While every ass that's seeking a post
     Is loudly braying the Mormons to kill!

   But Brigham with a steady hand
     Guides Zion's Ship of State aright,
   And with Jehovah's helping hand,
     She'll weather the seas on this stormy night.

During the preceding three months the elders who came in 1854 had been
released, a few at a time; and as fast as they had been able to get
means, they had quietly sailed for home. On the 4th of October, 1857,
after having labored three years, I also was released. Accordingly,
as soon as conference was over, I crossed the channel in a whale boat
to Molokai. I had not a cent in my pocket, and was poorly clothed. I
worked one month for Mr. Meyers, a German whose acquaintance I had
made while presiding over the Molokai conference. For this service I
received twenty dollars. I next sold my gold pen and some books for
five dollars, and then returned in a whale boat to Lahaina. Of this, my
last sea voyage in a whale boat, my journal says:

"Friday, November 7, 1857, at midnight I set sail in Makapoos' whale
boat. The moon shone brightly, throwing her soft mellow light over the
surface of the great deep. Not a breath of air was stirring; the sea
was calm and smooth; and we sped swiftly on, propelled by four stout
oarsmen. Presently I lay down to sleep. Sweet dreams visited me. I
forgot for a time that I was a stranger on a strange land, or rather
an inexperienced youth dwelling with a benighted branch of Israel, and
trying to teach them the Gospel of salvation.

We reached Lahaina at sunrise, but as there was no wharf, I had to
be carried ashore. A brawny Kanaka undertook the job, but stumbled
headlong, giving us both a thorough ducking. As I walked along the
public thoroughfare I met several half-clad prostitutes returning to
their homes from the dens of vice that befoul this fair city of palm
trees.

Presently I turned aside to a little grass hut, ten by twelve in size,
and surrounded by numerous fish sheds. Here I was greeted by Elders
Alma L. Smith and William Naylor, two faithful Mormon boys. Brother
Smith was laid up with a broken arm. For one month these brethren had
lived in this unwholesome place, with none to pity, or administer unto
them, except Brother Kalua, who lived from hand to mouth by fishing.

We sat down to breakfast,--poi and salt, and not enough of that. I went
out and bought twenty-five cents' worth of fish, and this addition gave
us an enjoyable meal. I next paid Alma's doctor bill of twenty dollars,
which left me five dollars to go home with.

On November 9th, Elder William W. Cluff arrived from Waialuku. He, like
myself, was hunting work in order to get money with which to return
home. Brother Smith's arm having got strong enough so that he could
travel, he and Brother Naylor started for Waialuku, a mile walk over a
waterless mountain.

I wrote as follows to my brother who was laboring on Hawaii:

"Dear Brother Franklin W.: It has been a long time since I received a
line from you. I presume your letters have not reached me, as I have
been shifting from place to place for the last two months. I came to
Lahaina last Saturday with intention of going to Hawaii to see you; but
no opportunity has been offered, and I am compelled to go home without
seeing you. I have only five dollars with which to go, hence I cannot
run around much;--but my heart yearns to see you. The thought of going
home without saying farewell is painful. If I could see you for one
day--then I could return to our loved ones, rejoicing.

"As it is, I go--pure and uncontaminated from the evils of the world.
I love those with whom I have been associated while on this mission;
both those who have returned and who are about to return to our
war-threatened vales; and my heart is no less warm to those whose duty
it is to tarry in the mission field. I pray God to bless them, and to
bless you, my brother.

"Be humble, prayerful, and diligent: 'tis the only path that leads to
honor, glory, and salvation."

The night of November 10th was dark and stormy. I heard the captain of
the Maria say he would not unfurl canvas for five hundred dollars; but
the captain of the Moi was more venturesome. Desirous of obtaining a
cargo that had been promised to the Maria, he sailed immediately for
Honolulu. Elder Cluff and I took passage, two dollars each cabin. Upon
reaching that city I walked the streets three days before I found work.
I then got a job of digging a well, and building some stone wall for a
Mr. Duncan, he giving me one dollar a day and board.

On November 20, 1857, I received the following letter from the
President's Office, Salt Lake City, dated September 4, 1857:

"John and Franklin Young, Honolulu, Sandwich Islands:

"My dear Nephews: Yours of April 23rd has just been received per
southern California mail. I feel thankful to observe the good spirit
breathed in your letter. The prospects for Zion's cause are indeed
cheering, when elders like unto a majority of those now abroad are
found to preach the Gospel.

"Our harvest has been most abundant. We have threshed eighty bushels of
wheat from an acre on the Church farm. Almost all the men are engaged
in harvesting and securing our grain.

"The public works are progressing rapidly; and although there
are apparent prospects of an open rupture with the United States
government, yet the brethren continue to build and improve, much as
though we were at peace with all the world.

"I suppose you are posted in regard to the difficulties that threaten
us. The government has collected two regiments of infantry, one of
dragoons, and two batteries of artillery, and has placed them under the
command of that blood-thirsty old villain, General Harney, with orders
to come to Utah and regulate the Mormons. This has been done without
investigating, or even taking into consideration our own reports, or
looking at any circumstance which would withdraw the pretext, which
they have for years been seeking, to make a final or fatal blow at the
kingdom.

"We had determined years ago, if a mob again attacked us, whether led
by their own passions, or unconstitutionally legalized by the general
government, or by the government of any of the states, or territories,
that we'll resist their aggressions by making an appeal to God and
our own right arms, for that protection which has been denied us by
christianized and civilized nations. Our former determination remains
unshaken. Your father, mother, and all the family are well. William G.
and James A. have not arrived; but I expect them in the course of three
or four weeks. Brother Heber and Daniel desire kind remembrance to you.

"May the God of Israel ever inspire you to do His will, and make you an
honorable instrument in His hand of accomplishing much good upon the
earth, is the sincere prayer of your uncle,

"Brigham Young."

Chapter 13.

Praise for the Elders.--Efforts to Bring Two Natives to Utah.--Sail for
Home.--Description of Steerage.--An Earnest Prayer.--Timidity of the
Saints.--Baptize a New Convert at Midnight.

November 22, 1857. The day was beautiful, perhaps because my heart
felt to rejoice; for I had been truly blest during my sojourn on these
islands. I attended meeting and listened to remarks by Elders Bigler,
Woodbury, Bell, and Cluff. I loved Brother Bigler for his wisdom and
humility; Brother Woodbury for his loyalty to the Church, and for his
eloquence in preaching in Kanaka. Truly his speaking was a gift, and
came not by his own wisdom.

I spoke on the nature of opposition. Herod sought to kill Jesus
Christ, because Christ came with power to organize and establish God's
kingdom upon the earth. The Jews persecuted him because they feared,
"lest all the world would go after him, and they would lose their
place and nation." And so it was with the Christians when the Prophet
Joseph came; they feared him, for he had more powder, wisdom, and
godliness than all of them. They do not hate us personally; but they
are determined to resist the truth, and overthrow the kingdom. Their
inspiration comes from Satan.

The following is from my journal of Friday, November 27, 1857:

"We are anxious to take two native elders home with us; but their laws
forbid their emigrating without a government permit. For this reason
Elders Bigler, Woodbury, and I waited on his excellency, Governor
Kekuanaao. He is a large, robust, fine-looking, elderly man; and like
all Hawaiians, he is fond of ease and good living.

"We apprised him of our desires and asked his permission for two of our
Hawaiian brethren to go home with us. He was quite ignorant of the law
on this matter, but said he would consult Prince Lot, and if there were
no objections he would grant our request. We called next on his royal
highness, Prince Lot, and found him clad in rich Chinese costume. He is
above the medium height, strong, well-built, about twenty-five years of
age, kind and courteous in manner, and speaks good English.

"On December 2, 1857, the government informed us that they declined to
let the native brethren go with us.

"Monday, December 7th. For thirty dollars I secured steerage passage on
the bark Yankee, to San Francisco. I had ten dollars left, and having
sold my only coat for ten dollars, left the twenty dollars with Elder
Bigler to give to my brother Franklin W. who was still on Hawaii.

"Wednesday, December 9, 1857, Elders Sextus E. Johnson, William King,
Eli Bell, William W. Cluff, Smith B. Thurston, John A. West, Simpson
M. Molen, George Speirs, and John R. Young sailed for home on the bark
Yankee. The treatment we received was anything but courteous, and so
the following doggerel verses fairly illustrate our feelings:

 "The wealthy gent may think I'm wrong
 In writing this poor, uncouth song.
 But those who share my humble berth
 Will count my theme of greater worth.
 Perhaps you all who've crossed the sea
 Have, of the mfamous bark Yankee,
 Heard much of good, by fiction told.
 But now the truth I will unfold.
 Poverty, I know, is oft despised
 By those who think they're rich and wise.
 But oft in modest birth we'll find
 Men of sense, and noble mind.

 "Excuse sufficient this must be,
 True worth needs no apology.
 You to our steerage I'll invite,
 Where you shall see a motley sight.
 For here we sit 'mong ropes and rags,
 Spars, chicken coops, and dirty bags,
 Turkeys, sheep, and guinea hens,
 With Johnny Ching Ching,--all in one pen--
 A pen some folks a steerage call,
 With ample room to hold us all.

 "From morn till night we sit around,
 Like gypsies camping on the ground.
 Some of us talk, and others sing,
 While some are busy scrimshawing.
 Some of politics are talking,
 Others on the decks are walking,
 And with the dogs ofttimes are playing,
 But pause to hear some witty saying.
 Below sits Caesar with open hymn-book
 Seeking grace with a pious look;
 While carpenter and mate with hammer,
 Do their best to make a clamor.

 "Hark! now the bell for dinner rings,
 And each one for the hatchway springs.
 'Old Salt horse again' half-raw,
 To chew would need an iron jaw.
 'Look here, cook, this meat's not done.'
 'Boiled three hours,' cries Afric's son.
 'But if you do not like the meat,
 There's murphies plus sea bread to eat.
 You can't complain, for as the crew
 Are treated by us, so are you.'
 These are the words of Captain Bob,
 Who thinks no harm poor men to rob.
 For robber it is, in every sense,
 To treat men thus, to save expense.

 "Now for our hammocks let us look;
 Search your corner--scan each nook.
 Vain the search. From hatch to hatch
 The Yankee's steerage has no match.
 On ropes and barrels men must lie,
 Thankful to get a little hay.
 For forty dollars per head we've got
 A passage minus bed or cot.
 Filled with barrels, ropes and sails,
 Where light o'er darkenss [sic] ne'er prevails.
 Here men are classed with brutish dogs,
 And treated worse than farmer's hogs.

 "Such odious scenes you can't admire,
 So from the steerage let's retire.
 But when again we go to sea
 'Twill not be in the bark Yankee.
 To you, dear friends, I'll say goodbye--
 For supper time is drawing nigh--
 And welcome are the hours of night
 That from my view will hide the sight
 Of filth and dirt, and drive away
 The thoughts that haunt me all the day.

"Saturday, December 26, 1857. This morning land could be seen from the
mast head. At ten a.m. it could be seen from deck. At noon we hove in
sight of the Golden Gate, and soon sailed into the beautiful bay of
Frisco.

"But now the wind died, and we were left without a breath of air. The
sailors whistled, but the sails flapped lazily, and the ship moved not.
The day slipped away, the moon rose in all its splendor, the night was
beautiful, and there lay the city with her thousand sparkling lamps.
Oh, how I longed to be on shore, to tread American soil once more, to
walk on my native land the land of my fathers, where I should be glad
to dwell in peace.

"But alas, that boon is denied me. Even now the camp fires are kindled
by a strong, and well-disciplined army sent by a corrupt government to
rob my parents, kindred, and people, of the sacred rights bequeathed
them by their noble sires who fought and bled, to win the freedom and
justice that England refused to grant. And yet this same nation, that
became thus, under the blessing of God, a home for the free, and an
asylum for the oppressed has now turned to be an oppressor!

"O, God, hear my prayer. For Thou knowest the integrity of my heart.
I have returned from the mission Thou gavest me through Thy servant,
to find Thy covenant people denied their rights; falsely accused, and
persecuted without cause; therefore, I pray Thee, do Thou guard and
protect them. Deliver them. Father, from all their enemies. Let the
armies of the oppressor go backwards and not forward! Let the fierce
storms and tempests of the mountains block their way. May contentions
arise among them, and union be far from them, until they turn to
righteousness and abide by the Constitution which Thou didst give by
inspiration to our fathers. I ask it in the name of Jesus Christ, Thy
Son. Amen."

On Sunday, December 27, 1857, I attended meeting in the home of Brother
Dwight Eveleth, President of the San Francisco branch. The local Saints
were afraid to sing, or talk aloud in our meetings, for fear of being
heard upon the street. But I felt like shouting Hosannah, and I would
not be restrained. Attracted by my voice, several strangers called in.
After meeting, I walked down to the bay and baptized Elijah E. Warren,
a young man from Santa Clara.

Chapter 14.

Visit My Cousin.--His Tempting Offer.--Meet the Agents of Mr. Walker,
the Nicaragua Filibusterer.--Baptize Mrs. Bradford.

On Monday, December 28, 1857, I borrowed two dollars and fifty cents
and bought from a Jew store a very good second-hand coat as I had come
from the islands in my shirt sleeves. The returning elders scattered
out in search of work. Elders Molen and Speirs went to Sacramento,
Elders Johnson, King, West, and Thurston went to the Redwoods; while
Elders Cluff, Bell, and I remained in the city.

I visited my cousin, Lorenzo Sawyer, attorney general for the state
of California. He said if I would stay with him, he would send me to
school for three years, then let me study law in his office a year, and
then give me one thousand dollars in gold to commence life. I thanked
him, but told him there was not gold enough in California to bribe me
from going home, and sharing the destiny of the Latter-day Saints.

I also met at Brother Eveleth's, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Harbin, and Mr.
Mathewsen, straight from New York, agents of Mr. Walker, the celebrated
filibusterer. They were commissioned to go to Utah and sell the Mormon
people two million acres of land in Central America. I did all I could
to dissuade them from going, but in vain.

