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 armBrought 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 landWere 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 soresOpened 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 hePulled 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 mineTo 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 givenTo 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.
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 armBrought 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 landWere 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 soresOpened 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 hePulled 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 mineTo 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 givenTo 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 ledgeTo 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 blastThat 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 passWhere forest pines grew high,Till the storm was hushed, and a calm at lastSpread 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!"
"Gathering flowers from an English hedge,At the close of day on Charlcutt Hill,While thoughts fly fast o'er sea and ledgeTo 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 blastThat 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 passWhere forest pines grew high,Till the storm was hushed, and a calm at lastSpread 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."
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'erThe land of Britain, and spread from shore to shoreA veil of dampness, that begetteth blight.Hence, welcome the sunshine of the present day—And here, in nature's temple, I humbly pray.I kneel, and plead for wives and children dear,Yea, all the loved ones my heart holds near.Albina, with counsel, calm and wise,Lydia, more like April's changing skies;Tamar, whose voice is like dew from above,Blessed trinity, whose words of loveAre thrilling in my breast.Father, wilt thou give restAnd peace to each of them;And to Thy Saints, the wide world round,Where e'er the Gospel's glorious soundHath found a friend.
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'erThe land of Britain, and spread from shore to shoreA veil of dampness, that begetteth blight.
Hence, welcome the sunshine of the present day—And here, in nature's temple, I humbly pray.I kneel, and plead for wives and children dear,Yea, all the loved ones my heart holds near.Albina, with counsel, calm and wise,Lydia, more like April's changing skies;Tamar, whose voice is like dew from above,Blessed trinity, whose words of loveAre thrilling in my breast.Father, wilt thou give restAnd peace to each of them;And to Thy Saints, the wide world round,Where e'er the Gospel's glorious soundHath found a friend.
On Wednesday, March 13, 1878, I received a letter, in which it was stated that the "Liberals" of Salt Lake City had offered a reward of five thousand dollars for the arrest, "dead or alive," of Howard O. Spencer, wanted in a prosecution for killing Sergt. Pike. I wrote:
Five thousands dollars! The sum is too small.Bid up, Uncle Sam, or don't bid at all;For men with royal blood in their veinsAre not secured without greater pains!"Dead or alive" has a martial ring,It smacks of the power of despotic kings.It speaks of a power now dying out—A power that is cursed with palsy and gout;A power that came from the witch fires of Spain,That crushes religious freedom wherever it reigns!'Tis a wholesome sign, to see a man of GodDefying the power of the tyrant's rod;Walking erect, with a stately tread—When Gesler cries out "Bow down thy head."What though he fly to the mountain towerTo escape the venge of the tyrant's power.Let him bide his time, it will come ere long;Victory is not to the proud and strong,For "truth is mighty, and will prevail"—'Twill sweep from Utah, with fire and hail,The "Liberal" lies; and this gouty wail,Borne on the wind o'er sea and land,Is the dying groan of the "Liberal clan."Be thou firm and true, as the tone of thy prayer,And God will be with thee everywhere.And I—oh, how I long to singThe funeral dirge of the "Liberal ring."
Five thousands dollars! The sum is too small.Bid up, Uncle Sam, or don't bid at all;For men with royal blood in their veinsAre not secured without greater pains!"Dead or alive" has a martial ring,It smacks of the power of despotic kings.It speaks of a power now dying out—A power that is cursed with palsy and gout;A power that came from the witch fires of Spain,That crushes religious freedom wherever it reigns!
'Tis a wholesome sign, to see a man of GodDefying the power of the tyrant's rod;Walking erect, with a stately tread—When Gesler cries out "Bow down thy head."What though he fly to the mountain towerTo escape the venge of the tyrant's power.Let him bide his time, it will come ere long;Victory is not to the proud and strong,For "truth is mighty, and will prevail"—'Twill sweep from Utah, with fire and hail,The "Liberal" lies; and this gouty wail,Borne on the wind o'er sea and land,Is the dying groan of the "Liberal clan."
