your religion the most sensible of any

We drove into Franklin, a small town on the American side of the line, opposite El Paso. The main question now was, how will we be able to pass the custom house and get our books and outfit over the line into Mexico. Many persons had told us that we would never be allowed to pass, as Catholicism ruled in that country and they would never permit us to enter with Mormon publications. Our hopes were in the overruling Power to help us. None of us pretended to have wisdom for the occasion.

We were standing in the street about noon. I was talking to a gentleman, telling him that we wished to pass over the line at once with our outfit. Our mission was to Mexico, and we felt like going ahead and getting in. We intended to remain there until spring. It was now January.

While talking with the stranger he said, pointing toward three men passing: "There go the custom officer and post master; the other man is a good interpreter. The post master is an American, but is a great friend of the custom officer. They are going into the post office now. They have just been to dinner and will be in a good humor. You had better go at once and see them."

I went to the office and inquired if I could see the custom officer. I was invited into a back room where the three sat smoking. Politeness is the rule in that country. I was asked to take a seat and offered a cigar. The custom officer inquired through the interpreter how he could serve me. I told him I was traveling with some others, seven in all, and we wished to cross over into Mexico at once, as we desired to winter there. He asked about our outfit, then our loading. I told him it consisted of the necessary utensils, provisions, clothing, etc., for travelers. Then a lot of books we intended to distribute gratis through the country.

He wanted to know what class of books they were: if religious. I told him they were. He said he would rather have some good novels; that he did not care much for religion, but asked what denomination we represented.

I told him, "Mormons."

At this all three burst into loud laughter, the post master and interpreter making many jesting remarks to the officer, and saying to me, "Yes, he will let you in. You are all right. You will get in."

I was a little puzzled, not knowing whether this was favorable or otherwise.

Soon the custom officer turned (as yet I had not spoken a word of Spanish) and said directly to me, "Well, I guess I will have to let you in. I have just been telling these gentleman that I am a Mormon in principle, and that I wished some of them would come along. That I thought your religion the most sensible of any. You will do good in Mexico, and you shall cross over. I will fix it so you will not have to pay a cent."

I now thanked him in his own language and said we would try and act so as to retain the good opinion he had of us and our people.

We shook hands as friends. He kept his word entirely, and we crossed over at once, rented quarters and got ready for the winter's campaign. We were the first Mormon missionaries that entered Mexico. This was in January, 1876.



Forty Years Among the Indians: A True Yet Thrilling Narrative of the Author's Experiences Among the Natives. By Daniel W. Jones. Juvenile Instructor, Salt Lake City, UT. 1890. CHAPTER XXXVII