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By Henry Thomas Stolworthy

There was sadness in a lonely pioneer home in Utah, for within a darkened room a baby girl lay dying. Five babies had been born to this father and mother, and four little graves left in lonely places told of the sacrifice and sorrow. Small wonder that the hot tears fell upon the sick baby’s face as the mother knelt over the tiny crib.

A neighbor lady had kindly come in to keep the stricken mother company for the busy, hard-working father was away. The baby had taken worse in the night and the mother had been up long before daybreak doing everything that was in her power to relive the little ones suffering. Her hands were gentle and soothing, for she was a born nurse, but the baby grew worse and now she seemed to be dying.

The neighbor lady put a fresh stick of wood on the fire for it was snowing outside, and the wind that accompanied the storm sought out the cracks in the rude log house. Then she spoke gently to the weeping mother:

“God is good: He can heal your baby Sister Stolworthy.”

The mother did not doubt the goodness of God for she had learned to say, “Thy will be done.” but for some purpose her other babies had been taken, and she turned a deaf ear to the sister’s comforting words.

Suddenly the door of the room opened, letting in cool, fresh air, and a few willful snowflakes. Turning, the women beheld a strange man. His hair was white and long, yet his step was firm and vigorous. He closed the door softly and came forward, putting out a friendly hand, and in a soft musical voice said: “It is nice in here. How good the fire feels.”

“You are cold,” the mother said, forgetting her fears for a moment, for a strange, sweet peace filled the room

“Oh no,” the stranger replied. “But it is cheerful by the fire. I called to see your sick baby.”

Long afterwards the mother thought his strange words, but now she did not even wonder at his presence. She led him to the tiny crib and he bent low, touching the baby’s golden head with his long white hands, speaking softly words the mother could not understand. He stood up and a heavenly smile played about his mouth.

“Sister Stolworthy,” he said, “You have known great sorrow and bereavement. Your little girl will live, and you will yet raise a family.”

He reached down gently touching the baby’s head again, and raising his hands said: “Peace be in this house.” and went out closing the door softly behind him.

The mother found the baby’s breathing easy, and its little brow was moist and cool. Filled with wonder and joy she turned to the neighbor lady saying, “My baby has been healed. The fever is broken.” and a look of questioning filled her brown eyes. “But who was the kind stranger? I must call him back and thank him!”

They rushed outside looking anxiously up and down the street, but no one was in sight. His tracks showed plainly in the freshly falling snow and they followed them to the gate, where they disappeared entirely.

As the days passed and they did not see the man again or hear of him, they made inquiries about town, but no one had seen the stranger but themselves. How strange it was that they had not thought to ask his name.

The stranger’s promise was fulfilled, for four girls and one rough and ready boy came to that home and are still living.

My mother always felt that the stranger was one of the three Nephites who was permitted by the Savior to live upon the earth until His second coming. To them the power was given to bless and help the people here on earth. And who will say that it was not as my mother thought, for who would need help more than a mother bereaved so many times?