Be thou firm and true, as the tone of thy prayer,And God will be with thee everywhere.And I—oh, how I long to singThe funeral dirge of the "Liberal ring."
Howard O. Spencer was a playmate of mine, and while I was not with him at the time Sergeant Pike made his brutal assault, here is what Howard told me about it: "Army officers had demanded of Uncle Daniel Spencer that his stock should be moved from the vicinity of his corrals. Uncle sent Al Clift and me to move them; we reached the ranch just as the sun was setting. I was at the stack yard, with pitchfork in my hand, in the act of putting hay in the mangers for our horses, when Pike with several soldiers rode up, he dismounted, and coming to me, with gun in his hand, ordered me 'to get out and move the stock.' I faced him squarely, and told him there would be no cattle moved that night; with an oath he struck me with his gun. I held up the pitchfork to ward off the blow, the fork handle was of pine home-made, the blow broke it in three pieces, and came with such force, that I was felled to the ground with a crushed skull. Pike turned to mount his horse, when a soldier said, "put his head down hill, so he can bleed free." He caught me by the hair, and pulled me around, then they rode off laughing. A little ranch boy was with me; he ran and told Luke Johnson who came and took charge of me. When President Young learned of it, he sent Allen Hilton and Dr. Sprague, with a carriage for me. I was taken to Salt Lake City and placed in the care of Dr. France and Anderson. With their intelligent treatment, and careful nursing, my life was saved.
As soon as Howard's wounds were healed, so he could sit a horse, he came to my home, at Draper, and got a team to help the Spencer family, with their summer's work. At that period there were no houses, on the road from the Cottonwood to Draper, on the dry creek bench, Howard met General Lyon with a company of U. S. Dragoons. They were enroute to Bear River, with the announced purpose of protecting the Morrisites in their anticipated move to California. When he met the troop he stopped them, and asked if Sergeant Pike was with them. They answered, "No, but what do you want?" The reply was, "I am owing him a little, and I thought if he were here, I would pay the debt." What a blessing that Pike was not there! Had he been, Spencer would have killed him, without any thought for his own safety. As a man he was the soul of honor, kind and gentle, and slow to anger, but when aroused, he was fearless as a lion. His friends affirm that after the assault at Rush Valley, his mind was unbalanced. I have no comment to offer on that. I do know, however, he was void of the sense of fear, and that he felt, in the Pike difficulty, that he was assaulted because he was a Mormon, and his love for and loyalty to the Mormon people stamped in his heart a determination to pay the debt in kind, let the consequences to himself be what they would. His love for law and order, held him in check, until he saw the farce played, when Pike was brought into the Provost court, with his gun buckled on his side, escorted by his armed comrades, heard the colored pleadings of Pikes counsel, and the prompt decision of the judge, evidencing to unbiased men, that in that court, there was no justice for a Mormon. With that feeling uppermost in his mind, he walked quietly out of the court room, and when Pike came out, he paid the debt, by shooting him. In the confusion that followed Spencer escaped. Years after, I met him on the Sevier, traveling alone, unarmed, and unguarded, going to Salt Lake City, to stand his trial, and I believe the jury's verdict, that acquitted him, met the approval of just men and angels.
The following letter shows the spirit and methods used by the Mormon missionaries to help the poor to emigrate:
"Elder John R. Young. My dear brother: I need scarcely say I was pleased to hear from you. Can old acquaintance be forgot? Your experience in the British mission is that of scores of Elders who have labored there of late years.
"You no doubt say truly that in some respects the Bristol conference is the Molokai of the British mission; but it is not the only one. Our experience of today there, is not what it might have been twenty years ago. We are now gleaning the field after the harvest is gathered.
"I think it is right for the Elders to change about somewhat, as circumstances may seem to require or warrant, so as to equalize the toil, hardships, and enjoyments among all. I have suggested to Brother Naisbitt to make such changes this spring as may be deemed right and necessary for the well-being and prosperity, both of the Elders and the mission. Among others, I have not forgotten to mention you.