Before leaving the island, I was counseled to change my name, as the
spirit of persecution was strong against us in all parts of the United
States. Hence, I was now passing under the name of John Brown; but I
could not conceal my identity. Everybody knew me, and President Eveleth
advised, as a precautionary measure, that I should leave the city.

Tuesday, December 29, 1857. Elders William Cluff, Eli Bell, and I took
stage for the Redwoods, seeking opportunity to work where no one knew
me. When within four miles of Whipple's mills, we left the stage and
walked through the fields. The mill had closed for the day. One man
was working at the saw. Brother Cluff and I sat down on a log, while
Brother Bell went to make inquiries.

As soon as the man was addressed, he left his work and came straight
to me, saying, "Brother Young, I am glad to see you. A few nights ago,
I saw you in a dream, and I know you have been sent here to do a good
work." Again everybody knew me, and I told the brethren that, live or
die, from this time on I would be John R. Young.

I went to work for Brother Eli Whipple. He owned a large steam
saw-mill, and was anxious to close out and go to Utah. His wife and
three daughters were not in the Church, and were opposed to gathering.
In fact Mrs. Whipple was very bitter toward me. I pleaded earnestly
with the Lord that He would soften her heart and bring her into the
Church. In about three weeks I had the joy of seeing her and Mrs. Mary
Whipple Walker baptized.

Sister Whipple gave me the following account of her conversion: "When
you first came to live with us, I thought you were the ugliest-looking
man that I had ever seen. You looked dark and swarthy, and I could not
help but hate you. One evening, after you had borne a testimony to me,
I went into my room, knelt down and prayed. I asked God, if what you
had said was true, to give me some evidence of it. That night I dreamed
that I saw you clothed in white raiment, and your face shone like the
face of an angel. In the morning when I met you, I could see a halo of
light around your face. And I never see you now but what there is a
bright spot on your cheek."

Ever since that day Aunt Patience has been as kind and gentle to me as
my own mother. So did the Father answer my prayers.

Brother Whipple had a large number of logs scattered among the timber,
ready to be hauled to the mill. I took four yoke of his oxen and went
to logging. One day, as I came in muddy and tired, I met a gentleman
who asked for Mr. Young. I answered: "That's my name." But he wanted
Elder Young, the Mormon preacher; and he could hardly comprehend how
a man could be an ox driver and a minister of the Gospel at the same
time. After supper I held meeting in the kitchen, and talked to a house
full of earnest listeners until midnight.

On Saturday, February 6, 1858, I went home with Mr. Bradford, the
gentleman who came the previous evening. I stayed a week with him.
Daytimes I threshed barley with a flail, at two dollars a day; evenings
I gave Gospel talks to his family and a few invited friends. At the end
of the week, his wife wanted to be baptized. The doctors and ministers
visited her, and said that if she went into the water it would kill
her, as her health was delicate, and she had been heavily dosed with
calomel.

Nevertheless, at three o'clock Sunday morning, we put her into a spring
wagon and drove fifteen miles to a secluded place on a sparkling
mountain stream. Mr. Bradford helped me carry her into the water, and I
baptized her for the remission of her sins, and confirmed her a member
of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I then returned to the Redwoods and held a meeting at Brother
Whipple's. A good many strangers attended; and as a result of these
meetings seven persons were added to the Church, for which I greatly
rejoiced.

About this time my Brother Franklin W. arrived from the islands.

Chapter 15.

Start for a Thirteen-Hundred-Mile Walk.--Become Indian Scout--Meet
Jacob Hamblin, the Indian Peacemaker.--Surrounded by Forty Indian
Warriors.--Shooting a Dove Saves our Scalps.

By the first of March forty persons had gathered at the Redwoods, 40
miles south of San Francisco, prepared to go to Utah. We organized a
company by appointing Eli Whipple, captain; Sextus E. Johnson, sergeant
of the guard; John R. Young, chaplain; and Elemuel Sawtell, clerk.

Brother Whipple furnished the provisions, and hauled the blankets
for the returning elders, thirteen in number; and with hearts full
of hope and joy we started out for a walk of thirteen hundred miles.
Before setting out, Joseph A. Kelting and I went to San Francisco and
purchased thirty-five rifles and one hundred pounds of powder.

At the start grass was short, and teams were heavily loaded, so we
traveled slowly. By the middle of April, it was evident that our
provisions would not last us through. Our meat was nearly gone, and I
began to urge the brethren to lie over a day and hunt. However, as we
saw but little game, and killed none, there was no spirit for hunting.

On the 20th of April we camped at Elizabeth's Lake. After evening camp
prayers, I talked and prophesied that if we would lie over, and go
out to hunt, we should kill all the meat we should want. The company
consented; and the next morning at daybreak thirteen of us started out.
I was the odd man, and went alone.

I had walked about a mile when I saw nine deer standing across a
hollow. I fired and killed a large buck. That commenced the ball.
William King killed three without moving out of his tracks. By noon we
had in all, twenty-two deer. We lay by and jerked the meat. Needless to
say, we had plenty to last us the rest of the journey.

At Stony Creek, Mr. Cooper and party from New York, overtook us. My
services were secured to pilot them to Salt Lake City. So bidding
goodbye to my fellow missionaries, who were very dear to me, and to the
Saints that composed our little company, I mounted a mule and struck
the trail for home.

On the Mohave, having struck the Mormon road leading from Salt Lake
to San Bernardino, we saw Indian signs. The redskins approached our
camp at night, but kept out of sight in the day time. That looked
unfriendly. At the lower crossing of the Mohave we picketed our animals
close around our wagon.

At three o'clock in the morning, they stampeded, and all got away but
one. I mounted bareback, without stopping to dress, and soon overtook
the frightened animals, and making a wide circuit, brought them safely
to camp.

At the Vegas Springs T met for the first time, that renowned Indian
peacemaker, Jacob Hamblin, and learned from him the history of the
Mountain Meadows Massacre. He said the Indians were still hostile, and
thirsting for more blood. On the Muddy, a small stream of that region,
we found living in a wagon-bed, turned bottom-side up for a shield
from heat and sand, Ira Hatch and Thales Haskell, strong men, giving
the better part of their lives to missionary work among the Indians--a
labor that brought them neither pleasure nor wealth.

Taking their advice, we rested a day, purposing to make rapid drives
from there to the settlements. On the 13th of May we nooned at the
Beaver Dams, rested until night, then drove to the Clara Mountains,
made a dry camp, kindling no fire. In the morning we drove to the Cane
Spring for breakfast.

Scarcely had we turned out our horses when we were surrounded by forty
Indian warriors, their faces all blackened. I soon became convinced
that they had been watching for us, and intended to rob, if not kill
us. Many of them had on good broadcloth clothes, which I suppose they
had taken from the people they had murdered at the Mountain Meadows.
Most of them had good guns, and they were very insolent, helping
themselves to whatever they wanted.

A few minutes after they came, a mourning dove alighted on a willow
at the head of the spring, about twelve rods from our camp. The wind
was blowing hard from the south, waving the willow on which the bird
rested. The Indians commenced shooting at it. With a sudden impulse, I
raised my rifle and fired. If I had had the dove in my hand, I could
not have cut its head off more nicely than I did.

The Indians seemed astonished, and for a short time were quiet. In
our small company--only five of us--was a mountaineer by the name of
Hardin. I felt that he was the only man that could be relied on in case
of trouble. He had loaded a double-barrelled shotgun with navy balls,
and stood leaning by the side of the carriage, the butt of his gun on
the ground, the muzzle resting in his right hand.

Three Indians crawled under the carriage and commenced scuffling.
Instantly one barrel of his gun went off, taking off the upper part of
Hardin's ear, and tearing away the rim of his hat. It knocked him down,
and I thought he was killed. The chief threw the back of his hand to
his mouth and gave the war whoop.

I cocked my gun and put the muzzle against his belly. He stopped
yelling, and Hardin sprang up and attempted to shoot him; but I
interfered, telling the men that our lives depended on our keeping the
chief.

I then spoke in Ute, and ordered the Indians to their camp, but kept
the chief a prisoner. We hitched up, and putting the chief into the
carriage, drove until three o'clock, then rested until dark, when we
hitched up and drove rapidly until midnight. We then camped, tied up,
and stood guard without a fire until morning. After breakfast, we gave
the Indian a shirt and plug of tobacco, and told him to "git."

Years after, I became intimately acquainted with this chief Jackson.
He was a bad man; and while he lived there was no peace with his band.
Without doubt, all that saved our scalps at that time was the fortunate
shot in killing the dove, and the course we pursued in keeping the
chief a prisoner.

After turning the Indian loose, we passed a painfully anxious day; our
animals were so exhausted that we had to take several rests, and were
fearful of being followed by the Indians. Just before night, however,
we had the good fortune to pull into the town of Pinto, the frontier
Mormon settlement.

We were kindly received by the good people of that ward, and after
resting a few days, continued our journey. The monotony of the desert
was now pleasingly changed by the many ranches and busy villages we
passed. At Parowan, two hundred miles south of Salt Lake City, we
encountered a scene that I shall never forget. I remember distinctly,
the "Exodus," as it was called, from Nauvoo, when sixteen thousand
souls left their homes and commenced that marvelous journey of fourteen
hundred miles to the unknown valley of the Salt Lake. But that exodus
was like a small rivulet by the side of a mighty river when compared
with the seventy-five thousand men, women, and children that we now met
in one continuous line of travel.

Horses, oxen, and cows were harnessed or yoked to wagons and carts;
and one family by the name of Syphus, was moving their effects on a
handcart drawn by a pair of yearling steers. Mothers and children
walked along as merrily as if going to a corn husking; each family
moving its little bunch of cows and flock of sheep, and all starting on
the journey (that was never completed) to Sonora, in Mexico, or some
other place.

At times we were compelled to drive our wagon for miles outside the
beaten road, everywhere hearing and seeing evidences that increased my
gentile companions' wonderment of the marvelous power held by Brigham
Young over his people; and added to my curiosity to see the outcome of
Mr. Cooper's colonizing scheme. Surely everything looked favorable for
the promoters of that idea.

At last we reached Provo, where the Church leaders had made their
temporary headquarters. In the evening I visited President Young, and
made known to him the object of Mr. Cooper's visit. Two days later he
gave audience to Messrs. Cooper, Mathewsen, and Hardin. They held a
lengthy conversation, in which Mr. Cooper, in glowing language, told
the Mormon leaders what a splendid opportunity it was for them to lead
their people to Central America, where, he said, they could found an
empire that would crown the stirring life of Brigham Young and his
associates with endless glory.

I can still hear the ringing words of Brigham Young's answer:
"Gentlemen," said he, "God Almighty made these everlasting hills to be
bulwarks of liberty for the oppressed and down-trodden of the earth.
We shall never leave here and go to a country where we should have six
hundred miles of sea coast to defend, and where any nation at their
pleasure could send war ships to bombard our cities. Furthermore,
gentlemen, should the desire ever come, we have hundreds of boys, just
as capable of going to Nicaragua, and of taking possession and holding
it, too, as General Walker of New York. Gentlemen, you have our answer."

On June 23, 1858, my cousin, Brigham Young, Jr., carried me in his
one-horse buggy to Salt Lake City. At Draper I received the kiss of
welcome from my dear sister, Harriet M. Brown, and from my dear aged
mother. At the city I met my father, who, like a lion in his lair, was
watching the coming fate of his deserted home. He and a few fearless,
trusted men had been left behind to see that Johnston's army kept its
pledges not to quarter in the city. Had they broken their pledge the
city would have been burned.

I sat with the guards in the upper room of the Lion House, and saw that
army in death-like silence march through the deserted streets of the
dead city, a few of the officers with uncovered heads, as if attending
a funeral. To us western mountain boys, the solemnity of the march was
oppressive; and glad relief came to our strained feelings, when we saw
the soldiers' camp fires kindled on the "other side of Jordan."

Chapter 16.

Home Activities.--Counseled Not to Study Law.--Called to Uinta, and
Dixie.

As soon as I had seen the army "pass through," I returned to Provo
to report myself to President Young. I had been gone on my mission a
little over four years, as before recorded. When Apostle John Taylor
set me apart for this mission he said, "You shall be cast upon the
bosom of the sea; but fear not, the hand of the Lord shall be over you,
and you shall return in safety to your father's home;" also in parting
President Young had said: "If you will be humble, live near the Lord,
and not commit sin, when you return you will take me by the hand and
tell me that you know Mormonism is true." I had kept the conditions,
and I knew the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth,
and that it is the power of God unto salvation to all who receive and
obey it.

About this time peace was restored by President Buchanan's proclamation
of pardon to the Mormons. I took hold with energy to help move my
father's families back from the south, whither they had fled, at the
near approach of the army. That task accomplished, I made arrangements
to go to San Francisco, intending to live with my cousin, Lorenzo
Sawyer, and go to school and study law.

One day, as I passed Uncle Brigham's office, he called to me, then
came out and walked with me to Brother Wells' corner. We sat down on a
pile of lumber, and I told him my plans. He counseled me not to go to
California, to let the law alone, to find a good girl, get married, and
make me a home.

During the winter I attended a school taught by Sister Eleanor Pratt,
and here became acquainted with Miss S. E. Carmichael, one of Utah's
most gifted daughters.

On January 1, 1859, I married Albina Terry, eldest daughter of William
Reynolds and Mary Phillips Terry. During the summer following, I worked
as a farm hand for my brother-in-law, Joseph G. Brown. On November 12,
1859, I moved to Payson and bought a home of David Crockett, paying for
it during the winter by hauling tithing wheat from Sanpete valley to
Salt Lake City.

November 16, 1859, my eldest son, John Terry, was born. The mother came
near dying with hemorrhage at the nose, but Elders Levi W. Hancock and
William McBride laid hands on her, and she was instantly healed.

