I went to Geneva, Switzerland, and got a job in a cafe, and while I was there, in one of the letters from mother, she mentioned that two Mormon missionaries came to see them. This worried me very much because I knew how avoided and despised people were who became Mormons.

That night I wrote a letter home and pleaded with them not to listen to those missionaries. But I couldn’t do it, because it seemed just like a hand was stopping me from writing those words. It was the same way every time I wrote a letter home, and it made me think and wonder.

I went home for Christmas. The first evening I was home one of those missionaries came, and I was really surprised to see such a handsome young man and without any horns. I had heard that the Mormons had horns. He explained the Gospel and gave me a Book of Mormon. I read it with great interest and prayed about it. I walked many miles to attend meetings and classes which were held in different homes by the missionaries.

The people began to hate me, and when I walked through town they would throw rocks at me and holler, “Here comes the Mormon.” Even my own family made fun of me and told me I was bringing disgrace upon them. I must say that my parents were good to all those missionaries. They gave them the best food and bed they had in the house. They even went down on their knees with the missionaries when they said their morning and evening prayer.

With the help of the Lord and through prayer and study, I soon received a testimony of the Gospel, that this was the only true church and that Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God. In all these fifty years of trials and sorrow, I have never doubted for one minute that this was the only true Gospel. The spirit of gathering with the Saints in Zion came over me. Never before had I wanted to go across the ocean.

In March I went with my cousin to a conference in Bern. There was such a peaceful, heavenly spirit; the singing was so beautiful, the sermons most wonderful. I reasoned that it must be that way in Utah where so many Saints lived, and from then on, my every wish and prayer was to go to Utah. After the meeting my cousin made me acquainted with a missionary I had never seen before. He had a beard and moustache. He looked like he was not less than forty years old, old enough to have a wife and family, but I like him, and I saw him in my dreams every night after that. Most of the missionaries let their beards and moustaches grow so they would look older because the Swiss people wouldn’t believe those young boys.

I knew that in April my uncle and family were leaving to go to Utah, and I knew that would be the only time my parents would let me go, but I didn’t have any money and father didn’t have any, but I trusted the Lord, and He answered my prayers.

A year before, my oldest brother immigrated to Chicago and on the way he got pneumonia on the ship. He had to be taken to a hospital in New York. He was there several weeks. My father had to send money to pay the doctor and hospital bills. After my brother recovered from his illness, he got a job in Chicago, and he wrote father he would pay back the money. Just at the same time as I begged to be helped to go to Utah, the money came from my brother, and father let me have it. There was only enough to go to Chicago, because he didn’t want me to go to the Mormons in Utah, even though his own brother and family were going there, but I accepted it, hoping I would find a way after I got to Chicago.

On April 14, 1904, I left my parents, brothers, sisters, and beautiful Switzerland for the Gospel’s sake. We had a fairly good trip, not counting the terrible sea sickness we had to go through, as we rode third class on the ship.

After arriving in New York, we assembled with the other passengers in a big hall, and there I found out for the first time that each passenger was required to have not less than thirty dollars in cash, or they would be sent back. All I had was fifteen cents. An officer began to read names from a paper, and as the names were called, they had to go into another room to answer questions and show the thirty dollars. I shivered and shook with fear, and I prayed like I had never prayed before. Every name was called out but mine, and I sat there alone. I didn’t know how I could get away or where to go, but after a while, my cousin’s baby in the other room cried so hard, the judge sent her back to the hall where I was, and as soon as I saw her I went to her, and we walked outside, and not one of the officers we met in the way asked any questions. To me that was a wonderful answer to my prayers.

The next day at 5 a.m. I left on the train for Chicago alone, and my uncle’s family left for Utah. I was terribly afraid, as I couldn’t speak a word of English, but I was hoping my brother would be at the depot and all would be well. To my surprise, he wasn’t there. After I waited for a long time, I showed my brother’s address to a man who had a light wagon and a horse, and he said he would take me to him.

We loaded my trunk and started out. We had to go 24 blocks, and in every block there was a saloon. Every time the driver came to one, he would stop and go inside and bring out all the men to see the Swiss girl on his wagon. Most of them were drunk, and I was terrified. I decided it was a good thing I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Soon after the driver was drunk too, but we finally got to my brother’s boarding place and the landlady paid the driver. She was from my hometown.

