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´╗┐Title: Life of a Pioneer - Being the Autobiography of James S. Brown
Author: Brown, James S.
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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[Image: James Brown]




GEO. Q. CANNON & SONS CO., Printers.


THE life of a pioneer in Western America always is full of peril
and hardship; often it has a large share of startling episodes and
thrilling adventures; not infrequently it is associated with notable
historic events; and the experiences met with develop independence of
character, firmness of purpose, and, in those whose spiritual nature
is not dwarfed by unworthy conduct, a sublime faith in God that when
man puts forth his highest endeavor all things beyond the scope of his
efforts are ordered for the best by the Great Ruler of the universe.
When to the pioneer's experiences are added those that come from travel
in foreign lands, perils of the sea, and the hostility of warlike foes,
the narrative of such a life cannot fail to be alike profitable and
interesting reading to both young and old.

The subject of the autobiographical sketch in this volume feels that
he is not presumptuous in saying that each class of experience named
in relation to the pioneer and the traveler has been his. The perils
and hardships of the pioneers in whose work he commingled have been
the theme of song and story for half a century; the thrilling and
adventurous character of his experiences as frontiers-man and Indian
interpreter were of a kind notable even in those avocations; his
association with historic events of moment includes the period when
the territorial area of the great Republic was almost doubled by the
acquisition of the Pacific slope and the Rocky Mountain region, and
when the great gold discovery in California was made, since he was
a member of the famous Mormon Battalion and also was present at the
finding of gold in California, being the first man to declare--on
tests made by himself--that the little yellow flakes were the precious
metal; and his reliance on Deity is portrayed in his missionary work
at home and in foreign lands, with civilized people and among savages,
often in circumstances when life itself apparently was forfeit to duty
conscientiously performed.

In the following pages there is no claim to transcendent literary
merit. Yet the writer feels that the narrative is presented in the
plain and simple language of the people, with a clearness and force
of expression that will be pleasing and impressive to every reader
possessed of ordinary or of superior educational attainments; while
the very simplicity and directness of the language used, far from
embellishing the events described, prove an invaluable guide in
securing accuracy, that not an incident shall be overdrawn or given
undue importance.

The purpose of the writer has been to relate the story of his life, for
the benefit and entertainment of his children and friends, and of all
others who may read it, and to do so with a strict regard for veracity;
for he feels that the numerous thrilling and sensational incidents in
his life were sufficiently exciting to bear a toning down that comes
from calm contemplation when the agitation of the immediate occurrence
has passed, rather than to need the coloring of a graphic pen. In such
a presentation, too, he feels that the result of his labors in this
respect will be a further step in carrying out that which has been the
leading purpose of his life, namely, to do good to all mankind, to the
glory of God.

With a fervent desire and firm confidence that every worthy aim in
presenting this autobiography shall be achieved, and shall find a
vigorous and ennobling response in the hearts of those who read it, the
leading events of his life, and the narration thereof, are respectfully
submitted to his family and friends by




Home of the Author--A Career of Thrilling Experiences--His Birth
and Parentage--Early Avocations--Migration from North Carolina
to Illinois--Life on the Frontier--Dangers to Early Settlers--A
Frontiersman--Father's Advice--More Settlers Come--Churches and
Schools--Limited Opportunities--Frozen Feet--Unimpressionable to the
Preaching of the Time--Talk of a New Religion, Prophets, Miracles,
etc.--Prosecution of the New Church--"Showers of Stars"--Popular
Adverse Views of the Mormons--The Mormons Driven from Missouri
Into Illinois--Mormon Elder Comes to Preach--Converts Uncle
James Brown--Preaches Again--Preparations to Mob the Elder--His
Scriptural Doctrine Disconcerts Enemies and Secures him Friends--His
Discourse--Effect on Young James S. Brown of the First Gospel Sermon to
him--His Testimony to the Spirit and Truth of the Elder's Message.


Persecuted by Playmates--Give Them an Effective Check--Fight
with Wild Beasts--Parents Join the Mormons--The Author Holds
Back--Assassination of Joseph and Hyrum Smith--Mormons Leave Illinois
for the West--Exciting Times--My Winter's Work--Father Decides to
Wait a While Before Leaving Illinois--My Determination to go with the
Mormons--Confide a Secret to my Mother--A New Consultation--Change In
the Family Plans--Father Prepares to Start--Gives me Permission to
Go--Thinks of Leaving me because of My Illness--I Feel to Prefer Death
to Being Left Behind.


Start for Nauvoo--Taken Severely Ill--The Lord Answers my Prayer
for Relief--Pass through Carthage--In Nauvoo "The Beautiful,"
but Almost Deserted City--Scene on the Iowa Shore--Cross the
Mississippi--Curious Make-up of the Exiles' Teams--The Bad Roads--Stuck
in the Mud--Repairing Camps--Good Order Maintained--Unnecessary
Killing of Game Forbidden--Reach Grand River and Put In a Crop--Learn
of the Call for the Mormon Battalion--Apostles as Recruiting
Officers--Call for Volunteers--Response by the Camp--Received into
the church by Baptism--Filled with the Love of the Gospel--Get the
Spirit to Enlist--Consult my Relatives and Ezra T. Benson--An Elder's
Promise--Join the Mormon Battalion.


Start for the Battalion Rendezvous--A Journey of Hardship--In the
Mormons' Camp on Missouri River--First Experiences in the Army--Blessed
by Apostles--Prophetic Address by President Brigham Young--The
Battalion starts on its Long Journey--Doing Camp Duty--Heavy Storms and
Insufficient Rations--Hard Experiences--At Fort Leavenworth--Mexican
Mules as a Cure for Egotism--Colonel Allen Taken Ill--On the Santa Fe
Road--Suffering from Thirst--Sickness among the Troops--Dr. G. B.
Sanderson, a Tyrannical Quack--Army Merchants--Order of Marching.


Crossing of the Kaw River--Indian Farmers--Fierce Storm on Stone Coal
Creek--Crossing a Creek with Precipitous Banks--Ruins of an Ancient
City--Wagonload of Sick Upset in a Stream--Sad News of Col. Allen's
Death--Dispute over His Successor--Military Rules Disregarded In
Settling The Question--Troops Dissatisfied--Sickness In Camp--Harshness
of the New Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Smith--Brutality of the Doctor
--Doses of Objectionable Medicine in an Old Iron Spoon--In the Comanche
Indian Country---Abuse from Lieutenant Colonel Smith--Scarcity of
Fuel--Buffalo Chips--Cooking Food under Great Difficulties--Increase of
Sickness--Up the Grand Valley of the Arkansas--Detachment of Sick Sent
to Pueblo--Mirages--Herds of Buffalo--On the Sick List--Reach the Rocky
Mountains--Prehistoric Ruins--In Mexican Villages--Arrival at Santa Fe.


Exemplary Conduct of the Mormon Troops--Lieutenant Colonel P. St.
George Cooke Arrives and Assumes Command--A Welcome Change--Another
Detachment of Sick, also the Laundresses, Sent to Pueblo--Selecting
Men to Continue the Journey to California--Reducing the
Baggage--Difficulties of the 1,100 Miles Journey Ahead--Poor
Equipment Therefor--Leave Santa Fe--Roads of Heavy Sand--On One-third
Rations--Hardships Increase--Galled Feet and Gnawing Stomachs--More
Sick Men for Pueblo--Leaving the Last Wagons--Mules and Oxen In a Pack
Train--In an Unknown Country--Hunting a Pass over the Mountains--Alarm
of an Enemy--A Beaver Dam--Crossing the Rio Grande Del Norte--Great
Suffering Among the Troops.


Pushing to the West--Overhearing a Conversation with Col. Cooke--The
Colonel Fears the Men Will Starve--No Berries, not even Bark Of Trees,
for Food--True State of Affairs as to the Outlook Kept from Most of the
Troops--Hides, Intestines, and even soft Edges of Hoofs and Horns of
Animals Eaten--"Bird's Eye Soup."--In a Snowstorm--Relics of Ancient
Inhabitants--Camp without Water--Old Silver and Copper Mines--Hardest
Day of the Journey--Men Appear as if Stricken with Death--The Writer
so Ill as to be Unable to Travel Longer, and Expects to Die--Uncle
Alexander Stephens Comes with Water and Revives Him--Awful Suffering in
Camp--Reported Sick Next Morning--Brutal Dr. Sanderson Gives a Deadly
Dose of Laudanum, but the Writer Vomits it After Being Made Fearfully
Sick--In Terrible Distress for Days--Healed by the Laying on of Hands
of the Elders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints


On the Summit of the Rocky Mountains--Crossing the Backbone of the
North American Continent--Review of the Journey--Graves Opened by
Wolves--Mutilated Bodies--An Unparalleled Journey of Hardship--The
Prospect Ahead--A Matter of Life and Death--Start Down the Pacific
Slope--Descending the Cliffs with Wagons--One Vehicle Slips and is
reduced to Kindling Wood and Scrap Iron--Into a New Climate--Change
in the Character of Vegetation--Wild Horses and Cattle--Attacked by
Wild Cattle--Several Men Hurt and one Mule Gored to Death--A Number
of Cattle Killed--Supply of Beef--Reach the Pan Pedro River--Traveling
Through a Heavy Growth of Mesquit and Chapparal--Approach the Mexican
Garrisoned Town of Tucson--News of Approach of a Large American Army
Sent to the Mexicans--Order Issued by Colonel Cooke.


On the Trail to Tucson--Excitement In the Town--Meet Mexican
Soldiers--Our Numbers Overrated by the Indians--Mexican Commander
under Orders to Oppose us--Colonel Cooke Announces his Wish to Pass on
Without Hostilities--Arrest of Corporal Cassaduran, son of the Mexican
Commander at Tucson, and other Mexicans who are Held as Hostages
for the Return of our Interpreter--The Interpreter is Liberated--An
Armistice Proposed--Surrender of Tucson Demanded--Mexican Prisoners
Released--Surrender is Refused--Colonel Cooke orders the Battalion to
Prepare for Battle--Advance toward the Town--Flight of the Mexicans--At
the Gates of Tucson--Our Line of Battle--Address by Colonel Cooke--We
Enter the Town, and Pass Through to Camp--Purchases of Wheat,
Corn, etc.--The battalion nearly Starved--Night Alarm of a Mexican
Attack--Difficulties of Getting into Line--No Enemy in Sight--Start
Across the Gila Desert--Agony on the Burning Sands and Alkali
Flats--Strengthened by the Divine Blessing--Reach the Gila River.


On the Gila River--Pima Indian Village--Welcome Gifts from the
Pimas--Among the Maricopa Indians--Asleep on the Trail--Visit from
a Bear--Loss of Provisions Through an Attempt to Float a Quantity
Down the Gila--Hard Traveling--Crossing the Colorado River--Gloom In
the Camp--Lower and Upper California--Terrible March over the Tierra
Caliente, or Hot Lands--Digging Wells for Brackish Water--Advance
Guard Reach a Mountain Spring--Water Carried back to Revive the
Fainting Troops--Last Spoonful of Flour Used--Dividing the Rations--In
the Canyons of the Sierra Nevada--Hewing Roads through Rocks and
Brush--Feeding on Live Acorns and Green Mustard--News of Victories
by United states Troops in California--Preparing to Engage the
Retiring Mexican Army--First House Seen in California--Beef Without
Salt--Trade for Acorn Mush--Heavy Storm and Flood In Camp--a Few Pounds
of Flour Secured--Dancing in Mud and Water--Receive Orders to go to
Los Angeles--Discover a Body of Troops in Line of Battle--Advance
to the Attack--Supposed Foe Proves to be Friendly Indians--Presence
of the Mormon Battalion prevents an Intended Attempt by Mexicans to
Retake California, also an Uprising of Californians Against the United
States--On a Battlefield where General Kearney had Fought--Relics
of the Encounter--Prophecy of President Brigham Young and its
Fulfillment--Source of His Inspiration.


Ordered to San Diego--First View of the Pacific Ocean--Rumors
of the Enemy--Complimentary Order, by Lieut. Col. Cooke, on
the Achievements of the Mormon Battalion--Reported Hostility of
Col. Fremont to Gen. Kearney--Living on Beef Alone--Obtain some
Flour--Routine of the Camp--Ordered to Los Angeles--Damage by an
Earthquake--Wild Horses and Cattle Driven Into the Sea--Arrival at
Los Angeles--Rumors of an Attack--Constructing a Fort--Guarding Cajon
Pass--Surrounded by Wild Cattle--Take Refuge In a Ravine--Col. Fremont
Arrested--Site of San Bernardino--Getting out a Liberty Pole--Brush
with the Indians--Clearing Los Angeles of Dogs--Wickedness in the
Town--Brutality of Bull Fights, Horse Racing, etc.--Always Ready for
an Attack--First Raising of the Stars and Stripes on a Liberty Pole in


Term of Enlistment Expires--Battalion Members Preparing to Return to
their Families--One company Re-enlists--An Insolent Spaniard--Pistol
Snapped in the Writer's Face--Almost a Deathblow--Desperate Fight
Stopped by Bystanders--Serious Trouble with Another Spaniard--Learn
the Lesson to Avoid those who Gamble or Drink Intoxicants--Spanish
Character--Class of California's Inhabitants in 1847--Condition of the
Country--Appearance of the Towns and Villages--Difficulty in Securing
an Outfit for Members of the Battalion to Journey Eastward.


Mormon Battalion Mustered out of Service--One Hundred and Fifty
Members Organize to Return Fast to the Rocky Mountains--Start on the
Journey--Difficulties of the Route--Dealing with Wild Horses and
Cattle Stampede of a Pack Animal--Chase Into an Indian Camp--Lost All
Night in a Swamp--Suffering on the Desert for Lack of Water--Arrive
Near Sutter's Fort--On the Site of Sacramento Party Decide to Remain
Over for the Year, and Obtain Employment--Meet Captain J. A. Sutter
and James W. Marshall--Proposition to Capt. Sutter--Engaged to Work
on a Sawmill--Proceedings at the Millsite--Mill Started Up--The Writer
Engaged to Direct Indians Laboring at the Tail Race--Conversation with
Mr. Marshall--Marshall Talks About Finding Gold--He and the Writer make
a Search for Gold, but Finding None, Defer the Investigation till Next
Morning--Marshall's Faith in his Being Successful In Discovering the
Precious Metal.


Arrival of the Members of Mormon Battalion at Sutter's Fort Opens the
Way for the Discovery of Gold In California--James W. Marshall out
Early on January 24, 1848--"He is Going to Find a Gold Mine"--Regarded
as a "Notional" Man--"Boys, I have got Her Now!"--Testing the Scales
of Metal--"Gold, Boys, Gold!"--First Proclamation of the Great Gold
Discovery--Second and Third Tests--All Excitement--Three or Four
Ounces of Gold Gathered--Agree to Keep the Discovery Secret--Find
the Precious Metal Farther Down the Stream--How the Secret Leaked
out--More Discoveries--First Publication of the News made in a
Mormon Paper--Washing out the Metal--First Gold Rocker--Gathering
Gold--Part taken by Mr. Marshall, the Mormons and Capt. Sutter in the
Discovery--Misfortunes of Sutter and Marshall--Account of the Gold
Discovery Certified to by Several Eye Witnesses


Prepare to Leave California--Snow in the Mountains Causes a Wait till
the Last of June--Discover a Rich Gold Prospect--Leave it to Make the
Journey over the Mountains--No Regrets at Abandoning the Mines in
Answer to a Call of Duty--Camp Organized in Pleasant Valley--Start
on the Trip--Three Members of the Party Ahead, Looking out the
Route, Found Murdered by Indians at Tragedy Springs--Covering the
Bodies--Stampede of Animals--Guarding Against Hostile Indians--Crossing
the Divide in Snow--The Writer Fooled--Take Two Indians Prisoners--Cutting
a Road--Horses Stolen by Indians--Pursuit to Capture them--In
Carson Valley--Along Humboldt River--At Steamboat Springs--Over the
Desert--Member of the Party Wants to Kill Indians--The Writer's
Emphatic Objection--Indians Wound Stock--Addison Pratt as a Lucky
Fisherman--Writer Trades with an Indian--The Red Man's Trick--Writer
Pursues him into the Indian Camp--Escape from Danger--Journey to Bear
River--Hot and Cold Water Springs--Reach Box Elder--View the Great
Salt Lake--Arrive at Ogden, where Captain Brown and some Saints had
Settled--Journey to the Mormon Camp on what is now Pioneer Square, Salt
Lake City--Heartily Welcomed by Relatives and Friends--Rejoicing and


Contentment Among the Saints in Great Salt Lake Valley--Rude Dwellings
and Short Rations--Trying Experiences--Rescue of Mormon Battalion
Members from Starvation--Carry News of California Gold Discovery to
the East--Re-union of Mormon Battalion Members--Addresses by the
First Presidency and Others--Settling a New Country--Organization of
Minute Men--Cold Winter--The Gold Fever--Tenor of the Preaching and
Prophesyings of those Times--Instructing the People in Industrial
Pursuits--Policy Towards the Indians.


Scarcity of Food in the Great Salt Lake Valley--Wild Vegetables
for Greens--Fair Prospects for Crops--Clouds of Crickets lay
Bare the Fields--People struggle Against the Pests Almost to
Despair--Vast Flocks of Sea Gulls, as the Clouds of Heaven, Come to
the Rescue--Destruction of the Crickets--People Praise the Lord--The
Writer Invited to a Meeting, Ordained a Seventy, and Called with
Others to go on a Mission to the Society Islands--Words of Presidents
Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball--Preparations to Travel to
California with an Emigrant Company--Description of the Route by
Captain Jefferson Hunt--Start on My Mission--Prophecy by President
Willard Richards--Battle with Indians at Provo Averted by Apostle C.
C. Rich--Prospects of Utah Valley to Support Population--Overtake the
Emigrant Company--Discussions at Beaver River--Company Starts for
Walker's Pass--Turned Back by Scarcity of Water--Experience on the
Desert--Dissensions in the Company--Futile Attempt to send some of
the Members Back--Apostle C. C. Rich Foresees Further Trouble, and
Endeavors to Save the Mormon Part of the Train by Advising Them to
Return to the Old Spanish Trail--Methodist and Campbellite Ministers
Incite the Company Against their Mormon Guide, Captain Hunt--Main
Company Disregards Captain Hunt's Warning of Danger, and Leaves the Old
Spanish Trail to Search for the Route Through Walker's Pass--Mormons go
with Captain Hunt on the Southern Route.


Caught in a Snowstorm--Via the Santa Clara and Rio Virgen to
the Muddy--News of Sad Disaster to the Emigrant Company--Making
Charcoal and Nails--An Apostle as a Blacksmith--Searching for Water
on the Desert--Crossing an Alkali Stream--Discover Gold near Salt
Springs--Hurrying on over the Desert--Cattle Poisoned at Bitter
Springs--Killing Animals to Relieve their Sufferings--First Wagon
over Cajon Pass, going West--Severe Journey to the Summit of the
Pass--All get Over Safely--Sense of Great Relief--Grass and Water
In Abundance--Overtaken by survivors of the Emigrant Company--Their
Story of Terrible Suffering--Divide Provisions with Them--Celebrating
Christmas, 1849--Continuing the Journey North--Spanish Warning in a
Cemetery to Indians--Cruelty of the Spaniards to the Indians--The
Writer Placed In Charge of the Company--Directed to go to the Gold


Journeying Toward the Gold Diggings--Threatened by Wild
Horses--Difficulties of Traveling--Convocation of the Feathered
Creation--Rejoin Our Friends--Ferrying Across a River--Strike a Gold
Prospect--On a Prospecting Tour--An Agreement that Failed--Instructed
to go to San Francisco to proceed on a Mission--Trip to
Stockton--Gamblers, Sharpers and Miners at that Place--A Temptation
Overcome--Arrive in San Francisco--Welcomed by Saints--Receive Kind
Treatment--On Hoard a Vessel Bound for Tahiti.


Sailing for the South Pacific--Severe Attack of Seasickness--Becalmed
in the Tropics--Intense Heat--Marquesas Islands--Cannibals--Reach
Tahiti--Land at Papeete--Meet with Friends--Hearty Welcome--Preaching
to the Natives--Animosity of Protestants and Catholics Toward the
Mormons--Jealousy of French Government Officials on the Island--Watched
by Detectives--Six Natives Baptized--Learning the Language--Rumors
of an Intention to Expel the Mormons--Elders B. F. Grouard and T.
Whitaker Arrested--Appeal for Aid--Their Release and Return to their
Missionary Labors--Meet with Brother Pratt Again--Interview with the
Governor--That Official Refuses Elders Pratt and Brown Permission to
Visit Another Island--Scarcity of Food at Huaua--Eating Seasnails and
Bugs--Strange Dishes of Food--Almost Perish from Thirst--Visit to
Tiarara--Acquiring the Language.


Offer of Transportation to the Island of Tubuol--Apply to the Governor
for Permission to go--Troops on Parade--Suite of Queen Pomere--Call
on the Governor--Conversation in Three Languages--Directed to Come
Again Next Day--Put off by the Governor--Latter Refuses the Permission
Asked--His Prejudice Against the Mormons--Demands a Statement of Their
Doctrines--Not Required of Other Denominations--Writer's Interview
with the Governor--Return to Huaua--Other Elders Requested to Assemble
then--Bitterness of Protestant Ministers--Natives comment on Mormons
Learning Their Language Quickly.


Visit to Papeete--Duck-Hunting Trip--A Peculiar Woman--Along a
Perilous Path--An Opinion of English Ministers--Arrival of S. A.
Dunn--Learn of More Missionaries Arriving at Tubuoi--News from my
Father and Others--Letters from the First Presidency and Some of the
Apostles--Written Statement Sent to the Governor of Tahiti--Visit the
Governor--Our Statement Rejected--List of Questions and Statement
Presented by the Governor--Reply of Elder A. Pratt--Objections by the
Governor--Permission given us to Travel and Preach on the Islands.


Return to Huahua--Heavy Rainstorms--Refusal of an Offer to be
Carried Over a Stream--Perilous Swimming Feat--Episode with a Wild
Boar--Start on a Trip Around the Island--Obtain a Loaf of Bread--People
not Desirous of Listening to the Mormon Elders--Customs of the
Natives--Reputation of Protestant Clergy on Tahiti--With the Chief
Magistrate of Uairai--Across a Small Bay in a Canoe--French Garrison at
the Isthmus--With my Friend Pohe--Review of a Hard Journey--Again at


Scarcity of Food--Traveling In Heavy Rains--Call on a Protestant
Minister--Arrival of Another Missionary and Letters from Home--Visitors
from Metia--Hold a Sacrament Meeting--Go to Papara--Abused by the
Protestant Minister--Preach to the People--Young Woman Miraculously
Healed at Baptism--Great Excitement--Rage of the Protestant
Ministers--Persecution Instituted--Arrested for Preaching--Released on
Promising to Return to Huaua--Plenty of Friends--Unintentional Escape
from Gen d'Armes--Arrival at Papeete--Charge on which Officers seek to
Arrest me--Abused by Rev. Mr. Howe--A Quiet Answer Calls Out Cheers
from the Crowd--Tide Turns in my Favor--Excitement Calms Down, and
Efforts to Arrest Me Cease.


Several Baptisms--Visit Papara Again--Coldness of the People--Bitter
Efforts of the Protestant Ministers--Natives Visit Me In
Secret--Anti-Mormon Mass Meeting--Foolish and Vicious scheme to
Ensnare the Writer--It is Easily Defeated--Return to Papeete--More
Baptisms--Departure of Elder Dunn--I am left Alone--Brethren come
from Tubuoi--Elders Appointed to Labor in Different Islands--The
writer Assigned to the Tuamotu Group--Leave on the Elders' Schooner
the _Ravai_ or _Fisher_--Meet with Contrary Winds--Driven to Various
Islands--Encounter a Violent storm--In Great Peril--Vessel Beyond
Control--Storm calms Down--Reach Tubuoi--First Preaching of the Gospel
there, in 1844.


Hearty Welcome in Tubuoi--Start for Tuamotu--Reach Papeete,
Tahiti--Visit to Huaua--Leave Tahiti--Writer gets Relief from
Seasickness--Broiled Fish and Cocoanuts--in a School of Whales--Thrown
onto a Coral Reef--Total Wreck Imminent--Three Persons yet Ashore--Boat
goes out to Sea--Wreck of Elder Dunn's Party--Three Days In the Sea,
Clinging to a Capsized Boat--Clothing Torn off by Sharks--Skin Taken
off by the Sea and Sun--Reach the Island of Anaa--Recognized by a
Man who had seen me in a Dream--Preaching and Baptizing--Many of
the Natives Church Members--Make a Rude Map of the California Gold
Fields--Tell of Having been in the Mormon Battalion--Catholic Priests
Elicit this Information as Part of a Scheme to have me Expelled from
the Island.


Invited to Organize Schools--Catholic Priests Displeased at
Mormon Success--Good Attendance at the Schools--Threats by the
Priests--Discomfiture of the Latter--Feast and Address of Welcome by
the Natives to the Writer--Preaching and Baptisms--Catholic Priests
seize a Schoolhouse Belonging to the Saints--Disturb a Saints'
Meeting--More Baptisms--Further Annoyance by Catholics--People Decide
Against Them--Town Officials Appealed to--They Uphold the Decision in
Favor of the Mormons--Priests Write to Governor Bonard, Making False
Charges Against me--A Peculiar Dream.


Go to Temaraia--Miraculous Healings--Child Assailed by an Evil
Spirit--Strange Occurrence--Gift of Sea Biscuits--Perform a Surgical
Operation--Hammering out Teeth--The Writer as a Surgeon and
Dentist--Roughs Disturbs Meeting--They are Stricken with Death--Fatal
Sickness among the People--Lower Classes of Natives at a Feast--Their
Reverence for Religious Services and Preachers--Two Parties of Natives
in Battle Array--Fighting Averted by the Writer Addressing the
Contending Factions in Favor of Peace--Wars among the Natives--Some
of their Practices--Gathering and Keeping Human Heads--Causes of
Cannibalism--Conversation with one who had been a Cannibal--Flavor of
Native and White Men's Flesh Compared--The Tastiest Part of the Human


Hold Conference in Putuhara--Instructions to the Saints--Go to
Otapipi--Opposition at Temaraia--Officials Bribed by Catholic
Priests--Arrival of a French Warship--The Writer is Arrested while
Expounding the Scriptures to the Natives--Cause of Arrest is False
Accusation by Catholic Priests--I Plead Not Guilty--Ordered Taken
to Tahiti--Painful Prison Experience--Cannibals in Custody--Start
for the Ship--Sympathy of the Natives--Hurried into the Ship's
Boat--In a School of Whales--A Frightened Boat Load--On Board the
Warship--Uncomfortable Quarters--Questionable French Courtesy--Among
Cockroaches, Filth, and Inconveniences--Soft Side of a Plank for a Bed.


Voyage to Papeete--In a Tahitian Dungeon--Cruel Treatment--Write to
Friends--Kindness of the American Hotel Keeper--Brought Before the
Governor--False Charges Read, and Plea of Not Guilty Entered--Perjured
Testimony Against Me--Forbidden to Look at, or even Cross-Examine
Witnesses--Secrecy of the Alleged Trial--Demand My Rights as
an American Citizen--Confusion of the Governor--Returned to My
Cell--American Consul takes up my Case--Gives Bonds that I will Leave
the Protectorate--Elders and Friends Call on me--My Visitors Allowed to
Say but Little, and Sometimes Excluded--Decision of the Governor that I
must Leave the Society Islands--Fair Trial Refused me--Letter from the
American Consul--Taken to the Consul's Office--Advised to Leave--Elders
Decide that I should go Outside of the French Protectorate--Set Sail
from Papeete.


Leaving Tahiti under the Order of Banishment--Supply of Provisions
Exhausted--Caught in a Calm--Suffering from Lack of Food--Reach
Tubuoi--Go Ashore upon Invitation of the Queen--Sail for Raivavai--Meet
Elder Pratt There--Left Alone on the Island--Savage Character of the
Natives--The Governor a Friend--Visit from House to House--People
Generally Unwilling to Receive the Gospel--Council Decides that I must
Leave the Island or be Killed--A Time of Excitement--Storm Passes for
a while--Baptize Twenty Persons--Noted Chief and the Heiress to the
Throne Join the Church--More Bitterness and Excitement--Two Parties of
Natives Meet to Engage in Battle--Manage to Reconcile Them and Prevent
Bloodshed--Further Threats Against the Mormons--Some Church Members
feel to Retaliate but are Restrained--Passengers Arrive with False
and Scandalous Stories About the Mormons--Persecution Increases--The
Few Saints on the island Become Sorrowful and Discouraged--Protestant
Ministers Advise Expulsion of the Saints--Renewal of the Faith and Zeal
of the Church Members.


People Gather at a Feast, and to Decide what to do with the
Mormons--Threats to have Roast Missionary--Saints hold Prayer and
Testimony Meeting--Kept Awake all Night--Council of Natives Decides
to Roast and Eat me--Fire is Built--Men Sent to Drag me to the
Council--Promises of Presidents Brigham Young and Willard Richards Come
to my Mind--All Fear Is Banished--Saints and Their Enemies Ordered
to Separate--All but Two Mormons Stand by me--Sublime Courage of a
Native and His Wife--The Charge Against Me--I Appeal to the Bible, but
our Enemies Refuse to be Guided by the Law of God--Notified of the
Decision that I am to be Burned--Spirit of the Lord Rests upon me in
Great Power, Inspiring me to Defy our Enemies--Spirit of Confusion
Enters our Foes--They Quarrel and Fight With Each Other--Difficulty In
Restraining Church Members--Deliverance which the Lord Wrought out for
me--I am Allowed to proceed Unmolested--Meet a Member of the Council
which Condemned me to Death--His Testimony that a Pillar of Light
Descended from Heaven and Rested on me, Filling them with Fear--No more
Anti-Mormon Councils--Natives show no Disposition to Receive the Gospel.


Long time without News from Home--Letter from Elder B. F.
Grouard--Released from my Missionary Labors in the Islands--Little
Opportunity to Leave Raivavai--Natives Build a Schooner--Fast and
Pray to Learn whether I should sail on the Vessel--The Answer--Sail
for Rapia--Driven Back to Raivavai--Make a New Start--Arrive at
Rapia--Ridiculous Idea of the People Concerning a Mormon Elder--I am
Forbidden to go Ashore, on Pain of Death--Feeling is Modified Somewhat,
and I go Ashore--Battle Between the Natives--An Old Man Gives me
Food--Attend a Meeting, get Permission to Speak a Few Words and am
Ordered from the Island--Increase of Sentiment of Toleration--Invited
to Supper at the Governor's--Strange Custom of Women Waiting on
Men--Rather than Follow it, I Submit to being Called a Heathen.


Determine to Preach to the People--Refused a House--Hold an Open-Air
Meeting--Strange Congregation--Six other Meetings--Visit a Native
King--He Commands me to Leave--I do so In Order to Avoid Being Put
to Death--Watermelons and Other Vegetables--Native Tradition of the
Peopling of the Islands--Visit of a Protestant Minister--Sail for
Tahiti--In a Heavy Storm--Prayers by Frightened Natives--I am Asked to
Pray with them, but Decline to Follow their Methods--Reach the Harbor
of Papeete--American Consul Obtains Permission for me to Land--Go
to Work with a Carpenter--Warned not to be Alone lest I should be
Killed--Watched by Gen d'Armes--Trouble at Anaa, and Arrest of Native
Mormons--These are Brought to Papeete--How they got Letters to me, and
their Replies--My Former Persecutors of Raivavai Come to Me for Advice,
and I Return Good for Evil.


Watched Closely by Gen d'Armes--Experience when at Prayer--Take Dinner
with the Rev. Mr. Howe--Dining with a Catholic Bishop--Impatience
of the Governor--Leave Tahiti on the _Abyssinia_--Curiosity of
Passengers and Sailors--Difficulty in Getting out of the Harbor--Hear
of More Trouble at Anaa--Captain's comment on Mormon Books--A
Waterspout--Crossing the Equator--Encounter a Terrible Storm--A
Tidal Wave--Ship Springs a Leak--Panic on Board--All Hands to the
Pumps--Stopping a Leak--Fair Weather Again.


Arrive at San Francisco--A Wrecked Ship--The _Abyssinia_
Condemned--Gathering Wreckage--Drunken sailors--My Trunk Held for
Hospital Fees--Go Ashore, where all Is Changed and Strange--My
Dilapidated Appearance--Seek Guidance of the Lord--Wander
Almost in Despair--Meet an Old Friend--Find a Home--My Trunk
Released--Meet Elders Going on Missions--Well Treated by Saints and
Strangers--Providences of the Lord--Outward Bound Elders Entrusted
Money to me for their Families--Engage to Carry Mail to Los Angeles--On
a Steamer for San Pedro--Taken Severely Ill.


Become Desperately Ill--Nursed Back to Consciousness--Kindness
of an Aged Spanish Couple--Belt with Money Entrusted to me
Disappears--Intense Anxiety--Discover the Money--Great Suffering--Land
at San Pedro--Left on the Beach--Drag Myself to the Shelter of an Old
Wall--Kindness of a Spaniard and His Wife--A Terrible Night--Seek
a Passage to Los Angeles with Freighters--Refusals--Meet a Kind
Teamster--Reach Los Angeles--Dumped on the Street--Find Shelter, but
a Chilly Welcome--Start Next Morning, Sick and Hungry, to Find a New
Place--So Ill I have to Lie Down in the Street--Two Friends from San
Bernardino--Am Told that I have the Smallpox--My Friends Give me Money
and start in Search of a House where I can be Cared for--Failing to
Secure a Room, they Engage the City Marshal to get a Place, and they
Leave for San Bernardino--I wander for Shelter, but Doors are Closed,
and People Avoid me--Lodge in a Doctor's Office while the Doctor is
out--Scare the People by Shouting "Smallpox!"--The Doctor Returns but
Leaves me in Possession.


City Marshal and Doctor Come to Remove me--Taken to a Deserted House,
which had been Used as a Sheepfold--Bedded In Sheep Manure--An Indian
Nurse who Becomes Frightened--Spanish Nurse Sent to me--In a boat with
Patient Job--My Fever Increases--Attacked by Robbers--Relieved by
City Marshal with Posse--Marshal takes the Money I have in my care,
for Safe Keeping--Spanish Nurse Scared off--Queer Sailor Nurse--He
Drinks Whisky, Sings and Dances--His Thoughtful Care of me--Visited
by my Cousin--Kindness of San Bernardino Saints--Recovering from my
Illness--My Clothing Burned--Heavy Expense Bill Against me--Tell the
City Marshal of my Arrival in California as a United States Soldier in
the Mexican War--Kindness of the Marshal--Los Angeles Assumes the Bill
for Medical Attention Given me--Start for San Bernardino--Exhausted
on the Journey--Almost Die of Thirst--Relieved by a Party of Spanish
Ladies--Kindness of Spanish Families--Arrive at San Bernardino and Meet
Friends and Relatives


Report my Mission--Prepare to Continue the Journey to Utah--Have
to Remain at San Bernardino for a Time--Sickness among the
People--Instances of Healing by Administration--Engage to Travel
with a Pack Train to Salt Lake City--Get a "Bucking Mule"--Start on
the Journey--In a Hostile Indian Country--Signs of Danger--Prepare
for Trouble--Sudden Appearance of an Indian--Our Party Want to
Shoot--I Protest, and make Friends with the Indian--Other Red Men
Appear--Difficulty of Restraining our Party--I converse with the
Indians, who tell of a Camp of Mormons and Mexicans a short Distance
Ahead--How I Understood the Indians--Discover the Camp Spoken of--Rest
a Day--Move Toward the Santa Clara--Danger Ahead--A Fire Across our
Path--We Dash Through It--Hostile Indians--An Exciting chase--Meet
Apostles A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich--Arrive at Cedar City--Stop
at Parowan--Journey North, Preaching en Route--Reach Salt Lake
City--Settle with the People for whom I have Money--Report to President
Young--Preach In the Tabernacle--Released from my Mission--Cost of my
Mission to the Society Islands.


Travel on Foot to Ogden--Well Received by Relatives and
Friends--Reply to Inquiries by the People Regarding the Society
Islands and the Inhabitants Thereof--Called to go to Fort Hall
Order Countermanded--Called on a Mission to the Indians--Design of
the Mission--Organization of the Company, and Start from Salt Lake
City--Hard Work of the Journey--Attacked by Wolves--Fatal Duel at
Fort Bridger--Plans of Desperadoes--We go to Smith's Fork--Build
a Blockhouse--Arrival of More Men and Supplies--Threatening
Attitude of the Indians--Writer made Sergeant of the Guard and
Quartermaster--Instructions from Elder Orson Hyde--Life in our
new Camp--Cold Weather and Wild Beasts--Learning the Indian
Language--Give Shelter to Indians--Desperado Chief Killed by one of
his Men--Animals Perish from Cold and Starvation--Terrific Storms and
Snowdrifts--Saving our Stock--Shoshone Indians Ask for and Receive
Assistance--Hunt tor Antelope Falls--A Bachelor's Dance--Raising a
Liberty Pole--Partitioning out Lands--Plowing and Planting--Arrival of
and Instructions by Elder Orson Hyde--Selections for a Special Mission
to the Indians--Organization of Green River County.


Set Apart by Elder Hyde for our Special Mission--Blessing Conferred
on the Writer--Discontent In Camp--Unity Again Prevails--Start on our
Journey--Warned at Green River to go no Farther--Not Deterred from
Performing our Mission--Proceed on our Journey--Futile Chase after
Buffalo--Scarcity of Water--A Welcome Snow Storm--Reach the Camp of
Washakie, the Shoshone Chief--Received with Caution--Tell the Chief
the Object of our Visit--Give him Bread and Sugar--Boiled Buffalo for
an Epicure Indian Powwow Called--Proceedings at the Council--Objection
to one of our Propositions, which we were not Annoyed at--Recital of
how Government Agents Sought to Supplant Washakie as Chief--Washakie a
Great Orator.


Leave Washakie's Camp for the Other Portion of the Shoshone
Tribe--Indian Guide Leaves us--Following a Trail--Sight the Other
Camp--War Songs and Dances--Indians Preparing for War--Chief Gives
up his Lodge to us, Warning us of Men in his Camp he Cannot Control
--Indian Braves in War Paint--Surrounded by Fifteen Hundred or Two
Thousand Indians--Learn that L. B. Ryan, a White Desperado Chief, is
in Camp, and has sworn Vengeance on Mormons Escape seems Impossible,
but we Trust in God--Retire for the Night--Ryan and Seven Warriors
at our Lodge--Ryan Enters and Demands to know where we are from, and
our Business--He is Told, Threatens us, and Summons his Indian Braves
Inside our Lodge--Though the Enemy are two to one, we are Ready for
them--Prepare for a Fight to the Death--Ryan and his Men Leave the
Lodge, War Dance Outside--We Conclude to Sell our Lives as Dearly
as Possible--War Party Approach the Lodge and Slit it In a Number
of Places, then suddenly Depart--Our Lives being Spared, we Remain
in Camp till Next Day--The chief Befriends us, Warning us not to
Return the way we Came--Dispute as to the Route of Travel, and how
it is Settled--Satisfied that Ryan intended to Ambush us--Rainstorm
Obliterates our Tracks--Camp in the Rain--On the Alert for an
Enemy--Shoot a Buffalo--Ward and Davis give chase, while Bullock
and I continue on our Route--Camp at a ash--Bullock Taken very
Ill--A Terrible Night--Ward and Davis not Returning by Morning, we
Move on--Fear that Bullock will Die--Discover our Comrades in the
Canyon--Being Hungry, we Overeat--Another Night of Sickness--Emerge
from the Canyon--Press Forward to Green River--Welcomed by
Friends--Three of our Party go on to Fort Supply, and I Remain to meet
Chief Washakie.


Engaged as interpreter--Class of People at Green River--Appointed
Deputy Sheriff--Drover Threatens to Kill Boatmen Arrest Ordered--Ride
into the Outlaws' Camp--Bluffing the Captain--A Perilous Situation
--Parley with Drovers--Compromise Effected--Dealing with
Law-breakers--"Bill" Hickman as Sheriff Swimming Cattle Over Green
River--A Drover's Failure--Writer Employed to get Cattle Over--How it
is done Secret of Success--Arrival of Washakie--The Ferryman Offends
him--The Angry Indian Swears Vengeance on the White Man--His Parting
Threat--In Peril of an Indian Massacre.


Consternation at Washakie's Declaration--People Hurry across the
River--The Writer is Asked to Attempt a Reconciliation--Night too Dark
to Travel--Chief Washakie and Braves Appear at Sunrise--The Chief
notes that the People are Terror-Stricken, and Decides that he will be
their Friend--Troublous Exploits of Mountain Men--Sheriff's plan of
Arrest--How the Scheme Worked--Desperadoes Freed by the Court--Chasing
an Offender--Surrounded by his Associates--Coolness and Pluck of the
Sheriff Win--Ready to Return Home--A Trying Experience.


Go to Fort Supply--Start back to Green River and meet O.P. Rockwell
at Fort Bridger--He brings me a Trader's License, also Goods to Trade
to the Indians--Being Late in the Season, We Store the Goods, and go
to Salt Lake City--Receive the Approval of Governor Young--Move to
Ogden--Accompany Governor Young as Interpreter--My Horse Stolen--Called
on a Mission to the Shoshones--On going to Salt Lake City, I am
Released--Ordered to take part In Disarming Indians at Ogden--A
Difficult Job--Chase to Mound Fort--Hand-to-hand Struggle with a
Powerful Savage--Indians Disarmed, but Sullen--Chief's Brother Offers
all his Possessions for his Gun--Precautions Taken to Feed the Indians
that Winter--Teach the Indian Language in School--Prosper In Business.


Another Mission to the Indians--Start for the Shoshone
Camp--Difficulties of Travel--Near the Crows and Blackfeet--A Dream
gives Warning of Danger--Discover a Large Body of Indians--No
Opportunity of Escape--Ride into the Camp of a Hunting and War
Party--Meet chief Washakie--A Day's March--Situation Critical--Hold a
Council--Present the Book of Mormon--All but Washakie Speak Against us
and the Book--Awaiting the Chief's Decision.


Washakie's Bold Attitude--Tells his Councilors they are Fools--Says the
White Men, who are Wise, have Books--Tells the Tradition of how the
Indians fell into Darkness--Great Spirit Angry at the Red Man--Advocates
that the Indians live like White People--His Powerful Speech Gains the
Day for us--Shoshone Tradition--We Start Home--A Hungry Trip--Return to
the Indians, Finding them Sullen--Fourth of July Celebration at Fort
Supply--Return Home.


Affairs at Home--Start for Fort Supply--Illness of myself and
Family--Gift of Healing--Trouble with Indians at Fort Supply--Turbulent
Red Men--I Help one off my Bed--They Persist In Taking or Destroying
our Property--We Stop them--One Attempts to Kill me--Indians
Retire from the Fort--Almost a Conflict--I check the White Men
from Shooting--Indians Withdraw--We send to Governor Young for
Assistance--Our Stock and Guards Driven in--Indian Agent Appears with
Annuities--The Savages Submit--We Guard Day and Night--Indians more
Peaceful--Reinforcements Arrive from the Governor--Matters Quiet Down.


Start Home from Fort Supply--Camp alone at Needle Rook--Awakened by my
Horse--Surrounded by Wolves--Flash Powder all Night to keep off the
Wild Beasts--Reach Home--Supplies Short--Hardships of a Grasshopper
Year--Getting my cattle out of a Canyon--Perils of being Caught in the
Snow--Great Suffering--Breaking a Snow Road--Business Affairs.


Called on a Mission to Deep Creek Indians--Short Time for the
Journey--Prepare for the Trip--Journey in the Desert--Horses
Stolen--Travel on Foot--Saved from Perishing with Thirst--Meet the
Indians--Could Understand and Speak to them--Indian Agent's Offer--I
act as interpreter--Preach to the Indians--On the Return Trip--Visit
Governor Young with a Delegation of Bannock Indians.


Utah Militia Organized--Elected Captain of a Company--Hear of
Johnston's Army--Scouting Party sent out--I am Chosen as Guide--Travel
to the Bear Lake Country--Cold Nights and Little Food--Complaint in
the Party--Prove that I am Right--Reach Lost Creek--Some of the Men
Object to Double Guard--A Discovery that Removes all Objections--Strike
the Trail of Horsemen--Prepare for Action--Take a Camp by Surprise--The
Men are Friends--Arrive at Ogden--Called to go on an Important
Errand--Tussle with an Indian--Fail in Getting Desired Information, and
Return to Ogden.

Chapter LII.

Off on Another Scout--Again on Bear River--Dream of Seeing
Troops--Dream Fulfilled--Send Word back of Discovery--Five Hundred
Cavalrymen--Heavy Storm--My only Remaining Companion taken Ill--He
is Healed and I am Stricken Down--Camp in the Snow--My companion,
Expecting me to die, Prepares to take my Body Home--He Returns, Prays
for me and I am Healed--Stricken Down Again--I Direct him to Leave
me and Return Home--He obeys Reluctantly--I Expect to die--Peculiar
Experiences--Four Young Men, sent by my Comrade, come to my Relief--
Journey on--Lighting fire in a Storm--The Young Men Pray for me, and I
am Relieved--Traveling Homeward--Kind Treatment--Reach Ogden--Act as
Sexton--Guard over Spies--Utah Militia Recalled--Missionary Labors in
Weber County.


Mormons Abandon their Homes and Move South--Prepare for the Worst--Go
to Payson--Affairs Being Settled, Return to Ogden---Called to go
East as a Missionary--Journey across the plains--Meet my Parents In
Iowa--Preaching and Traveling--My Father's Testimony--Missionary
Labors--Called to Missouri--Sent to bring a Herd of Cattle--Return to
my Parents' Home--Bid Farewell to Them--Purchasing Cattle.


Given Charge of a Company to Cross the Plains to Utah--Composition
of the Camp--Start West--Perform Baptisms--Meet a War Party of
Sioux Indians--Place where A. W. Babbitt was Killed--Meet More
Indians--How Trouble was Avoided--Camp Life and Duties--Enter Salt Lake
Valley--Company Greeted by the Church Authorities--Report to President
Young and am Released--Trade at Camp Floyd--Experience with a Thief--Go
to Work on the Ogden Canyon Road--Hardships Endured.


Called on a Mission to Great Britain--Prepare to Depart--Start Without
Purse or Scrip--Journey to Salt Lake City--Set Apart for the Mission
--Begin the Journey Eastward--Organization of the Company--My Post as
Chaplain--Overtaken by Apostles A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich--Traveling
Through the Mountains--Snowstorms and Wind--Forage is Scarce--Meetings
with the Indians--Captain Reynolds' Exploring Party--Army Deserters in
our Camp--Mail from Home--Emigrants Westward Bound--Dissatisfaction
In Camp--Feeling about Apostles Lyman and Rich--I Resign as Captain,
but am Elected again, and Finally Resume Command--Mail Robbery--More
Disagreeable Storms--Meet a Handcart Company and Apostle George Q.
Cannon--Reach the Missouri River--Visit my Father and his Family--Go to
St. Joseph, Missouri--My first View of a Railway Train--At my old Home
in Brown County, Illinois--Journey Eastward by Rail--Arrive in New York
for the First Time--Find Friends.


Visit Various Places of Interest in New York and Vicinity--Arrival
of the Great Eastern--Preach at Williamsburg--New York's Celebration
of the Fourth--My Thirty-second Birthday--Secure Passports and Ocean
Passage--Crowded in the Steerage--Foggy and wet Weather--View of the
Irish Coast--Fleet of British Warships--Land in Liverpool--Assigned
to Birmingham Conference--In Birmingham--Listen to an Anti-Mormon
Lecture--Visiting from House to House as a Mormon Missionary--Places
of Interest--Transferred to Nottingham Conference--Preaching and
Visiting--Mission Travels--Go to London--See Notable Places--News of my
Daughter's Death--Birth of Another Daughter--Return to Nottingham.


Again at Missionary Labors--Baptisms--Become Quite Ill--Appointed
President of the Nottingham District, Embracing three
Conferences--Visited by Apostles A. M. Lyman, C. C. Rich and
Others--Settling Differences among Church Members--Attend a
Phrenological Lecture--Get a Chart--Go to Liverpool--In Conference
at Nottingham--My Pastorate Enlarged--Witness a Military
Review--More Baptisms--Visit Sheffield--Fixing my Name--Poverty in
Nottingham--Invited to take a Trip to Paris--Go to London--Have to
give up the Visit to France--In Poor Health--Return to Nottingham--See
Professor Blondin.


Prolonged Illness--Attend to my Duties with Difficulty--Letter Telling
of the Battle of Bulls Run--Witness an Execution by Hanging--Visit
from George Q. Cannon, Joseph F. Smith and Others--Death of the
Prince Consort--Go to Birmingham--Conference of the Priesthood In the
British Mission--Large Meeting In Odd Fellows' Hall, Birmingham--Again
at Nottingham--Visit Liverpool--Consult a Physician, but get little
Relief--See the Liverpool Grand National Races--Depravity Among Poorer
Classes in Liverpool--Again at Nottingham--Released to Return Home--Bid
the People Farewell--Display of their Affection for me--Report of my
Labors Published in the Millennial Star--On Board Ship--Placed in
Charge of the Company--Sail for America--Driven by Headwinds along
the Coasts of the Isle of Man, Wales, Ireland and Scotland--Severe
Seasickness--Get to Sea--Slow Voyage--Deaths and Burials at sea--Land
at New York--Guest of Hon. W. H. Hooper--Journey to Florence,
Nebraska--Captain and Guide of Independent Company--Reach Salt hake
City--Report to President Young--Again at Home.


Remove from Ogden to Salt Lake City at the Request of President
Young--Necessity for Preaching among the Saints--In the Employ of
President Young--On Another Mission, this time in Utah---Preaching
and Lecturing--Build a House--Go to the Canyon to get Finishing
Lumber--Shot in Mistake for a Bear--My Wound very Serious--Taken to
Wanship to Receive Care--My Family Notified and Surgical Assistance
Obtained--Moved to my Home--In Bed Nine Months--Two Surgical
Operations--Grow Stronger--Employed at the Warm Springs--Dr.
Robinson--Abscesses in my Wounded Limb--Out of Employment--Go to the
California line to Examine a Gold Prospect--Perilous Journey--Indians
on the Warpath--Remarkable experience with a Band of Savages--Gift of
Speaking their Language--Unable to work the Gold Claim Because of Lack
of Water--Return to Salt Lake City--Go to the Gold Discoveries on the
Sweetwater--Discover a Placer claim--An Attempt to Rob me of It--Bush
for a Mine--Hold the Claim--Assailed by Hostile Indians--A Race for
Life--Three Men Killed--We Abandon Camp--Suffer with my Lame Limb--Lose
the Mining Claim--Hauling Coal and Produce--Almost Die--Confined to Bed
for Months--Amputation of my limb to save my Life--Recovery--Attend to
my Nursery--Advent of the Railway--Traveling and Preaching--A Slight


Called on a Mission to the United States--Journey Eastward--Visit
Relatives en Route--Reach New York--Measured for an Artificial
Limb--How It was Paid for--Visit and Preach--Meet Poor
Encouragement--Go to Boston--World's Peace Jubilee--Bunker Hill--Again
at New York--Released to Return Home--Back in Utah--Traveling and
Preaching--Sent for by President Young--Called on a Mission to
Arizona--Directed to Furnish Names of Others--Send the List--President
Young adds other Names--Set Apart for our Mission--Difficult to Collect
Money due me--Leave my Family Poorly Provided for but Trusting In the
Lord--Placed In Charge of the Mission--Letter of Instructions--Start
South--People Contribute Liberally--Traveling in Storm--Arrive at
Kanab--In Arizona--A Hard Journey--Marriage of my Daughter--Reach Lee's
Ferry on the Colorado--Crossing the River--Reach Moencoppy Wash--Decide
to Winter There--Explore the Vicinity--Meet Friendly Indians--Building
a House--Exploring the Little Colorado--A Difficult Trip--Description
of the Route--Find a Place for Another Settlement--San Francisco
Mountains--Fine Forest Growth--Caught in Deep Snow--Through with a
Perilous Journey--Decide to Return to Salt Lake City and Report--Heavy
Snow--Trip Homeward--Cordially Greeted by President Young--With my


Attend Meetings with the First Presidency and Apostles--More
Missionaries called to Arizona--Many Inquiries Regarding the
Mission--Outline the Route--Preparations for Travel--Start
South--Aided by Contributions--Reach Moencoppy--Meet Lot Smith
and Company--Baptisms--Start for the Little Colorado River--Guide
Missionary Companies to the Place we had Selected for Settlement--Lot
Smith Refuses to Acknowledge my Appointment from President Young
as President of the Mission--He Assumes Leadership of the new
Settlement--I Return with my Party to Moencoppy--Other Companies of
Missionary Settlers sustain my Presidency--My Health is Poor--Settlers
Discouraged--Cheer them up--Work of Frontier Life--Succor a Company
whose Water Supply is Exhausted--Taking up Land--Make a Long
Exploring Trip--Introduce Book of Mormon to Navajos--Return to
Moencoppy--Indians Dissatisfied--Go to Salt Lake City with a Delegation
of Navajo Chiefs--Their Supposed Grievances Settled--Tell President
Young I have come Home to Stay--He Sends me out Again--Directed to
Procure Volunteers--Letter of Instructions--Lecture, and take up
Contributions--Return Home--My Family Ill--Provide Supplies for
Them--Conditions Improve.


Again in Arizona--Settling Difficulties Among the People--Our
Reservoir Bursts--News of Notable Events--Prepare to Repel an
Indian Raid--Indians Quarrel, and the Trouble Passes Over--Funeral
at Moencoppy--Exploring Trip to the Southeast--A White Indian
Child--Meet the Head Chief of the Navajos--His Address, and
Proposition to Accompany me to Salt Lake City--Agree on a Date for
the Journey--Continue my Trip Over into New Mexico, then Return to
Moencoppy--Accusation Against me Disproved--Indians Gather to go to
Salt Lake City--Make the Trip--At President Young's Deathbed--Visit
the Indians--Honorable Release from my Mission--Resume Home Missionary
Labors--In Prison for Conscience Sake.


Visited by President Joseph F. Smith--Called on Another Mission to the
Society Islands--Prepare To Respond--A Blessing by Apostle Lorenzo
Snow--Appointed to Preside over the Society Islands Mission--Attempts
to Discourage me from Undertaking the Journey--Surprise Party by my
Children--Farewell Reception In the Ward Hall--Start on my Mission,
Accompanied by my Son and Others who had been Called--Voyage to
Tahiti--Madman on Board the Vessel--At Marquesas Islands Strange
Characters--Tattooed White Man--His Peculiar Career--Catching Sharks
--Arrive at Papeete--My Reception There--Meet Native Josephite
Preachers, who seem Confused--Elders from Utah Greet us--in Poor Health.


First Sabbath in Tahiti--Meet Several Persons whom I Knew over
Forty Years Before--How they Remembered me--Seek Permission to hold
Public Meetings--Widow of my Old Friend, John Layton, Calls on
me Other Friends--Preach to the Josephites--Governor Refuses to
Permit us to Hold Public Meetings--Get Advice of the United states
Consul--A Lawyer's Counsel--Josephites tell of B. F. Grouard--I
Explain how he had Turned into the wrong Path--The Church Never
Disorganized--Missionary Labors--Greeting a French Admiral--Early
Missionaries to Tahiti--Their Severe Experiences--Sixty-fourth
Anniversary of my Birth--Learn of Mormons who were Hanged for
Having Killed a Policeman in the Trouble when I was Arrested on
my First Mission to the Islands--Meet a Native of Pitcairn's
Island--His Story--Visit Tautila--Severe Voyage--A Baptism--Sail for
Tubuoi--Among Strangers Celebration of a French Fete Day--Dine with
the Governor--People Become less Unfriendly to us--Breaking of the
Clouds--Baptize Twenty-four Persons--Encouraging Results of Missionary


Miraculous Healing--Meet and Confound the Josephites--Further
Missionary Success--Meet a Native who was Present when I was
Sentenced to be Burned--Elder John Layton's Grave--Arrange to Return
to Tahiti--Disappointed--Preach a Funeral Sermon--Forbidden to Hold
Public Meetings--Blind Woman one Hundred and Twenty Years Old Her
Testimony--Administer to her for her Eyesight, and she Is Enabled to
see a Little--She Praises the Lord--Preaching and Baptizing--Sail
for Papeete--An odd Cargo--Hard Voyage--Held by a Calm--Land on
Tahiti--Sail for Avaroa--On a Well-ordered Schooner--Call at Various
Islands--Lance a Carbuncle--Christmas Day at Sea--Watermelons--A
Beautiful Residence and Cordial Welcome--Perform Three Marriage
Ceremonies--Conference of Saints in the Tuamotu Islands--Meet a Native
Chilean--Visit Various Places--Public Welcome--Fishing--On the Island
of Anaa--Visit Where I was Imprisoned--Graves of those Concerned In
the Trouble Then--Warrant Served on me--Summoned to the Government
House--Warned Against Creating a Disturbance.


Preaching and Visiting--Pearl Fishing--Place of my Arrest in
1851--Accident to a Young Man--Incident with the Governor of Anaa--See
a Leper--Capture of an Eel--Conference on Anaa--Time of Dedication
of Salt Lake Temple--Specially Interesting Meetings--New Elders from
Utah--Start back to Tahiti--Another Funeral Sermon--Meet the French
Governor of the Tuamotu Islands--His Cordial Greeting--Arrive at
Papeete--Appointments for the New Missionaries--Fall to get a Passage
to Tubuoi--My Health Very Poor--Learn of the Dedication of the Salt
Lake Temple--Elders Unanimous in the Decision that I should Return Home
Because of my Illness--I Demur--Conclude to go--Trouble on Anaa--My
Sixty-fifth birthday--Notable Kindness of a Native child--Sail from
Papeete--Difficulty In Landing from Small Boats--In the Society
Islands--Reach San Francisco--Arrive in Salt Lake City--Report the
Successful Opening of the Society Islands Mission.


