“You think so, Sister Stenhouse,” she replied, “and I suppose I ought to think so too; but if it’s all false how did people first begin to think of it? People don’t say that the Mormons are murderers or thieves, because we have given them no reason to think so. Then why should they think of such an unheard-of thing as Polygamy—surely there must have been some reason. Don’t you think so?”
“No, dear,” I answered, “Elder Stenhouse says that some very wicked men have sometimes joined the Church, and have done all manner of shocking things, so that they had to be cut off; and then they went about trying to make other people believe that the Mormons were as wicked as they were. There was John C. Bennett, who lived a frightful life at Nauvoo, and then tried to make out that Joseph Smith was as bad as he was. And Marsh, the president of the twelve apostles, and Orson Hyde, when they apostatized not only said bad things of Joseph, but took affidavit, and swore solemnly before the magistrates, that the prophet had been guilty of the most fearful crimes.”
I kissed her again; and she said, “Well, perhaps you are right;” but I could see that in her heart she was not convinced.
Then we talked of ourselves and all that interested us, and she told me all her childish hopes and ambitions; and to me—young as I was myself—it was pleasant to listen to her innocent prattle. She promised to come and see me when Elder Stenhouse had gone, and I should be left alone; and when we got back to the rest of the party we were as firm friends as if we had known each other a lifetime.
At midnight, Saturday, June 15th, 1850, the steamer left Southampton for Havre-de-Grace, bearing on board the first two Mormon missionaries to Italy; one of them was my husband.
The Saints had called in the evening to bid Elder Stenhouse good-bye; and as he was, of course, to travel “without purse or scrip,” they vied with each other in showing their appreciation of his position and his devotion to the faith. The poorest among them would not be denied the privilege of contributing their mites to aid in the conversion of the Italians; and none of the brethren felt that they could show too much kindness to the departing missionary. Just in this way have all the foreign missions of the Mormon Church been projected and sustained; the elements of success were always present—devotion and self-abnegation on the part of the missionaries, and an earnest, self-sacrificing disposition on the part of the people, commanding respect, however erroneous or foolish the foundation of their faith.
In the bustle of departure, Mr. Stenhouse seemed never to have thought about himself, and certainly he made no preparation for me. I had full confidence in him, however, and loved him devotedly, and knew that my love was returned. But men who look for miracles, and count upon special providences for daily bread, are not generally very prudent or far-seeing in their domestic arrangements. Elder Stenhouse had been told that “the Lord would provide,” and it therefore seemed to him superfluous that he should interfere; it would have been a lack of faith to have shown too much interest in what might become of me. He left me with only 1l.
I now realized the loneliness of my position; there was no earthly friend to whom I could turn for sympathy at a time like this. Before my Heavenly Father alone I could pour out the bitterness of my soul and all my griefs, and in His presence weep and pray.