A Painful, but True, Story.


I have wished many times to

say something to you through your valuable

paper that would be useful and interesting,

but felt my inability. I will now tell you something that occurred in my childhood and youth, that may be interesting to you. At the tender age of eight, and until I was thirteen, the Spirit of God often strove with me. 0 how many times have the tears rolled down my face when I have heard my parents and teachers read or tell of the sufferings of Jesus. 0, how I wanted to see him, and tell him how I loved him. I could have easily kissed his dear feet, and like Mary, sat at his feet and learned of him; but that was many years ago, and not many thought then that a little child could understand  enough of the plan of salvation to be a Christian.

When I was thirteen years of age, God for Christ's sake forgave all my sins. 0, how happy I was. I never was sorry that I gave my heart to Jesus in my youth. 0 no; I can now look back and say with David, "Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life." Although I have seen much affliction, yet I have found Jesus to be a present help in every time of need.

When I was fourteen years of age my dear, kind mother was taken away from me by a violent death. I was just at that age, too, when I needed a mother's kind and tender care. My father and mother went one day to a village not far from home, and on their return they were caught in a terrible storm of wind and rain; a very large tree fell across the wagon, a heavy limb hit my dear mother and knocked her senseless, crushing the wagon-box and hind wheels, and broke the coupling. My poor mother hung to the forward wheels by her feet and clothes, and was dragged fifteen rods over stones and logs on her face. The cattle were frightened, and were hurrying home. When released from her awful situation,

Oh, how mangled and torn was my poor

mother! Oh, how it wrung my heart with anguish

to see her suffering. She was delirious for four

days, but constantly called me by name. I would

hasten to her bedside, but she would not know me.

At the end of four days she rallied, and her senses returned. My hopes revived a little, but after severe suffering for twenty-four days, she died in the triumphs of faith, and if faithful I hope to meet her where parting will be no more. 0, how I loved my mother! It seemed as if my whole being was wrapped up in her. And when her dear remains lay in the house before the funeral, I sat by her constantly, and when she was buried from my sight how desolate and drear everything seemed. I cannot describe my feelings. If any of you have ever stood by the bedside of a dying mother, and have seen her close her eyes in death, and friends lay her away in the cold and silent grave, you will understand my feelings.

Whenever I see children disobey their mother, I think they do not consider how soon they may be deprived of her tender care; and when called to give the last look, any act of disobedience or unkindness to your dear mother will then bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.

Dear readers I hope you will all try to keep the fifth commandment; such have a promise of a home in the earth made new. You, who have pious parents that are trying to lead you in the right way, 0 be kind and obedient to them.

Soon after my mother's death we broke up housekeeping, and I went to live with a kind uncle. He believed that the prayer of faith would save the sick. While there I was taken down with a sickness that had been preying on my system for some months, and was unable to stand on my feet for six months. Medical skill was baffled. They said there was no hope. I was reduced to a skeleton. I suffered the most excruciating pain constantly; no human arm could save. We then looked to the great Physician, and blessed be his holy name! He healed me. To him be all the glory. I got right up and robed myself, and walked into the next room and all around the yard and garden, praising and glorifying God.

I desire so to live that when Jesus comes I may be numbered among his jewels. I think the Instructor is an excellent little paper for children and youth. May its editor, and all its readers, be so unspeakably happy as to stand with the Lamb on mount Zion, is the prayer of your friend.


Mansion, Wis.