When past twenty-five years of age my married life began. The family altar was at once erected, nor ever allowed to go down. But during many years of prayer, while bowed in humble reverence, to the writer came the query, "Is there really a God, or am I praying into the air?" The thought was repulsed by a fixed belief in him to whom those prayers were offered, but the tempter fled only to return again at some future time.

Nor was that question answered once for all, till after the writer and his faithful wife (of whom he learned the true and everlasting gospel) had been five years and more safe within the fold of Christ, and our twin girls were a little past four, when early on a summer Sunday morning one of the girls was taken with a violent fever.

The two elders of the little branch in Hopkins, Michigan, were called, fervent prayers were offered, and the child administered to. The fever fled instantly, but she looked more like a corpse than a living child. As she lay in bed I called her by name, and asked, "Do you feel better?"

She replied, "Yes," and instantly gave a wild scream. I picked her up and called her, and she came to herself. This was repeated, whereupon I said, "Brethren, the fever is gone but she is in danger yet; I want you to administer to her again," In a second season of prayer, all present took part, after which the anointing with oil and laying on of hands again followed. She was immediately out of danger. One week later the elder, living near, and family had gone with ox team six miles to the alternate Sunday meetings, not designing to return till Monday, and Wife had gone at her sister's call, two miles and a half distant, and did not get home till Monday, and no sooner was Father and three children left at home alone than the fever came back on that child with more fury than before, if possible.

What could I do? I could not leave them alone to get help. I was not an elder, I could only pray and work. I fought that fever with cold water all day, and plead with God with all my power of faith. The heavens seemed "brass over my head," the earth "iron under my feet," and that fever raged on. At night I put the other two children into the trundle bed, and took the one with burning flesh into my bed, saying, "I'm tired, I'll lie down awhile."

It did seem that she would be consumed before morning if I could not get help. Notwithstanding the agitation of my soul I quickly fell asleep. Almost instantly I was standing in the presence of God the Father. I knew it was the Father. I will never forget his appearance, and how he stood with his left side toward me, with his face slightly turned toward me, with a look of infinite love of which I will never lose the memory. All fear quickly fled. I stepped with my right foot toward him, reached out my right hand (but did not touch him), and said: "Come and heal her." I was instantly made to feel that I stood in the presence of the Almighty, also the infinite difference between us, and stepped back one step. At this instant he answered me, "Go thy way, she is healed." I awoke and the fever had fled, no more to return. She slept all night so sweetly, with that long, easy breathing that told that she was well. In the morning I dressed her and gave her breakfast and put her down to play with the others. That horrid question, 'Is there really a God?" has never since intruded upon the precinct of faith; I know he is. I have stood in his very presence.

The second vision was granted after the home in Michigan had been exchanged for one in what the people were pleased to call "The Mormon Colony," known to the Saints as the Lamoni Branch of the church, located in Decatur County, Iowa. The mother of my four children, who had long been the victim of that dread disease dyspepsia, held at bay by her faith in the blessings of the everlasting gospel, was prostrated upon what proved to be her death-bed.

From June of 1882 till the 13th of the following October did she linger between the ties which held her on earth, in behalf of those she loved more than life; and the joys that awaited her in paradise. To the former she clung with a tenacity born of anxiety for the welfare of her children.

Only a few hours before her final departure, we all thought her gone, but she soon returned, opened her eyes, and said, "I have had a view into the eternal world." She was, however, to remain with us only a few hours more. When the decisive moment came she passed peacefully away. On Sunday, October 15, we laid her remains quietly to rest in Rose Hill Cemetery, of Lamoni, Iowa.

Two weeks later was sacrament Sunday. The temporary church building erected in the summer of 1875, just across the highway from the home of the grief-stricken family, was the scene of the very presence and power of the Holy Spirit. The gifts of the gospel were abundantly manifest. Many wept for joy, others with broken hearts. The writer could take no part in the meeting more than to partake of the sacred emblems of the Lord's body and blood.

Four weeks rolled away without a though of the holy and most solemn ordinance. Another sacrifice Sunday was at hand.

The alarm of the clock was set to ring at five. Just before the hour a dream introduced the vision. The first thought was, I will o more drink of the fruit of the vine, till I drink it anew with you in my Father's kingdom. Four questions followed : I wonder how about the sacrament in the Father's kingdom? I wonder if I shall ever get there? If I do, shall I find Carlie there? If I do, shall I know her?

Distance intervened, when suddenly I found that I was standing before a magnificent building with massive doors. As I stepped toward them, one dear departed one met me there, a perfect picture of health and happiness, dressed in the most beautiful light attire. Her earthly tabernacle had been only six weeks before, laid in the silent tomb, a mere skeleton, she having literally starved to death. In one hand, now, she held a small plate with bread on it, in the other a little cup with wine in it.

We leave her a moment to describe the room. I looked upward to the ceiling which was higher than any I had ever seen. I looked to the right and the left, and could easily see the side walls; but could not see the farther end of the room. I said to myself, "The walls are lost in the distance."

The room was seated with tiers of seats with aisles between. To every seat there was a small table like a sewing table. On each one there was a plate and cup like those she held in her hands. Some seats were occupied by one, some by two, others were empty. The seating was promiscuous as far as I could see. This view quickly taken in.

She handed me the cup of wine, keeping the plate in her own hand, then motioned me to take and aisle near by, she taking one just to the right, stepping quickly, so that she was a step ahead of me. She led the way and I followed. I said to myself, "She goes ahead because she knows where to go." After along walk we came in sight of the other end of the room. There was a cluster of persons in plain view. I was told, "They are in charge."

There was one who seemed to be chief of all. I was told, "That is the Savior.: At this instant I noticed that a table just ahead had no cup or plate on it. When we reached that table, my escort (the wife of my youth), stopped and set the plate she held on the table and motioned me to set my cup down also. I did so, then she motioned me to sit down, and took her seat beside me. Tongue can not tell nor pen describe the joy of that moment. It seemed but a moment till the distance was made. The clock rang the alarm and I awoke at home.

I verily belief my spirit had again been absent from the body. Each of the questions had been answered. Those answers have ever since been a refuge to me when clouds have lowered and discouragement followed. They are indeed an anchor to my soul. Autumn Leaves, August, 1905. Lamoni, Iowa.