Invited To the Midwinter Fair, San Francisco, and Accept--Journey to
California--Kind Treatment Received--An Honored Guest--Write a Pamphlet
on the Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill Race--First Accurate Account
Published--Again at Home--Preparing my Autobiography for Publication--A
Great Task--Progress of the Work--My History of the First Mission to
the Pacific Islands--Utah's Semi-Centennial Jubilee--Not a Utah Pioneer
of 1847--Pioneer Just the Same--Mormon Battalion Recognized in the Utah
Celebration--Invited to join In the Parade--Comparative Narrowness of
Committee's Courtesy--Letters from California Regarding the Pioneer
Celebration there in 1898--Invited with three Others of the Mormon
Battalion, to be Special Guests as the Survivors of the Party that
Discovered Gold In California in 1848--Appreciation of the Courtesy
Extended by Californians.


Trip to California--Met by the Committee on Reception of the Society
of California Pioneers--Received with Great Cordiality--Honored Guests
at California's Golden Jubilee--The Celebration--Courtesies Extended
to Mormon Battalion Members Present at the Discovery of Gold--Return
Home--Resolutions by Society of California Pioneers--Report of
Reception committee of California Golden Jubilee--Sketch of
Marshall's Surviving Companions--Complete my Autobiography--My Son
Homer Accidentally Killed--The Old Folks--Publication of Life of a


Portrait of James S. Brown

Fire Prepared to Roast the Missionary--Sentenced to Death

A Typical Tahitian with his Burden of Bread Fruit and Feii

A War Party of Shoshones Dancing around their Prisoners while in the
Chief's Lodge

Surrounded by a Pack of Hungry Wolves

Chased By a War Party

Marquesas Fire Dancers





THE subject and author of this Life-Sketch of a Pioneer is James
Stephens Brown, now (1900) in his seventy-second year, a resident of
Salt Lake City, Utah, his home less than a quarter of a mile from and
within the summer morning's shadow of the majestic Temple of the Lord
erected on that spot which he beheld a barren and desolate wilderness,
on his entrance into the valley of the Great Salt Lake, over half a
century ago. His life has been one of thrilling experiences--more than
ordinarily falls to the lot even of a pioneer settler in the Great
West--a life in which hardship and perils by sea and land, among dusky
savages and with white men, have contributed largely to the events
of his career; withal one in which he has had abundant occasion to
recognize and acknowledge the power and protecting care of an Almighty

It is at the urgent request and advice of valued friends, familiar
to a considerable extent with my life and labors, that I place this
autobiography in form to be easily accessible to those desirous of
perusing it; and I am not unmindful of the fact that this simple
recital of events is not only of intense interest in numerous episodes
which it records, but is of historic value in being a plain and
truthful narrative of the personal experiences of a western pioneer.

I was born on Independence Day, July 4, 1828, in Davidson County, North
Carolina, U.S.A. My father was Daniel Brown; he was the youngest son
of his father's family, and was born in Rowan County, North Carolina,
June 30, 1804. My father's father was James Brown, a native of Rowan
County, North Carolina, 1757 being the year of his birth. His wife
was the widow of a Revolutionary War soldier named Emerson, who was
killed in the war for American independence, leaving his wife and
two children, Margaret and John Emerson. My grandfather James Brown
married the widow Emerson, who bore him nine children--three sons and
six daughters--Jane, Polly, Nancy, Susan, Patsy, William, Obedience,
James (captain of Company C, Mormon Battalion), and Daniel (my father);
her maiden name was Mary Williams. All the family had an excellent
reputation, being upright, thrifty, and good and industrious citizens.

With these introductory remarks, I will proceed to an account of my
boyhood's days. I was reared at the farming and stock business, also
at getting out saw timber and wood for cooperware. My parents had
moved from North Carolina to Brown County, Illinois, in the autumn of
1831, and had purchased an extensive tract of land. We were a large
family; the country was then wild and with very few inhabitants, and
the climate was unhealthy; so it was with great effort that father and
mother succeeded in making a home and gathering about them the comforts
of life.

We were frontier settlers, and while father had his pick of land, he
also had the hardships and privations of a new country to endure. There
were no churches or schoolhouses nearer than ten miles from our home,
and grist mills and blacksmith shops were equally distant. Thus the
family was reared without the advantage of schools, or of church-going
religious training. But we were thoroughly acquainted with border
life, with hunting, fishing, and all the sports indulged in by hardy
pioneers, and even learned to shake terribly from the ague, and burn
with fever spells, while we were well dosed with quinine and calomel,
and had enormous doctor's bills to pay.

In our operations we trained horses and cattle to work, stocked our own
plows, made our own harrows, rakes and forks, braided our own whips
from the pelts of wild beasts which we ourselves dressed, raised our
own honey, and made our own sugar, with some to sell. We had a good
sugar orchard, and plenty of wild fruits and nuts for the gathering. As
the first settlers of new countries are more or less subject to dangers
from outlaws, wild beasts, and savage men, we found it important to be
well armed, and on the alert day and night to defend life and liberty.

Thus we learned the use of firearms and the tomahawk. My father was
an expert with the old Kentucky rifle, and some of his boys were not
far behind him; he trained them always to shoot with a rising sight,
to keep cool, and always to have their powder dry and plenty of it. He
also taught us to tell the truth, and used to say: "Be honest, stand up
for your rights, and fight for your country and friends."

In the year 1835, people began to settle in around us, and then the
circuit riders, as they were called--the ministers--commenced to call
around and hold meetings in private houses. There were Baptists,
Freewill Baptists, Methodists, Campbellites, and others. From 1836 to
1838 some small churches and schoolhouses were built, so that we began
to get spiritual food, such as it was; and also some schooling, with
the benefit of the hickory rod that always was kept "in soak," so to
speak, and woe to the unruly student when it was called into service!

So far as the author is concerned, he managed to get along without the
rod the short time he was permitted to attend school. He was kept close
at work on the farm in summer, and in the winter months was engaged
getting out timber and hauling to market the farm products. Once his
feet were frozen so that he lost every nail from his toes. As to the
religious teachings of the time, there was a great deal of thundering
and thundering, but it failed to indicate any lightening of the
author's path, for he fished and hunted on the Sabbath day, just the

Some time in the '30s we began to hear a little about false prophets, a
new religion, miracles, money-diggers, thieves, liars, miracle-workers,
deceivers, witches, speaking in tongues and interpretation of the same,
walking on the water, and visits from angels. As time went on, all
these things were combined to form a grand excuse for raising mobs to
expel the new Church from the borders of civilization. Then came news
of murder, rapine, house-burning, and destruction of towns and cities
in Missouri. There were great "showers" of stars in the firmament
about this time. On popular rumor, and from hearing only one side of
the story, almost everybody decided that such a previously unheard-of
people as the Mormons ought to be shot or burned at the stake. This was
the sentiment to be found on every hand.

As a culmination of these things came the tidings that the Missourians
had driven the Mormons from the state of Missouri into Illinois. A
little later, and a Latter-day Saint Elder named Jacob Pfoutz entered
the neighborhood of my Uncle James Brown's home, converted him, his
wife, and several of the neighbors. This Elder was brought down by my
uncle to see his two sisters, Aunts Polly and Nancy Brown.

Elder Pfoutz was given permission to preach in the schoolhouse about
three miles from my father's house. The news spread like a prairie fire
that the Mormons had come and would preach on Friday. I think this was
in the autumn of 1840. I was at my aunt's at the time, and decided to
go and hear the strange preacher. Like most of the people, I went out
of curiosity, more than anything else. I had just turned my twelfth
year, and had begun to take some interest in religion, going to every
meeting for which I could obtain permission from my parents, yet not
thinking for a moment but that all religions were right.

At the first meeting held by the Mormon, the house was pretty well
filled. Some who attended did so with the thought that after the
services were over they would tar and feather the Elder and ride him on
a rail, as such things had been indulged in in Missouri, and threats
had been made freely. Others were going to confound him, and still
others wanted to see the fun, as they said.

The preacher was a plain-spoken man of thirty-five to forty years old,
of German descent. He was plainly dressed, and without that urbane
polish which ministers usually have. When he began his discourse,
he raised up very calmly and deliberately and read from Matthew,
seventh chapter, verses fifteen to twenty. He spoke from that text
and corroborating passages, supporting his argument throughout by
scripture. At the conclusion of his address, some of the people said
they did not want to mob a man who preached like that, while others
"sniffed" their noses and tried to get up a sneering laugh, but failed.
The Elder was invited to my aunt's house and was granted permission to
preach on Sunday in their oak-grove, while several of the religiously
inclined followed him to his stopping place and plied him with

As to myself, it seemed that I had not only heard it thunder, but I
had seen the lightning and felt it through every fibre of my system,
from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. I was revived as
the showers of heaven revive the parched earth and impart life to
the languishing vegetation. Notwithstanding the fact that I knew
the Latter-day Saints, or Mormons, were looked upon as filth, in
fact as even worse than rubbish, that they had been called the very
off-scourings of the earth, that they were regarded as deserving to be
put to death, yet from that very day I received their doctrine in or by
the spirit.

Now that sixty years have rolled by since the events here narrated;
that I have passed through mobbings, robbings, fines and penalties;
have been banished and once sentenced to death; Paul-like have fought
with wild beasts, have been shipwrecked and almost starved; have
famished on thirsty deserts; have had the scalping-knife wielded over
my head while the Indian warwhoop saluted my ears and the savage
warrior danced with tomahawk in hand, exulting over the victim intended
to be slain and scalped in trophy of victory; have laid in dungeons
for my religion's sake--thanks be to God that I yet live and bear a
faithful testimony of the truth and spirit that possessed my soul from
that first Gospel sermon I ever heard. I have listened to ministers of
various Christian denominations advocate good and virtuous principles,
but I never knew any of them to preach the fullness of the Gospel of
the Lord Jesus as did that humble Mormon Elder.



FROM the very day my parents entertained the Latter-day Saint Elders in
their house my former playmates in the neighborhood commenced a crusade
on me, calling me a Mormon, and many hard names, whenever they met me.
When we gathered at the mill pond, our usual place of bathing, they
would baptize me, as they called it, in the name of Beelzebub; but I
called it drowning, for it seemed to me that when three or four of them
got me under the water they never knew when to let me up. Then when I
got out of the water they would mockingly "lay hands" on me in the name
of Beelzebub, going through a ceremony and at short intervals calling
"Pluck," when they would pull my hair with a severe twitch, and would
spit on me and laugh. Once my clothes were taken and thrown into a bed
of itching nettles, and when I tried to get them out with a pole I was
pushed in among the nettles. At the gristmill, also, they would punish
me in a shameful manner. At last I became so provoked that I went after
them with a strong jack-knife. Though some of them were eighteen or
nineteen years old, they ran off, fully convinced that I would have
hurt them if I could have caught them. The miller interposed and gave
them a severe reprimand. From that time they never tried to punish
me. My medicine had worked well, and thereafter I was looked on as a
leading boy among them.

During this period I had some perilous experiences with wild animals.
My father had a pet deer, and a bulldog owned by the family caught
it by the nose; I tried to get the dog off, when the frightened
deer kicked and tore my clothes almost off, lacerating my flesh
considerably. Soon after this the deer was followed, in the woods near
the house, by a large buck, which my father shot. The animal's shoulder
was broken, and I followed it to the millpond and sprang into the water
to hold it. As I seized its horn the buck, which had a footing, threw
me around, lacerating my left hand considerably. For a time my life
was in peril from the wild animal, but I struggled and finally used my
pocket knife on its throat. Some time after this episode a man named
John Bos shot and wounded a big buck near our home. It being night, he
came to the house for assistance, and father and I went out. The dogs
reached the buck, which charged on them, and as it was seized by the
nose by one of them father and I caught the buck's hind feet. It kicked
us free, and I had a close call from being severely if not fatally
hurt; but we returned to the attack, and finally secured the game.

As time went on the older people in our neighborhood took interest in
the Mormon Elders, and some of them joined the new Church, while others
became very intolerant and hostile. My parents and my eldest brother
and sister united with the Mormons; yet I held back, for though fully
in sympathy with what my relatives had done I did not consider myself
worthy to join, for I thought that to be a church member I must have
some great experience and see great lights, such as I had heard people
testify of. Thus I stayed out and watched developments.

Finally, in July, 1844, the news reached us that the Prophet Joseph
Smith and his brother Hyrum, the Patriarch, had been assassinated
in Carthage jail by a mob; also, that the Mormons had been ordered
to leave the state, and were going either to the Rocky Mountains,
California, or Vancouver Island. In fact, there were many kinds of
rumors afloat, and there was great excitement.

In the fall of 1845 permission was given me to go to a river town five
miles from home, to work at a slaughter and packing house, where my
cousin, Homer Jackson, and I got employment that season. We heard that
the Mormons were going to start west the next spring--in fact, their
purpose was a topic of frequent conversation. We returned home in the
latter part of January, 1846, and soon learned that the Church leaders
were leaving Nauvoo for a new home in the unknown western wilds, and
that every true Mormon was expected to join them as soon as possible.

Shortly after this, father called a family meeting to consider what
to do. It was a great venture to start out with a large family on
a journey of a thousand miles or more into an unknown wilderness,
among savage tribes; so after long discussion of the matter, it was
decided to be too great an undertaking at that particular time. It was
regarded as inadvisable to take the chances of starving to death in the
wilderness. Besides, property was very low, and it was folly to sell
out a good home at so great a sacrifice as seemed necessary.

When this decision was reached, father turned to me and said: "Well,
Jimmy, what do you think about it?" I answered that where the Mormons
went I would go, and where they died I would die. This was the first
time I had been asked a question, and as I was not a member of the
Church my reply surprised the others. Being inquired of as to how I
would go, I suggested that perhaps someone wanted a teamster, or maybe
there was some widow who would take a boy for his labor in return
for food and clothing. Father asked if I would leave the family and
go out west and starve; and he suggested that as I did not belong to
the Mormons they would not have me. To this I said I would join them,
and that my mind was made up to go with the Mormons at all hazards.
Then father ordered me to keep quiet, saying he would thrash me if I
talked of leaving home. This closed the discussion, for in those days
thrashing was the great panacea for disobedience, whether at home or
in the school room. But that threat clinched my resolve to go with the
Mormons even at the risk of life, for I was thoroughly satisfied of the
justice of their cause.

I said no more then, but at the first opportunity told my mother that
soon I would come up missing, as I was going with the Mormons, and
should hide if searched for, if I had to go among the Indians. Mother
said I would starve, but my reply was that I could live on what others
did. My mother was convinced that I would go, and her mother's heart
was as so touched that she could not withhold my secret from my father,
who believed, too, that I would do as I had said.

One evening, soon afterward, I overheard them talking of the matter.
Father said it would break up the family if they did not move west, for
Jim certainly would go; they were satisfied that the Mormon doctrines
were true, and thought that perhaps they had better make an effort to
sell out and move. My heart was filled with joy at these words.

When morning came, father set out to buy oxen, and was successful. He
also sold his farm but reserved the crop, as he had to wait till after
harvest for part of his pay for the land. He thought that by fitting
out two good teams, and providing wagons and tools, he and Alexander
Stephens (mother's brother) and two of his sisters (old maids), and
myself could go out into Iowa, where we could put in some corn and
build a cabin or two. Then my uncle and I could do the rest while
father returned, took care of the harvest, and brought up the family,
when we would follow the Church as best we could until a resting place
was found.

The way now seemed open. My father felt encouraged, and all went well
until a few days before the time for starting, when I was stricken down
with fever and ague, and shook or chilled every other day till the
first of May, at which time all was ready for moving. Efforts were made
to persuade me that I could not stand the journey, but should allow one
of the other boys to go in my stead. But I could not see it in that
light. While father was talking of the matter to mother I overheard
him say, "We will have to let James go, for he will not be satisfied
without, but he will get enough of it when he has had a few days, and
has camped out and shaken a few times with the ague." I thought to
myself, "You are mistaken, father, for I would rather die than be left



MAY 1st, 1846, was a pleasant day, and we made our start for Nauvoo,
passing through Versailles to a point some ten miles from home to the
first night's camp. I was encouraged to think I had kept so well, but
about ten o'clock the second day I began to shake, and my teeth fairly
to crack. I prayed earnestly to the Lord to heal me. I was quite weak,
and all thought me very sick. But that was the last "shake" I had, for
I began to get well from that time.

It was on May 4th, I believe, that we reached Nauvoo, having passed
through Mount Sterling, the county seat of Brown County, also through
Carthage, where the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother the Patriarch
Hyrum Smith had been assassinated. We found the roads so muddy and such
hard traveling that we did not make more than fifteen miles a day. When
we came in sight of the Temple at Nauvoo our hearts were filled with
mingled joy and sorrow--joy that we had seen the Temple of the Lord,
and sorrow that the Saints had been so cruelly driven from it.

As we passed through the city we saw many houses which had been
abandoned--indeed, the city itself seemed almost deserted. At some of
the houses stood covered wagons, into which people were packing goods
preparatory to their flight into the wilderness, they knew not where.

Looking westward across the great Mississippi River, we saw long trains
of wagons strung out over the high rolling prairie. The country was
new, and the roads muddy, so we rested three or four days, visiting the
Temple and viewing the city that was beautiful for situation, but now
was left with few inhabitants. Everything in and about the city that
formerly hummed with industry and life was now lonely, saddened, and
forlorn, and silent but for the preparations for flight by the remnant

About the 8th of May we crossed the great "father of waters" and
joined the "rolling kingdom" on its westward journey. We found friends
and acquaintances, made up a company of our own, and passed and were
repassed on the trip. Climbing an eminence from which we looked east
and west, covered wagons could be seen as far as the eye could reach.
The teams were made up of oxen, milch cows, two-year-old steers and
heifers, and very few horses and mules. The teamsters were of both
sexes, and comprised young and old. The people who could walk did so,
and many were engaged in driving loose stock.

Hundreds of teams stuck in the mud, and we had to double-up and help
one another out. Many times we had to wade in mud half to our knees and
lift our wagons out of the mire. In this the women not infrequently
would join their husbands and sons, and the old adage came true in
numerous instances--women for a dead lift; when they plunged into the
mud and put their shoulders to the wheels the men were urged to do
double effort, and the wagon always rolled out and onward, at the rate
of twelve to fifteen miles per day.

At every creek we found campers, some repairing wagons, yokes, chains,
etc., doctoring sick cattle, washing clothes, or helping forward
friends whose teams were weak. In all this there was excellent order,
for the camps were organized in a general way by tens, fifties and
hundreds. Peace and harmony prevailed all along the line. Evening
prayers were attended to in each camp. There was much singing, mostly
of sacred hymns or sentimental songs; and from no quarter could coarse
songs be heard. Sometimes the camp would meet in a sociable dance in
the evenings, to drive dull care away; and then there always was good
order and the most perfect friendship and peace.

The camps were instructed not to kill game of any kind to waste its
flesh; they were not even to kill a snake on the road, for it was their
calling to establish peace on earth, and good will toward man and
beast. Thus all went on in peace and order.

At one of the headwaters of the Grand River, Iowa, we found some
hundreds of people putting in gardens and field crops (corn and
potatoes). A few cabins had been built, so father and our party decided
to stop there. We put in a few acres of corn and garden stuff, then
father returned to Illinois to bring up the rest of the family, leaving
my Uncle Alexander Stephens and myself to look after the crop and
stock, which we did faithfully.

About the 6th of July we heard that President Young and several of the
Twelve Apostles had returned from the most advanced companies, and
that there would be a meeting held at the white oak grove--the usual
place of meeting--the next day. There was also a rumor in camp that a
government recruiting officer had come to enlist volunteers, for the
United States had declared war against Mexico.

Of course this latter tidings was a great surprise, as the Mormons had
been denied protection against mob violence and had been forced beyond
the borders of civilization in the United States, and our camps were
stretched out in an Indian country, from the Mississippi River to the
Missouri. Surprised as we were at the government's demand, we were
still more so to think that our leaders would entertain for a moment
the idea of encouraging compliance therewith. Yet rumor said that
President Young and the prominent men with him had come as recruiting
officers as well.

All who could be spared from the tents went eagerly to the White Oak
grove, and there learned that the rumors were true. The United States
government demanded that a battalion of five hundred men be raised
by the Mormon Church, then fleeing from mob violence for the want of
protection by that government whose right and duty it was to protect
them. The men of the moving camp were required to leave their families
in the wilderness, almost unprotected, and go to a foreign land to
fight their country's battles.

But wonders never cease. The leading men among the Mormons--Brigham
Young, Heber C. Kimball, Wilford Woodruff, and others of the Twelve
Apostles--stood before the people and called for volunteers to engage
in the Mexican war, saying that the five hundred men must be raised if
it took the whole strength of the camp to do it. If the young men would
not enlist, the middle-aged and old men would, said President Young;
the demand of our country should be met if it took the Twelve Apostles
and the High Priests.

At the close of the meeting there were many who were enthused, while
others appeared confused and did not seem to catch the spirit of
the matter. I was not yet a member of the Church, but all the old
stories of the war of the Revolution and that of 1812, with the later
Black Hawk Indian wars, brightened in my memory so that the spirit
of the patriots awoke within me, and although I was averse to war
and bloodshed, I had a desire to serve my country in any legitimate
way. Yet I felt that, as I was under age, and, as my Uncle Alexander
Stephens had decided to enlist, the responsibility of my father's
affairs now rested on me.

My uncle and I were standing by the roadside talking over the
situation, when along came Ezra T. Benson, who had been recently
selected as one of the Twelve Apostles; there also came Richmond
Louder, one of my associates from boyhood, and Matthew Caldwell.
Richmond Louder and I had talked previously of being baptized together.
He said they were going down to attend to that sacred ordinance, and
invited me to accompany them, which I did gladly. We went to the south
fork of the Grand River, and with Uncle A. Stephens as a witness were
baptized. This was on the 7th of July, 1846. Then we went to the house
of General Charles C. Rich, where we were confirmed, I think under the
hands of Elders Willard Richards and Ezra T. Benson, in the presence of
President Brigham Young and others of the Twelve Apostles.

This done, the happiest feeling of my life came over me. I thought I
would to God that all the inhabitants of the earth could experience
what I had done as a witness of the Gospel. It seemed to me that, if
they could see and feel as I did, the whole of humankind would join
with us in one grand brotherhood, and the universe would be prepared
for the great Millennial morn.

When we returned to camp, my aunts partook of the same feeling that
had filled me. Then I got the spirit to enlist, and after a short
consultation with those most concerned they advised me to lay the
matter before Ezra T. Benson. Accordingly, the next morning Uncle A.
Stephens and I went over to the grove. I told the Elder my feelings,
and the responsibilities left upon me by my father. Elder Benson said
the Spirit's promptings to me were right, and I had started right. He
told me to go on, saying I would be blessed, my father would find
no fault with me, his business would not suffer, and I would never be
sorry for the action I had taken or for my enlistment. Every word he
said to me has been fulfilled to the very letter.

Uncle Alexander Stephens and I then went to a tent where men were
giving in their names as volunteers. We handed in our names, and were
enrolled as members of the historic Mormon Battalion.



IT was about one o'clock in the afternoon of July 9 when we bade our
friends an affectionate farewell, and started on what we understood to
be a journey of one hundred and thirty-eight miles, to join the army
of the United States at our country's call. We had provisions enough
put up to last us on our trip. The night previous our old clothes
had received the necessary repairs. Our preparations were hasty and
incomplete, for we had been told (by an unauthorized person, as we
afterwards learned) that when we got to Sarpy's Point, on the Missouri
River, we would draw uniforms, clothing, blankets, and rations, and
would have to cast aside our old clothes.

Our initial trip was begun without a blanket to wrap ourselves in,
as we thought we could find shelter in the camps along the line of
march. But in this we were mistaken, for everybody seemed to have
all they could do to shelter their own. The first night we camped on
the bank of a small stream, where we fell in with twelve or fifteen
other volunteers who had not so much as a bit of bread, but plenty of
assurance in asking for what others had. We divided with them, then
scraped what leaves we could and laid down thereon, with a chunk of
wood for our pillow. Next morning we divided our last morsel of food
with what we learned later were the very roughest element of the

For five days we journeyed, much of the time in heavy rain and deep
mud, sleeping on the wet ground without blankets or other kind of
bedding, and living on elm bark and occasionally a very small ration
of buttermilk handed to us by humane sisters as we passed their tents.
We thought our experience was pretty rough, but I do not remember that
I heard murmuring from the lips of anyone, for we felt that we were in
the service of God and our country.

When we reached the Missouri River we found that some four hundred men
had rendezvoused there. In the camps of the Latter-day Saints, close
by, there were some thousands of men, women and children; a brush
bowery had been erected, where the people met for religious worship.
We soon found friends who welcomed us to camp, and we were invited to
a social dance and farewell party. We had excellent music, the best
dinner that the country could afford, and, above all, a spirit of
brotherly love and union that I have never seen surpassed. With all on
the altar of sacrifice for God and His kingdom and for our country, it
seemed that everything and everybody looked to the accomplishment of
one grand, common cause, not a dissenting voice being heard from anyone.

July 16, 1846, we were mustered into the service of the United States,
and, under command of Col. James Allen, marched down the bluffs to the
Missouri bottoms, where we camped in a cottonwood grove. Some flour
and other provisions were issued to us, and we peeled the bark off
a tree for a bread tray or kneading trough. Some rolled their dough
around sticks and stuck or held it before the fire, and others baked
their bread in the ashes; for we had not yet drawn any camp equipage.
We received one blanket apiece, and had that charged up, the amount to
be taken out of our pay.

I am not writing a history of the Mormon Battalion, but am relating my
individual experiences in that detachment of the United States army, as
I recollect them; so it will not be expected of me to tell much of what
others saw, or to narrate events as they remember them, but as they
impressed themselves upon my mind at the time of occurrence.

Just before our last farewell to friends at the Missouri River, and
preparatory to taking up our line of march, we were formed into a
hollow square, and President Brigham Young, with Heber C. Kimball and
others of the Apostles, came to our camp, rode into the square, and
gave us parting blessings and instructions. The words of President
Young, as they fastened themselves upon my memory, were in substance as
follows: "Now, brethren, you are going as soldiers at your country's
call. You will travel in a foreign land, in an enemy's country; and
if you will live your religion, obey your officers, attend to your
prayers, and as you travel in an enemy's land, hold sacred the property
of the people, never taking anything that does not belong to you only
in case of starvation; though you may be traveling in an enemy's
country, do not disturb fruit orchards or chicken coops or beehives, do
not take anything but what you pay for--although it is customary for
soldiers to plunder their enemies in time of war, it is wrong--always
spare life when possible; if you obey this counsel, attending to
your prayers to the Lord, I promise you in the name of the Lord God
of Israel that not one soul of you shall fall by the hands of the
enemy. You will pass over battlefields; battles will be fought in your
front and in your rear, on your right hand and on your left, and your
enemies shall flee before you. Your names shall be held in honorable
remembrance to the latest generation."

Heber C. Kimball and other prominent men of the Church confirmed what
President Young had said, and all bade us an affectionate farewell,
with "God bless you and spare your lives."

Thus we set out in good cheer on our journey of more than two thousand
miles in a section of the continent wholly unknown to us.

In the month of July, from about the 20th, we passed down through the
towns and villages along the river, for two hundred miles, to Fort
Leavenworth. The heat was excessive, and the roads dusty, when we
started out. A great part of the way we had only a small ration of
food, for it did not seem to be in the country, and we suffered much
from want. We took regular turns in standing guard around the camp and
in herding the stock. Heavy rains came on, and for several days we
pressed forward amid such terrible storms as I never had experienced
before. With less than half rations, and that badly or insufficiently
cooked, from lack of proper utensils and experience, and having to lie
on the ground without any bedding save one blanket each, it is a wonder
the entire camp were not down sick instead of a few. But with all this
hardship there were no desertions and few complaints. Everything seemed
to move harmoniously among the men.

The command crossed the river at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and soon
afterwards we drew a tent to each mess of six men. This afforded us
great relief at nights, protecting us from the dews and rain; but in
the daytime the whiteness of the tents seemed to intensify the heat so
that there was no comfort in them. While at Fort Leavenworth we washed
our old clothing and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Soon we
drew camp equipage and rations from the government. We got flintlock
muskets, and accoutrements consisting of bayonets, cartridge-boxes,
straps and belts, canteens, haversacks, etc., also a knapsack each.
We drew our first pay, forty-two dollars each, sent part of it to our
families, and fitted ourselves out with new clothes and shoes.

With all the paraphernalia of soldiers, we seemed so burdened as to
be able neither to run nor to fight. Then to be obliged to travel all
day under a broiling sun, or in driving rain or fierce winds, across
sandy deserts and over trackless mountains, going sometimes sixty to
ninety miles without water, in an enemy's country--kind reader, you
may picture such scenes in your imagination, but it is impossible for
you to realize the conditions except by actual experience therein.
It is equally impossible for me to find language to describe fitly
the situation at that time at the United States military post of Fort

The place being an outfitting station for United States forces in the
war with Mexico, all was bustle and activity; steamboats were unloading
material, and teams filled the streets; many of the new recruits
were very rough indeed, and drinking and fighting seemed to be their
pastime; myself and companions were amazed and shocked at the profane
and vulgar language and vile actions that we were compelled to listen
to and witness; with all else, squads of soldiers were being drilled,
the bugle sound was frequent, as were also the beating of the drum and
the playing of the fife; everywhere the men were preparing for victory
or death, and many were so reckless they did not seem to care which

As our battalion was preparing quietly for the great march before us,
a band of very small Mexican mules was brought in to be used as teams
in our transportation department. The animals were unaccustomed to
harness, and very wild, so there was a detail of men from each company
assigned to do the harnessing. It fell to my lot to engage in the work,
and great was my surprise to see one of those little mules dragging
three to five men about the yards. I thought I was able to handle one
of the little long-eared animals myself, but had the conceit taken out
of me in quick order by having my hands burned with the rope, as I
was jerked and dragged about in fertilizer in the yards--there being
an abundance there. But we accomplished our work, with some sport and
considerable cost to our patience and muscular energy.

From the 10th to the 15th of August, companies A, B, and C moved out on
the Santa Fe road, and in two or three days were followed by companies
D and E. Our esteemed colonel, James Allen, having been taken ill,
ordered Captain Jefferson Hunt of company A to take command until the
colonel should recover and settle up the business of outfitting the

Our route lay over rolling hills, through some timbered country and
some prairie. The weather was warm, and there was much suffering,
especially from lack of drinking water, this being scarce. The sick
felt the hardship particularly, and there was quite a number down with
chills and fever; such water as was obtainable was of poor quality,
warm and unhealthy, and added to the number of the sick.

Each company had a large wagon and three or four yoke of oxen to haul
the tents and camp equipage, and one issue of rations, I think it was
for one week. The government had assigned a doctor to our command,
George B. Sanderson of Platte County, Missouri. He proved to be so
cruel and tyrannical as to incur the ill-will of every man in the
command. He had immediate charge of the hospital wagons, and no matter
how ill a man was, he was not allowed to ride in the company's wagon
until he had reported to this cruel quack, who had to be honored with
the title of physician and surgeon. With his permission a man was
allowed to crawl into his company's wagon, which was filled nearly to
the bows with tents and other camp equipage. Sometimes there would be
five or six crowded in together, some shaking with ague and others
burning with fever. Our company wagon was called the Gray Eagle; John
Gilbert was the teamster, and did all in his power to favor those of
his comrades who deserved it.

Besides the company and hospital wagons, there were sutlers' or
merchants' wagons--speculators that are permitted to follow the army
for what they can make off the troops. They carry in stock such
things as they know from experience the soldier most needs, and many
luxuries; they had almost everything to entice the famishing soldier,
who had to stand guard over them and their stores. Many times, through
hardships, we seemed compelled to patronize them. Our suffering was
their opportunity, and they were not slow to take advantage of it.
Their prices were enormous, and their bills never failed to reach the
paymaster by each payday; after these were paid, the soldier came in
for the balance, if there was any. Some were very unfortunate through
sickness, and had to patronize the sutler, or merchant; others were
unwise in their purchases; and thus the eight dollars a month wages
often was spent before it was earned.

Our commissary and ammunition department included over a hundred
wagons; the three or four pieces of artillery followed close in our
rear, in charge of a wagonmaster and assistants.

The usual order of marching, as I remember it, was: an advance guard;
then the colonel and his staff; next came the body of the command; then
a rearguard, the baggage and hospital wagons, etc. Only on special
occasions was the main body of the battalion permitted to march at
will, as long as it remained between the front and rear guards. When
the country was specially rough, and roads had to be made, the road
hands, or, in military language, the sappers and miners, were allowed
extra rations, and had to start out very early with the advance guard.



WE crossed the Kaw River about the 17th of August, being ferried over
in flat boats by some half civilized Delaware and Shawnee Indians.
Where we crossed the river it was from three to four hundred yards
wide. The country in the neighborhood seemed to be well adapted to
farming. The Indians had good crops of corn and watermelons, and knew
as well as white men how to charge for them. These Indians were an
intelligent-looking people, having log cabins for dwellings.

From the Kaw we traveled to Spring Creek, over a beautiful country, and
there joined the companies that had preceded us. We met with rainstorms
that made it very disagreeable for us at night, when two of us would
spread one blanket and lie down on it. It would wet through at once;
and though we had tents over us, we often slept on the wet ground, in
wet clothes.

Moving onward to Stone Coal Creek, we there endured one of the severest
storms of wind and rain that any of us ever had experienced. Nearly
every tent was blown down; several government wagons were overturned,
and others were sent rolling before the wind as though they were
express or stage coaches; many men fell on their faces and held to
the shrubbery to avoid being carried away by the violence of the
hurricane, while others not so fortunate as to be able to catch hold
of a shrub were driven some rods before the blast. Some were bruised
and others badly frightened, but none received serious injury; and
although everybody was thoroughly soaked, not even the sick seemed to
be unfavorably affected in health by their experience.

The storm over and our clothing dried, we resumed our march. Coming to
a deep creek with precipitous banks, we had to hold the wagons back
with ropes and let them down gradually to the bed of the stream; then
a number of men with ropes, on the opposite side, assisted the teams
in drawing the wagons up the steep bank. We passed over some very fine
land to a place we named Allen's Grove, and camped. Next day we came
to the ruins of a city of the dim, distant past; the stone walls were
yet visible to the traveler. That night we rested on Beaver Creek. On
the 25th or 26th, while traveling through a beautiful country of rich
soil, one wagon with five or six people was upset into a creek, and
the occupants received a dangerous ducking, though I do not recall any
serious results following.

It was on this day that a messenger from Fort Leavenworth overtook us,
bringing the sorrowful news of the death of our esteemed commander,
Colonel James Allen. It was a sad blow to us, for all had learned to
respect, and, indeed, even to love him. Yet I have felt sometimes that
it was a kind providence to him that he was taken from us, for his
nature was too kind and sympathetic to have forced his men through what
the Mormon Battalion had to endure before reaching its destination.

Colonel Allen's death left a vacancy in the command that was not
difficult to fill according to military rules, as the next officer
in rank should have occupied his place. But plain as is the military
law on the subject, there arose a dispute, and much feeling was
worked up. The council of officers decided that, as Captain Jefferson
Hunt of company A had been placed in charge by Colonel Allen till the
latter should rejoin the command, he should continue in that position.
Accordingly, he led the battalion to Council Grove, where it was
learned that Lieutenant Colonel Smith was on the way, intending to
assume command. Thus the quiet of the camp was again disturbed, and
much feeling manifested. There were many warm discussions between the
officers and among the soldiers as well.

It was at Council Grove that Lieutenant Colonel Smith, Major Walker,
and G. B. Sanderson overtook us. The question of command was further
discussed, Captain Hunt standing up for his rights. But in the council,
Captain Nelson Higgins of Company D (my company) moved that Smith
should be recognized as the commanding officer; this was seconded by
Captain Davis of Company E; all the officers but three, viz.: Laron
Clark, Samuel Gully, and Wesley W. Willis, voted for the motion, and
the question was settled. Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Smith took command,
to the disgust of the soldiers, a large majority of whom, if not all,
were quite dissatisfied. Next day we reached Diamond Springs, where the
battalion was inspected by Lieutenant Colonel Smith.

At this time there was much sickness in camp, chills and fever and
mumps. This condition was produced by frequent changes of drinking
water, and by poorly-cooked food, as many times we had to depend on
dry weeds for fuel. When a man became sick, it had been the custom for
him to crawl into the company wagon. Our new commander soon dropped
on the kindness of the teamster, and put an end to it without mercy.
The commander was so rough and ungentle, and had so much pomposity and
assurance, that the whole command was disgusted, and almost all were
angry. He ordered the sick out of the wagons, and directed that before
they could ride they must be reported by the doctor as unable to walk,
and had to take a dose of the doctor's drugs from his old rusty spoon.
We soon began to realize that we had fallen into bad hands.

The doctor often talked to the men as though they were brutes. He was
very unfeeling, and the men would not respond to his sick call ("Jim
along, Josey") when it was possible for them to walk alone. When we
stopped he would sit in front of his tent with his book on his knee, a
long chest of medicine before him, a colored man for his body servant,
and a hospital steward standing in front of the wagon. At sick call,
everyone who could not walk had to be taken before the doctor's tent,
and there be seated or laid down, sometimes on the wet ground, then,
like going to a mill, wait for his grist, or dose of calomel. There
was not much chance to miss it, for, when a man's name was called and
responded to, the hospital steward was ordered to give him such and
such a dose, and the old iron spoon, with its contents of we knew
not what, was presented in the presence of the doctor. Under these
circumstances we began to feel at least the rigors of military rule.

About this time we entered the Comanche Indian country, and on
September 2 camped on Cottonwood Creek. The Indians were said to be
very hostile, yet we had no trouble with them. I think it was here that
we began to see signs of buffalo, and the prairie dog villages. Timber
was very scarce, and the country was more uninviting than that we had
passed over.

Shortly after Lieutenant Colonel Smith took command we were drawn up
in line, and some military laws were read to us. At the end of almost
every sentence there was the word death, as punishment for infraction
of the law. We were then talked to in a most offensive and domineering
manner, until some of us began to wonder what we had done to merit such
severity and downright abuse.

We were tired and footsore, and suffered much from lack of water. The
country showed such a sameness of forbidding features that the journey
became very monotonous and tiresome. Fuel was so scarce that we had to
dig trenches two or three feet long, and eight or ten inches wide and
a foot deep, fill these with dry grass, and start a fire and pile on
buffalo chips, with which to do our cooking. The result was our food
often was half raw and badly smoked, and many of the men were brought
down with severe diarrheal complaints. As many had traveled the road in
advance of us, even buffalo chips for fuel were so scarce that often we
had to go for miles to gather them.

When we reached Pawnee Fork we found it a very difficult stream to
cross. The wagons had to be let down the steep bank with ropes, by the
men, and had to be taken up the opposite bank in the same manner.

The events narrated here will indicate that it is not all of a
soldier's duty when on a long march to tramp all day with musket and
accoutrements and knapsack, but the soldier on such a journey as we
had must push and pull wagons up hill, hold them back when going down
hill, haul them through deep sands, and help them and the teams out
of quicksands; he must stand guard and night-herd stock; must press
on, over rough or smooth ground, rain or shine; must wade rivers, and
when crossing streams is not allowed to take off his clothing, but has
to plunge into the water, and then travel on in wet clothes; besides,
there are many other experiences that are far from pleasant.

We pushed along the best we could to the Arkansas River, through a
very uninviting country, in which we began to find brackish water and
saleratus. We traveled up the broad river bottoms of the Arkansas
eighty to one hundred miles, the water being poor and unhealthy. Many
were added to the corps of "Jim along, Joseys," and had to be led or
carried by their comrades to the unfeeling doctor, many times to be
cursed at by him, and then to take a dose from his nauseating spoon.
Quite a number of the sick were badly salivated by the drugs given them.

About September 15 or 16, we crossed the river where the roads fork,
one going toward Fort Benton, and the other leading to Santa Fe. There
we parted with Captain Nelson Higgins, he having been detailed to take
a small squad of men and the families to a Spanish town called Pueblo,
some hundred miles away, there to winter. Meanwhile, we pushed our
way over barren plains and sandy deserts to the Cimmaron River. We
saw deceptive rivers, ponds and lakes; we chased after them for miles
sometimes, till we found that, like jack o' lantern or will o' the
wisp, we could not get nearer to them. Finally we learned that they
were mirages--a peculiar reflection of the sun upon the great plains or
sandy deserts. It seemed impossible for the inexperienced to discern
the difference between the mirage and a body of real water.

In this barren country we saw immense herds of buffalo; in our long
march we came to ponds of water made perfectly filthy by the buffalo,
and rendered offensive by the broiling hot sun, the liquid being almost
as thick as gruel; but we were so terribly famished with thirst that we
were glad to get even such foul water.

When the Cimmaron River was reached, there was good water, and good
feed for our stock, but our rations were reduced one-third, and we were
pretty well worn down.

On the 18th or 19th of September it was my place to be on guard. I had
stood the journey very well, but by this time had become affected by
the alkali, and that day was so badly afflicted with diarrhea as to be
almost unable to drag myself into camp. But rather than march to "Jim
along, Josey," I took my place on guard. That night there came on one
of the most terrible storms I ever have experienced. I had to brace
myself with my musket to stand. From that date I have never been free
from pain in the right limb, near the instep, caused by the severe
exposure. Next day it became necessary to go on the sick list, to
remain several days.

About the 23rd we began to come to timber in the hills, and having been
for nine or ten days with nothing but grass and buffalo chips for fuel,
we were in a situation to appreciate the change. Soon we were among the
sandhills, where traveling was hard, and passed the Rabbit Ears (Black
Peak and Agua Fria Peak), two high mountain peaks. In this mountainous
region we found traces of the inhabitants of a past age, in old stone
walls and in numerous' irrigation canals long since dry.

On the 2nd or 3rd of October we came to the Red River. The mountain
air was bracing, but there were many men who yet remained sick. About
this time the command was culled over by Lieutenant Colonel Smith and
the doctor, and all who were considered able to stand a forced march to
Santa Fe were ordered forward on the double quick.

The sick men were left to take care of themselves as best they could,
with the broken down teams of the command to look after. My lot was
still with the invalids, and of course I had to remain. Yet we were
only about two days behind the strong men who left us in the mountains;
we reached Santa Fe on October 12th, having passed through several
Mexican villages, the houses of which were low and flat-roofed, and
covered principally with cement and tile. We saw the very small Mexican
sheep and goats, the people milking the latter, by sitting at the back
end, in an earthen pot, and there milking regardless of anything that
might drop into the vessel intended for milk only.

From the appearance of Santa Fe we had no reason to doubt that it was
between three and four hundred years old; for it looked at least that
far behind the times. Mexicans and Indians, badly mixed, made up the
population. Their costume, manners, habits, and in fact everything,
were both strange and novel to us, and of course were quite an
attraction. Many of the people looked on us with suspicion, and if
it had been in their power no doubt they would have given us a warm
reception; others appeared to be pleased, doubtless because it made
trade better for them, and on that account they seemed very friendly.
They brought into camp, for sale, many articles of food; the strongest
of these were red pepper pies, the pepper-pods as large as a teacup, and
onions (savoyas) as large as saucers, to be eaten raw like turnips.

A few days' rest and change of food at Santa Fe, and the command was
ready to resume its arduous march.



WHILE we were in Santa Fe, Colonel Sterling Price came in with his
cavalry command, and soon the town prison was filled with them, so that
it became necessary for a guard from the Mormon Battalion to be posted
at the prison. I do not recall that any of our command was put into the
prison, though it is possible one or two might have been, for a few of
them got rather too much wine; but it was a very few who acted that
way. There were many invalids of other commands left to garrison Santa
Fe, and they caused considerable disturbance, many of them getting into

It seems that word had gone ahead to the Mexican town that the Mormons
were a very hard class of outlaws, consequently at first we were looked
upon as "toughs" of the very worst kind. But when the people had an
opportunity to see our superior conduct in contrast with that of the
other troops, they realized the true situation, and male and female
thronged our camp in friendly visit.

It was on October 13, 1846, that Lieutenant Colonel P. St. George Cooke
assumed command of the Mormon Battalion, having been designated for
that purpose, and by this proceeding we were liberated from the little
tyrant Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Smith.

By order of Colonel Cooke, Captain James Brown of Company C took
command of all the sick that were unable to continue the journey to
California; also of most of the laundresses, and a few able-bodied
men, with directions to go north to Pueblo, and join Captain Higgins.
In order to determine who were not able to continue the march to
California, we were drawn up in line, and the officers and Dr.
Sanderson inspected the whole command. The doctor scrutinized every one
of us, and when he said a man was not able to go, his name was added to
Captain Brown's detachment, whether the man liked it or not; and when
the doctor said a man could make the trip, that settled the matter. The
operation was much like a cooper culling stave timber, or a butcher
separating the lean from the fat sheep.

My desire was very strong to continue the overland journey, and when
the doctor neared me, I braced up and tried to look brave and hardy.
To the doctor's inquiry, "How do you feel?" my answer was, "First
rate." He looked at me suspiciously and said, "You look d--d pale and
weak," then passed on, and I was greatly relieved at having gone safely
through the inspection.

In order No. 8, Colonel Cooke called the particular attention of the
company commanders to the necessity of reducing baggage as much as
possible; that means for transportation were very deficient; that the
road was almost impracticable, much of it being in deep sand, and
how soon we would have to abandon our wagons it was impossible to
ascertain; that skillets and ovens could not be taken, and but one
camp-kettle to each mess of ten men.

Colonel Cooke very properly and correctly pointed out that everything
seemed to conspire to discourage the extraordinary undertaking of
marching the battalion 1,100 miles, for the much greater part of the
way through an unknown wilderness, without road or trail, and with a
wagon train. He said the battalion was much worn by traveling on foot,
marching from Nauvoo, Illinois; their clothing was very scant, there
was no money to pay them, or clothing to issue; the mules were utterly
broken down; the quartermaster's department was out of funds and its
credit bad; animals were scarce, and those procured were inferior and
deteriorating every hour from the lack of forage. All this made it
necessary that such careful preparation as could be should be made in

It can be easily seen from this statement that the condition and
prospects of the battalion were not very encouraging; yet there
were very few of the men who had the least desire to retrace their
steps--they knew what they had passed through, but looking ahead they
tried to hope for the best, realizing, just as they had been told, that
the country through which they had to travel was an unknown region.

With the colonel's orders carried out, we got ready to move, and about
the 21st of October we left Santa Fe and traveled six or eight miles
to a stream called Agua Fria (cold water). Grass for animals was very
short, the nights were very cold, and our road was in heavy sand almost
from the start. Our advance was slow, for the best teams had been taken
for extra service or express duties in other departments. Besides,
there was added to our already overburdened animals the load of sacks,
packsaddles, lashing-ropes, etc., necessary in the event of being
compelled to abandon the wagons, so we would not be entirely without
means of transportation. There was also the burden of sheep pelts and
blankets to use under pack saddles, and as most of these were bought
second-hand, they were well stocked with the insects commonly called

In a short time we drew near to the mountains, and the weather became
colder. Having but one blanket each we began to use the pelts and
saddle-blankets to splice out our scanty store of bedding. Thus
we proceeded over sandy roads, through the towns and villages of
Spaniards, Indians and Greasers--the surroundings presented being of
such a sameness that the journey became very monotonous.

Soon after leaving Santa Fe our rations were reduced to one-third
the regular amount allowed by law to the soldier. A detail of men
was called as a substitute for mules, to move and to lighten the
loads of the ammunition wagons. Each soldier was required to carry
sixty-four rounds of cartridges that contained each a one-ounce ball,
three buck-shot, and powder enough to send them where they should be,
besides the heavy paper they were wrapped in, and extra flints for the
firelock--about two hundred ounces added to the already overburdened

Now the soldier must wade the tributaries of the Rio Grande del Norte,
sometimes waist deep and more, and is not allowed even to take off his
shoes, or any of his wearing apparel. An officer, perched on his white
mule on some point or eminence overlooking the whole command, with a
hawk's eye for keen military experience, calls to this or that squad of
men, with a horrid oath, as if they were brutes; often he curses the
men until they long for a battle where perchance someone would remember
the tyrant with an ounce ball and three buckshot. And yet, if that
feeling were not quenched in the soldier's bosom it would not require
an engagement with the enemy to accomplish the deed. But, praise God,
that feeling quickly passed off as the men marched along, their clothes
wet, and their thick soled cowhide army shoes partly filled with
sand--the chafing and galling of the flesh without and the gnawing and
grinding of the stomach within defied the mind to dwell upon any one
subject for long at a time.

Is it any wonder that under these conditions fifty-five of our comrades
wore down and collapsed so they had to go on the sick list and it
became necessary for Lieutenant W. W. Willis to take command of that
number of invalid soldiers, and join Captains Higgins and Brown at
Pueblo? This company of sick and exhausted men left us, on their
return, about the 10th or 12th of November.

About this time, the quartermaster was ordered to leave the remaining
two heavy ox-wagons, while the company commanders were directed to
reduce their tent-poles two-thirds; that is, to cast away all the
upright poles and use muskets instead, and to put gores in the back
part of the tents so they could shelter nine men in place of six; we
were also to leave one-third of the campkettles.

Then came some sport in putting packs on a number of our mules and
worn-out oxen. Some of these, which did not look as though they could
travel a hundred miles further, when the crupper was put in place would
rear up, wheel around, and kick in a most amusing style; nor did they
cease until their strength failed them.

When this sport, if sport it may be called, was over we began to
realize in a small degree the gravity of our situation. Our guides
were "at sea," so to speak. We were in an enemy's land, with not a
soul in camp who knew anything of the country. Men had been sent ahead
to hunt a route for us to travel, and every time, on their return,
they reported impassable barriers ahead--rough, high, steep mountains,
without springs of water or creeks, or sandy plains, and barren deserts
that it would be impossible to cross. In this dilemma we had to bear to
the south, along the river, in hopes of finding a pass to the west.

One night, while camped near the Rio Grande del Norte, we heard a great
noise as though a band of horses were crossing the river. This created
quite an alarm, as there had been rumors of Mexicans revolting. For a
short time it was thought it was Mexican cavalry crossing to attack
us by night, but on the colonel making inquiries of the guides it was
learned that the noise proceeded from beaver playing in the river.
After watching and listening for a time, all settled down, contented
that there was no enemy at hand.

On resuming our march next day, we passed through a grove of cottonwood
trees, and saw where many of them had been cut down by the beaver. Some
of the trees were two feet or more in diameter, had been cut off in
long sections, and a surprisingly large dam had been constructed by the
beaver across the river. This dam had caused to be formed a large pond,
in which the beaver congregated at certain seasons, for sport. Thus the
mystery of our midnight disturbance was solved to our satisfaction.

We passed along the sandy road to a large bend in the river, which
Colonel Cooke decided was the place where we would cross the stream. He
stationed himself on an abrupt point of rock, from which he could view
the whole proceeding. Men were detailed from each company to follow the
wagons through the river. In order to avoid a rocky ridge the stream
had to be crossed twice within quarter of a mile. There were very heavy
quicksands, and if the teams were allowed to stop one minute it was
doubtful whether they could start again; consequently the precaution of
having men close at hand was very important, though the average soldier
did not understand the real reason for forcing him into the water
without stripping off at least part of his raiment.

The crossing was made early in the day, and the water was very cold, as
I had ample evidence, being one of those detailed to attend the wagons.
Our comrades took our muskets over the point while we lifted at the
wagons. As the water was waist deep, when the men would stoop to lift
it would wet our clothing very nearly to the armpits; our shoes also
were filled with sand.

Wet and cold, almost chilled, we continued our march through deep
sands, pushing and pulling at the wagons till our clothing dried on our
bodies, our shoes became so dry and hard that walking was very painful
and difficult, and our feet became raw. If this had been all, we might
have had less reason to complain; but when an irritated officer (not
all the officers pursued such a reprehensible course, but a few of them
did) swore at us as if we were brutes, when we were already burdened
almost beyond endurance, it is no wonder there was an impulsive desire
to retaliate. For my own part, my feelings never were so outraged,
and the desire for revenge never ran so high and wild as then. But we
cooled down, though our physical sufferings were not lessened; as we
tramped on through the sands we became so weak it was almost impossible
to keep our ankles from striking together as we walked, and our hard
and dry shoetops would cut our ankles till the blood came.



IT was but a little while after this that we left the Rio Grande del
Norte, and pressed on toward the west. One day, while passing up a
brushy canyon, my place being with the advance guard, in the rear of
the road hands, I had occasion to step into the brush by the roadside.
While there, out of sight, Col. Cooke and staff and guides came along
and stopped right opposite me, so close that I dared not move lest they
should see me. As they came up, the colonel inquired of the guides if
there were no fruit or berries that men could live on; the reply was,
no, not a thing. They were talking about some place ahead that the
guides were acquainted with. The colonel then asked if there were no
trees that had bark something like elm bark, which men could live on
for a few days; but the answer was that there was neither fruit, roots
nor bark, that the country was a barren waste.

Upon receiving this information, the colonel exclaimed, "What can we
do?" In response, the suggestion was that the guides did not know
unless some of the stronger men and mules were sent on a forced march
to the first place in California, where they could get a bunch of beef
cattle and meet us on the desert with them. There was some further
conversation, when it was ended by the colonel exclaiming, with a
despairing oath, "I expect the men will starve to death!"

The deep gloom of sadness hung over those who knew of the situation.
All of the men, however, were not informed of the gravity of the
position we were in. At that time we were drawing less than half
rations. The fresh meat we had was more like glue or jelly than beef.
The plan had been adopted of slaughtering the weak cattle first, so
that the stronger animals could travel faster. When an animal became
too weak to hold up one end of a yoke, or to carry a packsaddle, it was
slaughtered, and the flesh issued to the men. Not a scrap of the animal
would be left on the ground; the hide, intestines--all was eaten; even
the tender or soft edges of the hoofs and horns would be roasted, and
gnawed at so long as a human being possibly could draw subsistence
therefrom. Many times we were without water to wash the offal. The
bones would be carried along, broken up, and boiled and re-boiled, in
some instances as long as there could be seen a single "bird's eye"
(the name given to solitary spots of grease that would come to the
surface) of grease rise on the water; then each man was eager for his

Sometimes cattle became so weak that men were left with them to come
up to the command after night. On one occasion, when an old ox could
not be got into camp and had to be left four or five miles back, men
were sent bright and early next morning, to bring him in. It snowed
that night, and in camp things generally were disagreeable. The ox was
brought in, slaughtered, and issued to us for rations. If any man had
failed to get his share of that white ox at that time there might have
been a row, but a fair distribution maintained peace. The place of our
camp was called White Ox Creek, and we laid by for one day to rest and
refresh ourselves.

From there we traveled over a rough country, but one that evidently
had been inhabited ages ago, for we found stone walls, pottery by the
acre, and old and dry canals--their former source of water having
disappeared. We found in a rock a deep and large hole with water
sufficient to supply the command; we secured it by drawing all night,
until everything was watered. Then we moved on, and next night camped
without water. We passed many old mines, supposed to be of silver and
copper, and there were said to be gold mines in the vicinity. Late at
night we traveled, and were on the march early the following morning.
All day we pressed forward as rapidly as possible, there being no
water, and late at night the command came to a place called Dry Lake.

That was the hardest day for me that came in the experience of the
whole journey. I had been run down so low with a severe attack of
dysentery that I could travel no longer, and laid down. My thirst was
intense, and it did not seem possible that I could live till morning.
It seemed that everyone was traveling as best he could, for the
rearguard passed me without taking any notice. Men went by, looking
like death, their mouths black, their eyes sunken till it was difficult
to recognize them. Some eyes had a staring glare, which looked as if
the monster death were close at hand. Yet the men staggered on, their
feet hitting each other, tit for tat, as one was dragged past the
other. The hopes of these men were greater than mine, for I had ceased
to march. This was the first time I had felt there was little reason to
hope that I would ever reach camp again, for I supposed that all the
men had passed me. The sun's rays faded away on the eastern mountain
tops, and the bright orb dropped beneath the western horizon. For
a moment I felt that with me the vital spark would soon sink below the
mortal horizon, as if to accompany the king of day.

Just when my hopes were flickering as does a candle when the wick has
all but burned out, there came to my ears the sound as of the tinkling
of a tin can that seemed to keep time with a soldier's step as he
marched. Gradually the sound became more distinct until its approach
was a certainty. Then my uncle, Alexander Stephens, came in sight. He
had been left to bring up an old spotted ox which had failed, and had
driven the animal into the shade of a rocky cliff, where the ox laid
down, while the driver hunted around and found a dripping of water
as it seeped from a crevice in the rock. He had quenched his thirst
and filled his canteen, resting in the meantime, then followed on the
trail, pricking the ox with his bayonet.

When Uncle Alexander Stephens came up he handed me his canteen, and the
draught of water quickly revived me. I did not think myself able to
rise to my feet, but with a little assistance I got up, and took hold
of the packsaddle. My knapsack, musket and accoutrements were lashed to
the ox, and by a final effort we reached Dry Lake camp, by halting at
short intervals along the four miles we had to travel.

Wretched, wretched indeed, was the condition of the command that night.
It is doubtful whether at any time in the long march the men suffered
more than they did then and the forty-eight hours preceding. Next
morning, at the doctor's call, many had to be helped by their comrades
to the place designated for the sick.

