"No doubt, I do," answered Brown.
"Yes, you do, most decidedly: For instance, when you first learned of the wonders of the telephone, you could scarcely credit them; when you were informed that you could converse with a friend who stood miles away, you not only doubted, but perhaps disbelieved, yet you doubt no longer, for your eyes have seen, and your ears have heard. Is not this true?"
"It is; what the eye has seen or the ear has heard, one must certainly believe. But is not that a vastly different proposition?"
"Not at all; you are only less familiar with the methods or principles upon which the resurrection depends, that is all. When we have more of the intelligence of heaven, and can understand more regarding the great principle by which the resurrection is brought about, it will appear simple enough. God permits a ray of intelligence to come from heaven; it reaches the mind of man, it gives us knowledge of the telegraph, by which our messages flash from nation to nation in the twinkling of an eye, and opens to our understanding many other wonders of modern science. We may not understand fully how it is done, but we know it is accomplished, and we therefore believe what we once disbelieved.
"Another ray reaches us, and we have an understanding of the telephone, the phonograph, the electric cars; and through the effects of these discoveries, we open our eyes in wonderment! Yet these flashes of intelligence are nothing compared with the mighty fire of wisdom in the heavens from whence these originate. They may be new to us, but are thoroughly understood by Him who sent them. They are all gifts from the Father of our spirits, and only small gifts at that, compared with what He has in store for us."
"How can you imagine for an instant," exclaimed Mr. Sutherland, "that it can be possible for all the particles of our bodies to be gathered together again after they have been scattered?"
"I do not, and cannot pretend to, answer this question. It will require more intelligence than I have, to answer it. But this I firmly believe; that no particle, that is, none of the component parts, of my body will ever go to make up the body of anything else, except perhaps for a time, and that it matters not whether my body be burned or permitted to decay and return to mother earth, every particle will be collected and brought together again, at the time of the resurrection which will be literal in every sense of the word. Let me relate a little anecdote which illustrates my position.
"A person had received, as a birthday gift, a beautiful silver cup from a friend. This cup was prized very much, not only on account of its beauty, but because of the love the receiver had for the giver. In a short time the one making this present was called away, the cold hand of death was laid upon him.
"Then the cup increased a hundred fold in value to the owner, and nothing could influence him to part from it. Years afterward, the owner of the present carried it to the place where he was employed, for the purpose of exhibiting it to a fellow workman. During the day, in passing the shelf where it rested while he was engaged in moving some valuable goods, he carelessly knocked the cup from the shelf, and it fell into a vessel of fluid. Thinking at the moment that the vessel contained nothing but water, the owner waited until his arms were released from the valuable load they contained, before seeking to remove the cup from the place into which it had fallen. When he returned, he found, to his sorrow, that his cup had disappeared. Upon investigation, imagine his sorrow, when he discovered that the vessel contained nitric acid instead of water, and that the cup had been eaten up by the fluid. He thought of how he had valued that keepsake, how much he revered the memory of the giver, and how foolish he was to bring the prize from his home that morning. At this moment, his employer happened along, and noticing his grief enquired for the cause. After listening to the poor man's story, and learning that the cup was made in a neighboring town, he rather startled the sorrowing man with this remark: 'Don't feel bad, my man, I promise, you shall again have your cup.'
"The workingman, thinking his words meant that he should receive the amount of its real value, or another cup, explained that it was not its cost, neither would another cup fill its place. It was the loss of this particular article, which came from the hands of a friend who had since died, that caused him grief.