Benjamin F. Johnson (1818-1905)

I was born July 28, 1818, in the town of Pomfret, Chatauqua County, New York. My father, Ezekiel Johnson, was born in Uxbridge, Massachusetts, January 12, 1776, and my mother, Julia Hills, was born in Upton, Massachusetts, September 26, 1783.

To my parents were born sixteen children, namely: Joel Hills, Nancy Maria, Seth Gurnsey, Delcina Diadamia, Julia Ann, David, Almera Woodard, Susan Ellen, Joseph Ellis, Benjamin Franklin, Mary Maria, Elmer Wood, George Washington, William Derby, Esther Meleta and Amos Partridge. Excepting Elmer W., who died in infancy, all arrived at maturity, and all were among the first to embrace the fullness of the gospel.

In 1806 my parents moved from Royalton, Massachusetts, to Westford, Crittenden County, Vermont, from which place, in 1814, they moved to the place of my birth, in western New York.

My earliest recollections are of pioneer life, clearing deep forests with great labor for my parents, to obtain but scanty living comforts. While gathering forest nuts, wild fruits and flowers, with the tender care of (to me) a beloved and beautiful mother, loving elder sisters, and companionship of my almost twin brother; these were to me the happy features of my childhood and early youth.

At about 4 years of age, the death of my 18-month-old brother, Elmer Wood, brought to me a deep and lasting sorrow and grief, that through childhood often wet my pillow with tears and saddened my lonely hours. My mother possessed high religious veneration, and early taught me faith in God and the necessity of prayer. At this early period, so soon after the war of 1812, and in what was then a wild and almost frontier region, with heavy primeval forests to clear away before a meager crop of anything could be raised from the virgin soil for food, it seemed to require a giant fortitude and great patience on the part of all, to wait for results. My father for a series of years wrestled with the herculean task of clearing off the forests, but worn with incessant labors and the care of so large a family, he sought for a stimulus, and in my earliest childhood became addicted to the use of ardent spirits. Neither his labors nor his love for his family seemed to diminish, yet the fiend of unhappiness had entered our home to break the bonds of union between our parents and to destroy the happiness of their children. In looking back over my childhood it almost seems that I was born to be a child of sorrow, for such was my love for both of my parents that because of the troubles and unhappiness my heart at times would seem almost ready to burst with sorrow and grief, and a feeling always seemed with me to wish that I had died at my birth, or that I never had been born.

With the deepest sympathies for our father's hard labors all his boys early learned to be helpful, and even at six years of age I was accustomed to follow him in the summertime to the forests and fields, to pile and burn the brush, or in planting time, to drop the seeds, or in haying, open the swaths for drying the hay, and no one then old enough to become in any way a help was left to be idle. All our support and home comforts were produced by our home industry; from the wool all our winter clothing was made for the men and boys, and from the flax all the summer clothing both for women and men; also all the bed and table linen and toweling. At this period young women were not thought qualified for marriage, who could not, through their own industry provide all these things. Our cheese, butter and honey were home products, as also sugar, thousands of pounds of which we made from maple forests; while soap and candle making, with beer brewing were common, homelike events.

While yet in childhood I was accompanied by my mother or those older than myself each Sabbath to the Sunday School and Presbyterian meeting. Here I learned to read and write from the Bible and to begin to be afflicted with the idea of a future punishment, with literal fire and brimstone to those who did not "get religion" or a "change of heart." Before I was ten years of age I was greatly exercised with anxiety and fear upon this subject, and until I was past 13 years of age, and had received the gospel, I did not cease to attend all their religious meetings and revivals, hoping I might obtain that forgiveness of sins that would release me from the fears of that awful burning pit so powerfully portrayed.

In my earlier years, although but a child, I was often led to wonder at the difference between the present and former religions, and especially in the life and character of their advocates. And in reading of the persecution of our Savior, His apostles, and the prophets, my very soul would become enthused with the wish that I had lived in their day, or that the day of prophets and revelation might come again while I yet lived.

In the year 1829, in our village paper, was published an account of some young man professing to have seen an angel, who had shown and delivered to him golden plates, engraved in a strange language and hid up in the earth, from which he had translated a new Bible, and I could hardly refrain from wishing or hoping it might be so. I think it was the year previous that there was seen at night in the heavens a large ball of light, like fire, which passed from the east to the western horizon. My older brothers who were out hunting coons, saw it and came home to tell of the wonder they had seen. When I asked my mother what its cause or meaning was, she said it was one of the signs of the near approach of the coming of Christ, or the day of judgment. This remained upon my mind a subject of deep thought, and I afterwards learned from those who should know, that this sign was given the night following the day on which the plates were taken from the earth by the Prophet Joseph.

In childhood my advantages for parental instruction and discipline were not great, owing to my mother's large family and my father's intemperate habits, but no influence was so potent as the love of my parents and my home, to restrain me to obedience and to the love of truth. Yet in no degree was my mother or my elder sisters remiss in their Sunday readings, and teaching us from the Bible, or at other times when opportunity would permit. My school education was less than it would have been, had I loved school more, and possessed a greater aptitude for learning. My bashfulness and great susceptibility to slight or ridicule made me jealous and fearful, and did much to suppress my capability to learn. When about nine years of age my brother Seth, then about 21, commenced to teach our district winter school, and in summer it was taught by Nancy, my eldest sister, but from this period I was permitted to attend only the winter terms. My brother, Joseph E., who was just fifteen months older than myself, possessed all the facilities for acquiring education that I lacked. We were constant companions, and he, being capable of taking the first prizes in our school, my pride and anxiety all followed with him, so that if duties at home were likely to interfere with his success, I assumed them, even in staying from school, through fear that he would not obtain the highest prize or honors of our school and class. Thus things continued with me, and I made slow progress in my schooling.

About 1830 my oldest brother, Joel H., sold his farm and mill and moved out to Amherst, in Loraine County, Ohio, soon after my oldest sister, Nancy, was thrown from a horse and her thigh bone was broken close to its hip socket. This to me seemed a terrible calamity, especially as the doctors told us she would remain a cripple for life.

About this time we began to hear more about the "Golden Bible" that had been found by "Joe Smith" the "money digger," etc., etc. My elder brother, David, having gone to visit Joel H. in Amherst, Ohio, had remained there until the next season, in the spring of which the first elders, going from Kirtland to Missouri, stopped and raised up a large branch of the Church into which both of my brothers were baptized. Previous to this, rumors had come from Ohio of the spread of what was called "Campbellism," a new sect, of which Sidney Rigdon was then the chief apostle, and through fear that my brothers would become deluded by the new doctrines, my mother had written a letter of caution to them, which was soon answered to say that they had both joined the "Mormonites" (then so called), believers in the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon or "Golden Bible." This news came upon us almost as a horror and a disgrace. The first news was soon followed by the Book of Mormon, accompanied by a lengthy explanation, on the receipt of which my mother, brother Seth, sister Nancy, and Lyman R. Sherman, with some of the neighbors, all devoted to religion, would meet together secretly to read the Book of Mormon and accompanying letter, or perhaps to deplore the delusion into which my brothers had fallen. But their reading soon led to marveling at the simplicity and purity of what they read, and at the spirit which accompanied it, bearing witness to its truth. After a few days of secrecy I was permitted to meet with them, to hear it read, being then 13 years of age; and in listening, a feeling of the most intense anxiety came over me to learn more. It seemed as if I must hear it all before I could be satisfied; and the principle of faith began to spring up in my heart to believe it. This was in the early fall of 1831. Now a bright hope began to arise in my heart that there really was a living prophet on the earth, and my greatest fear was that it would not prove true.

Later in the fall my brothers came from Ohio to see us and bear their testimony, and were accompanied by Almon W. Babbitt, then not seventeen years of age. They bore a faithful testimony, but neither of them seemed capable of teaching in a public capacity. As a family we were being converted to the truth, when unexpectedly there came to us Elders James Brackinbury and Jabez Durfee. Elder Brackinbury was a capable man and a great reasoner, and the Spirit of the Lord rested mightily upon him, confirming the words we had already received. My mother, and Lyman R. Sherman, my brother-in-law, were soon baptized, shortly followed by the baptism of all my brothers and sisters who had attained their majority. At this time my father was employed upon job work as a canter in Fredonia and not being inclined to accept the gospel, would not permit us minor children to receive our baptism. My mother, brothers, sisters, brother-in-law and neighbors who were now in the church had always been esteemed among the most eminent in religious society, and the news spreading around, the priests began to howl about Faith, Prophets, and Delusions, and to do all possible to turn us away from the truth, calling publicly for "signs," etc., asking why my sister Nancy, who then walked upon crutches, was not healed? But upon the subject of her being healed I have written more full in "Faith Promoting Series."

Chapter TWO EARLY EXPERIENCES IN THE CHURCH

All my father's family, except himself, now believed, and with many of our neighbors had obeyed the gospel, except those under age. And now it seemed as though Satan was permitted to try both our faith and our fortitude, for after a few weeks of the most powerful and successful preaching, in the midst of ridicule, scoffing and persecution, Elder Brackinbury was taken sick and within a few days died. Our enemies now felt they had a great triumph; for where now were the gifts of the gospel when our strongest man could die, and my sister, though she had embraced the gospel, was yet upon her crutches? These things seemed at the time a great trial, yet in no decree did it dampen the faith of any, and while listening to the ravings of our enemies, the truth, with the love of it, became the more deeply planted in my heart.

The evening after the funeral and burial of Elder Brackinbury all were gathered at my mother's with the feeling of mourning, and praying together. Late in the evening my brother David felt troubled in mind, and when interrogated, said our enemies were then digging up the body of Elder Brackinbury. They soon started to the graveyard, which was about one mile distant, and on their approach found a party of men around, and one in the grave just ready to remove the body. They instantly fled and were pursued by my brothers and friends. My brother David captured a large and powerful young man, older than himself, and nearly double his size, who was brought before a magistrate, and bound over to appear at the next term of court.

My brother Joel on his return in early spring to Ohio, wished me to accompany him, which I did, and although only past thirteen years old, traveled on foot over 200 miles one week, carrying my bundle of clothing. The year previous I had cut my ankle with an axe, took cold in it, and for a time it was feared I would lose my leg. The ankle was still weak, and the misery of that journey can only be known by my good angel and myself.

In the course of the summer, my father, Seth, Susan, and others came from our home in New York to Kirtland, Ohio, saw the Prophet Joseph, and later came to us in Amherst. My father then appeared favorably impressed, and to all appearance was becoming confirmed in the faith and truth of the gospel.

While in Amherst, at my brother Joel's a mania seemed to come over Seth, whom we all so dearly loved, and who was regarded by all as a gentleman and a scholar--a pattern for all young men. Apparently this was because of his extreme anxiety to see our father converted to the truth and redeemed from intemperance. Our first intimation of this mania was the discovery that he had left the house in the night, and when, after anxious searching and waiting for him, he came back about 10 o'clock A.M. next day, his mind in a wild and deranged condition. We found he had traveled near 100 miles in that short period of time. He returned home with my father, and remained weakened in mind for a few months, but was the same fall able to come to Ohio, from which place, after a short stay, I accompanied him home, after which he became to all appearance perfectly sound in mind.

Our hopes that our father would embrace the gospel were blighted, for all the light that had been reflected upon his understanding seemed turned to darkness, and so great was his darkness that at times it appeared like the buffetings of the Evil One.

Thus things remained until my father concluded to sell our home in New York and move to Chicago, which then was but a small frontier town. With this view he sold his two farms in the fall of 1832, and in the early spring of 1833 sailed up the lakes with the understanding that we were to give possession before the first of June and he would send us instructions as to when we were to come to him. But time passed, and no letter of instruction came; and being compelled to give possession of our home, we started for Ohio, and arrived at Kirtland early in June 1833. Some of our wagons and teams were traded for a home on what was then called "Kirtland Flat," close by the schoolhouse. My father at Chicago had bought a quarter section of land, and had written, but through some overruling providence his letters miscarried, and after waiting a length of time he disposed of his land and returned, to find us all at Kirtland. My mother being unwilling to leave Kirtland, my father concluded to remain, though apparently under protest, for his feelings had now become bitter through his disappointment. And here I will say, that although my father was apparently opposed to the truth, and had developed habits, yet he was a man of the highest organization. As a husband and parent, he was by nature the most tender and affectionate. As a neighbor and friend, most obliging and true, and was a man of truth and honor among men. Never was a question known to be raised as to his integrity, for his word was his bond; and in all things he was a gentleman in the fullest sense, except only in the habit of intemperance, which at times would seem to change his whole nature. He was a man of full middle stature, about 5 ft. 10 in. in height; of solid build, fine light brown hair, a mild but piercing blue eye, with light smooth skin, and of natural personal attractions. He was beloved and sought after by his friends, and for his words only he was feared and avoided, for with no other blow than words was he ever known to strike anything big.