In the spring of 1861, I was called, with ten other families of
Payson, to help settle the Uinta country. I sold my home, bought two
good teams, and loaded up my things; then going to Salt Lake City, I
reported to President Young for specific instructions. After a long
talk, in which he seemed pleased with my labors, he told me the Indians
had become hostile, and he should release those who had been called. He
advised that I return to Payson and buy another home. I did so, trading
my teams for a house and lot and ten acres of farm land.

I also rented a ranch, with twenty cows and a flock of sheep, for three
years, of James McClellan. During the summer I picked up sixty calves,
to be kept on halves. I also married as second wife. Miss Lydia Knight,
daughter of Newell Knight, a life long trusted friend of the Prophet
Joseph Smith.

Everything that I touched seemed to prosper, and I was happy--but the
"best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley." In the fall, I was
called, in connection with my Brother Franklin W., who at that time was
bishop of Payson, to go to Dixie.

I purchased two yoke of oxen and a big wagon. My Brother Franklin W.
accompanied me as far as Toquer, where we parted. I going to the Santa
Clara, I bought an Indian farm situated on the creek just below the Old
Mission fort. I worked hard during days, fencing with timber that grew
on the place. The long evenings I spent in grubbing the heavy sage and
squaw brush that covered a great portion of the farm. My wives, Albina,
and Lydia, would pile the brush, and keep up fires so that I could see
to work. We were ambitious to make a good home; and the only capital we
had was health, strong-arms, and resolute will.

Just as I had completed the fence, and had several acres ready for
plowing, the Big Flood came like a thief in the night. The wall of
water, which was ten to fifteen feet high, struck the west side of
the fort, a rock structure two hundred feet square, in which several
families were living. The solid wall stood as a dam, causing the stream
to divide the greater part following the creek channel to the south,
but a sheet of water four or five feet deep spewing over the creek
bank, and running along the fort wall until it came to the north side,
where it swept through the gate like a mill race, flooding the inside
of the fort to a man's armpits.

Such were the conditions when the inmates of the fort were awakened to
their peril. The alarm was given to those living outside of the fort;
and soon all the men, and some of the women, were gathered at the point
of danger. The first care was to rescue the women and children.

Inside the fort, the water was comparatively still, so that men were
able to move around as they wished; but as they approached the gate,
no man unassisted could stem the current. To remedy this, a rope was
passed from a tree on the outside, through the gate, and made fast to
a post on the inside. By holding to this line, men could pass in and
out; the women and children were then taken on the men's shoulders and
carried to a place of safety.

The rescue was scarcely accomplished, before another danger faced us;
for by this time the high tide of the flood had passed; and the channel
of the creek, which had also become enlarged, sucked the water from the
overflowed flats, strengthened the current in the creek, undermining
its banks, and caving them in. Suddenly the southwest corner of the
fort, Ira Hatch's home, fell into the flood, sweeping away everything
he owned. Other families suffered, but he, taken by surprise, lost all.

Across the creek from the fort was a little grist mill owned by Jacob
Hamblin. Father Chamberlain, the aged miller, with two grandchildren, a
boy and a girl, were living in a dugout near the mill. The first they
knew of it, a stream of water was pouring in upon them. They succeeded,
however, in emerging from the trap, and climbing a near-by tree, where
they passed the night in terror. In the morning they waded to a high
spot on the mill-race, and none too soon, for both the tree they had
climbed, and the mill, were carried away. It was three days before the
water fell sufficiently for Ira Hatch and myself to wade across and
rescue them.

During the summer preceding the flood, the Clara Indian missionaries
had labored in the United Order. The northwest corner room of the fort
had been used by them for a granary. Here they had two hundred bushels
of wheat unsacked. It was agreed that all hands should assist in
carrying out the wheat; while I stood, lantern in hand, to signal any
danger from the encroaching flood. One hundred seventy-five bushels had
been saved, when I gave the alarm. The men came out at once: and ten
minutes later the room caved in.

We felt that we had done all that could be done; and the men being
nearly exhausted, and chilled to the bone, went to their homes. The
rope that was used at the gate had been taken down, coiled, and hung on
Samuel Knight's gate. Jacob Hamblin begged me to hold the light, while
he moved a pile of cord-wood, and said when that was done, he would go
and rest. He had moved about half of the pile, when a large block of
earth on which he stood, dropped into the flood.

I called for help. Joseph Knight ran to me, catching the rope in his
hand as he came. At the bank I held the light so that we might peer
into the seething waters below. So much earth had fallen that it pushed
the water back; and we saw Jacob clinging desperately to snapping
roots. Brother Knight rapidly made a noose and dropped it over his head
and shoulders. Hamblin then grabbed the rope, and we pulled him from
the jaws of death; for no man could have lived long in that torrent of
mud and water.

During the damp and rainy weather that accompanied the flood, our
little son, John T., took the croup, and after several days of terrible
suffering, died. This was our first life sorrow, and the blow was a
heavy one.

The old fort and town having been washed away, a new town was laid out
under the direction of Apostle Erastus Snow. I secured a city lot, and
some farm land, and went to work again.

In the spring of 1862 I was called by the bishop of the Clara ward to
drive an ox team to Omaha on the Missouri river, to get some cotton
gins and spinning jennies for the benefit of the ward. Leaving my
family camped in a tent, I responded to the call, driving my own team,
and crossing the plains in John R. Murdock's train.

At Omaha I found my Brother Joseph W., who had charge of the Church
immigration, lying at the point of death. He had been knocked down by
lightning, and nearly crushed to death by baled wagon beds that were
blown upon him during the terrible storm. Under the blessing of God,
and with careful nursing, his life was preserved. For three weeks I
aided in purchasing teams for the immigrants, and brought up the rear
end of that year's emigration. After all our companies had started
back, I received orders, by telegram from President Young, to buy more
teams and wagons and to clear out the Church warehouse at Florence.

On the 17th of August I started for Salt Lake with twenty-two wagons
and teams, but only ten teamsters; and we traveled one hundred miles
before I got additional help. On Elm Creek, while on the move, we were
charged by a stampeded herd of buffalo, estimated at three thousand
head. It was with great difficulty that we turned them aside, and kept
the train from being run over and trampled to pieces.

During the combat, one of my night guard was dismounted, and his mule,
a fine animal, ran off with the buffalo. As soon as the train was safe,
a young man by the name of Stewart, and I, followed the herd, stampeded
them again, and riding into the heaving, rolling mass, secured the
mule, and also succeeded in cutting out three oxen and a cow that we
found running with them. Two of the oxen were large, fine fellows, and
were very helpful in my team. Upon reaching Salt Lake City, I gave them
to Bishop Hunter, as a donation to the Perpetual Emigration fund, and
they were used for years on the Temple Block, to move the blocks of
granite that were placed in the Temple walls.

Near Fort Laramie we overtook Captain William H. Dame's train of fifty
wagons. As he was prostrate with mountain fever, we blended the trains,
and I took charge of them until we reached Fort Bridger.

When I reached Salt Lake City, President Young gave me a beautiful
Canadian mare, which the Church had furnished me to use on the plains;
and he gave me, moreover, his blessing as a reward for my services.

At Provo, I found my wife Lydia with a sweet babe--Lydia Roseana--in
her arms. I gave Mother Knight a cooking stove for her kindness to me
and mine. Jesse, my wife Lydia's brother, wished to go to the Clara;
so I employed him to drive my ox team, for which service I gave him a
French pony, valued at seventy-five dollars. He was a noble boy, and I
always loved him. It was late in the fall when I returned to the Clara
with the machinery I started for. In six months' time I had traveled
twenty-eight hundred miles with my four yoke of oxen.

I found Albina and babe well, but still living--and without a
murmur--in a tent.

In 1863, I was called by Bishop Edward Bunker of the Clara Ward, to
go to the states and help gather the poor. I had charge of ten teams
from that ward. I drove my own team of four yoke of oxen. On the trip
eastward we made part of Daniel D. McArthur's train. At Florence I
was appointed captain of an independent Danish company of forty-four
wagons. On the return trip we had several stampedes, in one of which
two women and one man were killed. With that exception we were greatly
prospered. I became very much attached to the Danish people. My
brother, Lorenzo S., was with me, and was of great help to me. Jeremiah
Stringham and family joined the company, and I learned to love him for
his courage and fidelity.

Upon my return to the Clara, I found my two wives living in a one-room
adobe house that my brother-in-law, Samuel Knight, had built for them.
In the fore part of the winter, William R. Terry (my father-in-law) and
I were requested by President Erastus Snow, to move to St. George. I
promptly set about the work; putting up a small hewn-log house, then
going to Pine Valley to make the shingles. While finishing the roof I
received a letter from President Young, calling me on a second mission
to the Sandwich Islands.

On March 20, 1864, I started to Salt Lake City to fill this mission.
I had been notified that I would need to raise four hundred fifty
dollars. I therefore sold my ox teams, and otherwise raised all the
money I could before starting. Albina and children went with me to
Draper, where I left her with her father. The weather was unusually
stormy, and the roads were bad. On March 31st we camped on Pioneer
creek, near Fillmore. For the first time in my life my children cried
for bread, when I had none to give them.

Early in the morning, however, Sister McFate, a widow, came along and
sold me five pounds of flour. At Round Valley brethren were owing me
twenty-five bushels of wheat; but I could not get a bushel, nor a
dollar in cash. Bishop Jesse Martin came to my rescue and generously
helped me out of his own pocket.

April 4, 1864, I stayed over night with Bishop William McBride, of
Santaquin. In the evening a heavy snow storm swept over the place; and
while we were in his home at supper, a pair of valuable Navajo blankets
were stolen from my wagon.

I immediately got out a search warrant, and early next morning, with
the constable, commenced search. Learning that a man had left town
before daylight, we followed him through Payson to Spanish Fork, where
we caught him with the blankets. He was tried, convicted, and fined
ninety dollars.

On Sunday, April 10, 1864, I reached Battle Creek, and visited my
brother-in-law, William Frampton. In the night my horses got out of the
stable and strayed off. I hunted four days for them, then gave them up.
Our friends took us to the city.

On Friday, April 22, 1864, forty-six missionaries met in the
historian's office and were set apart for their respective missions.

Apostle Wilford Woodruff blessed me as follows: "Brother John R.
Young, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by virtue of the Holy
Priesthood, we lay our hands upon your head and set you apart unto the
mission whereunto you have been called by the servants of our God; to
lift up your warning voice, to preach the Gospel to the children of men.

"We say, go in peace, bearing precious seed; go trusting in God. Call
upon Him day by day and night by night. Follow the dictates of the Holy
Spirit in this ministry and mission; and inasmuch as you will do this,
the blessings of the heavens will rest upon you. And you shall rejoice
before the Most High, because of the blessing that will be given unto
you in this mission, in bearing the responsibility with your brethren
in laboring to build up the kingdom of God, to warn the nations of the
earth, to search out the honest in heart wherever you may be sent, to
gather the people to Zion. We dedicate you unto God, and set you apart
for this great and glorious mission.

"You shall go forth in peace and be preserved upon the land and upon
the water. While the land is full of danger, and these dangers will
increase, trust in the Lord, and all will be well with you. You shall
do a good work, and bring many souls into the Kingdom of God; and you
shall increase in wisdom and the gifts of God.

"When your mission is ended you shall return in peace and joy to your
family and friends. We seal upon you every blessing you can desire in
righteousness, and ask our Heavenly Father to preserve you, to give his
angels charge concerning you, and enable you to do much good in your
day and generation. All these blessings, together with all you may need
and require, we confer upon you in the name of the Lord. Jesus Christ.
Amen."

Elder Benjamin Cluff was set apart to be my companion. Brothers Abram
Hatch, John T. Caine, F. A. Mitchell, Richard White, and Uncle Brigham
were liberal in helping me on this mission.

Chapter 17.

Miss Carmichael's Parting Words.--San Francisco.--Orson Pratt's
Prophecy. Sail for Hawaii.--Delivered From the Hands of a Wicked
Man.--Visit Walter M. Gibson.--View Kawaimanu.

Wednesday, April 27, 1864. I spent the day visiting my dear mother,
and passed the night beneath my father's hospitable roof. Miss S. E.
Carmichael wrote "A Parting Word to my Friend John R. Young:"

   My words are seldom strong, or bright,
     A woman's tones are low,
   And 'tis not much a hand so slight
     Can offer thee, I know,
   'Tis like the quivering breath that wakes
     Where forest leaves are stirred,
   Yet from a friend's true heart it takes
     To thee, a parting word,

REMEMBER.

   Remember--hope in thy sorrow,
     Remember--faith in thy prayer,
   Remember--the bright tomorrow
     That dawns on the night's despair,
   Remember--the hearts that love thee
     Are with thee--everywhere.
   Remember--the path of duty
     When other paths seem fair,
   Remember--the truth's white beauty
     When weak illusions glare.
   And should the world defy thee
     Alone its strength to dare,
   Remember--Heaven is nigh thee,
     Remember--God is there.

 A friend's kind thoughts attend thy way
   Where e'er that way may be,
 And so I make remember,
   A parting word to thee.

On April 28, in company with Elder Benjamin Cluff, I took stage for
Sacramento. We were six days and nights, jolting across the dusty,
rut cut deserts. At Austin and Egan mining camps, Nevada, hay was two
hundred dollars per ton and flour 18 cents per pound.

On May 4th we reached San Francisco, where we met Apostles Lorenzo Snow
and Ezra T. Benson, returning from the islands. They had cut Walter M.
Gibson off the Church, and appointed Joseph F. Smith president of the
mission.

I also met and spent six days with Apostle Orson Pratt. He was on his
way to Austria to introduce the Gospel to that nation. He telegraphed
to President Young to see if my mission could be changed, so that I
could accompany him. It was thought best, however, for me to continue
on to the islands.