For myself, two men sat me upon the ground, and held me up till my time
came to be questioned. Dr. Sanderson called out, "What is the matter
with you?" When he received the information asked for he remarked
gruffly: "I've a d--d great mind not to report you sick. I never saw
such a d--d set of men in my life. They will not report till d--d nigh
dead." I answered that it did not matter to me whether he entered me on
the sick list or not, for I could not walk. At this he said sharply.
"Not a d--d word out of you or I'll make you walk."

Then he ordered the steward to give me a dose of castor oil and
laudanum, stating the quantity. The steward, William Spencer, said,
"Isn't it a rather heavy dose?" to which the doctor responded with a
curse, telling him to do as he was ordered. At that the dose was poured
into a teacup, filling it half full. It was given to me, the steward
saying in a low tone of voice. "If you do not throw it up it will kill
you." I was assisted back to the company's wagon, and soon vomited the
medicine, but not until it had changed my countenance so much that the
lieutenant of my company, Cyrus Canfield, did not know me. He came and
ordered me out of the wagon, telling me to go to my own company. It was
sometime before he could be convinced who I really was, then remarked
that I looked so near dead that he could not believe it was I. But when
he recognized me he was very kind, and was willing to do anything he
could for my relief.

For four days I lay in a dull stupor, when that phase of the disease
was checked, and a very high fever set in. My sufferings were so
terrible that some of my messmates came into the tent, anointed me with
oil, then administered to or prayed for me; and although burning with
a high fever till it seemed that I could not live, I was instantly
healed, so that when they took their hands off the fever was entirely
gone, and I was wet with perspiration. From that time I began to gather
strength. That was my first experience with the ordinance of healing by
the laying on of hands by the Elders of the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints.



AT the camp at Dry Lake, which we reached between November 20 and 25,
we laid over a day, and a party was sent ahead to cut a road over the
divide. I was too weak for four or five days to take much interest in
what passed; and in the meantime the command reached and crossed the
divide, or summit of the Rocky Mountains--the backbone of the North
American continent--where the waters are divided, flowing on either
side to the Atlantic and Pacific respectively.

For eighteen hundred miles the Mormon Battalion members had made a hard
and weary march. Starting from Nauvoo, on the Mississippi River--the
"father of waters"--as exiles, they had passed over a lovely country,
yet at a season of the year when travel was difficult, to the Missouri
River. At the latter point the battalion was mustered into service, and
moved over an excellent country two hundred miles to Fort Leavenworth;
thence through what is now the state of Kansas, passing over a goodly
land to the Great Plains, a timberless country, where water is scarce.
There they began to be footsore and leg-weary, and to suffer severely
from heat and thirst. Soon they came to the desert, and for nine days
tried cooking their shortened rations over "buffalo chip" fires, with
fuel even scarcer than it was poor; often having very little water, and
that brackish, so that men and hearts began to grow weak and ill.

At this point in the long journey they commenced passing the open
graves of soldiers, many of whom laid down their lives in the advance
companies. Their graves were open for the reason that wolves had dug
up the dead bodies and devoured the flesh from the bones; the blankets
in which the bodies were wrapped were torn to shreds, while in some
instances the carcass still hung together, except that the fingers and
toes had been eaten off by wild beasts. The road was also strewn with
dead horses and cattle, so that as the battalion advanced the gruesome
sights became more frequent and therefore excited less comment. And in
turn the battalion contributed a share of dead to the lonely graves of
the plains.

Then, on the sandy roads, there was the rough order to put the shoulder
to the wheel and help the jaded teams; and the battalion waded creeks
and rivers with quicksand bottoms, or lifted or pulled at ropes in
lowering or raising their wagons over rough and precipitous places--in
what appeared at that time a rough and worthless country, which may not
have changed greatly since.

At times they were called forward to tramp sand roads for teams, and
then to return and pull at ropes or push at wagons which, without
assistance, the teams could not control. Then when Santa Fe was passed
the journey was proceeded upon with reduced rations, down the difficult
country along the Rio Grande del Norte. Onward the struggle continued,
over sandy deserts and through a rough, mountainous region, where the
hardships were intense, and where there seemed no eye to pity and no
hand to pass even a drop of water to moisten the parching tongue. It
was not human capability, it was the divine power that sustained them
in such extremities as they had to endure.

It was thus the renowned Mormon Battalion toiled and struggled on their
journey to the summit of the lofty Rocky Mountain range--the crest
of the continent--a journey whose details of privation, and peril,
and patient courage, cannot be told in human words, and never can be
realized except by those who experienced it. So many lofty mountain
spurs had been crossed, that the final ascent seemed quite gradual.

Leaving now this general survey of the past, I recall that from the
lofty eminence we had reached on our march, the descent was very abrupt
and difficult, through the rugged defiles to the west. But with the
battalion it was a case of life and death. That was no place to remain,
there was no earthly help at hand, no way to life open but to trust
in God and persevere in the onward movement. So with the pick-axe and
crow-bar we commenced to clear the most feasible road down by chopping
away the shrubbery and brush and removing that and the rocks.

After much of the baggage had been taken down the mountain one way by
pack animals, long ropes and guy-ropes were attached to the wagons and
the descent with them began by another way. The wagons were lowered for
a distance of half a mile or so, men standing as best they could on
the mountain side, letting the vehicle down gradually, then holding it
till other men could get a fresh footing and lower it still further.
Thus one by one the wagons were let down in safety, all but one. By
some mishap that got adrift from the men, and to save their lives they
had to let it go until there was nothing of it but scrap-iron and
kindling-wood. As there was already an abundance of the latter around
us, no one was desirous of descending to the rugged depths of the
ravine to secure even a relic of that terrible descent.

It was thought by our commander and guides that it would require from
six to eight days to make the descent, but thanks to the tact and skill
of some of our men who had been accustomed to frontier life, the work
was done in two days, and we were again where the wagons could stand on
partially level ground.

In a very brief space of time we found ourselves plunged into a warm
climate, where we could not see any plant or shrub that we had been
acquainted with before. There was some small, scrubby ash, sycamore
and black walnut, but everything, even to the rocks, had a strange
appearance. We also had entered the land of wild horses and cattle,
which roamed the hills by thousands. The wild cattle became excited at
the rumbling wagons, and gathered thickly along our way.

At last the muskets commenced to rattle, partly through fear, and
partly because we wanted beef. Finally a herd of wild cattle charged
our line, tossed some men into the air, pierced others with their
horns, knocking some down, and ran over others, attacking one light
wagon, the hind end of which was lifted clear from the road. One large
bull plunged into a six-mule team, ran his head under the off-swing
mule, throwing him entirely over the near one and thrusting his horn
into the mule's vitals, injuring our animal so it had to be left on the
ground, where it expired in a few minutes. There were several men and
mules roughly used and bruised, just the number I do not now recall.
The attacking party lost twenty or twenty-five of their number killed,
with many others badly or slightly wounded.

We had plenty of beef for a few days, and might have secured much
more. I never understood the reason why we were not allowed to lay
by and "jerk" an abundance of meat for the subsequent use of the
command, but the stop was not permitted. Many of the men felt greatly
disappointed and indignant because we were denied the privilege of
availing ourselves of this splendid opportunity of replenishing our
scanty rations. We were half starving at the time, and perhaps if we
had been allowed to lay by a few days we would have gorged ourselves to
our injury. It may be that would have been more serious than to have
stormed, as some did, at being ordered to march on. It is possible this
was the view taken by our commander, though we never knew.

Continuing our advance to lower levels, the climate was mild and
pleasant. Our course was northwesterly until we passed a deserted
ranch called San Bernardino, in what is now Arizona, and followed
down the San Pedro River. I think this was the south fork of the Gila
River. There was some good country along this lovely stream. It was
there we first saw the mescal and mesquit, the former being the plant
from which the Mexicans distil their whisky (pulque), the latter a tree
somewhat resembling the black locust, but growing with a very spreading
habit, making it difficult to travel among. In many places it had to be
cut down and cleared away before we could proceed. There was another
scrubby tree-growth which the Spaniards call chapparal. This brush grew
very thick in places, so that in cutting it away travel became very

Here the guides told Colonel Cooke that if we followed along the stream
it would be a hundred miles farther than if we cut across the bend, but
if we took the latter route we would have to pass through a Mexican
fortified town, where a body of soldiers had been left to guard it as
an outpost. At that time it was impossible for us to learn the strength
of the place; but it was thought that we might get some supplies of
provisions and some animals. At the same time there was considerable
risk that we would have to fight, and perhaps get defeated, in which
case it would be not only a loss of property but of life as well.

On December 12 and 13 we followed down the San Pedro, our course
being nearly due north, near the base of a mountain extending towards
the Gila River. The guide, Leroux, with others, returned from an
exploration of the table-land to the west, leading to Tucson. They
found a party of Apache Indians and some Mexicans distilling mescal,
and learned from them that the Mexican garrison at Tucson numbered
about two hundred men. The interpreter with the guides, Dr. Foster,
had thought it proper to go to Tucson, and Leroux told the Mexicans to
inform the commander at Tucson that an American army was approaching
en route to California; that the advance guard numbered about three
hundred and sixty men, and if it stopped to drill it would give time
for the main army to come up; that the strength of the main army could
be judged by the size of its vanguard; and that if Foster did not
rejoin the advance guard by a given time it would be understood that he
was a prisoner at Tucson. Upon learning what had been done and said,
Colonel Cooke issued the following order:

"Headquarters Mormon Battalion, Camp on the San Pedro, Dec. 13, 1846.

"Thus far on our course to California we have followed the guides
furnished us by the general. These guides now point to Tucson, a
garrison town, as on our road, and assert that any other course is
one hundred miles out of the way, and over a trackless wilderness of
mountains, rivers and hills. We will march then to Tucson. We came
not to make war on Sonora, and less still to destroy an important
outpost of defense against Indians. But we will take the straight road
before us and overcome all resistance, but shall I remind you that the
American soldier ever shows justice and kindness to the unarmed and
unresisting? The property of individuals you will hold sacred; the
people of Sonora are not our enemies.

            "By order of Lieutenant Colonel Cooke.

                                 "P. C. Merrill, Adjutant."



ON the 14th the battalion ascended to the plateau, traveling up hill
for eight or nine miles, when it struck the trail leading to Tucson.
Colonel Cooke selected fifty men, with whom he pushed forward. Passing
the vanguard, he soon reached water, where he found four or five
Mexican soldiers cutting grass. Their arms and saddles were on their
horses near by, easily accessible to our men. But these had no wish to
molest them, and the Mexicans appeared to pay little attention to us.

The colonel learned from a Mexican sergeant that rumors of a large
force of American troops coming had reached Tucson, and great
excitement prevailed in the town. Of course the colonel, who was
possessed of generalship as well as a stern sense of discipline, took
no pains to disabuse the Mexicans' minds, and thus possibly expose
our little army to unnecessary peril. Indians who had seen us from a
distance had overestimated largely our numbers, and thus served to
impress the people of Sonora with the accuracy of the statement made by
the guides.

The colonel also learned from the Mexican sergeant that the commander
of the garrison had orders from the governor not to allow any armed
force to pass through the town without resistance. A message was
therefore sent to the commander by this same sergeant, saying that the
people need not be alarmed, as we were their friends and would do them
no harm, as we wished merely to purchase supplies and pass on.

The next day we traveled about twelve miles, passing a distillery, and
camped without water. The battalion marched in front of the wagons, to
protect the provisions. Here a new (to us) species of cactus proved
very troublesome. It was jointed, and when an animal rubbed against the
thorns it broke loose at the joints, and sections about three inches
long would stick fast to the animal. The same variety of cactus is
found in southern Utah.

This day a corporal, the son of Cassaduran, commander of the Mexican
post at Tucson, and three Mexican soldiers were met with. They showed
no signs of fear until Colonel Cooke ordered them arrested, when they
seemed terribly frightened. On arriving at our camp, the corporal was
questioned by the commander as to Dr. Foster. He said (and it proved to
be true) that Foster was under guard, but had been requested earnestly
to come with them, and had refused. He had feigned indignation at being
arrested, lest the Mexicans should be suspicious as to our numbers and
should get reinforcements and fight us. As he anticipated, his conduct
inspired them with terror.

One of the Mexican prisoners was released and sent to the garrison
with two of the guides, one of whom took a note to the commander of
the post, demanding Foster's release and stating that the other three
Mexicans were held as hostages. About midnight, Dr. Foster was brought
into camp by two officers, one of whom was authorized to arrange a
special armistice.

Colonel Cooke sent a proposition to the Mexican commander that he
deliver up a few arms as a guaranty of surrender, and that the
inhabitants of Tucson would not fight against the United States, unless
released as prisoners of war. The Mexican prisoners also were released.
Our camp at this time was about sixteen miles from Tucson; and on our
advance the following day, when a few miles out, a cavalryman met us
with a note from Captain Cassaduran, declining the proposition to
surrender. We were thereupon ordered to load our muskets and prepare
for an engagement. We had not traveled far, however, before two other
Mexicans met us, with the news that the garrison at Tucson had fled,
and had forced most of the inhabitants to leave the town. They also
had taken two brass pieces of artillery with them. A little later in
the day, about a dozen well armed men, probably soldiers in citizens'
dress, met and accompanied the battalion to Tucson. But before passing
through the gates a halt was ordered.

That morning, when we were striking camp for the march into Tucson, Dr.
Sanderson opened up again by remarking that "every d--d man who could
stand alone ought to fall into line." Our first move was to form ranks
with everything in proper order to make an assault or receive a charge.
Then we moved out in line of battle. When within three or four miles of
the fort a stop was made, we were faced to the right, and the command
came to forward march, double-quick time. At that the whole column
moved on a smart trot. Some of us, at least, thought we were advancing
upon an enemy that had been discovered by the commander; but when we
had gone pell-mell over cobblerock and gullies, through brush and
cactus, for a distance of nearly three quarters of a mile, we received
the command to halt. Then came orders to left face, file left, march.
This move brought us back into the road, where we filed to the right
and marched on to the fort.

At the gates of the fort. Colonel Cooke made a brief speech, stating
that the soldiers and citizens had fled, leaving their property behind
and in our power; that we had not come to make war on Sonora; and that
there must not be any interference with the private property of the

We then marched through the town, where a few aged men and women and
some children brought us water and other small tokens of respect. We
made no halt in the village, which had contained some four or five
hundred inhabitants, of which number all but about a hundred had fled.
Our stop was made about half a mile down stream from the place.

In the town we made purchases of wheat, corn, beans and peas, which we
parched or boiled. We were so near starved that we could not wait for
this food to be more than half cooked before we ate it. There was no
general supply purchased at Tucson, but each man or mess obtained as
much as could be with the scanty means on hand.

On the night of December 17, Albern Allen and his son Rufus C. Allen
had been placed on picket guard above Tucson, with orders that if any
body of men, say ten or more, appeared, an alarm was to be fired, and
the guards were to run into camp. Sometime between midnight and two
o'clock a body of Mexicans put in an appearance, and the alarm was
given as ordered. The bugle sounded at the colonel's quarters, and soon
Lieutenant George Oman, who was officer of the day, rushed through the
camp, shouting, "Beat that drum; if you cannot beat the drum, beat the
fife!" The drum-major, R. D. Sprague, obeyed the order, and hit the
drum. Immediately the stern voice of the colonel shouted to cease that
music. In less time than it takes to tell it, lights sprang up through
the camp. Then came the sharp command from the colonel, "Dust those
fires!" and the flames went out; the adjutant rushed through the camp
with orders to the officers to form their companies into line, the men
were commanded to fall in, and all was rustle and bustle.

The writer had been up relieving his stomach of half-boiled wheat,
corn and peas, and had just got settled back in bed when the alarm
was fired, so he heard all that was going on. As we all slept in our
pantaloons, the first thing I thought of in that country of prickly
pears was my boots; and while reaching for these and bumping heads with
comrades, some of the men whose muskets were used for uprights for the
tent thought these the first articles in the emergency and seized them,
the tent coming down and the ridge-pole making another bump on heads.
At the same time we were all trapped in the fallen tent, which was
pinned down tight. I was trying to get the left boot on the right foot,
and my footwear being rather small I had no easy job. All being caught
in the tent-trap, the thought came how easy it would be for a body of
Mexican cavalry in a charge to cut us to pieces, and we soon burst
through the tent and fell into line.

For the first time in the whole march the writer brought up the rear
in getting to his place, and received a rebuke from the officer
in command, George P. Dykes. Right here, however, in that brief
experience, I learned a lesson I have never forgotten, namely, order
in dressing and undressing. We had been in the habit of putting
our clothing anywhere and each throwing his on top of another's,
if convenience appeared to suggest it, so that in the dark it was
difficult for each to get into his own raiment. I realized then how
important it was to have "a place for everything and everything in its
place;" hence to put every article of wearing apparel down so that in
the darkest hour of night I knew where to place my hand on it, and when
armed always to have my weapons in the best possible order and where
the hand might be laid on them without any mistakes.

Notwithstanding all the confusion, it seemed to me we were in line of
battle in very short order, awaiting an attack of Mexican cavalry.
There was a few minutes' breathless silence after we were ready for the
assault, and no enemy appearing, reconnoitering parties were sent out
to ascertain the true situation. We were held in readiness an hour or
more, then learning that everything was quiet, were permitted to retire
to our tents, but not without some apprehension of danger until the
dawn of day, which came bright and peaceful, and we began our march out
on what was known as the Ninety-five Mile Desert, which lay between us
and the Gila River.

After the first day's march on that awful stretch of barren waste, we
began to straggle along, and before the Gila was reached the command
was scattered along on the clay beds and sand strips for twenty miles.
We traveled night and day, not stopping at any one place more than six

The command was in a most deplorable condition on this journey. Many
were the men that lay down by the wayside without a hope that they
would live to reach water, and often thinking that they were behind the
command. But after they had rested for a few hours and perhaps dozed
long enough to dream that they died on the desert, and that the wolves
that were howling around were dragging their emaciated carcasses over
the sands or perchance in the alkali pools, so strongly impregnated
with poisonous stuff that it would consume, in a short time, the flesh
if not the bones also, then the thought of home and loved ones would
come; and what was sometimes last, though not the least, would be the
memory of the promises which the servants of God had made when we left
the dear ones of home. Then the worn and weary soldier would stagger
to his feet, survey the surroundings, and perhaps would catch sight,
in the distance, of some comrade who was staggering and reeling onward
toward the setting sun, and would follow in his path.

So the almost dead soldier would go on, his feet playing pit-a-pat as
they dragged past each other, until his limbs would refuse to carry him
farther, and down he would go and repeat the agonizing experience of
a few hours previous. He would also chew a buckshot or two to induce
moisture in his parching tongue, and would offer an earnest prayer from
his humble soul--a further exertion which he would not have brought his
wearied mind to do if it had not been for the confidence he placed in
the promises of God, made through His faithful servants.

Thus, dear reader, the renowned Mormon Battalion passed forward across
the great Gila Desert, almost without a human reason to hope that they
would reach the goal, and only able to accomplish their aim through
divine grace. When they succeeded in reaching the banks of the river,
their clothes were so tattered and torn that it was with difficulty
they could cover their nakedness.



WHERE we reached the Gila River it was a lovely stream, four or live
rods wide; but the country was covered with alkali grass and mesquit
brush. We rested part of a day, then proceeded down the river eight
or ten miles, coming to a Pima Indian village. The Pima Indians were
superior to any that we had fallen in with heretofore. They were an
agricultural people, peacefully inclined, and kind and loving toward
each other. Those in the village appeared the picture of good health.
They came and went by twos, the males and females keeping each sex,
to themselves. They seemed the most affectionate people I had ever
met; happy and innocent in appearance--a large and handsome class of
persons. Each Indian was wrapped in a large home-made blanket.

The Pimas had corn, wheat, pumpkins, beans, and, I think, peas. Some
of the Indians noted our wretched and starved condition, and cut up a
lot of pumpkins--as we cut them for cows. These they boiled, and handed
to the soldiers as the latter passed by and took the proffered food in
anything they could get to hold the steaming hot vegetables. The men
were indeed thankful for these favors, although they came from Indians.

It was between the 20th and 25th of December when we left the Pima
Indian village, and passed down the Gila River to a broad, open,
fertile valley in the Maricopa Indian country. At the Maricopa Indian
villages we met many fine specimens of the native inhabitants. We
traded brass buttons for food. One brass button had more purchasing
power than a five dollar gold piece.

It was some five or six days before we passed out of the Maricopas'
farming country. There was a large bend in the river, and we traveled
three days over a rough, sandy country before we came to the stream
again. On this march we camped without water. The writer was one of
those who stood guard around the stock. The feed was so scarce that
we were kept running all night. I was so completely worn out next day
that at about eleven a.m. I sought rest by dropping out of the command
and hiding from the rearguard behind a clump of brush that grew on a
sand knoll. No sooner had I laid down than I fell into a sound slumber,
oblivious to all danger.

When the writer awakened from that sleep the rearguard had passed on
long before; the sun had changed position so that the drowsy soldier
felt perfectly lost, but gradually he came to realize that it was three
or four o'clock p.m. Some six or eight feet from where he had been
lying he found fresh bear tracks, telling him of the wild beast that
had been viewing him while wrapt in slumber. He hurried forward on the
trail, and reached camp just as the night guards were being posted and
his comrades were becoming greatly concerned for his safety.

Our route lay down the river, through deep sand and mesquit brush,
where we had not only to chop and clear away the brush, but had to push
and pull the wagons until our souls as well as our bodies were worn
out. We gathered mesquit and a kind of pod to feed our mules. We were
six days traveling sixty miles, to the crossing of the Colorado River,
or Red River, as it was called by some.

The reader will not wonder that on reaching this point a mountain of
gloom rested upon the whole command, causing the men almost to despair
as they, on the 10th day of January, 1847, stood on the banks of the
swift-flowing Colorado--the stream being half a mile wide at that
place--with no alternative but to wade across, pulling and pushing at
the wagons, then to cut and burn their way out, through the thick brush
on the bottom land, to the bench or bluff that opened out on a barren
desert, known to the Mexicans as Tierra Caliente, or the Hot Lands.

Now the command entered upon another soul-trying march. The route from
the crossing of the Colorado was over the northeast corner of Lower
California, some sixty miles above the Gulf of California, then into
the south-eastern part of Upper California. The stronger men, with a
little extra ration, preceded the main army, to dig wells in the desert.

No sooner was the almost hopeless march commenced than men began to
lag behind, so that when the advance guard came to a halt at any part
of the journey, others were miles behind. The first day we came to a
well that General Phil. Kearney and his men had dug, but it had caved
in so badly that it was almost as much work to clean it as to dig a new
one; and when it was cleaned, our men dug another. The water was scant
and brackish. We remained at that point only until the rear of the
command caught up, then proceeded on our way, stopping but a short time
in any one place, until we reached Cariza, a splendid spring near the
base of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains. The first men to reach
water filled kegs and canteens, lashed them to the stouter animals, and
hastened back to succor and revive the famishing men who were bringing
up the rear.

On that terrible march many of the weaker men despaired of ever
reaching water. We passed several, who, with sunken and glazed eyes and
blackened mouths and looking as ghastly as death, stammered to us as
we passed them: "Goodby, I shall never live to reach water. I cannot
go a step farther, but shall die on this spot." Poor fellows! I verily
believe that if they had not been resuscitated by the water that was
carried back, their words would have been painfully true before the
rising of another sun.

If it had not been for some fresh mules and beef cattle that we met on
this tedious march, we never could have got through with the wagons,
and possibly would have lost some men, as our flour had given out and
we were reduced so near to starvation as to eat every particle of the
worn-out beef ox; even the tender part of the horns and hoofs, and the
intestines, were broiled on the coals and eaten, without water to wash

In our mess, the last spoonful of flour was made into a thin gravy by
stirring it into some water where some of our glue-like beef had been
boiled. This so-called gravy was divided among the men by spoonfuls,
then the pan was scraped with a table knife and wiped into a spoon,
and with the point of the same knife it was divided into seven parts.
Each man watched the division; and I do not believe there was one man
out of the seven but would have fought for his share of that spoonful
of pan-scrapings. Nor do I believe there was one of them who would
have robbed his comrades. For the last three or four hundred miles we
had been in the habit of cooking the food, and dividing it into seven
equal parts. Then one man would turn his back, and the cook or the one
who made the division would touch each morsel and say, "Who shall have
that?" whereupon the one whose back was turned would say, so and so,
calling each messmate by name, until all had been "touched off," as we
used to call it.

From our camp at the spring we passed into the canyons of the Sierra
Nevada. The days had been excessively hot on the desert, and it was
very cold and frosty in the mountains at night. We soon came to where
the canyons were too narrow for our wagons; then with crowbar and
pickaxe and sledge we went at the jagged rocks until the pass was
sufficiently widened, and with our shoulders to the wheels or by
tugging at ropes we got our train to the summit.

It was while passing through this range of mountains that we first saw
live-oak acorns. They were bitter as wormwood; yet we ate considerable
quantities of them, and as we descended the western slope they became
very abundant, and served for a change. As we passed down to the
valleys we found green mustard, which was boiled and eaten without
pepper or salt.

About this time one of our guides or interpreters brought word from
the governor of San Diego that several battles had been fought by the
California troops and United States forces, and that we might meet a
large Mexican army retreating to Sonora. In consequence of receiving
this news, Colonel Cooke ordered a drill. We had secured a few beef
cattle and some fresh mules, and with this increase of strength and the
prospect of engaging the Mexicans we were spurred on from one mountain
summit to another, pushing and pulling the wagons--a business we were
well versed in, from oft repeated lessons.

At Warner's Ranch, we came to the first house we had seen in
California. Mr. Warner hailed from the state of Massachusetts. From him
the colonel purchased two or three fat beeves. The beef was good, yet
we had nothing to eat with it, not even pepper or salt for seasoning,
and it did not satisfy the cravings of hunger. We rested a day at the
ranch, and some of us wandered off up the creek in hopes of finding
wild fruit or game. We came to a small camp of Indians who were engaged
in hulling and leaching live-oak acorns, then pounding them to a pulp
in stone mortars; this was boiled to a thick mush in home-made earthen
pots. The writer bantered one of the old ladies for about three or four
quarts of that cold-ochre mush, by offering her the belt that held
his pantaloons in place. She accepted the offer, and he, being without
proper utensil to receive his purchase, substituted his hat for a pan,
and the mush was scooped into it. Then when he found himself in the
dilemma of his pantaloons threatening to desert him, he seized the
alternative of holding up that portion of his attire with one hand, and
carrying his hat and its contents in the other, and proceeded to camp,
where his purchase was divided and devoured as a sweet morsel.

From Warner's Ranch we traveled over low hills and camped on a little
narrow flat between two hills. In the night it came on to rain
terribly, and the flat was so flooded that we awoke to find ourselves
half-side deep in water. At dawn one of the boys crawled out of the
water and wet blankets, and crowed; for he had learned that the men who
had been sent back to recover some flour which had been left in the
boat had come in with about four hundred pounds. Soon every man in camp
had heard the glad tidings of the arrival of this expedition, about
which there had been much anxiety.

In a short time the writer was called on by the orderly sergeant of
his company, D, to go with him and receive the portion of flour to be
issued to the company. At the door of the tent where the flour was
being divided we met Col. Cooke, who was sitting with his head down, as
if in deep study. Some of the boys had found a riddle that had fared
better than its owner, and near by one of them struck up the tune
of "Leather Breeches Full of Stitches," or some similar lively air.
Immediately a number of men formed a couple of French fours and began
dancing in water half to their shoe tops. The colonel caught the sound,
started up, and inquired what it was. Some one replied, "Oh, nothing,
only the boys are dancing and making merry over the prospect of getting
a little flour." The colonel shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "I
never saw such a d--d set of men before in my life. If they can get out
somewhere so they can dry their clothes and have a little flour they
will be as happy as gods!"

Doubtless the colonel could call to mind often having seen us stagger
into camp, and perhaps could remember a dozen or so of us rush to where
his mule was being fed corn mixed with beans, which the well-fed mule
would object to by throwing his head first one way, then the other,
scattering the half-chewed corn and beans in the sand, where the hungry
soldiers would pick it from, rub it in their hands, and eat it raw; for
to the famishing soldier beans are not so objectionable.

I am reminded at this point in my narrative that three croaking ravens
had followed the command nearly all the way from Santa Fe, for the
bits that escaped the soldier's eye. Surely if it had not been for the
ravens' keener vision they would have left in disgust, and would have
given us a very hard name. Even the wolf might have told his fellows
not to follow such a greedy lot, which did not leave a bone till it was
pounded and boiled and re-boiled till it could not be scented, and if
perchance a bit was found it was too hard for even wolves' teeth.

From this camp we moved to the west under orders from General Kearney
to go to Los Angeles. While on the march toward that point, just as we
emerged from a canyon, we heard the drum and fife in an open valley.
Soon we saw a military force forming in line of battle, and as we drew
nearer we discovered their spears or lances gleaming in the sunlight,
and officers dashing up and down the lines giving commands. Our advance
guard slowed up, and we were ordered to form in line of battle. Every
officer took his place, the command dressed in proper order, and, as we
advanced, comrades looked into each other's faces as if to say, "How
do you feel about it?" One asked Alexander Stephens the question, and
received a prompt reply, "First-rate. I had as lief go into battle as
not. If we must die, the sooner the better, for it seems that we must
be worn till we starve and die anyhow. I do not fear death a particle."
Others were heard to say as much, and although the ashy look of death
shone in many faces, from the privations undergone, I do not think
there was a tremor in any heart, or a single man who showed the white

As we drew near the force in our path, there was a dead silence, as if
awaiting the order to wheel into line and open fire, for we were within
rifle range. Just then two of the opposite party came out on horseback
to meet us. The colonel sent two of our interpreters forward, and
the command was halted. Soon our guides returned and stated that the
supposed foe was a band of Indians which had had a battle with Mexicans
in the vicinity a few days before, and the Indians had returned to bury
their dead. They had taken us for enemies, but their fears were turned
into joy on discovering that we were American soldiers.

With all our bravery, there was a sigh of relief when we heard the news
that our supposed enemies were friends. It was now late in the day.
and both parties went into camp within a short distance of each other.
Friendly visits back and forth were made that evening. The Indians were
dressed in Spanish costume and were armed the same as the Mexicans;
as I remember them they displayed bravery, and some skill in Mexican
military tactics.

Next day we proceeded on our way, and passed down a dry wash, the
bottom of which was mostly lined with a whitish cobblestone, upon which
the feet of some comrade showed blood at every step for a hundred yards
or more. I cannot now recall the man's name. We continued our march
from that place, and afterwards learned that the Mexicans had intended
to make an effort to regain California, but the timely arrival of the
battalion prevented any attempt to execute the movement.

So far as I can remember, it was between January 23 and 27, 1847, that
we passed over a battlefield where General Kearney and his little
command had fought and beaten the Mexicans. There lay broken swords and
firearms, and dead horses and mules; and there also were the graves of
the slain, while all around the blood-stained soil was plainly within
our view, fixing the scene upon our memory.

Here came to our minds the words of President Brigham Young, in his
farewell address to the battalion, in which he said: "You are now going
into an enemy's land at your country's call. If you will live your
religion, obey and respect your officers, and hold sacred the property
of the people among whom you travel, and never take anything but what
you pay for, I promise you in the name of Israel's God that not one of
you shall fall by the hand of an enemy. Though there will be battles
fought in your front and in your rear, on your right hand and on your
left, you will not have any fighting to do except with wild beasts."

Here I pause and ask: Who on earth dare to make, of himself, such a
promise, under the circumstances and in the name that this promise had
been made? And yet over three hundred men who heard it could stand
up after they had filled the time of their enlistment, and before
high heaven and all the world could bear testimony to the literal
fulfillment of those words spoken eight months before, in the camp in
Missouri Valley, two thousand miles distant. I ask the honest reader:
From whence came such foresight, if not from the Eternal God, the
Creator of the heavens and the earth, and all things therein? To Him we
ascribe all honor and glory, power and praise, for our success in that
great, wonderful and unparalleled march of twenty-five hundred miles
made by infantry. Who shall say that God had not made bare His arm in
support of that ever memorable Mormon Battalion? But as yet the whole
task of the battalion had not been completed.



ORDERS had been received changing our destination from Los Angeles to
San Diego, passing by way of the Mission San Luis del Rey. When we
reached the San Diego Mission we passed it by and camped between it and
the town. It was en route to this place that we came in sight of the
waters of the great Pacific Ocean, a view that was most pleasurable to
us, and which we hailed with shouts of joy, as we felt that our long
march of starvation was about over. We were now drawing five pounds of
fair beef, without salt or pepper.

Another day's march, and we had completed the journey over the nation's
highway across the continent. We were allowed one day at San Diego,
when we were ordered back to the San Luis del Rey Mission. There
was some disappointment, but the order to return was obeyed without
murmuring. It was thought we would meet the enemy, as it was said there
was a force of about eighteen hundred Californians, under General
Flores, lurking in the mountains northwest of San Luis del Rey Mission,
but we did not see them. At the Mission we were required to do fatigue
duty, as it was called, which included cleaning up the place, it having
been neglected a long time. At this place the following was issued by
Col. Cooke:

                                 "HEADQUARTERS, MISSION OF SAN DIEGO,

                                                    "January 30, 1847.

"Lieutenant Colonel commanding congratulates the battalion on its safe
arrival on the shores of the Pacific Ocean, and the conclusion of its
march of over two thousand miles. History may be searched in vain for
an equal march of infantry; nine-tenths of it through a wilderness,
where nothing but savages and wild beasts are found, or deserts where,
for want of water, there is no living creature. There, with almost
hopeless labor, we have dug deep wells, which the future traveler will
enjoy. Without a guide who had traversed them, we have ventured into
trackless prairies, where water was not found for several marches. With
crowbar and pickaxe in hand, we have worked our way over mountains,
which seemed to defy aught save the wild goat, and hewed a passage
through a chasm of living rock more narrow than our wagons. To bring
these first wagons to the Pacific, we have preserved the strength of
the mules by herding them over large tracts, which you have laboriously
guarded without loss.

"The garrison of four presidios of Sonora, concentrated within the
walls of Tucson, gave us no pause; we drove them out with their
artillery; but our intercourse with the citizens was unmarked by a
single act of injustice. Thus marching, half naked and half fed, and
living upon wild animals, we have discovered and made a road of great
value to our country.

"Arrived at the first settlement of California, after a single day's
rest, you cheerfully turned off from the route to this point of
promised repose, to enter upon a campaign, and meet, as we believed,
the approach of the enemy; and this, too, without even salt to season
your sole subsistence of fresh meat.

"Lieutenants A.J. Smith and George Stoneman of the First Dragoons, have
shared and given valuable aid in all these labors.

"Thus, volunteers, you have exhibited some high and essential qualities
of veterans. But much remains undone. Soon you will turn your strict
attention to the drill, to system and order, to forms also, which are
all necessary to the soldier.

                 "By order of Lieutenant-Colonel P. St. George Cooke.

                                 [Signed.] "P. C. Merrill, Adjutant."

It is stated by Sergeant Daniel Tyler, in his "History of the Mormon
Battalion," that February 4th was the date of the reading of the order.
Its spirit and tone were an agreeable surprise to us, as the general
tenor of the colonel's course had been so different, apparently, that
we did not look for him to do the battalion justice. Yet if he had
been less stern and decisive, it would have been worse for us. We had
stern realities to deal with, consequently like means were necessary
to overcome the obstacles we had to contend with. It required push and
vim to enable the battalion to perform the heroic deeds demanded of it,
and a sympathy that would have caused the men to shrink back instead
of seeing that every one stood to his post of duty would have been a
fatal error. After all, Col. P. St. George Cooke was a good military
commander, maintaining excellent military discipline; and for one the
writer feels to say, Peaceful be his sleep.

It was about the 4th or 5th of February when we got back to the
mission, and the order given, with others, was made known. The other
orders included such directions as to trim the hair so that none came
below the tip of the ear, and shave the beard all but the mustache.

We were informed that we had no right to think in acting for
ourselves--that the government paid men to think for us, and it was our
duty to obey orders. We were allowed very little time in which to wash
our rags and hunt down the insects that had waged a continuous warfare
on us all the way from Albuquerque or the Rio Grande del Norte to the
coast; yet we turned on the creeping foe, and never relented till we
routed him, nor showed any quarter till the last one was gone. We also
had to repel an attack from the nimble flea in great numbers, in which
we realized that this impudent insect did not care where he hit.

While we were still living on beef alone, without pepper or salt, we
were ordered out on squad drill, which seemed to continue about eight
hours per day. The reason given for this was the supposed threatened
attack from eight hundred Californians in the mountains; and further,
the rumors that Col. John C. Fremont, with eight hundred or a thousand
men, claimed it was his right, and not Gen. Kearney's, to dictate
to the United States forces in California. In fact, it was reported
that Col. Fremont was in open hostility to Gen. Kearney, who was
military governor of California by orders from Washington. Under these
circumstances, we were kept in constant readiness, not knowing the
moment we would be called into active service.

Our training daily was one hour for each pound of beef issued, the beef
costing less than a cent a pound to the government. Sergeant Tyler says
our rations were five pounds a day, and I say it was not half enough,
for we were ravenously hungry all the time. If the reader doubts this,
let him try the ration for a little while, and doubt will disappear.

About February 25 we obtained bolted flour and some other supplies of
provisions that had been brought from the Sandwich Islands, by Major
Sward, to San Diego, and thence to San Luis del Rey by mule team. In
the meantime we had received a small amount of unbolted flour, brought
by Lieutenant Oman and a small detachment of the battalion sent out for
the purpose. Then the beef rations were reduced; so that during the
whole twelve months' service we did not once have issued to us the full
rations allowed by the government to the American soldier--if we had
full rations in one thing, another was lacking. Either the government
made a great saving from regulations in feeding us, or a steal put
money into some contractors' pockets.

Day after day the duties of soldier were performed, drilling, out on
detached duty, or marching here, there and everywhere, early and late,
by day and by night, just to suit the fancy of some of our officers,
and not always upon real occasion for the movements. It would seem that
in many respects the soldier's life is much like a faithful wife's; and
in others much unlike a woman's work. Like hers, in that the task seems
never done, busy all day and up at every hour of night in response to
calls of first one child, then another, or even to the exploits of
some mischievous cat, her rest broken and her life worn away; unlike
hers, in that she usually has a dry shelter, regular meals, and a
place to lie down when she can rest, while the soldier in time of war
never knows where he will make his bed at night, often is without food
and drink, having to move at the word of command over deserts, rocks,
mountains, plains and rivers--a stranger to the locality he may call
his home. But the toils of both are necessary, she to rear the nation's
pride and strength--a soldier in the right; he to protect her and
himself, to defend their country's rights and avenge her wrongs.

Returning to the narrative of garrison duty, it appeared to me the
hours of drill were more than Sergeant Tyler's account will admit of;
but I shall not dispute with him, as I write from memory. I do recall
that roll call came at daylight, sick call at 7:30 a.m., breakfast call
at 8:40, drill at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. roll call at sundown, tattoo at
8:30, and taps at 9 p.m., after which lights must be out except in case
of sickness. All must be silent then, as the men are supposed to have
retired for the night.

On or near the 20th of March, companies A, C, D and E took up their
journey to the Puebla de Los Angeles. We traveled over a hilly country,
where there were numerous herds of cattle and bands of horses. In some
places we passed down to and along the sandy beach around big bluffs
over which, so we were told, the Californians, some years previously,
had driven thousands of horses and cattle to rid the country of them,
as they had overrun the place so that all were suffering for food. This
story seemed confirmed by the great amount of bones that we saw among
the rocks and sands at the foot of deep declivities along the seashore.

On the way to Los Angeles we passed a stone church that had been badly
shaken; the walls had been good mason work, but now were mostly broken
down. We were told that an earthquake did the damage, and that some
three hundred people had been killed. On by the San Gabriel River we
went, arriving at Los Angeles in about four days' march from where we
had started out. We marched into the main street and stacked our arms
as if to say, "We have possession here."

Most of the citizens stood aloof, looking as if the cause they had
supported was lost, but soon the merchants brought out buckets of
whisky and wine, which they set before the command, inviting us to help
ourselves. Some accepted the invitation rather freely, while others
refrained from touching the beverages. We returned to the river at
night, and camped. In a day or two we were marched about two miles up
the stream, and above the town, where we again ran out of provisions
and had to go hungry; nor did we break our fast till 11 a.m. next day.

At this time the air was full of alarming rumors. A revolt of Californians
was talked of; then it was Fremont who was said to be in
rebellion against General Kearney's authority; and again, a powerful
band of Indians was ready to pounce down upon us. It was not very
unexpectedly, therefore, that we received orders to occupy the most
commanding point overlooking the town. Soon after this we learned that
a supply of provisions for the command had been landed at San Pedro,
about twenty-one miles distant, and teams and wagons were sent at once,
under an escort of soldiers, the writer being one. We returned next
day, heavily loaded.

About this date, the command began the erection of a fort, or rather
began to throw up earthworks. Lieutenant Rosecranz was ordered with a
small detachment to Cajon Pass, a narrow opening in the Sierra Nevada
range, about eighty miles east of us. The object was to guard the pass
against the advance of any foe, for, as has been said, there were many
rumors of impending danger. In a short time, Lieutenant Pace, with
twenty-nine officers and men of the battalion--the writer being one of
the number--received orders to relieve the detachment of Lieutenant
Rosecranz. Pace's command had just reached the Rosecranz party, finding
the latter in the act of striking camp, when a dispatch came by pony
express ordering us to return as well.

On our march out, the wild cattle, which were there by thousands,
became excited and began to bellow and crowd toward us. We could see
them for miles coming on the run. They closed in quickly until we were
surrounded by them on three sides, with a deep gulch or very brushy
ravine on the fourth. We retreated in double-quick time to this gulch,
and were compelled to remain in what shelter it afforded until the next
day, before we could pass on in safety.

The unsettled state of the country kept us constantly busy. Our fort
was pushed to completion, and we having obtained what artillery Colonel
Fremont had, the twelve or fifteen pieces now in our possession were
placed in proper position for defense. Everything was made as complete
as could be, and the warclouds began to give way. Fremont had been
placed under arrest for insubordination or rebellion, I do not recall
which, and this contributed to the peace of the country.

A Spaniard was hired to haul a liberty pole from San Bernardino Canyon,
a distance of eighty miles, and as he dared not undertake the journey
without a military escort, Corporal Lafayette Shepherd and fourteen
men, among whom the writer was included, were sent to protect the
Spaniard and help get the pole down to the fort. On that trip we camped
on the present site of San Bernardino City, then a wild and lonely
wilderness, with not a house or farm in sight. At that time the country
abounded in wild cattle, bear, and other wild animals.

Just where we came out on the plain we camped for the night, and in the
morning our Spanish friend went out into the hills to see if he could
kill a deer. Soon he came upon a party of Indians jerking beef, and he
shot into their camp. They came out, returned his fire, and gave him
chase. We were getting breakfast when he dashed into our camp, shouting
that the Indians were upon us, and for us to get our guns. Of course,
we complied, and were ready in short order, but as no Indians came, the
Spaniard insisted that we go in and rout them, as they were killing the
citizens' cattle, and our commander had given a promise of protection
from this. Hastily we saddled our mules and started, expecting every
moment to meet the Indians, who were on foot. We found no one before we
came to the campfires, around which was strewn considerable beef. Soon
we discovered the Indians fleeing up the mountain, and on our jaded
mules we gave chase, but when we reached the summit the Indians were
going up the opposite ridge. We dismounted and poured a few volleys
into the brush above them. They did not fire back. I do not think any
harm was done. They were fleeing for their lives and did not show
any opposition to us, and we had no desire to harm them, but simply
to demonstrate to the Californians that as United States soldiers we
were ready to protect them and their property, as was promised by our

We hastened back to the fort with our charge, the logs in the rough
being about fifty feet each, the two making a pole between ninety and
ninety-five feet long when completed, which was done by the members of
the battalion at the fort.

Another event about this period was an order by Colonel Cooke for a
detail of good marksmen and trusty men to go through the town and shoot
or bayonet all the dogs to be found in the streets. The colonel had
notified the town authorities of his intention. Accordingly the detail
was made and ammunition issued. The writer was one of the trusted
marksmen. We sallied forth in the town of Los Angeles, where the dogs
were more numerous than human beings, and commenced our disagreeable
and deadly work. Muskets rattled in every street and byway, dogs barked
and howled in every direction, and women and children wept to have
the animals spared. But military orders had to be obeyed, for the dog
nuisance had become intolerable. After that, there were sanitary orders
sent forth, and the streets were cleared of the dogs and a great amount
of bones and other rubbish.

With all this cleaning up, there still was tolerated the greater
nuisances of liquor drinking, gambling, the most lewd and obscene
conduct that could be imagined, Sabbath breaking by horse racing, cock
and bull righting, men righting and knifing one another--indeed, the
Sabbath was the greater day for all these vices.

Bull fighting was carried on inside of a square of one to four acres
surrounded by one-story adobe flat-roofed houses, on which spectators
would climb, and thus have an excellent view of the whole exhibition
of cruelty and bravado and jeopardy to life. Numbers of the wildest
and most ferocious bulls were taken, and were brought into the arena
one at a time. The animal was turned loose, and a man would tease him
into fury with a sharp lance. A horseman would charge and make thrust
after thrust at the maddened bull, striving to pierce him just behind
the horns, the aim being to cut the pith of the spinal column at that
point. If this were done, the animal would fall dead on the spot. As
a general thing, the bull was more apt to gore the rider's horse, and
give the rider himself a very close call; but a number of very expert
horsemen were kept in readiness to lasso the bull or cast a blanket
over his eyes and thus blindfold him until his tormentor got out of
danger. In this cruel sport many horses were sacrificed, and sometimes
the riders as well. It was not an unusual thing for a hundred or more
of these wild bulls to be collected at a time, and the bloody sport to
be kept up three or four days and perhaps more. Sometimes a grizzly
bear would be captured and turned loose with a wild bull, the death
of one and perhaps both being the result. The whole populace seemed
to enjoy this cruel sport, shouting and screaming thereat all the day
long. Males and females, of all ages and conditions, met on a common
level to witness this wild and reckless amusement.

Horse racing took place on the principal streets. One popular part of
this pastime was to secure an old male chicken; this was buried all but
the head in a hole in the street, the soil being packed in as tight as
could be and have the bird live. An Indian stood by to rebury the fowl
as fast as the horsemen resurrected him by seizing him by the head when
riding past at full speed. The aim was to swoop down, seize the cock's
head, pull the bird out of the hole, and hold to the head to the end of
the contest, which was indulged in by a dozen or more. When one rider
tore the bird from the hole all the others would charge on him and try
to capture it. The possessor would strike right and left, to hold his
prize, until the poor fowl was torn to pieces. Often the bird fell to
the ground alive, was buried again, and some one else would lead in
the dash for it. Just before the rider reached the fowl, a horseman
on either side would lash the horse unmercifully, so that the rider
could not slow up to get a better chance at the exposed head. This game
would be continued till some one carried the fowl's head to the end in

It was said that a scheme existed to draw the attention of the
Americans during the most exciting of these sports, and then raid our
camp; but if this ever was thought of it failed, for with us everything
was kept in readiness for an emergency, and sometimes we lay at night
with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets. Besides, we had become very
proficient in military tactics, and every man had learned well his duty
as a soldier.

The fort having been completed, and every reasonable anticipation for
surprise in the return of the Mexican forces or for an uprising having
been cut off, on the morning of the Fourth of July, 1847, the Stars and
Stripes was hoisted on the pole in triumph, and floated in the breezes
from the Pacific Ocean--I think the first time that glorious banner
waved from a liberty pole in California, although Commodore Sloat had
raised the American flag at Monterey on July 7, 1846.



THE members of the Mormon Battalion had been purchasing horses and
mules and a general outfit for a return to our friends at the close
of our term of enlistment, which was drawing nigh. At the same time,
Col. Stephenson, of the New York volunteers, and other commissioned
officers, were making strenuous efforts to have us re-enlist for
another twelve months, or six months at least, telling us they had
authority to impress us if they chose, but they preferred to have us
come as volunteers. It had been reported that although the Californians
had been whipped, there was not concord, and that as soon as the Mormon
Battalion left the country the Californians would revolt and make an
effort to overthrow United States supremacy; but while we remained
there was no fear.

Now, as there were many of the battalion who had spent all their
wages--ninety-six dollars for their year's service--it may have
appeared to them that the only thing to do was to re-enlist. Horses
could be purchased cheaply, and provisions were not high, but some
money was needed. Consequently, one company re-enlisted under Capt.
Davis of company E, while the rest of the command were busy preparing
for their journey east to meet the Saints somewhere, they knew not just

Comparatively few of our command had acquired sufficient knowledge
of the Spanish language to do their own trading, and these acted as
interpreters for their comrades. The writer happened to be one of
the few who had made some success in picking up the language. On one
occasion, when hunting the town and adjacent country for such articles
as we needed in our outfit, he became fatigued and went into a cafe
for a cup of coffee. On entering the restaurant he found, besides the
landlord, three or four good-appearing Spaniards, who soon began to
question him about the United States and its people. Their questions
were being answered in a courteous manner, when the attendant, who was
a tall, fine-looking Spaniard, interposed with the remark that America
was a fine country, but her soldiers were cowards and babies. The
writer was alone, and scarcely knew how to treat the insult; besides,
there was a possibility that it was intended as a joke. Therefore, he
felt that it would be improper to be too abrupt in replying, and said,
quietly, that America was a good country and her soldiers were the
bravest of the brave.

At that moment the Spanish-Californian stepped back and brought out
an American hat that had been cut through on the side by some sharp
instrument. Said he: "Here is one's hat--I killed him in battle. He
was a great baby." Reaching back, he brought out a dragoon's sword and
a holster, with two iron-mounted U. S. pistols. His eyes flashed, and
he mimicked the dying soldier, saying all the Americans were cowards.
My blood was up, and I taunted him by asking him how it was, if the
Americans were such cowards and babies, and fled from the Spaniards on
the battlefield, that the Americans had taken the country. Pointing to
the Stars and Stripes floating over the fort on the hill, I said, "That
shows where the brave men are; it is the Californians who are cowards
and babies." In an instant a pistol was snapped in my face, and I saw
the fire roll from the flintlock. Quick as a flash, I caught a heavy
knife that was handy, leaped on to the counter, and was bringing the
weapon down on the head of my assailant, when both of us were seized by
bystanders, and were disarmed. I started for camp, but was dragged back
to compromise the affair. When I re-entered the room the proprietor
was priming his weapon with mustard seed. He said it was all fun, and
we should make up. The spectators were anxious to settle, and offered
to treat. Some of the Spaniards expressed regret at the occurrence.
The matter was dropped, though I never was convinced that that Spanish
attendant did not have murder in his heart.

On another occasion I had an unpleasant experience with another
Spaniard. It was when I was on guard duty at the prison in Los Angeles.
A very large, well dressed Spaniard came across the street from a
drinking saloon and gambling den. He wore a large sombrero worth about
eight dollars. He had been gambling and drinking, but was not drunk.
Said he, "I have lost all my money, and I want to leave this hat with
you for four dollars. If I do not bring the money back, you may keep
the hat; it is worth eight dollars, and will sell for that any day."
His offer was rejected, when he showed some displeasure, again
urging the loan, and promising to bring the money back in a short time.
Finally he prevailed, left the hat and took the money.

In two or three hours the Spaniard returned, saying he wanted his
sombrero, at the same time promising to bring the money next day. Of
course this proposition was rejected, whereupon he showed considerable
temper, but at last said it was all right, he would find the money; and
added, "Come over to the saloon and have a drink of wine, and we will
be good friends." Thinking that would settle the matter, I complied
with his request. He had on a long Spanish sarapa, or blanket, and as
we neared the door he stepped ahead, leaned over the counter, and said
something to the bartender. As I entered the door I was again asked for
the hat, and he in turn was requested to hand over the money. He grew
angry, threatened, and finally challenged me to fight. As I squared off
to meet his impending assault, the Spaniard drew a large bowie knife
for a thrust at me, but was stopped by some bystanders. I was at the
time nineteen years of age, and my young blood was thoroughly aroused.
I rushed for my musket, which was loaded and had bayonet fixed, and
with the hurting end foremost I was quickly back at the saloon,
forcibly declaring my readiness for the conflict. The bystanders closed
in and called for peace, the four dollars was soon raised, and the
sombrero found its way back into the hands of its angry owner, who
displayed considerable effect of the liquor he had been drinking. But I
learned an impressive lesson, namely, to avoid the companionship of men
who drink intoxicants or who follow games of chance for a livelihood.
Even if a man does not indulge himself, those who do are liable to
ask favors, and if these are not granted the next thing is insult,
which often ends in bloodshed, or did in those days in California. In
illustration of the light estimate of human life, I can recall a man's
foot being kicked about the street, and no more notice being taken of
it than if it were an animal's.

As to Spanish character, the writer can say from a close acquaintance
that when the Spaniards are sober and friendly, they are very friendly,
hospitable and polite, being very good company; in fact, we seldom
met with a more wholesouled and agreeable people. Yet it is doubtful
if there are any people who will resent an insult quicker and more
seriously than they will. They are brave and manly; yet those who are
of mixed blood, such as the Greasers, are low, degraded, treacherous
and cruel. In California there were a few of the higher class, many
more of a medium kind, and still more of the lower class; so that in
summing up the total of California's inhabitants in 1846-7, the country
was only half civilized and thinly inhabited.

At that time the country was wild, being overrun with wilder horses,
cattle, sheep and goats. In places, wild oats and mustard abounded,
in many sections the mustard being as high as a man's head when on
horseback, and so dense that a horse could be forced only a few
feet through it. In the foothills and mountains wild game was very
abundant, consisting of elk, deer, bear, and smaller game. Along the
water courses and on the lakes waterfowl was plentiful. There were
millions of acres of uncultivated land, as good as any on the globe.
The climate is scarcely equalled anywhere. The chief products of the
soil then were wheat, barley, beans, peas, apples, peaches, plums,
apricots, pears, dates, figs, olives, grapes, black pepper, spices,
and many fruits not named here. These all seemed to grow very near to
perfection, especially when properly cared for. The greater part of
the labor was performed by native Indians, and that too with the most
primitive tools. The buildings were low, being one-story adobe, with
flat roofs covered with cement, or a natural tar that exuded from the
earth; sometimes tile was used, but I do not remember seeing one brick
building or shingle roof in all the land.

Under the conditions which existed, it was no easy matter for a hundred
and fifty men to get an outfit together to travel over the mountains
east, as that number of the battalion intended to do; but having
commenced before we were discharged from service--say some time in
June--to purchase our horses, saddles, and everything necessary for a
pack train, we were partly prepared for the journey when the day came
for us to be mustered out.



ON the 16th of July, 1847, the close of the Mormon Battalion's term of
enlistment, we were called into line, and an officer passed along as in
ordinary inspection. Then, without further ceremony, he said. "You are
discharged." I do not think one-half of the command heard him, he spoke
so low. Some of us thought he may have felt ashamed because of his
conduct toward us on our march to Santa Fe. He was the little bigot,
Lieutenant A. J. Smith.

Thus we bade adieu to United States military authority and returned
to the ranks of civil life. One hundred and fifty of us organized
ourselves into hundreds, fifties and tens, and were soon on our way
to meet our friends somewhere, as we supposed, in the Rocky Mountains
east; and still we did not know just where. We sought information as
best we could, and the most that we could learn was that by following
under the base of the Sierra Nevada range six hundred miles we would
come to Sutter's Fort, where we could obtain further information as to
the best route to where we supposed we would find our friends.

It was about the 20th of July when the first company moved out on the
intended journey; and in three or four days the remaining hundred
followed. We passed Gen. Pico's ranch about twenty miles northward,
and from there crossed over a mountain so high and steep that it made
our heads swim, and it was with difficulty that we could sit on our
horses. In places, it was impossible for us to dismount, for lack of
room. Two mules lost their footing and fell twenty-five or thirty feet
before they could regain a foothold, and it was very hard work to get
them back on the trail. We traveled some eighteen or twenty miles from
Pico's ranch to Francisco ranch, where we joined the fifty who had
preceded the main body, and were waiting for us to come up.

A meeting was held, at which it was decided to purchase forty or fifty
beef cattle, which was done at not to exceed four dollars per head. The
course of our journey from this time was northward. The country where
we were traveling was a wilderness of hill and dale, deep gorges, and
brush, so that the first two days we lost ten or fifteen head of beef
cattle. It was decided to make sure of the remainder by slaughtering
and jerking or curing the beef, and next morning there came a battle
with the cattle, which had become wild and ferocious, plunging at the
men on horseback everywhere, so we had to shoot them down as best we
could. After stopping two or three days to jerk the beef, we proceeded
on our journey.

Many of our horses were bronchos, or wild, when we purchased them, and
gave us much trouble. The packs would get loose and turn under the
animals, which would run and kick, scattering things as they went.
One day Alexander Stephens, William Garner and I had a horse stampede
with its burden. I gave pursuit, and as I had no thought of anything
but capturing the animal, I chased it about three miles, right into
an Indian camp. The Indians must have seen me coming and fled. Their
fires were burning, pots boiling, and camp equipage laid around. From
appearances there must have been fifteen to twenty families; their
tracks were thick and fresh. The runaway horse seems to have been
so excited that, like its pursuer, it ran in among the camp before
observing the danger; then it turned and I secured it with a lasso.
At that moment I recognized the peril of my own position, in the
possibility of being ambushed by Indians. It may be needless to state
that I got out of that place in a hurry; although I had lost sight of
the camp and was confused for a little time till I found my trail.