In the fall of 1833, while yet there were but few saints in Kirtland, and those all of the poorer class, it was required by the Lord that a temple should be built at that place. As at first it was designed to build it of brick, my brother Joel H. was called upon to burn them. After obtaining a brickyard belonging to Brothers Joseph and Thomas Hancock, I went to work to assist in making them. Here my brother David, a young man of twenty-three years of age, 6 ft. 3 in. in height, straight, and of the finest build and deportment, through his ambition in labors upon the year, and in procuring wood with which to burn the brick, overtaxed his strength, took severe cold, and commenced bleeding at the lungs. He lingered for a few weeks in quick consumption, and died as he had lived, a true Latter-day Saint. His last testimony was given through the gift of tongues, which was interpreted by Brother Don Carlos Smith, who as his friend and companion, was present at his death, which occurred October 30, 1833.

Previous to this, the purpose of building the temple of brick was abandoned, as a stone quarry at easy distance was opened to obtain the rock for its construction. But such was the poverty of the people at the time of breaking ground for its foundation, that there was not a scraper and hardly a plow that could be obtained among the Saints.

At the laying of the cornerstones of the temple, in the spring of 1834 my brothers, Joel H. and Seth, and brother-in-law, L.R. Sherman, assisted.

On the night of the 14th of November of that year was seen a fulfillment of one of the noted predictions of our Savior pertaining to the last days, that we had so often heard quoted by the elders, that "the stars should fall from heaven as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs." But my pen is inadequate to give a description of the scene then presented, for the heavens were full of a blazing storm, from zenith to horizon, and a view more sublime and terrible the eyes of man may never have seen. To the fearful it struck terror, and even some of the Saints seemed almost paralyzed with fear, for it appeared for a time that both the heavens and the earth were on fire. I gazed upon the scene with wondering awe, but with full realization of its purport as a sign of the last days. I afterwards learned that it occurred on the night following the driving of the Saints from Jackson County, Missouri.

The winter of 1833-34 I attended district school in Kirtland. Brother Joel H. had bought some wild land in the township, and also built a saw mill, and sometimes working for our neighbors, my brother Joseph E. and myself spent our first year, including the brick-making.

As we had no permanent business at home to occupy both Joseph and myself, and there being at home three brothers still younger, I deemed it better to look for some permanent employment, and engaged to Brother Uriah B. Powell to learn the saddlery business at $24 a year with board. Previous to this, however, the mob had driven the Saints from Jackson County, and Zion's camp was preparing to start, in which I desired to accompany my brother Seth, and brother-in-law E.R. Sherman, with A. W. Babbitt, who was to marry my sister, Julia. But the Prophet deemed it not best for me to go, owing to the opposition of my father, and as I had not yet received my baptism. I was assured by the prophet Joseph that no loss should come to me for waiting, for although not fully a member I had partaken of every hope, desire, and spiritual influence with which those around me were animated. It was with a joy almost unspeakable that I realized that I was living in a day when God had a prophet upon the earth.

In the summer of 1834 Father Joseph Smith, Sr., commenced to visit the families of the Saints and give patriarchal blessings, and greatly was the Spirit of the Lord manifested among the Saints in the gift of tongues, with interpretation, prophecy, and the gift of healing. In the course of the summer Elder Jared Carter, a man then of mighty faith, came with other elders to our house, and seeing sister Nancy upon her crutches commanded her in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth to leave her crutches and walk, which she at once did, and never again did she use them, although for years she had borne no weight upon her broken joint. We all knew it to be the power of God, and almost felt to shout Hosanna! to think our beloved sister was again sound in limb and able to walk. But in the midst of our joys then, oh, how many sorrows to us the future had yet to disclose. I now thought of what was so often said by both enemies and friends, in my native town, and felt that now my sister was healed all that would be needed for their conversion was for me to go and tell it to them. But all this proved a great mistake, as I may farther on relate.

After working with Brother Powell a few months as apprentice, he broke up business, and I sought employment in running a sawmill, carpentering, etc., until winter. Meanwhile many of the members of Zion's Camp were returning home, among whom was my brother, Seth, Lyman R. and A. W. Babbitt. My brother, Seth, returned quite feeble in health, having nearly died of cholera, of which a number of the brethren had died in Missouri. Yet he felt as he always did that he must be useful, and although weak in body he engaged to teach a large school in the town of Willoughby, a few miles from Kirtland. Here he taught while I attended school in Kirtland until February when failing health compelled him to return home. Here all was solicitude--our beloved brother had come home, perhaps to die--a brother beloved by all who knew him, of whom no unkind word was ever known to be spoken; by me more than beloved, almost worshipped! Must he--could he die and leave us? Oh the cruel agony of such bereavement to the young, to whom in such sorrows, life appears so long and lonesome. But after all our anxieties, prayers and tears, in the midst of his testimonies to us and blessings upon us he died February 19, 1835. And even now, that I am growing old, and the time is hastening when I may, if faithful, meet and greet the departed, yet in calling back this and other bereavements of my youth, my heart again swells with emotion and my eyes become blind with tears. Yet there was one consolation that the Lord had reserved for me, relating to this brother that I will relate:

During his sickness a personage appeared to him and told him that had he retained his faith and his desire to live, there was a work for him to do on earth, but that it was all well, for a greater work was now awaiting him, and that the Lord would raise up another to do his earthly work. But the idea, that another was to do his work, and perhaps take his blessings, was not consoling to me. And it grieved me much when the members of Zion's Camp came forward for their blessings, to think that another might step in and take the blessing of one who had gone forth in feeble health and had shortened his days by his self sacrifice. But I had not long to wait for comfort.

In the spring of 1835 before I was baptized, my mother and all her children met at the house of my sister, Delcena Sherman, to receive from Patriarch Joseph Smith, Sr., our patriarchal blessings. He blessed all according to age until be came to Joseph E. and myself, when he placed his hands first upon my head. My mother told him I was the youngest, but he said that mattered not--to me was the first blessing; and in blessing me, among other great and glorious things, he told me the Lord would call me to do the work of brother Seth, who had been called away by death. In this promise there was to me more joy than ever before I had known; my dear brother was not to be robbed of his blessings, and if I could only live faithfully his work would be done, and I should do it for him. I felt this was the greatest boon the Lord could bestow upon me.

Soon after this, I overstepped my father's objections and was baptized by Elder Lyman Johnson. My sister Julia was now married to Elder A. W. Babbitt, and I will relate here one item pertaining to him. The Prophet Joseph, in blessing him as one of Zion's Camp, told him of much good he would do in preaching the gospel, and how the hearts of people would be drawn towards him, and the greatness to which he would attain, etc., but that he would at last be overpowered and fall by the hand of an enemy. This Brother Babbitt also saw in a dream, which he related some years previous to his death.

My blessing from Father Smith was to be realized in spiritual ministrations and labors, while Joseph E.'s blessing related to the greatness of his work in temporal things.

Owing to my father's continued unbelief, opposition to the truth, and intemperance, it was deemed better that he should live apart from the family, to which he consented. He bought him a place in the adjoining town of Mentor, where one of my sisters would keep house for him, and where the younger children often went for a time to stay, and where I spent a part of my time.

At this period, upon my mother rested the responsibility of providing for the family, consisting of three boys and two girls younger than me, and my sisters, Nancy, Almera and Susan, who were older. With their assistance she commenced the manufacture of stocks, a fine article of men's neckwear, and of palm leaf hats, then just coming into use, both of which they supplied to the merchants, and thereby obtained a comfortable livelihood.

At this particular period the [Kirtland] Temple was progressing, the Quorums of the Twelve and Seventies were organized, and the first elders were being sent out. Brother A W. Babbitt had already returned from a very successful mission in New York. Returning to his field of labor he invited me to accompany him to my native town in the same state, which I was very anxious to do, as I had not forgotten how all our neighbors had promised to believe and obey the Gospel if my sister Nancy should ever again be able to walk. I knew she had been healed by the power of God, and I thought it only necessary that I should go and tell them so, and all would at once be converted. But it would require money to go with, which it was almost impossible to obtain in Kirtland. About all the circulating medium among the Saints was the "Kirtland Scrip," signed by the Prophet Joseph and others, which originated in the "Kirtland Bank." Of this "scrip" I had procured as much as would be needed for my expenses for the journey, but no one would think of giving coin in exchange except at a great discount, and that would leave my amount too small. So after pondering the matter for a time in great anxiety, I took my scrip to the Prophet Joseph, told him where I wanted to go, and asked if he would give me money in place of it. He said, "Yes, Bennie, I will. It is right for you to go." And he comforted and blessed me, and his words made me more joyful than did the money, which I so much desired, and in other ways I now began to be better acquainted and more familiar with him.

The forepart of October [1835] I started with Brother Babbitt to visit my native place, designing to take steamboat at Fairport for Dunkirk, but storms were rising, and fearful of the waters we traveled through mud and storm on foot over 150 miles to the place of my birth. I had been absent about two years and a half, and although my old companions and neighbors seemed glad to see me, I soon learned that they were not so anxious to see me as I had been to visit them. When I told them my sister was healed, and that it was by the power of God, all interest seemed dead, and they felt no desire to talk upon the subject. After a few days of disappointment and chagrin, disgusted at my overanxiety to visit them and my misplaced confidence in their sincerity, I took steamboat at Dunkirk and gladly returned home.

In the following winter [1835-1836] I attended the "School of the Prophets" with the Prophet and most of the first elders of the Church, where was first taught the Lectures on Faith, as contained in the Doctrine and Covenants, and grammar was taught by Elder William E. McLellin. I also attended an evening class in geography in which I rapidly acquired the elements of that study, which inspired in me a thirst for history and other reading.

But about the 1st of March of this year, my sister Susan, about twenty-two years of age, was taken suddenly ill, vomiting blood. All possible was done for her, that the loving sympathy of kindred, friends and physicians could suggest, but without avail. She lingered but a few days and died as she had lived, faithful to her religion. Just before death she called each of us to her bed, bore to us her testimony of the truth of the gospel, told us to be faithful to its trusts, bade us farewell, and fell asleep March 16, 1836. Such bereavements come with crushing weight. So much sickness and death tended not only to keep us as a family limited in means, but no doubt the more prompted us in humility to seek the Lord.

Previous to the dedication of the Temple on the 27th of March, 1836, all who had labored upon it were called together, and in the public congregation received their blessings under the hands of the First Presidency. I had attended all the meetings, listened to the blessings given, and felt a great joy in these prophetic words that filled and thrilled me. Yet all the time I was thinking that these blessings would only be for those who had labored with their hands upon the Temple, and as I had not myself worked upon it, not being strong enough for such labor I would not receive any blessing, and it grieved me exceedingly to think that perhaps through my neglect I was to be deprived of that which to me appeared of more worth than all earthly things. When on the last day of blessings, I was standing by the door in the crowded congregation, and oh! how I did yearn for a blessing! And as the last blessing, apparently, was given, the Prophet earnestly looked towards the door where I was standing, and said to his brother Hyrum, "Go and see if there is not one more yet to be blessed." Brother Hyrum came to the door, and seeing me, put his hand upon my shoulder and asked me if I had not worked upon the Temple. I said, No sir," but it seemed like passing a sentence upon my fondest hopes. He then asked if I had done nothing towards it. I then thought of a new gun I had earned and given as a donation, and of the brick I had helped to make. I said, "I did give often." "I thought," he said, "there was a blessing for you," and he almost carried me to the stand. The Prophet blessed me, with a confirmation of all his father had sealed upon me, and many more also. I felt then that the Lord had respect for my great desire. Even to be the youngest and last to be blessed seemed to me a high privilege. When the Prophet had looked towards the door, I felt as though he would call for me, though I could not see how I had merited so high a privilege. But so it was, and my joy was full.

I attended the dedication of the [Kirtland] Temple and all subsequent public meetings. I knew of the endowments received by the elders, and learned of the ministering of the angels at the time of their appearance in the Temple; but as I had not yet received the priesthood I did not receive the higher blessings. Greatly now was the power of God manifested in the gifts of the gospel, and a general joy pervaded the hearts of the Saints.

