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Testimonies for the Church Volume 1
11. I supposed that after resting a few days I could again resume my
writing. But to my great grief I found that the condition of my brain
made it impossible for me to write. The idea of writing testimonies,
either general or personal, was given up, and I was in continual distress
because I could not write them.
In this state of things it was decided that we would return to Battle
Creek and there remain while the roads were in a muddy, broken-up
condition, and that I would there complete No. 12. My husband was
very anxious to see his brethren at Battle Creek and speak to them
and rejoice with them in the work which God was doing for him. I
gathered up my writings, and we started on our journey. On the way
we held two meetings in Orange and had evidence that the church was
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profited and encouraged. We were ourselves refreshed by the Spirit
of the Lord. That night I dreamed that I was in Battle Creek looking
out from the side glass at the door and saw a company marching up
to the house, two and two. They looked stern and determined. I knew
them well and turned to open the parlor door to receive them, but
thought I would look again. The scene was changed. The company
now presented the appearance of a Catholic procession. One bore in
his hand a cross, another a reed. And as they approached, the one
carrying a reed made a circle around the house, saying three times:
“This house is proscribed. The goods must be confiscated. They have
spoken against our holy order.” Terror seized me, and I ran through
the house, out of the north door, and found myself in the midst of
a company, some of whom I knew, but I dared not speak a word to
them for fear of being betrayed. I tried to seek a retired spot where I
might weep and pray without meeting eager, inquisitive eyes wherever
I turned. I repeated frequently: “If I could only understand this! If
they will tell me what I have said or what I have done!”
I wept and prayed much as I saw our goods confiscated. I tried
to read sympathy or pity for me in the looks of those around me, and
marked the countenances of several whom I thought would speak to
me and comfort me if they did not fear that they would be observed
by others. I made one attempt to escape from the crowd, but seeing
that I was watched, I concealed my intentions. I commenced weeping
aloud, and saying: “If they would only tell me what I have done or
what I have said!” My husband, who was sleeping in a bed in the same