Upon returning, I met my two comrades, who had had all they could do
to take care of the other pack animals, and were very anxious about
me. It was getting late in the day, and the company had passed out of
sight. We followed as fast as we could, but darkness overtook us and
we soon found ourselves wandering in the bullrushes and marshes of the
east end of Tulare Lake. Turn which way we would we could not find any
trail out. At last we found a spot more solid than the surroundings;
we halted and felt around in the darkness; every way we went it was
mud and water. The night was so dark that we could not see each other
or the horses, and finally we tied the animals together so we could
hold them, took off the pack, and waited around till daylight. I do not
think either of us slept fifteen minutes that night. We had nothing to
make a fire with, and if we had, it would not have been wise to have
attracted savage Indians with one. Early in the morning we prepared to
seek a way out, and to our surprise, discovered close by a bullrush
boat which an aged Indian was pushing through the rushes. The boat had
been made by twisting and braiding the rushes together, and reminded us
of what the prophet says about embassadors going forth in vessels of
bullrushes. We could not learn from whence the Indian came or whither
he was going, nor yet his errand. We bade him good day, and soon found
the trail of our company. After going three or four miles, we met some
of our men who had been sent in search of us; they had passed the night
in great anxiety concerning our safety. Thankfully we reached the camp
to have a bite of food and proceed on our journey, grateful that we yet
had our hair on the top of our heads, where the darkey says; "the wool
ought to grow."

Our journey took us over cold mountain streams, some of which we
forded, carrying our baggage on our heads and making from three to five
trips each way; others we built rafts for, by tying dry logs together
with our lash-ropes, piling them with baggage, and drawing them over
or pushing them with poles, the men swimming their horses and often
themselves. These streams were quite numerous. Among those I remember
were the Tulare, the San Joaquin River, and others. The crossing of
these streams was hard on man and beast, the water being cold close to
the mountains, and the work hazardous owing to the rapid currents and
boulders in the channels of the rivers. On this journey we were two
days on dry plains, and suffered almost to death; some of our horses
became so thirsty that their eyes turned white as milk and blind as
bats; they staggered against anything they came to. Some of the men
gave out entirely, and if it had not been for some of the stronger men
and horses that pushed forward and then returned to aid the others,
many of the latter never would have been able to have reached camp. Men
had their tongues swollen and eyes sunken and glazed; some could not
drink water when it was brought to them, until their lips and mouths
had been bathed and some of the liquid poured into their throats.
Fortunately for the writer, he was one of the stronger ones who went
ahead and returned to his comrades the last day on the desert; the
scene was terrible beyond the powers of description.

Fully five hundred and fifty miles of that journey was made without
seeing a house, or a white woman or child. There were many Indians
and their ranches, but the savages gave us no particular trouble. We
pressed forward till August 26, when we came to the American River,
two miles above Sutter's Fort and about a mile and a half from the
Sacramento River, at the point where the city of Sacramento now stands.
The locality was then a forest of cottonwood timber and undergrowth.

When we reached the vicinity of Sutter's Fort a consultation was held,
at which it was decided that most of the party would remain until
next year, and obtain employment where they could. Captain John A.
Sutter and James Marshall contemplated building a gristmill and also a
sawmill, but had no skilled workmen to perform the task. Accordingly,
a committee was appointed from our number, who informed Captain
Sutter that we had among us carpenters, blacksmiths, wheelwrights,
millwrights, farmers and common laborers; that we were in need of
horses, cattle, and a general outfit for crossing the mountains early
the next summer, and that if we could not get all money for our pay
we would take part in supplies for our journey; the committee also
inquired what the prospect for employment was. Captain Sutter gave the
committee encouragement, and asked them to call on him again in two or
three days.

The result was, that between August 29 and September 5, from forty to
sixty of us called on Captain Sutter. Some were employed to work on the
gristmill; others took contracts on the mill race. The race was seven
or eight miles long, and was also intended for irrigation.

Between the 8th and the 11th of September, Alexander Stephens, James
Berger and the writer started for the site that had been selected by
Mr. Marshall for the sawmill; we were the first Mormons to arrive at
the place. Peter L. Wimmer and family and William Scott had preceded
us a few days, having two wagons loaded with tools and provisions; the
teams were oxen, and were driven by two of Captain Sutter's civilized
Indians. Some weeks after we went up, Henry W. Bigler, Azariah Smith,
William Johnston, and Israel Evans, members of the Mormon Battalion,
came to the camp.

Upon our arrival at the millsite, work was begun in earnest. The cabin
was finished, a second room being put on in true frontier style. While
some worked on the cabin, others were getting out timbers and preparing
for the erection of the sawmill. The site was at a point where the
river made considerable of a bend, just in the bank of what appeared to
be an old river bed, which was lowered to carry the water from the mill.

Between January 15th and 20th, 1848, the mill was started up. It was
found that it had been set too low, and the tail race would not carry
off the water, which would drown or kill the flutter wheel. To remedy
this defect, several new pieces of timber were needed, and all hands
were put to work within ten or fifteen rods of the tail race, getting
out the timbers.

Part of the time I was engaged in directing the labors of a gang of
Digger Indians, as I had picked up sufficient of their dialect to make
them understand me clearly. It had been customary to hoist the gates of
the forebay when we quit work in the evening, letting the water through
the race to wash away the loosened sand and gravel, then close them
down in the morning. The Indians were employed to dig and cast out the
cable rock that was not moved by the water.

On January 23, I had turned away from the Indians and was with the
white men. Mr. Marshall came along to look over the work in general,
and went to where the tail race entered the river. There he discovered
a bed of rock that had been exposed by the water the night before, the
portion in view in the bottom of the race being three to six feet wide
and fifteen to twenty feet long. Mr. Marshall called me to him as he
examined the bed of the race, and said: "This is a curious rock; I am
afraid it will give us trouble." Then he probed a little further, and
added: "I believe it contains minerals of some kind, and I believe
there is gold in these hills."

At this statement I inquired, "What makes you think so?" He answered
that he had seen blossom of gold, and upon my asking where, he said it
was the white quartz scattered over the hills; on my inquiring further
as to what quartz was, he told me it was the white, flint-like rock so
plentiful on the hills. I said it was flint rock, but he said no, it
was called quartz in some book he had read, and was an indication of
gold. He sent me to the cabin for a pan to wash the sand and gravel,
and see what we could find. I went to a cabin which had been built near
the millsite by Alexander Stephens, Henry W. Bigler, James Berger,
Azariah Smith, William Johnston and myself, and in which we were doing
our own cooking. I brought the pan and we washed some of the bedrock
that we had scaled up with a pick. As we had no idea of the appearance
of gold in its natural state, our search was unsuccessful.

Mr. Marshall was determined to investigate further, but it was no use
that night. He rose and said: "We will hoist the gates and turn in all
the water that we can tonight, and tomorrow morning we will shut it
off and come down here, and I believe we will find gold or some other
mineral here."



IT is my understanding that when Captain Sutter and Mr. Marshall
were contemplating the erection of the two mills, an apparently
insurmountable obstacle confronted them in the inability to get and
pay for the skilled labor necessary for portions of the work. This
obstacle was removed by the proposition our committee had made to
Captain Sutter at the first interview; and in the two or three days'
time asked in August, 1847, by the captain, a decision was reached to
go ahead. Therefore, if it had not been for the opportune appearance of
the mustered-out members of the Mormon Battalion, the sawmill would not
have been built that winter, nor would the discovery of gold have been
made at that time. But for the action of those Mormons in connection
with the enterprise proposed by Captain Sutter and Mr. Marshall, in
offering the desired class of labor upon the terms they did, the state
of California might have waited indefinitely to have been developed and
to be christened the Golden State, and the entrance to the bay of San
Francisco might never have received the title of the Golden Gate.

Resuming the narrative of my association with Mr. Marshall on the
afternoon of January 23rd, I will state further that each of us went
our way for the night, and did not meet again till next morning. I
thought little of what Marshall had said of finding gold, as he was
looked on as rather a "notional" kind of man; I do not think I even
mentioned his conversation to my associates. At an unusually early hour
in the morning, however, those of us who occupied the cabin heard a
hammering at the mill. "Who is that pounding so early?" was asked, and
one of our party looked out and said it was Marshall shutting the gates
of the forebay down. This recalled to my mind what Mr. Marshall had
said to me the evening before, and I remarked, "Oh, he is going to find
a gold mine this morning."

A smile of derision stole over the faces of the parties present. We ate
our breakfast and went to work. James Berger and myself went to the
whipsaw, and the rest of the men some eight or ten rods away from the
mill. I was close to the mill and sawpit, and was also close to the
tail race, where I could direct the Indians who were there.

This was the 24th day of January, 1848. When we had got partly to work,
Mr. Marshall came, with his old wool hat in his hand. He stopped within
six or eight yards of the sawpit, and exclaimed, "Boys, I have got her
now!" Being the nearest to him, and having more curiosity than the
rest of the men, I jumped from the pit and stepped to him. On looking
into his hat I discovered ten or twelve pieces or small scales of what
proved to be gold. I picked up the largest piece, worth about fifty
cents, and tested it with my teeth; as it did not give, I held it aloft
and exclaimed, "Gold, boys, gold!" At that, all dropped their tools
and gathered around Mr. Marshall. Having made the first proclamation
of the very important fact that the metal was gold, I stepped to the
work bench and put it to the second test with the hammer. As I was
doing this it occurred to me that while en route to California with the
Mormon Battalion, we came to some timber called manzanita. Our guides
and interpreters said the wood was what the Mexicans smelted their gold
and silver ores with. It is a hard wood and makes a very hot fire, and
also burns a long time. Remembering that we had left a very hot bed of
these coals in the fireplace of the cabin, I hurried there and made the
third test by placing the metal upon the point of an old shovel blade,
and then inserted it in among the coals. I blew the coals until I was
blind for the moment, in trying to burn or melt the particles; and
although these were plated almost as thin as a sheet of note paper, the
heat did not change their appearance in the least. I remembered hearing
that gold could not be burned up, so I arose from this third test,
confident that what had been found was gold. Running out to the party
still grouped together, I made the second proclamation, saying, "Gold,

At this juncture all was excitement. We repaired to the lower end of
the tail race, where we found from three to six inches of water flowing
over the bed of rock, in which there were crevices and little pockets,
over which the water rippled in the glare of the sunlight as that shone
over the mountain peaks. James Berger was the first man to espy a scale
of the metal. He stooped to pick it up, and found some difficulty in
getting hold of it, as his fingers would blur the water, but he finally
succeeded. The next man to find a piece was H. W. Bigler; he used his
jack-knife, getting the scale on the point of the blade, then, with his
forefinger over it placed it in his left hand.

As soon as we learned how to look for it, since it glittered under the
water in the rays of the sun, we were all rewarded with a few scales.
Each put his mite into a small phial that was provided by Marshall, and
we made him the custodian. We repeated our visits to the tail race for
three or four mornings, each time collecting some of the precious metal
until we had gathered somewhere between three and four ounces.

The next move was to step and stake off two quarter sections, beginning
at the mill, one running down the river and the other up. Then we
cut and hauled logs and laid the foundation of a cabin on each of
them; one was for Sutter, the other for Marshall. This matter being
finished, Mr. Marshall was prepared to dictate terms to us, for every
tool and all the provisions in that part of the country belonged to
Sutter and Marshall. They had full control, and we were depending on
the completion of the mill for our pay. Marshall said that if we would
stay by him until the mill was completed and well stocked with logs, he
would supply us with provisions and tools, and would grant us the first
right to work on their gold claims. We all assented to his proposition,
and also agreed that we would not disclose the secret of the gold
discovery until we learned more about it and had made good our claims.
Not having the remotest idea of the extent of the gold deposits, we
pushed the mill as rapidly as possible; for as yet we had not received
one dollar's pay for our four months' labor.

Soon there came a rainy day, when it was too wet to work. H. W. Bigler
thought it a good day to hunt ducks, so he put on an old coat, and was
gone all day. When he returned, we said, "Where are your ducks?"

He said, "Wait a while, I will show you; I have got them all right."

Finally he drew an old cotton handkerchief from his pocket; in the
corner of it he had at least half an ounce of gold tied up. For a while
all were excited, and he was asked a great many questions like the
following: "Did you find it on Sutter's claim along the river?" "How
far is it from here?" "All in one place?" "Is there any more?" "How did
you get it, you had no pick or shovel?" "Can you find the place again?"

He replied that he had found it down below Sutter's claim, along the
river where the bedrock cropped out along the bank, and in little rills
that came down the hills to the river, indeed, everywhere that he found
the bedrock cropping out.

"Then you found it in more than one place?"

"Yes, more than a dozen."

It was now proposed that we keep this discovery a secret, as the
discovery in the race had been kept. So the mill work was pushed with
vigor to completion. But in the meantime Marshall had felt it his duty
to inform his partner of the discovery. Accordingly, he wrote a letter
stating the facts, and sent me out to find a strange Indian who would
take it to Captain Sutter, fearing that if he sent it by someone who
was acquainted with the circumstances the secret might leak out. About
this time Wm. Johnston found that he had some urgent business below and
must go there, and did so; he went to the gristmill and along the camps
on that mill race. Then somehow or other the bag came untied and our
old cat and all the kittens ran out, and to the camps they went, until
everybody heard of the gold discovery. But, like all great truths,
people were slow to believe the story.

In a short time, however, Sidney S. S. Willis and Wilford Hudson, whose
curiosity had been aroused, began to feel that they would like a little
venison; and with that for an excuse they took their guns and set out
on foot, having been assured that by following up the river they would
come to the sawmill, which they succeeded in doing the first day. I
think it was only a thirty-five miles journey. I believe they stayed
one day and two nights with us; then, after a thorough examination of
the bedrock, sand and gravel, and the surroundings, they gathered a few
specimens, among which was one nugget worth about five dollars--the
largest by long odds that had been discovered up to that time.

As Willis and Hudson passed back on their way home, they discovered
a small ravine or creek in which there was some of the same kind of
bedrock which they had seen at the mill race, and by picking around
in the sand and gravel they discovered quite a rich prospect. That
was just above what was afterwards called Mormon Island, about twelve
or fifteen miles above the gristmill, and about the same distance
below the sawmill. Then they returned to the mill, told their story,
and showed the specimens to the boys. Some of these went to Sutter's
Fort, to a little grocery store kept by a Mormon named Smith, who came
around Cape Horn to California by the ship Brooklyn. The story of the
find was told, and specimens exhibited to Smith, who wrote to Samuel
Brannan. The latter was publishing a paper in San Francisco at the
time; and from that press the news went forth to the world. Brannan was
a Mormon Elder, and the press was owned by a company of Mormons who had
sailed from New York around Cape Horn, and were presided over by Samuel

From one hundred to one hundred and fifty Mormons flocked to Mormon
Island; then people from every part of the United States followed, and
the search for gold commenced in earnest. With jack, butcher, and table
knives, the search was made in the crevices, after stripping the soil
from the bedrock with pick and shovel. Next, we conceived the idea of
washing the sand and fine gravel in tin pans, but these were scarce
and hard to get hold of. Alexander Stephens dug out a trough, leaving
the bottom round like a log. He would fill that with sand and gravel
that we scraped off the bedrock, and would shake it, having arranged it
so as to to pour or run water on the gravel; finally he commenced to
rock the trough, which led to the idea of a rocker. His process caused
the gold to settle at the bottom; then he arranged the apparatus on an
incline so that the gold would work down and also to the lower end of
the trough. At short intervals he would turn what was collected into a
tub of water, and at night it would be cleaned and weighed on a pair of
wooden scales that Stephens made also, using silver coins for weights,
counting the silver dollar equal to one ounce of gold. This rocker led
to the renowned gold rocker; I am under the impression that Stephens
made the first rocker ever used in California.

The next and last process that we used in gathering gold was to spread
a sheet on the sandy beach of the river, placing some big rocks on the
corners and sides to keep it well stretched. We then would fill in the
rich dirt on the upper edge, and throw on water to wash the dirt down
into the river, leaving the gold on the sheet. Occasionally we took
up the sheet and dipped it into a tub of water, washing the gold off
the sheet into the tub. At night we would clean up our day's work,
averaging from twelve to fifteen dollars each. Our best paying dirt was
carried on our shoulders from Dry Gulch, fifteen to sixty rods to where
we could find water to wash it. We made buckskin pouches or wallets to
carry the gold in; it was not dust, nor yet nuggets, but small scales.

Sutter's capital and enterprise and Marshall's shrewd sagacity have
been given the credit of the great gold discovery in California. The
facts are, that James W. Marshall discovered the first color; in less
than an hour six Mormons found color as well, and within six weeks
Mormons had discovered it in hundreds of places that Mr. Marshall had
never seen, the most notable of which was Mormon Island, to where the
first rush was made, and from where the news was spread to the world.
As to Sutter's enterprise and capital, he furnished the graham flour
and mutton, wheat and peas, black coffee and brown sugar, teams and
tools, while we, the members of the Mormon Battalion, did the hard
labor that discovered the metal. It is also true that we were in
Sutter's employ at that date, and that we did not get paid for our
labor. I worked one hundred days for the firm, and never received a
farthing for it. I heard a number of other men say they never got their
pay. It was our labor that developed the find, and not Marshall's and
Sutter's, and we were never paid for it; when we went for a settlement
we were told by Captain Sutter that he could not settle with us, for
his bookkeeper had gone to the mines, and his books were not posted. He
cursed Marshall and the mines, and declared that he was a ruined man;
that the discovery was his ruin, for it had drawn off his laborers and
left everything to go to rack, and that he was being robbed.

I do not wish it to be understood that I charge Sutter and Marshall
with being dishonorable, for I do not. I think they were honorable men
in a business way. The fact is, they were completely overrun with all
classes of people, and were confused, so that the people took advantage
of them, their business was undermined, and there was a general
collapse of their affairs and of every industry and business. The cry
was, "Gold! Gold! More Gold! Away to the gold fields!" Every other
enterprise was sacrificed in the rush for gold.

With due respect to Captain John A. Sutter and James W. Marshall,
to whom the world has given the credit for the great gold find, I
believe that if they had been taken out and shot to death the day of
the discovery, they would have suffered less, and would have met their
Maker just as pure, if not more honored in this world, than to have
lived and endured what they did. As far as I am concerned, I say peace
to their remains, for on this earth they have been greatly wronged, if
I have read their history correctly. Like a lynching scrape where there
is an outburst of the people, it is very difficult to find those who
are responsible for the crime. Regarding the wrongs did these men, it
seemed as if the whole population of that locality picked on them.

I will add here, that my account of the gold discovery in California
was submitted in 1893 to the following members of the party who were at
the place in January, 1848, and who were the only survivors within my
reach at the time: Orrin Hatch and William S. Muir, Woods Cross, Davis
County; George W. Boyd, and H. D. Merrill, Salt Lake City; and Israel
Evans, Lehi, Utah County, Utah. They united in giving me a certificate
that they knew this account to be a true and correct statement of the
discovery of gold in California, at Sutter's mill race.



IN June, 1848, some thirty-seven members of the Mormon Battalion
rendezvoused at a flat some six or eight miles from Coloma, California,
near where the first gold discovery was made. This assemblage was
preparatory to crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains at or near the
head of the American River; for we had learned that it was next to
impossible to take wagons at this time of the year by what was called
the Truckee route, and as we had become accustomed to pioneer life it
was thought we could find a better route, so it was proposed to open
up one by the way stated. We had been successful in getting a few
hundred dollars each from the mines, and had fitted ourselves out with
wagons and ox teams, seeds and tools; for our protection on the journey
we bought of Captain Sutter two brass Russian cannon, one a four
pounder and the other a six-pounder.

Some of the company, eight or ten, had pitched camp at the site
selected, and were waiting for others who were tardy in getting
their outfit. Early in May, a party consisting of David Browett, Ira
J. Willis, J. C. Sly, Israel Evans, Jacob M. Truman, Daniel Allen,
Henderson Cox, Robert Pixton, and, I think, J. R. Allred, went out
about two or three days ahead, and found the country covered with deep
snow, so that at that time it was impracticable to go forward with the
wagons; the party therefore returned to the main camp, and waited till
the last of June. During this wait, David Browett, Daniel Allen and
Henderson Cox, being anxious to be moving, started a second time to
search out the route, and were surprised at night and all were killed
by Digger Indians. They had been gone some eight or ten days before
the main body got together, and about twenty days before we started.
Alexander Stephens and I, it seems to me, and some two or three others,
did not join the party, as I remember, until June 29.

The day before starting from the gold diggings on our journey was kind
of an off-day, in which the writer had some spare time and wandered off
from camp, with pick and shovel, up into a dry gulch, where he soon
struck a very rich prospect of gold, about a quarter of a mile from
water. This was about 11 o'clock a.m. By sundown he had carried the
rich dirt down in his pantaloons, and washed out forty-nine dollars
and fifty cents in gold; yet kind reader, strange as it may appear,
he, with his partners, hitched up and rolled out the next morning, and
joined the main camp at what we called Pleasant Valley, but now, I
think, known as Dutch Flat. I have never seen that rich spot of earth
since; nor do I regret it, for there always has been a higher object
before me than gold. We had covenanted to move together under certain
conditions, and those conditions existing we were in honor bound to
move the next day. We did move, leaving that rich prospect without ever
sticking a stake in the gulch, but abandoning it to those who might
follow. Some may think we were blind to our own interests; but after
more than forty years we look back without regrets, although we did see
fortunes in the land, and had many inducements to stay. People said,
"Here is gold on the bedrock, gold on the hills, gold in the rills,
gold everywhere, gold to spend, gold to lend, gold for all that will
delve, and soon you can make an independent fortune." We could realize
all that. Still duty called, our honor was at stake, we had covenanted
with each other, there was a principle involved; for with us it was God
and His kingdom first. We had friends and relatives in the wilderness,
yea, in an untried, desert land, and who knew their condition? We did
not. So it was duty before pleasure, before wealth, and with this
prompting we rolled out and joined our comrades in Pleasant Valley.

At our camp in Pleasant Valley we organized with Jonathan Holmes as
president, and with captains of tens. Then there were chosen eight or
nine vaqueros or herdsmen, to take charge of all the loose stock from 4
a.m. till 8 p.m.; but in the main the herdsmen were the chief pioneers
for the camp. I remember only a few of them: W. Sidney, S. S. Willis,
Israel Evans, Jacob M. Truman, Wesley Adair and James S. Brown.

The date of our start from Pleasant Valley I cannot now recall, further
than that it was between the 25th of June and the 1st of July. We
made slow progress, for the road was very rough. About six of us rode
ahead, and looked out and marked the route. We would go ahead half the
day, and then return to meet the train, often finding them camped, the
men working the road, cutting the timber, rolling rock, and digging
dugways, or mending wagons. Sometimes we had to lay over a day or two
to make the road passable.

Thus we pushed forward on our journey till we came to a place we called
Tragedy Springs, for near a beautiful spring at this place we found the
remains of the three brethren who had preceded us, they having been
murdered by Indians, and buried in a shallow grave. We first found
bloody arrows, then stones with blood on them, then the nude bodies,
partly uncovered; these were recognized by Daniel Allen's purse of gold
near by. Our feelings cannot be described through the medium of the
pen, therefore I must leave these to the reader's imagination. We built
a wall of rough rock around the grave, then covered it with flat stones
to protect the bodies from wild beasts. This was the best we could do,
for the bodies were so decomposed that we could not do more. The names
of the deceased and manner of death, with proper dates, were cut in a
large tree that stood near by.

The night we came to Tragedy Springs was very dark, and our camp
being in a dense forest of large trees, the darkness was intensified.
Guards were at their posts around stock and camp, when suddenly, from
some cause we never knew, the stock stampeded. This raised a great
excitement, and before it subsided one of our cannon was discharged;
as it belched forth its stream of fire, and the sound of the explosion
echoed in forest and hills, the animals were stampeded still worse,
only a few horses that had been securely tied remaining. We were
compelled to lay by for two days to get things together, but we finally
did so, recovering all our stock.

We made another start, going to a place we called Leek Springs, because
of there being so many leeks growing wild. We had to stop over and mark
our way among rocky ridges. Thence we moved on, musket in one hand, or
in a handy place to the teamster, with his goad or whip in the other
hand, the train moving in close order and constantly on the alert for
an attack by man or beast.

We ascended a very high spur of the Sierra Nevada range, on the south
side. When we reached the summit the wind blew as if it were the middle
of November. As we crossed over we came to a large snowdrift; on the
north side of the mountain our wagons rolled over the snow as if
on marble pavement, but when we came to where the sun had shone in
the latter part of the day, our wagons went down to the hub, and four
were capsized and some of them badly broken. The others succeeded in
reaching the bottom in safety. It took us till after dark to pick up
the pieces and get them together to be ready to start the next morning.

We all gathered around the campfire and discussed the subject of
standing guard, when the writer remarked that there was no need of
guards--that he would agree to take care of all the Indians that would
come around that night, for it was so cold and disagreeable that he
supposed no human being would come there from choice. Just then someone
inquired what an object on a rock was. Some said it was an owl, others
that it was an Indian. Two or three of us took our guns and sallied
forth to settle the dispute finding to our surprise two Indians with
feathered headdresses on, and with long bows, and quivers full of
arrows. They were within easy bowshot of us. The party had the laugh on
the writer for once.

We took the Indians prisoners, disarmed them, and prepared a place
for them to sleep, after giving them their supper. The writer was one
called on to guard them, and he promptly complied. The Indians made
good company, though they were very nervous, and we had to threaten
them frequently to keep them from making a break for liberty. At
midnight the guards were changed, and at dawn we made ready to descend
to the camp below, arriving there just as the Indians moved off; we had
released our prisoners. The Indians soon began to come in from every
quarter, all armed. We moved in close order, every man well armed.
The savages numbered three to our one; they flanked us and we could
see them on every hand, in threatening attitude. In this situation
we had to chop and roll logs out of the way, move rock, and make
dugways, lifting at and holding wagons to keep them from turning over.
Consequently, our progress was slow, and the journey very hazardous.
Finally, when we had worked our way carefully along the difficult
route, passing over the summit of the great Sierras, which divide
the waters of the great deserts from those which flow to the Pacific
Ocean, the threatening red men slunk out of sight, and we found a rough
camping place, where we lay all night upon our arms, but nothing came
to alarm us.

We continued down the canyon and came to a more open country, camping
by a river bend where there was good feed, water, and fuel. We had
begun to feel more safe from the red men, yet that night they stole
in past our guards and took some of our saddle horses which were tied
within four or five rods of our wagons. The Indians escaped, and were
detected only by our guards hearing them cross the river; this was
about 4 a.m. Early in the morning we learned more definitely our loss,
and eight or ten of us gave pursuit, following the trail across a sandy
country and over the foothills, ultimately succeeding in the recovery
of all our horses but one, and for that we captured an Indian pony that
had the distemper, as we discovered after it had been turned into our
herd. That was one of the hardest day's rides that the writer remembers
in all his experiences, for we put our horses through all they could
live for. Every moment we were liable to ambush, for the Indians
divided into three parties and we did the same. One of our party
supposed he had killed an Indian, or certainly wounded him, just as he
entered into the thick brush.

It was late the next day when we resumed our journey, and that night
we camped in Carson Valley, where we looked on an extensive plain or
desert. Being unable to discern any evidences of water, we turned to
the north, just under the base of the mountains, traveling over a very
hard route, until we came to the Truckee River, where we entered the
old emigrant road. We followed that road till we came to the sink of
the Humboldt, then called St. Mary's River. The distance was said to be
forty-five miles; be that as it may, we were twenty-four hours covering
it, and I do not think we had any rest or sleep during the whole trip.

We passed the wonderful Hot or Steamboat Springs. I remember seeing
a dog run up to one of them as if to lap the water, and as he did so
his feet slipped into the edge of the pool. He was so surprised at the
heat that he gave one yelp of pain and jumped into the middle of the
spring, stretched out his legs, and never gave another kick. In a very
short time the hair was all scalded off him. The incident reminded me
of the story of a Dutchman who, when he came to a hot spring, ordered
his teamster to drive on, as hell could not be more than a mile away.
We did not feel to blame the Dutchman, if the springs were like this;
for, from the surroundings, hades did not appear to be far off, and we
passed on without any desire to linger about the dreadful place. It was
about 4 a.m. when, as we approached the Humboldt River, our horses and
cattle hoisted their heads, began to sniff, and broke into a trot; from
that they started into a run, and we had enough to do to keep up with
them till they reached the water.

We had a short rest, and resumed our journey, for there was no food
for our stock, and the water was brackish, so we traveled eight or ten
miles and camped for the night. As the grazing was still short, we made
a very early start, and were soon joined by two Indians, who remained
with us all day and were very friendly. When we camped they stopped
with us, and as we had been told the place was a dangerous one for
Indians, the presence of these two caused a suspicion that they were
spies, and probably would signal their fellows when to attack the train.

We had been in camp only a short time when a white horse was led in.
The animal had a slight wound on his wethers and a mark of blood some
six inches down on his shoulder. This wound had been caused by the
horse rolling on some burned willow stumps, one of the men having seen
him roll; and there were on the animal the black marks from the charred
wood. Yet some of the camp insisted that the wounds were from Indian
arrow's. At this time some one came up from the river and caused a
flame of excitement by saying he had seen an Indian skulking in the
brush, although he admitted that it might have been a bird or a wild
animal, for, while he saw something move, he was not in a position to
say just what it was. The discussion now waxed hot, and one man leveled
his gun at one of the Indians, declaring he would shoot him. The writer
was standing near by and caught the gun to prevent such an act, and was
in turn threatened with being shot, when the trouble was stopped by
others interfering.

That night, when the camp was called together as usual, for prayers
and consultation, and prayers had been said, the same man who had
threatened to shoot the Indian moved that we lay by the next day, hunt
down all the Indians we could find, and by killing rid the country of
the "d--d black rascals." This startling proposition seemed to stun
the senses of the men for a moment, for no such spirit had invaded the
camp before, our motto being peace on earth, good will to man. The
proposition was so repugnant to the writer's feelings that he made his
maiden speech in strongly opposing the motion, declaring that if such
a cruel step were taken he would be a swift witness against all who
engaged in the wicked and savage action; he also asserted that he would
inform on them at the earliest opportunity, for as yet the Indians in
that vicinity had done us no harm, and it was as much murder to kill
one of them as to kill a white man. Others sided with the writer and
the matter was dropped.

We passed on up the river until we came to near the narrows or canyon.
There some of our stock was wounded by Indian arrows. I do not recall
just how many were injured or died from their wounds. The Indians who
did the damage kept out of our sight.

I must mention Elder Addison Pratt, who joined us at Sutter's Fort, as
he was returning from a five years' mission to the Society Islands, in
the South Pacific Ocean. He was a great fisherman, and it was along
this part of the route that he used to catch the little speckled trout
in such numbers as to attract both our admiration and our gratitude.
He would go where no one else would ever think of finding fish, and
would meet with wonderful success. In fact, some of the party were so
astonished at his good luck that they declared he could catch fish in a
cow track. He was a good, jolly soul, and made the best of everything.

Our train journeyed on in peace till we came to Goose Creek, where the
writer traded a mare to an Indian, for a mule. The red man was given
several articles for the difference. He sauntered around for a little
while, then mounted the mule, and away he went, taking the articles
with him. The writer pursued alone for four or five miles, and first
thing he knew was too near the Indian camp to turn back, so he rushed
in among them, dismounted, changed the mare for the mule, and rode off.
The Indians looked surprised and frightened, and made no resistance. I
never realized the hazard I had taken till the danger was over; then I
was glad to rejoin my fellow-travelers.

We crossed Goose Creek Mountains and again struck out into the
trackless desert, pioneering our own way, rolling the rocks and cutting
the road. We reached the Malad, a very difficult stream to cross, but
we succeeded in getting over without serious damage. From there our
route lay to the Bear River, which we crossed in safety by blocking up
our wagon boxes. I think the crossing was made just above where Bear
River City is now located. From there we traveled southward under the
base of the mountains to where we found two springs, one of hot water
and the other of very cold water, within a very few feet of each other;
they flowed in the same gulch or ravine. Along this route we had naught
but an Indian trail to guide us. When we reached Box Elder we thought
it the finest place we had seen since leaving Carson Valley.

While in California we had learned that the Latter-day Saints had
settled near the south end of the Great Salt Lake; and as we had
been in sight, from the mountains, of the north end of the lake for
some days, we began to feel that we were nearing a place of rest. We
journeyed on till we came to the Ogden and Weber rivers, where we found
that Captain James Brown, of company C of the Mormon Battalion, and a
few of the Saints had settled; the country looked very wild. We still
pursued our way southward, till we reached the present site of Salt
Lake City, entering the Sixth Ward Square--now Pioneer Square--where
the Saints had built houses and a stockade. I think the date of our
arrival at this place was the 28th of September, 1848.

We were heartily welcomed, by relatives and friends, after our long and
tedious march of near four thousand miles, and our more than two years'
absence from those we loved and who loved us. Our meeting and greeting
were far more joyous and precious than the glittering gold we had left
behind. Neither our friends nor ourselves had any regrets for our
having left the gold fields when we remembered our marching away, over
two years before, to the tune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me," for we
were so very glad to find her again, no matter if it were in a desert.
We all rejoiced, and gave thanks to God for His protecting care and our
safe return to the bosom of friends.



NOTWITHSTANDING the fact of the aspect in the Great Salt Lake Valley
being gloomy, most of the people were contented with their lot,
although the experiences of 1847 and 1848 had been anything but
encouraging. Some of the inhabitants were living in log cabins, others
in dugouts, and still others in wagons, while some who did not have
the latter had built brush sheds; almost everybody was living on short
rations, crickets and grasshoppers having destroyed most of the crops.
The whole face of the country was brown and dry, except small streaks
along the water courses. There was no provender for our stock, and we
could only turn them out upon the range, and trust them and ourselves
to a kind Providence. Timber for fuel was in the mountains, and higher
up in these there was timber for fencing and building purposes. In
order to get either, we had to make roads at great expense, building
bridges and cutting dugways, sometimes going in armed companies to
protect ourselves from the threatening Indian tribes. A long brush
bowery was built in the town; we met there for religious services, and
for all other purposes that made it necessary for the people to be
called together.

October 6, 1848, a general conference of the Church was held, and the
people as a rule felt blessed, although there were a few who were very
much discouraged as the rations grew short and the cold weather pinched
more closely.

Some time in October, news reached us that a small detachment of the
Mormon Battalion coming from California was starving to death on the
western deserts. Their old comrades in arms soon gathered supplies and
fitted up a team, and six or seven of us went out to give assistance.
We met the suffering company at the point of the West Mountains, about
two days earlier than we had expected. The men were suffering, but not
quite so badly as we had been led to believe from the word we had got.
It was snowing when we met them, and continued to do so the greater
part of the night and of the next day, so that we suffered much from
cold before we reached shelter, for everything was soaked through. The
company brought considerable gold, which was exhibited to many of the

Some of our comrades were not so fortunate as to find their families in
the Great Salt Lake Valley, so they pushed on to where these had been
left, in Iowa or Nebraska. Those men bore the news of the great gold
discovery in California, and, as evidence of the truth of their story,
showed the precious metal they had secured. Thus the Mormon Battalion
not only was at the discovery of gold in California and took part
therein, but bore the news thereof eastward, until it spread to the
world, causing great excitement.

The last detachment of the battalion for the season having arrived in
the valley, a feast was prepared, and a re-union of the soldiers and
their friends was called. It was made as grand an affair as could be
under the circumstances, Presidents Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball
leading out with liberal hands. We were welcomed in royal style;
interesting speeches were made by the First Presidency of the Church,
and also by the officers and soldiers of the battalion.

From that time things moved quietly, people making roads and getting
out timber for various purposes, herding stock, fencing, and so on.
At length the Indians began to run off and kill the stock. A meeting
was called and one hundred men selected to enroll themselves as minute
men, the writer being one of the company. We were required each to
keep a horse on hand, and to be ready at a minute's warning to march
to any point of attack. We had to fit out ourselves, as there was no
quartermaster's department on which officers could issue requisitions
and have them honored. We had to provide our own provisions, and
everything necessary for a campaign, at our own expense. Most of the
young men having horses of their own, and many of them having become
expert horsemen, a full quota was furnished for the company. We had
turned over to the Church authorities, for the public defense, our
two brass Russian cannon. The minute men met for drill at regularly
appointed times.

The winter of 1848-9 was quite cold. Many people had their feet badly
frozen. For one, the writer suffered so severely from this cause that
he lost every nail from the toes of both feet. In February and March
there began to be some uneasiness over the prospects, and as the days
grew warmer the gold fever attacked many so that they prepared to go
to California. Some said they would go only to have a place for the
rest of us; for they thought Brigham Young too smart a man to try to
establish a civilized colony in such a "God-forsaken country," as they
called the valley. They further said that California was the natural
country for the Saints; some had brought choice fruit pips and seed,
but said they would not waste them by planting in a country like the
Great Salt Lake Valley; others stated that they would not build a
house in the valley, but would remain in their wagons, for certainly
our leaders knew better than to attempt to make a stand in such a dry,
worthless locality, and would be going on to California, Oregon or
Vancouver's Island; still others said they would wait awhile before
planting choice fruits, as it would not be long before they would
return to Jackson County, Missouri.

This discouraging talk was not alone by persons who had no experience
in farming and manufacturing, but by men who had made a success at
their various avocations where they had been permitted to work in
peace, before coming west. Good farmers said: "Why the wheat we grew
here last year was so short that we had to pull it; the heads were
not more than two inches long. Frost falls here every month in the
year--enough to cut down all tender vegetation. More, James Bridger
and Gudger, who have been in this country ten years or more, say that
corn cannot be raised anywhere in these mountains. In fact, Bridger has
told President Young that he will give a thousand dollars for the first
bushel of corn raised in the open air here, for he says it cannot be

It was at this time of gloom that President Young stood before the
whole people, and said, in substance, that some people had misgivings,
and some were murmuring, and had not faith to go to work and make their
families comfortable; they had got the gold fever and were going to
California. Said he: "Some have asked me about going. I have told them
that God has appointed this place for the gathering of His Saints,
and you will do better right here than you will by going to the gold
mines. Some have thought they would go there and get fitted out and
come back, but I told them to stop here and get fitted out. Those who
stop here and are faithful to God and His people will make more money
and get richer than you that run after the god of this world; and I
promise you in the name of the Lord that many of you that go, thinking
you will get rich and come back, will wish you had never gone away from
here, and will long to come back but will not be able to do so. Some
of you will come back, but your friends who remain here will have to
help you; and the rest of you who are spared to return will not make
as much money as your brethren do who stay here and help build up the
Church and kingdom of God; they will prosper and be able to buy you
twice over. Here is the place God has appointed for His people. We have
been kicked out of the frying-pan into the fire, out of the fire into
the middle of the floor, and here we are and here we will stay. God has
shown me that this is the spot to locate His people, and here is where
they will prosper; He will temper the elements for the good of His
Saints; He will rebuke the frost and the sterility of the soil, and the
land shall become fruitful. Brethren, go to, now, and plant out your
fruit seeds." Stretching his arms to the east and to the west, with his
hands spread out, he said: "For in these elements are not only all the
cereals common to this latitude, but the apple, peach and plum; yea,
and the more delicate fruits, the strawberry and raspberry; and we will
raise the grape here and manufacture wine; and as the Saints gather
here and get strong enough to possess the land, God will temper the
climate, and we shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God
in this place. We will extend our settlements to the east and west, to
the north and to the south, and we will build towns and cities by the
hundreds, and thousands of the Saints will gather in from the nations
of the earth. This will become the great highway of the nations. Kings
and emperors and the noble and wise of the earth will visit us here,
while the wicked and ungodly will envy us our comfortable homes and
possessions. Take courage, brethren. I can stand in my door and can see
where there is untold millions of the rich treasures of the earth--gold
and silver. But the time has not come for the Saints to dig gold. It is
our duty first to develop the agricultural resources of this country,
for there is no country on the earth that is more productive than this.
We have the finest climate, the best water, and the purest air that can
be found on the earth; there is no healthier climate anywhere. As for
gold and silver, and the rich minerals of the earth, there is no other
country that equals this; but let them alone; let others seek them,
and we will cultivate the soil; for if the mines are opened first, we
are a thousand miles from any base of supplies, and the people would
rush in here in such great numbers that they would breed a famine;
and gold would not do us or them any good if there were no provisions
in the land. People would starve to death with barrels of gold; they
would be willing to give a barrel of gold for a barrel of flour rather
than starve to death. Then, brethren, plow your land and sow wheat,
plant your potatoes; let the mines alone until the time comes for you
to hunt gold, though I do not think this people ever will become a
mining people. It is our duty to preach the Gospel, gather Israel, pay
our tithing, and build temples. The worst fear that I have about this
people is that they will get rich in this country, forget God and His
people, wax fat, and kick themselves out of the Church and go to hell.
This people will stand mobbing, robbing, poverty, and all manner of
persecution, and be true. But my greater fear for them is that they
cannot stand wealth; and yet they have to be tried with riches, for
they will become the richest people on this earth."

My dear reader, the writer stood on the Sixth Ward Square, Salt Lake
City, in the year 1849, fifty-one years ago, and heard the foregoing
spoken by President Brigham Young. Now it is 1900. and I bear my
testimony to the literal fulfillment of most of those sayings, and that
portion which has not yet come to pass I most assuredly believe will do
so. I entreat the reader of this to pause and reflect. Was there divine
inspiration in this matter, or not?

About the same time, Parley P. Pratt, one of the Twelve Apostles, told
the people to save the hides of their cattle, tan them, and make boots
and shoes for their families. He said that in the mountains there was
spruce, pine bark, and shumac, with tanning properties; advised that
they be gathered, and the beef hides tanned; and predicted that the
time would come when leather would be tanned here, and boots and shoes
would be manufactured and exported. It was also stated that we would
raise sheep here, and would manufacture woollen fabrics and export them.

As the writer walked away from meeting that day, in company with some
old and tried men, who had been mobbed and robbed, and driven from
their homes, and whom he looked upon almost as pillars of the Church,
one of them said he had passed through such and such trials in the
past, but that that day, 1849, was the darkest he ever had seen in the
Church. The thought of trying to settle this barren land, he said, was
one of the greatest trials he had met. There were some three of the
party particularly whom the writer thought were staunch men; one of
these asked another what he thought of the preaching that day, and got
the reply that it would do "to preach to d--d fools, but not to men of
sense"--that it was insulting to a man's better senses, it was absurd
to think that it was possible to manufacture anything for export from
a country like this, where we were more likely to starve to death than
to do anything else. Now, after half a century has passed away, the
writer refers to the manufacturing and mercantile establishments in
these mountain valleys to establish which were the divinely inspired
utterances of that day.

On one occasion in 1849, President Heber C. Kimball, when preaching to
the people, exhorted them to be faithful as Saints, to cultivate the
earth, and let others dig the gold. He said it was not for the Saints
to dig it, but the time would come when they would learn to use it,
and not abuse it, or the power that it gives; they would possess it by
millions, and the time would come when people would be willing to give
a bushel of gold for a bushel of wheat, when judgments and calamities
would be poured out on the nations of the earth. He declared that
people would come here by thousands, yea, tens of thousands would yet
flee to Zion for safety; they would come with their burdens on their
backs, having nothing to eat, and the people here would have to feed
them; others would bring their gold and silver, and envy the people
here their peace and comfort, for God would temper the climate so
that the Saints would be able to raise everything they needed. Elder
Kimball further said: "Brethren, build good, large granaries, fill
them with wheat, and keep it against the time when it will be needed.
Some people think we have passed the day of trial, but let me tell you
that you need not fear that, for if you are faithful you shall have
all the trials you can bear, and if you are not faithful you will have
more, and will apostatize and go to hell. Some people have come from
the eastern states and the old country and said: "Brother Kimball, O
that we could have been with you in Kirtland, in Jackson county, and
in Nauvoo, and shared the trials of the Saints with you!" Brethren,
hold on a little while, and you shall have all the trials you will
be able to stand; for God has said that He will have a tried people,
so you may prepare yourselves; for before the roof is on the temple
that we will build here, the devils will begin to howl, and before
the capstone is laid you will begin to have your trials. Your leaders
will be hunted as wild beasts; we shall not be with you, and men will
be left to themselves for awhile. Then is the time that you should be
filled with light, that you may be able to stand through the days of
trial. Now, you can leave your bench-tools on the workbench, and your
plows and farming tools in the field; and can lie down and go to sleep
without locking or bolting your doors; but the time will come when,
if you do this, your tools will be stolen from you. These mountains
will be filled with robbers, highwaymen, and all kinds of thieves and
murderers, for the spirit of the old Gadianton robbers lurks here in
the mountains, and will take possession of men, and you will have to
watch as well as pray, to keep thieves away. Therefore, brethren,
begin now to take better care of your tools; attach locks and bolts
to your doors, and do not wait until the horse is stolen before you
lock the door." Elder Kimball referred to the fact that the young men
were becoming restless and did not know what to do; they ran hither
and thither to the mines, and became rude and uncultivated. Said he:
"Let me tell you, boys, what to do. Marry the girls and build homes for
yourselves. Do not leave the young ladies to take up with strangers
who will marry them and then desert them. If you do not marry them,
I counsel the middle-aged and old men to marry the girls and treat
them well, and let them have the opportunity to obey the first command
of God to man, to multiply and replenish the earth. Brethren, take
to yourselves more wives; for if you do not, the time will come when
you will not be permitted to do so. Seek wisdom by faith and prayer;
study and read all good books; study the arts and sciences; build good
schoolhouses, and educate your children, that they may be able to
perform the great work that will come upon them."

Some of the most practical and best informed men in the community
were called to deliver free lectures on farming, stockraising, etc.,
for many of the people had come from manufacturing centers and had
no experience in agricultural life, consequently these people needed
instruction, and it was given in every industrial pursuit that was
practicable at the time, and that by experienced men. Thus the people
were incited in their labors to subdue this wild and then desert
land--for it was barren and waste in the extreme.

President Brigham Young also instructed the people to treat the Indians
kindly, and divide food with them, "for," said he, "it is cheaper to
feed than to fight them. Teach them that we are their friends. Indeed,
treat every man civilly and kindly; treat every man as a gentleman
until you prove him to be a rascal--then let him alone."

The foregoing is the tenor of the teaching and preaching to the people
in 1848 and 1849, in what is now the State of Utah.



WHEN seed time came that year, provisions were very scarce. People dug
segos and thistle roots, and gathered cow cabbage, as we called a plant
that was found in the canyons. We ate these as greens, cooked the hides
of beef cattle--in fact, gathered everything eatable, and worked hard
and put in our crops. These started out with fair prospects for harvest
until the grain was from one to six inches high. Then there came down
from the mountains myriads of black crickets, their bodies nearly as
large as a man's thumb. They entered upon wheat and corn fields, and
swept or ate every green thing before them. Field after field was
cleared of vegetation. Whole families with their chickens moved out to
their farms and made war upon the crickets. Men, women and children
fought from morning till night, and still the enemy advanced from field
to field. Men almost despaired, women wept, and to all human appearance
our cause was lost. The crickets ate the crops so close into the ground
that they could not start again. The people held fast meetings and
prayed for protection. I am not positive that there were any special
meetings for that purpose, but it was customary to fast and pray the
first Thursday in each month.

Almost everybody was in despair, and the enemy did not seem to be
diminished in numbers. With their war cry, or ce-ce, the crickets
advanced, and, seeming to call up their reserve forces, with a bold
front kept up their march. Then there came from the west and northwest
what seemed to me might be justly called the clouds of heaven, or
perhaps more properly the clouds of salvation. These were white sea
gulls, which flew so close together and were so numerous as to form
a cloud wherever they went. They covered almost the whole farming
district north and southeast of the city--the main farming district
in Salt Lake Valley at that time; they visited Davis County and other
places as well; and when they lit down the fields looked as though
covered with snow. The gulls came at sunrise and returned to the west
at sundown, after having gorged and disgorged themselves the entire
day, being tame as chickens. They kept up the work of deliverance day
after day, as the crickets continued to come down from the mountains.
I believe that was the first time this kind of birds had been seen by
any of the settlers. When they had completed their work of mercy they
went away, leaving a grateful people who returned thanks to the Giver
of every good gift. The Saints in the valley then were united and their
meetings were well attended.

One Sunday, Brother Jedediah M. Grant came down from the stand, took
the writer by the arm, and asked him to take a walk. The request was
granted readily, and I was led to Brother Lorenzo Young's house on City
Creek, where we found the First Presidency, some members of the Twelve
Apostles, and some of the first council of the Seventies. There the
writer was ordained to the Priesthood of a Seventy, and his name was
enrolled in the third quorum. Shortly after that he was invited with
others to attend a council meeting of the First Presidency and Twelve
Apostles, in President Kimball's schoolhouse. When we got in and were
seated, President Young said, "Brethren, if any of you have anything to
say, say on." There being no response, the president rose to his feet
and said, "I move that Elders Addison Pratt, Hyrum Blackwell and James
S. Brown take a mission to the Society Islands, in the South Pacific
Ocean." President H. C. Kimball said, "I second the motion." The
question was put and unanimously sustained, and the president turned to
me and asked, "Brother James, will you go?" The answer was, "I am an
illiterate youth, cannot read or write, and I do not know what good I
can do; but if it is the will of the Lord that I should go, and you say
so, I will do the best that I can." The president then took a seat near
me, placing his right hand on my left knee, and said, "It is the will
of the Lord that you go, and I say go; I am not afraid to risk you. And
I promise you in the name of the Lord God of Israel that if you go you
will be blessed, and do good, and be an honor to yourself and to the
Church and kingdom of God. Although men will seek your life, you shall
be spared and return to the bosom of the Church in safety."

This council was on Sunday evening, some time in September, 1849, and
we were to start no later than the 10th of October; indeed, we were
instructed to get ready as soon as possible, so that we could join a
company of emigrants which was organizing to go through to California
by the southern route, as it was too late to go by the northern route.

As Elder Addison Pratt and I had agreed to go sowing wheat together on
Monday morning, I thought I could speak to him without any notice being
taken of it. I said to him, in a low tone of voice, that I guessed we
would not sow much wheat next day. President H. C. Kimball jumped from
his seat as quick as a flash, and pointing his finger directly at me,
said, "What is that, Brother Jimmie?" When I told him what I had said,
he continued, "Jimmie, it is not for you to sow wheat or to reap it,
but your calling is to sow the good seed of the Gospel, and gather
Israel from this time henceforth. Mind that, now; let others sow the
wheat." From that time I felt a weight of responsibility that I had
never thought of before.

We then went to preparing for our journey, Apostle C. C. Rich had been
called to go through to California, so he and Brother Pratt and I
fitted up a team, I having a good wagon and one yoke of oxen; they each
furnished a yoke of oxen. In a few days we were ready for the start. We
had a rodometer attached to our wagon, to measure the distance.

In the meantime, the emigrants called a meeting before taking their
departure. They had employed Captain Jefferson Hunt of company A,
Mormon Battalion fame, to be their guide, as he had come through that
route with pack animals. He was invited to tell them what they might
expect. He described the route to them with the roughest side out, lest
they might say that he had misled them by making things more favorable
than they really were. In concluding his remarks he said: "From Salt
Springs, we cross to a sandy desert, distance seventy-five miles to
Bitter Springs, the water so bitter the devil would not drink it; and
from thence away hellwards, to California or some other place. Now,
gentlemen, if you will stick together and follow me, I will lead you
through to California all right; but you will have to make your own
road, for there is none save the old Spanish trail from Santa Fe to
California, by the Cajon Pass through the Sierra Nevada Mountains."

The emigrant company consisted of about five hundred souls, and one
hundred wagons and teams, the latter in poor condition. Feeling in high
spirits, the company moved out between the 1st and 8th of October. C.
C. Rich, Francis Pomeroy and I remained to follow up on horseback, in
three or four days. Pratt and Blackwell, taking our team, started with
the main body. They got to the Cottonwoods, when one of my oxen became
so lame that they could not proceed any farther. Blackwell returned to
inform me of the situation, and I went down and traded with John Brown,
late Bishop of Pleasant Grove, for another ox, mine having been pricked
in shoeing. Then they overtook the main company, and all proceeded

On the 8th we followed. I started out alone, to meet with the others
at Cottonwood. As I passed the home of Dr. Willard Richards, counselor
to President Brigham Young, Dr. Richards came out and met me; he took
me by the right knee with his right hand, as I sat on my horse, and
said, "Starting out on your mission, I suppose?" I replied, "Yes, sir."
"Well, Brother James, I am glad, and sorry; glad to have you go and
preach the Gospel, and sorry to part with good young men that we need
in opening up a new country." At that he gave my knee an extra grip.
Stretching his left hand out to the southwest, his chin quivering and
his eyes filling with tears, he said, "Brother James, when you are
upon yonder distant islands, called to preside over a branch of the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, men will seek your life,
and to all human appearance, there will be no possible escape; then
look unto God, and His angels shall draw near unto you, and you shall
be delivered, to return home to this people. Do not stop to write to
Brother Pratt, your president, to Brother Brigham, or to me, for you
will require the immediate protection of God. Then put your trust
in Him, and He will deliver you; for I promise you in the name of
Israel's God that you shall be delivered from your enemy and return
to this people. Goodbye, and God bless you." Need I tell the reader
that my mind was greatly impressed by those prophetic words, their
inspired character being established so vividly in my later experience?
Prophetic I knew them to be, and impressive they were indeed; and the
impression has been deep and lasting.

I then went on to Brother Jacob M. Truman's, on Big Cottonwood Creek,
and stayed with him that night. Next morning I passed on to Brother
William Bills', where I met with Brothers C. C. Rich and F. Pomeroy,
and we proceeded on to Provo by the Indian trail, having been joined by
Alexander Williams, with whom we stayed.

At Provo we learned that the citizens and Indians had had some trouble,
and there was considerable excitement, as there were but few settlers
at that place and the Indians were quite numerous. The latter were
singing war songs and working up a spirit of war preliminary to making
an attack that night or next morning, as was supposed. The people
were preparing to receive them as best they could. Guards were posted
around the camp, and men put on picket duty, so that any enemy might be
discovered readily.

The Indians made no move until after daylight; but just before sunrise
they started from their camps in force, to attack us. We advanced to
meet them, so as to prevent their assailing us in the small fort,
where the women and children were. The savages marched up as if to
give us open battle. We formed across the road, and each man took his
post ready for action. I always have believed that if it had not been
for the presence of Apostle C. C. Rich, and his cool, conciliatory
action, there would have been bloodshed, for there were some very
hot-headed white men, who would have preferred war to peace. Through
Brother Rich's influence, the cause of the trouble was looked into, a
conciliation effected, and war averted, so that after breakfast we of
the missionary party proceeded on to what was called Hobble Creek--now
the city of Springville, with a population of over two thousand souls.
I remember that we thought the place would be capable of sustaining
eight or ten families, or a dairy, believing there was not enough water
for more.

From Hobble Creek we passed on from one small stream to another,
expressing our opinion as to the capacity of the water supply; and in
no instance did we suppose that there was water sufficient for more
than fifteen families, judging from what we could see then. Again,
the barrenness of the country was such that it did not seem that more
than seventy-five or a hundred head of cattle could find feed within
reach of water. Now thousands of head of horned stock and horses are
sustained at the same places.

We kept on our way until we overtook the wagon train on Sevier River.
We came up with the emigrants just as they were ready to move on, but
did not find them so full of glee as they were on the start from the
city. Still, we rolled on very peaceably until we came to Beaver River,
where the country began to look more forbidding. Then the ardor of the
emigrants began to weaken.

At this place the company was joined by a man named Smith with a pack
train of about seventeen men; also James Flake, with thirty Latter-day
Saints; besides, there were William Farrer, John Dixon. H. W. Bigler,
George Q. Cannon, and others, whose names I do not now recall. Smith
felt confident that he could find Walker's Pass, in the Sierra Nevada
Mountains. This supposed pass had been spoken of often, but men had
been disappointed as often in finding it, or rather in not finding
it. Smith's story excited our whole camp so that there was a general
desire to try the new route, and go down through the canyon and out on
to the sandy desert. The whole company except a very few favored the
idea of leaving the route they had hired a guide for, and they urged
Captain Hunt to strike out and look for water. He said, "Gentlemen, I
agreed to pilot you through to California on the Old Spanish Route by
the Cajon Pass. I am ready to do so, and am not under any obligations
to lead you in any other way; and if you insist on my doing so you must
be responsible, for I will not be responsible for anything. On this
condition, if you insist on changing your route, I will do the best I
can to find water, but I do not have any reason to hope for success
when I leave the trail."

The company hurrahed for the Walker Pass, and Captain Hunt struck out a
day ahead while the company shod and doctored their lame and sick stock
for one day. Then we moved out ten miles on to the plain southwest of
where Minersville, Utah, now stands, and camped.

Sometime in the night Captain Hunt came into camp, so near choked from
the lack of water that his tongue was swollen till it protruded from
his mouth; his eyes were so sunken in his head that he could scarcely
be recognized. His horse, too, for the need of water, was blind, and
staggered as he was urged on. Their stay had been thirty-six hours,
on the sands, without water. About 2 o'clock next morning our stock
stampeded from the guards and ran back to water. Two-thirds of the men
went in pursuit, and animals and men did not return to camp till 2
o'clock in the afternoon.

By this time confusion and discontent abounded in camp. A committee was
appointed to inquire into the condition of every team, and to ascertain
the food supply, with the avowed intention of sending all back who
failed to have what were considered the requisites for the journey. I
think that one-third of the company, our wagon included, were found
wanting when weighed in that committee's balances. But when we were
ordered to return, those who gave the command found that they were
without authority and no one would heed them. So the discontent was
patched up for a time, and we proceeded on to Little Salt Lake Valley,
where we struck the old Spanish trail again. Then the company began to
split up, some going on after night, and others stopping.