About this time measles and whooping cough spread through the town, with which my brother, then eight years of age, came nigh unto death, his condition appearing hopeless. My father brought to see him two professors from Willoughby Medical College. They examined him, and in great gravity whispered together, and without one word of encouragement left a vial containing some powerful drug to be given as an experiment. My mother had sent for the Elders and as soon as the doctors left, Brother Bosley and others came in. My mother said the doctors had given no hope but had left the vial of medicine, which she handed to Father Bosley, who threw it out of the window. He then administered to my brother, commanding him to be made whole, which he was, from that hour. When the physicians returned they looked with surprise to see so great a change, and were taking great credit to themselves, but when told their medicine was thrown out of the window, and that my brother had been healed by the power of God they were greatly chagrined, but made no attempt to deny it. I mention the above as one instance among many that were so common among the Saints in the early history of the Church.

In the course of that year, the Egyptian mummies were bought from Mr. Chandler, by whom they were received from Egypt. Great was our wonder in looking upon the bodies of those who, 4,000 years ago, were living princes and queens. And when the writings of Abraham upon papyrus, which accompanied them were taken from its ancient casket, it seemed marvelous indeed. And all rejoiced when the Prophet told us these writings would be translated, which are now, in part, in the Pearl of Great Price.

It is proper here to say that up to this period from our commencement to settle at Kirtland, there had been by our enemies one continual persecution of the Prophet and contempt for the Saints and their religion. And such was their opposition and hatred towards the Temple during its construction, that it had to be guarded, not only by night but also by day; and the laborers upon its walls, while with one hand they held the hammer or trowel were always ready with the other to grasp the sword. Much of my time in boyhood was spent in assisting to prepare arms for the protection of the Saints. The lower story of my mother's house in Kirtland was at that time used by Brother M. C. Davis as a gunsmith shop, for the manufacture of defensive weapons for the use of the people.

Previous to this period occurred the great exploit of D. P. Hurlburt of Spaulding Manuscript notoriety. He was called "doctor" from his being the seventh son of his mother. He was of a conceited, ambitious and ostentatious turn with a degree of education, but of a low moral status. He had been baptized, ordained, and sent eastward with others, to preach the gospel. He labored for a time near Jacksonville, Erie County, Pennsylvania, but was soon for illicit association called back to Kirtland, where he was excommunicated, but afterwards rebaptized. He soon became enamored or greatly in love with Electra, sister of E. R. Sherman, and because she despised him for his immorality and rejected his suit he swore revenge upon the whole community and boastfully declared he would destroy the church. While preaching about Jacksonville he had learned of Solomon Spaulding, who once lived in that vicinity, and had written a romance called "Manuscript Found," and out of this he hoped to gain notoriety, obtain money, and work his spite upon the Mormons. So he gave notice to our enemies that he had struck a lead to destroy Mormonism, and if they would come together he would tell them where "Joe Smith" got his "Mormon Bible." He soon collected around him the congregations of our enemies, and in pert and pompous style told them the tale he had concocted of the "Manuscript Found," which of course was good enough when they could get nothing better. And so they readily advanced him means to hunt up the manuscript, and were greatly in hopes that now Mormonism would be at an end. But to all of them it was a failure, but not to Hurlburt, for he had their money.

Soon afterward by them all he was most cordially despised. One circumstance I relate to more fully show his character. In the township of Mentor near where my father then was, lived an aged man named Randall. He was one of the wealthiest citizens and a great enemy of the Mormons. Soon after starting his anti-Mormon crusade, Hurlburt had married, and Randall had not only donated liberally but had taken Hurlburt and wife to his own house for a home. But when their disgust at his doings became so evident to him, he saw no more money would come from his dupes, and so he in connection with his wife, put up a job on the old man, and drew him into a woman snare, from which they would not release him until after payment of $500. With this money, despised and hated by all parties, he left that vicinity. I then occupied a position through which I could obtain accurate knowledge of all that transpired on both sides; my father being regarded as an opposer, knew all their secrets, none of which did he withhold from me; and as Hurlburt had boarded at my mother's, I had good opportunity as well as reason for watching his course.

In the early fall of 1836 another wave of sorrow and bereavement was gathering to burst upon us. Nancy, my eldest sister, who had ministered to us in infancy and childhood, who had taught us our first lessons both in the Sabbath and day schools, who had ever been as both mother and sister, always self-sacrificing, and uncomplaining through all the period of her lameness and feeble health, seemed now fading away in consumption. After all our previous bereavements, could we again endure this, another severe and crushing blow? And now just as I was approaching manhood, I seemed to come face to face with the great problem, whether as a family we were not all to die of the same disease consumption, by which three had already gone, and another fast sinking! She continued to sink until the 30th of October, when, like others, she bade us all adieu, leaving us her life's example as a testimony to the truth of the gospel.

Everything now seemed to confirm the idea of a short life for myself, if not for all my father's children. My muscular powers were small, and though large in vitality I had but small physical endurance. Through close application to my shopwork and long readings at night, I became effeminate and weak, and some influence like the whisper of the Evil One was always saying in my ear, "You are doomed to die young." At times I would remember the promises made by Father Smith in my patriarchal blessing, and the blessing of the Prophet upon my head, and a desire to live and fulfill them, and to preach the Gospel would enthuse my whole being. Then the Evil Power would tell me all these blessings were forfeited, for through wild shopmate associates while away from home, I had been led into temptation, which brought me sorrow and repentance before the Lord. But under no circumstances had I ever failed to stand firm in the defense of our religion.

After the death of my two sisters, my mother was unable to continue her business in town, and concluded, with my brother Joseph in charge, to move out about a mile upon a farm. In November, 1836, the Kirtland Bank began to develop; the Temple was completed, and a large town was being built, by the gathering Saints. A wave of speculation was spreading over the nation, and it seemed the spirit of it was caught by the Saints. The revelation in which God had given but five years of safety in Kirtland for the Saints, in which to build the Temple and obtain their blessings had been forgotten, and all appeared to feel that Kirtland was to become and remain a great center of business and religious interest for the future. But the Lord had other and greater purposes in view, one of which seemed to be to show us the weakness of human wisdom, and the folly of our idolatry, by bringing us to see our idols crumble in our hands. [Apostasy] At this time, town property and real estate went up to almost fabulous prices, and a general rush was made into business of all kinds. Members of the Quorum of the Twelve and Elders on missions hastened home, bringing merchandise and means for general trade, while the Kirtland Bank issued its paper apparently with full confidence in the future. Goods were sold upon credit with great hope of better times; and "Why be deprived of luxury and fashion today," seemed to be the spirit of the hour. But when goods bought on credit were to be paid for, and notes became due for lands bought at great prices, then began a reaction. Disappointment engendered feelings which reacted upon fellowship, and men in high places began to complain of and reproach each other, and brotherly love was found smothered by the love of the world. The Bank having issued its currency in the same confidence now began to comprehend that its specie vaults were empty, with no possibility to realize upon collateral to replenish them. The spirit of charity was not invoked, and brethren who had borne the highest priesthood and who had for years labored, traveled, ministered and suffered together, and even placed their lives upon the same altar, now were governed by a feeling of hate and a spirit to accuse each other, and all for the love of Accursed Mammon. All their former companionship in the holy anointing in the Temple of the Lord, where filled with the Holy Ghost, the heavens were opened, and in view of the glories before them they had together shouted "Hosanna to God and the Lamb," all was now forgotten by many, who were like Judas, ready to sell or destroy the Prophet Joseph and his followers. And it almost seemed to me that the brightest stars in our firmament had fallen. Many to whom I had in the past most loved to listen, their voices seemed now the most discordant and hateful to me. From the Quorum of the Twelve fell four of the brightest: William E. McLellin, Luke and Lyman Johnson and John Boyington [Boynton] of the First Presidency, F. G. Williams; the three Witnesses to the Book of Mormon, Oliver Cowdery, David Whitmer and Martin Harris. Of other very prominent elders were Sylvester Smith, Warren Cowdery, Warren Parrish, Joseph Coe and many others who apostatized or became enemies to the Prophet. I was then nineteen years of age, and as I now look back through more than fifty years of subsequent experience, to that first great Apostasy, I regard it as the greatest sorrow, disappointment and test through which I have ever passed; the first real experience among false brethren, the greatest sorrow and test for the faithful. But with all my faults I did not forget the Lord nor His chosen servants. And in this day of great affliction and separation by apostasy, I felt to call mightily upon His name, that He would never leave me to follow these examples, but that He would keep me humble, even though in poverty and affliction, so only that I fail not. This prayer of my youth I have never forgotten, neither do I feel that it is forgotten by Him to whom it was made.

In the summer of 1837 through failing health, I had left my employment and returned to my mother's and there was a season of great scarcity for the poor in Kirtland. A great financial crisis had come, and money could not be obtained. The Kirtland Bank, with all the "Wildcat" banks of the country went down. To make our Mormon bank odious to our enemies and entail disgrace on the Prophet, as he was the president of the institution, the cashier, and secretary, Williams and Parrish signed and issued a large amount of bank notes to runners, with which to swindle the more ignorant people of the country, the disgrace of which did not follow its perpetrators (who had apostatized) but the Prophet and those who remained with him, true to the great cause.

The split in the Church was now so great, with the principal wealth on the side of our enemies, that they claimed the Temple, printing office, and everything regarded as church property. Writs were out for the Prophet and others for all public debts. So in midwinter with his father, Hyrum, and a few others he started as best he could for the far west. The printing office and material which our enemies thought to use to bolster up a church organization opposed to the Prophet was set on fire by Brother Lyman R. Sherman and destroyed. Those faithful to Joseph made all possible haste to follow him to the west. My mother and all of her children were of that number. But the same feeling still followed me that I was fated to die young, and should I start would not live to perform the journey. My anxieties at that time were not from a fear to die nor from a great desire to live, but there was a feeling almost akin to horror in the thought that my name would be blotted out from the living. And like Jeptha's daughter I felt to "bewail" an early death. Often I have felt to tell the Lord that if He would spare my life to see one son who would bear my name after me in honor to him, I would promise to die without regret; and it seemed that every ambition, hope or inspiration for life was swallowed up in that one desire.

In the early spring of 1838 an effort was made by the local authorities to draw the line of fellowship on practices which then seemed tending to demoralize, among which was dancing and late night associations, to which little heed was paid; and soon a long list of names was left with the High Council to be dealt with, and notice was given to each by its clerk. I had never danced, and rarely attended a party, but from some cause my name was in the list, and I received notice to appear and answer. I answered by letter in a spirit of meekness, and said I wished to live as a L.D. Saint but was not satisfied with my present baptism, and if they felt it right to drop my name it would be satisfactory to me, for I would take an early opportunity to come in again by baptism. Feeling truly humble this spirit was conveyed to the hearts of the council, and they said Brother Benjamin's letter was satisfactory and carried with it a purpose to be a true L. D. Saint.

I now felt great anxiety that the way would open that my mother and the children (three brothers and two sisters younger than myself, with my brother Joseph who was past fifteen months older, and about twenty years of age) might obtain an outfit, for the journey was now my greatest desire. My brother Joel owned a sawmill with land and other property, and my mother owned quite a good farm, but now all real estate was as worthless as it had the year before been valuable, but with hope and increasing faith we all worked with our mights to prepare for a start the coming season to the west. By the 4th of July we had obtained just teams and wagons enough to carry the families of my mother and oldest brother with their beds and company outfit. To facilitate the matter all their most valuable furniture and goods had been shipped by water, to go by St. Louis up the Missouri River to Richmond, Ray County, Missouri.

Chapter THREE TROUBLE IN MISSOURI

Up to this time I had not concluded to go with them, fearing my poor health might make me a burden on the way. I felt it would be better to stay with my father and my sister Almera, who was married and living near my father in Mentor, and was likely to remain for a year or more. So, while lending all aid possible and assisting in their starting with the company I was not expecting to go with them; and not until they had started, and some refractory stock to be driven made it necessary for me to go with them for a distance, did I resolve to go.

