Mary Sabin Powell's Story ... continued

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"You've come a long way to aid a sick friend," said she. "Your actions speak louder than your words. It is a good religion that directs you. I'm glad you came. I'm sure your presence here will help John."
"Goodnight John," said Lady Hall as she and her maid departed.

Father was administered to by the Elders. They promised that he should get well and go to Utah and work on the Temple. Father failed in health but was not as strong as formerly. He went back to work as an overseer of the mansions.

Sir Benjamin Hall returned home. He urged Father to safeguard his health. Father thanked him. Said he, "Give your orders and let the men carry them out. Go home each day before sundown. You need to look out for your health. I want to keep you, John, as long as I can."

By this time there was quite a stir over religion in that part of Wales where we lived. There were revivals among the various sects. Father supported a local missionary, Brother Owens, and also his wife, in our home for more than one year. Father counseled Brother Owens to be careful and peaceable and considerate of the feelings of others. He did not want him to draw persecution upon himself or the Saints.

Brother Owens was rather bold and radical. One night he stood on a rock and was preaching to the people; the crowd began stoning him. He predicted that earthquake and fear would come upon those who had mistreated a gospel messenger. That evening an earthquake actually did take place.

I had many long walks in Wales. It is a pretty place full of beautiful trees and rivers and parks and ancient dwellings. These were thatched with straw or slate or tile. Many of the houses were built upon plateaus.

At Christmas time where we lived we could go gather holly. How beautiful were the round-shaped holly trees with their bright green leaves and red berries. Then there was the long-leafed laurel with its glistening white bloom - how I admired it!

"Flowering Sunday" was the name we gave to Decoration Day. It came in the month of May. We always went to the cemetery on that day. The Independent Methodist Chapel stood in the midst. We took flowers and decorated all the graves. The minister's wife patted me on the shoulder and said, "You and your sisters are good little girls. I hate to see you go to Utah. I and my little girls will remember you and decorate the graves for "Flowering Sunday" when you are gone.

The next winter Father finished up his work and served notice to Sir Benjamin Hall that he was going to Utah. Sir Benjamin Hall wrote to his secretary, "Tell Powell not to let a question of money come between us."

No one in the village wanted us to leave. Folks knew our furniture was for sale, yet they were reluctant about coming to buy. One woman remarked, "Eliza, you don't seem able to sell your furniture. Shall we go and take it?"
"Help yourselves," Mother said, "we're going to Utah even if we don't sell one piece."
This started the sale. Feather beds, bedsteads, rugs, bedding, all went at a moderate price. What we didn't get to give away we left in the home.

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