The next day I got a job with two lady school teachers who were on a diet, but after a month I had to quit or starve. They didn’t realize that a working girl has to eat.

Then I got a job in a dormitory where 200 young ladies were boarding. I worked there two months when I had the misfortune of cutting my hand. It was so bad that I couldn’t work, and because I was so lonesome, I decided to go to Utah, the dream for which I had been praying since I came to Chicago. But I only had half of what it cost to go to Utah. I was inspired to tell a woman detective who boarded with us, and she could talk German. I told her my wish, and she said she would try to get a half-price ticket for me.

We started out Tuesday morning. We went from one depot to another without success, but about 2 o’clock we found a man who was sympathetic and he helped me get a ticket if I would leave on the 4 o’clock train. I promised I would. It took every cent I had saved up because I was getting only $3 a week. I hurried and packed my trunk, and a Negro took it to the depot. A woman gave me $2 and a sandwich, as I had nothing to eat since breakfast. The ticket would take me to Salt Lake City, and then $2 from Salt Lake City to Provo.

In Kansas City I had to change trains, and I got on the wrong train and rode a long way into Missouri. When the conductor came, he made me leave the train and told me to wait for the 7 o’clock train going back to Kansas and then take the 10 o’clock train the next morning. It was noon then.

The next morning I got on the right train, but after I left Denver the conductor told me I could ride no further on that ticket and made me leave the train on the next station. The station agent could talk German, and I told him my troubles, so he wrote a letter and pinned it to the ticket I got in Chicago and told me I could ride as far as Ogden.

The train was late when I arrived in Ogden, and as I got out, a man asked where I was going, and I said to Salt Lake. He said the train was ready to go and to hurry and get on it before it left. I told him I had no ticket. He told me I didn’t have time to buy one and he put me on the train. I was afraid there would be trouble, and I asked my Heavenly Father to help me. The train was full of people, and I wondered what to do if the conductor caused any trouble. When he came by, I handed him the ticket I still had from Chicago, which was about 15 inches long. All the passengers were watching him. Finally he handed me the ticket without saying a word and walked away.

I wanted to go to Midway where my uncle lived, as I didn’t know anyone in Salt Lake. When I got to Salt Lake I tried to get a ticket to Provo, but I was short 15¢, just what I had spent in Kansas for a cup of cocoa, and the agent wouldn’t sell me a ticket. I went outside and asked a woman to help me, and she did.

It was getting dark when I arrived in Provo Friday night without a cent, or without having eaten since Tuesday morning, except the sandwich and the cup of cocoa. I didn’t know where Midway was or which way to go, but I was impressed to go up University Avenue. I was down on the Sixth South depot, and as I walked up the road and looked up into that dark canyon, which I was certain I would have to go through to get to Midway, I got scared and asked a woman near B.Y.U. if I was on the right road to Heber, hoping she would take me in. She told me I was, and then asked me if I was German, and I told her yes. She then took me to a German family close by. The woman told me I could stay over for the night, but she couldn’t give me anything to eat as they were starving. Her husband and oldest boy had left three weeks before to find work, and she hadn’t heard from them since. I was glad I had a place to stay anyway.

I had no money to take the Heber train the next morning, so I decided to wait until 5 o’clock and go on the Excursion Train which was going halfway up in the canyon to take people to a celebration. I was hoping someone would help me. It cost 50¢. The woman walked over to Twelfth North with me, and there were about 50 people waiting for the train. If each one had given me a penny, it would have paid my fare, but no one offered to help, not even after she told them my story. All the evening before she had railed against the Mormons, and now she really cussed them. That was my introduction into Zion.

After that she took me to another German family, and they gave me $1 if I would pay them back as soon as I got to Midway, which I did.

The next morning was Sunday. They gave me something to eat and I took the train to Midway and met my uncle and his family and had my first real meal since the breakfast on Tuesday morning. That afternoon I saw a young man coming along the road, and I recognized his as the missionary I had met in Bern, even tho’ had had his beard shaved off. I didn’t know before that he lived in Midway and that he was back from his mission. I learned that he was 25, and not 40, and still single. Ten days later he baptized me and Bishop Jacob Probst confirmed me into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Two weeks later I went to Salt Lake City and worked there until April, and on April 5, 1905, I was married and sealed in the Salt Lake City Temple to the missionary who baptized me.