Brother C. C. Rich told me that it had been shown to him that there was
going to be trouble, and he felt led to believe that if we would go
with the pack train he could at least lead the brethren there back on
to the trail and save them. This was in the night, as we slept together
in the wagon. He awoke and asked me if I were awake. Finding that I
was, he told me what would befall the company. To save the brethren
and all who would heed him, he purchased some ponies and went with the

As we passed along the Spanish trail--said to be three hundred and
fifty years old--on the great desert, we could follow the route by
the bones of dead animals in many places. It is said that many fierce
battles have been fought between Mexicans and Indians along this trail.
So far as we were concerned, although it was known that the Indians
were very hostile, they gave us no trouble.

When we reached what is called the Rim of the Basin, where the waters
divide, part running into the Colorado River and on to the Pacific
Ocean, and part into the Salt Lake Valley, the company called meetings,
and several made speeches, saying there must be a nearer and better
route than that on which the Mormon guide was leading them. One
Methodist and one Campbellite preacher in the company said that they
had started to California, and not hellwards, as the Mormon guide had
stated at the outset, quoting what Captain Hunt had said just before
starting. Others claimed that they had been on the mountains, and upon
looking west had seen something green, which they asserted was an
indication of water. Some of them celebrated the proposed separation
from us by boring holes in trees then filling these with powder and
firing them, exploded the trees in symbol of the break-up of the

Next morning all but seven wagons turned off to the right,
toward the supposed Walker's Pass. We preferred to follow the guide.
The company was thoroughly warned by Captain Hunt of the danger of
dying from lack of water. In our party there were eleven men, two women
and three children. The main company expressed pity for us and tried
to persuade us to go with them, but we felt confident that our course
was the safest, notwithstanding their superior numbers. They seemed to
rejoice at their conclusion, while we regretted it for their sakes.
Thus we separated, the emigrant company heading for Walker's Pass, and
our small party continuing on the old Spanish trail, or southern route
to California.



WHEN the company had separated the weather was very threatening, and it
soon began to snow very fast. We pulled on until late in the afternoon,
and camped on the mountain. Next day we came to some Indian farms
where the savages had raised corn, wheat and squash. We passed on to
the Santa Clara, followed it down for three or four days, and found
a written notice to those who came that way: "Look out, for we have
killed two Indians here." With this warning, we felt that we must keep
a vigilant guard all the time. From the Santa Clara we had a very long
drive across the mountain and down a long, dry, rocky slope until we
came to the Rio Virgen. We went along that stream three or four days;
where we left it we found a cow with an Indian arrow sticking in her.
We next passed over a high plateau to a stream well named the Muddy.
There we laid by and doctored and shod our lame cattle.

While we were on the Muddy, Brother C. C. Rich and party came down
the stream to us, bringing sad and heartrending news from the great
emigrant company, which had broken into factions and become perfectly
demoralized and confused. Some had taken packs on their backs and
started on foot, their cattle dying, their wagons abandoned. All were
despondent, and unwilling to listen to anybody. I think, from the
best information we ever got of them, I would be safe in saying that
four-fifths of them met a most horrible fate, being starved or choked
to death in or near what was afterwards called Death Valley. In after
years the miners of Pahranagat found the irons of the wagons very handy
for use in their pursuits.

On the Muddy we burned charcoal and made nails to shoe our cattle,
having to throw the animals down and hold them while Apostle C. C. Rich
shod them. Brother Rich did his work well, for the shoes never came
loose till they wore off.

From the Muddy I accompanied Captain Hunt and Henry Rollins twelve
miles and found some small pools of water about two miles to the right
of the trail; I went back to turn the packers to it, while Captain
Hunt and Henry Rollins went ahead in search of more pools of water and
found some. George Q. Cannon and I stayed there as guides for the wagon
train, and turned them off to the water. When the train arrived, about
11 o'clock p.m., we had to dip water with cups and water the stock from
buckets. Then we pressed on till daylight, made a halt long enough to
take breakfast, and pushed on, for there was no feed for our stock.

About 2 p.m. we came to the Los Vegas, where we rested a day, then
continued our journey over mountains and across dry deserts from day
to day until we reached a stream of water about three rods wide. It
was so strong with alkali that we dared not allow our cattle to drink
of it, but put the lash to them so that they could not get a sup as we
crossed it twice. Thence we traveled across a very sandy desert for
twelve miles to the Salt Springs, where the train went around a point
of the mountain. A. Pratt and I, with three or four others, followed
on a small trail that passed over a notch of the mountain. While going
through a narrow pass, Brother A. Pratt said it looked as if there
might be gold there. At that we went to looking in the crevices of
the rock, and in a few minutes one of the party found a small scale,
and then another. Among the rest, I saw the precious metal projecting
from a streak of quartz in the granite rock. From there we went over
about one and a half miles to the Salt Springs, and met with the teams.
Several of the party journeyed back to look further for the gold. I
took along a cold chisel and hammer, and chipped out some at the place
I had found, but as our teams were weakening very fast and there was
neither food nor water at that place to sustain our stock, we had to
push on across the sandy desert of seventy-five miles, day and night,
until we came to the Bitter Springs.

These were the springs that Captain Hunt had told the emigrant company
about before they left Salt Lake City, that from thence it was "away
hellward to California or some other place." It certainly began to
look that way now, when our cattle began to weaken and die all along
the trail. The springs would have been as properly named if they had
been called Poison Springs, instead of Bitter, for it seemed that from
that place our cattle began to weaken every moment, and many had to
be turned loose from the yoke and then shot to get them out of their

We had to shoot one of Brother Pratt's oxen to end its suffering. This
act fell to my lot. Oh, how inhuman and cruel it seemed to me, to drive
the patient and faithful dumb animal into a barren desert, where there
is neither food nor drink, to goad him on until he falls from sheer
exhaustion, so that he bears any punishment, to make him rise, that his
master sees fit to inflict, without giving a single moan, then to walk
around and calmly look him in the face and fire the deadly missile into
his brain, then leave his carcass to the loathsome wolves and birds of

In looking back over a period of fifty years since then, the writer
cannot call to memory a single act in his life that seemed so cruel
and ungrateful as that; and still there was no earthly means to save
the poor creature from a more horrible death, which would have come if
he had been left in that driving snowstorm, when his whole frame shook
with cold, there to lie and starve--one of the most miserable deaths
that the human mind can conceive of. Of the two evils we chose the
least by ending the suffering in a moment, when it would have taken
hours if it had not been for this act of mercy, as we call it after
taking in the whole situation.

From Bitter Springs our team took the lead to the end of the journey,
or to Williams' Ranch, being the first team that ever crossed over
the Cajon Pass going west, as I remember. Ascending to the first pass
from the Bitter Springs our situation was most gloomy. In mud and
snow, with darkness come on, every rod of the road became more steep
and difficult. The summit was two miles ahead and the nearest team
half a mile back. We moved by hitches and starts, and could only make
three or four rods at a time. Two of us pushed at the wagon while the
other drove. Our guide was a few feet ahead, marking out the road, and
saying, "Crowd up, boys, if possible. Let us wallow on over the summit,
for it is our only salvation to cross and try to open the road if
possible for the weaker teams."

Finally, with a shout of triumph, we reached the summit in two feet of
snow, at 11 o'clock at night. Our guide told us to go on down and build
fires at the first place where we could find anything for our stock,
and he would go back and cheer the rest on as best he could.

The descent being quite steep, we soon made the distance of three or
four miles to where there was but about six inches of snow, and where
we found some feed. Our matches were all damp, and we were wet as could
be. We split up our spare yoke and struck fire with flint and steel,
crawled into the wagon, and started a fire in the frying-pan. Then, as
there was plenty of fuel, we made a roaring fire outside, took a bite
to eat, and turned in for a few moments' rest, being satisfied that the
others of the party had halted before they reached the summit, and as
the guide was with them we thought they would take a rest and come on
at daybreak.

This conjecture proved right, for about 4 o'clock a.m. Captain Hunt
hallooed to us and called for a cup of coffee. He seemed to be chilled
to the bone, so we soon stirred the fire and got him something to eat.
He told us all the teams would make the riffle, but for us to have
a good fire, for some of the men would be chilled nearly to death.
Then he directed us to go ahead until we found feed for the stock,
and he would remain until the company came up. We advanced about ten
miles, and halted for our cattle to feed and rest. In the meantime
we discovered the company coming down the slope of the mountain. Our
feelings, as well as theirs, were much relieved at the sight, as we
beheld each other, and when they had rested their teams they came on to
our camping place for another stop, while we moved ahead to the Mohave
River. When we reached that stream, I presume that we felt as pleased
as a man liberated from a life sentence in a dungeon, for we had reason
to feel assured that we would succeed in our journey, as we had only
one more hard scramble of thirty miles, and had pleasant weather and
plenty of feed and water for our stock, with time to rest in. Some
shouted: "Daylight once more; thank God for our deliverance!"

It was while we lay here that some of the company which had parted
with us at the Rim of the Basin came up to us with packs on their
backs, half-starved. The story of the condition of their comrades was
horrifying beyond description. Men, women and children suffered death
alike by thirst and starvation. This painful episode affords one more
instance of where the majority had been wrong and the minority right.
The new arrivals said that when we parted from them they were sorry for
us. But now we were more sorry for them than they had been for us.

We divided our food the second or third time to relieve these starving
people, then pursued our course up stream for nine or ten days. There
we rested our cattle, did some hunting, and replenished our food supply
with wild meat, principally venison, quail and the gray squirrel. We
found plenty of wild grapes, and also discovered that the raccoon lived
in that part of the world.

It was about the 17th of December when we crossed the Cajon Pass, in
the Sierra Nevada Mountains; from thence we moved via the Cocomonga
Ranch to Williams' Ranch, arriving there on December 24th. At Williams'
we found C. C. Rich and party; we joined in with them and had a
good Christmas dinner. There we traded for new supplies to last us
up to the gold mines on the Mariposa and the Stanislaus rivers, in
northern California, or the upper country. The writer acted as pilot,
interpreter and quartermaster for the company of something like fifty

It was about the 27th of January when we left the ranch, from which
we traveled to Los Angeles, thence twenty miles to the north, where
C. C. Rich and ten or fifteen men left us, and H. Egan took charge of
the company as captain. We followed up the Santa Barbara road at the
rate of fifteen miles per day. The roads were very rough and hilly.
The whole country was still in a very wild state. We were frequently
warned to be on our guard for bandits, which were said to be roaming in
the locality. We passed in peace, however, nothing out of the general
routine happening until we arrived at the San Antonio Mission. The
alcalde invited me into the chapel. To me, at that time, it seemed
to be very grand, so attractive was the decoration. The alcalde then
opened the gates of the cemetery, in which I saw a pillar of burnt
adobes with four Indian skulls on it, for the rest of the Indians
to see what they might expect if they committed any outrages on the

From all that I have learned about Spain's treatment of the red men,
it has been very cruel, yet the Spaniards claimed their methods were
necessary in order to Christianize the aborigines. At that time the
Indians in California were more cruelly treated than the slaves in the
south; many of them had scars on their backs ten or twelve inches long,
caused by the lash of the Spaniards.

We continued our journey up towards San Francisco until the 11th of
February, when we arrived at a town called the Mission San Juan. There
we received a letter from Apostle C. C. Rich; it was dated February
8, 1850. The mission was old and dilapidated, and at that date was
occupied by a very rough class of men. The surrounding country was very
beautiful and fertile.

About 7 o'clock that same evening Captain Howard Egan assembled the
company together, and called on the writer to take charge. Then he went
forward to overhaul the company that had preceded us. Next morning we
continued on our journey, crossing a deep stream of water, and going to
near Fisher's Ranch, where we received a few lines from Captain Egan,
ordering us to stop the ox teams and forward the mule teams to San Jose
to get provisions. We obeyed, and purchased a beef animal and dried the

When Captain Egan returned to camp he told me that Apostle C. C. Rich
thought I had better continue with the company on to the mines, until I
saw or heard from him again. Accordingly I did so.

Retracing our steps about four miles, we turned to the left on a trail
that led us to Gilroy's Ranch, thence to Rancho Pacheco. There we met
a Frenchman who directed us across the mountains. Meantime our company
appointed six of us to precede the wagons and mark out the road, as we
were again entering into a wilderness with no roads except Indian and
wild animals' trails.



ON the second day of our journey toward the mines we were confronted
by a band of wild mustang horses. Two of our men who happened to be
half a mile ahead of the other four of us were cut off from us by the
wild animals, so that the confusion of the situation was such that we
did not rejoin them for three days. The band was about three hours
in passing us, and the trail was one mile in width. We thought it a
low estimate to say that there were seven or eight thousand horses.
There seemed to be hundreds of the finest animals dashing up and down,
flanking the main herd, and driving, and shaping the course followed.
To save ourselves and our horses from being taken in by them, we tied
our horses' heads close together, and then stood between them and the
wild band with our rifles in hand ready to shoot the leaders or any
stallion that might attempt to gather in our horses, as we had heard
that they did not hesitate to attempt to do when out on the open plains
as we were. We supposed from all that we could learn that they had been
to the San Joaquin River for water, and were returning over the plains
to the foothills for pasture. The noise made by them as they galloped
past us was like distant, heavy thunder, only it was a long, continuous
roar or rumbling sound; we stood in almost breathless silence, and
mingled fear and delight, and viewed the magnificent picture. At last
the animals passed, and we heaved a sigh of relief.

We proceeded on for about four hours, when we had to call another halt
and take similar precautions, and for the same reason, except that
there were only about five hundred horses. When they passed we steered
our course for the lower end of the Tulare Lake, where, so we had
heard, a ferry had been located a few days before. As there was no road
to travel, we thought we would go high enough and then follow the San
Joaquin River down until we came to the crossing.

Night overtaking us, we camped by a slough where bear tracks, large and
small, were in great abundance. For fear of Indians we dared not make
much fire, so we passed a very lonely night, being filled with anxiety
about our lost comrades, not knowing what had become of them; for, as
near as my memory serves me, this was our second night camp since they
were separated from us. To add to our troubles and gloom, the night was
intensely dark, and a drizzling rain was falling.

Suddenly our horses all broke from us. We followed them by the sound
of their feet as they ran, and after a long chase through swamps and
sloughs we succeeded in capturing them. Then the next trouble came. We
had lost one man and all our pack, and were without supper. Being out
of hailing distance, it was by mere chance that we found our man and
camp late in the night. Our horses had become so frightened that it was
necessary to sit up till morning, to keep them quiet; so that only two
of us could get a dreamy snooze at a time.

Next morning dawned and our friends were still missing. We journeyed
on, passing down the sloughs to the river. At times it seemed that the
whole feathered tribe had met over our heads and all around in one
grand carnival, to consult over the advent of the white man into that
swampy country. We had never before beheld such a grand aggregation of
waterfowl, and the writer has never seen its equal since. For a time,
we could not understand each other's talk, because of the clatter. Our
next surprise was about five hundred elk which passed in front of us,
but the deep sloughs between prevented our replenishing our scanty
store of rations.

Soon we were pleased at falling in with our lost friends. They had
found a lone wagon trail towards the river. We dispatched two of our
party to meet the main company, and the rest of us followed the wagon
trail to the river, where we found a man named Woods who had got
there three days ahead of us, with a rowboat and a small supply of
provisions and groceries. Salt pork and hard sea biscuit were selling
at seventy-five cents per pound, and everything else proportionately
high. The boat had just been launched.

The next day, when the wagons came in, we took them apart and crossed
in a boat, all except my wagon; it being heavy and having the rodometer
attached to it, we got a cable rope and thought to tow the wagon over
with the load, but when it had reached the middle of the river, which
was about fifteen rods wide, the rope parted and the wagon turned over
and over. Then Irwin Stoddard jumped in and made the rope fast to the
hind axle, and as he could not manage the pole of the wagon, I jumped
in to help him. Between us, we liberated the pole, so that after great
exertion and hazard of life we finally succeeded in saving the vehicle,
but we were thoroughly chilled through. We did not cross our animals
till next morning, when we drove them in and they swam over, and we
were soon on our way to and up the Merced River. Six of us proceeded
ahead of the teams, traveling on horseback, to see what we could learn
that would be of benefit to the company.

On the third day, I think it was, we came to a small mining camp called
Burns' Diggings, on the south side of the Merced River. There we struck
a very good prospect, and stopped until the main company came up. As it
was evident that we could take from twelve to fifteen dollars per day to
the man, we advised the company to begin work there, as the country was
so muddy and soft that we could not make much headway in traveling
higher into the foot hills. They agreed to accept our advice; then came
a quite laughable performance. Those who had been the very worst drones
in camp were now the first with the pick and washpan. They pitched into
the creek as if they expected to scoop up the gold by shovelfuls, leaving
their teams hitched to their wagons; while those who had been on hand
early and late, taking a more methodical view of things, first formed
the camp, got their dinner, and then went quietly to prospecting up
and down the creek. By this time our drones decided there was no gold
there, and that they would go where there was some. What a lesson we
learned there of human nature! The next day, however, things settled
down a little more like business, after it was ascertained that some
had been making from fifteen to twenty-five and fifty, and some even as
high as one hundred dollars per day, to the man. Next day, Captain Egan
and five others of our number were elected to go further up into the
mountains and prospect for the company, while the others dug gold. The
latter were to keep an account of all they earned, and when we returned
they were to give us an equal share with those who stayed and worked.

On these conditions six of us set out on horseback and with pack mules.
When we got well into the mountains it began to rain and snow so that
we were not able to do much but cut browse for our horses. The snow
became so deep that we had to go ahead of our horses and break the road
so as to get out. We were soaked to the skin, and our bedclothes were
all wet. Our provisions were almost gone; so we set out for our camp,
after spending ten days in a most miserable condition. We traveled
in snow two and a half feet deep from 2 p.m. until 6 a.m. before we
succeeded in reaching camp, when we found that Apostle Rich had been
there, and the men had sent every dollar's worth of gold they had dug
in our absence to Stockton for supplies of provisions, clothing, tools,
etc., so there was none left to pay us our proportion.

As Apostle C. C. Rich had brought word that Brother A. Pratt desired me
to meet him in San Francisco by a certain date, I packed up my effects,
sold my oxen to Captain Jefferson Hunt for two hundred dollars, and
bade adieu to the rest of the camp, who owed me one hundred dollars,
and they yet owe it.

I traveled in company with C. C. Rich and Howard Egan. On the 20th of
March, when we got out of the hills, we took the main road to Stockton,
crossing the Merced, Tuolumne, and Stanislaus rivers, all tributaries
to the San Joaquin River. We arrived in Stockton on March 28th. The
place was at that time a point of debarkation where freight was landed
for the many mining camps. There were a few trading establishments and
warehouses, and three or four large gambling houses in and around which
were gathered freighters, packers, and one of the most motley gangs it
has ever been my lot to see. Bands of music were in the gambling halls.
At one of these I noted twelve tables, four men at each, armed with
bowie knives and revolvers; and to me it looked as if there were more
gold and silver exposed on those twelve tables than six mules could
draw. On the street and around the door, calling on the passers-by to
come in and have a free drink and listen to the music, were men whom I
soon learned were called cappers, or ropers-in, to the gambling hall;
they would steam men up with drink, get them to gambling, and rob them.
Sometimes men would come in from the mines with their buckskin wallets
containing three to four hundred dollars' worth of gold. They would
stand around with perfect strangers and drink free whisky until they
became dazed, then would set down their wallets of gold on a card, and
the next moment their money would be taken up by the gambler, who would
continue dealing his cards as unconcernedly as he would knock the ashes
from his cigar. The poor, silly miner would turn away with a sickly
look, having not even enough left to get him a change of clothing.
He would go into the street with his old miner's clothes on, without
a dime to pay for his supper or to get a night's lodging. Sometimes
thousands of dollars would change hands in a few moments. This was
in the spring of 1850, when the strong, with revolver and bowie
knife, were law, when gamblers and blacklegs ran many of the towns in

By this time I imagine that the reader asks what, as a missionary,
I was doing there. I might answer by quoting the saying of Christ,
that it was not the righteous but the sinners that He had come to
call to repentance. But I will not offer this excuse, for it was
not applicable; and as open confession is good for the soul, I will
make one, hoping that it may be not only good for my soul, but be a
warning to all who read it. I was twenty-one years old at the time,
and was alone on the street. I did not know where to go or what to
do. My companions had left on business, and as I started along the
street I met with an old time friend who appeared very much pleased to
see me. His pleasure was reciprocated. He asked me to go in and have
something to drink; I thanked him and said that I was not in the habit
of indulging. He said, "Oh, come in, and have a little wine for old
friendship's sake. There is no harm in a little wine; come, go in and
hear the music, anyway." With that I turned in with him to the largest
gambling den in the town. The place was packed with men of almost every
nationality. This was the house I have described.

In the time of great excitement, it must be confessed, the writer was
tempted to lay down a purse of one hundred dollars, as he had that
amount with him. But the next instant the thought came to him, Would
you try to beat a watchmaker or a gunsmith at his trade? The idea
was so absurd that he then thought how foolish it was to try to beat
these professional gamblers at their own game. Then the disgrace that
attached to the act became so repulsive to his nature, that he felt
ashamed that he ever had been tempted; and to this day, in a life of
seventy-two years, he has never gambled. He has always felt thankful
that that simple thought came to him at that time and place.

As soon as I could arrange a little business that detained me at
Stockton, I boarded a steamboat called the _Captain Sutter_, bound for
San Francisco, paying twenty-five dollars for a seventy-five mile ride
on the crowded deck. I paid two dollars for a dinner that consisted
of tough beef, poor bread, and a cup of tea. Such were "times" in
California in 1850.

We landed at the great wharf in San Francisco about 8 o'clock that
evening, April 5th. I went up town, where the streets were crowded,
then returned and slept on the deck of the boat. Next morning, I took
my trunk to the Boston House, and leaving it there, sought friends.
I was not long in finding Brother Morris, who directed me to Brother
Cade's, who, together with his good lady, received me very kindly. He
inquired if I had any place to stop at, and when I told him no, he
said, "Stop and have dinner with us, then bring your trunk here and
stay until you can do better, if you can do with such fare as we have.
We are old and cannot do very well, but you are welcome to stay with us
as long as my old lady can cook for us."

With thanks, the writer accepted the kind offer, and from there visited
the Saints in San Francisco. I met Amasa M. Lyman and Charles C.
Rich, two of the Twelve Apostles, also found Addison Pratt, my fellow
missionary. Brother and Sister Cade were not willing that I should stop
over night at any other place, or pay for my washing. The good old lady
said she had money enough to last her while she lived and pay for the
washing of my clothes. Sister Ivins, who lived near by, sent for my
clothes and had them well laundered. While I stayed there, Sister Cade
presented me with five dollars and a nice silk handkerchief, and the
old gentleman gave me a good inkstand. Sister Patch, who lived near by,
gave me five dollars and a silk vest, and many of the Saints showed us

On April 19th we carried our trunks on board the brig _Frederick_,
Captain Dunham commanding. The fare was one hundred dollars each, in
the cabin. We returned on shore and stayed over night, and having
received our instructions and blessings from Apostles A. M. Lyman and
C. C. Rich, we boarded the vessel at 6 o'clock a.m., April 20, and
sailed away to the southwest, for the island of Tahiti, South Pacific



LEAVING San Francisco on April 20, 1850, the wind being fair, we made
about eight knots per hour, and soon lost sight of the land over which
the Stars and Stripes waves. The writer became very seasick, and
remained so for the voyage. He was seven days without an action of his
bowels, and he could not retain any kind of food on his stomach until
we got down in the tropics, when two flying fish flew aboard ship at
night, and the steward cooked them for the sick man. That was the first
thing he had a relish for. The captain said that if he had ever heard
of anybody dying of seasickness he would have had no hopes of getting
the writer ashore.

The monotony of the voyage was broken only by vast fields of seaweed,
so dense that it greatly impeded our progress. Seabirds and fish were
very plentiful, and many times attracted the attention of the voyagers,
who caught several kinds of fish, including dolphin, shark and
porpoise. The fishing afforded some amusing sport, the writer gaining
courage enough at one time to crawl out on the jibboom and catch one

The most trying event of the whole voyage was a calm in the torrid
zone, where we lay for eight days; it was said that in that time we
gained only eight miles. During that calm all the pitch broiled out of
the seams of the deck, making it leak so that it had to be recalked and
repitched. It became so hot that a man could not endure his bare feet
on it, and if it had not been for the seamen throwing water on deck
it seemed that we could not have lived through the terrible ordeal.
Finally a gentle breeze came to our relief, and we were wafted in sight
of the Marquesas Islands. We passed so close to these that the captain
expressed a fear that we were in danger of being attacked by the
natives of Nukahuia, the principal island. He said they were cannibals,
and that small vessels had been captured by the natives coming off in
such numbers, in canoes, as to overpower the crews. Hence he thought it
dangerous to be so close with such light winds as we had. The wind soon
freshened to a gale, and thus our fears were allayed as we bore down
close along to the northward of the Tuamotu group, sighting some of
them, to Tahiti, on which we landed on May 24, 1850.

Tahiti is the principal island of the Society group; it is said to
be eighty miles in length, varying from two miles at the isthmus to
forty miles in the widest place. The highest mountain summit is said
to be five thousand feet or more. The capital, Papeete, is in latitude
17 degrees 32 minutes south, longitude 144 degrees 34 minutes west.
The islands were invaded by the French in 1843. In 1847 the war was
concluded, but not until much blood had been spilled and the country
laid waste. Then a French protectorate was established there, and
consequently, at the time we arrived, we found ourselves under the
French flag, and had to apply to Governor Bonard for permission to
go on shore. This was granted, but very reluctantly, and we paid the
secretary three francs for each of us.

Once on shore, we found Brother Pratt's old friends, Hamatua and
Pohe, who treated us very kindly and on May 25th got our baggage from
the vessel, then took us in their boat around the northeast of the
island to their home in a little village called Huaua, where we were
met by their families and six or seven Church members. It seemed to
be impossible for them to rejoice any more than they did, and under
the circumstances we could not be treated with greater kindness. They
provided us with the best the land produced, making us cordially

Brother Pratt preached to them, while I was deaf and dumb, so far as
the spoken language was concerned; but the actions of the natives spoke
louder than words. When it came to meal time, they spread before us
roast pig, and fish, taro, fais, bananas, cocoanuts, sweet-potatoes,
popoie, oranges, pine and vee apples, doavas, bread fruit, etc. We had
appetites equal to the occasion, and felt no remorse for not having
done justice to the table, or to the chest which was a substitute for a

We soon learned that the Protestant ministers and Catholic priest were
very much prejudiced against us, and were doing all they could to
prevent the people receiving us into their houses, advising them not to
hold any conversation with us, or attend our meetings. We also learned
that the government officials were jealous of Mormon influence, and
that a watch was kept over us, in other words, the natives said that
detectives were on our track, and that a ship of war had been sent
to Tubuoi for Elders B. F. Grouard and T. Whitaker, who were on that
island as Mormon missionaries, and who had been accused of speaking
against the government. It may be imagined, therefore, that in all
respects our stay was not so pleasant as otherwise it might have been.

As it was, however, we made the best of the situation. Brother Pratt
preached and talked much of the time to a few who gathered around, and
he soon baptized six persons. I studied the language by committing a
few words to memory, then forming them into sentences, and having them
corrected by the natives. Then, when I heard one tell another what to
do, I watched what was done. I collected many sentences, and walked
the beach till I committed them to memory. At first it seemed a very
difficult task to catch the sounds, but in a short time I could begin
to understand, and then to talk. For a change I would rest myself
from studying the language by practicing reading and writing, having
provided myself with copybooks and other necessary material before
leaving San Francisco.

The home we had been made so welcome to was situated a few rods from
the beach, and between two little streams of water that came tumbling
down from the steep precipices in the background into a small valley,
which was heavily timbered. There were some six or seven small huts or
dwellings and twenty-five or thirty people all told. No business was
carried on further than gathering the fruit that grew, uncultivated,
in abundance for the needs of the population; and with little effort
they caught fish as they cared to consume it. As most of the people
of the village were quiet and peaceable, it will be understood why we
called the place our lonely retreat, or lonely Huaua. We visited other
villages occasionally, and tried to interest the inhabitants and preach
to them, but in vain. They would give us food, and sometimes offered to
keep us over night, but as a rule they were very cold and indifferent
towards us.

Under the circumstances the best we could do was to study the language
and prepare ourselves for future usefulness as the way might open.
Meanwhile, many rumors were in circulation about the French driving
the Mormons out of the country; and the Protestant ministers and
Catholic priest seemed to spare no pains to spread all the slanderous
stories they ever had heard about the Mormons. So many rumors were in
circulation that we did not know what to believe, so we remained in
suspense till July 17, when, to our surprise, Brother Grouard came in
through a heavy rain and told us that he and Brother Whitaker had been
brought from Tubuoi, where they had been building a small schooner for
the use of the mission. He said they had been arrested on the charge of
speaking against the French government. They had landed that morning
from a ship of war, and he had got permission to come and see us, but
had to return that evening so as to be at the trial next morning. He
had left a horse five miles back, because the road was so rough that he
could cover the distance on foot quicker than on horseback, and had no
time to lose. He greatly desired that Brother Pratt and I should be at
his trial. Said he, "I am innocent, but I do not know what they will
prove, and we want you to stand by us." So it was agreed that Brother
Hamatua and I should go on foot early next morning, and Brothers Pratt
and Pohe would come as soon as the wind quieted down, as it was then
too high to venture out in the boat.

Brother Hamatua and I set out early in the morning, in a heavy rain,
which continued to pour down till we reached Papeete, at 11 o'clock,
when we met Brother Grouard coming from his trial, he having been
discharged. He said Brother Whitaker would also be acquitted, although
the prejudice against them was very strong.

Brothers Grouard and Whitaker thought the government would board and
lodge them at least till it got ready to return them home again, but
in this they were mistaken, so they and I did the best we could for
ourselves. We soon learned that the steamship _Sarien_ would leave for
Tubuoi in three or four days, and the brethren would be taken back on
that. Brother Grouard sought the permission of the governor for Brother
Pratt and me to go on the _Sarien_ with him. This was refused on the
ground that two Mormon missionaries were enough on that island. The
governor did not wish any more to go until he knew more about them.

The wind kept so high that Brother Pratt did not reach Papeete until
Brothers Grouard and Whitaker had been acquitted and had gone. I had
started home, and was overhauled by Brother Grouard, who said something
had broken on the ship and they had to stop to repair it; that he
could not remain to see Brother Pratt, but would stay with me as long
as he could. He had only a few moments to stop, so I proceeded about
six miles, when I learned that Brother Pratt was on the way by boat.
Upon obtaining this information I went back to the house where we had
stayed two or three nights, finding the place barren and uninviting.
Everything was very lonely with no friends there. I feared that I would
be alone that night, but at last Brother Pratt came. The boat had
stopped, with our bedding and provisions, three or four miles up the
coast. Although the night was very dark, and the road lay through the
woods and across creeks, Brother Pratt thought we had better try to
make the boat for the night, as we had to give up going to Tubuoi.

This course was followed, and we found our friends and bedding all
right. Not being satisfied, however, with the situation, we went back
to Papeete next morning, to see the governor ourselves. When we met
him, Brother Pratt asked the reason why we could not be free to go
where we chose. He replied that there had been some trouble with Mr.
Grouard, and as it was his business to look after government affairs,
he wished to inquire into the matter further before permitting more
American missionaries to go there. Said he: "While I do not wish to
interfere with religion, it is my duty to keep peace, and if you will
call again in a month or six weeks, I will let you know more about it."

At this we went to the boat, and with our friends returned to lonely
Huaua. Indeed, if it had not been for our friends Hamatua and Pohe and
their families, our stay at the place for some time after this would
have been very uncomfortable. Food had become very scarce, so that we
had to eat seasnails, and bugs that played on the surface of salt water
pools. These bugs were about the size of the end of a man's thumb; in
form and action they very much resembled the little black bugs found
along the edges of our fresh water streams, and called by some people
mellow bugs. I submit that a dish of these, without pepper or salt, was
a strange sight to present to a white man--their legs sticking out in
all directions; yet, when a man has gone long enough without food, they
become quite tempting, and he is not very particular about the legs,

We also had other strange dishes set before us. When other food failed,
the natives would go to the mouths of small fresh water streams, and
dig in the sands, just where the high tide flowed, and at a depth of
twelve to eighteen inches they would find a something that resembled
young snakes more than anything else I can compare them to. They were
from six to ten inches in length, had a snake's mouth, and a spinal
column, or we should have called them worms; they were without fins, or
we might have called them eels. The natives had a name for them, but
I have forgotten it. When they were boiled in salt water--put a quart
or two into a pot of cold seawater, then hang them over the fire and
see them squirm a few moments--they were ready for the missionary's
meal, taken without pepper or salt. When cooked, a person seizes one
by the head and extracts it from the dish, or the banana leaf, as the
case may be. He retains the head between his thumb and forefinger, then
takes hold of the body with his teeth, draws it through these, and
thus strips off the flesh in his mouth. He then lays down the head and
backbone, and repeats the operation until he has completed his repast.

Just a moment, my friendly reader; we have another dish for you on the
Society Islands, that you may enjoy better. It is a peculiar kind of
fish, very rare indeed, for they seldom appear more than once or twice
in a year: then they are present by myriads. They come up out of the
sea into the fresh water streams so thickly that they can be dipped up
with a frying-pan or bucket. Sometimes the natives dip them up with an
open bucket, or with a sack having a hoop in the mouth, thus taking
them by bushels. These fish are of a dark color, and from half an
inch to an inch and a quarter long. When boiled they look like boiled
rice, and a man can eat about as many of them as he can grains of that
vegetable. When they are eaten with the cream of the cocoanut they are
quite palatable. This dish is not very common, as I remember seeing it
in only three or four places.

Besides the dish named, we had a small shellfish called maava. It
lives in a shell so much like a snail's that we called it a seasnail.
It was cooked in the shell, and was quite acceptable for a change in
hard times. We also had a large shellfish called pahua; again, we had
a jelly-fish which, when taken and laid in a dish, very much resembled
the white of an egg; it had neither scales nor bones, and was eaten
raw, without pepper or salt.

Still another course of food which we had was wild boar from the
mountains. I can only say that the flesh is hard and tough. Brother
Pratt shot a boar with his shotgun. This pleased the natives very much.
I also gave chase to one which led me so far away from water that I
felt I should die of thirst and heat. On my descent returning, I came
to a lone cocoanut tree that had plenty of nuts on. I tried in vain to
climb the tree; then I clubbed the nuts that were only forty feet or
so up, but finding that it was impossible to obtain drink in that way,
I sat down in the shade in despair, and felt for a moment that I could
not live to reach water. At last my nerves became somewhat steadied,
and I took aim at the stem of a nut, it being not so thick as my little
finger. The bullet cut one stem entirely away and passed through
another close to the nut. Thus two cocoanuts dropped, and hopes of
life sprung up anew, only to perish, for I found it impossible to open
the nuts. After a brief rest, I started down the mountain again, and
succeeded in reaching a cocoanut grove where an old man was throwing
down nuts. I told him of my suffering and he hastened down, opened a
nut, and gave me a drink that was most refreshing. May he receive a
prophet's reward, for he gave me drink when it seemed that life was
fast ebbing away. The welcome draught refreshed me so that I gained the
village early, being wiser for the experience of following wild boars
in the mountains away from water. Although the temptation came to me
several times afterward, I never chased a wild boar again; but at one
time I killed one which appeared to be about two years old, without a
chase. This, and hunting ducks and fishing a little, greatly relieved
the monotony of our involuntary stay.

For a change from our living at Huaua, I went to visit Pohe, nephew
of my old friend Hamatua, who lived at Tiara, three miles up the
coast, making my home with him. I visited among the people there, and
by hearing none but the Tahitian language spoken, I progressed very
fast therein; indeed my progress astonished the natives at Tiara, who
said. "The Lord helps the Mormon missionaries learn our language, for
in three months they speak it better than other foreigners do in five



DURING my stay at Tiara, news came to Brother Pratt that a schooner
from Lurutu was at Papeete, and that the captain had proffered to take
us to Tubuoi free of charge. On receiving this message I returned at
once to Huaua. Brother Pratt requested me to visit Governor Bonard, and
see if we could get permission to make the trip, it being near the time
when we were to call on him again. It was necessary for us to give him
eight days' notice of our coming, and as the vessel was to sail in ten
days, there was no time to lose.

On August 9th I set out, two native boys accompanying me. When we
reached Hapape, we saw there about four hundred soldiers. Then we met
Governor Bonard and staff, and after them saw Queen Pomere and suite,
all in their military dress. It was difficult to tell which made the
finest appearance. On our arrival in Papeete we were told that the
troops had gone out on dress parade and review, preparatory to sailing
to the island of Huhine, to settle some trouble between the natives
of that island and some shipwrecked foreigners. It was late when we
reached Papeete, and we went to the house of a native named Didi,
staying over night; he was very kind to us. I also met with the owner
of the Lurutu vessel, who told me he would take us to Tubuoi free of
charge, if we wished to go. He seemed very friendly toward us.

The next day, August 10th, I went to see the governor. I met a sentinel
at the gate, who ordered me to halt. Then he called for the officer
of the day, who told me to wait till he gave notice to the governor.
The officer went in, and soon returned and beckoned me forward. I
advanced past a second sentinel, when the officer ushered me into the
presence of his excellency, who rose from his seat and met me. When
we had shaken hands, he very politely bade me to be seated, and then
said pleasantly: "Do you speak English?" This question being answered
in the affirmative, he said, "Me speak lete." Then we entered upon a
conversation. As I understood a little French, and both of us could
speak a limited amount of Tahitian, we made a jargon of one-third
English, one-third French, and one-third Tahitian. Then we laughed
heartily at each other because of our novel attempts in the three
languages. The governor invited me to call next morning, when his
French captain, who could speak English, would be there. Then, with
French politeness, he bowed me out and off.

Next morning I went, and met the governor going to church. He said he
had forgotten it was Sunday, so I would have to wait an hour or two,
and come again. This I did, being stopped by the sentinel as before,
going through all the ceremonies of the previous visit, and being
ushered into the same room. I met the English-speaking captain, to whom
I made my business known. Said he, "The governor declines to grant
your request." I was not disappointed, for I was well satisfied from
what I had learned the day before that that would be the result, but
as the talk had not been very conclusive, I had called for a clearer
understanding, hoping the governor might yield when he understood us
better. In this I was mistaken, however, as it seemed the governor was
thoroughly filled with prejudice against even the name of Mormon Elder.

I asked Governor Bonard his reasons for detaining us where we were. He
said that in the first place he had no proof that we were good men,
and he wished to know what we would preach, and what our doctrines
and faith were. I told him that we preached the Gospel which Jesus
Christ and His Apostles preached, and could produce our credentials,
if he desired to see them. He said no, he did not wish that of us;
neither did he wish to interfere with religious matters, but it was
for peace in the country that he wished us to stop there; for if we
and everybody who desired it were allowed to set forth new doctrines
among the people, and get them divided among themselves, they would
be fighting, and it was his place to keep the peace. Said he, "Before
you go from this island, I wish to know more about your doctrine." I
told him that was what we wished him and every good man to know, and to
embrace it if he would. Then he said that he desired the Mormon Elders
to get together, and make a declaration of what they would preach
and how far they would obey the laws. I replied that that was just
what we wished to do, but if he refused us the privilege of going to
Tubuoi we did not know when we could get together. Said he, "You had
better write to your friends at Tubuoi, and have them come here. Your
faces are strange to me, and you are from a foreign country. We have
no proof that you are good men. The doctrine you preach is new to me
and if you will gather all your white brethren, and make a declaration
of the doctrine you preach, and how far you will obey the laws of the
land, signing your names to it, then, if I accept of it as being good
doctrine, you will have liberty to go anywhere you wish, and have our
protection." My answer was that we had no objection to acquainting him
with our doctrine. I asked him if he made the same requirement of other
denominations that he did of us, and received the information that he
did not. Upon this, I inquired why he made it of us, and he stated that
there had been some difficulty already with B. F. Grouard. "Well,"
said I, "did you not acquit Grouard?" "Yes," he said, "but we would
like to look further into the matter, and if possible prevent further
trouble." They had lost two good seamen going after Grouard, and one
fell overboard on the return trip, but they succeeded in rescuing him.

When I found that I could not prevail on the governor to allow us our
liberty, I left and visited the captain of the _Lurutu_. With him I
boarded his novel vessel. It was of very frail construction; all the
stays and braces were made by hand from the bark of a tree called by
the natives burson, and resembling somewhat the basswood of the Eastern
and Middle States. The captain said he sailed by the sun by day, and
at night by the moon and stars, but in cloudy weather by instinct,
or guess. I asked if they did not get lost sometimes; he said no,
they were well acquainted with the sea. They had been three years
in building the schooner. It would carry about forty tons. The crew
conveyed the products of their island three hundred and sixty miles to
Tahiti principally, but occasionally to other islands. To me the vessel
appeared a frail craft, and wholly without comforts, for white men at

Having satisfied my curiosity about the strange craft, I returned
to Huaua on August 11, and reported results to President Pratt, who
wrote immediately to the different Elders to come and sign with us
the document the governor had suggested. The mails were so irregular
and uncertain that we had not the remotest idea when our release
would come, for if ever our letters were received by the Elders, it
might be three or even six months before they could get a passage to
Tahiti. Thus the reader can see that we were doomed to tarry almost as
prisoners in the little valley of Huaua, which was only about eighty
rods wide by one hundred and fifty in length, being bounded on the
south by high, steep mountains, that were almost impossible to cross,
at least by a white man not accustomed to climbing them; and on the
northeast the open sea rolled and surged upon the rocks and the sandy
beach, to within fifteen rods of where we slept, our heads being not
more than ten feet above high water mark. This was not all; for the
Protestant ministers were very bitter against us, and so prejudiced
that it was useless for us to try to enlighten them in regard to
ourselves or our faith. They seemed to spare no pains in spreading
their venom among the people, and in every way possible intimidated the
natives so that our friends were but few, though our enemies had no
power over them. With the aid of a book, however, we could improve in
the language, and did so to the extent that when we had been there five
months the natives who were not of us said, "Surely the Lord is with
the Mormons, for in five months they speak our language better than
other foreigners do in five years. No one can learn our language like
the Mormon Elders unless the Lord helps them." Thus encouraged, we bore
our imprisonment the best we could.



ON September 5th, 1850, I met with the opportunity of going to Papeete
in a boat that was passing. My friends took me out in a canoe to the
larger vessel. I was very seasick. The wind was so high that in two
hours we were in Taunoa, where we stayed over night. On the 6th we got
to Papeete, where I received a letter from B. F. Grouard. I answered
it the same day. We found friends who treated us very kindly; then
returned to our lonely retreat, traveling through a heavy rainstorm all
the way.

We continued our studies without anything to vary the monotony until
October 2nd, when President Pratt and Hamatua, and three children from
the latter's family, took their blankets and went into the mountains
for a change, while I made a visit to my friend Pohe to get my books,
which had been left with him. When I returned I continued my studies
alone until Brother Pratt and party came back; then, on September 15th,
I went to Papeno, duck-hunting. As Sister Hamatua had some relatives
there, she and her stepdaughter accompanied me, thinking that my stay
would be made more pleasant. Sister Hamatua was between fifty and sixty
years of age, was well versed in the scriptures, and as true to her
religion as anyone I have ever met. She had never had any children of
her own, and yet she had taken three young babes, from their birth, and
nursed them at her own breast, and gave them suck and reared them. I
think one mother had died at her child's birth, and with another child
the young mother had cast it away to die, as it was illegitimate, and
she denied its being her child. The third had been promised to Sister
Hamatua before its birth, and at that time she claimed it and took it
home the same hour. I saw the children, and the natives bore witness to
the truth of the narrative here given. The youngest child was princess
of Tubuoi, her name was Aura, and at the time I write of she was a
bright girl of eight years.

We went on our journey to Papeno, passing down along the cliffs of rock
and precipitous and deep, dark caverns that were almost impassable.
The shrieking and howling of the wind as it was forced up through
the crevices in the rocks by the surging waves from the open sea,
combined with the dangers of the route, had such an effect on my nerves
that I have never desired a repetition of the hazardous trip, though
I traveled many times on the Brom (state road), parallel with the
perilous path. I had no desire to pass over or even to think of the
jeopardy we were in on that terrible trail. Suffice it to say, that we
reached our journey's end in safety, and stayed with the governor of
the village, who treated us very kindly. We returned next day, the 16th
of September. On our way we saw a ship heading for Papeete. This gave
us hope that we would get some news from the outer world.

September 22nd. Pipitila and I started for Papeete, thinking we would
meet with the Elders, or at least get some word from them. All that we
could learn was that they were expected in Tubuoi instead of in Tahiti.
We stayed in Taunaa, where we met with friends who treated us well. One
old man said that he had become tired of the English ministers, for
they preached one thing and did the opposite. Said he, "I have been a
fool that has no eyes all my life. I have belonged to the Protestant
church ever since it has been here, and still I am like a fool, for I
am black or dark in my heart. I have tried ever since the missionaries
came to get light. They came and went back and died, and still I am
a fool, and darkness fills my soul, for I never learned before that
Christ was baptized. You have given me the first light that I have ever
had on the Gospel." We returned to our home on September 25th and found
all well. On October 3rd friends from Tiara came to visit us, and for a
time broke the monotony of our island-prison life.

Nothing out of the usual happened till November 6th, when I was ready
to start on a trip of inquiry. A little girl came in and said there
was an old white man out at the creek, and that he was asking for
Brother Pratt. In a few minutes Brother S. A. Dunn came in, and to our
great surprise and joy he brought word that Brother Pratt's family and
a company of Elders had arrived at Tubuoi, all well. He had letters
for us, too. I received one from my father--the first word that I had
had since 1847. I also had a letter from my old friend and comrade,
Jonathan C. Holmes, stating that my Uncle Alexander Stephens had been
wounded in a battle with the Ute Indians in Utah County, but that he
was getting around again very well.

Brother Pratt received letters from the First Presidency of the Church,
also from Apostles Amasa M. Lyman and Charles C. Rich, all bringing
good news and words of encouragement to us. Elder Dunn told us that he
had called on Governor Bonard, who seemed very pleasant and who told
him that as soon as we would get together and make a statement of what
we would preach, and signed the same, we would have liberty to go where
we chose, and should have the protection of the French government.

November 8th we wrote as follows to the governor:

"Whereas, we, the undersigned, have been requested by his excellency,
Governor Bonard, of Tahiti, to make a statement of the intentions of
our mission to the Society Islands, in compliance therewith we proceed
to give the following:

"1st. To preach the everlasting Gospel, which brings life and salvation
to the children of men. 'For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ,
for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth,
to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.'--(Romans 1:16.)

"2nd. To teach the people by precept and by example the habits of
virtue and industry, which are so desirable to the happiness and
prosperity of civilized life.

"3rd. To observe and keep the laws of every land wherein we dwell,
so far as it is required of preachers of the Gospel in Christian
countries; and to teach and admonish the people to observe and keep the
laws of the land.

"Huaua, Tahiti, November 8, 1850.

                                           "[Signed] Addison Pratt,
                                                   "Simeon A. Dunn,
                                                   "James S. Brown."

We started on November 10th to see the governor and present to him
the foregoing. Traveling on foot, we went to Papeno, where we were
very kindly received by the governor, at whose house we stopped over
night. Many of his friends called to see and greet us. On the 11th we
proceeded to Papeete, arriving there in time to pass the guard and
be ushered into the governor's office, where we were received very
coldly. The governor was engaged talking with two officers. We stood
until observed, from a side room, by a French officer, who invited
us (speaking in English) to come in and be seated; he then called an
interpreter. When the latter came he looked over the article that we
had presented, and rejected it. Then he produced one which the governor
had had drawn up, and which he read as follows:

"On my arrival at Tahiti, two or three persons styled Mormon
missionaries were residing either at Tubuoi or at the Pamutus. As
they were already there, I thought it proper to allow them to remain,
considering the small number of persons forming the mission, upon
conditions, however, that they attended strictly to the laws which
govern the lands of the protectorate, not interfering in any way with
politics or civil matters, but solely religious, with which I have no
intention whatever to interfere.

"Now that a large number of persons attached to the Mormon mission
request permission to reside at the Society Islands, tending to create
a sort of church government embracing all the lands of the protectorate
of France, to create, it might be said, a new existence in the
population of the islands, it is now my duty to interfere.

"I requested to be informed as to what are the means of the Mormons for
their living.

"1st. From whence the society of Mormon missionaries derive the power
of forming themselves into a body?

"2nd. What are the forms of government and the discipline which govern
this society?

"3rd. What guarantee of morality and good conduct do they require from
members appointed as missionaries for the foreigners?

"4th. What guarantee do they require before conferring grades and
offices on natives?

"5th. What duty do they require either from foreigners or from native
members, not including religious dogmas, with which I shall not

"6th. What number of religious services do they hold weekly or monthly?

"7th. Finally, what morals do the Mormons preach?

"These questions put, and satisfactorily answered. This is what it is
my duty to make known to the Mormon missionaries: As men, they, as all
foreigners, are permitted to reside in the islands of the protectorate,
and have a right to French protection by conforming themselves to the
laws of the country; as missionaries, with an open pulpit which might
consequently give them great influence over the population, and create,
as it were, a new power, it is my duty to impose conditions that they
guarantee, consequently:

"1st. The Mormon missionaries shall bind themselves to preach their
religion without interfering in any way or under any pretext with
politics or civil matters.

"2nd. They shall withhold from speaking from the pulpit against the
religion established in the islands of the protectorate, or the laws
and the acts emanating from the authorities.

"3rd. They shall not exact from the inhabitants of the islands of the
protectorate any tax, either in money, labor, provisions or material.

"4th. They shall not inflict penalties upon any one, either in money,
labor, provisions, or material, for failing to comply with the rules of
the religion they preach.

"5th. They cannot acquire land in the name of the society, without the
approbation of the protectorate government.

"6th. No person can be allowed to unite himself with them, as a Mormon
missionary, in the Society Islands, before having signed that he
adheres to the present declaration, and whenever proof might be made
of guilt of an infringement of these articles, it would occasion his
exclusion from the islands of the protectorate.

"The persons calling themselves Mormon missionaries, and who sent
a delegate to me whom I could not recognize officially, are hereby
informed that before I can authorize them as a society they must reply
categorically to the questions which I have put to them; that until
then their residence is illegal, and I refuse, as it is my duty to
do, all authorization to the Mormon missionaries to take up their
residence. Moreover, it is my duty to inform them that when they are
constituted a society no meetings, except on days regularly known as
days of prayer and preaching, can be held without the permission of the
authorities, on pain of being prosecuted according to law."

When this long and proscriptive roll had been read and strongly
emphasized, we were handed a copy, and the interpreter said we could
make such answers as we saw fit. At this we went to a quiet place, and
on November 12th President Pratt wrote out the following reply:

"As it has been requested by his excellency, the governor of Tahiti,
to give answer to certain questions that he has propounded to us, we
herein comply:

"1st. First, as it is declared in the New Testament of our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ, that they that preach the Gospel shall live off
the Gospel, we are sent forth by the authority of the Church to which
we belong with expectation that those to whom we preach will contribute
to our necessities, so far as life and health are concerned, of their
own free will. Second, we have no authority from those who sent us to
the islands to form ourselves into a body compact, either civil or
religious, nor have we any intention of so doing. Third, the reason of
our going to Tubuoi is this: I, Addison Pratt, arrived at Tubuoi in
the year 1844, in the capacity of a missionary of the Gospel of Jesus
Christ. I remained there in that capacity about nineteen months, and
when I was about to leave there I was invited, by the authorities of
the island then in power, to return to them with my family, and reside
with them as their preacher. They wished also to be instructed in the
arts and sciences of civilized life. After I left Tubuoi, I went to
Anaa, to assist Mr. Grouard in his missionary labors, having been sent
for by request of the people living there. I remained at Anaa about
nine months, and while there a general conference was held, by the
people we had baptized, on the 6th of October, 1846. At that meeting a
request was made by the people of whom Aniipa was head, to send by me
to our Church, in North America, for more missionaries to assist Mr.
Grouard and myself, as the Gospel had spread in several islands of that
group. The company that has arrived at Tubuoi are the missionaries who
have been sent for, as I returned to North America in the year 1847
and laid the minutes of the conference held at Anaa, and the request
of the people of Tubuoi, before the Church. A part of that company
now at Tubuoi are preachers of the Gospel, and a part of them are
mechanics and husbandmen; they have brought with them tools and seeds
for carrying out the object for which they were sent.

"2nd. The forms of government by which the society is governed are
those set forth by Jesus Christ and His Apostles, as laid down in the
New Testament, to which we have referred.

"3rd. We request them to be strictly virtuous in every sense of the
word, observing and keeping the laws of the land wherein they dwell,
and teaching the people so to do.

"4th. We request of them all that is contained in the articles.

"5th. We request of them what is contained in the third article and
nothing more.

"6th. We have no stated times for religious services except upon the
Sabbath; we hold semi-annual conferences. Besides these, we are subject
to the will of the people.

"7th. We preach to and admonish the people to keep all the commandments
of God, and strictly obey the laws of the land wherein they dwell."

Our answer was signed by Addison Pratt, Simeon A. Dunn and James S.
Brown, and was presented to his excellency, who objected to the first
statement, about our means of support. He said he wished men to get a
living in a more honorable way than that. The second paragraph he did
not like. He seemed to dislike scripture references. We told him we had
been reared to work, that we still expected to labor for our living,
and that a part of our people had come to work and a part to preach the

After he had interrogated us to his satisfaction, and placed about us
all the restrictions that seemed possible, the governor told us that
if we would go with Mr. Dugard, one of his officers, he would give us
permits to reside among the islands of the protectorate, after we had
signed the articles he presented to us.

As we left the governor's presence, Mr. Dugard told us that, as it was
getting rather late, we had better call at his office the next morning
at 8 o'clock, and he would attend to our case. We complied with his
suggestion but did not find him at home. The lady of the house told
us to call at 2 o'clock and he would be there. In a short time we met
the interpreter who advised us to call at 11 o'clock, which we did,
finding the official ready to wait on us, as we supposed; but instead,
he directed us to go to a certain notary public, who would give us our
permits. We did as instructed and obtained the documents, paying three
francs each. Thus we were permitted to go as ministers of the Gospel
among the islands of the French protectorate.



AS there were no vessels bound for where we wished to go at this time,
on November 13th we started on our return from Papeete to Huaua, but it
rained so hard that we had to seek shelter after traveling six miles.
We came to a creek about two rods across, and began to take off our
shoes preparatory to wading it. Just then a sprightly little woman came
along and told us she would carry us across on her back. She said,
"There are little sharp shells and rocks that will cut your feet, and
they will not hurt mine, for I am used to them. My feet are tough, but
you are not used to going barefoot like us, and your feet are tender.
I will gladly carry you over free rather than see you cut your feet."
She plead with such earnestness and so innocently that it became almost
a temptation, especially as she would have considered it a great honor
to carry the servants of God, as she was pleased to call us. Said she,
"You need not be afraid that I will fall down with you; I can carry you
with ease." When her very kind offer was declined, she seemed very much
disappointed. We tried to console her by telling her how greatly we
appreciated her kindness, then proceeded on our way, but owing to the
heavy rain soon called at a native's house, where we were pleasantly
entertained. He spread the best food he had. This was put on the bed.
He also asked us to take seats on the bed, offering as an excuse, "The
fleas are so bad we have to get up there to be out of the way, or they
will get in the food."

We accepted the situation with thanks, and felt that we were right
royally treated. The people from around flocked in until the house
was so thoroughly packed with humanity that the fleas had a fine
opportunity to gorge themselves. The people did not seem to be much
annoyed by them, but talked and sang till 11, o'clock, when we turned
in for the remainder of the night, concluding that the fleas had been
so feasted that they were willing to let us slumber in peace, which we

November 14th we resumed our journey, only to be driven in by the rain,
but not until we were thoroughly drenched. Having met with our old and
well tried friend, Hamatua, when the storm subsided we continued our
journey to Papeno. A call was made on the governor of that district,
who told us that the river was so swollen that it was not safe for
white men to attempt to cross. He said the natives could go over
safely, but we could not do so, and told the party they were welcome
to stay with him all night. The writer thought that if a native could
cross the river he could, so he prepared for the attempt. The stream
was about fifteen rods wide. The governor, himself a very large and
powerful man, said, "If you go I will go with and assist you, for you
cannot cross there alone. Two natives have been swept down to the sea
and drowned. If I go with you we can cross safely, but I am afraid to
have you go alone." At that both of us got ready to cross. He took
hold of my right arm close to the shoulder. We waded in till the swift
current took our feet from under us, then we swam with all our power,
and finally gained the opposite shore by swimming three times the
width of the river. The governor could have turned and swam back again
without any trouble, but I had quite enough to satisfy my conceit, and
ever since have been willing to acknowledge that a native can beat me
in the water.

