The Old Curmudgeon

<P class=MsoNormal style=MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify>. . .Miss Emma he doesn't have to be worthy to listen and accept the gospel of Jesus Christ. All he has to do is be willing. If we could only get him to listen and let us talk to him.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office /></P><P class=MsoNormal style=MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify> </P><P class=MsoNormal style=MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify> </P><P class=MsoNormal style=MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify>There were only three noticeable and important differences he could immediately observe about north <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags /><st1:State w:st=on><st1:place w:st=on>Florida</st1:place></st1:State>. First the lush-green countryside was filled with trees such as would never grow in the arid climate of <st1:State w:st=on><st1:place w:st=on>Colorado</st1:place></st1:State>. The second was the lilting often difficult-to-understand sometimes heavily-accented language spoken by the true native in the area. It was perceptible as English but was laced with colloquialisms never heard before by the farm-boy-turned-missionary. The third was the impossible humidity which left a man sweating and drained of energy before 10:00 a.m. each day during the six-month-long summer. But Elder Butters thought he would be able to adjust and he had begun to come out of his shell after a month or two. That is until he was transferred as his second assignment to the newly-formed Dixie Ward and met that old curmudgeon.</P>