A Latter-day Martyr

A Latter-day Martyr By Rey L. Pratt, President of the Mexican Mission

For three years civil war had raged in Mexico. Madero's revolution had triumphed over the dictator, Diaz, only, in turn, to be overthrown by the military defection headed by Felix Diaz, Bernardo Reyes and Manuel Mondragon. Victoriana Huerta had snatched from them the fruits of their victory over legal government in Mexico, had ruthlessly murdered President Madero and Vice President Pino Suarez, placed himself in the presidential chair and made himself dictator of Mexico. The United States had failed to recognize the usurper, Huerta; John Lind, President Wilson's special representative in Mexico, had left the capital, and, through the American embassy and the American consular service, all Americans were advised to leave the country. Anti-American feeling ran high and there was every indication that there would be war between the two countries. The little band of missionaries still left were all called into the Mission office in Mexico City and it was decided to leave the country until conditions should become more settled. Letters were written to the native branch presidents throughout the mission advising them of the resolution to abandon the field for a time, and giving them instructions in the management of affairs in their respective branches. Mission effects were packed and stored and everything was in readiness for the departure of President Pratt, his family, and all of the missionaries, on the evening train, for Vera Cruz. About 3 p. m. a young man, a convert of but three months, stepped into the almost dismantled Mission office and said: "President Pratt, words cannot convey to you my sorrow and that of my family at the thought of yourself and the elders having to leave us. We know you have brought us the truth and we thank God that we have accepted it, but we are as children in our knowledge of the gospel. What can we do when we are left to ourselves? The older branches of the mission have their branch presidents, men holding the priesthood and who can teach the people and keep them in the line of their duties, but we are new in the faith, and where we live there is no branch organization; what are we to do?" "Take this seat," replied President Pratt, placing him a

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chair, "and we will confer upon you the Melchizedek priesthood, and ordain you an elder, and set you apart as branch president over the few Saints who live where you do. You will then go back and preside over them, teach them the gospel, and if you are faithful and humble before the Lord, he will bless you with power and great wisdom in the performance of your duties." In all humility, the young man received the ordination and calling as branch president. A few hours later the missionaries all left Mexico City,

Rafael Monroy and his Mother, Sister Jesus Mera Vida de Monroy

and up to the present, owing to unsettled conditions in the country, have not been permitted to return and resume their missionary labors. Brother Rafael Monroy, for such was the young man's name, bade them farewell at the station, and the next day returned to his home in the little town of San Marcos. Seven were all that had been baptized members of the Church in this place, and besides them, there were as many more earnest investigators. Trusting in the promise of the Lord to him, Brother Rafael gathered them together and told them of what had been done, and that he had been called to preside over them. After this, regular meetings and Sunday

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Schools were held every Sunday, also once during the week. The blessings of the Lord rested upon the little branch and the noble young man called to preside over it. Through his humble and efficient labors, the number who attended the meetings regularly had increased, within a year, from about fifteen to more than seventy-five. Investigators became converts and during the two years following the organization of the branch more than fifty souls were added to it by baptism. The little town of San Marcos was situated in a part of the country where, during the first few years of the struggle in Mexico, the horrors of war did not enter. But the revolution, like a devastating fire, afterward burned its way into and over even the most secret recesses of the land, leaving in its wake little but its blackened trail and the charred and ruined walls of what once were homes. So it was that in May, 1915, this little town found itself on the firing line between the hords of Zapata, the Attila of the South, on the south, and the advancing army of Carranza, under the leadership of Obregon, on the north. For three

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Rafael Monroy, holding his little daughter, Conchita Monroy; at his left his wife, Guadalupe Hernandez de Monroy; then Natalia Monroy de McVey, sister of Rafael; Jesus Mera Vida de Monroy, mother of Rafael; Jovita Monroy, sister of Rafael; Guadalupe Monroy, sister also of Rafael. The three sisters in the group were imprisoned when trying to obtain the release of their brother Rafael.