Brothers Pratt and Dunn were well satisfied to wait for the water to
fall before they tried to cross, and by late in the evening the stream
was down so that they came over with comparative ease. We stayed with
some very good friends, and on the 15th of November reached home. All
were well. Things went on as usual until the 28th, when the natives
came running and said a wild hog had come down from the mountains and
was at the next door neighbor's, with his tame hogs. The people wished
us to come with bubus (guns) and shoot him. On a previous occasion,
before I could understand the natives, a wild hog had come down and
was with the hogs of our host. There was great excitement among the
natives, so Brother Pratt hastened and got his shotgun, and went out
and killed the hog. He told me to hold on with my gun, and would not
let me know what the excitement was until it was over. Now, the natives
shouted that Prita's (Pratt's) gun was the strong one, that he was the
brave hunter and knew how to shoot, but that my weapon was too small
a bore--it could not kill if I hit the hog. But on this occasion I
outdistanced the old gentleman with my small-bore rifle. I shot the
hog just behind the shoulder; it ran a few jumps and fell in the thick
brake. As the animal was out of sight, and the natives could not see
any evidence of its having been hit, they blamed me for not letting
Brother Pratt get there first, saying he would have killed the hog and
we would have had something to eat. Brother Pratt good naturedly joined
in with them; they looked disappointed, and tried to laugh me to shame,
but in the height of their ridiculing me a lad who had followed the
track a rod or two into the brake shrieked out in terror: "Here is the
hog, dead! I was near stepping on him before I saw him!" The laugh was

The hog was soon dressed, and the natives had to examine my gun. They
concluded that both Brother Pratt and I were good gunners, and had good
weapons. The hog was a boar, a year and a half old or more, and if
it had been fat would have dressed two hundred pounds. All were well
pleased for it was a time of scarcity of food.

On December 2nd Brother Dunn and I started to go around Tahiti on foot,
passing by Papeete. Hametua Vaheni, John Layton's wife, and the two
small girls of the house, went with us to Papeete. We stayed at Faripo
the first night, with Noiini, who was very kind to us. Next morning we
proceeded on our way to Hapape, where we stopped at the house of Teahi,
a relative of Hametua Vaheni. There we took breakfast, and continued
our journey to Taunoa, where we remained over night with Tamari. There
we left our baggage while we went on to Papeete to see what news we
could get. We spent most of the day to no purpose, returning to where
we had stayed the night before.

Next morning, the 4th, we started without breakfast. On the way we
purchased a loaf of bread--a rare treat to us, as we had not even seen
bread for several days. We ate it as we walked along, stopping at a
small brook to get a drink. At Wamau, a man invited us into his house.
As it had begun to rain we accepted his kind offer with thankfulness.
Upon entering the house we were requested to take a seat upon the bed.
Some very fine oranges were set before us, and soon the house was
filled with young people mostly, who seemed very desirous of learning
who we were, where we were from, and what our business was. We told
them, and they appeared to be very much disappointed. We soon found
that they had no use for us, so we went on our way and soon came to a
cemetery in which was a large monument of masonry with an iron cross on
it. At one grave there was a candle burning. We were told by some of
the people that in the time of the war a great battle had been fought
there between the natives and the French, and that the monument had
been built in honor of a great French general who had fallen.

From there we passed on through a large cocoanut grove, and in a short
time came to a small village called Tapuna. We turned into a house and
not finding anyone at home, sat down for a rest. In a little while we
were discovered by some of the villagers, who invited us in, and as is
usual among that people, inquired of us, saying, "Who are you, where do
you come from, where are you going, and what is your business here in
our land?" When we informed them that we were ministers of the Gospel,
they were very much pleased, but when we told them that our Church
was called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, commonly
known as the Mormon Church, they almost invariably showed signs of
disappointment, and seemed to have less interest in us. Still there
were some in almost every village who were kind enough to keep us over
night, give us the very best they had, and often go with us a little
way on our journey the next day. They never failed to have a hymn sung,
and often a chapter from the Bible read, and would call on us to offer
prayer. Then the eldest of the young men who had called in--sometimes
there were ten or fifteen--would shake hands with us, followed by all
the rest, apparently according to age. The young women then would do
likewise, observing the same rule, after which the older people would
follow, the women coming first in this case, such being their custom.

Before we left Tapuna, one man desired us to visit his mother, who
was sick with consumption. We complied with this wish, but found that
she had no faith in the Gospel. From there we passed on to an English
missionary's home, the headquarters of one Mr. Chisholm. He was not in,
so we passed on to the next house, where, according to what the people
said, a very dissipated missionary had lived, and the other had come to
take his place. We were told that the newcomer was no better than the
old one, for both were drunken and lustful and behaved very badly with
the women. Such was the general reputation, among the natives, of the
Protestant clergy at that date.

We went on till we were called into a house where the people said they
wished to know what we had to say of religion. As soon as they learned
that we differed from their views they displayed no further concern in
us, and we departed. After wading many streams, and getting very tired
and hungry, we reached a village called Uairai, where we were invited
in to have a meal. We had been indoors but a few minutes when the
people of the village came running in as if to a dog fight or a monkey
show; for it was rarely they saw two white men traveling as we were,
they being accustomed to seeing the missionary in a hammock carried by
four stout men.

When we had been there a short time two men came in with a message from
the governor or chief magistrate of the village, desiring us to call at
his residence. As soon as we had partaken of refreshments we complied
with the request, the whole assemblage of people following us. We found
his honor holding some kind of meeting with the more aged people, the
exact nature of which we did not learn. He invited us in, gave us
seats, and shook hands with us very warmly. He then stood before us and
said, "Who are you, where do you come from, what is your business here,
and where are you going?" We answered that we were ministers of the
true Gospel of Jesus Christ, and were traveling to preach to all people
that were willing or wished to hear the Gospel of salvation. "Well," he
said, "that is what we want here, but I must see the French governor
and our ministers before I can give permission for any one to preach."

When the meeting was over he came to us again and said he would be
pleased to have us stop over night with him. We accepted his kind
invitation to visit his house, and all the congregation followed, for
a time seeming very desirous of learning from us the true Gospel. We
conversed with them quite awhile and there was not one to oppose us,
but all seemed very well pleased with what we had to say.

Supper over, we returned to the house of Miapui, where we had left our
valises, and where we spent the night, being well treated by our host
and by all who called on us.

Next morning our host accompanied us on our way until we met his
brother, whom he instructed to see us across a small bay that extended
up to the base of the mountain, which was so steep that we could not
go around its head. We were taken across in a canoe, paying a dollar
and a half. The man said the use of the canoe cost him that amount, but
he would take nothing for his services. He then conducted us through a
thick forest of timber and underbrush to the Brom (state) road.

We next proceed to the isthmus, to a French fort garrisoned by one
company of soldiers. The isthmus is about one and a half miles across.
From there we turned to the northwest, towards Huaua, as it was too
rough, steep and dangerous to proceed closely along the coast. We
traveled homeward till 1 o'clock p.m., when we came to a little hamlet
called Otufai. There we met a man named Aili, who invited us to dinner.
We accepted his courtesy and while there the school-teacher called and
asked us to go home with him. We also availed ourselves of this kind
invitation, finding the teacher, whose name was Tuamau, very friendly.
We spent the night with him, being treated well, but he did not evince
much interest in what we had to say on religious matters.

The following morning it was raining very hard, and for a time it
seemed that we were weatherbound; but breakfast over, it cleared off,
and we proceeded on our way to Hitia, where we stopped at the house of
Fenuas and got dinner. Then we went on to Tiara and visited with our
friend Pohe (in English, dead), or, as he was sometimes called, Mahena
Toru (third day). He made us feel very much at home. This we were in a
condition to fully appreciate, for we had traveled on foot in the hot
sands and sun about one hundred and fifty miles, until we felt that
we were almost parboiled. We had waded many streams of water, which,
though very disagreeable, helped to make our journey more tolerable,
through being cooling. The sharp rocks and shells in the water courses
made us pay penance instead of pennies for crossing them. Sometimes the
streams were so swollen and ran so swiftly as to be very dangerous,
because the crossings were so near the sea that if a man were to lose
his footing he was liable to be carried into the billows, from whence
it would be almost if not quite impossible to escape.

On the 9th of December we passed down three miles to Huaua, where we
found all our friends well, and some prospects of getting an opening to



ON the 16th of December I set out from Huaua on a short journey to
a small hamlet called Tapuna. Everywhere I went the people were
complaining of the great scarcity of food; still they managed to
furnish me with plenty, treating me very hospitably. About the 20th I
returned to Huaua and preached to the people. On the 29th and 30th I
attended to my correspondence.

January 1, 1851, I started for Tarepu, finding the roads quite muddy.
It rained heavily, so that all the streams were so swollen as to make
my journey very hard and tiresome. The majority of the people were
rather surly and indifferent, so much so as not to invite me in out of
the storm, so I had to pass along to where I found more hospitality.
The trip altogether was a hard and ungrateful one. I had to swim some
of the watercourses, and barely escaped being carried into the sea.
I got everything I had with me, even to my watch, thoroughly soaked.
Then I sought a place sheltered from the view of the passers-by, and
there dried my clothes. As I was alone almost all the time on this trip
I felt it to be long and tedious, without any profitable results, as
far as I could see. Yet I remembered that my experience was that of a
fisherman; and as my calling was to fish for men I did not complain,
but continued my journey to Hitia. There I called on one Mr. Baff, a
Protestant minister. I left a copy of the Voice of Warning for him to
read. When he returned it he sent a note thanking me for the privilege
of perusing it, but he did not express an opinion of the work. I never
had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman again.

Having been informed that Elders Pratt and Dunn had an opportunity of
going to Tubuoi, I hastened back to Huaua, to find that they had not
yet engaged their passage. After resting two or three days, Brother
Pratt sent me down to Papeete to secure passage for them on Captain
Johnson's schooner, which was expected to sail in a few days. I met
Mr. Johnson, with whom I made a contract, and returned next day. Then,
on January 13th, all hands went down to Papeete. We found that Brother
John Layton had come from California, and brought letters for us from
the Elders who had been sent to the Sandwich Islands.

Mail matters considered and answers written, the program was changed so
that Elder Dunn did not go to Tubuoi, and as Brother Pratt had to wait
a few days before he could start, part of the native family that had
accompanied us remained to see him off, while the others returned with
Brother Dunn and I to lonely Huaua. In the meantime we learned that
Priest John Hawkins was expected down from Anaa in a few days, when
Brother Dunn was to return with him to Anaa.

When we were at Huaua without Brother Pratt, the place seemed doubly
lonesome. On January 30th, I went to Papeete and learned that Brother
Hawkins had arrived with some native brethren from Metia, and that all
had started in their canoes for Huaua, to which place I repaired the
next day. All were well. The native brethren went back to Papeete, and
Brother Hawkins and wife stayed at Huaua a day or two; then he also
went down, returning to us in eight or ten days, accompanied by Elder
Joseph Busby, from Tubuoi. The latter said that he had started for
home, if it was agreeable to the brethren. He told us that it would
be two months before the brethren would come with their new schooner,
which they were building.

March 2nd, all hands went to Taunua, to a sacrament meeting. We met in
a house close down by the beach, where we saw the vessel that Brother
Busby sailed on for home. There were sixty-seven brethren and sisters
at the meeting, and we had a very good-spirited time. We returned
to Huaua; and it was on March 12th, when, in company with our old,
faithful friend and brother, Hamatua, and family, I set sail in a
whaleboat for Papara. We had a fine breeze till we came to a hamlet
called Otura, where we stayed one night and were well cared for by our
host, a brother in the Church. On the 13th we continued our voyage by
sea, having to row most of the time, for there was no wind. We reached
our destination, Papara, on the 14th, and stopped at the house of
Purua, a brother of Hamatua, who had died, and his widow had sent for
Hamatua to come and move her and her family to his home. We found our
friends here very kind, and well pleased to meet us.

While at Papara, many people came in to see us. These manifested a
desire to know who I was, and my business there, but showed great
reluctance in shaking hands with me. I learned that the cause of this
diffidence was that they were afraid of the Protestant ministers. For
a while they kept very shy of me. I called on their minister, Mr.
Chisholm, and presented him with a Voice of Warning, which I asked him
to read; but when I held it out to him he said no, he would not read
it or anything the Mormons had; "but," said he, "I want to exhort you,
and show you that you are deluded." I asked what he knew about our
Church to cause him to be so excited. He said he had had a letter from
Simeon A. Dunn, one of our Elders, and that public opinion was enough
to satisfy him that we were false teachers and deceivers of the people.
At that he called one Mr. Davis from a side room. The latter was
totally blind, and had spent most of his life on the islands. Both of
them reviled at me, and rehearsed many of the old slanders about Joseph
Smith and the Mormons. I left them in disgust, returning to my friends,
where I found many people congregated. These were quite sociable.

Soon a messenger came from the minister and asked what kind of baptism
we believed in. When I said that we believed in immersion, that seemed
to please the people very much, as I turned to the third chapter of
Matthew and showed them that Christ was baptized in that manner. From
that time the house was thronged with people anxiously inquiring for
the doctrines we taught.

On March 16th I was sent for by a sick man, who wanted to be anointed.
When I told him about the order of the Church, and that he should
repent and be baptized for the remission of his sins, and thus become
entitled to the blessings of the Gospel, he said that it was of no use
to him for he was a great sinner and could not repent in one day. Then
he said, "I shall have to remain sick." He had his own way to look at
things, and as we were unable to convince him otherwise, we returned to
our stopping place.

Shortly after this I was called to see a young woman who had been under
medical treatment by the Protestant ministers for four months. Her
name was Maui. She had been reduced to a mere skeleton, and was unable
to stand alone. When I came, she said she had heard of the doctrine
that I had preached to the people, and knew it was true, "for," said
she, "it is all in the Bible." She was the foremost scholar of the
district, and was highly respected by the ministers as well as by the
whole people. When it became known that I had been called to see her,
it aroused an excitement, and many people came together, insomuch that
the house could not hold them all. As I talked with her on the first
principles of the Gospel, she would say, "Yes, that is so, for it is in
the Bible;" and she said, "I am willing to be baptized now, for I know
that what you tell me is the truth." I asked the consent of her parents
and of her young husband, who readily acceded to her desire. Then I
told them that if they would take her to a suitable place by the creek,
I would meet them there and attend to the baptizing. Accordingly, they
carried her to the creek, some ten or twelve rods away, where I met
them, prepared for the work. There were probably one hundred people
assembled. After singing and prayer, I went into the water and the
friends of the young woman helped her to me, I having to aid in holding
her on her feet while I said the baptismal ceremony. When she came up
out of the water she thanked God, saying, "I am healed of the Lord,"
and walked out of the water and home without assistance, although her
friends offered aid. This excited the people so much that some of the
young woman's particular friends prepared to come into the water of
baptism, but the older ones prevailed on them to wait a while, saying
maybe they would all go together.

When I had changed my clothing and had gone to where the new convert
was, I found her sitting on the bed and praising God, bearing her
testimony that she was healed of the Lord, and that we had the true
Gospel. The baptism of this young woman was the first that I had
administered, she being my first convert. The house where we had
assembled was crowded to overflowing, and when I had confirmed her I
returned to my stopping place, the people following me. There must have
been at least three hundred of them. Several brought bedding and camped
under the trees around the house, while others were preparing a feast
for the occasion, in which they roasted eleven big hogs, and gathered
fish, fruit and vegetables for the roast.

This was too much for the Protestant ministers, for, as I was sitting
at a table expounding the scriptures to the people, in came a lusty
Frenchman in citizen's clothes. He took a seat among the people for a
short time, then slipped away and donned his police uniform, with belt,
sword and pistol; then, with a comrade similarly attired, he reappeared
at the door and asked me if I had a permit from the governor. I told
him I had one at home, but not with me. At that he, in a rather rough
tone of voice, bade me follow them. Without hesitation I did so, and
about a hundred of the people came after us to the mission station,
where I was ushered into the presence of Messrs. Chisholm, Howe
and Davis. All of them were what were called English or Protestant
missionaries. Mr. Howe acted as chief spokesman or prosecutor, while
Mr. Chisholm filled the role of justice, Mr. Davis appearing to be his
assistant. Thus arrayed, they told me that I had been arrested and
brought before them because I had raised a very unusual excitement
among the people, and I could not produce a permit from the government
as a resident on the island. They said I was capable of making much
disturbance among the people, and the decision they had come to was
that if I would not agree to leave the place by 8 a.m. next day I would
be locked up in a dungeon until I did agree to leave.

Of course I consented to depart at the appointed time, thinking I
could get my permit and return in a few days. Then they told me I
was at liberty, but they did not release me until they had scored
me unmercifully with their tongues for belonging to such a set of
impostors as "Old Joe Smith and the Mormons" were. Said Mr. Chisholm,
"You are a fine young man, capable of doing much good if you had not
been deceived by that impostor, Old Joe Smith." They told me to cease
my preaching and deceiving the people, and that I had better go home.
At that I pocketed their insults and left them. Many of the people
followed me to my stopping place, some of them shouting triumphantly
for the young Mormon missionary, and calling shame on the English

A house full of people had assembled, and we sat up till a late hour
that night talking on the principles of the Gospel. Early next morning
our boat was filled with the family and provisions, and we sailed at 8
o'clock. I put on a fisherman's suit and took the helm, facing outward
from the shore. I did not have any particular object in view at the
time in doing this, yet it seemed to serve a purpose, for we had sailed
but a few miles when we saw two mounted gen d' armes come out of the
woods to the sandy beach, where they stopped and watched our boat till
they seemed satisfied there was no missionary on board, and passed on.
Then it occurred to us that if I had not been in the unintentional
disguise they would have stopped our boat and arrested me, for they
were well armed, and could have reached us easily with their firearms.
As we afterwards learned, they passed on to where we had come from
and made a thorough search for me, going through houses, turning up
the beds, and scouring the coffee groves and every place the supposed
Mormon missionary could have hidden. Then they and the Protestant
missionaries called a meeting of the people and thoroughly warned them
against the Mormons, and especially against young Iatobo (James), as
they called me. At this mass meeting Mr. Baff, one of the oldest of the
English missionaries, appeared with the others I have mentioned.

There was another incident that seemed to be very providential, though
disagreeable at the time. The wind died away to a perfect calm, and
when we came to an opening in the outlying coral reef, we thought that
by going out through the opening we might catch a breeze, and could
hoist the sail and make better headway; so we steered for the open
sea. There we found that we had to row all day before we could get
back within the reef. Thus we were carried so far from the land that
passers-by could not discern who we were, and we were kept from the gen
d' armes till sundown. Then we landed away from the thoroughfare, in
heavy timber. In that way we escaped our enemies, for next morning we
were off and out in the open sea soon after sunrise. We rowed all day
and till 11 o'clock p.m., then landed in an obscure place, and were up
and off again by sunrise, putting out to sea and keeping there till we
reached the western passage to the harbor of Papeete. There we went
ashore near a large American tile establishment's wholesale and retail
department. Just in front of this lay a large American warship. The
water was very deep, so that the vessel was moored to the shore, the
gangway resting upon the street, where a great many people had gathered.

As soon as we landed I stepped into the retail department referred to,
on some little errand. In a couple of minutes or so I was confronted by
the Rev. Mr. Howe, who has been mentioned before. He was a fine-looking
English gentleman of thirty-five or forty years of age. He came up and
shook hands with me, saying, "Mr. Brown, are you aware that the gen
d' armes are in search of you? You must have been in hiding somewhere.
They have searched Papara for you, and now are searching this town, and
there is great excitement over your actions. You had better be cautious
what you are about." I could not understand at first what he meant, so
I asked him what I had done to create such a great excitement as to
have the police hunting for me. I said I had not been in hiding at all,
had not thought of such a thing. He replied, "Why, sir, you have gone
and plunged a young lady head and ears into the cold water, and we have
had her under medical treatment for four months, and expected her to
die. Now you have endangered her life by plunging her into cold water.
She is one of the most talented and smartest women of this island. We
have taken great pains to educate her, and she is widely known and
respected by everyone who knows her."

"Well," said I, "what harm have I done? She was healed of her sickness,
as she and her mother testified to me before I left, and every person
who was present can bear witness of the same."

"Ah, well," said he, "you have such a fierce countenance and expressive
voice as to excite a person under the most excruciating pain until
they would not realize they had any suffering at all. She may relapse
and die, then you will have grave responsibilities to meet for your
unwarranted act." He continued talking, turning to intimidation and
abusive language until he said it was a great pity that one of my
natural endowments lacked in educational attainments, for if I had
been taught in Greek or Latin I would have understood that baptism was
_baptiso_ in Latin, and meant merely the application of water, and not
to plunge people head and ears in the shameful and ridiculous manner
that he said I had done.

By this time we were talking so very loud as to attract the attention
of all around. Finally Mr. Howe said, "Do you teach the people that
baptism is essential to the salvation of man or the soul?" I told him
I did. "Then," said he, "you teach a lie, and I will follow you up and
tell the people that you are a liar and teach false doctrine." As my
calling as a missionary would not admit of a violent retaliation, I
merely said to him that in my country that would be very ungentlemanly
language for one minister to use towards another, but I supposed it was
some of the Greek and Latin that he had been learned in. Then I turned
away from him.

My action brought a tremendous cheer from the Americans on board the
warship, and from all who understood the conversation. The people
assembled hurrahed for the Mormon boy. At that my antagonist turned
very red in the face. Some of the natives ran up to him, pointing their
fingers at him, and shouting, "Look how red his nose is! The Mormon boy
has whipped him!" They rushed around me to shake hands, and seemed as
if they would carry me on their shoulders. It should be understood that
we talked partly in English and partly in Tahitian, so that all could
understand in a general way what we said, for we had grown very earnest
if not heated in our discussion.

Soon after this I went up through the town and there learned from
several people that there had been much excitement over my having
baptized the sick young lady, and that the police had searched the
place over for me. I realized then that if it had not been for the
calm weather we had had at sea we would have got into town just at
the height of the excitement, and I would have been locked in prison.
So, thanks for the calm, although when we were in it we wished for
wind that we might make better headway; but that delay gave time for
reflection, and for the news of the young lady's convalescence to reach
Papeete, so that I could pass on my way without further insult.


THERE, IN 1844.

WE reached our home at Huaua on the 20th of March, and found all well.
On the 23rd I baptized Tereino and Maioa, and on the 24th Brother Dunn
baptized two other persons besides Brother Hamatua and two of his
children. Then I sailed for Papara, after providing myself with the
permit that I lacked on our previous visit. We stopped at Taunua the
first night, the 25th, having had to row all the way.

On the 26th we reached Papara, where the people acted very coolly
towards us. There was one friend, however, who dared invite us in and
provide us with food and lodging. On inquiry, we learned that the young
lady who had been ill and was healed at her baptism was sound and well,
and had been so from the time she was baptized. We also learned that
Messrs. Howe, Chisholm, Baff and Davis had called the people together
after the baptism, inquired of them where I was, had the town searched
for me, and had sought diligently to learn if I had spoken against them
or against the French government; but they failed to learn anything of
this kind on which to base an accusation against me and had to content
themselves by telling the people all the foul slanders they had heard
against the Mormons and Joseph Smith, and by warning the people against
us, saying that if they took us in or bade us Godspeed they would
not be permitted to partake of the sacrament in their church, and if
they went to hear us preach they would be excommunicated. They sent a
delegation to the young lady whom I had baptized, to see if she had
been healed, and through being intimidated she said no. Her relatives
had quarreled over the matter, some being in favor of her saying that
she was not, while others said that she was healed. The report that the
delegation made to their masters, however, was that she said she had
not been healed; when I went to see her, she ran out to meet me, and
told me that she had not been sick one day since she had been baptized.

By such means as those I have named, the ministers sought to turn the
people against us, and strongly forbade them to show us any favors
whatever; and when the natives could come secretly and talk with us
they would explain, "Now, if we come openly and investigate your
doctrine and are not satisfied with it, then we will be turned out
of society. For that reason we dare not receive you or come and talk
openly with you. Our hearts are good towards you, but we are watched by
the police, so that we dare not be friendly with you where we can be

As soon as the ministers learned that we had returned, they called
another meeting, at which they seemed to take delight in abusing and
vilifying the Mormons in general and me in particular. When the meeting
was over, they called two pretty young women, and privately told them
to dress themselves as nicely as they could and perfume themselves and
make themselves as attractive as possible, then to take their Bibles
and hymn books and get into conversation with the Mormon missionary,
Iatobo (James). They were to be very sociable and friendly to me.
They had been told also that they would learn that the Mormons were
licentious deceivers, and that my actions would show that I was a
licentious rascal and would lead them astray. Orders were also given
them that when they had proved this they were to return and report to
the ministers. I came into possession of this information regarding the
scheme through the spirit of discernment, and by the confession of the
parties themselves.

The young ladies came as instructed, and the moment they entered the
door and I inhaled the perfumes I had the discernment of their mission
and the instructions they were under from their ministers. Nevertheless
they were welcomed in and took seats just in front of and close to the
writer, on a mat. In the blandest and most pleasant manner they began
to make scripture inquiries, accepting every answer as final, and
assenting to all I had to say. They became more and more sociable and
bold, until at length one of them raised on her knees, and placing her
open Bible upon the writer's knee, at the same time looked him squarely
in the face with her most pleasant smile. He at once moved his chair
back, and said to them, "You have not come here with the object that
you profess to come with, but your mission is a deceptive one, and you
have been sent here by your ministers to try to deceive me, thinking to
lead me into lewd and wicked practices that I am a stranger to. Now,
if you wish anything of that kind you must return to your masters who
sent you, and tell them that if they wish you to be accommodated in
that way, they will have to do it themselves, for Mormon Elders are not
guilty of such practices, though they have proofs that the ministers
are. And I exhort you to be ashamed and to repent of your sins, and be
baptized for their remission, and you will know that what I have told
you is true."

At this rebuke, they both confessed openly that every word I had said
was true, and that they had been sent for no other purpose than the one
I have stated. As they had come straight from the minister's house,
they wondered how the writer could tell them so directly what their
ministers had ordered them to do, and how he came to read their mission
so accurately. They said, "_No te varua tera_" (that is of the Spirit);
for no one else could have told him so correctly. At that they took
their leave, and I heard no more of them or their mission.

The ministers called another meeting on March 29th. I attended that,
and after service asked permission to speak a few moments. This being
granted by Mr. Davis, I merely gave notice that I was a minister of
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, there on a mission
to teach the true Gospel, and if any wished to hear me I was at their
service, if they would permit. There was no response, so a hymn was
sung, and the people dispersed. At night a few came to hear me, but
seemed to be under such restraint that there was no pleasure in talking
to them.

We spent several days at the place without any success, owing to the
great prejudice of the people, and the unwarranted hatred of their
ministers. Then we left for Papeete, starting on April 2nd, and
arriving at our destination at daylight on the 3rd. Having had to row
all the way, we were very tired, so stopped to get some needed rest.
In the evening we baptized one person, Maua. On the 6th we attended
meeting with about twenty of the Tuamotu Saints, then the boat and the
others of the party went home while I tarried till the next day, going
home by land to Hapape, where I found a boat bound direct for Huaua, so
I took passage on it, and was wafted there speedily.

It was on April 19th that I started for Otumaro. On the 21st we got to
that place, where I stayed while the others of the party made a visit
to Papara. On their return I joined them and proceeded to Papeete,
where I left the boat again and walked the remainder of the journey.
The next day the rest of the party came up by sea; and on the 29th we
baptized three more persons.

While at Otumaro, some Matia brethren came from Hitia after a
missionary or two. Matia is a small island about ninety miles north
of Tahiti. Brother Dunn, being very tired of Huaua, concluded that
he would go with them, they taking his trunk and bedding on their
shoulders and marching off, apparently in triumph. They insisted that
I should go with them as well, but having been left in charge of the
mission on Tahiti, I did not feel at liberty to leave, as Brother Pratt
had told me to remain there until the new schooner should arrive.
Therefore I turned alone to my missionary labors. On the 29th I
baptized Tuane; and at Huaua on May 4th I baptized Tafatua and Tafai,
who had been baptized by Brother Pratt; they confessed that they had
been led astray, but desired to return to the true fold. The same day I
administered the sacrament to twenty-one souls.

Just at dark on May 12th, 1851, we heard a gun fired at sea. We
hastened to the beach, and, sure enough, it was our long-looked-for
brethren on their new schooner, which was named the Ravai (Fisher.)
Brother John Hawkins having joined us, he and Hamatua went off in a
canoe to get the news. They found all well. Next day we joined them in
the harbor of Papeete, and remained with them on board the schooner and
wrote letters.

On the 15th Brothers Pratt, John Layton, Hawkins and the wives of the
last two, as well as some of the native brethren, sailed in a whaleboat
for Huaua, while we stopped at Hapape and took a nap, and at 2 o'clock
a.m. started back, reaching our destination at daylight on the 16th.
We rested on the 17th, and on the 18th, in council, Elders Thomas
Whitaker, Julian Moses and two native brethren were appointed to
labor as missionaries on Tahiti; Elders John Hawkins, Alviras Hanks,
Simeon A. Dunn and James S. Brown were appointed to labor among the
inhabitants of the Tuamotu group of islands.

On May 19th, Brothers Pratt, Layton and Hawkins set out for Papeete,
and at 3 p.m. Brothers T. Whitaker and Pohe, with their families,
started for Pueu in a boat belonging to some of their relatives. On
the 21st, the schooner--the new one built at Tubuoi, and commanded by
Benjamin F. Grouard--called with the brethren who went down the day
before on board. She was bound for Anaa, two hundred and ten miles
east, or nearly so. When they got opposite Huaua, Captain Grouard came
ashore and said they desired me to accompany them, as they intended to
call by Tubuoi before returning to Tahiti.

In fifteen or twenty minutes I was ready, and we soon boarded the
little vessel. She was thirty-five or forty tons burden, had poor
accommodations on board, and was insufficiently supplied with
provisions. We started, but the wind being contrary, we soon had to
change our course, so that on the 24th we sighted Riroa, and on the
25th we touched at Uratua and got some cocoanuts. In consequence of
the strong current there, we could not make much headway, but in
trying to beat around it we sighted Anutua. On the next tack we came
to Aunua, where we went ashore and found a small branch of the Church.
The Saints were very kind to us, showing every favor they could, and
pressing us to allow one of our number to remain with them. But it was
not considered proper to grant the request, so we held two meetings and
preached to them, giving them all the cheer and comfort that we could,
and then left. They seemed to appreciate our visit and counsel as only
Latter-day Saints can.

Again we sailed for Anaa, but the strong wind and waves prevailed
against us, so that we were driven so far from our course that we
sighted Faraua on May 31st, and on June 1st we encountered a very
heavy storm, commencing at 5:30 and continuing till 11 p.m. when it
seemed to abate a little. At 7 p.m. all sails had been taken in save
the foresail, which was close-reefed, and as the vessel was beyond our
control, our best seamen being willing to admit that they could do
nothing for us, the helm was lashed down, and all hands went below.
The hatch was securely fastened down, leaving only two of our best and
bravest men lashed on deck with slack rope. Everyone seemed to realize
our peril, and that we must rely alone on the Almighty to save us from
destruction. There was land all around, and the wind and currents
were so strong that it was impossible, with the means at our command,
to direct the course of our little Fisher. I must leave the friendly
reader to draw his own conclusions as to the condition we were in, for
I have not the ability to describe it. Suffice it to say that through
the mercies of the Lord we were spared to find ourselves perfectly
landlocked by three islands, namely, Anutua, Apatai and Aunua. Again
getting control of the vessel, we put into the harbor at Apatai, that
being considered the safest place. There we found some Church members,
and were treated very kindly. We remained there until the 6th, holding
meetings and preaching to the people.

Apatai is one of the islands of poison fish, and we felt the effects of
these slightly before we left. We had a fair wind for Anaa on the 6th,
when we started, but it soon died away and we were left to drift with
a very strong current. On the 7th we found ourselves drifted down by
the side of Anutua. Having some natives of that island on board they
were sent ashore. Jonathan Crosby went with them, and returned with the
boat. From thence we had a pleasant voyage to Anutua. There we went
ashore and preached to the people. Brothers Grouard's and Hawkins'
wives also landed.

We left them on the 9th. and sailed for Tubuoi. Having a fair and
strong wind, we were wafted to Matia, where we left some passengers
belonging to that island. We also took in a small supply of provisions,
as our store was very scanty. Then we continued towards Tubuoi, having
a favorable wind till we got within eighty miles of our destination.
Then a strong headwind forced us to change our course, so that we put
into a small island called Loivivi. This was on the 17th. The island
does not exceed four miles in length and two in width; there were three
hundred and eighty-three people living on it. They had the wildest and
fiercest look of any that we had met on our cruise, yet they behaved
very well to us. On the 18th we sailed again for Tubuoi, and on the
20th we cast anchor at that island, which lies between the twenty-third
and twenty-fourth parallels, south latitude. It is only twelve or
fifteen miles in length, and from a distance resembles the tops of
mountains in a plain. Its inhabitants numbered four hundred, all told.

It was on this island that the Gospel was first preached in this
dispensation, in the islands of the Pacific Ocean. This preaching was
by Elder Addison Pratt, July 12, 1844. He was accompanied by Elders
Noah Rogers and B. F. Grouard, they having been sent by the Prophet
Joseph Smith, from Nauvoo, Hancock County, Illinois, U.S.A., in the
year 1843. Knowlton Hanks was one of the missionaries who left Nauvoo,
but he died on the voyage from Boston to Tubuoi, after the vessel had
rounded Cape Horn.



WHEN we landed on Tubuoi on May 20th, we found the people feeling well.
They were greatly pleased to see us, and we rejoiced to meet with and
preach to them. We traveled from village to village preaching, and
visited the people from house to house, being received everywhere in
the most friendly manner.

On July 1st and 2nd we attended to correspondence, and on the 3rd
everything was in readiness and we sailed with a cargo of cattle for
Tahiti. Elder A. Hanks and the writer were bound for the Tuamotu group
of islands. On the 6th, after a pleasant voyage, with the exception of
seasickness, we landed at Papeete, Tahiti, all well.

Our captain said that he would only remain in harbor a day or two,
then would sail for Anaa. As I desired to visit the brethren at Huaua,
fifteen miles up the coast, I started at 4 p.m., afoot and alone, and
reached my destination the same evening. I was surprised when the whole
family, men, women and children, leaped from their beds and embraced
me, and wept for joy. Some refreshments were provided, and we then
turned in for the remainder of the night.

I stayed there until the 8th, and met with Elders Julian Moses and T.
Whitaker, who accompanied me to Papeete, where we arrived at 1 o'clock
p.m., and found the vessel being prepared to sail. Brother Hanks was
detained in getting his permit until it was too late to get out of the
passage till the 9th, then the wind came straight into the passage, so
that we had to drop anchor till late in the afternoon. We managed to
get clear that night, but the wind being contrary we did not lose sight
of land till the 10th; then we had a perfect calm for two days. Late in
the evening of the 12th we got a light breeze. This day was the first
time in my life that I could say that I was well at sea. Never before
that evening had I gone below and enjoyed a meal of victuals; but from
that time on I could take my rations with the rest except in a storm.

On July 13th we sighted and passed Metia, and sighted Tikahau; the
14th Matea was in view, and we passed along close to the weather end
of Riroa; the 18th we were near Uratua. There two boats were let down,
one to pull up through the lagoon of the island, twenty miles long, to
where Brother Hawkins lived, and the other to fish. About 11 p.m. we
neared the village when the natives came and conducted us to the place.
They spread some broiled fish and cocoanuts before us; and of course we
were thankful to get that, for there was no other food on the island.
This was all that some of the inhabitants ever had to eat on their own
island, save an occasional pig or a chicken. After the refreshments we
turned in for the night.

Next morning we were feasted as best the people could do. We preached
to them, then sailed away; for our schooner was waiting for us. We
next headed for Riroa, as we could not get a wind for Anaa, which we
had been trying to reach from the time we left Tahiti. On the 21st we
passed through a school of whales to the harbor. Again we encountered
a strong current coming out of the passage, and a headwind. Then, in
trying to beat up into the harbor, our vessel failed to stay, and we
were driven into the coral rock, which stood up in the water like
tree-tops. Crash we went, and the vessel began to quiver and jar. All
hands and the cook had an awful scare, and for a few moments it looked
as though our vessel would be a total wreck, and we be all spilled into
the raging billows, among crags and rocks. But thanks to the Lord, this
was averted. Three of us succeeded in gaining the shore in safety, and
the vessel put to sea for the night, coming in on the 22nd to anchor.

On shore we were feasted on broiled fish, cocoanuts and roast pig. The
people seemed overjoyed at our visit. We called a meeting and preached
to them, encouraging them in their religious duties.

It was while we were on this island that we heard from Brothers Dunn
and Crosby, who were well. We also heard from Manahuni and party, who
left Tahiti at the same time that we departed on our first cruise. They
sailed for Anaa, in a small, open boat called the _Anaura_, the same that
Brother Grouard made many trips in from island to island, and in which
he had many narrow escapes. But Manahuni and his party of six brethren
and sisters had a much severer experience than any former party. Their
boat capsized in a heavy storm, the same that we had been caught in on
our former cruise. They lost everything save their lives, and these
were preserved only by clinging to the keel of the boat for three days
and three nights. Finally the boat righted itself, and they drifted to
the island of Tikahau, but not till the last rag of clothing had been
torn from their bodies by sharks, and much of the skin--all of the
cuticle--had sloughed off through their being in the salt water and
hot sun so long. But their lives were spared to them, and they were
nourished by the kind people of Tikahau, until they were able to reach
the island of their destination, Anaa.

A fair wind for Anaa came on July 26th, so we left for that place.
At dawn on the 28th we sighted the island, and at 10 o'clock a.m. we
landed at Tuuhora. As we neared the shore I was seated in the stern of
the boat, when a man came bounding through the water and passed all our
party till he came to me. Then he reached out his hand, which had in it
five pearls wrapped in a little rag, and said, "Here! I have seen you
before. You have come to be our president, for you have been shown to
me in a dream. Welcome, welcome to our land!" Just then he turned his
back for the writer to get on, and in this way took me to the shore,
where the people soon prepared a feast of welcome, as is their custom
when their friends come to see them. No feast, no welcome.

The feasting over, with Brothers Hanks and Hawkins I visited the
branches, the three of us traveling together, preaching and baptizing
the people, who came forward in large numbers to receive the ordinance.
August 5, 1851, Brother Hanks left for Taroa, and Brother Hawkins
for Arutua. I had been appointed to preside on Anaa, and commenced
my labors in that duty. On the 6th I was instructed, by Elder B. F.
Grouard, to travel and preach, to reorganize the branches wherever
it was necessary, and to organize and teach schools as I might find
it prudent; in fact, to do all things pertaining to my calling as a
missionary. Thus I started out alone.

One of the first things I found after I began my labors was that there
were four Catholic priests on the island, building four stone churches;
that they had about thirty natives employed on them, and that no others
would attend their religious services; it was claimed that there were
about nine hundred persons belonging to the Mormon Church, most of them
being members in good standing. There were no natives there belonging
to the Catholic church.

On one occasion soon after my arrival, I was being questioned, in a
conversation, about California and the gold fields, and also about my
birthplace and the city of my residence. I took a sheet of paper and
sketched a rough outline of the gold fields. One of the natives who
apparently had been greatly interested in the narrative, asked for the
sketch. It being given to him, he went off and soon returned with a
large sheet of drawing paper, on which he requested me to draw a map,
on a larger scale, showing my birthplace, where Salt Lake City was
from there, and the location of the gold fields. Then the question was
asked, how I came to be in California at so early a date. I told them
I went there in the Mormon Battalion, in the service of the United
States, during the war with Mexico. Little did I think I was mapping
out the outlines of a foundation for a wicked and false charge to be
preferred against me by the Catholic priest. Neither did I have the
remotest idea that my rude sketch would be used in crediting me with
being a civil engineer of no mean ability, nor that my having been in
the army of the United States would entitle me to the dignity of a
highly educated military graduate from some United States army school;
nor was I aware that my walk and carriage were that of an officer in
the military establishment of my government. Yet the sequel will show
that all this was the case.



ON August 7th I was solicited by the chief men of Putuhara to assist
them in organizing a school. Indeed, the whole people were anxious to
have me aid them in this, therefore I took hold as requested. They had
no school at that time, and were looking for a white Elder to start
one, as they themselves had but a vague idea of the proper order or
rules to govern such an organization. The writer did not have the
remotest idea that he would meet with the antagonism of the Catholic
priests in this matter, as there was a unanimous desire for him among
the people, who had rejected the offer of the priest stationed at that
place. However, I soon heard that the priest was displeased because the
people had rejected him and supported us by sending their children to
our school, and by feasting me and showing me marked preference in many
ways. Our house was crowded to its full capacity every evening, while
the priest sat alone in his studio.

On August 12th we had thirty-six students; by the 14th the school had
increased to sixty-five. The priest came to the door, looked in, then
turned short on his heel, and went away without speaking, yet showing
his displeasure in his manner. Soon he got a house to run opposition
in school work, but he failed to get pupils. Then he became very cross
and snarly at every one he came in contact with; at least, so said the

In company with some of my friends, I went to Otapipi on August 15th.
We met a man with a letter from the head Catholic priest, for me. It
was in the Tahitian language, and began as follows: "Iarran Iatobo, i
te Atua" (James, how do you do in the Lord?) and continued, translated
into English: "This is what I have to say to you: Do not trouble our
schools, and we will not trouble yours. If you do so again, I will send
for the governor's aide de camp, and we will have you tried before
him. You must not trouble us any more." It closed with "Tidar Paran
Iaraan ae, Tavara" (That is all the talk. Good bye to you.) As we had
not knowingly interfered with their schools we did not make any reply,
but continued our journey to Otapipi, and held a prayer meeting at
that place at 3 o'clock p.m. While there I saw a priest and his two
attendants coming across the lake. They landed, and came straight to
the house where we had put up. The priest walked in without hesitation,
and politely offered to shake hands. We met him as politely, and took
his hand. Then he asked if we had received a letter from the priest
below. We informed him that we had. "Well," said he, "we don't want
you to interfere with our schools, and we will not with yours." At
the same time he threatened me with the governor's authority, if we
did not "walk straight." After some discourse, I asked him what kind
of a God he worshiped. He said a spirit without body or parts; but he
failed to find any Scripture to support his belief, and the people
who had gathered around laughed at him, making him feel very much out
of temper. On August 16th he called a few children together and spoke
briefly to them in Latin or some language that I did not understand.
Then he departed for another village.

Soon after this, the people prepared a feast in honor of our visit.
The food consisted of roasted fish and fowl. Many little presents were
also brought, such as could be made from the fiber of the cocoanut
husk, mats, shells, etc. When all was laid before us, the spokesman
said, in substance, in the Tahitian language: "James, as a token of
our great love and respect for you, the servant of God, we, the people
of Otapipi, Anaa, have collected of all the varieties of food that our
land affords, and a few articles of use. Here is a pig, there is a
fish, and fowl, and here are cocoanuts. This is meat and drink for us,
and all that is produced in our land. We wish you to accept it from all
of us as your true friends, and we wish you to eat and be full. Be our
president and teacher in the Gospel, and a teacher of our children; for
we are glad to have you come to our land as a father and guide. Our
hearts are full of gladness that God has sent you to our land, that we
may be taught to love the true and living God, for we have always been
in the dark, and did not know there was a true and living God to love
and worship. Now we have no more to say. Amen."

The foregoing is a fair representation of the addresses made to us on
occasions such as that was. That night the house could not hold all
who came to search the Scriptures and sing sacred hymns. Three persons
offered themselves for baptism, and were put off till Sunday, the 17th,
when I preached on faith, repentance, and baptism for the remission of
sins. At the afternoon services, I exhorted the people to be faithful,
told them the conditions on which they could be admitted into the
Church, and said that all who felt to accept those conditions might be
accommodated that evening, as I had three candidates to wait on at the
close of the services.

When the meeting was over, the whole congregation gathered down by the
seaside. We sang a hymn and prayed, and I went down into the water and
remained there until I had baptized thirty-five souls. When these were
confirmed, the people remained together to a late hour before they
would disperse. On August 18th, agreeable to the request of the people
and with the approval of the rulers of the village, I opened a school,
classified the students, and chose teachers for each class, then laid
down rules to govern them. The feasting was continued from day to day
to August 24th. On Sunday, the 25th, I preached from the second chapter
of the Acts of the Apostles. At the close of the meeting three persons
presented themselves for baptism, and we attended to the ordinance.
One of those baptized was Mahia, who, forty years later, presided over
the entire mission, being, at the latter time, totally blind. Besides
the three mentioned, sixteen others were baptized, and all of them

On the 26th, the school was continued in good order. That day the news
came that the Catholic priest had taken charge of our meeting house
at Temarari, although the house was built and owned by the Latter-day
Saints. The priest claimed the right to control it in the interest of
his church; and the Saints requested me to come and help them regain
possession of the house. With two of the natives, I started on the
27th, quite a company, male and female, following us. When we arrived
a feast was prepared; the people gave us a perfect ovation. We held
meeting that evening, the 28th, and I preached from the twelfth chapter
of Luke.

At the close of the meeting the bell was rung for school. In came the
priest to take charge, but as he had no right to the hour, and the
people did not want him to teach, but desired me to take charge, I told
them that when they settled the dispute about the house, if it was
desired by the whole people and their officers that I should proceed, I
would do so. They arranged to settle the matter in a day or two.

On the 30th I received a letter from Elder T. W. Whitaker, of Tahiti,
and I wrote to the white Elders. The same evening I had a call from two
of the Catholic priests, whose names were Tavara and Harara. Evidently
they were very much disturbed in their feelings, as the people were
still feasting with and showing every respect possible to me, while
they passed the priests by with a cold nod.

Sunday morning, August 31st, I preached on the attributes of God. At
the close of our meeting the priests rang the bell and came marching
in with their lamps and images, demanding possession of the house. We
told them we had business matters to attend to, and were not ready to
give up the place. Nevertheless, they piled their things on the table
in front of me as I sat writing. They had as much as two or three men
could carry. They crowded their things right into my way, so I asked
what they meant by such conduct, and who had invited them there before
we got through with our business. They replied that it was their time
for meeting, and demanded the house, claiming it was a public building,
and that they had a right to hold their meetings in it. I said that
it had been built and was owned by the Mormon people, and that we did
not propose to be disturbed by the intruders until we had finished our
business. At that they flew into a rage and threatened us with the law,
as they had done before, but finally they cooled down, carried their
things out, and waited until we were through and had left. Then they
held their services. I do not think they had over six persons in their
congregation. They dispersed quietly, and at 10 o'clock a.m. we held
meeting again. I preached on faith and baptism. One hundred and thirty
people attended our meeting. In the evening I baptized and confirmed
twenty-five persons.

On Monday, September 1st, I took up school by request of the people
and their peace officers. On the 4th we had thirty students. On the
5th, two native Elders went with me to Tuuhora. We received a call from
a priest; also held a prayer meeting, but few people attended it. On
Sunday we held three meetings, administered the sacrament, baptized
nineteen souls, and confirmed them. On Monday, the 8th, we organized
a school with fifty students, and with the peace officers selected a
teacher for each class. The Catholic priest called on me and forbade
me changing his hours of school. As I had not attempted to interfere
with him or his schools, I came to the conclusion that he was seeking
an occasion against me under the law, as they had threatened me with
before. I knew they were jealous, for where I stopped the people would
throng around me and the priests were left alone.

When the older people had gone through some morning exercises that
day, desiring on my part to prevent further trouble with the priest, I
sent him word that as soon as we got through with the younger classes
he could occupy the building, but not before, as he had threatened
to do. Just as the messenger returned, the priest rang the bell most
spitefully, and then came rushing into the school room, his eyes
flashing angrily. Our school was greatly disturbed. I advanced, and
asked him civilly if he wished to attend our school. He said yes,
evidently misunderstanding me. I pointed him to a seat, saying we were
much pleased to have our school increase, and would he please give
me his name. I must confess that I felt a little mischievous, and to
retaliate slightly for their constant meddling in our affairs. He saw
the point, flew into a rage, and sent for the landholders of the place
to have me put out of the house. The landholders came, and told him
they did not wish to have me disturbed, as they had sent for me to come
and take up a school; that the people preferred me to him; that he was
the one who had made the disturbance, not me, and that he must give way
and cease his interference.

Not satisfied with that decision, the priest sent for the governor
and chief men of the town, who came, and with them a large crowd of
citizens. When the governor had heard both sides, he confirmed the
decision of the landholders, and called for a vote of the people to say
which of us should teach school. The vote was unanimous against the
priest. Then the governor told him that as the people did not want him
he must leave the house at once, and not disturb me or my school any
more, for none of the people had any use for him, as he had witnessed;
they had all voted against him, and all wanted Iatobo.

At this, the priest took up his books and slates, and after accusing me
of everything that was mean and low, and calling the Mormon people the
vilest names, he withdrew. Later, he wrote a letter to Governor Bonard,
of Tahiti, and circulated it for signatures. We learned afterwards
that he got thirty signers. I believe that eleven were French traders,
and the other nineteen were natives whom the traders had in their
employment. We also learned, at the cost of inquiry, that the priest's
letter contained the charges upon which I was subsequently arrested.
But at that time we continued our school in peace.

On September 12th I was feasted in royal style by non-members of the
Church. They called on one of the native Elders to deliver the address,
which he did in a most eloquent manner. I responded in the usual way,
and accepted their kind offering. The cook disposed of the spread to
the great satisfaction of the whole assembly, on such occasions all
present being directly interested in the distribution of the eatables.

About this time the writer had a remarkable dream. He dreamed that God
appeared, and told him to go to a field of his earthly father's, and
replant where the birds and squirrels had destroyed the grain. Then his
father appeared and showed him where to begin the labor. When he had
been furnished with seed and a hoe, he went to work, and the replanting
was soon done. Then he was shown a field of wheat that, in the spring
of the year, was about eight inches high. The ground was quite wet,
and the grain was growing nicely. While he was gazing on the bright
prospects, a herd of cattle came in, breaking down the fence. They
seemed to trample everything they came to. Then he heard a voice say,
"Drive them out;" and as he attempted to do so, a fiery red bull made
a charge toward him so that it seemed impossible for him to escape
being gored to death; but as the animal lowered its head to make the
deadly thrust, the writer seized it by both horns and bore its head
to the earth. The animal was coming with such force that it turned a
somersault, both horns being sunk to the head in the earth, and the
bull's neck being broken. Then a black and white bull, very peculiarly
marked, came up in the same fierce manner, only to meet with a similar
fate. At that the herd cleared the field, but not until much damage had
been done.

When he awoke, the writer felt that there was more trouble ahead for
him, but he did not know from what source it would come. Of the priests
who had given so much annoyance, one had fiery red hair, and another
was white and dark spotted, or freckle-faced.



ON September 19th, Nihiru, a native brother, came with his canoe and
gave the writer a free passage to a village on the east end of the
island, called Tematahoa. We arrived in the evening and found a great
deal of sickness among the people. Just at dark on the 20th, a brother
named Pasai came from Temaraia with a sick man to have him anointed and
administered to. I attended to that and he was healed.

On the 21st, Sunday, I preached on the signs, gifts of healing, etc.
There were about two hundred and fifty persons in the congregation. In
the evening I baptized and confirmed eighteen persons. Monday morning I
opened school with twenty-eight pupils; next day there were forty-one.

On the following day, September 24th, a man and his wife came to me
with a child three and a half months old. They said that a short
time before their child had been taken sick in the night, and they
had talked to each other of having it anointed. At this, the child
spoke, and stated in plain words, like an adult, that it would not
be anointed. It said many words as plainly as any person could do.
From that time it grew worse to the day it was brought to me to be
administered to. The parents said they did not belong to the Church,
but desired to be baptized, for they believed the Gospel as the Mormon
Elders taught it. Their names were Tauahi and Taui. We baptized them
and one other person, then administered to the child, which lay limp
as if dead. We could not tell whether it was dead or alive. However,
when we took our hands off its head, it opened its eyes and looked as
if nothing was the matter. Then it nursed as any healthy child might.
There were many people gathered there, and all were astonished at what
had taken place. Finally the babe went to sleep as if nothing had been
wrong with it, and the whole company rejoiced at the great change that
had come. They said that truly it was the Almighty who had healed the
child through His servant.

I turned and gave my attention to some writing that was necessary, and
the crowd became unusually quiet. In a few minutes a strong rushing or
movement among the people attracted my attention, and as I turned to
face the people there appeared to be an ashy paleness over the faces
of the whole assembly. All seemed terrified and speechless. At that
moment an aged couple, a man and his wife, entered the door and went
straightway to where the sleeping infant lay. They bowed down over it
and kissed it, and then went through some ancient heathen ceremony that
I could not understand. Then they walked direct to their canoes and
sailed across the lake to where they had come from. From that moment
the relatives of the child began to mourn and say that it would die;
and sure enough, inside of an hour it was a corpse. The parents were
asked why they had lost faith and given up the child. They said the old
people who had kissed the babe had power with evil spirits, and had
afflicted it in the first place; that their power had been broken by
the Priesthood, and they could not reunite it with the babe until they
could come and touch it; and when they had done that, the parents and
all concerned lost faith, and could not resist the influence that came
with the old pair of witches, as we think they would be called by some
civilized people. I must confess it was a strange thing to me. I had
never before witnessed anything so strange.

It was on the 27th of September that the child died. On the same day a
Scotchman came and brought me a few sea biscuits. I was very thankful
to him for the favor, for bread was such a rarity in that part of the
country as to give a man some satisfaction in seeing it, even though
he might not have the pleasure of eating it. Thanks to the benevolent
Scotchman. I regret that I have forgotten his name. The next day I
preached on the resurrection of the dead, and baptized and confirmed
eighteen persons into the Church.

Before leaving my reminiscences of this place, I will narrate two
incidents of some note to me. In one, we were called to see a man
who had been confined to his room the greater part of a year with a
swelling in his hip and thigh. On examination it was found that his
whole hip and thigh were filled with a thick and very noxious pus.
No one in the village dared to lance it, but when I told him his
condition he insisted that I should cut it whether it killed or cured.
I hesitated to comply with his wish until all his immediate relatives
had been consulted, and had given their assent. Otherwise, the
superstition of the people was so great that if in the operation the
patient succumbed the operator would have the gravest responsibility to
meet. But when all concerned had given sanction, and each had assumed
his or her responsibility, I performed the operation most successfully,
the wound discharging at least six pints of the most offensive matter,
and the patient being greatly relieved from his terrible suffering. The
operation was performed with a penknife, for in that country at that
time the only surgical instrument ever used for cutting was a shark's
tooth or a scale from a broken bottle.

In this case the operation seemed to the people very little less than
a miracle. The news thereof spread all over the island, insomuch that
the operator acquired much practice in similar cases, such as swollen
jaws, boils, carbuncles, etc., and though he performed many operations,
he never received one cent as pay. If the people had toothache, he was
called on and performed the operation of extraction, in some instances
using a rusty nail, or any kind of an old iron, in place of a hammer
or mallet, to punch the tooth out. His best dentist tool was his rifle
bullet mold, using both ends for forceps. He never failed to give
satisfaction, for there were neither dentists nor surgeons in that part
of the world.

The other incident, and a very singular one, which occurred at that
place was this: On one occasion seven very rough characters came into
our sacrament meeting. Some of them were said to be from an adjacent
island. They came, took seats at the back of the hall, and behaved
very rudely, making loud remarks and threats about the young ladies of
the choir. When they partook of the sacrament they said that when the
meeting was out they would administer ihe sacrament in a very different
manner to that in which the Mormons did it. Sure enough, at the close
of the meeting they pushed along through the congregation till they
came to the young ladies, and made wicked propositions to them, which
were very quickly spurned. Then they passed on, still making their
boasts of what they would do at nightfall. But they failed in carrying
out their threats, for in a very short time three of them were stricken
down with violent cramps, so terrible that all three were corpses
before the next morning. The other four had strong symptoms of the same
complaint, and inside of a week they were dead also. The people said it
was the power of evil spirits that had been sent to destroy them, that
they might not be permitted to carry out their wicked purposes. The
whole people were so excited that they shot off guns, blew horns, built
large fires, prayed and shouted in wild confusion, to drive away the
evil spirits; and many people were smitten with sickness and some died.

On the 29th of September we sailed for Putuhara. The wind blew a gale,
and we had a fearful passage, but succeeded in reaching our destination
in safety, and in time for evening meeting, when we preached to a large
congregation. October 1st, I baptized and confirmed three persons. On
the same day the roughest people of the island assembled to feast and
dance. It seemed that to quarrel and fight was the principal number
on their program, and they appeared to indulge in everything that
was wicked. They killed pigs, chickens and dogs, roasted all alike,
and ate them with great relish. They also ran through the streets
with torchlights and firebrands, and the confusion was so great and
turbulent that it looked more like an actual battle of savages than a
dance. All ages participated, from the child of tender years up to the
old grayheaded man and woman, all of them two-thirds naked, and some of
the children entirely nude.

I had seen Indians in their warpaint and dances, but this excelled in
confused savage deeds anything I ever beheld before. It seemed that
they never knew what order meant. Yet, strange to say, at the first
tap of the church bell they reminded me of a turkey gobbler which,
when in full strut, seeing a dog run at him, drops his feathers so
suddenly that he does not look like the same bird. So it was with that
savage-looking lot. At the first tap of the bell they became as silent
as if dead, then retreated to their hiding places, and not another yell
was heard from any of them, so great was their reverence for religious
services. At one time, though, it did seem that they could not be
silenced short of bloodshed, for there were two opposing parties mixed
up together.

When the confusion was straightened out and peace apparently restored,
the parties separated, only to come together again later, with more
roast pigs, chickens and dogs. Then they ate of their feast until full,
when some unwise person of one party made an insulting remark about the
other party. Quickly the participants in the feast formed for battle,
armed with clubs and stones. At that moment one man from each party
ran for the ormatua (missionary). I went out and stepped up on to a
large chest, at the same time calling aloud for peace. Strange as it
may seem, although their clubs and stones were raised to strike fatal
blows, and the women and children were shrieking and crying, the moment
the natives recognized me among them they dropped their ugly weapons
and listened, and the spokesman of each party came forward to plead his
particular case. I caught the spirit of the situation and addressed
them briefly on the subject of peace, order and good will to all, and
exhorted them to leave their grievances to two or more of their cooler
and wiser men to settle. This they agreed to do; then they joined
forces and made an attack on the writer, not for blood, but of love and
respect. Men and women seized on to him, embracing him and shaking his
hands until he was nearly smothered and almost borne to the ground.