As soon as this resolution was formed, a new faith and feeling sprang up in my heart, and I felt that the Lord had heard my prayers. I felt sure I was not soon to die, a dark cloud rolled from over me and a great weight from my heart; and to all in camp it was surprising to see how fast I increased in health and ability to assist in our camp life. But to none was it so great a surprise as to me, and I felt in my heart to thank God and to devote myself to doing all the good in my power. In starting we had joined what has since been known as the "Kirtland Poor Camp," called so from the fact that the wealthy had apostatized, and those who had means enough got an early start; while the poor, by all journeying together could make an outfit and travel with much less expense.

Our start was on the 4th of July, 1838. The company consisted of over 60 wagons and near 400 souls, organized under the direction and leadership of President Joseph Young, Elias Smith, Jonathan Dunham and others. All means for defraying expenses were put together, and so all were to fare alike, and did so long as they remained in camp together.

So large a company, poor in appearance, and known to be Mormons, passing through the country where runners with Kirtland money had swindled the people, caused us to be more or less objects of contempt and persecution, and in a number of towns writs were served upon our leaders to compel a redemption of Kirtland bank notes. But the blessing of the Lord was with us, and there was always a way open for escape, and friends always at hand just in time of need. So in a good degree of comfort we arrived at Dayton, Ohio, where, as means to defray expenses began to be short, it was deemed better to obtain work on a public road then being constructed. So we remained there one month, in which time I went twice to Cincinnati to visit my kindred and do business for the company. On returning from my last visit I found much sickness in camp, and some deaths had already occurred. The wife of Benjamin Willey had died and Brother Willey was very sick, also some children. So much sickness in my mother's family, and so much ill health myself, had made me acquainted with nursing the sick, and in some degree the use of medicine, with which I had commenced in a small way to deal, and to read medical works. And as I had now become well and strong physically I adopted the sick as my especial charge. Brother Willis appeared nigh unto death with typhoid malarial fever, and on traveling through the day but little could be done for him, but at night I gave him my undivided and sleepless attention. For three weeks in this manner I did care for and nurse the sick by night and travel on foot by day, only obtaining sleep by the roadside as I got in advance of the company, or while feeding the teams at noon. Often did I carry my little chest of family medicines and other small articles of trade to exchange for butter, eggs, chickens and fruit, and anything suited to the appetites of the sick and feeble. Such was the increase of my health and hopes that I felt that I could do or endure anything to prove my gratitude to the Lord, for His blessings.

In our traveling I was often ahead or behind the company, and so was liable to be interrogated as to who we were and where we were going, etc., and this afforded me just the experience I needed, and my answers and testimonies were never wanting. I often found myself surrounded by large numbers of both priests and people, but never was I insulted nor abused. On one occasion while passing through a town of considerable size in western Ohio, I stopped before a large tavern to answer a question. I was covered with dust, without a coat, and barefoot, and feeling mortified at my appearance wished to hurry on, but other questions were asked and I could not leave them unanswered, until I forgot to answer one question at a time and commenced to talk, and as I proceeded the people gathered, and when I ceased and looked around there were hundreds before me and all windows were open on both sides of the street, and crowded with listening women; and all appeared to wonder at the dirty, barefooted boy. But no one marveled more than myself, and it was near night when I left them and had eleven miles to walk to camp. The next day being Sunday, a number of carriage loads of people came from town to our meeting in camp, stayed for a time and inquired for the young man who had preached to them in town the day before, of which no one knew anything. I saw them come and go again but was too bashful to attract their notice or speak to them. Such evidences of the favor of the Lord, through which, by the power of His spirit I could bear a faithful testimony to the world was of great worth and comfort to me. In this manner we journeyed, and about the first of October arrived near Springfield, Illinois, where Samuel Hale and wife (parents of Mary Ann, who afterwards became my second wife) were taken sick, and Brother Hale soon died. It was deemed best that my elder brothers, Joel and Joseph, my mother and their families should remain there until the following season. Here Sister Hale also died, leaving Mary Ann, their only child, then some 10 years old, with my mother.

But I felt like going to the front, where I could again see and hear the Prophet. On the 13th of October we crossed the Mississippi at Louisiana, and began to hear of great troubles among the Mormons at Far West, and we were warned of the great danger of proceeding, but our camp was only stirred to greater desire to go on. Here I remembered my former purpose to renew my covenant by baptism, and as one of my associates, D. D. McArthur, was to be baptized, I went with him and was baptized by Henry Hariman. [Harriman]

About the 20th of October we camped at Haun's Mill, where President Joseph Young remained with his family and where the terrible massacre took place later. Here was massacred in cold blood, and in the most fiendish manner about twenty persons, from eight to eighty years of age, besides many men and women wounded, most of them my acquaintances and friends. One, [Thomas] McBride, a Revolutionary soldier of eighty years, was shot down with his own gun, and while begging for life was chopped to pieces with a corn cutter, or large front portion of a scythe, used by one Rogers as a sword. To this particular I may again allude.

On approaching Far West we were met by the Prophet, who came out to meet us, and I felt joy in seeing him again. As my sisters, Delcena and Julia, wives of L. R. Sherman and A. W. Babbitt, were both living in Far West, I had expected to remain there also, but I was counseled by the Prophet to proceed to [Adam-ondi-Ahman] Diahman to assist with others in strengthening that place against mobs gathering there from the adjoining counties.

On our arrival at Diahman, our camp was pitched upon the town plat which had just been surveyed by direction of the Prophet, and of course each one was anxious to obtain the most eligible, or first choice of lots. As I was young and unmarried my choice would come near the last under the rule of "oldest served first." So when it was my choice I found I must take the top lot on the promontory overlooking the Grand River valley, or go farther away and lower down than I wished to. So I chose the upper, which at first appeared rocky, but which made the other lots appear almost enviable. When, after a few days, the Prophet accompanied us to this spot, and pointed out those rocks as the ones of which Adam built an altar and offered sacrifice upon this spot, where he stood and blessed the multitude of his children, when they called him Michael, and where he will again sit as the Ancient of Days, then I was not envious of anyone's choice for a city lot in Adam-ondi-Ahman. Yet I would not have it inferred that my inheritance there, or those given me elsewhere are to be especially guaranteed to have in future.

At Diahmon I was now without money, kindred or home. All means I could procure had been spent in comforts for the sick; I had not even a blanket and only a small supply of warm clothing for approaching cold weather.

On my arrival I was at once introduced into active duties, on guard at night, and in scouting by day or raiding upon the enemy, as the case might require. I was now nineteen years of age and in the flush of manhood. Too proud and bashful to make my wants known, or to accept gratuitous favors offered me, many nights I laid in freezing weather with nothing under or over me but the hay in the loft on which I slept. Many nights did I remain by the guard fire alternating between a roasting and freezing condition, as I changed sides to or from the fire, until the mother of President George A. Smith, who was always kind to me, learning my condition, came to the log barn in which I slept and gave me a nice warm quilt, which owing to the circumstances I shall never forget.

Soon the Prophet came to Diahmon and called for me to come and board at Brother Sloan's, the place at which he stayed.

But times began fast to change; the people who lived around within miles of town had all fled; and all the Saints who had bought farms through the more northern portion of the country or elsewhere were now flocking into town, some of them bringing little more than their lives. It being now November and very cold for the season, a heavy snowstorm came upon many families with nothing but brush as a shelter, for the aged, or the sick or the mother with her babes. In this terrible condition some children were born. This to me was an appalling condition, but a condition still worse was upon us, for we were being hemmed in on all sides by our enemies and were without food. All the grain, cattle, hogs, and supplies of every kind were left in the country, or so far from home they could not be obtained except with a strong guard. So our only possible chance was to go out in foraging companies and bring in what ever we could find, without regard to ownership; and in this way corn, beef, cattle, hogs, bee stands, chickens, etc., with anything and everything left in the country that would sustain a thousand people, we took wherever it was found. Thus we did our best, to obtain food, dividing it as was needed.

At one time when away on horseback, stopping to arrange saddle and pack, I was left behind by my party, and in my haste I made more delay; and when my company was about half a mile ahead, two shots were fired at me from the edge of the woods not far from where I stood, but I got safely away with all that I had proposed to carry from the deserted house of one of our enemies.

At this time the Saints seemed sanguine of our success in standing off all mobs and of ultimate triumph over our enemies in Missouri. But with me it was different, for although I took hold earnestly to fill every calling and to brave danger, yet it was with a constant assurance in my own mind, seemingly prophetic, that we would be overcome by our enemies.

Coming one morning just at daylight from off picket duty I saw a squad of brethren, among whom was my then intimate friend and bosom companion, W. D. Huntington, brother of Sister Zina D., and I asked where they were going, but he only took time to say, "Come and see." So without food other than a piece of corn cake or "dodger" as it was then termed, and after an all-night guard and fast, I started upon a two-year-old colt which by some circumstance I had got astride of, and fell into rank with a company of near twenty mounted men, with Cornelius P. Lot as our Captain. I soon learned our destination was to Taylor's on Grand River, about nine miles above, where it was said arms and ammunition were held for the use of the mob. On arriving opposite the houses, which were on the river bank, we saw a commotion, and persons step back into the cornfield which was close by. We hastily crossed the river, surrounded the house, and myself with others, went for those who had fled. One man I saw and followed, and as he dodged behind a large oak stub, Alex. Williams came on one side as I came on the other. Thus we caught him. It was the first prisoner I had ever assisted to take, and I learned something of the influence of fear upon the human heart; for as we put our hands upon his shoulders there was such a look of expectant death, and such begging for his life, and then to see a fine looking married man so filled with fear that he sank upon the ground. This was one of the Taylors to whom again I may refer. But we calmed his fears, told him for what purpose we had come, and that if there really were no arms or ammunition stored there to be used against us, we should leave them as we found them; but if we found they had those things we would burn them out. There were two men with a number of women and children, and all affirmed that there was nothing of the kind there. After a thorough search of houses, barns, etc., our captain ordered a search in the cornfields to hunt the cornshocks, which soon resulted in the discovery of arms and ammunition and of their falsehoods. The females hastily took from the houses what they could carry, and here I might say there was almost a trial of my faith in my pity for our enemies, even those who were plotting our destruction. Among the women was one, young married and apparently near her confinement, and another with small children and not a wagon, and many miles away from any of their friends, and snow had begun already (in November) [probably October] to fall. My sympathies were drawn toward the women and children, but I would in no degree let them deter me from duty. So while others were pillaging for something to carry away, I was doing my best to protect, as far as possible, the lives and comfort of the families who were dependent on getting away upon horseback. When the horses were brought up for their use, there was one animal with a side saddle, on which the young woman was to get away; but it was taken away by one Sloan, who had kept the boarding house where I stayed, a man of education and apparently a gentleman. It was too much for me, so I took the animal away from him by force, and put her upon it, and then got from another roll of homemade cloth and fastened it on behind her. While others were doing the burning and plunder, my mission was of mercy so far as duty would permit. But of course I made enemies at home, and became more known by those who were our avowed enemies. Before noon we had set all on and left upon a circuitous route towards home. As yet I had had nothing to eat and was much in need of food, and before starting went to a beehive and took in the hollow of a half pumpkin some beautiful white comb honey, ate a little as I went, looked at it and wished I might eat more, but as I could not, I set it upon a stump, where I have many times thought of it through the 56 years that have since passed.