"I do not know yet whether it will be myself or some other person who will be sent to preside over the mission. I am of the opinion that I have almost served my apprenticeship there, and that I will be relieved, at least for the present. If you know me, and I think you do, you know that my sentiments are in favor of fair dealing and justice, as well as mercy; and I want no favor-kissing in mine. I have learned, too, that we cannot always judge, from a short acquaintance, of the real merits of men.
"One thing we should do: that is, encourage the Saints, as much as possible, to help themselves. If many of them would smoke less tobacco, drink less beer, visit fewer shows, buy fewer household toys and ornaments, and get along more economically, with a view of saving up their pennies until they multiply to pounds, they could, in a short time, emigrate themselves. We need to be wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.
"God bless you. Love to Brother Jacobs. All well here. Your brother in the Gospel, Joseph F. Smith."
A Letter to my Son.—An Enquirer Answered.—The Sinking of the Euridice.—Four Hundred Men Perish.—Letters from Home.—Two Splendid Dreams.
"Silas S. Young: My dear son: Your very neat letter of February 2nd came safely to hand, and I was pleased to have you write to me.
"I have recently been to Crew Kerne, a noted pleasure resort and while there, witnessed the Somerset steeple-chase races. I will try to tell you something about them. To begin with, I must tell you that England, and Wales, so far as I have seen, are hilly countries; the hollows abounding in creeks, and springs—and such beautiful clear, soft water; while the ridges and table lands are covered with forests of pine, oak, beach, and other varieties of timber. The tillable lands are generally drained; and the steep hills are cultivated, as well as the level plains.
"But farms in England are mostly cut up into small fields. The fences, which are mainly ditches and hedges, are crooked and irregular; often leaving the plow lands in triangle, or flatiron shape. With this explanation, I will now come to the race course.
"The grandstand, a glass-roofed shed with raised seats capable of seating a thousand persons, was situated on the east side of a glade, one-half mile wide, and commanding a good view of the same. A circular track, eight rods wide, and bounded on each side with red flags, was marked off a mile and a half long. This track crossed eight hedges, one deep creek and hedge combined, the object evidently being to select as difficult and dangerous a track as possible.
"The points to be tested were strength, speed, and activity in the horses; and nerve, skill, and horsemanship in the riders. They were required to run twice around the track; making a three mile run. The most difficult leap was a hedge six feet high, four feet wide on top, with a deep three-foot ditch on the opposite side. This leap had to be taken on an up-hill run, which made it hard work.
"But the part of the race that attracted the most attention was leaping the creek. This was ten feet wide and eight feet deep; but the water was partially dammed, causing an overflow of four feet on the farther side. The hedge on the approaching side was five feet wide and four feet high; making in all, twenty feet to be leaped.
"In the race, twelve horses started. A mare fell at the up-hill hedge, and broke her leg; the rider was thrown and so badly hurt, that he had to be taken away in the hospital cab. A horse fell in the creek, and the rider was nearly drowned. Two bay mares, the winners, and such beauties, went twice around the track, leaping the creek, twenty-two feet, neck and neck. It was the prettiest running that I have ever seen.
"Be a good boy, and write again."
Friday, March 22nd, I spent the day posting the conference books. The next day President Jacobs came from Trowbridge. He is in good health and spirits, and working hard. I also received the following letter from my father, dated Salt Lake City, February 17, 1878:
"My dear son, I should be glad if I were in a condition to send for the Saints you so much desire to emigrate; but it is not in my power. Yesterday I went to see your Uncle Phineas. It was his seventy-ninth birthday, Feb. 16, 1878. He is quite smart; gets up early mornings, does his own chores, and often walks up into town, two and one-half miles. Uncle Joseph is also well, and full of faith. He is eighty-one years old.
"Well, Johnny, hold on, and never give up until the battle is won. We shall all be glad to meet you when you come home. The family all join me in love. May God bless you, is the prayer of your father, Lorenzo D. Young."