I would not have it understood that this great reverence and respect
was shown to me for any superiority that I would claim; but it was a
man's calling as a minister of the Gospel which they held sacred before
the Lord. So long as he did not betray their confidence, the minister's
influence was almost unbounded, and with all their faults the natives
had many most estimable qualities.

From this great excitement, and the accounts that he had heard from
time to time, the writer was led to inquire into the manner of warfare,
the traditions and the superstitions, as also into the causes for and
cannibalism of the islanders. Their wars usually had an origin in very
trivial causes, such as family quarrels, thefts, politics and disputes
over land or over fishing waters. At one time the islands had a dense
population, and the strong would go on the warpath for conquest, one
village or island being pitted against another. Their ariis (kings),
as they call them--I think it would be more proper to designate them as
chiefs, as the Indians do--attain power through brave and heroic acts,
and the great havoc they make among their adversaries. Their weapons
consisted chiefly of spears made from fish bone and hard wood, stones
and slings, clubs, and a rudely fashioned glove made by winding bark
and shark's teeth together in such a way as to have the teeth stand out
thickly on the inside of the hand. With this latter weapon they would
grapple with and tear out each other's entrails. They had rude drums
and some kind of whistles for musical instruments.

In war, the two parties approach each other, dancing, boasting and
threatening, until within a few feet of each other, when they leap
at and onto one another in a hand-to-hand conflict, fighting as wild
beasts, to a finish. Their mothers, sisters, daughters and aunts
prepare themselves with strong baskets made from the cocoanut leaf, and
swing these on their backs; then (each with a sharp rock or a seashell
in her hand) they enter the battlefield in rear of their nearest male
relative. When the latter has dispatched his man or disabled him so
that the women can finish him, he engages another adversary, while the
woman beheads his victim, puts the head into her basket, swings it on
her back, and continues to follow her male relative to victory or death.

When a war is over, and the victorious party returns home, each family
has a place for the captured heads, where they are put in rows, being
set some six or eight inches below the surface of the ground, and easy
of access. This was done so that when any question arose as to the
bravest family, or the member of a family to take the first place as
dictator or chief, the mori, or place of skulls may be visited and a
tally made, when the one with the highest number of skulls or heads is
given the coveted position. In these contests they also count the heads
taken by their ancestors, as far back as they can find them, no matter
how many generations they cover. Thus the family with the most skulls
gets the place sought, which is generally that of chief or king.

When a battle is ended, the victors pass over the ground, often
bleeding from their wounds, and starved and well nigh exhausted from
being without food. The islanders have a tradition that whatever gives
them pain they should eat. So if they are wounded by a sharp stone
which by any means has fastened itself into a man's flesh, or by a
sliver, they extract and eat it, saying, "You are my enemy, you never
shall hurt me more." Thus they seem to satisfy the vicious spirit of
revenge. This strange proceeding may have had something to do with the
origin of cannibalism. Still, I am rather inclined to think it had its
beginning in starvation, and to that was added the spirit of revenge.
Thus the appetite was cultivated until, with very slight pretext,
human life became sacrificed to a depraved and vicious appetite. These
practices and others seemed to be justified in their savage minds,
insomuch that they did not scruple in gathering up the slain and
feeding upon them.

His curiosity having been awakened in searching into heathen life, the
writer made inquiries at the most authentic sources of information for
further light on this custom. In one case he found an old lady who was
the last of the fifth generation back. Her intellect seemed bright,
although she could not open her eyes except with her fingers. When
questioned in regard to cannibalism, she lifted her eyelids and said,
"I have followed my fathers, brothers, husband and sons in battle, and
we ate our victims as we would eat pork or fish." When asked if she
had eaten white man's flesh, she replied, "Yes; we captured some white
men on a small schooner and ate them." The next inquiry was whether
there was any difference in the taste of the white man's and of the
native's flesh. "Yes," said she; "the white man's flesh is hard, tough
and salty, while the flesh of the native is sweet and tender." Then
came the question as to what part of the human body was preferable to
eat. She said the heel and the hand of a fourteen year-old girl were
the sweetest morsels of flesh she ever ate. Being asked if she did not
have feelings of remorse when they had committed actions like these,
her answer was: "Not a bit, it was in our days of heathendom; but now,
since the Gospel has come to us, we have no desire for anything of that
kind, though formerly we took pleasure in our practices, for our minds
were very dark."



LEAVING the revolting subject of cannibalism, I will return to our
missionary labors. Peace and quiet having been restored, the people
assembled in Putuhara on October 5th for conference, Elder James S.
Brown presiding. After reports of the various branches had been made,
as presiding Elder I reported the condition of the Church generally on
the island, made a few opening remarks, and called on the different
Elders to speak. One after another these referred to themselves and the
people generally having a desire for me to write home to the Church
authorities, to get a missionary to each village. All spoke of their
love for the Gospel, and their wish to have it preached on all the
adjacent islands. There was such enthusiasm among the people that it
seemed unwise to hold a lengthy conference. The zeal of the people
there was such that it well nigh drove them into a frenzy; so after
the business of the conference had been done, I addressed them on the
object of a house of worship, that it was a place in which to worship
the true and living God, and not a dancehouse or a place to have
lawsuits, quarreling, fighting, and worshiping of idols in, as they had
been doing. A motion was made and carried that our building be kept
exclusively for a house of worship. Thus everything else was forbidden
by the landholders. At the close of the conference eight persons were
baptized and confirmed.

The schools of the different villages met on October 6th, to read and
spell in friendly contest. October 7th, the school in Putuhara had
increased to one hundred pupils. That day the rougher element of the
place assembled again in their wild dancing; they sold their jewelry
for fat dogs and pigs. On the 11th, the non-Mormon women of the place
prepared a great feast for us, and turned it over with pride, saying,
"Here is a token of our love for you, and we desire you to accept it
and remain in our town and teach us of the Lord."

We preached on Sunday, the 12th, and on that day also baptized and
confirmed five persons. Next day, school was opened with one hundred
pupils. A great deal of sickness was reported in the town. On the 14th,
school was continued in good order, and we departed in a small canoe
for Otapipi, where we found the people pleased to see us. The school
there was intact. Next day I wrote to Elder Alviras Hanks that I had
heard of his having been cast away on another island.

Sunday, October 19th, I preached, and baptized two persons. On the
24th I went to Temaraia, where I met with more opposition from the
Catholic priest, with regard to school matters, and learned that he had
bribed Governor Telidha, also Parai, the mouthpiece of the town, as
he was called. Having them for his backing, the priest was very bold
and defiant, and no doubt thought that by keeping up an excitement the
Catholics would gain some support for the foul and false charges which
he had made against me. By the means I have named, the priest got a
decision against us, and for the first time we were compelled to yield,
but much against the people's desires. Still, all settled down from
high excitement to peace and quiet, till October 28th, when the French
frigate _Durance_ made its appearance northwest of the island.

The warship had on board the governor's aide de camp, who landed at
Tuuhora with his guards. On the 29th he crossed the lagoon to Temaraia,
where we were. At 8 p.m., while I was engaged in expounding the
scriptures to a few of the natives, in came a French gen d' arme and a
native officer. They presented me with a warrant, which, being in the
French language, I could not read. The officers stood for a minute or
so, when I gave them to understand that I was unable to decipher the
document. Thereupon the native officer said that it meant that I was
to appear before the governor's aide de camp, down at the stockade, at
9 o'clock, and if I did not come willingly, they had orders to drag me
there like a dog. They being armed with swords and pistols, I thought
it wisest to go willingly, especially as there was no chance to do
otherwise. The officers were quite haughty, yet somewhat nervous, for
they had been told that I was prepared to make a strong resistance. Of
course, I accompanied them readily and without a word, and was soon
ushered into the august presence of the governor's aide. I found him
seated in a small room, in which were four or five other officers and
a few soldiers armed with muskets and cutlasses. When I entered, the
interpreter arose, read a long list of charges, and asked for my plea.
I answered not guilty to each accusation.

It will be remembered by the reader that when I first landed on the
island I sketched, at the request of some of the natives, a rough
outline of the United States, pointing out my birthplace, also Salt
Lake City, and where gold had been discovered in California. From that
time the Catholic priests had conspired to entrap me, to break my
influence, and to close my schools.

The charges against me began, as near as I now remember them, and
with memory refreshed from brief notes taken at the time, by an
assertion that I had subverted the laws of the French protectorate;
had interfered with government schools; had hoisted the American flag;
had enrolled some three thousand men for the American government, to
be controlled by the Mormon Church; had armed the men; was a civil
engineer of no mean ability; had ordered the people to demolish some
of the towns, and rebuild with better fortifications; that my walk
and general movements indicated military ability, and undoubtedly I
had been brought up at a military school in the United States; that
I had mapped out plans of defense; had great power with the native
people, and was capable of doing much mischief in the country. These,
and many other charges of a frivolous nature, were in the list, all of
them without the slightest foundation in fact, except that I had much
influence with the people.

I stated that I proposed to prove myself innocent of every one of the
accusations made. To this the officer made answer that they had the
most positive proof to establish the charges, which were very serious.
He gave me two hours to settle my business, and see friends, when I
would have to return to the stockade and stay where the governor's aide
thought proper. The next day I was to be taken on board the man-of-war.
and go as a prisoner to Tahiti, for trial.

Upon receiving this information, I claimed the right to be tried where
I was accused of having committed the offense, and where I had the
witnesses in my behalf. "No;" said the officer, "your crime is too
great to be tried before any less authority than the governor." I asked
to have witnesses summoned, and the officer inquired if I had any way
of taking them to Tahiti. He knew, of course, that I was helpless in
that regard, and being so answered, told his men to take me in charge.
Accordingly, they marched me to where the arrest had been made.

I gathered up some of my effects, bade goodbye to my friends, and
returned to the stockade. There I was ordered to a seat under an open
shed till daylight, being guarded by two lustful police, who took
unwarranted liberty with some lewd females, behaving most shamefully
in the prisoner's presence. My friends brought bedding for me and
attempted to spread it, but were rudely driven away by the guards, who
took turns at pacing in front of me, while the other interested himself
with the females spoken of, who were void of shame.

That night I was mortified and disgusted as I never had been before
with peace officers. At last the long night wore past, and dawn
appeared. Then close to my right, in a stockade, I saw about fifteen
native cannibals, who could barely hide their nakedness. They had been
captured by French soldiers on some island in the north, and were
accused of killing, upon different occasions, the white crews of three
small schooners. They were also charged with eating their victims, as
well as robbing and scuttling the schooners.

I took my last glance at those fierce-looking monsters just at sunrise
on October 30th, when I was called before the aide de camp to sign my
name four times in English, and four times in the Tahitian language.
Then I was ordered into a filthy old boat that was used to collect oil.
The boat's crew were rough and dirty, and scoffed and jeered at me and
otherwise made the sail across the lagoon to Tuuhora as disagreeable as
they could.

When we landed at Tuuhora it was among about one hundred and fifty
French marines. They, too, must jeer, and satisfy their curiosity by
gathering around and impertinently staring me in the face, jabbering
together and laughing, while the natives met me with sympathy expressed
in their countenances. Two soldiers kept close to me, however, and did
not allow much opportunity for conversation with anyone. I was served
with a bowl of fish broth and a small piece of bread, and when this
was eaten I was ordered to the landing, to one of the boats from the
warship. By this time there were probably five hundred native people
gathered. These followed to the boat, declaring that where their
missionary went they would go, too, and saying, "It is the Catholic
priests who have done this, with their lies."

The news of the arrest had been heralded during the night to every
village, and boats and canoes were coming in, laden with sympathizing
friends, not only Church members, but full as many that did not belong
to the Church. They said, "E mea hama teie" (a shameful thing, this).
The excitement became so general that the guard was increased to about
twenty armed men, and the prisoner was urged to hurry into the boat.
As the water was from shoe-top to knee-deep between the shore and the
boat, I attempted to take off my shoes and turn my pants up, but I was
forbidden to stop, and was crowded into the vessel. When I reached
it, it was full of sympathizing men, women and children, weeping and
accusing the Catholic priests. Fully five hundred people lined the
shore, some with rolls of bedding, while others were laden down with
baskets of cocoanuts.

When the guards arrived with their prisoner, the boat was ordered
cleared, and as the native people were rather slow to obey the command,
the soldiers pricked them with their cutlasses and bayonets. I was
urged into the boat, which was soon manned, and the boatmen soon pulled
from the shore, while many scores of people wept aloud, shrieking out
my native name, "Iatobo, Iatobo; no te Catholic te i a ne peapea"
(James, James, of the Catholics this trouble). They waved handkerchiefs
as long as we could see them.

As the boat was going out to the ship, it ran into what seemed to us to
be hundreds or even thousands of whales. For a while the sea seemed to
be black with them. At the same time the boatmen took in their oars and
became pale and still as death, lest the monsters should take fright
and knock us into eternity and the boat into splinters. The oarsmen
were better aware of the danger than I was, and were ashy pale. Indeed,
it may have been the same with me for aught I know, for I did not see
my own face as I saw theirs. But I had been where cattle stampeded,
where the wild buffalo was rampant, or wild mustangs were charging by
thousands on the plains by night and by day; had been surrounded by
packs of fierce and hungry wolves; had been in the brush when grizzly
bear were thick around, or when rattlesnake and deadly viper hissed
in my ears; and I had been chased by savage Indians; still I do not
remember a time when I felt that every hair on my head was trying
to let on end more than I did for a few moments as these great sea
monsters glided past so near that we could almost put our hands on
their long, black backs, while they shot by swiftly, spouting the briny
spray almost in our faces. The thought of the loss of the boat did not
concern me so much as it did to think how easy it was for a whale, at
one stroke of its monster tail, to make of us convenient shark's food.
While in this truly great peril, minutes seemed hours to us, and when
it passed we breathed freely again, and soon gained the great warship
that was lying off shore, for there was no harbor or anchorage at that

I was next required to try a new experiment, to me, that of climbing
a rope ladder up the side of a ship as the latter rolled and pitched
in the waves. After a struggle I succeeded in reaching the deck in
safety, there to be surrounded by the marines as though I had been a
wild beast. When their curiosity had been satisfied, I was ordered down
on to what was called Swaltses' battery, the gun deck. There I found
that as I walked my head came in uncomfortable contact with the beams
of the upper deck, and at each one I had to duck my head. This greatly
amused the marines, and they got a mopstick, a broomstick, or any kind
of a stick. Some would press the sticks on the sides of their noses,
while others held theirs back of them, poking their sticks up so as to
hit the beams above. Then they would form into a squad and march by and
duck heads with me, while some were giving commands which I supposed
meant, "Left, duck, left duck"--at any rate, that was the action. Then
they would shout and laugh.

Soon meal time came, and I was conducted into the hold of the ship,
and there assigned to a small, filthy room. There was an old chair in
it, and a bunk without bedding. The room swarmed with cockroaches,
which seemed to be thicker than flies. I was served with a bowl of fish
broth, and one small loaf of bread and a bottle of wine, for the day's
rations. Then an officer called me to follow him to the upper deck and
to the bow of the ship, where he made me understand, by unmistakable
motions, that I was to use the chains for a water closet. In disgust I
remembered that I was among Frenchmen, the most stylish, the proudest,
and the most fashionable people in the world. I was an American,
"honored" with two uniformed and armed French attendants, who never
left me alone only when I was in my room, following me everywhere,
allowing none to obstruct my path, and even being careful to keep me
from falling out through the portholes, as, when I leaned over a big
gun to look out upon the deep, they would take me by the arm, lead me
away, and show me the big hole in the deck, and my room.

By this time the writer began to understand French courtesy, under some
conditions, and to realize his own situation. He asked himself what the
outcome would be, he reviewed every action performed on the island of
Anaa, and could not see wherein he had trenched upon anybody's rights
or done anything against the law. He failed to discover one intentional
or other wrong; so he felt to trust in the Lord, and made himself as
contented as possible, though he found the boards in the berth as hard
as American boards, notwithstanding that they were French lumber.



ON November 3rd, 1851, we set sail for Tahiti, and on the 6th made the
port of Papeete, having had a rough voyage. When the ship anchored, a
police boat came alongside, and the prisoner was ordered to try his
skill at climbing down the rope ladder. He promptly obeyed orders, and
soon found himself locked up in a cobblestone dungeon, six by eight
feet, quite damp, and so dark that not a ray of light penetrated it
anywhere. For his bed he had a board dressed out like a washboard. He
had a good mattress and pillows and blankets of his own, but they were
locked up in an adjoining room and he was denied the use of them. What
the object was he never learned, unless it was done to punish him. He
remained in that condition fourteen hours out of the twenty-four, and
was fed on bread and water that was very filthy. The water was kept
in a small keg in a corner of his cell, and was thick with a green,
moss-like substance. In an opposite corner was a different kind of
French water closet to that he had on shipboard--a keg which was never
emptied during the prisoner's stay there. Unlike the water keg, it was
replenished often. As to the result of such conditions in that hot
climate, I leave it to the reader to conjecture; for I had enough of it
without dwelling further on the subject.

On November 7th I wrote letters to Elders Thomas Whitaker and Julian
Moses, the brethren who had been assigned to labor on Tahiti. On the
8th, one Mr. Lampher, proprietor of the American hotel in Papeete,
sent me a prime dinner. It was received with thanks, and was duly

On the 10th I was called out by the turnkey; immediately an armed
soldier took position on either side of me, while a sergeant stepped
directly in front, then moved three steps in advance, and gave the
command to forward march. In this order we passed two lines of
sentinels and went to the governor's mansion, where we met another
officer, who commanded a halt, and I was directed to be seated for
thirty minutes. Then I was called into the governor's office, where I
was confronted by his excellency and seven officers. They were in full
uniform and had sidearms. Each had in his hands what appeared to be
notes. I was at once ordered to be seated, and the very profligate son
of a Protestant professor acted as interpreter, read the long list of
charges spoken of, and asked for my plea thereto. I answered not guilty.

Then the trial began. They placed on the witness stand a native named
Tania, who had been admitted recently to the Catholic church. He
had been posted in what he should say, but seemingly had some pangs
of conscience, for when he stood up he turned his eyes toward me,
then to the court, and back to me, and answered the questions in
a hesitating way, his confusion being so great that the governer,
through the interpreter, ordered me not to look at the witness, as
he said my countenance was so fierce and vivid as to baffle the most
substantial witness. I was not permitted to ask a question, not even to
cross-examine the witness.

The next testimony came from a man who had been brought to Papeete
a prisoner, but who had been discharged without the formality of a
hearing, evidently that they might have him for a witness against
me. Both he and the preceding witness were put on the stand without
being sworn. Not a single spectator was permitted to be present, so I
concluded that if it was a court at all that was trying me it was a
military court martial.

When I saw how onesidedly things were going, I arose and asked the
court what right it had to try me with closed doors, not even allowing
me the opportunity to defend myself. I told them I was an American
citizen, and claimed my rights as such under existing treaties and
international laws. I quoted law that I had never read or heard
mentioned, for it was given to me of the Lord in the hour that I had
need. I can never forget the expression on the faces of those officers.
Not one of them would look me in the eye. As I spoke, every face was
turned downward. At the conclusion of my remarks I was marched back to
the filthy cell, without another word being said.

About this time Mr. W. H. Kelly, the American consul, called on the
governor, and on making inquiries about me and my alleged crime and
arrest, was told that I was a very dangerous man, a man learned in
treaties and international laws. "Why," said the governor to Mr. Kelly,
"he can quote more of them than my officers, and he has great power
and influence with the native people. He is undoubtedly a military
man of no mean ability. For these reasons he cannot be permitted to
take up his residence as a minister under the French protectorate." I
learned the foregoing from Mr. W. H. Kelly, who told me that he had to
sign bonds to the amount of fifty thousand francs, and that sum would
be forfeited if I did not leave the protectorate by the first vessel
sailing from port, or if I was known to preach another discourse under
the French government.

That evening Elder T. Whitaker called at my cell with two pies for me.
We were allowed to speak but few words to each other. When the prison
door had been locked again, I wrote to Elder B. F. Grouard, who, as I
learned from Brother Whitaker, had arrived in port. November 11th, my
old friend Pahe called with a basket of fruit, which was admitted, but
the giver was permitted to say scarcely a word.

I had a call on the 12th from Elders S. A. Dunn and Julian Moses. Their
short visit gave me much satisfaction, as they brought news from home.
On the 13th Elder Grouard and some other friends called with some
food, but they were not admitted, the food being passed in to me by a

On November 14th I was called before the governor's aide de camp, who
said, "I suppose you have heard the decision of the governor and his
council?" I told him no. He then said, "They have decided that you must
leave the protectorate by the first vessel sailing from port, or you
will be detained until you are willing to comply with that decision."
I asked if they intended to send me away without a fair trial. He said
yes; that the governor had it in his power to send out anyone that
raised a disturbance in the country. I asked him to show that I had
raised a disturbance. He said, "It does not need proof, for the Mormon
missionaries have caused the government a great deal of trouble, and
the decision is that you must go by the first vessel leaving port, or
remain in prison till you agree to do so." With this, I was satisfied
that there was no redress for the wrong that was being done me.

I was then marched back to the cell, where I received a letter from W.
H. Kelly, the American consul. It read as follows:


November 14, 1851.

"_Mr. James Brown_:

"DEAR SIR:--Having been informed, through the governor of the
protectorate, that you are a state prisoner in Papeete, charged with
the crime of rebellion and attempting to subvert the laws of the
protectorate established on the island of Anaa, I am bound to furnish
the honorable secretary of state of the United States with all charges
and punishments to which the citizens of the United States may render
themselves amenable, under the laws of the countries in which they may

"You will therefore oblige me by furnishing me with an unbiased
and clear statement of the facts connected with your arrest and
imprisonment. I do not wish to know what has been told to you, or of
what you have heard from others, but simply the truth of the whole

"This letter will be forwarded to his excellency, Governor Bonard, who
will, through the proper channel, have it forwarded to you.

"I remain, sir, your obedient servant,


"United States Consul."

Elder B. F. Grouard kindly came down and wrote my reply to Mr. Kelly.
This was on November 15th. The same day I was called out into the yard,
when a sergeant and two soldiers took me in charge and marched me along
a back alley to the rear of the consul's office. Then the sergeant
stepped forward and notified Mr. Kelly that they had brought their
prisoner to him, and without further ceremony the officers disappeared
by the same alley by which they came.

Mr. Kelly welcomed me to his office, and congratulated me on regaining
my liberty. Then he told me of his visit to Governor Bonard, the
conversation they had had, and about his signing the bonds for my
release. He said, "Mr. Brown, the French authorities are afraid of you.
They say that you are a highly educated man, and that you are capable
of doing much mischief in the country. Now you have your liberty in and
about my office, but you must not go off alone in any by-place, for
the French are a very excitable people, and they will watch every move
that you make, and would shoot you if they could find you alone in the
brush or where they could do it without being detected. Now, I have
got horses, and will accompany you to any place you may wish to go, to
visit your friends or to settle up what business you may have to do.
But you must not be caught alone, for the French fear that you could
raise an army and cause much trouble. As your friends are in town, you
and they had better have a consultation here in my office, and see what
you can do."

Accordingly, the Elders came into the consul's office, and together
with him said the best thing they thought could be done was that I
should go on board the little schooner _Ravai_, and that they get
it ready for sea as quickly as possible, so as to leave port before
any other vessel did, for if I did not go the fifty thousand francs
would be forfeited. The schooner was the vessel owned by the Saints
of Tubuoi, and commanded by Captain B. F. Grouard; it was bound for a
cruise among the Tuamotu group of islands before going to the island of
Raivavai, four hundred miles southeast of Tahiti, and outside of the
protectorate. It was thought that we could make the cruise intended,
and then go on to Raivavai without any danger of forfeiting the pledge.
Conformably with this conclusion, the vessel was got ready, and on the
17th we sailed from Papeete.



AS we were leaving the Tahitian harbor we encountered a strong
headwind, and beat our way against wind and waves until our little
schooner became somewhat disabled. Provisions began to be scarce, and
everything seemed to be against us. Finally we changed our course,
heading for Tubuoi. When we got within about eighty miles of that
island, our food supply became exhausted; we had not one mouthful on
board, and were in a dead calm for some time. Then a gentle breeze
sprang up and wafted us to port, where we arrived on November 29th.
Before this relief, however, we suffered considerably from lack of food.

I supposed that I had to remain on board the schooner until it was
ready to sail for Raivavai; but when Pitamai Vehene, the queen, heard
that I had been banished she came off in her own canoe and invited
me to go ashore with her, saying, "This is my island, and the French
have no right here. I will be responsible for all the trouble that may
arise." As the brethren and general authorities of the island thought
it was safe to do so, I accepted the invitation, going ashore in the
queen's canoe, and remained on the island till December 8th. Then I
boarded the little schooner again, and we started for Raivavai, where
we landed on the 9th, and found President Pratt in good health.

On December 10th, Elder Pratt sailed away in the schooner, leaving me
to take his place in presiding over the interests of the Church on the
island. Brother Pratt's friends became my friends, and gave me food and
shelter. There were eight Church members on the island; all the rest of
the inhabitants, three hundred and eighty-three in number, opposed us,
many of them being the most savage and rudest I had met--in fact, they
were scarce removed from cannibalism. Some of them did not hesitate
to tell of their experiences in eating human flesh, and that they had
sacrificed infant children to their idols. They showed the coals before
their heathen gods, where they had roasted their babes. Some of them
felt proud to relate these things, saying it was in their heathenish
days, before the Gospel had come to their land, but now they thought it
very bad, and they had no disposition to repeat their evil deeds.

I was shown to the house of Governor Fate, who received me very kindly.
He and his wife had received the Gospel on Anaa, and although he was
the legal heir to the throne, as they called it, through his joining
the Church he had lost much of his influence. But he was a very good
man, rendering me all the assistance in his power, while I visited
from house to house, trying to make the acquaintance of the people. I
went to every home on the island, endeavoring to inform the people on
the Gospel, but they were unwilling to give heed, and treated me with
marked indifference, often passing by and looking as surly as mad bulls.

The island was not to exceed fourteen miles in circumference, its high
and very rugged peaks penetrating the clouds, which nearly always were
hanging over and about. The mountains were so steep as to defy all but
the wild goats, of which there were some hundreds among the cragged
rocks. It was said that the beginning of the existence of these animals
on the island was that a sea captain had turned three or four pairs of
them loose some years before, and they had increased to hundreds.

Having satisfied my curiosity by traveling over and around the island,
visiting the ancient places of worship and seeing the heathen gods and
places of skulls and sacrifice, I again called at every house, trying
to become more friendly and sociable with the people; but the same
stolid feelings still prevailed. I attended their meetings, told them
my business in the land, and asked the privilege of preaching to them.
Part were favorable, and part were not. I baptized a few, and that
caused much excitement.

A council was called to adopt some way by which the islanders could
get rid of Mormonism and the American plant, as they called me. Some
proposed to fasten the "plant" on a log, and tow it out to sea, where
the sharks would eat it, while others suggested burning or making a
roast of me.

At last the matter was carried so far that it was decided that I must
leave the island or be killed. I learned that they had just about
decided on the latter course, so I hastened to go before the council to
try and allay their feelings, if possible, and appease their wrath, but
I found it utterly impossible to reason with them. My presence, instead
of having a conciliatory effect, created the wildest confusion. I was
confronted by a native called Tabate, who was a very stout, heavy set
man, and who exclaimed, "I will slay you!" At that moment my friend,
Governor Fate, stepped between us, and some of the more peaceably
disposed took hold of Tabate, while my friends insisted that I leave
the house to save bloodshed, saying that Tabate was a very desperate
man, but if I left the room they thought the council could restrain
him. Accordingly I withdrew with my friends. The council had a hot time
of it for awhile, but finally the more consistent party prevailed, so
that the matter passed over for the time being. Still, a bad feeling
rankled in their bosoms, and I could hear threats that the more rabid
party was going to have a fat missionary for a roast.

Although this bitterness continued with many of the people, I baptized
some twenty souls, and blessed several infants. I also administered to
the sick, and, as I can now remember, all were healed but one child,
which died of hip disease, it being a mere skeleton when I was called.

Other councils were held to see what could be done to get rid of the
"plant Mormonism, from America," before it spread over the island and
became master. But the friends and relatives of those who belonged to
the Church would oppose any harsh measures, saying, "Wait until our
missionaries of the English church come and we hear what they say."

Now, Elder Pratt had baptized one man who was seventy-five or eighty
years of age. He was one of the first born, and his feet had never been
wet in salt water. His name was Tauteni (thousand), because he had
slain so many people in war, and he could count skulls in his mori or
place of skulls, with the best of them. He was well acquainted with the
taste of human flesh; had been a great high priest of the natives in
their heathenish days, and was supposed to have great influence with
the spirits of men. He had a grand-daughter who was said to be the
heir to the throne. This girl was brought forward by the old man for
baptism. He had reared her, and her parents being willing, I baptized
her. This created great excitement and another council was held, where
feelings ran so high that it was very hard to conciliate our opponents.
But the old man told them that it was his and her father's fault, and
not the missionary's, that she was baptized. The girl, whose name was
Teraa, also declared that it was by her wish and not mine that she
became a member of the Church. This cooled them down a little, but
occasionally local difficulties would arise, and the natives would take
sides and arm themselves for war. One time I heard the shrieks of the
women, and the warwhoops of and commands given among the men.

Although, one day when I was stopping at a village called Tatake, I
had heard that there was going to be a battle fought, such rumors were
so frequent that I did not pay much attention thereto till I heard the
warwhoops and shouts. Then I jumped up, ran out, and beheld thirty to
forty men coming from the upper village, Anatomu. They were armed with
muskets, and were in their war costumes, dancing and going through the
manoeuvres peculiar to the natives just before going into an action.
At the same time another party was approaching from the inland village
of Atibona. These, too, were ready, and with their drums, whistles and
shrieks made quite a showing. Still there were some among them inclined
to conciliation rather than war.

With my friends, I went out and plead with the two parties to be
reconciled, and finally we prevailed so that both bodies of men retired
without fighting, and a few of each party met and shook hands, some of
both parties seeming friendly to us for a time.

For a short time after this we had comparative quiet, yet threats came
about the Mormons, and there was talk of taxing us for the support
of the Protestant church. Our brethren claimed rights in the school
and meeting houses, but were refused these; then they threatened to
burst open the houses, and came to me to get my sanction to do so;
but I could not consent to being a party to such a movement, knowing
that would give the enemy the pretext they wanted, in order to carry
out their threats. My party was not pleased with my position, and
threatened to break in the houses anyway, and assert their rights to
occupancy. I told them that if they did I would disown them; that they
could not be my brethren if they indulged in anything of the kind, as
it was for us to be on the side of peace and defense, and not to be
aggressors. Finally they said they would obey my counsel. Then things
passed along more smoothly for a time.

Soon a schooner came from the island of Ruruta, with about one hundred
passengers on board. They brought the alleged news that all the
American Elders had left Tubuoi, and were going home. These passengers
also seemed to have been well posted in all the old slanders about the
Church, and with many new ones about the Elders. These slanders were
industriously circulated by the new comers, who said that the people
of Tubuoi were glad that the Mormons had left their land. From these
stories, and the persecutions the Saints had endured on the island,
the few Church members grew sorrowful and discouraged. When I went
from Anatomu to Tatake, I found two of the native brethren and two
sisters very sad, and as soon as we met they gave vent to their pent-up
feelings, wept bitterly, and said that I had to leave the island, and
they intended to follow me, no matter where I went. I told them not to
fear, and tried to pacify them as best I could.

At our next appointment for a meeting there were but five out of
thirty attended. This seemed strange, for there always had been a
full attendance; but now everyone was sad and gloomy. The spirit of
mobocracy seemed to thrive on the filthy slanders that had come by
the Ruruta schooner. Meetings were called and threats made. Clouds of
darkness lowered and filled the atmosphere; the spirit of death seemed
to hover around, for the boisterousness of the people had given way to
a sullen, murderous disposition, more to be dreaded than when there was
abundance of noise and threats.

At this time two young Protestant ministers came and made three or four
inflammatory speeches, telling the people that they had admitted a wolf
into the fold, and if they did not get rid of him the ministers would
not call again. "Drive him off, and pluck up that American plant, or
it will overshadow your land, and control you," said they. Thus the
wild and heathenish passion was fanned into a lively flame of renewed
persecution. Yet, strange to say, when the spirit of death seemed to
rest most heavily upon us, the brethren and sisters returned to me with
renewed zeal, and all but two men stood firm thereafter.



ABOUT the 5th of May, 1852, the whole people were called to assemble
at the village of Tatake and prepare a feast, and at the same time to
decide definitely what to do with the Mormon minister and his pipis
(disciples). Everything was excitement. The young braves came armed
with muskets, shouting and yelling, saying they were going to have a
fat roast for tomorrow, while the old councillors, twenty-five or
thirty in number, came with slow, quiet steps and grave countenances,
and filed into the schoolhouse just at dark. Then the people gathered,
loaded down with roast pig, and fruit, fish and poultry. They kindled
fires and began shouting, singing and dancing.

Soon the young braves were dancing around the house that they were in;
for by this time every member of the Church had come to one place.
The mob seemed to be fully enthused with the spirit of murder, as
they shouted, "Tomorrow we will have a fat young missionary for a
roast!" Just then they fired a salute, seemingly under the foundation
or sill of the house--a frame building. Then they commenced to tear
down the post and pole fence that enclosed the premises. This fence,
together with other wood, was piled up in a heap, as people in timbered
countries stack timber to burn it off their land. Then the natives
covered the wood with coral rock, as if they were going to burn a lime
kiln. They kept up a continual howl all the night long, firing their
guns, singing their war songs, and burning their camp-fires.

While this was going on, we held prayer and testimony meeting, never
sleeping a moment the whole night. Many times we could hear the crowd
outside boasting what a fine, fat missionary roast they were going to
have enanahe (tomorrow.)

Daylight came, and the village was all alive with people, as in
America on the Fourth of July, at a barbecue. Soon the feasting began.
The council had been all night in deciding what they would do with
the Mormons and their minister. The provisions at the feast were
apportioned to each village according to its numbers, and subdivided
among the families, so that a full allowance was made for the Mormon
pupu (party). They sent to me the portion of ten men, saying: "Here,
this is for you, Iatobo (James), eat it and get fat for the roast,"
laughing contemptuously as they did so. By this time the whole people
were in high glee, eating, drinking, talking, laughing and jeering, as
if all hands were bent on pleasure only. When the feasting was over,
all became silent, and it seemed as though everybody had gone to sleep.

By 1 o'clock p.m. all were astir again. Two great ruffians came into
my apartment, armed with long clubs. They said they had been sent to
order me before the council, and if I refused to come they were to drag
me there. Everybody seemed to be on the qui vive. As quick as thought,
the promises of President Brigham Young flashed through my mind; also
the promise of Dr. Willard Richards, in which he told me, in the name
of the Lord God of Israel, that though men should seek my life, yet I
should return in safety to the bosom of the Saints, having done good
and honor to myself and the Church and Kingdom of God. He also gave me
instructions what to do; this was when starting on my mission. The next
thought that came to my mind was: Have I forfeited those promises? The
answer that came quickly from the Spirit was no; and this drove away
all fear. Not a doubt was left in my mind.

Without hesitation I arose and walked out to the beach, where the
people had assembled, the Saints following me. We passed by the log
heap to the assemblage, at the head of which stood twelve or fifteen
stout, athletic, young braves, with hair cut close. They were stripped
naked to their breechclouts, and were oiled. They stood with folded
arms, and certainly seemed formidable, although they were without
weapons, for they had a fierce and savage look about them that must be
seen to be realized in its effect.

As we came near, the man Tabate stepped out from the crowd and said,
"All the Britons stand to the right hand with the sheep, and all the
Mormons stand to the left hand where the goats are." Everyone responded
to the order except two men from the Mormon party, who drew off to
themselves and were neutral. At that, one faithful Mormon man named
Rivae and his wife with an eight months old babe in her arms, stepped
forward, well knowing what the sentence was to be. This brave brother
said, "If you burn this man," pointing to the writer, "you burn me
first." His heroic wife stepped forward, holding her babe at arm's
length, and shouted, "I am a Mormon, and this baby is a Mormon, for
'nits make lice,' and you will have to burn all of us, or Mormonism
will grow again." I had told the people the story of the massacre at
Haun's Mill, Missouri, in which some of the mob shot the children who
had crept for safety under the bellows in the blacksmith shop, the
murderers saying, as they butchered the innocents, "Nits will make
lice"--Mormons in that instance.

Rivae and his wife was ordered to stand back, while as a prisoner I was
called to take a position in the space between the two parties. As I
obeyed the command, I was confronted by Tabate, the spokesman or judge,
who had been the chief promoter of all the trouble from the beginning.
Said he: "Iatobo, you have caused the people of our land to sin by
having them to travel more than a Sabbath day's journey on the Sabbath.
You have also taught the people that God is a material God, and that is
not lawful to teach in our land." To this I answered, "Show me where
the teaching is wrong from the Bible." At the same time I opened the
Bible. A strong and determined voice told me to shut the book, and put
it up, for that was the law of God, and the decision of the landholders
and authorities was that I should be burned to death, and thus they
would rid the land of Mormonism.

Pointing to the left and rear of the prisoner, to the log heap, which
was then at the zenith of its burning, with haughty demeanor and in an
exulting voice, Tabate said, "Look there at that fire. It is made to
consume the flesh off of your bones." In that moment the Spirit of the
Lord rested mightily upon me, and I felt as though I could run through
a troop and leap over a wall. "In the name of Israel's God," I said,
"I defy ten of your best men, yea, the host of you, for I serve that
God who delivered Daniel from the den of lions, and the three Hebrew
children from the fiery furnace!"

[Image: Fire Prepared to Roast the Missionary--Sentenced to Death.]

Dear reader, it is impossible for me to describe the power, the cool
resignation, the unshaken confidence, and the might that overshadowed
my soul and body, that thrilled through every fibre of my existence.
For there was absolutely not one particle of fear or tremor in my
whole being. But I did feel thankful for that great and marvelous
deliverance, because in the very moment that I defied the host the
spirit of division rested upon the judge who had passed the sentence,
his counselors, and the executioners, insomuch that the counselors
faced the executioners, and they grappled with each other in a sharp
tussle. From that ensued a fight, until the whole people were mixed up
in it.

Even two of our old tottering Mormons, Tautene and Hauty, came in with
their clubs, and were so enraged that they actually champed their
teeth together till the froth filled the corners of their mouths, as
I have seen it with mad dogs. Both of them had been great warriors
in their time, and could boast of having eaten human flesh, but at
this time they were so old and feeble that I took each of them by
the arms and forced them from the fight into the house, where I had
ordered all the Mormons to go. I told them to stay in the house or I
would excommunicate them from the Church. As they seemed to be almost
ungovernable, I gave Fute, a priest and a stout man, a club, and told
him to keep them in the house if he had to knock them down to do it,
while I went back to the battleground, picked up my Bible and hat, and
returned to find my party reconciled to their fate, and feeling more
like rejoicing than fighting. In an effort to free himself from her
clinging embrace Hauty had struck his wife with a club. This was before
I had got hold of him. She was trying to keep him out of the melee. The
woman was very lame for weeks after receiving the blow.

During all this time our enemies quarreled and fought with clubs
and stones, pulled hair and screamed. They did not cease fighting
till sundown. Then, with many sore heads, and more sore limbs, they
dispersed, and I doubt very much if the majority of them knew what they
had been fighting for. After they left, a feeling of quiet and safety
pervaded the village, especially in and about our residence, such as
we had not before known on the island, and for weeks everything was
strangely peaceful. People who once seemed surly and defiant, now had
a tame and subdued expression in their countenances, and appeared to
prefer passing by unnoticed rather than otherwise.

Some two months later, I was traveling alone in the timber, and at a
short turn in the road I chanced to meet one of the old counselors who
decided that I should be burned. We were close together before we saw
each other. At sight of me he turned and ran as hard as he could, and
I, without any particular object in view, gave chase and ran him down.
I seized him by the neck, and asked why he ran from me and why he was
afraid of me. Said he: "Your God is a God of power, and I was afraid
to meet His servant." I inquired how he knew that my God was a God of
power, and why they had not burned me when they had decided to do so.
He answered: "At the moment that you defied us there was a brilliant
light, or pillar of fire, bore down close over your head. It was as
bright as the sun. We remembered reading in the Bible about Elijah
calling fire down from heaven so that it consumed the captains and
their fifties, and we thought that you had prayed to your God of power,
and that He had sent that fire to burn us and our people if we harmed
you. The young men did not see the light. They were going to burn you,
and we tried to stop them. So we got into a fight. Now we all know that
you are a true servant of God, and we do not like to meet you, out of

From what I was able to learn, that feeling was shared by the whole
community, and I was treated with great respect ever afterwards. I
felt freer and safer when alone than ever before. Indeed, there never
was another council meeting called to devise a way to get rid of the
Mormons from that island, while I remained there. But for all that, the
islanders did not want to learn the Gospel. Yet ever afterward, when
they feasted I was always remembered with a very liberal portion of
the very best they had. I do not remember baptizing another soul there
after that event. There I remained, and part of the time I fished, also
hunted the wild chickens that abounded in the mountains--fowls of the
common Dominique variety, which had grown wild in the fastnesses of the
hills, and could fly equal to the sagehen or prairie chicken.



WHEN I had spent seven months alone on the island of Raivavai, without
any news from the outer world or perhaps it would be more proper to
say inner world--for this island and Rapia are as near out of the
world as any portion of it can be--I began to wonder when I could hear
some tidings of the brethren on the other islands. I had not had an
opportunity to leave Raivavai in all the time that I had been there;
nor did I have the slightest idea when it would be possible for me
to return to the land of my nativity, for the natives told me that
within their memory there had been seven years at a time when they had
not so much as seen a sail, and it was not infrequent for from one to
three years to pass without a vessel calling. Therefore it will not be
thought strange when I say that the time became very monotonous.

Here is an extract from a letter received just before I did leave the
island; it was from Elder B. F. Grouard, counselor to President Pratt
in the presidency of the mission, and bears date of Papeete, Tahiti,
April 18, 1852:

"DEAR BROTHER JAMES:--I embrace the present opportunity of writing you
a line, perhaps for the last time before leaving for California, though
I hope we may be able to arrange matters so that you will be permitted
to come here and make one of our party across. The governor is now
absent, down at Raiatea, consequently nothing can be done about your
case until he returns. * * * *

"Wednesday, 21st.--Mr. Kelly has sent for you on his own
responsibility. You must be careful and not go on shore on the
protectorate islands, but be sure and come, or rather, he has
authorized me to send for you.

"I have the honor to be, your brother in Christ, and fellow laborer in
the Gospel,                    B. F. GROUARD."

From this it will be seen that I was released from further labors in
that mission. I also was without any means in sight to get away from
the land that had been so fruitful of troubles to me. It is true that
the natives had a schooner of twenty or twenty-five tons burden in
course of construction, but they were so uncertain and tardy in their
movements that there was really no dependence to be placed in anything
of the kind that they undertook. Indeed, it was doubtful whether they
would complete the vessel at all, though six or eight weeks was ample
time in which to finish it. Besides, they were liable to get into a
quarrel that would cause delay for many months. Again, so frail was
the boat that it did not seem that it ever could be safe to go to sea.
Nearly every stave and brace was made from the bark of the buru tree,
and twisted by hand. The anchor was a chunk of wood with old scraps of
iron spiked on to it, and for a chain the same kind of material was
used as for the stays and braces. The galley was only a square box of
two and a half feet, filled with soil and tied down to the deck with a
bark rope; and as to the helm, it had to be held by hand, taking two or
three men to manage it, especially in rough weather. The compass was
no better than a tin plate; in fact, it could not be of any service
whatever--and the sails were almost rotten. But at last the boat was
launched, and leaked so badly that it did not seem possible to make it
of service; but the natives persevered and baled it out, and it was
soaked up until they considered it safe.

This boat being built, it seemed to offer a possible means for me to
see white men's land again. There was no one for me to advise with, the
very men who had planned my destruction being the owners and masters
of the craft. The voyage they anticipated taking was said by them to
be seven hundred miles, to the island of Rapia, and from thence a like
distance to Tahiti, in all fourteen hundred miles. The food and fresh
water supply was also very uncertain. The water had to be carried in
large gourds and cocoanuts. Nor was this all that had to be considered.
In those parts there are dense fogs and rainstorms, for days together,
so that navigation is very hazardous where there is only the sun, moon,
and stars to depend upon, and these obscured.

The reader will perceive the gravity of the situation that confronted
the writer when he came to decide what to do. As the time drew near for
the boat's departure, I retired to a lonely place in the woods, and
there fasted and prayed for three days, fasting all the time and going
to my retreat to pray as often in the three days as I thought proper.
This was done in order to ascertain from the divine Source whether or
not I should take the risk of going on that vessel at that time. The
answer came plain and distinct to my understanding, though not in words
to the natural senses, yet to my entire satisfaction that all would be
well if I went. From that moment I hungered and thirsted, but had not
done so before in all the time that I had fasted.

Accordingly, on September 22, 1852, I engaged passage on the Raivavai
schooner, bound for Rapia. On the 23rd I went aboard, and we sailed
out, but some of the rigging gave way, and we were bound to return for
repairs. On the 24th we tried again, passing out of the harbor with a
light breeze, at 5 o'clock a.m. There were sixty-two souls on board,
all seasick. On the 26th and 27th there was a dead calm. At daylight
on the 28th we found ourselves on the opposite side of the island and
very near it, surrounded by hundreds of great whales. Our navigators
were so confused that they did not know their own island until they
went ashore. Again the rigging gave way, and we had to put into port to
repair it and to replenish our food supply.

On October 4th we sailed once more, and with a strong and fair wind on
the 9th we reached the island of Rapia, which has a high and abrupt
coast with a good harbor, but a very narrow passage thereto, in which
we were hailed by a fisherman who inquired about the white man on
board. When the crew told him it was a Mormon Elder, he hastened to the
shore, ran to the village and told the people that a Mormon Elder was
on the schooner. The people had never seen a Mormon, but had heard the
most ridiculous stories about us. They became excited, and frightened
as well, for they had heard that Mormons had cloven feet and shells
on their backs, and were some kind of mongrel between man and beast.
They also had been told that the Mormons were so lustful that it was
very difficult for the females to escape from them. This being the
only information the people had about the Latter-day Saints, it was
no wonder that the men armed themselves with muskets and fish spears,
and came to the landing or lay in ambush, the females keeping at a
respectful distance, while the more brave and fearless ventured to come
on board, inspect the "animal," and forbid him to set his foot on shore
on pain of death. Strange as this statement of affairs may appear, it
is nevertheless true.

At length a number of the people came on board and spied around as if
to discover the peculiar features of a Mormon Elder, and they, with
my friends, thought that possibly it was safe for me to go ashore;
accordingly I went in the first canoe. As we neared the landing, six or
seven men, some with muskets and some with fishing spears, rose up out
of the brush and tall grass, and peeked and pried, as they afterwards
said, to discern the cloven foot. As they could not discover the
deformities which they had expected to find, they said, "Why, he looks
like any other white man or minister; we do not want to kill him."
There were others who, however, acted very surly, and would not speak
nor shake hands, but told my friends that I must leave their island or
I would be killed. Finally we were permitted to go up to the village,
where the people all ran together to see the stranger. None dared
invite him into their houses, so he took his seat out on a log, while
they feasted. His friends joined with the feasting parties, thinking
it would be better for him if they were sociable with the people and
acquainted them with the supposed monster's customs and habits, as also
with what he had been teaching the people.

Two weeks before we landed, the inhabitants of this village had had a
battle with the people of another village across the island, and some
of both parties had been killed, while others were yet suffering from
their wounds. This, I suppose, had something to do with the spirit of
murder and bloodshed that hung so thickly around the place. When the
people finished feasting, one old man brought me some food on a banana
leaf, and then slipped away as if he did not wish anybody to see him.
To me it seemed a case of root hog, or die, or at least it was to eat
or starve, so the kind offer was thankfully received. I found the
admonition of Paul, wherein he said, eat what is set before you, and
ask no questions, for conscience, sake appropriate in this case.

The bell was soon rung for meeting, and the people quickly came
together. I met with them, and at the conclusion of their services
asked the privilege of acquainting them with my business in their
country; for myself and native friends were the first Mormons who had
ever been there, and to save the necessity of anyone else coming I felt
it my bounden duty to offer them the Gospel, as it has to be preached
in every land and to every people. I succeeded in saying a few words,
and received for my pains an order from the presiding priest to go out
of the house and leave the island.

Although many of the people seemed to sanction the course of the
priest, there were a few who did not seem to favor it; but to save
trouble I left the house. The people then began to discuss the order
and to question its justice, as we had been mild and made no display of
obstinacy. At last they concluded that the Mormon was not quite so bad
as he had been represented, and that he might come into the governor's
and have supper at a table which the Protestant ministers had furnished
for their own accommodation, and where they had left some dishes and a
chair; so I was comfortably seated at the table and the food brought
on. Quite a handsome young girl of about sixteen stood by the table,
and as soon as a blessing was asked, she, with her fingers, tore the
roasted chicken to pieces, stripped the flesh from off the bones, and
held this to my mouth, saying, "There!"

I drew back a little, as that was so strange a custom that I did not
appreciate it. The girl was quite dark complexioned, and some one
observed, "She is so dark that he thinks she is dirty. Let her get some
soap and wash before him, and then see if he will eat." As the people
seemed so strange in their actions, I thought there was some trick to
be played, so I waited until she had washed her hands and, in obedience
to orders, stepped up, saying that her hands were clean, "Look, that is
my color, and not dirt." Still I felt dubious about taking the bait.
Then she was told to step back, and another young lady was called for.
This one was quite fair, with rather light brown or auburn hair. They
said "Now he will eat, for he will think she is white," but I still
refused the courtesy. Then some one who was standing by said, "Let him
feed himself, like a heathen." At this the master of ceremonies said,
"Why do you not eat?" I tried to explain to them that it seemed to me
to be wrong to require so much of the females--that they should prepare
the food and then stand or sit by and put it into a man's mouth.
"Well," said he, "she was the first to sin, and she ought to wait on
the man."

At this an old man who lay flat on his stomach with the Bible before
him, opened the book to where Paul said that when he was in Rome he did
as the Romans did. The old man had his hair bushed, and, apparently,
the very brand of heathenism in his face. I would have thought as much
of looking on a brush heap or in a muskrat house for intelligence as to
have anticipated anything smart from him. He said, "My friend, do you
believe in the Bible?" I said, "Yes, and it is good to do as it says."
"Then," said he, "you are a liar; for Paul said that when he was in
Rome he did as the Romans did, and now you are in Rapia you will not do
as the Rapians do; for it is our way for the women to put the food into
our mouths. That is the way we do in this land."

Sure enough, I learned that this was true; for when the meal is ready
it is brought into the room in baskets, and the male portion of the
household get down on their hands and knees, while the females pick
the bones from the fish, pork or poultry, as the case may be, and with
their fingers put the flesh into their masters' mouths. To conclude
with, the woman dips her hand into a dish of water, and wipes his
mouth. Then he moves away, and the wife and daughter take the scraps,
or what may be left. It is considered as great a shame on that island
for a man to put food into his mouth as it is in China for a Mongolian
to have his queue cut off. But to me it seemed so ridiculous that my
stay there was too short to make it seem even human. I did not adopt
the custom, preferring to be called a heathen by those who did practice



AS I felt the great need of reform among the people of Rapia, I tried
again to get the privilege of preaching to them in their house, but
found them unyielding on that point. There were three native brethren
and their wives who had come with me. I was impressed that we ought
to make yet another trial to leave our testimony with the islanders,
so we went out by the side of their meeting house, which was a frame
building set up on blocks some eighteen inches or two feet from the
ground, the dirt floor being thatched with dry grass. We stood within
ten feet of the house and commenced to sing. Before we were ready to
read our text, it seemed that everybody in the village had come around,
but not in the ordinary way. They crowded into the meeting house and
some filled the windows, while others lay down and poked their heads
out under the sills of the house; still others got down on their hands
and knees some five or six rods off and crawled along through the
shrubbery, taking hold of the brush as they drew near, lying flat down
and drawing themselves along, taking sticks and poking the weeds aside
so they could get a better view. With this most singular congregation
before us, and the most perfect order (for it seemed as if there was
not a whisper,) we read a chapter in the Bible--the third of Matthew,
I believe--then preached on faith, repentance, and baptism for the
remission of sins. At the dismissal of our services the whole assembly
withdrew, and after that I had lots of food, such as it was.

We held seven meetings on that little fragment of terra firma, and
visited the king in the west village. We found the royal personage at
home, sitting Indian fashion on his couch, half naked. He appeared to
be a man of unusually strong character, very surly, and did not want
to talk. When I attempted to tell him the object of my mission to
his country, his neck swelled out, and he began blowing through his
nostrils like a mad bull. He said, "You leave my country." By this time
my native friends discovered that danger was gathering around us, and
told me that we must not delay one moment, but must get away as quickly
as possible, for that village had suffered defeat at the hands of the
people of the other village, and we could not be friendly with the king
and his followers if we were to the others.

We got away, and afterwards it developed that my friends had foreseen
a peril that I had not fully understood, for when the king said we had
better get away from his country, that was his ultimatum, and if we had
remained longer every one of us would have been slain, as the people
were preparing for the slaughter.

On our retreat I observed a castor oil bean tree loaded with beans.
Its trunk was as large as a man's body. I began to inspect it when my
friends called out, "Hurry up, or we will every one be killed," so we
hastened to more friendly and hospitable parts, where we came across
a large gourd, or calabash vine, and a watermelon patch. Never having
seen anything of the kind on any other island where I had been, my
inquisitive propensities were set to work ascertaining how those things
came there. Were they a spontaneous growth? If not, where did they come
from, since this little island is so remote from all others, and the
natives tell me that white men seldom visit them? I inquired of the
people where they got the seed of the vegetables named. "Why," said
they, "our forefathers brought them here."

"Where did they come from?"

The reply was, "From the rising of the sun." On hearing this, I asked
from what country, and was answered, "We do not know. It was a big
land, so big they did not know its boundary. It was a land of food, and
of great forests of big trees, and great fresh waters that were filled
with fish."

I next inquired, "How came they to leave such a good land?" The
response was in these words: "We do not know, only they said they got
lost in the fog, and were several days without seeing the sun. Then
the strong winds came and blew them over here, and their vessel was
wrecked on this island. They never could get back to the lands of their
forefathers, so they stayed here. They increased so fast that all could
not live on this land, so they made canoes and tried to get back, but
the winds were against them, that they were carried away to the west,
and for a long time those left here supposed the others were lost in
the sea; but after a time it was learned that there were other lands
where the sun goes down. Then our people made canoes and went to them,
and we think that is the way these islands became peopled, for they are
the same kind of people as ourselves."

"Have you any other knowledge of your forefathers?"

"No, we do not know anything but that which the fathers have said. They
used to say that if they could get back to their fatherland they could
find metal to make fish spears and hooks with. When the first white
men's ship came in sight we tried to go to it, thinking we could get
some fishing tackle therefrom. We thought that vessel must have come
from our fathers' land. But the wind was so strong we could not get to
the ship, and it was a long time before another one came. Finally we
reached one, and got such things as our fathers had told us about."

Read the Book of Mormon, page 427, 63d chapter, 5th to 9th verses. Was
the ship that Hagoth built the same that was wrecked on the island of
Rapia, South Pacific Ocean, about 25 deg. south latitude, and, as near
as I can find out from French charts, time reckoned from Paris, France,
in longitude 140 west?

The reader may form his own conclusions, as I return to my narrative
of our stay on the island. When we had returned from our visit to the
surly king, one man by the name of Mesearee opened his house for us to
hold meeting in, but very few attended with us.

October 17th, the bark _John Williams_ called with one Mr. Platt,
a Protestant minister, on board. This clergyman was a man of fine
address. He came ashore and preached, then sprinkled all the infant
children of the village. Though very pleasant, he refused to talk with
me in the Tahitian language, saying that if we did so on the Scriptures
it would cause a split among the people. I insisted that he show the
natives the scripture for his mode of baptism, but he declined to do
that, and boarded his vessel and sailed away.

October 27, 1852, we sailed for Tahiti. On the 29th we encountered a
very heavy storm, so severe that we lost all of our sails, and had to
lash two of our strong men on deck with slack rope so that they might
fasten down the hatch and companion ways. The rest of us had to go
below, for the sea was lashed into a foamy mass as white as snow. It
did not seem possible for us to survive the terrible ordeal. As in
almost all similar cases, the wicked will pray--that is in times of
great danger, if at no other time--so the natives who went below, some
fifty-nine in number, divided themselves into three praying parties.
One of these occupied the bow, one stationed itself amidships, and one
was in the stern of the vessel. Then a man in one party would pray at
the top of his voice, and so on with each party in turn. Thus they
prayed, passing the word back and forth, as long as the sea raged in
its fury.

In all of our travels together, those in charge of the vessel had never
honored me with a request to attend prayers, or once called me to ask a
blessing, but now, in our great peril, one of the old priests found his
way in the dense darkness to my berth, and said: "Iatobo, you pray to
your God of power, to spare us, that we may not die in this great sea."
I told him no, for I had done my praying on land, before I had boarded
the schooner, and now I had all that I could do to hold myself in the
berth, that I might not be thrown out and killed. He returned with
a grunt, and commanded the rest to pray. These conditions continued
for six or seven hours, when the wind abated, and the little schooner
pitched and rolled as if she would go to the bottom.