On our way home our company divided to scout in different directions, and we soon came upon a fine looking band of horses following a brood mare with a bell. As I was upon this two-year-old colt and wished one for heavier service I thought it a good time to make trial to get one. So as a comrade offered to take my gun and lead my animal by the halter, I took the bridle and started with two others who volunteered to go with me for the same purpose. It was now in the afternoon, and clouds were rising as though it would rain, but we pushed with hope and earnestness for our animals, who, like the ignis fatuus (will-o'-the-wisp) were always just ahead but never to be overtaken and caught. Yet we followed until it began to rain, and then we lost the track of our party and were lost. As it grew dusk we hastened, but failed to find our way or trail. After dark we struck a trail which we followed for miles, nearing a large body of timber, and knowing that there was a mob gathering on what was called the grindstone, and fearing we were going in that direction, we halted. As one of our party had a flintlock musket we managed by care to get a light started with it, in the trail we were following, and soon discovered that our party had not passed that way. I felt sure we were going in the wrong direction and said we must take another direction. I extinguished the fire, and as I did so and we turned our course we heard but a few rods behind us a party of horsemen who galloped off another direction, which proved we were near the mob encampment. We found and followed another trail until near midnight, and I became so weary and faint through want of sleep and food, I felt I should soon be compelled to stop. We were in some creek bottom among the timber, and soon came to a clearing with a number of houses. There being no moon and cloudy it was very dark and their outlines could barely be discerned. We drew near with great caution and seeing no evidence of life, I determined to ascertain if anyone was there, and if so, to learn if we could get food and chance to rest. I told my companions if anything befell me to come to the rescue, or go and report. I knocked at the first house but no answer; went to the next with same result, and finding the third to be a barn I returned to the first and called my companions. We found doors and windows barred, but forced an entrance through a window. The first step after reaching the floor, I fell headlong into a cellar under the floor, where a part of what were called "puncheons," had been pulled up, with which to brace windows and door. I got out of the cellar, called my companions to bring their guns, by means of which we soon succeeded in making a fire. On lighting up we found some family had apparently just left, as nearly everything but beds, clothing and food, was present. I soon had a fire and on a pile of deer skins made me a bed, telling my companions that I could not watch, and that we should perhaps be discovered before morning. And so, wet, hungry and tired, and more dead than alive, I fell asleep. I had slept perhaps a couple of hours when I was disturbed by some call that broke upon my dead asleep but waking senses. "Who is there?" was repeated again and again. More asleep than awake I answered, "Me!" "What's your name?" came next, I said, "Benjamin F. Johnson." My name was passed around the house and I knew we were surrounded. Directly I beard one of the party say, "I know him," and he at once dismounted and came in. I saw it was Brother John Butler, whose acquaintance I had made in a snowstorm a few days before. When finding him one of our most valiant men with nothing but some green cowhide on his feet as moccasins, I gave him my only shoes that were of any value, and now as by special providence had upon my feet a most excellent pair of new calfskin boots, by which I felt I had been the greatest gainer.

We told Brother Butler how we came there and he said we were then on the right road, but near nine miles from home. He had been out on special commission and was riding the Prophet's black horse, "Charley." He told his companions to return to Diahman, and that he would remain with us, which he did. In the early morning he led the way some mile and a half towards our enemies' camp, to the smoldering ruins of a house apparently burned the day before to find something to eat. The only things to be found were a pile of onions and a flock of chickens, one of which we soon had boiling with onions in a stray dinner pot. But we did not then, so near our enemies, feel great delicacy as to our cooking, for we were governed by the idea of "eat to live" and we felt that the quicker we could eat our chicken and onions and get from there the greater was our chance to live; thus the onions were but half done and the chicken none too tender. Close by was an old bell cow, and cattle scattered about on the prairie; so while we were getting our breakfast, which was not long, Brother Butler had taken a gourd shell with salt and commenced calling, "Sook bos! sook bos!" The bell cow at once started for salt, with all the cattle after her, and soon he was ahead on old Charley with a herd of cattle following. As it went by us we fell in behind and followed to Diahman. When within a mile or two we heard a firing of the cannon which had that night arrived, having been taken from the mob and rooted up by the old sow as related in history. Our animals, nearly forty head of good beef cattle for our famishing people, was a godsend indeed, and so regarded by all.

Here let me say that it should not be supposed, though we sought to repel mob violence and were compelled to forage for food when hemmed in on all sides by a mob who had driven us from homes they had sold to us and been paid for, robbing us of everything but our lives and the little we could carry away leaving our crops, stock and household goods to our enemies, that we were common robbers because we took by reprisal that with which to keep from starvation our women and children. Ours was a struggle for our lives and homes, and a more conscientious, noble, and patriotic spirit never enthused man than that which animated our leaders in this just defense of our rights.

Word had come from Far West that all were now wanted there except a home guard for Diahman, but being absent at the time I was not enrolled with those to go. A few days later, now without a horse, I was alone at night upon picket guard when word came of the surrender in Far West.

My last night on guard at Diahman I have ever remembered as one of the most lonesome and fearful of my whole life. I was down the Diahman valley nearly two miles. The heavy dry grass which was up to my shoulders was on fire on the side of the road opposite to the wind, which was high and the flames reached apparently to the clouds. It required great care to protect myself and to do my duty. About 2 o'clock I heard the sound of coming wagons and felt almost certain that a division of the mob was approaching. In order to be more safe I went from the open toward the wood and brush-covered ground to meet them, and on hailing found to my great joy it was some families of our own die just coming in. General Wilson soon arrived with his 700 mob militia every man in Diahman was marshaled into rank and shed with all arms into Wilson's camp, where his soldiers were formed into an open square into which we "ere marched, and at the word of command laid our arms inversely upon the ground. We were then, under guard, marched out upon the street to be insulted, abused and taunted by our enemies. As I was marching with others, one of the Taylors, whose place I had seen burned, came up to me in company with Col. Sashed [Sashel] Woods, of Dewitt fame, and said while pointing to me, "This is one of the men who burnt my father's place." Colonel Wood looked at me and asked if it was so. I answered, "Yes, sir." He drew his sword and pointing in the direction of Wilson's camp bade me march with quick step, which I did at the sword's point, to the General's marquee. Here I was at once put under strong guard, a prisoner in General Wilson's camp. I was now twenty years of age, over six feet in height, reticent and somewhat genteel in dress and deportment, and although not robust in habit or appearance, I could feel that where there was culture and refinement, my appearance commanded respect and pity. With the ignorant Missouri barbarians, however, I was a hated Yankee, and the subject for every insult. With few exceptions my guard was of the latter class.

The next afternoon I was to be brought before Adam Black, justice of the peace, a pronounced and bitter mobocrat of that precinct. Previous to this the State's Attorney (his name forgotten) from St. Louis, who had accompanied General Wilson, came to see and question me. He was accompanied by Dr. Carr of Gallatin, who made the first speech in that county to drive out the Mormons. Both questioned me closely over and over again to learn if possible who were our leaders in Diahman, and who led the party at the burning of Taylor's place. I had been trained to revere and tell the truth, and in my heart I felt earnestly to pray that my answers might not implicate any of my brethren. It seems that wisdom was given me, and a great strength of memory, so that in answering a question once I did not forget the answer or explanation I had given; and when I was pressed to tell who was the man who led us to Taylor's. I told them I had but just come to the place, and had made few acquaintances, but had heard the man called Captain Cornelius, it being Cornelius P. Lot. They had also questioned the Taylors, and learned how I had treated them as prisoners, and had assisted the women, and even quarreled with my own companions for their sake. All these things this attorney and Dr. Carr drew out privately. About the third time they called to cross question me, their feelings appeared to change greatly, and they said to me in a kindly spirit, "Now young man, we have questioned you over and again, and you have given us always the same answer, and in no way have you contradicted your statement. We believe you tell the truth, and have been raised an honorable man. We know you are in a very bad fix here, and apparently but little hope for escape from conviction. You are the only prisoner here, and the chances for you are the worse, as there is much expectation in the army here as at Far West of bloody revenge. If you are the only one to answer for all the burnings and raids upon the old settlers then your case is bad indeed. But we are your friends, and unasked will do all in our power to save you."

In the picture they drew there was a terror, in the hatred of our enemies. The army there supposed all our leaders at Far West had been shot according to military decree, and they had come to Diahman full of the idea of vengeance in Mormon blood. This I was made plainly to feel through the guard placed over me at night, of four men who were relieved every two hours. One relief was composed of Haun's Mill murderers, including the fiend, Rogers, who killed Father McBride with the corn cutter, by cutting off his fingers, hands, arms, and then splitting his head. That same corn cutter, still crimson with blood, hardly dry, was swung over my head once and again, with boasting of what it had done and what it would yet do, and with oaths and cursings picturing the fate that awaited me. No fancied horror could equal the real horror of the presence and words of those fiends; and I have ever felt that their presence and their words, with the corn cutter covered with blood, was the most terrible ordeal through which I have passed. Yet it was not the fear of their killing me, for I could think upon death calmly; but it was a something that grew out of being with and subject to those monsters: so much worse than the vulture to the giant pinioned to the rock, that there are no words to express it.

The snow was now nearly a foot deep, and it stormed almost constantly for days in succession, through all of which, during a period of eight days, I was a prisoner. I had no overcoat or blanket, and not even a stool upon which to sit. There was hazel and other brush around the camp fire, which one relief of the guard, more humane, gave me the privilege to cut and make a pile upon which I sat or lay down. Of food I have no remembrance of any ever being offered me, but there was one of the camp messes near the guard fire with a negro cook, and he never refused me the fragments he could pick up.

The second day after my arrest I was taken before Adam Black's court in a log cabin near the camp. Here I found my two friends. At first I was fearful of their purpose, but was soon convinced that the Lord had touched their hearts with a feeling of friendship and pity. And here a new feature inspired more fear or dread than the thought of death. I being the only prisoner, and Daviess County not being in the same judicial district with Far West, if committed by the magistrate I would be sent more than 100 miles in an opposite direction, to that of Richmond, where our leaders were imprisoned. The mere thought of being taken so far away alone to prison was indeed terrible, and even now after so many years, I realize that such was the dread associated with the idea of being among strangers, to await trial alone in prison, that I would have chosen to go with the Prophet, were it even to certain death, rather than go elsewhere to be alone. The thought was a nightmare to me. I did not comprehend the object of my two friends, but could see they desired to prevent Judge Black from making a decree in my case. The court met again next day. Justice Black being an ignorant Missourian, they had him so completely entangled and befogged in matters of law, that seeing he could not proceed as he wished he jumped up in anger and declared he would have nothing more to do with the matter, and the military might do whatever they pleased with me. He left the court, ordering the officers to take me to the general's marquee, so I was soon returned to my guard. Now my great fear was gone, but it was common talk that I was to be shot.

Often it was said to me, "Now if you would only give names of some others and help to convict them you might go free." Feeling that I was a great coward I sometimes pondered the matter and asked myself, "Which would require the greatest bravery--to stand up like a man and be shot, or like a dog live to be despised by all who loved me; to make my parents who now loved me ashamed to own me, and my brothers and darling sisters, to think how they would weep for my shame, also those who had died and begged me to be faithful--could I endure such a living death?" Every feeling within me responded, "No! I am too great a coward ever to meet those I love, who are good and pure, and feel myself a traitor." My whole soul gave the verdict that I would not save my life at such a price. Many an hour while sitting upon my brush pile in the snow, did I picture myself standing by some large trees or in some open space with the weapons of death raised against me; and although my heart yearned for its young and beautiful life, not once did it shrink, or in any way consent to live in dishonor.

It was now understood that I was to be tried by court-martial. I saw but little of my two friends, but in some way learned they had repeated interviews with the general. I here relate one occurrence to give in a degree a picture of myself and condition while a prisoner. I always sought to keep a cheerful face, and would, when possible, draw my guard into conversation. Generally they were young men. I sometimes got them to sing, and often sang a song myself;and sometimes a guard would seem to forget that I was a doomed Mormon, and would not say or do anything to insult me. With others it would be the reverse, and no indignity was too great, or insult too gross, to offer me.

The snow was now deep and the nights cold, and as it took much wood to keep up a constant guard fire, the wood must be piled up by day for the coming night. Soldiers were ordered out to cut the large maple and other trees, and at times I had volunteered to help the guard carry up the wood; and finally I began to be ordered to do so. To all this I complied cheerfully, until one time I was ordered to march for wood, which I did--took a heavy load upon my shoulders, and started for the guard fire. I was walking slowly, for my load was heavy and the snow deep, when the guard behind me ordered me with an oath to "step faster, or he would stick the bayonet into me." Upon this a terrible revulsion of feeling came over me, and had I been Samson, I should have felt no stronger. I threw down the load as if it had been a straw, and raised my hand as I turned and confronted him. I shook my fist, and told him I would not carry so much as another chip; that if I had a sword I would split him from end to end. My voice was earnest, and the Colonel just passing came quickly and asked me what they were doing to me. I told him I was packing wood for the guard fire, and the guard had threatened to bayonet me if I did not move faster, and that I would pack no more wood. He turned to the guard, and with an oath told him that if I was not from that time treated as a prisoner should be that they should all be put under guard.