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months the battle raged between the contending forces, with the town now in the hands of the Zapatistas, and now in the hands of the Carranzistas. Our little band of Saints nobly struggled on in the midst of all this, without taking part on either side, and held their meetings and Sunday Schools many times, even while battles were being fought and bullets were flying over the house in which their services were held. Devotion to their faith had won them many friends, but, as is always the case where truth is established, Satan put hatred into the hearts of some of the people against them. Among these was a neighbor of Brother Rafael who had it in his heart not only to hate those who professed another faith to his, but also, if possible, to destroy both it and those who professed it. On July 17, after a battle of several hours, the town, which for several weeks had been held by the Carranzistas, was taken by the Zapatistas. The neighbor spoken of saw now his opportunity to strike what he thought would be a fatal blow at the little branch, by denouncing its leader, to the conquering hordes of Zapata, as a colonel who had fought against them on the side of the Carranzistas; and further that he was a "Mormon," the leader of those who professed that strange religion in the little village, and was perverting the people and leading them off after other gods. Zapata and his followers are intensely fanatic and fight their battles in the name of the Virgin of Guadalupe, avowing the destruction of all who oppose her. So Brother Rafael, soon after their entrance into the town, found his home surrounded by an armed troop of men. He and Brother Vicente Morales, who was there with him, were placed under arrest. The Zapatistas demanded that they give up their arms, but Brother Rafael, confident in the fact that he was innocent, as far as having arms, and fighting with them, simply drew from his pocket his Bible and his Book of Mormon and said: "Gentlemen, these are the only arms I ever carry; they are the arms of truth against error." "His answer only infuriated the mob. He and his companion were now held securely while his house and belongings were searched for the arms that were supposed to be hidden there. But no arms were found, so the brethren were submitted to all kinds of torture in an endeavor to make them divulge the place where arms were hidden. At last ropes were placed round their necks and thrown over the limbs of a tree; but before the knots were tightened they were told that if they would forsake their strange religion and join with the Zapatistas, they would be placed at liberty. But Brother Rafael replied:

724 IMPROVEMENT ERA "My religion is dearer to me than iny life and i cannot forsake it." At this they were raised from the ground by the ropes around their necks and suspended in the air till unconscious. But their tormentors were not ready to see them die, so let them down and revived them. At this stage the three sisters of Brother Rafael, even at their own peril, went to the commander of the Zapatistas to intercede for their brother and Vicente. But their tears and prayers were vain, and they, too, were made prisoners and thrown into a room under heavy guard. This was about 10 a. m., and some time later, after all attempts, made with cruel tortures, had failed to make Brothers Rafael and Vicente divulge the hiding place of arms they did not M ave, and make them forsake the gospel they held dearer than life, they, too, were taken to the same room where the sisters were held. As best he could, Brother Rafael comforted his sisters, and told them to trust in the Lord and all would be well. He asked for water and bathed his hands and face and the chafed neck where the hangman's cruel rope had. nearly strangled his life out. He then drew from his pocket his Bible and Book of Mormon, and occupied the remainder of the afternoon in reading the scriptures and explaining the gospel to his guards and fellow prisoners. All day long the poor distracted mother had gone from one office to another, protesting that her children were innocent of any crime and begging for their release, but it was without avail. It was not until about 7 p. m. that she was even permitted to take them any food, and was not even then permitted to take it into them nor see them, but had to send it in by a guard. The grief and fear of the sisters were greater than their desire for food, but under the consoling and encouraging words of Brother Rafael, they were persuaded to spread out their little repast and prepare to partake of it. When all was arranged, Brother Rafael asked for the attention from the rest of the prisoners, and permission from the guards, to ask a blessing on the food. In a voice that all could hear, he thanked God for it, and for all of his blessings. Then, in a quiet way to his sisters, he said: "Partake of the food, but I will not partake, for I am fasting today." A few moments later an orderly came in and called for Rafael Monroy and Vicente Morales, and commanded them to follow him. By this time it was getting dark, and they were conducted under guard to the outskirts of the little town. There they were stood up by a large ash tree and in front of a firing squad. The officer in charge again offered to them their freedom if they would forsake their strange religion and join the

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Zapatistas, but the brethren, as firmly as before, replied that their religion was dearer than life, and that they would not forsake it.

