At Dublin they had a few hours to wait for the boat, so they looked around the city, not forgetting the beautiful Phoenix Park.  It was evening when they went on board the steamer and to bed.  Next morning, they were awakened by the rattling of cables and chains as they slid into a dock at Liverpool.

Chester and Gilbert Strong parted company at Liverpool, the latter to attend to the business which had brought him there, the former to seek a place of lodging.  First he found 42 Islington, the headquarters of the mission, introduced himself to the elders in charge, and asked them to direct him to some cheap, but respectable lodgings.  He was shown to a nearby hotel where the missionaries usually put up, where he obtained a room.  Then he went to the steamship company’s office at the pier, obtained his trunk, and had it taken to his lodgings.  After a bath, a general clean-up and change of clothing, he was ready for the town, or all England for that matter.

He went back to “42” for further information.  He noticed that the slum district of the town pressed closely on to the office quarters, and he saw some sights even that first afternoon which shocked him:  dirty, ragged children, playing in the gutters; boys and girls and women going in to dram shops and bringing out mugs of beer; men and women drunken.  One sight specially horrified him:  a woman, dirty, naked shoulders and arms; feet and legs bare; a filthy skirt and bodice open at the breast; hair matted and wild; reeling along the pavement, crying out in drunken exclamations and mutterings.  It was the most sickening sight the young man had ever seen, and with perhaps the exception of a fight he witnessed some days later between two such characters, the worst spectacle of his life.

All this sordid life so strange and new, drew the attention of the young westerner.  Especially did 42 Islington interest him; for this was an historic spot for “Mormonism.”  From here the early missionaries had sent forth the message of salvation to Great Britain, in fact, to the whole of Europe.  Here within these dingy rooms had trod the strong, sturdy characters of the pioneer days of the Church.  Perhaps in some of these rooms Orson Pratt had written his masterly presentation of the gospel.  In those days, very likely, there were not so many noises of traffic and restless humanity.  Perhaps such men could take with them the peace and sublime solitude of their home in the Western Mountains into the confusing din of the big city, and remain undisturbed.  And these were happy, even as the present elders were, laboring, with a clear conscience for the salvation of souls.  There came to Chester, as he thought of these things, an expression he had read:  “Outside things cannot make you happy, unless they fit with something inside; and they are so few and so common that the smallest room can hold them.”

That same evening there was a meeting of the Saints which Chester attended.  The congregation was small, much smaller even than those of Chicago.  Most of the people present appeared to be of the humbler, working classes; but there was the same light in their faces as that which shone in faces on the other side of the world, when enlightened by the Spirit of God.  Everywhere, Chester noticed, this Spirit was the same, giving to rich and poor, learned and unlearned alike, the joy of its presence.