Monday, March 25, 1878. As several of the Welsh Saints had written asking me to spend a Sabbath with them, I got leave of a week's absence from President Jacobs and crossed the Bristol channel on the steamer Wye. I visited Brother Harris at Cardiff, and held meeting. Wednesday, the 27th, I also visited D. R. Gill. That day a collier was killed by the falling of a stone in a mine where several of the Saints are working. Poor fellows, spending their lives toiling down in the dark, foul pits, with blocks of death hanging over their heads! Hundreds die yearly, as this man died.
In the morning the goodby is cheerfully spoken, for no shadow of death looms forward as a warning; at sunset the block has fallen, and the dying man is borne by his comrades to the heart-broken wife. The next day he is buried, and soon forgotten by all save those to whom his strong arm brought daily bread.
On the 28th I visited Brother Jenkin Thomas, A. J. Jones, and Brother Edwin Street. The latter is still confined to his bed, suffering from the effects of the terrible bruises he received in a coal pit two years, ago; but he keeps in good spirits and is firm in the faith. I held meeting in his house, that he might hear the service. The room was crowded, many strangers being present.
On Monday, the 30th, I visited Richard Wadley, gentleman, on his farm twelve miles from Cardiff, to help him in his work. I plowed while he sowed grain. This pleased him so much that he hitched his "cob" into the cart and drove me to his home in Cardiff. I spent the evening with the family, preaching the Gospel to them. Under this date, I wrote to an enquirer, not in the Church:
"I know the idea generally prevails, that a man can love but one wife at a time; but a careful reading of the word of God forces the conviction that the idea is wrong; and my own experience confirms this view. I find in the scriptures of divine truth, that we are commanded to love the Lord with all our heart, and to love our neighbor as ourselves; what a terrible tax to place upon a man who can only love one wife! I am thankful to say that I have learned to govern love by principle; and I can truly say, that the bright and intelligent sons and daughters born to me by different wives, are alike beloved, and dear to me."
On Wednesday, April 3, 1878, I returned to Bristol, and received the following letter from my wife Lydia:
"Dear Husband: The day's work is done, the children are sweetly sleeping, and the nine o'clock bugle (curfew) is sounding, 'Hard times, come again no more!'
"If I knew hard times would come no more to you, while you are in that land of poverty and wretchedness, I should be very thankful. I have been treated with much kindness by the brethren and sisters here in Orderville. Neither I, nor mine, have suffered for food or clothing.
"I am striving diligently to overcome selfishness, and I am gaining ground a little. I feel that if there are any more needy than I am, who are laboring faithfully in the order, let them be served first.
"I cannot accomplish as much work as I should like to, but I do all that I can. I am making hats, and have charge of the hat department. My babe is as nice a boy as anybody ever had; and the Lord knows it is my desire to bring him up in such a way that he will be an honor to his parents. Vilate is very delicate; I do not feel at all easy about her, but I do hope and pray that she will be spared to us.
"May the blessings of the Lord be with you, is the prayer of your affectionate wife, Lydia K. Young."
April 5th was a cold, windy day. I went to Sister Burris's, Little Dean Hill, forty miles, and found the family well. I wrote Elder Samuel Leigh, of Cedar City, as follows:
"Dear friend, I have just returned from a short visit to Wales, our old field of labor, and feel to write a few lines to you.
"I thought that England would go to war with Russia but as yet the Lion and the Bear are content to watch the bone, and snarl and growl at each other. However, the war feeling is becoming more intense and bitter, and it is hard to say what a day may bring forth.
"In Wales, there is still much suffering—worse a great deal than when you were here. You will doubtless remember Brother Street of Treorky, who was so badly crushed in the coal pit. He is still suffering, yet clinging to life and full of faith, else he would have been dead long ago. At one time, his wounds had nearly closed; but they opened again, and several pieces of the backbone came out. The doctors can do nothing for him; and our Christian friends call long and loud for a miracle, and because he is not healed, they harden their hearts and persecute the Saints; forgetting that John did no miracles, yet a greater prophet never lived."
