In April, 1852, we moved to Rochester, N. Y., under most discouraging circumstances. At every step we were obliged to advance by faith. We were still crippled by poverty, and compelled to exercise the most rigid economy and self-denial. I will give a brief extract from a letter to Brother Howland’s family, dated April 16, 1852:
(LS 142.1)
“We are just getting settled in Rochester. We have rented an old house for one hundred and seventy-five dollars a year. We have the press in the house. Were it not for this, we should have to pay fifty dollars a year for office room. You would smile could you look in upon us and see our furniture. We have bought two old bedsteads for twenty-five cents each. My husband brought me home six old chairs, no two of them alike, for which he paid one dollar, and soon he presented me with four more old chairs without any seating, for which he paid sixty-two cents. The frames are strong, and I have been seating them with drilling. Butter is so high that we do not purchase it, neither can we afford potatoes. We use sauce in the place of butter, and turnips for potatoes. Our first meals were taken on a fireboard placed upon two empty flour barrels. We are willing to endure privations if the work of God can be advanced. We believe the Lord’s hand was in our coming to this place. There is a large field for labor, and but few laborers. Last Sabbath our meeting was excellent. The Lord refreshed us with His presence.”
(LS 142.2)
Death of Robert Harmon
Soon after our family became settled in Rochester, we received a letter from my mother informing us of the dangerous illness of my brother Robert, who lived with my parents in Gorham, Maine. When the news of his sickness reached us, my sister Sarah decided to go immediately to Gorham.
(LS 143.1)
To all appearance my brother could live but a few days; yet contrary to the expectations of all, he lingered for six months, a great sufferer. My sister faithfully watched over him until the last. We had the privilege of visiting him before his death. It was an affecting meeting. He was much changed, yet his wasted features were lighted up with joy. Bright hope of the future constantly sustained him. We had seasons of prayer in his room, and Jesus seemed very near. We were obliged to separate from our dear brother, expecting never to meet him again this side of the resurrection of the just. Soon afterward my brother fell asleep in Jesus, in full hope of having a part in the first resurrection.
(LS 143.2)
Pressing On
We toiled on in Rochester through much perplexity and discouragement. The cholera visited the city, and while it raged, all night long the carriages bearing the dead were heard rumbling through the streets to Mount Hope Cemetery. This disease did not cut down merely the low, but took victims from every class of society. The most skillful physicians were laid low, and borne to Mount Hope. As we passed through the streets in Rochester, at almost every corner we would meet wagons with plain pine coffins in which to put the dead.
(LS 143.3)
Our little Edson was attacked, and we carried him to the great Physician. I took him in my arms, and in the name of Jesus rebuked the disease. He felt relief at once, and as a sister commenced praying for the Lord to heal him, the little fellow of three years looked up in astonishment, and said, “They need not pray any more, for the Lord has healed me.” He was very weak, but the disease made no further progress. Yet he gained no strength. Our faith was still to be tried. For three days he ate nothing.
(LS 144.1)
We had appointments out for two months, reaching from Rochester, N. Y., to Bangor, Maine; and this journey we were to perform with our covered carriage and our good horse Charlie, given to us by brethren in Vermont. We hardly dared to leave the child in so critical a state, but decided to go unless there was a change for the worse. In two days we must commence our journey in order to reach our first appointment. We presented the case before the Lord, taking it as an evidence that if the child had appetite to eat we would venture. The first day there was no change for the better. He could not take the least food. The next day about noon he called for broth, and it nourished him.
(LS 144.2)
We began our journey that afternoon. About four o’clock I took my sick child upon a pillow, and we rode twenty miles. He seemed very nervous that night. He could not sleep, and I held him in my arms nearly the whole night.
(LS 144.3)
The next morning we consulted together as to whether to return to Rochester or go on. The family who had entertained us said that if we went on, we would bury the child on the road; and to all appearance it would be so. But I dared not go back to Rochester. We believed the affliction of the child was the work of Satan, to hinder us from traveling; and we dared not yield to him. I said to my husband: “If we go back, I shall expect the child to die. He can but die if we go forward. Let us proceed on our journey, trusting in the Lord.”