Sunday, May 22, 1864, I accompanied Brother Pratt in a walk to the
summit of the high cliff west of the city. We found a secluded crevice
and knelt in prayer. He seemed oppressed in spirit, grieving perhaps,
over the infidelity of his son Orson. While he was talking, the
Spirit of the Lord came upon him; and he upbraided the inhabitants of
San Francisco, and prophesied that the city should be destroyed by
earthquake.

On Tuesday, May 24, 1864, we sailed second cabin on the bark Onward,
Hempstead, captain. Brother Cluff and I occupied one room with a
Missourian named McCarty, said to be suffering with consumption. He was
a large, raw-boned man, of a quarrelsome disposition.

One day Captain Hempstead invited us three to have seats on the upper
deck with the first-cabin passengers. The reason for this courtesy was
soon apparent. Among the cabin passengers were several ministers; and
they wanted a little diversion at the expense of the Mormon Elders.

A warm discussion ensued. It was asserted that the Mormons were driven
from Missouri and Illinois on account of their thieving and lawless
acts. In my defense I challenged the proof of a single dishonest deed,
and testified that Joseph and Hyrum were innocent, and that they were
murdered in cold blood.

Mr. McCarty became angry, and boasted that he helped kill Joseph and
Hyrum Smith. I told him then that by his own confession he was a
murderer, and that the curse of God was upon him. He would have struck
me, but the captain interfered, and made him behave.

About midnight of the 30th of May, I was awakened by McCarty. He was
sitting on a stool, in front of his bunk; the full moon shining through
the window giving him a white, ghastly appearance. He told me to get
up and get him a drink. I replied that the guard passed the door every
five minutes and would wait upon him.

He seized a butcher knife, sprang to his feet, and swore he would cut
the heart out of me. I was lying in the middle bunk, and had but little
room in which to move, and nothing with which to defend myself; but I
felt I would rather die than do his bidding. I therefore silently asked
God to deliver me from his power.

He took one step forward, threw up both hands, and fell backwards.
I sprang from the bunk, and raised his head, but the man was dead.
Brother Cluff called the guard, who soon brought the captain and the
doctor. The latter said he died of heart failure.

In the morning they sewed him up in a canvas, a cannon ball at his
feet. I stood by the taff rail, and saw the body slide off the plank;
and as I watched it sink into the depths of the ocean, I rejoiced that
I had borne a faithful testimony of God's martyred prophets, and was
truly grateful that I had been delivered from the hands of a wicked man.

At Honolulu, where we arrived June 10th, we were warmly welcomed by
Elders Joseph F. Smith, William W. Cluff, and the native Saints. In
council it was decided that I should visit Mr. Gibson on Lanai, and
if possible, recover some Church property that he had possession of,
then join Elder A. L. Smith on Maui, and with him visit the Saints and
reorganize the branches of the Church on Maui and Hawaii.

On the 14th of June, I wrote my Brother Franklin W., as follows: "I am
waiting for a vessel to Lahaina. My first labor will be to visit Mr.
Gibson, and try to get back several hundred Books of Mormon that he
got possession of when he first came. He has proved to be a deceitful
though shrewd and capable man, possessed of one absorbing idea, that of
founding an empire of the Pacific Islands. For that purpose he joined
the Church, asked for a mission, and commenced at once his empire
building.

"To raise money, he made merchandise of the Priesthood. Under his
"dispensation," he ordained all the Saints, both men and women. To be
an apostle cost one hundred dollars, a deacon, five dollars. He sold
our meetinghouses, making Lanai the only place where the word of the
Lord could be given to the people.

"Clothed in his temple robes, he publicly laid the foundation of a
temple, using for the chief corner stone, a huge boulder that had drunk
the blood of many a victim, sacrificed by the idol worshipers of Lanai.
He then covered the stone with brush and tabooed it, giving out that if
anyone uncovered it, he would be smitten with death.

"While Apostles Snow and Benson were laboring with Gibson, trying to
bring him to repentance. Elders Joseph F. and Alma L. Smith, W. W.
Cluff, and Talula, Mr. Gibson's daughter, visited the temple site; and
Brother Cluff, with impious hands, pulled the brush away, and left the
"Consecrated" slaughter rock exposed to rain and sun.

"Mr. Gibson had used the old heathen Hale Pule site for the purpose
of working upon the superstitions of the islanders. In their fear he
had enshrined himself as a god. Coming into his presence they would
prostrate themselves in the dust of the earth, and await his bidding to
arise.

"But now in a moment, all his power had been swept away. From their
doors they had seen Elder Cluff _desecrate the tabooed stone_, and
return to them unharmed. The charm was broken. Mr. Gibson was cut off
the Church, and his Polynesian empire soon dissolved. From this on, he
will be a crownless king, without a kingdom."

From Lahaina I crossed to Lanai in a whale boat. I stayed a week
with Mr. Gibson. He surrendered to me five hundred Books of Mormon,
his temple clothes, and a watch that my father had given to him. I
recrossed the channel to Maui--as usual in a whale boat--and found
Elder A. L. Smith anxious to learn the success of my mission.

While waiting for dinner, I wrote:

Lines to Albina.

   This little card on which is traced
     The image of a lovely rose,
   Was given me, by one who shared
     My brightest joys, my deepest woes.
   It is to me a priceless gem,
     A token dearly prized,
   As emblematic of the life
     Of one I idolize.

   I'll place it with my choicest books,
     There shall it linger long
   To mark the place where I may look
     On a favorite author's song.
   And when bright words and noble thoughts
     Kindle my soul aglow,
   I'll think of my wife, as I gaze on the rose
     That is traced on the card below.

   Very dear to me, are the little gifts
     That richer men oft spurn.
   They speak to me of the honest love
     A humble life may earn.
   I will gather them up as flowers that bloom
     Beside the pathway of life;
   Leaves of affection, wafted from home,
     And kissed by the breath of a wife.

On June 28, 1864, we sailed on the schooner Kilauea for Hawaii. On
the 30th, we arrived at Kapaliuka and were warmly welcomed by Brother
Kanaha and his wife Nakiaielua. I have taken much interest in this
family, on account of their strength of character. When Gibson came,
Kanaha had no faith in him, and refused to gather to Lanai, or to deed
his home to him. For these sins he was cut off the Church. But he
continued to hold meetings and kept his little flock together until we
came.

When the old man met us, he wept with joy; and we were equally rejoiced
to see his integrity and manhood. This branch has been replete with
interesting incidents. Here, during our first coming, Elder Hawkins had
been shamefully mobbed. Here Ward E. Pack, cast the devil out of two
Catholic priests who had incited natives to mob him. The act of casting
out had greatly amused the Kanakas.

Monday, July 25, 1864, at Waipio. We started on foot for Kawaimanu
(flying water), a secluded mountain village, seldom visited by white
men, a very fertile glade fifteen miles north of Waipio. We had to
climb a pali two thousand feet in height: a solid rock wall almost
perpendicular. When about half way to the top, we stepped to the side
of the narrow trail and looked down on the sea that washed the rock
below us. The sight made my head dizzy, and I hurriedly drew back. Our
path led over the mountain, near some celebrated waterfalls. I wrote:

   Our meal of poi, pakai, and shrimps,
     In silence we partake,
   Then with a guide to lead the way,
     The mountain path we take,
   Narrow and winding in its course,
     And difficult to find.
   The vale below is growing small,
     As upward still we climb.
   And now great drops of sweat appear
     Upon the traveler's brow;
   Reminding me of summer days
     When following the plow.

   Surprised, we meet a mountain maid,
     Wild, Indian-like, and free;
   Around her waist a shirt is tied--
     The custom here, you see.
   She meets us with a smiling face--
     "Which way, strangers?" asked she.
   "We're going to Kawaimanu,
     The waterfalls to see."

   Breathless we reach the mountain crest,
     Where dark winged clouds oft fly;
   And seldom can the traveler pass
     And keep his jacket dry.
   The natives call it "Pele's tears"--
     Full often doth she weep,
   Till torrents gushing from her eyes
     Roll thundering down the steeps.

   For "Pele's" home--at Kilauea,
     In a burning lake of fire,
   Where demons wild, in hideous form,
     Are ever hovering nigh her.
   But why she weeps, they cannot tell;
     Unless to quench her fever,
   Or else to drown the mystic yells
     Of fiends who never leave her.

   Through forests dense our guide doth lead,
     And vales of tangled fern,
   So green that Neibaur's match receipt
     Would fail to make them burn.
   The clouds are dark'ning o'er our heads;
     And yonder on our right,
   The craggy peaks in vapors black
     Are hidden from our sight.

   Hurrah, we see the waterfall--
     Three thousand feet or more
   From cliff to cliff three noble streams
     Their foaming waters pour.
   They're leaping from the battling clouds
     That clothe in darkness now,
   The storm-scarred cliffs, and snow-crowned peaks
     Of Mauna Keas brow.
   In foaming sheets, the cloud streams leap,
     Sending back roar for roar,
   In answer to the deafening crash
     That peals from ocean's shore.

   The music of the universe
     Is never silent here--
   By day or night the sea surf's song
     Rings in the peasant's ear.
   And when I wake, and gaze upon
     The authors of that song,
   I see the ocean's vast expanse;
     The mountains bulwark strong.
   For endless ages they have stood:
     Eternities to come,
   May listen to Waimanus flood,
     And the ocean's ceaseless song.

After crossing twelve deep canyons and descending a pali half a mile in
height, we reached the village and were kindly entertained by the few
Saints who reside here. We held three meetings, baptized three persons,
and organized a branch of the Church. We remained one month on Hawaii,
visiting the Saints and organizing branches to the best of our ability.

On the .5th of August we sailed for Maui, and landed on the 6th at
Malia. Here we met President Joseph F. Smith, who in those days, as
now, was always active, and thoughtful for others. He met us on the
beach with horses, and a hearty welcome. A two hours' ride brought us
to Waialuku, where I received several home letters. The cheerfulness of
my family was a comfort to me. As the gentle dews of heaven give life,
beauty, and freshness to the flowers of the field, so good news from
loved ones cheers, animates, and strengthens my heart, fills my bosom
with joy, and makes me a happier, and I hope, a better man.

Chapter 18.

Conference at Wailuku.--Return to Honolulu.--Sail for Home.--Man
Overboard.

On Sunday, August 14, 1864, a conference was held at Wailuku,
with sixty members present. Arrangements were made to build a new
meetinghouse, Gibson having sold the old one which was built ten years
ago.

President Joseph F. Smith testified that the Saints, in following Mr.
Gibson's teaching, had departed from the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and
had become darkened in their minds. "As soon as you manifest works
meet for repentance," said he, "we will let you renew your covenants
by baptism, and then we will place upon you the responsibility of
preaching the Gospel to this nation."

Monday, August 15, 1864. I had the pleasure of accompanying President
Smith on a visit to Elder George Raymond at Waihu. After dinner,
we rode up to the mountain, following a deep canyon, until we came
to a beautiful orange grove, the property of George Raymond. The
native brethren asked President Smith to rebaptize them. The request
was granted, and I went into the water, a pure mountain stream, and
baptized Kanahunahupu, George Raymond, and Kapule, three intelligent
and staunch defenders of the Gospel. We next confirmed and blessed them.

On the 25th, I accompanied President Smith to Lahaina and visited
His Excellency, Governor Kauwahi. He was once an active elder in the
Church, and aided President George Q. Cannon in translating the Book
of Mormon. On the 26th President Smith sailed for Honolulu. Alma L.
Smith went to East Maui, while I labored in the vicinity of Lahaina. On
Saturday, Sister Mary Kou, my makau honi, (adopted mother) was thrown
from a horse and seriously injured. I administered to her, and she was
instantly healed.

On Sunday, September 4, 1864, I received a letter from my brother
Franklin W., enclosing a twenty dollar greenback, for which I was very
thankful. Brother Alma L. Smith returned from East Maui. We labored
together, visiting the Saints, earnestly desiring their welfare.
We were diligent, holding many meetings, bearing testimonies, and
administering to the sick.

By letter from President Smith, we were instructed to arrange our
labors so as to visit Honolulu about the 25th of this month. Friday,
September 23rd, we sailed for that city on the steamer Kilauea, deck
passage, reaching there on the 24th. We were kindly, received by
President Joseph F. Smith and William W. Cluff.

September 30th we held a council meeting. A letter from President Young
was read, suggesting that Elders Joseph F. Smith, William W. Cluff,
and Alma L. Smith return home, and that John R. Young preside over the
mission, assisted by Benjamin Cluff.

At this time my family was residing at St. George, and their destitute
condition preyed upon my mind.

In associating with the brethren, I had read my home letters to them.
The spirit of these letters, cheerful and self-sacrificing under severe
trials, enlisted the sympathy of the brethren; and it was decided in
council that I should return home. Therefore, on Wednesday, October 12,
1864, in company with Joseph F. Smith, William W. Cluff, and Sister
Albion Burnham and three children, I sailed on the bark Onward for San
Francisco.

Sister Burnham was the widow of George Albion Burnham, who had received
the Gospel during the opening of the mission by President George Q.
Cannon and his co-laborers. Brother Burnham had been valiant in defense
of the Elders. At a period of cruel persecution in Honolulu; and his
manly battle in rescuing Phillip B. Lewis and William Farrar from the
hands of a drunken mob, endeared him and his family to the Elders of
the Hawaiian mission. On our second mission we found the widow in the
depths of poverty, and resolved, on our release, to take the family
home with us. To this end, President Smith gave me fifty dollars from
the Salt Lake mission fund to aid in gathering Sister Burnham.

On Saturday, October 15th we were still in sight of land, about eighty
miles north of Oahu: no wind, a calm sea, and a full moon making a
beautiful evening. At ten p.m., I was sitting on deck talking with the
mate, Mr. Ferrier, when I noticed that the man on the forward watch
acted strangely. I said to the mate, "That man wants to jump overboard."

