You Bring Them and I’ll Read Them
    Footnotes

    “You Bring Them and I’ll Read Them,” Ensign, Sept. 1977, 75–76

    “You Bring Them and I’ll Read Them”

    One day in May 1925, the men at the foundry in London, England, were sitting around a coke fire, eating their sandwiches, when a new employee, Jack H., stood up and said, “In all my years in Canada I never heard so much bad language and dirty stories as I have heard here.”

    “What sort of people did you work with?” one man asked.

    “Mostly Mormons,” Jack replied. “And I lived with one old lady who was a Mormon, but she was so far from any church I never got to attend a meeting, but I did get to know what good lives they lived. They did not drink, smoke, or swear.”

    My husband remarked, “They would be too good to live!” But Jack challenged him to read some tracts he had at home. Always ready to accept a dare, my husband said, “You bring them, and I’ll read them.”

    The next day Jack handed him five tracts, one about the American Indians, one called Rays of Living Light, and another A Friendly Discussion. I don’t remember what the others were, but when he brought them home I practically devoured them. And so did my husband.

    We both had very religious mothers. I had been brought up in the Church of England and my husband was a Primitive Methodist. But he had attended several different churches and said he could not believe any of them. I myself had been a very odd child in the eyes of most teachers and clergymen. I kept asking questions they couldn’t answer. It really seems as though both of us had been preparing for the gospel. I had even been brought up to keep the Word of Wisdom, without my mother knowing anything about it.

    Jack and my husband searched London for a Mormon church every Saturday for six months without results. They simply could not find one. So I decided to take a hand, since I was anxious to read the Book of Mormon and find out where the American Indians came from. I sat down and wrote to the only name and address we had, the one that was on the tracts—Brigham H. Roberts, Ferndale Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

    After I had given my letter to the milkman to post for me at the other end of the road, since it was raining torrents that morning, I went upstairs and started to make the beds. Suddenly a terrible feeling came over me, and I thought I must have done wrong. So I knelt by the bed and prayed as I had never done before. I asked the Lord to forgive me if I had done wrong by writing that letter, but promised him that if I got an answer I would know I had found the true church and would join at once.

    Two months went by, and then I received a letter from the mission secretary in Toronto. He said he had written to President Talmage, who would be able to tell me how I could find the nearest church and I would be able to buy a Book of Mormon there. Imagine my joy! When my husband arrived home, I simply flew at him to tell him the good news.

    The next day I had a wonderful letter from President Talmage. I still have that letter in my book of remembrance. The church was on the northern outskirts of London at that time, and we lived on the western outskirts, so it was an awkward trip.

    The following day was Saturday, so the two men were off bright and early to find the church. When they entered the building, my husband smoking a cigarette and Jack a pipe, Brother Andre K. Anastasion met them and asked them not to smoke there, since it was contrary to the Mormon faith.

    My husband bought two copies of the Book of Mormon, knowing he would get no chance to read the book if I once got ahold of it. They talked with Brother Anastasion about the gospel for some time, and he told them the times of meetings on Sunday.

    I became very involved with my Book of Mormon because a wonderful thing happened. After we had put the children to bed that night, we sat down, one on each side of the fireplace, to read, but I had not even finished the first chapter before the room was filled with light. In fact, I felt as if I was filled with light too, and I could not go on reading. I knew it was the Holy Ghost testifying to me that this wonderful book was true.

    I have no idea how long this lasted; time simply stood still for me. At last the light faded, and I picked up my lovely book and went on reading. Do you wonder that we were baptized just three weeks later?

    Illustrated by Glen Edwards