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.
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.
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 steelThat speaks in tones of thunder, "Behold the power we wield!"I look across the gateway, and catch a gleam of smokeThat 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!
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 steelThat speaks in tones of thunder, "Behold the power we wield!"
I look across the gateway, and catch a gleam of smokeThat 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 theeI 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 seenClouding the glory of Nature's bright scenes—Then blest be the day, and happy the hourWhen I can return to Freedom's fair bower."
"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 theeI 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 seenClouding the glory of Nature's bright scenes—Then blest be the day, and happy the hourWhen 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:
I saw a horse upon the plain,A horse of great renown;His equal I have never seenWalking 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 lineFrom 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 makeA team for any man—E'en Jacobs thinks he'd cut a wakeIf 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 townAnd swap him off for dust.I'd want a penny for each hourThat he has stood alone—I'd want a crown for every poundOf 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 wiseGained 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.
I saw a horse upon the plain,A horse of great renown;His equal I have never seenWalking 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 lineFrom 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 makeA team for any man—E'en Jacobs thinks he'd cut a wakeIf 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 townAnd swap him off for dust.I'd want a penny for each hourThat he has stood alone—I'd want a crown for every poundOf 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 wiseGained 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 ourselfishness, 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 doorsAre nicely matched by damp stone floors.Kindle the fire, but it will not blazeUnless you open the door a ways.Shut the door, and the crack aboveIs broader than a Christian's love;Or, if tight above, then the gap belowIs 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.
The days are short and the nights are long,The houses are cold as a Yankee's barn—The smoky chimneys, and open doorsAre nicely matched by damp stone floors.Kindle the fire, but it will not blazeUnless you open the door a ways.Shut the door, and the crack aboveIs broader than a Christian's love;Or, if tight above, then the gap belowIs 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 returnA "mitten," dear friend, to thee.
"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 returnA "mitten," dear friend, to thee.