They were then told that they were to be shot, and asked if they had any request to make. Brother Rafael requested that he be permitted to pray before he was executed and there, ;

in the presence of his executioners, he kneeled and, in a voice that all could hear, prayed God to bless and protect his loved ones, and to care for the little struggling branch that would be left without a leader. As he finished his prayer he used the words of the Savior when he, himself, hung upon the cross, and prayed for his executioners, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Not once did he pray that his own life might be spared; but when his prayer was finished, he stood up and folded his arms and said, "Gentlemen, I am at your service." The report of six rifles rang out on the night air, and was echoed to the sisters waiting in the little prison room, and to the mother and wife waiting in despair in their little home, conveying to them the knowledge that Rafael and Vicente had given up their lives, martyrs to the cause that they loved more than their lives The circumstances attending the execution were told to the family afterwards by a soldier who witnessed them, and he said that in all his experience he never saw men die with greater courage, nor had he ever heard such a prayer as that offered by Brother Rafael. As if in grief over the great tragedy, and an effort to wash the earth clean of the stains of innocent blood, a tropical storm broke over the little village, and the rain came down in torrents. But out into the darkness, and in the face of the storm, went the heart-broken old mother of Brother Rafael, to find, if possible, the body of her dear, dead son. For, though she had pleaded with the soldiers, they would not tell her where he lay; and it was not until four in the morning that she found him. In recounting it afterwards, she said, "Surely the Lord was with me and strengthened me that night, for I, who had many times fainted at the sight of blood, was able, alone, and without fear, to keep watch over my boy and his companion from the time I found them till daylight came." The three sisters were held all night as prisoners, and the following morning the soldiers were making preparations to take them with them, but the mother went again before the general and implored him, now that her son was dead, to spare to her her daughters. This request he granted and about 8 a. m. the girls were liberated. Orders were given to arrest and execute any man wlm

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should attempt to move (the bodies of the two murdered brethren; so, there was nothing left for the grief-stricken mother, wife and sisters to do but themselves to remove the bodies and bury them as best they could. They improvised a stretcher and carried them half a mile home, and with their own hands prepared them for burial, and buried them. No doubt the perpetrators of this crime thought that with the death of the leader, the strange religion in their midst would come to an end. But just so thought those who put the prophets of old to death, and those who crucified the Savior of the world; and later those who murdered the Prophet Joseph Smith. But such was not the case, for the little branch has not only survived, but has grown since, and the faith of its members is stronger than ever. Mother never loved a son with more devotion and tenderness than did the widowed mother of Brother Rafael. He was her only son, her mainstay and only support; and his love for her was only equaled by that of hers for him. Their devotion to each other in life was an inspiration to all who saw it. And only the Lord and those who have had similar experience to hers, know the depth of her grief at the death of her son! But it has been one of the greatest inspirations that has ever come to the author of this article, to have witnessed the resignation, devotion to the Lord, and faithfulness with which she has borne her sorrow. There seems to be no bitterness in her soul, not even for those who committed the awful crime, and she says she is willing to leave their case with the Lord and let him deal with them as seemeth him good. Her spirit is better manifest than by any description of mine, in her own words with which she closed a letter to me in describing the whole sad affair. She said: "Brother Pratt, great, great, indeed, have been our afflictions, but greater still is our faith, and we will not falter!" Manassa, Colo.

Time and Eternity. What is Time? But a moment, the present, the now; It is ours when we have it, when past 'tis no more; It belongs to Eternities gone, while we wait For the next one which comes from Eternity's shore.

Eternity! "What? No beginning, no end! The universe swings in its infinite sweep, 'Tis the day of the Gods, all unbroken, intact, No finite can grasp it, nor climb up its steep. —Henry W. Naisbitt.