In a few minutes I went to my room, and had just taken off my shoes
when I heard the mate call, "A man overboard!" I ran on deck, seized a
rope, and threw it to the man, striking him on the head. He looked at
me, and swam from the ship. I ran up the rigging, and watched him until
a boat was lowered. Then I gave directions to the captain, and he with
a speaking trumpet, directed the crew, until they picked him up. The
man's name was Barstowe. The next morning Mr. Ferrier harpooned two
sharks, one of them over eleven feet long--not a very pleasant prospect
for a would-be suicide.

Our passage was long and tedious, owing to the many calms that overtook
us; yet on November 4th it became evident that we were nearing land;
for the water had lost its clear blue color, and was becoming black and
filthy. That day we saw a school of porpoises, rushing to and fro as if
frightened, and casting up a wall of white spray as far north as the
eye could see. We also saw several whales. It is a novel sight--these
huge monsters sporting in the mighty deep, lashing the waves with their
fan-shaped tails, and spouting columns of water high into the air!

At noon the wind sprang up from the north, and steadily increased until
at nine p.m. it blew a gale. The sea became very rough, the waves
dashing over the cabin deck in great violence, and causing dishes and
boxes to be rolled in confusion over the cabin floor. At midnight
the storm suddenly ceased, and we could hear the waves breaking on a
distant shore. The captain sounded, and finding we were in shoal water,
cast anchor and waited for daylight.

On Saturday, November 5, 1864, at six a.m., a heavy fog was hanging
over us. We could hear bells ringing, and see several red lights. At
nine o'clock the fog lifted, and I counted twenty ships anchored near
us. At ten, a light wind from the north enabled the fleet to pass
through the Golden Gate into a beautiful bay; and at three p.m. we lay
along side the wharf at San Francisco.

As heretofore, we found a warm welcome at Brother Dwight Eveleth's
home. In the evening, I witnessed for the first time, a political
torch-light procession. It was said forty thousand people were on the
street rejoicing at Abraham Lincoln's re-election. Soon after our
arrival, President Young telegraphed us to wait until the 20th. In the
meanwhile I crossed the bay to visit the Honorable John M. Horner, to
me a wonderful man.

Mr. Horner told me that when he was a boy Joseph the Prophet, and
Oliver Cowdery had called on the Horner family. John M. wanted to visit
with the young prophet; but his father insisted that he finish hoeing a
piece of corn given him as a stint. Joseph, on learning of it, took off
his coat, asked for a hoe, and helped finish the task. The sequel: John
M. Horner was baptized by Oliver Cowdery, and confirmed and blessed
by Joseph Smith, who predicted that the earth should yield abundantly
at Brother Horner's behest. In California, Brother Horner at one time
paid a tithe of twenty thousand dollars, the fruit of agriculture.
Contemplating this remarkable piece of history, I wrote a poem, "The
Young Men's Pledge," which is published in the appendix of this volume.

On the 10th of November, having returned to San Francisco, I learned
from Sister Margaret Curtis of Salt Lake--with the aid of her
models--to cut dresses; and while selling models, I did considerable
missionary work. As a new departure, Elder Cluff and I visited an
organized community of harlots, taking tea with them, and holding a
meeting. I spoke with great freedom, assuring my fallen sisters that
the Gospel of Jesus Christ would correct all the evils of society,
giving honorable companionship and lawful motherhood to every
intelligent woman in the world.

On Sunday, November 20, 1864, I met Elders Francis A. Hammond and
George Nebeker direct from Salt Lake City on their way to the islands,
to select and purchase a gathering place for the Hawaiian Saints. It
seemed a wise movement, and I hoped it would prosper. In council, it
was arranged for Elder Joseph F. Smith and William W. Cluff to go home
by stage, while I took their baggage, and Sister Burnham and children,
and worked my way home by way of San Bernardino.

On Wednesday November 23rd. we sailed on the bark J. B. Ford, under
Captain Knife, for San Pedro. We encountered heavy storms, and were
nine days making a four-day voyage. On the 26th, I was afflicted with
severe pain in my back and left side. After I had suffered twelve
hours, the disease settled in my bowels, and brought on vomiting and
cramping. For three days I took large doses of laudanum, and poulticed
my body with mustard.

I finally lost my speech, but knew everything going on around me. I
heard the captain tell the steward to have the canvas and cannon ball
ready, so they could bury me without delay. It grieved me to die away
from home, and I prayed earnestly that T might live.

When they went out of my room, an elderly person, dressed in home-made
clothes, came in. He knelt down by me, and, placing his hands upon my
head, blessed me. I went to sleep, and when I awoke, it was morning.
I dressed, and went on deck, to the surprise of the captain. I have
always believed that the person who visited me was my Grandfather
Young, and that his administration preserved my life.

On Saturday, December 2nd, we landed at Wilmington, near San Pedro.
I gave Mr. Pedro a freighter, twenty dollars to haul us to San
Bernardino, where we arrived on December 5th. Here we were kindly cared
for by Brother and Sister Kelting. After resting a few days I hired
a room for Sister Burnham, while I found a home with the family of
Colonel Alden A. M. Jackson.

Toward spring George Garner went to Utah with several loads of honey.
I persuaded him to haul Sister Burnham and children to my home in St.
George, and Brother Smith's and Cluff's baggage to Payson. Through my
efforts Brother Jackson caught the spirit of gathering, purchased two
teams, and Sister Jackson and two daughters moved to St. George. I
drove one of the teams for my passage home.

Needless to say, my return was a pleasant surprise to my family. The
people in Dixie were having a hard struggle. Flour was twenty-five
dollars a hundred; my family had only a week's provisions in the house,
and where the next would come from they did not know. For months they
had been without fire-wood, save as they went to the hills, grubbed up
brush and carried it home.

I applied at the tithing office at St. George for provisions for Sister
Burnham, but they did not have it. I then got a team and moved Sister
Burnham and family to Parowan, where Bishop Wilham H. Dame cheerfully
undertook to care for them. Returning to St. George, I went to work to
support my family; but I had scarcely time to put in a few acres of
wheat before I was called to serve in a military capacity.

The Black Hawk war was spreading terror among our southeastern frontier
settlements, causing many of them to be abandoned. I enrolled in
Captain Willis Copeland's company of scouts, and was elected first
lieutenant. I aided Colonel J. L. Peirce in moving the settlers from
Long Valley and Kanab. As soon as that task was accomplished, I was
called to labor among the Indians, and spent the summer with Jacob
Hamblin and John Mangum in cultivating friendly relations with the
Kaibab tribes.

During the winter of 1866, with Jacob Hamblin, Ira Hatch, Thales
Haskel, and others, I visited the Moqui Indians. The trip was fraught
with hardship and danger, as the Navajos were on the warpath. On our
return trip, we crossed the Colorado on a flood-wood raft. There were
forty-seven men in the company, and we had to make five trips, which
took all day. I worked from morning till night on the raft, my feet in
the cold water and my body perspiring from exertion.

That night I was seized with cramping colic. In the morning we had to
move on, as we were out of provisions. It hurt me to ride on horseback,
but I had to do so or be left to die. At Kanab they found the running
gears of an old wagon. On this they put two poles, and swung me in a
hammock between them; then making harness of ropes, they hauled me to
Washington, my home.

They had given me twenty-two pills and a pint of castor oil; and I
carried that load in my stomach nine days without relief.

Doctors Israel Ivins and Silas G. Higgins came from St. George five
days in succession, then gave me up. Bishop Covington, a dear friend,
came and dedicated me, that I might die without further suffering. But
my wife Albina would not relinquish me. She sent for a humble elder,
Albert Tyler, and when he came, they two administered to me, and I was
instantly healed. For some time I had been unconscious, but I awoke, as
it were, from a dream. I wanted to get up, but my wife, with tears of
joy, persuaded me to rest until morning. Then I dressed, and rode in a
lumber wagon to St. George, to attend the Stake conference.

On November 9, 1867, I was ordained a high priest, and set apart to
act as a high councilor in the St. George Stake, by Apostle Erastus
Snow, who had been ordained an apostle by Brigham Young, who had been
ordained an apostle by Joseph Smith and the three witnesses on February
14, 1835. Joseph Smith was ordained an apostle by Peter, James and
John, and they were ordained apostles by the Son of God Himself.

In 1867 I went to Pine Valley and drove five yoke of oxen as a logging
team for Bishop Robert Gardner. In 1868 I rented Eli Whipple's saw
mill. Soon after, on attending conference at St. George, I was called
to the stand by President Young, who gave me a seat by his side,
talked kindly to me, made many inquiries in regard to my financial
circumstances, advised me not to work in the saw mill, as I was not
strong enough for that kind of labor, and said if I would move to
Washington, he would give me labor in the factory he was building.

I returned to Pine Valley, made settlement with Brother Whipple, and
was released from the mill. I next sold my little farm on the Clara for
six hundred dollars, and moved to Washington, where I labored three
years in the cotton factory at good wages.

On the 30th of May, 1868, William R. Terry, my wife Albina's father,
died at St. George. He had ever been a help to me. When I was on
missions he farmed my land, and cared for my family as if they were
his own. In his death, I lost one of my best counselors and my truest
friend.

In the meantime, my Brother Joseph W. had been appointed president
of the St. George Stake. I was sincerely attached to him, and his
counsel had great weight with me. By his request, I took my families,
Albina and Tamar, to the Pipe Spring Ranch, near Kanab, and boarded
the workmen who were building Windsor Fort. When that building was
erected, Joseph W. desired me to make a home at Kanab. At first I felt
reluctant to do so for I had built a large rock house at Washington,
just west of the cotton factory. It was a pleasant situation. My family
was beginning to be comfortable, our vineyard was bearing fruit, and I
dreaded to break up and begin pioneer life again.

While in this state of mind, my cousins Joseph A., and Brigham Young,
and Ferra M. Little visited our southern settlements. It was decided
to make a trip to Kanab. Ferra M. and James A. Little, Joseph A. and
Brigham Young, Joseph W. and John R. Young--brothers in pairs and all
cousins--comprised the party. The climate and soil of Kanab being
adapted for fruit, and there being excellent facilities for stock
raising, the town gave promise of becoming a place of considerable
importance. Accordingly Joseph W., Joseph A., Ferra and James A.
secured city lots, and I also yielded to the influence. Having secured
a building spot, I immediately moved to Kanab, fenced four lots and
planted a vineyard.

About this time the line between Utah and Nevada was surveyed, and the
settlements on the Muddy proved to be in Nevada. The Nevada assessor at
once visited our settlements and required the people to pay the back
taxes for the five years they had been there.

President Young promptly advised breaking up the settlements rather
than pay the unjust tax. I sent a four-horse team to assist the Saints
in moving away. Many of them, who still had homes in Utah, were
counseled to return to them; those not so fortunate were advised to
make homes in Long Valley. Being called to go to Long Valley to assist
Joseph W., I sold my home at Washington for eighteen hundred dollars,
and invested in a saw mill, and a ranch near it.

In the spring of 1873, my Brother Joseph W., with a company of
brethren, was working a road over the "Devil's Backbone," near Lee's
ferry, Arizona, when he received a partial sunstroke, from which he
never fully recovered. He was further prostrated by overwork, taking
stock and branding cattle at the church Pipe Spring ranch. Being
conveyed to his home at St. George, he was tenderly nursed by his
family and friends. He suffered much, and became very weak in body; but
his mind remained clear and active to the end.

My brother was superintendent of the building of the St. George temple,
and felt great anxiety in regard to that work. The telegrams I received
of his condition at length alarmed me. Saddling my horse, and being
accompanied by my father-in-law, W. M. Black, I went to St. George, and
stayed with him thereafter until he died.

On meeting me, he rejoiced, saying I had saved his life at Florence;
and if it could be done, I would save it again. In private, he told me
that a messenger had visited him and told him that his name had been
presented before a council of the priesthood behind the veil; that a
man of experience, of integrity, and of purity of life was wanted for
the ministry in the Spirit World; that he (Joseph) had one blemish. He
had not strictly kept the Word of Wisdom as he had always used tea. He
then expressed a wish to be carried to Salt Lake City before he died.

I consulted President Alexander F. McDonald, and Doctor Higgins. The
former advised me to be careful and not do anything I should regret in
after life. Doctor Higgins said that if he was moved it would kill him.
I told Joseph what these brethren said. He took hold of my hand and
replied,

"Johnny, I know what I am doing, and while I live I shall preside. Will
you carry out my wishes, or must I get someone else to serve me?"

I promised to do all that he wished me to do. He then gave minute
directions how to fix his wagon and how to arrange a spring bed for
him to ride on. I proposed to make a litter and have brethren from
the different settlements carry him by relays, but he over-ruled me.
Everything was consequently done as he desired.

The first day we moved him to Washington, and he stood the ride well.
The next day, while crossing the Harrisburg bench, we encountered a hot
wind, which seemed to smother him. I saw that he was failing, and asked
if we should turn back. He raised his head, looked around and said no,
but to drive on as long as he lived. In due time we reached Harrisburg,
and camped under some large shade trees.

Here President Alexander F. McDonald and David H. Cannon drove up in a
buggy. Brother McDonald went to Joseph and spoke about some dispatches
he had just received from Arizona while I went to care for the team.
In a few minutes Brother McDonald called me, and I saw that Joseph was
dying. I raised him a little and held him in my arms. He motioned for
his wife Lurana to come, and having embraced her, put her gently away,
and took hold of my hand. His mind now began to wander. "Brethren," he
said, "be careful on that temple wall, and don't let the chisel fall."

These were the last words of Joseph W. Young. We returned to St.
George, and all the people mourned. I telegraphed for his wife Julia
and Sister Harriet, who traveled by team a hundred miles, through the
heat, sand, and dust, to get one last look at the loved one's remains.

His death occurred on June 7, 1873. John W. Young was appointed his
successor in the presidency of the St. George Stake.

Chapter 19.

United Order.--Indian Troubles.--Mission to England.

