fell asleep and rested well till daylight. He then arose very weak, but we would not look at appearance. We trusted the promise of God. He said it should be done, and we believed and determined to walk out by faith. We were expected at Auburn that day to receive the first number of the paper. We believed that Satan was trying to hinder us, and my husband decided he should go, trusting in the Lord. Brother H. made ready the carriage, and Sister B. accompanied us. My husband had to be helped into the wagon, yet every mile we rode he gained strength. We kept our minds stayed upon God, and our faith in constant exercise as we rode on peaceful and happy. We hired a room in a hotel for the purpose of reading proof for the last time and in the afternoon as I looked out of the window I saw my husband carrying a heavy case of type from one office to another. This alarmed me, but the Lord gave him strength, and when we received the paper all finished, and rode back to Centerport, we felt sure that we were in the path of duty. The blessing of God rested upon us. We had been greatly buffeted by Satan, but through Christ strengthening us we had come off victorious. We had a large bundle of papers with us containing precious truth for the people of God.

«Our child was recovering, and Satan was not permitted to afflict him again. We worked early and late, sometimes not allowing ourselves time to sit at the table to eat our meals, but having a piece by our side we would eat and work at the same time. By overtaxing my strength in folding large sheets, I brought on a severe pain in my shoulder which did not leave me for years. We had been anticipating a journey East, and our child was again well enough to travel. We took the packet for Utica. There was on the boat a young woman from Centerport who was busy relating to others some things concerning us. And they would occasionally promenade back and forth the length of the boat to get a view of me. They had been informed that I had visions, and the young lady was heard to say, ‘They are such a strange people! They can be heard praying at all times in the day, and often in the night. Most of their time is spent in prayer.’ Many curious eyes were turned towards us, to examine us, especially the one who had visions. There was at one time some trouble on the boat. The chamber-maid had been abused by one of the passengers. She went with her complaint to the captain of the boat, and gained many sympathizers. While she was describing the one who had abused her, many eyes were turned towards me, as the dress described answered very nearly to my dress. It was whispered round, ‘It is her! It is her! The one that has visions! What a shame!’ And a zealous one spoke up and asked if it was me, pointing towards me. ‘Oh no, no,’ said she in her Irish tongue, ‘Surely she is as nice a little woman as there is on the boat.’ I could but notice how gladly they would have had me the guilty one, because I had visions.

«Next they inquired if I believed in the spirit rapping that had just commenced in Rochester. I told them that I believed there was a reality in it, but it was an evil spirit instead of a good one. They looked at each other and said, ‘What blasphemy! I would not repeat those words for my life.’ With religious horror they withdrew from our company, and manifested a fear to approach us afterwards. Some were very curious to know what physician had been attending my child. We told them we had not applied to any earthly physician. A minister and his wife and children were on board. Two of their children were very sick, and the mother inquired in regard to the remedies we had used. I told her the course we had pursued, that we had followed the prescription of the apostle James, chapter 5, and the Lord had wrought for us as no earthly physician could, and we were not afraid to trust our child in his hands, and he was fast improving. The only answer was, ‘If that was my child, and I had no physician, I should know it would die.’ At Utica we parted with Sister B., my sister S. and our child, and went on our way to the East, while Brother Abbey took them home with him. We had to make some sacrifice in our feelings to separate from those who were bound to us by tender ties; especially did our hearts cling to little Edson whose life had been so much in danger. We then journeyed to Vermont and held a conference at Sutton.»