One of the most melancholy events of the season was the sinking of Her Majesty's war training-ship, Euridice. She was returning from a six months' training trip, having on board four hundred picked young officers and men. In forty minutes more she would have been at anchor in Portsmouth. Thousands of friends had assembled on the pier to give them welcome; when a sudden squall, accompanied with snow, swept from the headlands across the bay, striking the ship. In a few minutes the storm was past; but the ship was nowhere to be seen. The hand of death, as it were, had smitten her; and of the four hundred souls on board, all perished but two.
On Sunday, April 7, 1878, I attended a baptist meeting in the baptist chapel, the Rev. Mr. Griffiths preaching an able discourse on baptism by immersion. After the services he put on a rubber water-proof suit, and stepping into a font filled with warm water, baptized eight persons; using these words: "Upon your profession of faith in Christ Jesus, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
At the close of the service, I went to the pulpit and introduced myself, and asked the privilege of preaching in the chapel. The ministers refused. I then told the people I was an Elder from Utah, and that I would preach that afternoon at Mr. Burris's, and my meeting was well attended by Saints and strangers.
On Monday, April 8, 1878, I walked to Clifford Mesne, twelve miles, and found Brother Wadley and family well. My wife wrote:
"Orderville, February 20, 1878. Dear Husband: Your favor of January 18th came today. I can truly say it is a kind and good letter. It gives me new courage, and I feel more determined to press on, in the straight and narrow path.
"Several things have happened today, causing me to feel well: your letter and a good one from father, and Hattie's new dress. She is much pleased; but poor little Mary—her lips are put up, and tears are in her eyes. I tell her it will be her turn next.
"Frank's cough is still very bad. Last, week we received the parcel you sent by Brother Leigh. William is so pleased with his knife. He carries it in his pocket in the day time, and sleeps with it in his hand at night.
"The children are having a dance tonight. Roy and Hattie have gone. They took hold of hands, and walked off together so kindly. They seem to think a great deal of each other, and I am proud to see them.
"You have been gone ten months, and my babe is walking around, by holding on to the chairs. He is so intelligent, and has such bright blue eyes. As for teaching my children to pray, I have always done so, since they were old enough to talk, and I generally pray with them night and morning.
"I am trying to do right, and I intend to improve as fast as I can in all good things. I am thankful that I am here in Orderville. I have never felt discouraged. Last night I dreamed that you and father both came home. I thought you had been gone just eleven months. As ever, your wife, Tamar B. Young."
April 11, 1878, from my journal: Last night I stayed with Brother and Sister Thomas Newman. As they had but one bed, I sat up all night in a wooden-bottomed chair; but I got some sleep, and dreamed that I saw an elderly woman apparently lost in the woods—and a person told me to go and get her, for she was ready to go to Zion.
In the morning I asked Sister Alice Newman if there was an aged sister in the Church living in the branch that I had not seen. She said, "Mother Jaynes lives about six miles from here, in an out-of-the-way place that no Elder has visited for the past four years." "Well," said I, "I want you to tell me the way, as I must see her and get her emigration money."
This amused Sister Newman: for Sister Jaynes had been living on the parish for over twenty years. It was a dark, rainy day; but Sister Newman put on her cloak and walked across the fields with me. We found the old lady gathering bits of sticks from the hedge. I asked her to go to the house, make a good fire, and give us some refreshments. When we had warmed and rested, I told her I had come to get her emigration money.
She said, "The Lord has sent you, for no mortal knows that I have any money." She went into a back room, and soon returned with her apron full of gold, emptied it on to the table, and told me to do as I pleased with it. I counted out her emigration money, and sent it to the Liverpool office; and when I came home, I brought her with me—to Echo on the Weber, where her friends were waiting for her.
Having returned with Sister Alice, I then walked two miles to the top of Malvern Hill, knelt down and gave thanks to the Lord for the revelations of His Spirit to me; a Spirit that guides me so often into unknown paths.