In the winter of 1873 and 1874 President Young visited Dixie, and
taught the people the principles of the United Order. I received a
letter from him requesting me to meet him at Rockville. I took my
son Ferra, then a lad of eight years, and crossed the mountain on
horseback. The snow was three feet deep on the divide, and the weather
stormy. In fact, we faced a blizzard for eight hours. When we reached
Rockville, the afternoon meeting was in session, the house being
packed, and people standing in the aisles. President Young, having
called me to the stand, and there being no room to pass, the brethren
lifted me up and I walked forward from shoulder to shoulder.

The interest in the president's message was intense, and the awakening
general in the south. I attended ten meetings and listened to the
prophet at every one of them. How great was my joy! I felt that an era
of prosperity and happiness had dawned upon the Saints. How pointed and
rich were the instructions! "Give your hearts to God." "Do unto others
as you would have others do unto you." "The way the world does business
is a sin before God." "If you are not one in temporal things, how can
you be one in spiritual things?"

All these utterances, it seemed to me, pointed to the happy time when
there would be no poor in Zion, and the idler should not eat the bread
of the laborer. I received a written appointment, signed by Brigham
Young and George A. Smith, authorizing and instructing me to visit
our southeastern frontier settlements and organize them into working
companies in the United Order; the object being to enable them to
become self-sustaining by encouraging home production.

With Bishop Levi Stewart I visited and organized the Pahreah branch.
I also organized working companies at Glendale and Mt. Carmel in Long
Valley. I was sustained as president of the working companies in Kanab,
while Levi Stewart was sustained as bishop of the ward. This was wrong
in principle, and led to division, retarding the growth of the ward.

In the winter of 1874, four Navajos, the sons of a chief, were on a
visit to the Utes. On the return trip, as they were camped one morning
in a deserted house in Circle Valley, they were set upon by some
stockmen, led by Mr. McCarty, and three of the Indians were killed.
The fourth one was severely wounded, an ounce ball having passed
clear through his body, just below the shoulder blades; yet he lived,
traveled one hundred miles over mountains and deep snow, swam the
Colorado river, reached his home, and told his story.

The Navajos believed the Mormons to be the perpetrators of this cruel
tragedy. Two Mormon families and a few Indian missionaries were living
at the Moancopy and Mawaby. Peokon, a war chief, visited these and
demanded two hundred head of cattle as pay for their murdered sons, and
thirty days was given in which to get the stock.

John L. Blythe and Ira Hatch dispatched the word to Bishop Stewart
and me, and we telegraphed it to President Young. Upon receipt of the
message, John W. Young telegraphed for me to raise a company of men
and bring the families and all the missionaries to this side of the
Colorado river, and leave the Navajos alone until they should learn who
their friends are.

Andrew S. Gibbons of Glendale, Thomas Chamberlain of Mt. Carmel, and
Frank Hamblin of Kanab, with six men each, responded promptly to the
call. We reached the Moancopy two days before the time set by the
Navajos to make their onslaught. I found my task a hard and delicate
one. Jacob Hamblin and John L. Blythe were older and more experienced
in frontier life than I. Each of them, moreover, was presiding in some
capacity over that particular mission, and so they were reluctant to
yield to my counsel and suggestions. I have always felt thankful to
Frank Hamblin and Ira Hatch; for, by reason of the loyal manner in
which they supported me, the task was accomplished without loss or
accident of any kind. This was my last labor in Indian matters.

In 1876 Bishop Stewart and I were released from our positions, and
L. John Nuttall of Provo was sent to preside. I was disheartened at
the way things had gone, and believing that my days of usefulness at
Kanab was ended, I returned to Long Valley, and associated myself
with Orderville United Order. In this community I formed valued
acquaintances and cherished friendships.

The people were poor, humble, and prayerful, and therefore fruitful in
faith and good works. Had President Brigham Young lived, the history of
that community would have been different. For the good I witnessed I
have words of praise; for the faults, only charity and silence.

The problems of cooperative labor, equal wages, and boardinghouse
economy were not fairly tested; the future may give these questions a
test under more favorable conditions. The fact is that in the death of
Brigham Young, Orderville lost its guiding star and pilot.

In the spring of 1877 I was called on a mission to England. The health
of my family was not good, and I felt sad at leaving them; but I
responded to the call, trusting that the sacrifice would bring its
blessing.

On the 20th of April I started for England, in company with Elder
Samuel Claridge. We left home in a snow storm. The brethren of
Orderville, having given me a pair of carriage horses, I sold them
to my Brother William G. and thereby purchased a good outfit. Our
company of missionaries traveled in care of Apostle Joseph F. Smith,
going by rail to New York, then by cabin passage, first-class steamer,
to Liverpool. The journey both by land and sea was pleasant and
interesting.

Upon reaching England, I was appointed to labor in Wales, under the
presidency of Samuel Leigh. He was ever kind and fatherly to me. On
July 3, 1877, in company with Elder Joseph W. Taylor, I spent the day
down in the Dyfern coal mine. The pit is seven hundred feet deep and
employs four hundred fifty hands--men, boys, and women.

It has a thirty-horse-power steam engine, and forty-two horses down in
the pit. The property is worth one million dollars.

While in the mine we were joined by the government mine inspector from
London. He was curious to hear a Mormon elder preach, and prevailed
upon the superintendent to signal the miners together, and devote an
hour to a meeting.

I spoke forty minutes on the first principles of the Gospel, and its
restoration. I found the Welsh people warm-hearted and excitable. The
history of the Welsh Saints abounds in incidents of marvelous healings
and spiritual manifestations of God's power.

August 31st I visited Tredagar, and held meeting in St. George's Hall.
I preached to a large gathering of people, and two native elders
followed me, bearing powerful testimonies. On September 1st I walked to
Merthyr and received the following telegram:

"John R. Young: President Brigham Young died yesterday, August 29th,
at four p.m., of inflammation of the bowels, superinduced by cholera
morbus. Received cablegram this morning.--Signed Joseph F. Smith."

On Sunday, September 2, 1877, our meeting was well attended by Saints
from the neighboring branches. Elders Leigh, Rowland, Joseph W. Taylor,
Walter J. Lewis, and Thomas F. Howells from Utah were present. The news
of President Young's death had spread, causing this gathering. The
meetings were addressed by all the valley elders.

The Spirit of the Lord was poured out upon us; and many comforting
words were spoken. I bore testimony of the purity and prophetic power
of Brigham Young's life, and the Saints returned home, strengthened in
their faith and determination to serve God.

I labored four months in Wales, and formed many pleasant acquaintances;
but it would be unjust to name a few, when all were so kind to me.
I walked eight hundred miles, preached seventy times, and wrote
forty-five letters. I was satisfied with my work; I had been humble,
faithful, and diligent; the result I left with my Heavenly Father.

Chapter 20.

Transferred to the Bristol Conference.--A Remarkable Woman.--My Views
of Celestial Marriage.

On Monday, October 1, 1877, I bade goodbye to Elder Joseph H.
Parry--who had succeeded Samuel Leigh as president of the Welsh
Conference--and to Walter J. Lewis, and the Saints of Cardiff, and went
to Bristol, where I was kindly received by President Daniel Jacobs. And
now comes a repetition of my experience in Wales. Day after day, with
carpet sack in hand, I walked alone; talking by the wayside, preaching
whenever opportunity presented in churches, or in the open air, and yet
we seemed to accomplish but little good.

On October 12th, in company with President Jacobs, I visited
Cheltenham. This is a beautiful city: broad, clean streets, elegant
dwellings, and beautiful grounds. We lodged with Brother James Bishop.
I became very much attached to this family. On October 17th, we walked
ten miles to Clifford Mesne, visited John Wadley, brother of William
Wadley of Pleasant Grove, Utah. In the evening we visited father and
mother Wadley, and stayed over night with them.

October 18th, we walked ten miles over a hilly, well-timbered country,
and crossed over Maiden Hill, said to be the highest mountain in
England; visited Sister Martha Burris, at Little Dean Hill. This sister
has long been a member of the Church, and keeps an open house for our
Elders, and has done so for the past 20 years, yet her husband and only
son are not in the Church.

I received letters from Howard O. Spencer and Samuel Claridge. October
27th, we visited Father Lerwell of East Down, South Molten, Devonshire.
He is an independent farmer, and has a good home. He made us welcome,
and we stayed two weeks, holding evening and Sabbath meetings in
his large kitchen. It was a good time. I wrote a letter to Thomas
Robertson, from which I copy:

 I have traveled far, I have traveled wide,
 From Atlantic's shore to Pacific's tide;
 Yet of all I have seen, I love Utah the best,
 And my Orderville home, far away in the west.

 I know that in Old England there are many lovely homes,
 Where wealth and pleasure linger, and sorrow seldom comes.
 I see within the shady grove, the ivy-covered walls,
 And graveled walks, all lined with flowers, that lead to painted halls.

 The ostrich and the pea fowl are seen upon the lawn,
 Displaying robes of beauty, as at Creation's dawn;
 But round the park and palace are wall, and gate, and bar,
 Cannon, and spear and halbert, accoutrements of war,
 And when the gate swings open, I see the glistening steel
 That speaks in tones of thunder, "Behold the power we wield!"

 I look across the gateway, and catch a gleam of smoke
 That rises from a thatched roof, beneath a tangled copse.
 No voice of pleasure soundeth there--no graveled walk is seen--
 No peacock strutting on the lawn as proud as Egypt's queen!
 But there are rags, and naked feet, and cheeks all wan and pale!
 And hacking cough, and fretful voice of over-work and pain!

 O yes, it is a goodly thing to be a lordling born--
 To have the serf, who tills the soil, bring in the wine and oil;
 But I would rather face the blast of Nebo's snow-capped dome,
 Than be a slave, and dwell within the proudest Briton's home!

On November 17th, I wrote to my daughter Lydia: "I am glad that Brother
A-- and H-- have gone back to Leeds. All who come to Orderville
hankering for 'leeks and onions, and the flesh pots of Egypt' will
assuredly be dissatisfied, and go away. It requires faith to enable a
person to overcome selfishness; and all who gather there expecting to
be made the lead horse in the team will be disappointed. And when the
disappointment comes, it will cause them to feel that the water is not
good, and they will sigh for the soft streams of Ramaliah, and prefer
to labor in the brick kilns of Pharaoh on the shores of the Silver Reef.

"There is one thing that I desire to see changed at Orderville: that is
the school system. How long shall we be penny-wise, and pound-foolish?
The best man, the wisest, the one who wields the most influence in
the community, should be placed at the head of the school department.
It wants a man of good government, a man filled with the Spirit of
God. Then will our children advance in mental culture and spiritual
development; keeping pace with the spiritual growth so nobly manifested
at Orderville.

"You are now fifteen years of age--in stature a woman. The mind ought
to develop with the body. Cultivate a taste for good reading. Write as
much as you can. Be sure never to walk out nights. Keep company with no
man who presumes to take liberties with a lady. Guard your chastity and
virtue as you would your life. Robbed of that, you are robbed indeed.

"I believe there is not a man or woman in Orderville who would, upon
reflection, do a sinful act; but all are tempted, and in a thoughtless
moment good people sometimes fall. Sin brings us under bondage. Purity
is perpetuated only by eternal vigilance. In the beautiful morning of
life guide your feet far from the paths of wantonness, and keep the
lamp of prudence burning in your heart; so shall you end your days in
peace."

On Thursday, November 22nd, we walked twelve miles to John Hatt's,
Chalcutt Hill, Wilts. The walk was made disagreeable by heavy
showers of rain, and terrific gales of wind. Sister Hatt is a tall,
healthy-looking woman, fifty-four years of age, and the mother of
fourteen living children. On November 23rd, I received from Sister M.
A. Tippitts, a view of Swanage, Isle of Purbeck. On the back of the
card I wrote the following lines, then sent it to my wife Albina:

 "This beautiful isle, the isle of Purbeck,
 To look on the map, is but a mere speck,
 But once reach the shore, set foot on the land,
 You'll find it as large as the palm of your hand.
 And the surface as green--as green-sward can be,
 From the crown of the hill to the shore of the sea--
 While cottage and palace erected by man.
 Add beauty and polish to nature's first plan.
 How grand and sublime are the works of our God,
 From mountain and dale, to flower and sod!
 The streams of pure water, the bird in the air,
 The life and the light we see everywhere!
 The heart must be happy--how can it be sad?
 When the beast and the bird, and all things are glad?
 And I too, am happy--yet thinking of thee
 I wish I could walk on the waves of the sea,
 Or fly through the air with the speed of a dove,
 To my home in the west, to the friends that I love.
 Though our clay hills are naked, and valleys are bare,
 Yet the spirit of freedom is hovering there;
 While here the strong hand of oppression is seen
 Clouding the glory of Nature's bright scenes--
 Then blest be the day, and happy the hour
 When I can return to Freedom's fair bower."

November 24th, we visited Sister Mary Hatt, who has been suffering
for twenty-seven years with rheumatism. Her hands and feet are sadly
deformed, her legs doubled up, and her arms crooked; for three years
she has been bedfast, and not able to feed herself. She is eighty-seven
years old, yet retains all the powers of her mind. She knows fifty
Latter-day Saint hymns by heart, and can repeat many chapters of the
Book of Mormon. She never murmurs, but rather is cheerful and happy,
waiting for death to set her free. We had a pleasant talk with her,
blessed her, and returned to our lodgings feeling well paid for our six
mile walk.

On Saturday, December 1, 1877, I visited the so-called White Horse
of Westbury. The picture is made by cutting away the green turf and
exposing the underlying white chalk, on the brow of a hill that can be
seen for many miles around. At a distance, the horse looks as natural
as life. After I had taken measurements, I wrote to my little son Ferra:

"The White Horse of Westbury."