I had now been a prisoner six or seven days and the brethren had returned from Far West. Our enemies were still very anxious to know who were the raiders, and especially to arrest others who were with me at Taylor's. There was also fear arising in the hearts of some of the brethren, especially Brother Sloan, with whom I had differed when at Taylor's. The brethren were now fearful that I would betray them to save myself. At last they sent my companion and friend, W. D. Huntington, to the camp to get an interview with me, and learn what my real purpose was in relation to the matter. Brother William came near the camp fire and having then a humane guard, I asked the privilege of speaking to him, which they gave, by my talking in their presence. In ambiguous words he conveyed to me the fears of the people that I would prove a traitor. At this a sense of injustice came over me not easy to describe. I had stood there alone in prospect of death, or worse, and I had been true, and now instead of praying for me and giving me their faith they were prophesying evil, or exercising a faith against me. A flood of grief gushed out of my eyes before I could hinder it. I told him to tell the people to have no fears, for with God's help I would stand true, even though they, instead of praying for me and exercising their faith for me, continued to prophesy evil against me. My very soul felt thrust to the center with their suspicions, and the feeling went to Brother William's heart, and on his return he recounted my words to his sister, Zina, and all who heard felt there had been neglect on this matter. Sister Zina asked all who felt like it, to come that night to her father's house and pray for my release. That night I felt as though I knew the people were praying for me, and all grief, sorrow, fear and hardness left me. When Brother William came the next morning to bring comforting words I almost felt I had words of comfort for him.

The mob and militia were waiting for Mormon blood, and it would not do to at once disappoint all their hopes, so I was kept from day to day, even after the General had himself come to see and question me, and once sent for me to go to him for the same purpose, and determined that at the proper time he would provide my release or escape; to which conclusion I have no doubt he was persuaded by my two friends whom the Lord raised up to me in the midst of my enemies. The day after the prayer meeting about the middle of the afternoon, I was taken from the guard by the aide-de-camp and brought to the General's marquee and alone into his presence. He said he believed I had been well raised and had good parents, and from all he could learn had in every respect been truthful and honest, and that which had been proved of me at Taylor's burning stood much to my credit. He said that he liked my appearance very much, and would have liked me to go and live with him. If I would leave the Mormon faith and go with him, and make my home with him he had every advantage to give me to become rich, and he would see that I would be one of the richest young men of the state. If I would do so, he would give me a pass and furnish me a horse to go direct to his home. I thanked him from my heart, for his words were tender and kind, softened by a power he did not comprehend; but I told him I had parents back east, from whom I had till now never been separated, and that if I was ever free again I must go to them, for I knew my kindred were in great anxiety for my safety, and would fear I was dead until they saw me again. He said he did not blame me, and he would take the responsibility to give me a pass, but I must avail myself of the night time to get away, for old citizens around Diahman would certainly kill me if they found I was set at liberty.

About an hour before sunset he gave the pass, and a guard to go with me, to get some items and say goodbye, and especially to inquire where I could find shelter for the night--a few miles from town. He was told of a house four or five miles distant, where I could build a fire and keep from freezing. It was still cold, with deep snow, and I started alone just at sunset, without blanket, overcoat, mittens, or any clothing more than a respectable suit of common thickness and warmth. I had a few matches with which I hoped to kindle a fire in the cabin to which I was directed, but when there found someone had been before me, and had not only burned the wood, but had burned the chinking of the house. I sought in the snow for wood to start a fire but could not find any, and for a time did not know what to do, but finally concluded to strike across the prairie ten miles farther, to the houses of some brethren living in a skirt of timber between Diahman and Far West, who had not been disturbed by the mob. To this timber I started, still wading in snow without a path. Late in the night I came to a house, and knocking at the door a man came out, and I asked for a place to stay. He told me I could not get into the house, and showed me the whole floor, to the door, covered with sleeping people. He said there was another house only a mile away, where I could stay, and gave me directions through the timber to find it. I lost my way and wandered for miles through the timber, and returned to the same house. The man then went with me until the path was plain, and towards morning I arrived at the residence of Elisha H. Groves by whom I was kindly received. The house was cold and the floor open, and lying upon only a rug I could not sleep for the cold, which was now fast increasing. Food was exceedingly scarce, and after all the fatigue of the night before, I had but a small breakfast. There was nearly twenty miles of bleak rolling prairie to go over, with deep snow before reaching Far West, the place of my destination. The air was full of frost, and the sun through the mist looked blue and cold, and the wind was terrible and would be full in my face. Under the circumstances it looked like a fearful undertaking, but no alternative appeared. Go I must, so I started with some miles of unbroken snow before reaching the traveled road. The wind blew so strong and steady that much of the distance I had to walk backwards to keep my breath. Thus I traveled until I had got about half way when I became so numbed with cold and exhausted by fatigue that it seemed I could proceed no farther, without warmth and rest. I was upon a high, bleak prairie, and not a house, tree or shrub could be seen. It seemed that the angel of death stood before me, for my heart and hope began to fail me. Yet I did not forget to pray in my heart, and as I looked around upon the snowy expanse I saw just at my left, a little from the road a small deep swale, where the grass stood high and thick above the snow. I thought, "Oh that I had saved just one match last night!" At the thought I felt in my vest pocket and found just one match. With it, through the blessing of the Lord I fired the grass. I inhaled the heated air, and soon recovered warmth, and after a rest the wind was somewhat abated.

I made the remaining distance to the home of my sisters before it was dark. The little swale of tall grass and the one match when I supposed all were gone, did then and have ever since appeared as special providences to preserve my life; and in fact all the providences attending my imprisonment and liberation are ever remembered as the direct hand of the Lord for my preservation, to His own purpose and glory.

I found my sisters, Delcena and Julia, well and glad to see me again, but here I dare not remain. I must go from here by night, for the mobocrats of Diahman had learned of what they understood as my escape, and were now hunting me. Here I found an old associate and fellow apprentice--Arthur Millican--who was wounded in the Crooked River battle, where Apostle Patten and others lost their lives. He was now the husband of Lucy Smith, the Prophet Joseph's sister. He had been in hiding, but was now able to travel, and wished to go with me. Food at this time in Far West was very scarce, a little corn meal, ground by horse mill or by hand. We were obliged to wait one day to get meal to make bread for our journey, as we could not safely approach a settlement. At this time Brother Sherman had gone to Richmond to see the Prophet Joseph, on which mission he took cold, and died in my absence, soon after his return home. He was a man of great integrity, a powerful preacher and by revelation was called to the Apostleship but died before receiving his ordination into that Quorum. On the third night after my arrival at my sister's we started, each provided with a quilt, a package of corn bread, with a little boiled beef; and my sister Julia had procured a pint can of honey, which with my young appetite I thought would be so good with our hard corn bread. I often thought of it as we plodded our way over a trackless prairie over which the sun was high and warm, until we came to timber upon the bank of a small creek. There we sat down to rest and eat such as loving hands had provided for us. I thought of my can of honey, and of the pleasure of sharing it with my comrade, but when I opened my pack it was not there--it had been left behind. As I realized its absence, a sense of disappointment and forlornness came over me, and as I sat upon the log I wept and sobbed, just like the big boy that I really was then.

Our destination was Fort Leavenworth, but our course was far around to avoid settlements. On the third or fourth day we arrived at the ferry and crossed into what was then the principal frontier garrison in the Indian territory. We at once went to the chief in command, which I think was General Kearney, and told him who we were, and why we had come, and asked for protection; told him we feared our enemies would come for us. He said if we wished to work for the Government we should have employment, and have his protection. Great was this chance for us; whereas we had been so long hungry, cold, weary and persecuted, here we found every real comfort of living with safety, and good wages, and it seemed in the kindly spirit of the offices, and the advantages offered, that the Lord had opened our way and led us there. Our work in general was the care and driving of six yoke of oxen, hauling supplies from place to place about the fort and reservation. Our food was good, and our mess room contained about seventy-five persons, all sitting at the same table and sleeping in the same spacious room at night. Here I began to comprehend more fully the vices of the world: gambling, drunkenness and prostitution were all bare and openfaced, and the Indian women and the negroes were just as common as was the money that could pay them. Yet while we in no way joined in with them in their gambling and carousing, they treated us with respect and often with kindness. Soon after our arrival others came some for protection, and all to earn means whereby to be better prepared to leave the state of Missouri, which must be done by the first of April.

Among others came my brother-in-law, A. W. Babbitt, and his brother, John. Up to this time since leaving Kirtland I had been passing through continued scenes of exposure and hardship, all of which seemed to develop and increase my physical capacity, and I now stood 6 feet 1 1/2 inches, and weighed 175 pounds. I was not muscular but somewhat nervous and sanguine. I was no bully, in fact, I lived in a degree of fear lest some of my jokes or outspoken remarks might draw me into trouble with some of the hot heads of our mess room, and would try to guard my words and action on that account. After a few weeks there was a discharge of soldiers whose term of enlistment had terminated, among whom was one Orkey, a large, powerful, goodnatured German, who was regarded as the bully of the garrison. On his discharge he came directly to the mess room. As soon as I saw him I felt to like him, which, as we became acquainted became mutual. He, like me, was cheerful and jocular, and in that spirit we often played upon each other by words. One evening as we sat some ten feet apart, in braggadocio boasting of what we could do to each other, I felt unusually full of fun. As he dared to "try me on" in any manner, I paused to consider. In a moment, a feeling I cannot explain enthused my whole being. I sprang to him, grasped one arm under his legs with the other around his shoulder, and lifted him as though but a child. I carried him across the room to his bunk, and raising him high up I let him down with his full weight upon it, when altogether it crushed flat to the floor. He got up, looked at me and then at his bunk and asked, "How could you do that?" But there was no answer I could make to his question. I spoke as pleasantly as I could under the excitement. I said, "We must reconstruct the bunk," after which we got tools and I helped him to do it. But he never challenged me again, and the next morning, as I came in from attending to my team I overheard him telling my messmates that they "had better let that young Johnson have his own way for he was a d---d good fellow anyhow, and no one in that room had any business with him." But I looked at the matter very differently, for in my normal strength I hardly felt equal to a boy, and if it was not from the Lord that the power came to me, I knew not whence it was. I at least had no further fears while at the garrison, of assault from anyone.

About the first of March, after learning of the death of Brother Sherman, my sister's husband, I arranged to return to Far West. On the opposite side of the river, which was over half a mile wide, was a horse I had engaged for the journey, and I must be there to get him and be ready for a start in the morning. When I came to the river it was near sundown and the mush ice was running fearfully. There was but one canoe, and that would cross but the once. As I had the promise of being carried over I stepped in the canoe, when six others came in also, which with the baggage was likely to sink the canoe. The ferryman told us it was dangerous, and some had better get out, but no one would do so. When the canoe was still her rim was not more than one inch above the water. It was a fearful and almost hair-breadth escape, skulling through the masses of floating ice. But we landed safely, and ever since I have felt like holding my breath when the thought of that danger has occurred to me.

The second day after I arrived at Far West and found my sister Delcena a widow, with six small children for whom I must do my best to provide for their removal from the state, as well as for their support, Brother Babbitt and I made a trip to Richmond to learn what we could of the welfare of the Prophet and company, and also to obtain our arms that we had surrendered. Also, to look after the goods shipped before leaving Kirtland as before noted. It was then the time of the sitting of court, and we could not see the Prophet or learn anything satisfactory about the prisoners; and when we went to look for the goods shipped, we found the last of them just being sold under the hammer to pay freight charges. It was a great sacrifice, but the people had no possible means of redeeming them. Some had not come to Missouri, and all were now soon to leave the state, as agreed by treaty with the mob. We went for our arms as directed by the quartermaster, and all were found except the one laid down by myself, which was not my own, said to be the most valuable rifle in all upper Missouri. A common gun was given me in its place which I would not receive. I gave description of the one I had surrendered at mean. I saw he did not intend I should get it, and went to his superior and told him I wanted my own gun and would take no other guns. He said, "No," but opened a door into another room into which I followed, and among others saw my own gun. I picked it up and at once brought it out. He was angry at first, and said it was not mine, then said there had been a mistake made. But I had made no mistake and so kept my gun.

On arriving at Far West, I found my old associate and friend, William D. Huntington, then a bosom friend of the Prophet. We were much together and consequently I was often at his father's house and in the company of his sister, Zina, and both Zina and her mother were much devoted to their religion. And often at Mother Huntington's did we have the most spirited and enjoyable testimony or prayer meetings. There the gift of tongues came to me in power, and never has it left me. To Sister Zina was both the gift of tongues and interpretation given, and under the influence of our spiritual enjoyment it seemed we formed a mutual attachment, which before I left Far West grew into feelings of reciprocal love, with hopes, which although not realized in full, did not hinder our being ever the warmest and truest of friends.

