Ramsgate is a pretty town on the east coast. It being Sunday, the shops were closed and the streets quiet. After some enquiries and searching, the local elder was found in the outskirts of the town. The two visitors were warmly received. A good old-fashioned English dinner was served, after which the few Saints living in the vicinity gathered for meeting. Never before had Chester Lawrence experienced the comforting Spirit of the Lord as in that service when he partook with those simple, open-minded people the sacrament, and listened to their testimonies, in which he mingled his own.
After the services, there was the usual lingering to shake hands and exchange good words. In the midst of the confusion of voices and laughter, a large man appeared in the open doorway, and immediately there was a hush. It was the parish priest, round and sleek, yet stern of countenance. He looked about the room and found a good many of his neighbors present.
"Well, good people," said he, "what are you doing here?"
The local elder explained civilly the purpose of the gathering.
"But these men who are holding these services are 'Mormons,' and I come to warn you that they are wolves in sheep's clothing. Beware of them, let them alone," said the priest in rising accents.
The people stood about the room, quietly listening. Elder Malby and Chester were yet by the table which had served as a pulpit, and to them the priest advanced.
"Are you the 'Mormon' elders?" he demanded.
"We have that honor," serenely replied Elder Malby.
"You ought to be ashamed to come here to a Christian community with your vile doctrine. I warn you to keep away."
"Will you be seated, sir?" asked Elder Malby, who took charge of the situation. A number of people, who had evidently followed the priest to see the "fun," came in and gathered round.