   I saw a horse upon the plain,
     A horse of great renown;
   His equal I have never seen
     Walking above the ground.
   Most beautiful in form and limb,
     His skin of spotless snow,
   I longed to be upon his back,
     But could not make him go.
   This horse in size is hard to beat--
     From nose to tail I measure--
   It is one hundred and seventy feet;
     Now isn't he a treasure?
   To know the height we stretched a line
     From hoof to top of shoulder--
   One hundred and twenty feet we find,
     And he's daily growing older!
   A horse so big I'm sure would make
     A team for any man--
   E'en Jacobs thinks he'd cut a wake
     If he but owned a span.
   And so would I, you bet your hat,
     I'd have a jolly bust--
   I'd take him down to London town
     And swap him off for dust.
   I'd want a penny for each hour
     That he has stood alone--
   I'd want a crown for every pound
     Of flesh, without a bone;
   Or I would sell him by his age--
     (Not sell him as he runs)
   For he has stood a thousand years,
     Exposed to rains and suns!
   He stands erect upon the hill,
     As proud as proud can be,
   To mark the place where Alfred wise
     Gained his great victory.
   For whip or spur he will not budge,
     And yet he will not balk.
   This is a fact, and not a fudge,
     For he is made of chalk.

On Sunday, December 2nd, 1877, we held meeting in the Saints' Hall,
Bristol. President Jacobs delivered an excellent discourse on the
first principles of the Gospel. I followed, showing that Mormonism is
not a new Gospel, but is the very Gospel of Jesus Christ renewed in
its purity as taught eighteen hundred years ago, by the savior and
His apostles. The meeting was well attended, several strangers being
present.

I wrote a letter to Elder Edward M. Webb, of Orderville, from which I
make an extract.

"It may seem strange, perhaps incredible, to you, when I say that
plural marriage and the United Order were both painful to me. When I
was a child I had seen so many of the follies of men, and the breaking
up of families by the thoughtless acts of unwise persons--all of which
I attributed to the evils of a principle which is in itself, pure--that
I became embittered and cherished hatred toward that which I now admire
and love.

"So it was when President Young called upon the Saints to organize
and work together in the United Order. I saw change, waste, and
trouble ahead; and I was quite willing to see my brethren wrestle
with the problem, while I stood aloof and looked on. Nor was I wrong
in my conjectures. It was soon plain that most of us were willing to
receive the blessing, as sectarians want to receive salvation; that
is, without labor or sacrifice; but we were not willing to give up our
_selfishness_, that little "jewel," dear to us as the apple of the eye.

"But the hour came when I had to meet the issue; when President Young
asked me to lead out and set an example before the people. That night
I never closed an eye in sleep. I reflected, I prayed earnestly, and
I was convinced that the only way to win the victory was to 'give the
heart to God.' When that was done, all was peace."

Near Taunton I became acquainted with a Mr. Samuel Knight, a deacon in
the church of England. His wife, a young-looking, intelligent lady, had
led the choir and taught the parish school for twenty-seven years, and
was the mother of ten children. These good people often assisted me,
for which I was grateful. I wrote them the following letter:

"Dear friends, your kind letter came all right. We thank you for the
postage stamps--they came very opportunely, as we were out. It is
interesting to note how the way opens before us: the things we need
come from sources not looked for, and is another evidence that we are
God's servants.

"We have not suffered for anything, and how thankful I am! Several
respectable persons, besides yourselves, are inquiring after the truth.
We are sorry that you are troubled and persecuted by neighbors who
should be your friends. But to me it is another evidence of the truth
of this Gospel that we are trying to preach to you. Did not a prophet
say, 'when the wicked rule, the people mourn?' Are not the pillars of
your church oppressors? Your ministers 'preach for hire, and divine for
money,' do they not?

"As for business, what shall I say? The way the world does business is
a sin. It is a system of oppression. One builds himself up by pulling
his brother down--the big fish eat the little ones. Who does unto
others as he would have others do unto him? I know of but one way of
deliverance from these evils; that is to repent, and obey the Gospel of
Jesus Christ as restored by the Prophet Joseph Smith."

Friday, December 7th, a dark, stormy day, I walked to Dunstan Abbott,
eight miles in the rain, to visit Joseph Able and family; returned to
Candle Green and stayed over night with James Timbrell, a game keeper.
The family had no children, the house was neat and tidy, but cheerless
and cold. I wrote:

   The days are short and the nights are long,
   The houses are cold as a Yankee's barn--
   The smoky chimneys, and open doors
   Are nicely matched by damp stone floors.
   Kindle the fire, but it will not blaze
   Unless you open the door a ways.
   Shut the door, and the crack above
   Is broader than a Christian's love;
   Or, if tight above, then the gap below
   Is as wide as the hole where sinners go.
   Turn it over, twist it around.
   It is all the same, whether up or down--
   A rainy, smoky, foggy England.

Saturday, December 8th, we returned to Cheltenham and remained a week,
visiting among the people. I wrote:

"Mrs. M. A. Tippetts, Dear Sister: Your kind letters and view cards
are safe in hand. I thank you for them. Yesterday we mailed a 'Voice
of Warning' to your uncle. It is as you say, a most excellent book
for circulation, and I hope in this case it will do good. We are much
pleased to see the faith you manifest in your works and words. May the
Father bless you, and make you a savior to your husband and your dear
children.

"The Latter-day Saints--and they alone, as far as I have seen--feel
today as the people of God in days of old felt, when men were blessed
with visions and visitations of angels, and often held communion with
God Himself. See the blessing on the head of Rebecca,--Gen. 24:60; also
Rachel's desires as recorded in Gen. 30; also Hannah's thanksgivings,
Samuel 1-2 chapters. These are the feelings that inspire the hearts of
the Latter-day Saints; feelings which give strength to our sisters to
share with each other the protection and affection of a worthy husband;
and which inspire our brethren to assume the responsibilities of
providing for large families, to the end that virtue may be sustained,
and every woman enjoy the blessing of motherhood, without committing
sin.

"A person must be a fool who cannot see that it requires more toil and
care to support two families than it does to support one. Hence, if
the Saints were wicked and sensual, as the world say they are, they
would seek pleasure where it could be purchased most cheaply, as men
of the world do. But the principles of the Gospel, including celestial
marriage, lead to a purity of life, that those who know not God are
strangers to.

"I hope your husband will continue to read my letters. They are poorly
written, which I cannot help; but they speak the truth. They are not
the emanations of a person paid for his labor. I am not working for
'bread and butter.' The little education I have was acquired in the
midst of severe toil--often acquired while lying on the ground by
the camp fire. Those who love the truth, however, will pass these
imperfections by, and rejoice in the testimonies of God's humble
servants; and realize that their words, like the holy scriptures, bear
the impress of the spirit of Jehovah upon them."

On Monday, December 17th, I parted with President Jacobs, walking to
Tewksbury, nine miles. Farmers were busy plowing and sowing grain; and
gardeners were transplanting as if it were spring. As I was passing
through Taunton, Mrs. Evans hailed me, asking if I was a Mormon Elder,
and invited me to dinner.

I soon learned the motive--there were five Church of England ministers
visiting with them. I consequently spent the afternoon in a lively
discussion. I was surprised at the wisdom given me, for I had the best
of the argument, and three of the ministers left, in a rage. Mrs. Evans
was pleased, and invited me to call again.

In the evening after the discussion, I walked eight miles to Pendock
Cross, and stayed all night with Thomas Newman. The family being poor,
had but one bed, so I sat up all night in a wooden-bottomed chair. Yet
I slept, and had a dream, in which I saw an old lady, then a stranger
to me, give me the gold to pay her fare to Zion.

The next day I walked fifteen miles, and found Mother Jaynes. She had
not seen an elder for nine years, and was living on the parish. Yet she
gave me her passage money; and when I came home, I brought her with me,
thus literally fulfilling the dream.

On the 18th, I walked twelve miles to John Wadley's. The roads being
very muddy, I sat down to rest a few minutes by the roadside. Putting
my hand in my overcoat pocket to get an apple, I found a pair of knit
woolen mits. I wrote:

   "Accept my thanks for the cozy cuffs.
     I found them one day, you see--
   As I was resting, an apple to eat,
     Beneath a roadside tree.

   How nice they are--so soft and warm!
     So clean, and tidy, and white;
   Emblem I hope, of the heart that gave,
     And the eyes that sparkle so bright.

   I value a gift from Allie's hand,
     Though a "mitten" 'tis plain to see.
   I'll keep them, and wear them, but never return
     A "mitten," dear friend, to thee.

Chapter 21.

A Visit to Wales.--Mrs. Simons' Good Work.--A Tribute to Joseph
Fielding Smith.--A Letter from My Wife, Albina.

December 19, 1877. In the evening President Jacobs baptized John
Wadley. On the 20th we walked eight miles to Little Dean. It was warm
and muddy. We were kindly received by Sister Burr is, who ever has a
tidy room, and a 'bit of cake' for the Elders. We decided to visit
Wales.

In response to an invitation from President Joseph H. Parry, we took
cars to Cardiff and Ponty Pridd, arriving there at noon, and walked two
miles to David R. Gill's. In the evening we held cottage meeting at
John Evans', then slept at Brother Hughes'.

I enjoyed the evening very much; but I can see the meshes of poverty
are tightening around the poor, and the Saints have to bear a part of
the afflictions and troubles that are coming upon Babylon.

On the 22nd, I walked to Mountain Ash, taking dinner with Brother
Loveday, who has a large and excellent family. We went to Cumbach, held
evening meeting, and stayed over night with Sister Phillips, a blessed,
good woman.

On Sunday, December 23rd, before breakfast, I walked five miles to
Merthyr, and during the day and evening attended three meetings. Many
strangers were present, the singing was sweet, and the speaking was
attended by the power of God's Holy Spirit.

On December 24th, I visited Thomas Jones, and Saints at Dyfern. In
the evening, while at supper, I heard Mrs. Evans, a lady not in the
Church, say: "If my health were better I would walk to Merthyr and help
the Saints sing in their concert tonight." I replied, "If you will be
baptized, you shall be healed." She said: "I am ready."

It was a dark, foggy night; but the brethren got a lantern, and we
walked to the river, which we found full of floating ice. One of the
Elders, lying down on the bank, held my hand while I slid into the
water and found solid footing; then they lifted Sister Evans down and I
baptized her. Returning to the house, we confirmed her, and she walked
two miles to Merthyr, took part in the singing, and was healed. This
was the only person that I baptized while laboring in Wales.

Christmas dawned, clear and cold, the ground covered lightly with snow.
As soon as it was light, Elder William N. Williams and I walked to
Thomas Jones'. On the way, we witnessed a foot-race, the runners being
stripped to the flesh, and running splendidly. A large crowd was out to
see the performance.

Returning to Merthyr to attend a conference meeting, I next walked
twelve miles with President Jacobs, and a Sister Simons of Bountiful,
Utah, who, after twenty-five years' absence had returned to visit
relatives and obtain genealogies for temple work. She is doing good
missionary work; many, through curiosity, come to our meetings to see
a live woman from Utah. To them she bears a faithful testimony of the
divinity of the Latter-day work. In the evening, the Tredagar saints
gave a concert, which we attended. The Welsh are fond of amusements,
especially singing, in which they are highly gifted.

On the 26th, I attended a public meeting. Elders Jacobs, Young,
Howells, and Williams spoke. After meeting, two were baptized. On
December 27th, I walked twelve miles to Abersychan, attending a
meeting at which four valley Elders spoke. We had an excellent time.
On December 28th, Elder Thomas F. Howells and I walked six miles, to
Pontypool, to visit a few saints living at that place. We took dinner
with Brother Richard Watkins, and he accompanied us to Abergavanny. In
the evening we held meeting at Brother Bazzants', then visited Father
Ellis and his grandchild. The next day we returned to Abersychan, met
Elders Jacobs and Williams, and were kindly cared for by a Sister
Thomas.

On Sunday, December 30th, we held two meetings. It was a bitter, bad
day, with heavy wind and rain; yet our meetinghouse was crowded. All
the valley Elders spoke. I have always found a good spirit among the
Welsh Saints, and trust that I shall always remember, with pleasure,
the many good meetings and reunions I have had with them. On Monday,
December 31st, 1877, we parted with Elders William N. Williams, Thomas
F. Howells, and the local Saints, and returned to Bristol, where I
found letters from home awaiting me.

Albina wrote that the weather was very cold and that some of my
children were barefoot. This was unpleasant news; but I was thankful
to learn that they were in good health, and had homes in the peaceful
secluded vales of Utah. "May God bless them," is the comment in my
journal. "I have labored four months in Wales and three months in
the Bristol conference. During that time I have walked nine hundred
seventeen miles, preached ninety-eight times, baptised two persons,
written one hundred fifty-seven letters, and received sixty. Thus ends
the year 1877."

On Tuesday, January 1, 1878, I remained all day in the office, getting
out financial and statistical reports. I had bread and herrings for
breakfast, dinner, and supper. The weather is cloudy, but mild. As yet,
there is no hard frost. Out-door wall flowers are in bloom, while fruit
buds are swelling, as if spring were at hand. I received a pleasant
call from Brother and Sister Hatt, and three of their daughters. On
Sunday, January 6th, I received the following letter:

"Elder John R. Young: Dear Brother: I have taken the liberty of writing
a few lines to you, and hope my letter will find you and Elder Jacobs
in good health. I am happy to say myself and two little girls are well
at present. I can truly say that from the time you were here, a great
weight of sorrow has been lifted off my heart, for which I feel to
thank the living God. And I also feel to thank you; that God may bless
you, and enable you to fill your mission and return in safety to your
family in Zion, is the prayer of your sister in the Gospel of peace,
Jane Roach."

It is always a comfort to me to know that I have been a comfort to
others. To help the poor, the weak, the needy, the tempted and tried;
to turn the sinner from the evil of his ways--this is ever more than
meat and drink to me.

On Monday, January 7, 1878, we left Bristol, passing in view of
Clifton, and over the suspension bridge, which is two hundred
forty-five feet high, above high water, twenty-five feet wide, and four
hundred feet long. We also passed a fine park, and saw therein a large
herd of fallow deer. How beautiful they looked!