On the 10th of March, 1839, I was ordained an Elder under the hands of Apostle Heber C. Kimball, who then gave me notice that I would be called to go with him the coming season on a mission to England. Brother Babbitt and myself with all others in Far West were now busy in gathering up outfits to get away from the state, and some had already started. About the last of March, we left Far West to recross the Mississippi and find a home elsewhere as best we might. Roads were bad, with storms and cold weather, but we safely crossed the river at Quincy to meet many of our people, and to find that citizens of Quincy and of Illinois were showing great kindness to the persecuted Saints. Here my sister Delcena with her children concluded to remain until it should be known where the next gathering place would be. Seeing her provided with comforts and home, we continued our journey to Springfield, where my mother and younger children with my two elder brothers, and others who had started for Missouri still remained. We arrived there in the forepart of April, when there was a meeting and greeting, with gratitude to the Lord for having so preserved and brought us together again. I was now twenty-one, with increased health, energy, endurance, and animated with brighter hope than before had ever inspired me, all begotten within me through a travail of tribulations and sacrifice since leaving Kirtland not more than nine months ago.

In looking back over the vicissitudes through which I had passed in that short period it seemed more like a dream than a reality; and when I think of it all as real, I feel a weight of gratitude to God that I find no words to express.

Chapter FOUR A HOME IN ILLINOIS

I soon took employment with Charles Lamb, wholesale merchant and banker at Springfield. Mr. Lamb, almost from the first, treated me with the greatest degree of confidence, and during the first week in his employ sent me alone on business to Beardstown, a distance of forty miles with a valuable outfit and near $1,000 in bank notes to disburse. I marveled at his confidence, and was careful not to betray it. I soon received a letter from H. C. Kimball saying that I was called by the June conference at Quincy to accompany the apostles on their mission to Europe, and so I applied myself earnestly to save money to be prepared to accompany them.

While in Mr. Lamb's employ, associated with his family, my vanity was at least a little flattered even if I was not tempted by the partiality of a rich young widow who lived with and was a sister of Mrs. Lamb. She was married very young, had but one child, and was the relict of Secretary of State Falguar, who had died the year previous. I had often to attend them in their carriage, the finest equipment in the city, and I could feel I was not indifferent to her. Her little boy just commencing to talk, almost stole my heart whether his mother did or not. She was reputed very rich--a millionaire, and I felt very sure I could win her hand if I would, especially after I had overheard a conversation between her and her sister, who did not appear to favor her partiality for me.

I pondered the matter prayerfully, and I could not but feel that to marry a woman with wealth would be to bring myself to the world, and would keep me from my mission, and if allured away from my calling in the Gospel, then all the new and bright hopes that had wakened within me would become a failure. I felt it would be a sacrifice too great even for a lovely wife with inheritance of wealth.

It was now drawing near my twenty-first natal day, July 28 [1839], and I learned that Commerce, in Hancock County, had been purchased as a place of gathering and that the prophet had escaped from Missouri and was then there with many others of the Saints. I knew that the time might be drawing near to leave for Europe, and as I wished to see the Prophet and other old friends at the new gathering place, I left Mr. Lamb's employ and arranged to make the visit. On my natal day, the 28th of July, I started on horse--back for what then began to be called Nauvoo, of "beautiful rest," from Hebrew. On my arrival, August 1, I found nearly every one sick and quite a number had died, among whom was Mother Huntington and both Zina and her father were still very sick. Of the Fisk brothers, three had died and our old neighbor, Capt. B. Brown, had lost his only daughter. Nearly all were down with typhoid or malarial fever which it almost seemed would sweep the place with death, for among all the families of the Saints it was rare to find one who was able to wait upon and care for another.

At this period there were in Nauvoo two young men, physicians from the East, graduates in medicine, Brothers Wiley and Pendleton. They went from house to house prescribing for the sick, and on my arrival, I was drawn in at once to follow them as nurse and care-taker, to administer the medicines, prepare gruel and other food, bring water, make beds, etc. Having arrived on horseback, and the sick being so scattered, I kept my horse constantly under saddle, and when persons were too sick to be left through the night without watchers, I often rode for miles into the country to bring young women. Often did I go for those called the Robison girls, sisters of General Robison and Brother D. N. Wells' first wife. Those people were very kind, and the young women would come alternately as they were needed. In this way I had spent four or more weeks and had not yet pulled off coat or boots for a night's rest. But I was getting worn out, when on one occasion, in going for one of the Robison girls to come to Bishop Granger's, it being warm, I rode away without coat or vest, and on my return the wind blew, and we were drenched with chilling rain. I felt then that I was "done for," and sure enough that night I took a terrible chill with fever, and lay for a day and a half, most of the time delirious, until Sister Sarah M. Granger, herself sick, got word to Brother Hyrum Smith, who the second day sent me some gruel. In this condition I lay for days, until I procured Sapinton's pills, a compound of quinine, which was now the common remedy. They broke my chill for a time, and I was soon able to walk about, when I was called by the Prophet to his house and requested by him to remain there and take care of myself. Overexertion brought on a relapse, but I was soon up again, and waiting upon the sick. At this time there was living in one of the Prophet's homes, Father G. W. Harris, then, I think, President of the High council, who had married the widow of Wm. Morgan of Free Mason fame, and who left two children, Lucinda and Thomas. Lucinda, then 16 years of age, appeared to be very lovable, both in purity and beauty, and being often companions naturally drew us together in feeling. The Prophet, seeing our partiality for each other told me to make her my wife, seeming to enjoin it upon me. I at once moved to that object, and found there was a mutuality of feeling between us, and we soon pledged our vows to each other. The Prophet at this time sick with the fever, chose me his constant nurse and companion, and I will here say, as a valuable hint to the wise, that the sanitary treatment of copiously flushing the colon with water, much upon the present "Hall System," was about his only remedy.

At this time, with so much sickness and death, a great fear began to prevail, with a desire in some to abandon Nauvoo, and with this feeling President Rigdon was greatly exercised, making grave complaints. The Prophet now arose in great power, shook off his own sickness, went to Brother Rigdon, rebuked his fearful and complaining spirit, and told him to repent or a scourge from the Lord awaited him. Those being sick he commanded to be healed, which they were. He then called for a skiff and crossed the river to Montrose, where he found Elijah Fordham, drawing apparently his last breath. By his command life returned and he arose and was at once made whole. The Prophet then visited Brother Noble and other places, full of the power of God, healing the sick, as has been heretofore written in his life, all of which with many other things I know to be true, for I was with him as a younger brother and companion much of the time.

It was now about the first of October. The Prophet was again well. I was at his house again, sick, and it seemed to me nigh unto death, when a letter came from Springfield, to say my mother and sister, Mary, were very sick, and anxious for my return. I obtained more quinine pills, took double doses, and found my fever again broken. I had now been in Nauvoo over two months, had spent nearly all my money, so carefully saved for my mission, had ruined all my best clothing, and of over a hundred dollars, had but ten left. I got my horses, gathered up my things, and in haste, prepared to start. I felt worn, sick, poor, and sad at thought of leaving so many with whom I had so long been in affection. I handed my last bank note to Joseph, and asked him to take out the tithing. He gave me the nine dollars left and as the coin came into my hand he hit it from underneath, and scattered it upon the floor, at which I took hold of him and a shuffle ensued, in which in my weak condition, I came near falling in a faint. He held me up, picked up the money, and kept his arm around me until I was going through the gate a few rods from the door. Then he put his hands upon my head, and blessed me in the name of the Lord and told me an Angel should go with me and protect me. This greatly comforted me, for I was very weak and my heart was full. The first night I reached my brother Joel's near Carthage, where he had been preaching and had raised up a branch of the church. The next morning I started again, hoping my chills and fever would leave me, so I could get home before they should return, but they did not, for I had not gone far before I was taken by a severe chill, followed by a high fever. This so prostrated me that about 4 P.M. I was found unconscious by the roadside by the Prophet's brother, William, and his wife, who were going for wild plums. They took me to their home at Plymouth, and his sister, Lucy, cared for me tenderly, and grieved much to see me, so very sick, start as I did the next day about 10 o'clock. That day I missed my chill, but the next was as the previous, or worse. That evening I found myself in the house of a stranger, who told me that I was picked up unconscious by the roadside.

In this way I got home, and found my mother and sister not so sick as myself, and the kind ministrations of friends was then indeed timely. I was very sick, money gone, clothing worn and spoiled. My mother and brothers after so much sickness, were in poor circumstances and resources limited. Now as to the prospect of filling a mission to England, or of marrying, all bottom seemed falling out, for in my sickness and poverty, I felt myself almost a burden to my friends. While staying for a time at Brother John Snyder's, I was treated with great kindness, but grew much worse. While in the chill that now came every day, spasms in my stomach became terrible, resulting in a fearful hemorrhage of the bowels in which I voided apparently a great quantity of blood. The doctor said if the chills came again I would die, and prescribed India cholagogue in double doses, in half the time named in the directions. I pondered the matter, felt it was better for me to die as I was a burden to my friends, had no money to go to England, and I had been sick so long I almost felt a desire to die. But the medicine was got and administered to me by careful hands and loving hearts. Two days passed and the chill and paroxysm did not return, and the hemorrhage ceased. I was soon able to walk and life began to look hopeful again, and soon came Apostles Brigham Young and H. C. Kimball on their way to England. Both had left home sick, were still unfit to travel, and had left their families in great poverty at Nauvoo, but when they saw how sick I was, and without money or suitable clothing they did not urge me to go but left it to my own faith and desire. I much wished to go but was so diffident, had no missionary experience, and fearing they would feel me a burden I had not faith enough to start. They told me to take a mission east as soon as I was able and this I felt determined to do.

Chapter FIVE FIRST MISSION

It was now February in 1840. I was just able to be at a Sunday evening prayer meeting at the place of my residence, where I said I very much wished to get a conveyance out of Springfield, and that I would start if anyone knew how I could get one day's ride. James Standing, father of Joseph Standing, the martyr, said he would take me in a sleigh as far as the snow would last, and that he would be ready to start on the next Tuesday. I was yet too sick to sit up long at a time, and unable to walk more than a few rods at most, and had hardly yet attempted to speak in a prayer meeting. The devil said, "You cannot go, it will be suicide, You cannot preach and you will die in the street."

But courage was given me, and Tuesday found my few articles of clothing packed with a few books, in a valise, and some kind friends made me a bed in the back of the sleigh, and as I started my brother, Joseph, and some others made up a purse for me, of I think, $12.50, which was all that I had. I have often thought of the strong feelings that at that time came over me. I felt I had been dependent on my friends, and that they had enough to bear without being burdened by me, and that if the Lord did not care for me now I would care nothing for myself. While my hopes were small, I would not be governed by fears; and my mother, living a little out of town, was hardly aware of my real purpose until I was gone. On the following Friday we arrived at Paris, one hundred and ten miles, and my health and spirits had in some degree improved. The snow was now gone, but the mud was deep in its place. Here I was left, and here now was a test of fortitude and perseverance that may find few equals.

Only twenty-one years of age, I was alone, sick, and among strangers without money, the mud deep, weather stormy, without education or mission experience and bashful beyond the power of words to tell. Yet I did not wish myself back. The Lord had brought me carefully through an experience calculated to teach me that it would not do to depend upon my own wisdom and strength, and as for my own capability, it was really as nothing, and if the Lord had ceased to care for me I was of little worth. I told the Lord I had taken that mission because I was told to by His servants, and if there was anything a poor ignorant boy could do to please Him I was willing to try and do my best, but if He left me alone I was certain I could accomplish nothing. These were my feelings as Brother Standing turned his sleigh homeward through the mud in one direction, while I with my valise and a stick in hand slowly moved in the other pouring out my secret feelings to the Lord as I went.

I had forgotten to say that the fall previous, while I was in Nauvoo, Brother A. W. Babbitt with my sister had left Springfield for the Eastern states on a mission, and on passing through Indiana had stopped for a season at Pleasant Garden, I think in Putnam County, and had raised up a small branch there, of which I had learned, and I now had it in mind to reach that place.