(LS 144.4)
We had before us a journey of about one hundred miles, to perform in two days, yet we believed that the Lord would work for us in this time of extremity. I was much exhausted, and feared I should fall asleep and let the child fall from my arms; so I laid him upon my lap, and tied him to my waist, and we both slept that day over much of the distance. The child revived and continued to gain strength the whole journey, and we brought him home quite rugged.
(LS 145.1)
The Lord greatly blessed us on our journey to Vermont. My husband had much care and labor. At the different conferences he did most of the preaching, sold books, and labored to extend the circulation of the paper. When one conference was over, we would hasten to the next. At noon we would feed the horse by the roadside, and eat our lunch. Then my husband, laying his writing paper on the cover of our dinner box or on the top of his hat, would write articles for the Review and Instructor.
(LS 145.2)
Conversion of the Office Foreman
While we were absent from Rochester on this Eastern tour, the foreman of the Office was attacked with cholera. He was an unconverted young man. The lady of the house where he boarded died with the same disease, also her daughter. He was then brought down, and no one ventured to take care of him, fearing the disease. The Office hands watched over him until the disease seemed checked, then took him to our house. He had a relapse, and a physician attended him, and exerted himself to the utmost to save him, but at length told him that his case was hopeless, that he could not survive through the night. Those interested in the young man could not bear to see him die without hope. They prayed around his bedside while he was suffering great agony. He also prayed that the Lord would have mercy upon him, and forgive his sins. Yet he obtained no relief. He continued to cramp and toss in restless agony. The brethren continued in prayer all night that he might be spared to repent of his sins and keep the commandments of God. He at length seemed to consecrate himself to God, and promised the Lord he would keep the Sabbath and serve Him. He soon felt relief.
(LS 145.3)
The next morning the physician came, and as he entered, said, “I told my wife about one o’clock this morning that in all probability the young man was out of his trouble.” He was told that he was alive. The physician was surprised, and immediately ascended the stairs to his room. As he felt the pulse, he said: “Young man, you are better, the crisis is past; but it is not my skill that saved you, but a higher power. With good nursing you may get well.” He gained rapidly, and soon took his place in the Office, a converted man.
(LS 146.1)
Nathaniel and Anna White
After we returned from our Eastern journey, I was shown that we were in danger of taking burdens upon us that God did not require us to bear. We had a part to act in the cause of God, and should not add to our cares by increasing our family to gratify the wishes of any. I saw that in order to save souls we should be willing to bear burdens; and that we should open the way for my husband’s brother Nathaniel and his sister Anna to come and live with us. They were both invalids, yet we extended to them a cordial invitation to come to our home. This they accepted.
(LS 146.2)
As soon as we saw Nathaniel, we feared that consumption had marked him for the grave. The hectic flush was upon his cheek, yet we hoped and prayed that the Lord would spare him, that his talent might be employed in the cause of God. But the Lord saw fit to order otherwise.
(LS 147.1)
Nathaniel and Anna came into the truth cautiously yet understandingly. They weighed the evidences of our position, and conscientiously decided for the truth.
(LS 147.2)
May 6, 1853, we prepared Nathaniel’s supper, but he soon said that he was faint, and did not know but that he was going to die. He sent for me, and as soon as I entered the room, I knew that he was dying, and said to him: “Nathaniel dear, trust in God. He loves you, and you love Him. Trust in Him as a child trusts in its parents. Don’t be troubled. The Lord will not leave you.” Said he, “Yes, yes.” We prayed, and he responded, “Amen, praise the Lord!” He did not seem to suffer pain. He did not groan once, or struggle, or move a muscle of his face, but breathed shorter and shorter until he fell asleep, in the twenty- second year of his age.
(LS 147.3)