Walking to Nailsea, ten miles, we visited with a family not in the
Church; then talked till midnight with Brother W----- and Father
Miller. The latter is eighty-five, yet bright and strong in mind and
memory. These good people slept by the fire in the big arm chairs while
President Jacobs and I occupied the poor little bed in the garret.

On the 10th, I left Brother Jacobs, by his request, and visited
Plymouth. It is a city of beauty, wealth, and sin. The branch here was
in a sad condition. I lodged with Samuel Norman, who had kept "bach"
during the last fifteen years. He was kind to me, but his home was a
little garret four stories high. The one little window that gave us air
overlooked the Plymouth Starch Works' back yard, a filthy, stinking
hole; and the room literally swarmed with rats and mice, of which, like
any woman, I am in mortal terror. Here I lived two weeks on one meal a
day, while visiting the Saints as a teacher.

Having got out hand bills and placarded the city, I had an open-air
discussion with the city post-master. I also attended a Methodist
revival meeting, where a minister invited me to pray. Among other
things, I thanked the Lord for having raised up the Prophet Joseph
Smith. This advertised my coming meeting better than my hand bills had
done. Accordingly, on Sunday, January 13th, I preached to a large and
attentive congregation, mostly strangers.

After meeting I wrote "Early Recollections of Apostle Joseph F. Smith,"
who is now presiding over the British Mission.

 I knew Joseph F. Smith, in life's rosy morn.
 When herding cows, and plowing corn;
 And though he worked early and late,
 He never murmured at his fate;
 But smiled to think that his strong arm
 Brought wheat and corn to his mothers' barn.

 His first mark made, I remember well,
 'Twas when he flogged Philander Bell;
 A champion then for innocence and youth,
 As he is now for "liberty and truth."
 If plain his speech, and strong in boyish strife,
 I doubt if he could mend the history of his life!

 The years of trial on Hawaii's land
 Were more than wiser heads would stand,
 Poi, paakai, poverty and shame,
 Were all endured, for the blessed Savior's name.
 The crime, and filth, and ulcerated sores
 Opened to view, bleeding at every pore;
 Tried the metal, proved one's pride,
 Then was the day of choosing sides;
 Then was the hour to begin, and he
 Pulled off his coat, and waded in.
 We need not urge him to improve,
 He seeks, as Joseph did, light from above;
 And God has given strength to Hyrum's son,
 Speeding him, on the race so well begun.
 For unto him a charge is truly given,
 To lead erring men from sin to heaven,
 To realms of glory, where truth divine,
 Enlightens life, with joy sublime;
 But I leave to pens abler than mine
 To paint the beauties of that heavenly clime.

 I choose to feast on more substantial food;
 One to be great, must first be truly good.
 The precious clouds that bless our vales with rain,
 Descend from lofty peaks, and kiss the plain.
 So God, Himself, in plainness said to man--
 "Blessed are the meek," "I am the Great I am,"
 And while His voice echoed from Sinai's peak,
 He talked with Moses "the meekest of the meek;"
 Then look to Christ, and note the key-words given
 To lead men back to God--and heaven.

 Brother, nobly and well thou hast begun--
 Now "Hold the Fort," "until the victory's won;"
 And when the smoke and din of war is past,
 Your works, and name, on history's page will last.

On Wednesday, January 16, 1878, I baptized Miss Elizabeth Short, and
told her I hoped her journey with the Saints would not be like her
name; but rather, would be long and pleasant. On Friday following,
I visited the Plymouth and Davenport cemetery. It is the largest
burying place that I had ever seen. It is laid off in good order, and
ornamented with trees, shrubs, and flowers--a lovely place in which to
rest. That day I wrote to President John Taylor:

"Dear Brother, I take the liberty of writing a few lines to you, and
of sending my letter by the hand of my father. I do not think you will
remember me, although I was born and brought up with the Saints, and
have known you since 1844.

"In 1854, I went on a mission to the Sandwich Islands, you having set
me apart for the mission. Soon after returning, I married and moved to
southern Utah (Dixie), where my family still resides. In my heart I
have desired to build up Zion, and to that end I have labored for the
kingdom of God, and the gathering of Israel.

"The object of writing is not, however, to relate what I have done, but
to ask a favor in behalf of some of my brethren. My labors since last
June have given me a good opportunity of becoming acquainted with the
Saints of the Welsh and Bristol conferences; and I wish to present to
you a few names of Saints whom I feel to recommend as being worthy of
assistance in emigrating.

"I will here say that personally I expect no benefit in the gathering
of these people; but I believe them worthy of a blessing, and I ask as
a favor that their names be held in remembrance; and that when it is
right and reasonable, that they be granted deliverance from this land
of poverty.

"Humbly asking God, our Father, to bless you and your counsel, and make
you mighty in the truth, that you may have power to lead Israel in
righteousness, I remain, your brother in the Gospel of peace."

On Sunday, January. 20th, I preached in the Davenport hall, to a
congregation of strangers. I felt satisfied with my labors here. I came
fasting and praying, without purse or scrip--and the Lord comforted me.

The next day I met President Jacobs at Taunton; also I received the
following letter from a Sister Spickett:

"Elder John R. Young, Dear Brother: Since I received your last letter,
I have been called upon to part with my dear father. He calmly passed
away last Saturday night, January 5th. It was a great trial; but the
Lord has taken him for a wise purpose. I loved him dearly--such a good
man--a kind husband and loving father. It was a severe trial to lose
dear mother; but now all seems to be gone.

"I trust this may find yourself and President Jacobs in good health
and spirits. Hoping to hear from you soon, and praying God to bless
you, I am, respectfully, your sister in the Gospel of peace. Grace E.
Spickett."

On January 24, 1878, I replied as follows:

"Dear Sister, I did not receive yours of the 16th until last evening.
I feel truly to sympathize with you in the loss of your dear father. I
should be much pleased if I had the power to write so as to comfort you.

"It appears from the records that your father has been a member of the
Church for thirty-four years; hence I am led to suppose that you were
born in the Church, and nurtured under the influence of the Spirit of
the Gospel. If so, you will readily comprehend that the present painful
separation is of short duration.

"I have often reflected upon the last trial and suffering of our
beloved Savior; what must have been the anguish of the few loving,
trusting, weeping disciples who followed him to the closing scene on
Calvary! What overpowering grief must have settled upon them! How the
heart must have throbbed, when they looked back upon the past, and
the mobbings and persecutions which they suffered, in many instances
forsaking all things for the Gospel's sake.

"True, while he was with them, in freedom, the precious words of
life that fell from his lips repaid them for every loss. But to see
Him whom they had loved more than they did their own lives, taken by
cruel hands, scourged, and beaten, and nailed upon the cross; and when
parched with fever, and asking for drink, to see his murderers offer
him vinegar and gall, and finally, on seeing his mangled body laid in
the tomb, to feel the last hope of their hearts buried with Him in
death!

"How comforting it is to know that sacrifice ever brings forth the
blessings of heaven! The death of Christ filled the hearts of His
disciples with the deepest of sorrow. But the showing forth of the
power of God in the resurrection banished every sorrow, dried the tear
in every eye, and filled every believing heart with joy unspeakable!

"O, the beauty and glory of a literal resurrection! And this is the
faith and hope of the Latter-day Saints! We know in whom we trust, and
we know if we are faithful that we shall meet our parents again; and
when we meet them we shall know them as readily as the Saints knew the
crucified and risen Redeemer.

"So you must not feel, dear sister, that you are left alone. Loved ones
may be near us, and we not able, in our present condition, to see them.
If you will seek to do the will of God, the spirit of your father will
visit you, and you will be comforted by dreams and the soft whisperings
of the Holy Spirit.

"It seems to me that the work of establishing your father's house
now rests upon you. Let nothing turn you from the truth; but seek
diligently to gather with the Saints; and let your life be pure, that
you may enter into a holy temple, and see that your father's work is
carried on.

"Praying God to bless you, and to lead you in paths of virtue and
righteousness, I am your brother in the Gospel of peace."

On Thursday, February 14th, ten months ago today since I left home in a
snow storm, I wrote the following verses:

 "Gathering flowers from an English hedge,
   At the close of day on Charlcutt Hill,
 While thoughts fly fast o'er sea and ledge
 To my pleasant home in Orderville.
 Ten months ago the snow fell fast,
 And the northern winds blew loud and shrill,
 As I urged my steed against the blast
 That whirled in gusts, by Glendale's mill.

 "I had pressed my lips to a wife's pale brow--
 Had blessed a new-born child;
 Then turned to face the falling snow,
 And the gale that blew so wild.
 I wended my way through the mountain pass
 Where forest pines grew high,
 Till the storm was hushed, and a calm at last
 Spread over land and sky.

 "And the sun's bright gleam in rays of gold,
 Danced over the hills and plain--
 And the cheered heart cried in accents bold:
 "Thus may it be when I come again!"
 O, vision sweet! Let it bide in my heart,
 With the image of loved ones dear;
 Like an angel of peace, may it never depart--
 But tarry, to comfort and cheer!"

I have always felt that God blessed me with a good family. Here is
a letter from my wife Albina: "Dear Husband: At five o'clock this
morning. Brother Jehiel McConnell died. He has not rusted out; but was
true and faithful to the end. He often said in meetings since coming
here, that he had never enjoyed himself so well before.

"A great many reflections have passed through my mind today. I think it
would do me good to see you, and hear you talk. I received your welcome
letter the day after New Years--I am always glad to hear from you; but
I felt a little disappointed not to get your likeness as a New Year's
present. True I have one, but I should have been glad of another.

"I have been to Brother McConnell's funeral. Brother Thomas Robertson
preached a splendid sermon--not to the dead, but to the living. I think
some of his discourses ought to be recorded.

"This evening the home missionaries were here. John Carpenter preached,
and did splendid for a new beginner. Brother Samuel Mulliner followed
with an Order sermon. He is an Order man in word and deed, and enjoys
the Spirit of God. It does me good to hear him talk, and I feel
thankful to live where we have good meetings. It keeps me alive.

"I am looking forward with joy, to the day when you can return to
family and friends. Sister Piersen sends her love to you. She is
weaving away as faithful as ever. Sister Claridge has gone north
to her daughter's. There are but few that I choose in this world
for companions. There is a Sister Porter, a widow who came from the
north, that I think much of. She is the mother of the young man who
was accidentally killed up in the canyon above our saw mill. She has
suffered much. I think she is a noble woman.

"I am well pleased with your Christmas gift. I should like to live on
that beautiful island with our family Ferra was well pleased with the
verses about the White Horse, and sends his love to you. Roy says 'Tell
father I have a pair of new shoes, and a kiss for him.' Joseph is well.
He is a fine boy. I am getting old; but my heart is as young as ever.
From your affectionate wife, Albina."

Chapter 22.

Death of Jehiel McConnell.--A Letter to My Daughter.--Five Thousand
Dollars Reward.--A Letter from Apostle Joseph F. Smith.

Brother Jehiel McConnell was one of the party who were with Elder
George A. Smith, Jr. when he was killed by the Navajo Indians. When
George A. was wounded and the party had to retreat, Brother McConnell
got onto his big mule behind the saddle, took George A. in his arms in
front of him, and carried him until he died; thus manifesting a love
and loyalty to his wounded brother that always endeared the man to the
people of Orderville.

On Wednesday, March 6th, I wrote the following letter to my dear
daughter, Lydia.

"Your kind letter came with Aunt Albina's. I am glad to have you write
to me, and pleased that you are going to school. I want you to take all
the pains you can in writing and arithmetic. They are the foundation
stones of usefulness. And I desire also that you become a lady; and no
one can be a lady who is not pure in body, and cultivated in mind.

"As for 'old shoes,' you can shed them off any time, and put on a new
and better pair--when the better day comes, and that day will come, if
you observe the principles of the Gospel; but ignorance cannot be put
off, like an old garment. The young ivy vine, when it begins to spread
its delicate fibers around the mighty oak, can easily be stripped off;
but left alone until matured by age, and you will find them so embedded
in the wood of the tree that you must take the ax and chop the vine in
pieces, and cannot separate them without doing harm to the body of the
tree. So it is with ignorance. If we are studious in youth, and think
of, and reflect often upon pure things, we shall grow in intelligence
and purity.

"In my heart I feel to draw my children to me; and notwithstanding
that I have been much from home, on missions; and that when at home,
I am the husband of three wives, still my love for home and family is
strong, and the ties of affection burn as deeply and sacredly in my
bosom as those holy passions do in other men's breasts.

"Sin and vice will diminish and extinguish from the heart the attribute
of love, while a pure, clean life will increase it. It is not every
little girl that I should write to, as I do to you. Nor would I write
with the same freedom to some women. But I know your heart, that you
can be trusted; and I want you to preserve yourself, and marry a good
honorable man, that I may always have joy in associating with my
daughter.

"I am so pleased that your little brother (Newell) is growing so
finely. What a comfort he must be to your mother! And how precious are
the blessings given us by the Gospel! I am so proud of my family; and
yet, had it not been for the principle of plural marriage, as taught by
the Prophet Joseph Smith, this blessing never would have been mine."

In the evening we held meeting. Elder William N. Williams gave an
interesting talk, and I followed, speaking on the first principles of
the Gospel. The next day Elder Williams, who has been my companion for
the last two weeks, returned to Wales. He was a good man, and I ever
pray God to bless him in his labors of love--that he might win souls to
righteousness.

March 10, 1878, I held two meetings in Father Lerwell's big kitchen,
which were well attended by strangers. Near the close of the day I
walked to the top of East Down Hill, and kneeling down, gave myself up
in prayer. It was so calm and peaceful that I fain would remain. I am
such a lover of nature and of solitude that I could not help writing:

 On the brow of this beautiful hill,
 Its fields now clothed in green, and blossoms white,
 Surpassing the loveliness of artist's skill,
 With dew drops sparkling in the sun's pure light;
 And sweet to me is the sunshine bright,
 For clouds of mist oft hover o'er
 The land of Britain, and spread from shore to shore