My first day's travel after my adieu to Brother Standing I cannot quite remember, but I think it was seven miles, but remember distinctly my surprise, almost amazement, at its number. The kindness of Brother Standing and his self-sacrifice in bearing all expenses of that trip I can never forget. Just the distance from Paris to Pleasant Garden, the number of days it took to make it, I cannot now clearly remember, but I do not forget that through its whole distance it always seemed that the Angel promised by the Prophet was with me to open my way to make for me kind friends whenever I needed them. At Pleasant Gardens I found a Kirtland acquaintance in Brother Jonathan Crosby and family, who, together with Brother Ross R. Rogers, his business partner, were in the cabinet-making business. They gave me a pleasant welcome, but soon after my arrival I again took the chills and fever. I was kindly cared for and nursed by Sister Crosby, whose kindness, with that of her sister, wife of Addison Pratt, I will never forget. I was soon again able to be out, and as it went abroad that another Mormon Missionary had come, I was invited to many places to visit and to preach, which, as yet, I had never attempted in public. So long sick, I was still feeble, and the chills still following me, my body was weak indeed, but my visits among the people had made them anxious to bear me, so I forced myself to the issue and when the congregation came I opened the meeting as best I knew how and arose with my eyes shut and commenced to talk. The spirit to talk came upon me and I preached one hour and a half as I was told afterwards, with my eyes tight shut, and this habit tried hard to follow me, and it was after many attempts before I could look upon a congregation when preaching. A number now came forward for baptism, and here I baptized my first convert. I now had calls to preach from many directions, and I was gaining in confidence and felt blessed in my labors, with the spirit of my mission. But unexpected events drew me from this field of labor. In the lurch here was Dr. Knights, an old resident, an eminent physician, a man in the highest esteem through this whole region. In early life he had come as a pioneer to the country. He had an extensive medical practice, and owned a large body of choice lands on Eel River, and had returned to Virginia and married a young and beautiful lady. Previous to this he had taken a poor young man named Shepherd a protegee, gave him a thorough medical tuition, and after his marriage made him an equal partner in business. The old doctor was very devoted to his young wife and his two little sons, and to give himself more fully to their society he gave up principally his medical practice to the young Doctor Shepherd who rapidly grew in prestige and medical skill, and was soon upon the top wave of popular favor. From this eminence, to which his more than friend had elevated him, he descended with a treachery most ungrateful, and more deadly than the serpents face. Dr. Knights now found his idol was broken, for upon her death bed his wife had acknowledged that by the young doctor she had been seduced and he dishonored. He waited until his wife was in her grave and then with a short club in his hand he went into the office where sat the young doctor by the table. He closed the door, turned and took the key, stepped to the table saying he had come to kill or be killed, and told him the reason why. The young doctor grasped a pistol which was knocked from his hand, and he was beaten upon the head until he lay apparently dead. The old doctor then went out, locked the door and threw away the key. After a time he returned, looked through the window and saw his victim crawling around as if seeking to get out. He then procured a double-barreled shotgun and through the window fired two loads of buckshot into his neck and shoulders. All this did not kill him, but he got up and crawled out of the window, and dragged himself into the hotel across the street, where I slept. In the early morning I was awakened by the great excitement caused by the assault. All the physicians of the vicinity were called, and found his skull badly broken, but his brain not badly injured. They took out many pieces of bone, in my presence, put in a large silver plate, put back the pieces, sewed up the scalp, and within a few days he appeared convalescent. But the case was wonderful to all, and that Dr. Knights did not attend the young doctor in his terrible condition was a wonder greater still, and when asked why he did not attend Doctor Shepherd, he simply told them to ask Shepherd for he could tell them who was his enemy, and the reason why. Considering the doctor's great bereavement in the loss of his wife, I called at times to console him.

I felt small in view of his age and profession, but I regarded it as a duty of my calling, as he was a member of the church. He was greatly bowed in spirit, and my words impressed him to turn his heart towards me. At one time he asked if I walked to my appointments. I said I did, and he told me to meet him next day at his plantation a few miles distant and he would furnish me a horse to ride. I went, he sent for his band of horses and told me to take my choice. I chose a fine young horse just broke to ride, and he gave me money to buy me a saddle and bridle. So here I was raised almost as rich in feeling as a Lord. But I did not forget whence blessings come nor forget to show my gratitude to the hand that gave. And now in visiting him I saw there was something I did not comprehend. But the Lord gave me wisdom and discernment and I was so led in conversation with him that he soon unbosomed his whole soul to me, and told me he had yet to finish the job and kill his enemy. Here came a test of my influence to restrain him, and I confronted him at once upon the subject. I told him the Lord had delivered his enemy into his hand, he had had every chance to kill him that the Lord was willing to give, and that as his enemy was by a miracle saved from death he must now leave it in the hands of the Lord.

He was of the hot southern blood, and would seem to agree when talking with me, but by the next visit would have returned to the same feeling and determination as before. It was now said the young doctor would recover. This so wrought upon the old doctor, that I saw something must be done to deter him; otherwise he would walk into the sick room, and kill him, even should a multitude be present, for he cared apparently nothing for his own life. Only one idea enthused him--to kill the young doctor--all else was swallowed up in that one desire. What now should I do? I must save him from himself. To me there was a horror in the thought of his killing the miserable creature. I felt he would not again be justified and as he had become a dear friend, and was kind to me, I must not lose my hold upon him. I must save him by saving the young doctor. I prayed, and a thought came to me, which I quickly acted upon. With pencil I wrote in letters like print to Dr. Shepherd telling him he must leave there without delay or die. I slipped the letter under his door at night. He found it in the morning, and the whole country round about became a ferment. A strong guard was placed around the young doctor, and every man in the vicinity was required by a public vote to come to the justice of the peace and make oath as to whether he had any knowledge of the writing or its writer. Every name was taken and every man was sworn but myself, the one who wrote it. I was not suspected of having anything to do in the matter. Dr.Knights saw himself foiled; he could not approach his enemy, being now suspected by the friends of Dr. Shepherd, and at the time it seemed as if Dr. Knights would go wild.

About this time I learned that Brother Babbitt and my sister had returned from Philadelphia, where he had been laboring with much success, and were for the present in Kirtland. Dr. Knights' conversion being the fruits of his labor, of course he was held in high esteem. The thought came to me to urge Dr. Knights to go at once to Kirtland and find Brother Babbitt. At first he could not consent to abandon the great and only object of his life. While holding up to him the higher obligations of duty to his little sons, he would seem nearly convinced, and turned from his object, but on my next visit, he said if I would accompany him he would go, but not by public conveyance. He would provide a horse and buggy, and we could go where and when we pleased. If I should consent to go, my air castles would fall to the ground, for in the vicinity there appeared to be a broad field for labor, and I had now a fine horse and outfit, and could perform a mission here, and do a good work, and return to my mother and kindred; and to her that the Prophet had given me, who when I left appeared to love me. It seemed the Lord had another purpose, for just at this period I received a letter from her, saying, that as I was now gone and not knowing when I would return, her mother wished her to marry another man. Following it came a letter from my friend, D. Huntington, saying my Lucinda had through her mother's influence married a licentiate by the name of David Smith. Those who in early life have been too roughly awakened from a dream of happiness need not be told of the influence of such a disappointment upon an organization like mine. I concluded to go with the doctor, and felt that in leaving, my way might open into a broader and more distant mission field. I filled my appointments while the doctor was arranging his affairs, turned my horse back into the band from which I took him, and was, with all my idols broken, ready for a start.

I think it was now about the middle of July 1840, and the doctor not wishing his leaving to be public, met me in a neighboring town. I found he had an outfit fit for princes, and we started on our journey eastward. The distance to Kirtland I think was over 400 miles and it took some two weeks to make the trip. Where the doctor was known I was at times asked to preach, which I did.

I had always to watch as well as pray, for at times the old influences would be strong upon him that I was compelled to dog his very steps. Once he slipped from bed before I awoke, and I found him getting into the stage as it was starting. I pulled him from the steps of the coach and after his anger was appeased I asked him what was his idea in leaving me with his outfit and trunk, in which I knew was much money, what he would expect me to do with it or with myself. He said if he left me by no means to turn back, that all he left was mine. But had it been a thousandfold, the influence of money could not tempt me to loosen my hold upon him to keep him with me.

On our arrival in Kirtland, and in company with Brother and Sister Babbitt he began to greatly improve in spirit and feeling, and had no desire to return to the west but rather to go farther east. He said he would like to visit Canada, and asked if I would go with him. He also invited Brother Babbitt and my sister to go. In this I felt there was a purpose, and that if I went to Canada I would remain there to continue my mission. As Elder Babbitt had labored in Toronto, raised up a branch, and still had friends there, he was quite ready to go there. And so, after visiting my father and my sister, Almera, who had married a man in no way worthy of her, we enjoyed ourselves here a season, and then started as the doctor's party, he bearing all expenses, went down the lake to Buffalo, visited Niagara Falls, then went to Toronto and visited, where I found an apparent opening for preaching. When the doctor had tarried long enough in Her Majesty's Dominions, and was ready to return, I had concluded to remain and see if a field of labor would open for me in that land.

They returned and left me alone among entire strangers, over a thousand miles from home, on foot and penniless. It was then the rule to travel without purse or scrip and if the doctor offered me any money I had refused it, for I felt I had been a great expense to him. I was too simple hearted to think of what, by the blessing of the Lord, I had done for him. They returned to Kirtland, took with them my sister, Almera, and started for Ramus, twenty miles east of Nauvoo, where my mother and kindred then lived. The doctor went with them, seemingly cured of his mania for the young doctor's life. But what a reverse to my fond hopes, I must not reflect upon it, but move towards an opening for usefulness, and make friends by preaching the gospel, for I now felt friendless and desolate. My anxiety for the doctor had filled me with care, and had so completely absorbed my thoughts that they must now be whipped back to the spirit of my mission. I soon realized that instead of being in a new and fresh field of labor I was in the stubble field, already harvested by older and more experienced elders, such as Parley P. Pratt, J. E. Page, A. W. Babbitt and others, and at most I could be but a gleaner. A few at Toronto, who had friends at Nauvoo, invited me to call upon them, and others, from a desire to learn particulars of our persecutions, etc., but no opening appeared for preaching. In a few country places I found openings to preach for a season and in Union District, some miles north of Toronto I preached for quite a season and was kindly treated by the people, especially those at a large farm home near by. Here I preached twice a week to large congregations, with good liberty, and perhaps began to feel a degree of self importance not approved of by the Lord.

At this time the prophecy of Daniel would be the subject of my next discourse. I had not yet learned the admonition of Paul "Let him that thinketh he stands take heed lest he fall." It had never yet been forced upon me, but it came, nevertheless, and left a lifetime impression upon my mind, for at the time appointed a large and expectant congregation filled the house. With a degree of self-confidence I went to the stand with a feeling akin to exultation in the large congregation, and in what I felt so sure I should be able to say to them. I opened the meeting as usual, took my Bible and began to read from Daniel, but the scripture that had before seemed so full of light was now dark. I turned others, but all were dark. The light of the Lord had left me, and I stood there alone before that large congregation, alone in my own strength, and in my nakedness I almost felt a horror of myself. I stood there speechless, and mortified. And oh! the sense of ingratitude to the Lord that came over me. To think how He had helped me, and that all I was He had made me, and now I stood there in my own strength, and was humbled in the dust, with a feeling that the ground under me ought to open out and let me down out of the sight of all. The flood gates of my heart broke, and I wept. The congregation sat silent, and I could feel their pity. The thought came over me to be honest before God, the people and myself, and confess all before them, and as I opened my mouth, my speech came to me and I asked them if they had not often heard me speak to their understanding and edification, and if I had not always told them I was but a plow boy sent out like the apostles of old, to preach by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, and that without it, I was nothing, as was now proved there before them; that for some cause known to the Lord, His Spirit had left me, and they now saw me in my own strength, in which I could do nothing. I said, "As you have come out today only to be disappointed, perhaps you would not be willing to come again." But I saw they believed me honest, and I said, "If you will allow me to have another appointment, rise to your feet." When all the congregation rose, I said I would preach again if the Lord would help me, at the usual time, and dismissed the meeting. A feeling of kindness pervaded all, but oh, how small I felt. I prayed the Lord to forgive my great ingratitude, and I would try forever more not to forget how dependent I was upon Him. To this day I have retained a lively remembrance of the experience.

At the next meeting, when the Lord had forgiven my sin and loosened my tongue, the people felt that the "Boy Preacher," as I was called, no longer needed their sympathies, for there was a power greater than theirs that accompanied him.

In this place it seemed there were those who believed, but none came forward for baptism, and I often caught the idea that I looked too young and feeble to baptize anybody. I was very thin, much afflicted with pain in my side, and at times I seemed to lose all care for my health and life, and would sometimes stand three hours in vehement speaking to a congregation. I wished to bear my testimony, and felt that I could not die in a better cause, and that it was the Lord's busi