My friend happened to see the RS President walking up the street, stopping in front of every house, looking at it for a minute, then walking on. Soon she saw the RS President come back down the street doing the same thing. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and the RS President was standing on the porch with a sack of oranges. She had bought them that day. After she got home, she had the feeling that someone needed her oranges, so she had walked up and down the road until she was impressed which house she was to give the oranges to.

We were treated pretty well by members in France, especially at Christmas time. I think it could be very hard to go hungry in France, even without the support of members — there were certainly a lot of generous people, even ones who didn’t know us any more than that we had just interrupted them with a knock on the door, who offered us something to eat and drink.

Hunter, although the autobiography was written in 1877, it looks like Denney went back at some point and added marginal notes about later events like his mission. That’s probably why he didn’t say more, not that he didn’t have more to say.

Also, I enjoyed following the link and reading Denney’s short autobiography from 1877. Funny that he devotes only a half a sentence in that account to his mission to England (in fact, I totally missed it the first time).

Finally, I found his recollection of crossing the Plains to be downright depressing; but how else to do justice to the experience of passing, one by one, each of those many barely-marked graves of travelers who didn’t make it to the Salt Lake valley? Very moving stuff. Thanks.

Regarding scrip/script, it is the former and is a means of financial exchange. Growing up, though, I thought it was script, believing that the missionaries focused on contemporaneous improvisation in their teaching. I’d much rather go without a script than scrip, personally.

I lived with 3 other elders when I was stationed in Bremen, W. Germany. We pooled our grocery money and had meals together, but once towards the end of the month food was running low. The Saturday mail delivery brought nothing, so we ate the last food in the apartment for dinner Saturday. Sunday was a fast Sunday and we had high hopes that we would be invited to a member’s home for dinner, but no luck. We were looking at 2 hungry days, because the next mail delivery wouldn’t come until Monday afternoon.

It was after dark Sunday night when our doorbell rang. Three weeks before this night, my companion and I had tracted our neighborhood and met a woman who lived alone. She had a hunchback and had a hard time getting around, and also didn’t want to hear anything about the LDS, but she must have kept our card because she knew our address.

Earlier in the afternoon she had decided to do something for “those nice American boys” and made a big pot of chicken vegetable soup, stockpot size. It was huge. This dear woman had come out in a drenching rain to knock at our door and invite us to her house for dinner. All 4 of us trooped over to her apartment where she served us soup and bread. It was one of the best meals I have ever had, and she sent us home with the leftovers. I still remember her.