Life Sketches

Again I was called to deny self for the good of souls. We must sacrifice the company of our little Henry, and go forth to give ourselves unreservedly to the work. My health was very poor, and should I take my child, he would necessarily occupy a large share of my time. It was a severe trial, yet I dared not let him stand in the way of duty. I believed that the Lord had spared him to us when he was very sick, and that if I should let him hinder me from doing my duty, God would remove him from me. Alone before the Lord, with a sorrowful heart and many tears, I made the sacrifice, and gave up my only child to be cared for by another.

We left Henry in Brother Howland’s family, in whom we had the utmost confidence. They were willing to bear burdens, in order that we might be left as free as possible to labor in the cause of God. We knew that they could take better care of Henry than we could should we take him with us on our journeys. We knew that it was for his good to have a steady home and firm discipline, that his sweet temper might not be injured.

It was hard to part with my child. His sad little face, as I left him, was before me day and night; yet in the strength of the Lord I put him out of my mind, and sought to do others good.

For five years Brother Howland’s family had the whole charge of Henry. They cared for him without any recompense, providing all his clothing, except a present that I brought him once a year, as Hannah did Samuel.

Healing of Gilbert Collins

One morning in February, 1849, during family prayers at Brother Howland’s, I was shown that it was our duty to go to Dartmouth, Mass. Soon after, my husband went to the post office, and brought a letter from Brother Philip Collins, urging us to come to Dartmouth, for their son was very sick. We went immediately, and found that the boy, who was thirteen years old, had been sick for nine weeks with the whooping cough, and was wasted almost to a skeleton. The parents thought him to be in consumption, and they were greatly distressed to think that their only son must be taken from them.

We united in prayer for the boy, and earnestly besought the Lord to spare his life. We believed that he would get well, though to all appearances there was no possibility of his recovery. My husband raised him in his arms, exclaiming as he walked the room, “You will not die, but live!” We believed that God would be glorified in his recovery.

We left Dartmouth, and were absent about eight days. When we returned, little Gilbert came out to meet us. He had gained four pounds in weight. We found the household rejoicing in God over this manifestation of divine favor.

Healing of Sister Temple

Having received a request to visit Sister Hastings, of New Ipswich, N. H., who was greatly afflicted, we made the matter a subject of prayer, and obtained evidence that the Lord would go with us. On our way we stopped at Dorchester, with Brother Otis Nichols’s family, and they told us of the affliction of Sister Temple of Boston. On her arm she had a sore, which caused her much anxiety. It had extended over the bend of the elbow. She had suffered great agony, and had in vain resorted to human means for relief. The last effort had driven the disease to her lungs, and she felt that unless she obtained immediate help, the disease would end in consumption.

Sister Temple had left word for us to come and pray for her. We went with trembling, having sought in vain for the assurance that God would work in her behalf. We went into the sickroom, relying upon the naked promises of God. Sister Temple’s arm was in such a condition that we could not touch it, and were obliged to pour the oil upon it. Then we united in prayer, and claimed the promises of God. The pain and soreness left the arm while we were praying, and we left Sister Temple rejoicing in the Lord. On our return, eight days later, we found her in good health, and hard at work at the washtub.

The Family of Leonard Hastings

We found Brother Leonard Hastings’ family in deep affliction. Sister Hastings met us with tears, exclaiming, “The Lord has sent you to us in a time of great need.” She had an infant about eight weeks old, which cried continually when awake. This, added to her wretched state of health, was fast wearing away her strength.

We prayed earnestly to God for the mother, following the directions given in James, and we had the assurance that our prayers were heard. Jesus was in the midst of us to break the power of Satan and release the captive. But we felt sure that the mother could not gain much strength until the cries of the child should cease. We anointed the child and prayed over it, believing that the Lord would give both mother and child peace and rest. It was done. The cries of the child ceased, and we left them both doing well. The gratitude of the mother could not be expressed.

Our interview with that dear family was very precious. Our hearts were knit together; especially was the heart of Sister Hastings knit with mine as were those of David and Jonathan. Our union was not marred while she lived.

Moving to Connecticut in 1849

[Note.—After the visit to the Hastings family in New Ipswich, Elder and Mrs. White returned to Maine, going by way of Boston, and arriving at Topsham March 21, 1849. The following Sabbath, while worshiping with the little company in that place, Mrs. White was given a vision in which she saw that the faith of one of the brethren in Paris, Maine, was wavering, and this led her to feel that it was her duty to visit the company there. “We went,” she wrote in a letter to Brother and Sister Hastings, “and found they needed strengthening.... We spent one week with them.... God gave me two visions while there, much to the comfort and strength of the brethren and sisters. Brother Stowell was established in all the present truth he had doubted.”

After returning to Topsham, they were in much perplexity as to where they should spend the summer. Invitations had come from brethren in New York and in Connecticut, and in the absence of positive light they decided to respond to the call from New York. They wrote a letter giving directions regarding their arrival at Utica, where some of the brethren might meet them. Soon, however, Mrs. White felt burdened and oppressed. Her husband, seeing her distress, burned the letter they had just written, knelt down, and prayed that the burden might be rolled away. The next day’s mail brought to them a letter from Brother Belden, of Rocky Hill, Conn., containing means sufficient to enable them to move to Connecticut, and urging them to accept the invitation. Elder and Mrs. White saw in this hearty invitation the manifest providence of God, and decided to go, believing that the Lord was opening the way before them.]

In June, 1849, Sister Clarissa M. Bonfoey proposed to live with us. Her parents had recently died, and a division of furniture at the homestead had given her everything necessary for a small family to commence housekeeping. She cheerfully gave us the use of these things, and did our work. We occupied a part of Brother Belden’s house at Rocky Hill. Sister Bonfoey was a precious child of God. She possessed a cheerful and happy disposition, never gloomy, yet not light and trifling.

Living Waters—A Dream

My husband attended meetings in New Hampshire and Maine. During his absence I was much troubled, fearing he might take the cholera, which was then prevailing. But one night I dreamed that while many around us were dying with the cholera, my husband proposed that we should take a walk. In our walk I noticed that his eyes looked bloodshot, his countenance flushed, and his lips pale. I told him that I feared that he would be an easy subject for the cholera. Said he, “Walk on a little further, and I will show you a sure remedy for the cholera.”

As we walked on, we came to a bridge over a stream of water, when he abruptly left me and plunged out of sight into the water. I was frightened; but he soon arose, holding in his hand a glass of sparkling water. He drank it, saying, “This water cures all manner of diseases.” He plunged in again out of sight, brought up another glass of clear water, and as he held it up repeated the same words.

I felt sad that he did not offer me some of the water. Said he: “There is a secret spring in the bottom of this river which cures all manner of diseases, and all who obtain it must plunge at a venture. No one can obtain it for another. Each must plunge for it himself.” As he drank the glass of water, I looked at his countenance. His complexion was fair and natural. He seemed to possess health and vigor. When I awoke, all my fears were dispelled, and I trusted my husband to the care of a merciful God, fully believing that He would return him to me in safety.