November 1, 1852, we sighted a reef called Hereheretue. On the 9th
we came in view of Metia, and on the 10th we went into the harbor of
Papeete, Tahiti. It was on the 11th when, through the intervention
of Mr. Kelly, American consul, I got permission to land. The same
gentleman gave me an introduction to one Charles Hill, a carpenter,
who was rather a backslider from the Mormon Church. Still, he was very
friendly, and said that if I would assist him in carpenter work he
would board and lodge me until I could get a passage home. Mr. Kelly
counseled me not to be alone anywhere, as a watch would be kept over me
every minute I was on the island. He said he would not be responsible
if I preached or traveled out of the town, as I was liable to be shot
the moment that I was found alone. Said he, "The French are more bitter
towards you than ever. They seem to think you would turn everything
upside down if you were allowed to run at large. I have never seen
them so excited over anything as they are about you. They are actually
afraid of you, for fear that if you were permitted to go among the
people again they would revolt at once, and there would be another
war." He also said that he would arrange matters so that I could go
with Mr. Hill to and from his work, and if we kept close together, he
thought it all safe, as Mr. Hill was well known; but that I had better
stop in his office till he could see the governor, and I could go out
to Mr. Hill's in the evening with him, as he lived in the suburbs of
the town. Mr. Kelly also told me there had been more trouble at Anaa,
and a number of our people from there were in prison on Tahiti; and
further, that I was held responsible for all the trouble on that island.

It having been arranged for me to stop with Mr. Hill, he called for
me in the evening, and next morning I went to work with him at his
business. In the meantime the news of my arrival on Tahiti spread very
fast, and the sons of the prisoners from Anaa, who had followed their
parents in disguise, and could visit the prisoners one at a time, put
pencil and paper into their hands on the sly, so that they could write
to me. Five or six of the young men dressed themselves as the regular
"toughs" of the town, and met Mr. Hill and me, one of them bearing a
note in his hand. When they got near us they began to dance and sing
in a very rude manner, acting as if they would not give any of the
road to us. Then they pushed the one with the note against me, and
as he passed it into my hand the rest circled clear around so as to
obscure me from two gen d' armes who followed us day and night. Then
the young men would shout and laugh as if they had done it to annoy me
in particular. Thus I received letters from the natives. The young men
would meet us again, and I would pass to them the answers, while they
would appear to the looker-on to be running against me purposely, to
insult and annoy me. Sometimes I would try to show my displeasure by
scolding at them. In this way a regular correspondence was carried on
between the unfortunate prisoners and myself, during my stay. In that
manner I learned that there were twenty-three of them in prison, there
being ten Elders, five Priests, four Teachers and four Deacons. On the
12th there were eight more prisoners brought from the island of Anaa,
six brethren and two sisters. All of the thirty-one were put to work on
the steep side of a mountain, to make a road up to a fort. The hillside
was so steep that some of them fell and were hurt quite seriously.
Sometimes the prisoners were beaten by the guards that attended them.
Their provisions were very poor, and they had not even enough of that.

I will again mention my former persecutors of the island of Raivavai,
with whom I traveled to Tahiti, for they came to me in great trouble,
and said their schooner had been so badly damaged in the storm we had
been in that the French had condemned it, and would not allow them to
go to sea again. They were four hundred miles from home, without money,
provisions or friends. They very humbly asked my advice, which I gave
freely, telling them to state their case to the French authorities,
and these would be bound to find a way to have them returned home and
give them support until they did so. This pleased them very much; they
seemed to appreciate the counsel of one whom they had sat in judgment
and helped to pass sentence upon, ordering him to be burned. Doubtless
some of them had aided in gathering the fuel to make the fire for the
burning. I condoled with them as much as the conditions would admit
of; and when I came to part with them they seemed to feel, and in fact
said, that I had been a true friend to them. They wept as though they
were my near relatives. Thus returning good for evil brought blessings.



SO far as my own conduct was concerned, now that I was again on
the island of Tahiti, I continued with Mr. Hill. Two gen d' armes
followed us or hung around where we were at work all day, and at night
tramped about the house where we lived. At daylight the night guards
disappeared in the brush. One morning I stepped three or four rods into
the brush, for my morning devotions, and as I was engaged with my eyes
closed I heard a rustling in the leaves. Supposing it was the hogs that
ran around there, I paid no attention until I was through, when I saw
two officers standing within fifteen feet of and in front of me, gazing
straight into my face. They were heavily armed, but did not interfere
with me, so I returned to the house, while they mounted the fence and
sat there till we went to work, when they followed us up as usual.

During this time I met with Mr. Howe, the presiding official of the
Protestant mission on the islands. He appeared to feel very sympathetic
toward me, and invited me to take dinner with him and his good old
lady. I accepted the invitation, and he made me a present of a Tahitian
Bible, also of a Tahitian and English dictionary. He is the same Mr.
Howe spoken of before, when he was so radically opposed to me, but
now he seemed charitable and kind. After I left his house, and was
passing along in sight of the Catholic bishop's office, the bishop
sent a servant after me, inviting me in to dine and wine. Accordingly,
I called, finding him a very polite gentleman. He met me at the door
of his library, took me by the hand and courteously led me to a seat,
then set out some wine, saying he was very sorry that he had but one
glass of wine in the room, though he set out two glasses, but poured
all the wine into one, which he presented to me. At that moment the
saying of the Lord Jesus came to my mind, to be harmless as doves but
wise as serpents. I adopted as much French politeness as I was capable
of, divided the wine into the two glasses, presented him the one with
the most wine in, telling him that I could not think of drinking
alone--that he must join me or I should decline his very kind offer. I
thought that if he could stand to drink the largest half of the wine, I
could afford to try the least half, and as I preferred him to drink his
first, I delayed until he had swallowed it, when I drank to his health.
We had a sociable chat, and he insisted on my stopping to supper, when
he would have plenty of wine. I told him I could not, as my attendants,
the gen d' armes, were waiting patiently for me. He next presented
me two books, telling me that they would show how the priesthood had
descended from Peter down to the present pope. The books being in the
French language, were of no use to me, so I bade him good-bye.

I learned from Mr. Kelly that the governor was impatient at my stay
on the island, so I disposed of everything that I could spare, raised
sixty dollars thereby, and prepared to sail on the English ship
_Abyssinia_, from Sydney, Australia, and commanded by Captain George

November 24, 1852, I boarded the _Abyssinia_, paying sixty dollars
steerage passage to San Francisco, California. When I got on the deck,
the seamen and some of the passengers crowded around me, and stared at
me as if I had been a wild beast. When I saluted them with, "Gentlemen,
how are you?" they looked at each other as much as to say, "Shall we
return the compliment?" At last one of the sailors took off his hat,
made a bow, and said, "Please sir, can you speak English?" I answered,
"Yes, sir, a little." The next question was, "And are you a Mormon
Elder?" My reply was, "Yes," and was followed with, "Well, pardon me,
but I thought a Mormon Elder had a cloven foot and a shell on his back,
and I expected that you would be brought aboard in a case, as I have
been told that the Mormons were a kind of half beast, fierce, and wild."

Some of the others said that they had had the same ideas. A third party
exclaimed, "What d--d lies they have told us! We have been anxious
to see this Elder ever since we heard there was one coming on board,
and we thought to see you brought in a big cage. We cannot see any
difference in you and common men." So much for wild and slanderous
stories afloat in those days and in that part of the world.

Shortly the vessel was got under way, but just as we entered the
passage the wind slackened so that we came very near being crushed
against the reef. Five boats from a French warship came to our aid, as
we had cast anchor to save ourselves, and the Frenchmen towed us back
to a safe location, where we lay until the 26th.

We tried it again on the 27th, and as we passed out of the harbor we
went close to the French warship, which was weighing anchor. On the
deck stood the Catholic bishop, who held up his cross and made signs.
He said there was trouble in Anaa again, and he was going there.

After we sailed, the captain of the _Abyssinia_ asked me to lend
him some books on Mormonism. I let him take the Book of Mormon and
the Doctrine and Covenants. He returned them on the 29th, saying,
"I believe the books and your prayers have made me sick." He did
not trouble me any more about Mormonism, yet treated me with proper
respect, as a rule.

There were several male and female passengers on board, a portion of
the latter being of the lewd class, judging from their actions; and
the former were not much better. I loaned all the books that I had to
passengers and seamen. Nearly all on board treated me in a courteous

On November 30th a waterspout passed close to our ship, causing much
excitement. Its roar was frightful, as it carried a very great column
of water up into the air, and spread it out into the clouds like a
whirlwind on land, but on so much larger scale as to be a dread to

December 1st we sighted what the captain called Flint's Island. It was
large and high, and appeared to be inhabited. On the 10th we crossed
the equator, where the seamen had some sport at the expense of several
of the passengers who had not crossed it before. They made preparations
for Neptune, and told many stories of his pranks with those who dared
cross his path without paying penance, or treating the ship's crew.

On the 20th we encountered a terrific storm, which carried away most of
our sail, and left us badly damaged. On Christmas day we had something
like a tidal wave in a calm sea. The wave was so great that it swept
away the main topgallant sail and the jib boom. Two seamen were carried
below for dead. The ship sprung a leak in the bow, and the peril became
so great that all the seamen and the male passengers were called to
lend a hand. It being in the night, the consternation was so intense
that passengers were on the deck in their night clothes, screaming.
Some shouted to pray, and others did pray with all the fervor at their
command, especially when the carpenter, reporting that the vessel
was parting in her beams, called for men to turn the windlass, and
for kettles of hot tar, blankets, caulking, chisels, and anything to
make repairs. As the wind began to freshen, the boat headed before
it, without any regard to course. The next order was, "Down with the

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Then sound her."

"Aye, sir."

"How is she?"

"Gaining water, sir."

It was hurry to the pumps, and the carpenter was asked, "How is she?"

"All right, sir."

"Heave away at the windlass! Keep the pumps going!"

The carpenter had been pinning timber across the breach, and with
windlass power preventing if possible the seam from spreading any more
until he could make it safe. Blankets were dipped in hot tar and driven
into the parting. With these efforts and by keeping the pumps going
steadily for eight hours, the boat was partly freed from the rolling
sea, and at length was patched up and put on her course. The captain
then said that his greatest fear had been that, as his cargo was coal,
the friction of the fuel and the water coming in below would cause the
cargo to take fire. When we got righted and on our course, we had light
winds, and cold and wet weather until the voyage was ended.



ON January 8th, 1853, we passed into the bay of San Francisco, where
we came close to a big New York clipper ship, fast on a rock in the
passage. While we were looking at the vessel, the tide came in and
lifted it up; then it dropped back and was smashed as if it were only a
matchbox. Luckily, the ship had been there long enough to be surrounded
by boats sufficient to save the passengers, and perhaps their baggage.

We soon dropped anchor from our dismantled bark, which, as I afterwards
learned, was condemned as being unseaworthy, and never was allowed
to go to sea again. The seamen on our vessel went to picking up the
wreckage from the clipper ship. They chanced to catch a barrel of
whisky, when the captain ordered it to be carried below. That made
the sailors desperate. They seized an ax, crushed the barrel head in,
and each seaman dipped with his cup. Within fifteen minutes they were
wild with drunkenness. They armed themselves with axes, hand-spikes,
belaying pins, marlinspikes, and any and everything they could lay hold
of. Then the officers, and some of the passengers who had incurred
their displeasure, were made to hunt hiding places below in doublequick
time. That condition did not last long, however, before a compromise
was effected, the captain took his position again, and the men went to
landing passengers and baggage. I got my trunk ready to depart, when
the captain demanded five dollars of me, for hospital fees, he said. As
I had not so much as one dollar, I had to leave my trunk and go ashore,
very sick and cold.

When I reached the streets I found things so changed from when I was
there before that I felt lost in the throng of people. It seemed to me
that everyone was seeking his own gain, regardless of his fellow-men.
It was push, ram, jam, on all sides. I had worn my clothes pretty well
out, my hat had been so crushed that my hair was showing in the crown,
and my shoe soles were worn very nearly off.

In this condition I asked the Lord, in silent prayer, to show me
what I should do. The Spirit said, "Go up the street." I was then on
California Street. I obeyed the whisperings, until I got near the top
of the street. Without any consolation the thought came, What shall I
do? The still, small Voice said, "Go up the street," and I obeyed again.

At last, almost despairing of everything, wholly sick and tired,
suffering from lack of some refreshment, and feeling that there was no
relief for me, I saw a man start across the street above me, and from
the same side. When he neared the center of the street, he stopped and
seemed to be looking at me. As I advanced, he turned around, and walked
back two or three steps. By this time I started across toward him, and
he came to meet me. It was Redick N. Allred, of the Mormon Battalion.

We did not recognize each other until we went to shake hands. He said,
"How are you?" I answered, "Tired, sick, and hungry." "Well," said he,
"come back across the street with me, to a lunch stand, and we will
have something to eat." Soon the inner man was comforted, when Brother
Allred told me there were thirty-six Elders in San Francisco, bound to
foreign lands on missions. He led me to some of my old friends, and
I found John Layton, whom I had been acquainted with on the Society
Islands. He told me that if I would I could come and stop with him, and
chop the wood and do the marketing; for his wife, being an islander,
could not talk English well. I accepted the kind offer, and thus was
provided with a home.

I also met with Major Jefferson Hunt. We saw a Captain King, took
supper with him, and told him that the captain of the vessel I had come
on had retained my trunk because I had not five dollars to pay the
hospital fees. Brother Badlam gave me the money to get my trunk, and
Captain King gave me a note to a custom officer. I obtained my trunk
after I had paid the captain of the _Abyssinia_ the money, and I followed
him up to the custom house, to the officer there, to whom I showed
Captain King's note. The officer gave the sea captain a look, then said
something to him, and without a word more he returned me the money.

I next visited the Elders, and attended meetings with them. They
had arrived several days before me, and had sold their teams in the
southern part of California. They had also taken up some collections
among the Saints. Brother John M. Horner having been very liberal to
them, a number of them rendered me assistance.

One day, as I was passing Widow Ivins', she called to me, and ran out
to meet me, saying, "Here is ten dollars that a lady gave me to hand to
you, and here is thirty dollars more that she wishes you to convey to
that body of Elders that is in town, to help them on their missions."
I asked the name of the lady, and the reply was, "I am not at liberty
to disclose her name." She said the lady was not a Mormon, but had
attended our meetings, and had stated that she was unworthy to be
personally known to us; so I never learned who she was.

At one time, when I was walking along the street alone, I was met by
a stranger, who offered to shake hands with me. As we grasped hands,
he pushed a five-dollar gold piece into mine. I said, "What does this
mean?" He replied, "None of your d--d business. Take it, and bless
yourself with it. I have money due me, and if I am successful in
collecting it, I will see you again." At that he dashed away in the
busy throng, and I never saw him more, that I am aware of.

On a still further occasion, I was met by an entire stranger, who put
a dollar in my hand and said, "Come, let us have some good cider and
cake." I begged to be excused, but he would not listen to it; I had
to go with him anyhow. We stepped to a lunch stand, where he said,
"Let this man have what he calls for; I want to catch that man," and
away he went. The proprietor asked what I would have, and I told him I
would await the return of my friend. He said, "Never mind him, he is
all right; he may not be back again till tomorrow morning." Then he
insisted on my order, so I took some crackers and cider; but I never
saw my friend again. Thus it seemed to me that great and wondrous
were the mysterious providences of the Lord, for I had landed in
San Francisco on the 8th of January, 1853, and by the 26th I had
seventy-five dollars handed to me, much of it by entire strangers
whom I had never seen before, nor have I seen them since. It seems
mysterious to me how my way opened up and my necessities were met.

The Elders outward bound treated me very kindly. They fitted themselves
out for their several destinations, paid their passage, and then had
some fifteen hundred dollars to send to their families, with their
photographs and some small parcels, all of which they entrusted to me,
with three small trunks, to take to San Bernardino. Of the money seven
hundred and fifty dollars in gold was put into a belt and girded around
my body; the balance was in drafts or checks.

In the meantime, some of the Elders had met with Mr. Holliday, overland
mail contractor. As he had not perfected his arrangements for regular
mail service, he made some inquiries of the Elders about sending mail
sacks by chance carrier to Los Angeles. They referred him to me, as
they thought there would be something in it for me. He called, and I
agreed to take charge of three sacks if he would deliver them on the
steamer _Sea Bird_, on the morning of the 29th. On that date he sent the
sacks just as we were putting off. He told me the pay would be all
right when the sacks were delivered.

I had paid thirty-five dollars for my passage to San Pedro, and we
steamed out. On the morning of the 30th we landed at Monterey, and
lay there till 4 p.m. During that time I had a severe chill, followed
by a very high fever, which held on till next morning, when a heavier
chill came on, like the ague, followed by fever. I had made my bed
down on some nail kegs that were on deck; for the boat was so crowded
with passengers of all classes that there was no possible chance for
comfort. It semed that everyone was seeking his own convenience,
regardless of his neighbor.



ON the voyage down from San Francisco I grew so desperately sick that
I lost my reasoning powers, becoming so delirious that afterwards I
could only remember removing my coat and vest and turning into bed, on
the nail kegs, with my trunks and the mail sacks about me. The next
thing that I recall was in the after part of the day, February 1st,
1853, when I began to regain consciousness. There was an old Spanish
gentleman and his good old "mahara" (wife) rubbing my hands and feet,
while a big crowd of the passengers stood around. My first thought
was: What does this mean--who am I--where did I come from--where am I
going---how did I come here, and why are these strangers so interested
in me as to be rubbing my hands? The next thing, the old gentleman
brought me some refreshments, with a cup of coffee; and when I finally
returned to consciousness I inquired what had been the matter. I was
told that I had been a very sick man, but was much better, and would
soon be well. When the crowd were satisfied that the worst was past
they dispersed, but the old gentleman and lady sat near, as if to
anticipate any favor I might need. Doubtless the good old couple have
been gathered home to their fathers long ere this writing. If so,
peace to their ashes; may they in no wise lose their reward, for they
administered to the suffering stranger, although they were foreigners,
while my own countrymen passed rudely by.

With consciousness returned, I remembered the money that I had in
charge. I felt about my body, and to my surprise and mortification
the belt was gone. The next thought I had was that I had been robbed
by some one on board, and I wondered what could be done to regain the
property, or, if it could not be recovered, how could I make amends to
the poor women and children whom their husbands and fathers had sent
it to? How could I prove my innocence to them? By this time the mental
sufferings had overcome the physical pain, and in despair I drew the
blankets close about me. In so doing I felt the belt of money lying
at my back, under cover. The buckle had been ripped or cut off, most
likely the latter, for, as I learned afterwards, in some way it was
noised around that I had money.

The reaction of the mental faculties was too much for my weak state,
and I almost swooned away; but when I fully recovered from the shock
to my nerves, I rolled the belt snugly up, and raised on my knees with
my blankets so drawn about my shoulders as to cover the front part of
the trunk. Then I placed the belt inside, at the same time taking some
article out, so as to divert the observers' attention from my real
purpose; I then laid down, suffering with a terrible fever, and put in
one night more of great wretchedness.

About 3 or 4 p.m. next day, February 2nd, we landed at San Pedro. There
was a great rush for the shore, and for the four or five vehicles
that were in waiting. The most of the passengers seemed to be without
baggage, save a roll of blankets or a satchel, and as the the writer
had so much and was sick, he was the last person to land. Every vehicle
was gone, and all the passengers were out of sight before he got his
baggage ashore. When this did come, it was thrown on the beach just
above high water mark.

At that early date there was not a hotel, boardinghouse, or restaurant
anywhere in sight from the landing. One wall of an old adobe warehouse
stood near by, and the only thing for the writer to do was to seek
what shelter that wall afforded. Thither he dragged his effects, then
dropped down on his bedding exhausted. He lay there until he had
excited the curiosity of a Spaniard and his wife who were some distance
away. They came down and asked what was the matter, and as I did not
know, I could not tell them. They saw that my face was swollen and
they seemed afraid to come close, but inquired what I wished, and if
they could do anything for me. I asked for milk and bread, which they
supplied, and left me to my fate for the night.

The experiences of that terrible night baffle the writer's powers of
description. Suffice it to say, he passed it alone, with the heavy mist
of the briny deep resting upon him, while the fever and thirst seemed
to be consuming his body.

At last the morning light came through a dense fog; but by 8 or 9
o'clock that had partly passed away. Some freight teams came down from
Los Angeles, and the sufferer felt somewhat encouraged to think there
was a prospect of his reaching civilization at the place where he had
helped to rear the first liberty pole which was to bear aloft the Stars
and Stripes on the Pacific coast. He accosted the freighters, feeling
assured that he would not be denied a passage, as he was prepared to
pay for this accommodation. The first man said no; he had all that he
could haul. The second teamster said no, he was not doing a passenger
business. The third said, "I don't know. It is too d--d bad to leave
you here sick. I guess I can take you. Throw on your things if you can,
and hurry about it." When the writer made an effort to do as invited,
the freighter lent him a hand, and when the baggage was aboard the
teamster said, "Come, get on here. It's a poor place for a sick man,
away up on a goods box, among the bows, but it's your only chance with
me. Up there!" and away we went on our journey twenty-one miles to Los
Angeles, where we arrived about 8 p.m.

Near the center of the city, on the sidewalk at a street corner, my
effects were dumped. I wandered around to find shelter, and at last
reached Jesse D. Hunter's place. Hunter had been captain of Company B
in the Mormon Battalion, and I thought I could do no better than stop
with him, though I did not meet anything very inviting. I was coldly
granted the privilege of dragging my blankets into the kitchen, and of
bunking down on the dirt floor, after a light supper of bread and milk,
the first food I had had since the night before. But I was too ill to
do better, and Mr. Hunter was so cool and indifferent that I was glad
to leave his place next morning without any further accommodations.

I started out alone, and turned so sick and dizzy that I had to lie
down in the street on my blankets. While there I was approached by
Daniel Clark and James Bailey from San Bernardino. They asked if my
name was Brown, and if I was a returning missionary. I told them yes.
They said they had heard of me, and that I had the smallpox, so they
had been searching the town for me, and happening to see me lie down in
the street, they became satisfied they had found the object of their
search. Each of them threw me ten dollars in gold, and went in search
of a room or place where I could be cared for. Failing in finding that,
they called on the mayor, who started the marshal out to hunt a place.
When Clark and Bailey had done all they could--and they were as kind
as they could be--they had the mail sacks delivered, but did not find
the pay that was to be all right on delivery. Then they went home to
San Bernardino, while I did the best I could to find shelter, but my
face was so terribly swollen that every door was shut against me; and
when the news spread that there was a man around the streets with the
smallpox, I could have the sidewalk to myself wherever I went.

At last I found Dr. Jones' office open, but dark and with no one in it.
I dragged my bedding through the office to the bedroom, where I spread
my blankets and turned in, leaving the door open and lights burning.
When anyone came to the door I would shout "Smallpox!" and it was
amusing to hear the people run.

About 11 p.m. the doctor came, and I shouted "Smallpox!" Said he:
"Who is here?" I answered, "The man whom you said had the smallpox."
He responded, "All right, but I would not have had it happen for five
hundred dollars. Be quiet, you have done just right. But how did you
get in?"

"Why, the door was open," I replied, and he said: "I never did such a
thing before in my life. It must have been done on purpose for you, for
it was not fit for you to be out." The doctor then held his breath,
stepped in over me, took up his bed, and walked away.



EARLY next morning, the marshal and doctor were there with suitable
refreshments, and when the patient had made a feint at eating they told
him they had secured a room if he could put up with it. Sheep had been
kept in it, and it was smoked very black, but they assured him that
the conditions were favorable to recovery from the disease. Then they
took him by his arms and assisted him into an old cart that they had
standing at the door; they had an Indian to lead the horse.

The patient could not see a particle only as he held his eyes open with
his fingers. He told them of his trunk, which had been left all this
time where the freighter had dumped it when the writer came into town.
The trunk was brought, and the Indian led out, the marshal and doctor
bringing up the rear.

When we passed the suburbs, we turned to the right, to an old deserted
adobe house of two rooms. The front yard had been used as a sheepfold.
The doors had been broken down, and the sheep had had free access to
the rooms, until the sheep manure was some five or six inches deep on
the dirt floor. The rooms were very poorly lighted at best; and to add
to the darkness, the sheepherders had camped in them till the whole of
the inside of the rooms was smoked as black as a stove. The doctor said
it was the best they could do, adding: "It is too d--d bad to put you
in such a place, but if you will put up with it, it will be the very
best thing for you in the end. The sheepy smell, and the darkness, with
some ointment that I will give you, will prevent your being marked;
whereas, if you were kept in a light, clean room, you have got the
disease so bad that you would be marked all over. Then again you have
been so badly exposed that you must put up with the treatment in order
to recover properly, lest something else follows."

I told him that my condition was such that I was compelled to submit to
any treatment they saw fit to give. Then they got some tools, removed
the dry, hard packed manure, and placed my mattress down on the dirt
floor, so that when the covering was spread ready for me it was just
level with the manure on the front, the foot, head and back being
against the walls.

Having turned in, I opened my eyes with my fingers, and found myself
in twilight, with an Indian man for a nurse. The marshal and doctor
left, saying that I should be cared for. Then the nurse went off, and
soon returned with a custard in a coffee basin; this he said was worth
fifty cents. He brought it, and an iron spoon to eat the custard, but
when I opened my eyes in such an unnatural way, they appeared so badly
bloodshot that the nurse took fright and ran away, leaving me to my
fate until 5 or 6 o'clock p.m. Then an old Spaniard, who was very badly
pox-marked, came and said he had been engaged as a nurse, as the Indian
was so frightened at the disease that he would not return. The Spaniard
seemed to comprehend the conditions. He got a Spanish roll of bread and
a pint of milk for fifty cents, then straightened up the bed and left
for the night. Next morning he was on hand to attend to my wants.

This was on February 6, 1853. The smallpox began to appear in pustules,
or rather boils; for it so resembled the latter that I began to think
of patient old Job. I was sore from the crown of my head to the soles
of my feet, and yet it was only blisters that day, comparatively

The Spanish nurse seemed to understand his business, for as I would
roll and toss, the old gentleman would tuck the bedclothes about me,
saying, "Must not let the air to you. Must keep warm, and have warm
drink, and have the bowels moderately easy." Then he would apply the
ointment, and be as cheerful as possible, doing all that he could to
divert my mind from my sufferings.

Night came on and the blisters enlarged; I became very sick at the
stomach, and the kind old nurse stayed by me till daylight on the 7th.
The fever still raged fiercely. Night again came, and the nurse got
alarmed at seeing some six or seven rough men, armed, approaching the
house. He hastily gathered his arms full of cobblestones, ran in and
piled them on the edge of the bed, and cried out, "Can you fight? The
robbers are coming. Murder! murder!" At that I raised in bed, opened my
eyes in the new way, and took up a cobble rock, the nurse standing by
the bed shouting "Murder!"

The next moment three ruffians appeared at the partition door, in the
house, while another presented himself at the window, near the head
of the bed. So far as I could see, they were armed with revolvers and
bowie knives. There must have been two or three men at the outside door.

The shock came so suddenly that I had no time to get thoroughly scared
until I heard men running around the northwest corner of the house.
The latter noise was by the marshal and a posse which he had summoned
hastily, for a party had been in the saloon and had heard the ruffians
say, "Let's go and rob that man who has got the smallpox, for he has
got money." It must be that some of the party had been the ones who
had ripped the belt off of me while on shipboard, where they had been
disturbed before they had time to slip it away. Thus they had learned
about the money, and when they got to drinking and gambling, they
probably had decided on robbing the smallpox man to make a raise, but
had talked too loud for the success of their plan. The marshal acted
so promptly that they were foiled in their plot, for when they heard
him and his posse coming, and the nurse shouting "Murder!" they fled
to the southeast and passed over into a dark, deep, brushy ravine,
out of sight, just as the marshal and party gained the south side of
the building. The officer said he saw them, but had not time to shoot
before they disappeared in the brush and darkness.

The marshal came into the house and informed me of the plot and how he
came to hear of it. He said, "Now, if you have any money or valuable
papers, you had better send for some trusty friend to come and take
care of them. I will send for anyone that you will name." I told him
I did not know of a better friend than the one who had come to my
relief, and if he, the marshal, would take care of the valuables, I
would be much obliged. He said he would take charge of them and have
them deposited for safekeeping till I wanted them. I then handed out
my memorandum book, with the names of the men who sent the money, the
amounts, and the names of those to whom it was sent. Then, my eyes
being propped open, I poured the money on to a handkerchief they had
spread over my lap. As the money was mostly in gold ten and twenty
dollar pieces, in fifty dollar packages, it was easily and quickly
counted, and found to tally with the memoranda. Then the drafts and
checks were counted, and all put together in the belt--some fifteen
hundred dollars--and handed over to the marshal, with Dr. Jones as

When the gold was being counted out, some of the would-be robbers
appeared at the window, and doubtless saw that the marshal was taking
charge of the valuables, by which action their plot fell through,
and I was not troubled any more. But the experience was enough for
the Spanish nurse, for the robbers undoubtedly were Spaniards or
"greasers," and if they could take revenge on him they would do it.
Some of the marshal's posse stayed till they felt satisfied the danger
was all over, then they, with the nurse, left, and next day sent to
me an old badly pox-marked sailor for an attendant. He came in with a
bottle of whisky that he said was a hundred years old.

The first thing the new nurse said was, "Hello, old chum! What are you
doing there? Come, and have a drink with me." The next breath he said,
"No, no, for I know it would not do for you. I will drink for you. So
here goes." He then took a liberal draught, and wanted to know what he
could do for my comfort. On being told there was nothing I wanted just
then, he said, "Let me sing you a song," and he sang a very comical
ditty. Then he said, "I'll dance a jig for you," and at it he went. In
the performance he kicked the dry manure pretty nearly all over me and
my bed, for he was "three sheets in the wind and the fourth fluttering"
(three-fourths drunk, or more.)

When he saw what he had done, he dropped on his knees and begged
pardon, making the most humble apology. Said he, "Never mind, old chum,
just lay over to starboard, and I will make it all right." He brushed
and brushed away, then said, "Now to larboard, and I will fix you all
right." So he pounded away, talking all the time in his sailor phrases.
Finally he partially sobered up, and it would have been hard to find a
more thoughtful and attentive nurse. From that time on he stayed with
me, told many interesting sea stories, and sang love songs.

On February 10th my cousin, John M. Brown, who was passing through that
part of the country, came to the door and called. "Is that you, James?"
At the same time he threw a ten dollar gold piece on the bed; but not
having had the smallpox, he dare not come in. We had not met before in
eight years. At that date I was suffering intensely, if not the worst
that I had done, for I was down so weak that I could not help myself at

On the 11th, W. G. Sherwood, of San Bernardino, came in, saying that
the Saints had raised some money for me, and had sent him to take care
of me until I was able to come out to them. Brothers D. Clark and J.
Bailey had told President Seeley of my condition. I felt indeed very
thankful for the favors shown me.

On the 14th the smallpox had nearly died away, and by the 19th I was
considered out of all danger, with prudence. On the 20th, the doctor
and marshal came and ordered all of my bedding and a good suit of
clothes that I had on when taken down, boots, hat, and all, piled in
the yard, and there burned. They said my expenses had been five dollars
per day for the house, because of the disease and being close to where
the landlord and his family lived. The nurses also had to be paid the
same amount per day. I told them I had been out on a long mission at my
own expense, and now had so little money that it would cost me every
dollar that I had to meet the loss of my clothes and bedding, so it was
impossible for me to settle such a bill, one hundred and forty dollars.
I had paid for every article I had used except a little medicine the
doctor had furnished.

The marshal and doctor said they understood that I had come into the
country as a soldier in the time of the Mexican war. I told them that I
had helped to build the fort that overlooked the town, and that I went
to San Bernardino canyon and helped get down the first liberty pole
that ever bore the Stars and Stripes on this western coast. At this
they asked a number of questions, as if to satisfy themselves whether
or not I had told them the truth, and when they became convinced the
marshal said: "Mr. Brown, do not make any trouble, for we will see that
you do not have to pay that bill; you are worthy of all the care that
you have had, and more too. Los Angeles will pay that, and you are
free to go on your way. We are pleased to have made your acquaintance,
and that you have recovered so well; for your case has been a very
remarkable one, to have had the disease so badly and after being
exposed as you were, to have recovered so soon, with scarce a mark left
on you. It has been a most wonderful case, and we congratulate you on
your safe recovery, and wish you success on your journey to Salt Lake."
Of course I could not feel otherwise than very grateful to those two
gentlemen for their kind attention and largeness of soul. Then we bade
each other good-bye and I am not conscious that we have ever met since
that day.

Brother Sherwood and I stored my trunk, put our other effects on his
poor old stallion, went down town and got my money and some provisions
and a bottle of old whisky, and were amused to see so many people run
from the smallpox, while others stood afar off and gazed. Finally, on
February 21st, we set out for San Bernardino, eighty miles, on foot,
one leading and the other punching the old horse, which was so weak
that he stumbled wherever the road was a little rough. We only got ten
miles that day.

On the 22nd we proceeded on our journey another ten miles, when it was
impossible for me to go any further. I was thoroughly exhausted, and
had to lie down or drop. We were ten miles from water, and so thirsty
that it seemed that I must die on that arid plain. Brother Sherwood,
however, proved equal to the emergency. He got me on to a pair of
blankets, led the old horse up so as to cast a shadow over me, then
hastened to soak a piece of bread in some old whisky. He gave me the
bread, saying it would slake my thirst, and stimulate me. Strange as it
seemed to me, it did so, and in a short time I was able to rise alone,
and sit up.

We had not been there a great while when we saw a party of Spanish
ladies coming in on another road, that appeared to unite with the one
we were on; so by an effort we gained the junction just as they did.
They stopped their cart, and asked if we would have some wine. We said
we preferred water, and they gave us both. Seeing that I was very ill,
they invited me to ride with them, making room so that I had a place
between the two on the front seat and rested my head and shoulders on
the laps of the two on the rear seat, while they bathed my head with
water, and urged me to take a little more wine. It did seem that if it
had not been for this most unexpected kindness I should have died of
thirst and exhaustion before we could have reached any other source of

Brother Sherwood followed in the rear to where the ladies lived, but
before he came up I was helped on to a bed in a cool room, and had some
refreshments, with a cup of chocolate. Oh, how thankful I was to those
blessed Spanish "senoritas!" When their husbands came in, they shook
hands and seemed to be pleased that their wives had dealt so kindly
with the strange American. Brother Sherwood soon arrived, and they
unpacked his horse and took care of it, while the women supplied him
with water to bathe his hands and face, and with refreshments. Then he
and I retired early.

Next morning, February 23, we were served with chocolate and tortias
(pancakes) before we were out of bed. Our hosts had only a humble
home, but so kind were they in their attentions to us that it aroused
suspicions of a large bill to pay, but when we asked them the amount
they shrugged their shoulders Spanish fashion, and with a pleasant
smile said, in Spanish, "Nothing; friendship; no more." As we bade them
good-bye they said they would be pleased for me to allow them to have
the little smallpox scab that was on my nose, if we thought it would
not leave a mark, so they and Brother Sherwood removed it, and thought
it would not leave any pit; therefore I allowed him to remove it and
leave it with them. Still it did leave its mark till this day.

We proceeded on to a ranch where we met with a fourth cousin of mine,
John Garner, who kindly offered me a seat in his wagon. He was loaded
and could not start till late, but we could reach his place before
midnight, and Brother Sherwood could push on; for when we started
Sherwood would not be able to keep up. I accepted his proposition, and
we reached his home at 11 o'clock p.m.

On the 24th I went to what they called at that time, I believe, Fort
San Bernardino. There I found many warm-hearted friends, and a number
of relatives, among them John M. and Alexander Brown, my cousins. I
made my home with the latter, who, with his wife, was very kind to me.
I also visited many old acquaintances. My trunk I sent for by Sidney
Tanner, and he brought it from Los Angeles free of charge.



ON February 27th, I was called on by President Seeley of the branch of
the Church at San Bernardino, to give a report of my mission, and I did
so before the congregation. On March 9th, I prepared to come home with
John and Alexander Brown, to Salt Lake City, but for some reason they
gave up the idea of traveling at that time, and I had to await another
opportunity. Then we looked about the country, thinking that we would
make some improvements, if we did not meet with a better chance to come
to Utah.

About this time there was a great amount of sickness in the place, and
Elder Thomas Whitaker, from the islands, and I had numerous calls to
administer to the sick. Many seemed to be possessed of evil spirits;
certainly, if they had lived in Mary Magdalene's day it would have
been said of them that they had seven devils in them; for the actions
were the same as in those days, and the evil spirits would not come
out except through fasting and prayer. Consequently, President Seeley
ordered a fast and a prayer meeting for the Saints. It was very well
attended, and good results followed. Many people were healed of the
diseases afflicting them. One incident I will mention: There lived
in the town a man named John Brown; he had a Spanish wife and one or
two children. One evening, Major Jefferson Hunt's wife called on me
to come as quickly as possible, for Mr. Brown's child looked as if it
were dying. I went in, and found the mother and child in bed together.
The little one acted as if it were choking to death, and was fighting
for breath; it gnashed its teeth and frothed at the mouth. I anointed
it with consecrated oil, and as there was no other Elder handy I
administered to the child, when every symptom of its trouble left it
immediately, but seized on the mother. She raved, frothed and foamed
at the mouth, gnashed her teeth, cramped, and seemed so ill that she
could not live five minutes. Sister Hunt anointed her with oil, and I
administered to her. She was healed that moment. An Indian woman was
sitting there sewing, and the same power that had afflicted the child
and its mother took hold of the Indian woman. By this time another
sister had stepped in, and she and Sister Hunt raised the Indian woman
up, for she had fallen over. They called on me to lay hands on her,
but I did not feel to do so at once. I told them to wet her face and
rub her hands. They did so, and she grew worse every minute, until I
administered to her, by laying my hands upon her and praying, rebuking
the evil spirits, commanding them in the name of the Lord to come
out of her and to depart from her and from that house, and from the
houses and homes of the Saints, and to get hence to their own home,
and trouble us no more. That moment the evil spirits left, and did not
return again. The three persons who were afflicted were perfectly well
next morning, and I never heard of their being afflicted afterwards.

There had been a number of cases where persons had been similarly
affected, and some of them were not healed until they had been baptized
seven times in succession, when they were permanently cured. Indeed,
there were very many remarkable cases of healing in San Bernardino
about that time.

On April 15th, my cousin, John M. Brown, learned that a man named
Lamper was going to start with the mail to Salt Lake City, and had only
four men with him. As that was too small a number to be safe, it was
ascertained that if he could have three or four more he would like it
very much. He told John M. Brown that if he would raise two or three
other men, he would wait at the mouth of the Cajon Pass for them.

As my cousin had never had any experience with pack animals, he told me
that if I would go with him and help with the stock and packs, for that
service he would furnish everything needed en route, he knowing that I
had had experience in that line, and in the handling of wild horses and

I accepted the offer, so we made ready, and were off on the 19th of
April. We overtook the party in waiting at the place agreed upon. The
animal provided for my saddle mule was wild, large and strong, and
given to jumping stiff-legged, or bucking, as it is called. It was a
hard animal to handle, and was successful in dumping its rider three
times in the fore part of the journey, to the amusement of his five
comrades. We had nineteen head of animals, and traveled at the rate of
fifty miles per day, for the first half of the journey, because our
route led us through a hostile Indian country.

We stood regular turns of guard, and all went well till the last day
before we came to the Muddy. That day we saw danger signs, of Indians.
I will say now, my friendly reader, if ever you travel in an Indian
country, and come to fresh Indian tracks, yet do not see an Indian,
then you may be sure that some red man wants a few horses and some
plunder, if, indeed, he does not want a scalp or two to hang to his
bridle-bit or surcingle. That was our danger sign, plenty of fresh
Indian tracks, where they had rolled large boulders into the narrow
passes in the road, or gorges where the road passed through. This
satisfied us that we were in danger of an unpleasant surprise, so we
examined every firelock, made sure there was powder in every tube, good
waterproof caps on, ammunition handy, packs securely bound, saddles
well girt, and every man prepared to act promptly in case of an attack.

At this time we were crossing from the Las Vegas to the Muddy. I
think the distance without water was sixty-five miles, so there was
no alternative for us but to press forward to the Muddy River, were
we arrived in safety about 4 a.m., watered our stock, and got a hasty
meal, giving our animals a very short time for rest and to feed.

At daylight we began to saddle up for another start. Just as we were
ready to mount, a large, stout Indian raised up out of the willows
within bow-shot, and hallooed. He had his bows and arrows in hand. At
that my cousin John leveled his gun on the red man, when I seized it
and forbade anyone to shoot, as others of the party had made ready for
the worst. At that moment the Indian held out his hand and came toward
us, as if to shake hands. Every man of the party but myself was ready
and anxious to open fire on the Indian, but I stood between him and
them until they had mounted. I told them if there was one shot fired
every one of us would be killed. The Indian said to me that he wished
to be friendly. Then I mounted and the party started, and at the same
time twenty-five or thirty Indians, all well armed, raised up out of
the brush within easy pistol range. My party again drew their guns,
when I told them to hold on, for the Indians were friendly, and their
object was merely to beg some food; but some of my party were hard to

As my companions trotted up, I fell back with the Indians, who talked,
and I began to understand them, although I had not been among them
one day. It was given me to understand them, and I told my companions
that I did so. I told them further, that I would stand between them
and the Indians, if they would not shoot. One said, "How do you know
that they are friendly if you have never been among them before? They
are following us up. Send them away, if you know so much about their

The Indians told me that when the sun got to such a position, pointing
to where it would be at about 9 o'clock a.m., we would come to a large
camp of Mormons and non-Mormons, with their families; that they had
horses, mules and horned stock, and wagons, also some sheep and goats.
There was a lot of Mexicans camped with them, and these had pack-mules.
This, and more, was told me in the Indian dialect, and was as plain to
my understanding as if it had been spoken in my native tongue; yet my
party were slow to believe, and some of them cursed the Indians, saying
that if the black rascals were friendly, why did they not go back,
instead of following us up. Being fearful that our party could not be
restrained much longer, I halted and talked with the Indians, telling
them I was afraid my friends would shoot them unless they fell back,
and ceased to follow up so closely. The Indians replied that I would
soon learn that what they had said was true, as they did not talk two

Just then we saw a Mexican come dashing down the hillside towards us.
When he came to us and shook hands, then confirmed what the Indians
had told me, my cousin John said, "I believe Jim does understand the
Indians, for he understands the Spanish language, and the Spaniards
have told him just what the Indians have said. I believe he is half
Indian, or he would not be so friendly with and understand them so

Soon we came to a raise, from which we could see the camps, just as
they had been described to us minutely in the morning, by the Indians,
who followed us up to the camps, and with pride pointed out to us
everything they had spoken of, saying, "We do not lie." I believe that
our party had become satisfied that the Indians had made the signs seen
on the road the day before, and then had laid in ambush to intimidate
us, that they might get something to eat, for they were very closely
run for food; again, it may have been that they meant more serious
things and were deterred therefrom by learning of the approach of the
company we found in camp.

At any rate we felt safer to lay by with the camp one day, and rest
ourselves and stock; then we proceeded over a big dry bench to the Rio
Virgen, then up that river and across another high plateau to Beaver
Dam. From there we crossed another high rolling country of some forty
miles or more, to Santa Clara. When we got half way across we saw
a signal smoke, apparently on the Santa Clara where the road comes
to that stream, or perhaps a little above. Feeling conscious of our
weakness, we watched the smoke with no little concern, and as I had had
considerably more acquaintance with the red men than any others of the
party, I told them that from the way the fire was managed there was
mischief ahead, and we must prepare for the worst. Our animals were
thirsty and well jaded, yet there was no choice for us but to brave the
danger ahead. Then the examination of firelocks and the cinching of
saddles was in order. That matter, however, was delayed so long as we
felt safe.

When the preparation was made, and the smoke had grown denser, we
advanced and saw that the streak of fire was in the narrows of the
canyon. It extended from cliff to cliff, and evidently was made
in a scheme of plunder or massacre, most likely both. Under the
circumstances, we were compelled to run the gauntlet, so it was hastily
decided for me to lead the way. I agreeing to do this if the party
would obey my orders, and not fire until I did, or gave the command to
them. If I gave the warwhoop they were to do the same. The first order
was to draw weapons for action, then charge with all possible speed.
Away we went, and as we neared the flames we chose the most open spot,
or that which seemed freest of fire. Although there was a continuous
stream of flames clear across the canyon, some places were freer than
others. We chose the place where the least fire was, the flames there
being not more than two or two and a half feet high. If the timber in
the canyon had been larger, it might have afforded the Indians a better
opportunity, but instead of secreting themselves in the bottom of the
ravine, they had chosen the cliffs on either side.

Just before we reached the fire, we urged our animals up to the best
speed, and, raising as big a warwhoop as we were capable of, and
brandishing our firearms in the most threatening manner, we dashed
through. At the same time, the Indians showed themselves in the cliffs
with drawn bows, trying to take aim through the timber. They answered
our whoop or yell, and gave chase, but they being on foot, and our
animals having become thoroughly frightened at the sudden change that
had taken place and with the evergoading spurs of their riders, rushed
on ahead. Though very thirsty, our animals never attempted to drink,
although we crossed the stream a number of times. For fully five miles
we never slackened our speed, the Indians keeping in sight of us for
fully that distance, when they gave up the chase. Then our stock and
ourselves quenched our thirst, and we continued on at as good a speed
as was consistent with our conditions. Finally we met Apostles Amasa M.
Lyman and C. C. Rich, with two or three wagons and twelve or fourteen
men, mostly mounted. As it was camp time, we made a joint camp, and
had no more trouble. If an arrow had been shot at us, we did not know
it, though there may have been a hundred or more. We did not think it
advisable to try to ascertain, as we felt that our scalps were more
precious than this information, or than money or horseflesh. It was
distance between us and the scalping-knife of the red men that we were
hunting for just then.

We stood double guard that night, and all passed off peacefully. Next
morning, each party proceeded on its way in peace, we to Cedar Fort, or
city, where we arrived May 5th, and met with many friends. We attended
meeting with the people, I was called on to give an account of my
mission, and did so.

On May 6th, we proceeded to Parowan, and as it was considered safe from
there on, my cousin John M. Brown and I stopped there with friends
we had not seen for years. The rest of the party, having the mail in
charge, went ahead, and we tarried one week, being royally treated. I
preached two or three times. We resumed the journey on the 15th. In
passing along, I preached in most of the towns where we stayed over

When we came to Lehi, I commenced to settle with the people whom I had
money for, then went on to Little Cottonwood and settled with more,
then to Big Cottonwood, where I found still others for whom I had money.

On May 22nd we arrived in Salt Lake City, and stopped with our uncle.
Alexander Stephens. On the 23rd, I called at President Brigham Young's
office and reported myself and mission. He received me very kindly, and
welcomed me home again. I also met Brothers H. C. Kimball and Jedediah
M. Grant, a number of the Twelve Apostles, and other prominent men. All
were very courteous, and expressed pleasure at my safe return.

On the 24th and 25th, I called and settled with all I had money,
checks, or drafts for, and I found them all well, and much pleased to
get the needed relief, financially. On the 26th, as I desired to go to
Ogden City, I called at President Young's office to bid him good-bye.
He kindly invited me to come to the stand in the Tabernacle on June
7th, to preach. I did so, though it delayed me in my intended visit to
my friends and relatives in Ogden City. When I filled that call, I was
honorably released from further labors in the missionary field at that
time. My mission had occupied three years and eight months, and cost me
every dollar that I had when I started out. I was then worth fifteen
hundred dollars in good property, which I spent; but I never regretted
it. The experience that I had gained I counted worth much more than the
money expended.



ON June 9, 1853, I started to Ogden City, afoot and alone. On the 10th,
I paid out the last quarter of a dollar that I had to the ferryman, to
set me across the Weber River, at East Weber. From there I crossed the
hills to my Uncle John Stephens', and found him and his family well and
pleased to see me. I reciprocated the pleasure, had dinner and a short
visit, then went on to Ogden City, where I again met with Cousin John
M. Brown and his father's family, and our two aunts, Polly and Nancy
Brown; as also more relatives and former friends, all of whom treated
me with much kindness, and as if the lost had been found.

The first Sabbath after my arrival in Ogden, I was called on to give
a report of my mission, and to preach. By doing this, there was a
great spirit of inquiry excited about the Society Islands and their
inhabitants. I found that scarce one in a thousand of the people
had the remotest idea of affairs on the islands I had been to. The
questions asked and the answers given were about like this:

Q. Where are the islands?

A. In the South Pacific Ocean.

Q. What are they like?

A. The spur of a mountain in a vast plain.

Q. What are the chief products?

A. Cocoanuts, oranges, lemons, limes, citrus fruits, arrowroot, sweet
potatoes or yams (a species of potato that takes about eighteen
months to mature), coffee, cotton, chili pepper, corn, rice, tobacco,
sugarcane; a root called taro grows in the swamps and somewhat
resembles the Indian turnip that grows in the Middle States, and on the
islands is cultivated for food, being one of the most staple products;
breadfruit grows in great abundance; there is a fruit called viapple
and another called doava, neither of which is of much importance. There
are also pineapples, bananas, and a fruit called feii which grows on a
plant like the banana, and is one of the best and most generally used
fruits there.

Q. Is the soil rich?

A. Yes; but this is limited to small strips along the coasts and the
water courses.

Q. What kind of a climate is it?

A. Very hot. Papeete, the capital of Tahiti, is in seventeen degrees
thirty-two minutes south latitude, and one hundred and forty-four
degrees thirty-four minutes west longitude, computed from Greenwich,
and if it were not for the frequent rains, southerly breezes, and the
constant trade winds, it would be almost impossible for human beings to
live there.

Q. What kinds of timber grow there?

A. Various kinds of scrubby timber not known in our country, chief of
which is hutu or tamana, an excellent timber for shipbuilding, and for
fine furniture; there is also sandal wood, the heart being of great
value, as it is used for perfume, and decorating musical instruments,
work-boxes, etc.

Q. Having given a brief description of the islands composing the
Society group, the Tubuoi and Tubuoimono archipelago, and of their
principal products, the next question was: What kind of people inhabit

A. They are very large in stature, are brave, and formerly were very
warlike. Their complexion is like that of the American Indian, and
their habits are much the same. They are hospitable to a fault. In
their heathenish days, they were idol-worshipers and very devout.
Originally, their government was patriarchal, but as they increased it
became tribal, then confederate. A district of country called monteina
would combine for war purposes, and finally would become a monarchy.
Thus they had their kings and queens, and began to have royalty. As
to other matters, there are no native animals, but of fowls there are
such as sea birds, and the common wild duck; also of reptiles, a small,
harmless, greenish lizard. The greatest insect pests are the nimble
flea and the common mosquito, in numberless quantities. Many years ago
the people had the smallpox, and as it was a strange disease to them,
and they were without the knowledge of how to treat it, they died by
hundreds, if not by thousands. As soon as they learned that it was
contagious, the people fled to the mountains, and there hid away until
their swine and chickens went wild, in which state these increased,
producing the wild boar and wild chickens, which are frequently
hunted by the people, and which, but for the rugged fastnesses of the
mountains, soon would become extinct.


I will leave that subject now and return to my own experiences after
getting home. I turned my hand to farm labor, and anything I could get
to do until the 6th of September. Then Major Moore, having received
orders from Governor Young to raise a company of men and send them
north to Fort Hall, to protect or assist a company there on some
business, called me to take charge of that company. When we were within
three hours of starting, the order to go was countermanded, and I
continued to work for two dollars per day until the 8th of October,
when, at a general conference, I was called, with several others, to
take a mission to the Indian tribes east of the Salt Lake valley.

Elder Orson Hyde was chosen to lead the company to somewhere in the
region of the Green River, select a place, and there build an outpost
from which to operate as peacemakers among the Indians, to preach
civilization to them, to try and teach them how to cultivate the
soil, to instruct them in the arts and sciences if possible, and by
that means prevent trouble for our frontier settlements and emigrant
companies. We were to identify our interests with theirs, even to
marrying among them, if we would be permitted to take the young
daughters of the chief and leading men, and have them dressed like
civilized people, and educated. It was thought that by forming that
kind of an alliance we could have more power to do them good, and keep
peace among the adjacent tribes as also with our own people.

It was known that there were wicked and cruel white men among the
Indians, working up the spirit of robbery and murder among the savage
tribes, and against the Mormon people. Our missionary call was to take
our lives in our hands, as true patriots, and head off, and operate as
far as possible against the wicked plots of white men who were trying
to carry their plans to success through the Indians, and possibly set
the savages on the war path, that the government might send troops out.
and thus make a better market for the schemers' herds of cattle and

From the October conference I returned to Ogden City, settled what
little business I had, and prepared for the mission, going to Salt Lake
City on the 15th, ready for the work assigned me. There I reported
myself, but the majority of the men who had been called at the same
time that I was were not ready until the 1st of November, when we met
in the Council House, and there effected an organization.

It was in the evening, about 8 o'clock, when we met. There were
thirty-nine men who reported themselves ready to start next morning.
November 2nd. Elders Orson Hyde, Parley P. Pratt and Ezra T. Benson,
of the Twelve Apostles, were present, and organized the company by
appointing Elders John Nebeker president and captain, John Harvey
first counselor and lieutenant and James S. Brown second counselor
and lieutenant. The captain and lieutenants were so that we might act
in a military capacity if necessity required it, and the president
and counselors were for ecclesiastical affairs. The officers were
blessed and set apart by the three Apostles named. The Apostles told
the members of the company that they would be blessed equally with the
officers if they would be prayerful, do their duty, and hearken to and
be united with their officers. We were also told that some of us might
have to take Indian wives.

On November 2nd twenty wagons, with one hundred and ten head of cattle,
horses and mules, were ready for a start. To each man there was three
hundred pounds of flour, seventy-five pounds of seed wheat, and forty
pounds of seed potatoes. Each man fitted himself up with such other
provisions and seed as he chose or could do. We started out at 1
o'clock p.m., and that night camped in Emigration Canyon.

We crossed the Little Mountain on November 3rd. Having to double teams,
we made slow headway, and only got to within four miles of the Big
Mountain. On the 5th, we crossed that, and camped at its eastern base.
The road was very bad, so that we made but few miles on the 6th, and
camped in the foothills, where our stock was attacked about 3 o'clock
a.m. by a pack of big gray wolves, which were so savage that every man
had to be called out to fight them. The night was very dark, and we
fired guns, built fires in a circle around the stock, and stayed with
them till daylight. Yet, with all that, some of the milch cows had part
of their udders torn off, while others were badly gashed as by a sharp
knife. By hard work we succeeded in preventing the wolves killing any
of our animals, and then got an early start on the morning of the 7th.

As we were heavily loaded, and the roads very rough, we did not reach
Fort Bridger until November 15th. At that place there were twelve or
fifteen rough mountain men. They seemed to be very surly and suspicious
of us and the spirit of murder and death appeared to be lurking in
their minds. Many of our party could feel that terrible influence and
made remarks about it. It was not long till we were informed by some of
the party at the fort that two men there had fought a duel the night
before with butcher knives, and both were killed. The others of the
party had dug a hole and had thrown both men into it as they had fallen
and died--clasped in each other's arms. Thus the gloom and cloud of
death that we had felt so plainly was partially explained. We passed
one and a half miles above the fort, and camped on Black's Fork. That
night it snowed about six inches.

We learned from the men at Fort Bridger that fifteen or twenty mountain
men had moved over on to Henry's Fork, and that the Ute Indians were
coming over there to winter. That was the place we were heading
for, and some of the roughest men of the mountains were claiming
that as their country. Our information now being that there was a
well-organized band of from seventy-five to a hundred desperadoes in
the vicinity of Green River, at the very point that we had hoped to
occupy with our little company, the situation was serious; and with
snow on the ground, to decide what to do was an important matter.
We broke camp and passed over the divide to Smith's Fork. There the
Spirit seemed to forbid us going any farther, and we held a short
consultation, which resulted in the appointment of a committee of five,
of which the writer was one.

This committee followed up the creek to a point where the water comes
down through the foothills, and there, between the forks of the stream,
selected a spot for winter quarters, and to build a blockhouse. Then
they returned and made their report, which was accepted by the captain
and his men. The camp was moved to the chosen ground on November 27th.
We at once pitted our potatoes, the committee named being retained
to draft and superintend the erection of the blockhouse. The writer
made the plans of the blockhouse, which was built with four wings, or
rooms, of equal size; these, uniting at the corners, formed a center
room, which was built two stories high. All the rooms were provided
with port holes, the center being used for storage, and the upper for a
guardhouse, from which the country around could be overlooked. The plan
being accepted, every man went to work with a will, and in two weeks
the house was ready for occupancy. This was not an hour too soon, for
the weather was very cold and threatening.

On the 26th, Captain Isaac Bullock came in with fifty-three men and
twenty-five wagons. When they joined us our company was ninety-two
strong, all well armed; and when our blockhouse was completed we
felt safer than ever. The work of building was continued until all
were comfortably housed in log cabins, and a heavy log corral was
constructed for our stock in case of an emergency.

We had not been settled down long, when some of the mountaineers paid
us a visit and applauded our energy and enterprise. Notwithstanding
that, we could easily discern a feeling of envy on their part. In
consequence, we did not feel any too safe, especially when the snow
became deep between our friends and ourselves, for we frequently
heard that the Ute Indians, then a very warlike and hostile tribe,
were threatening to come upon us from the east, by an open country.
Under the circumstances, we could see the wisdom of our military
organization; and as we had to have a regular guard, we found that
we must have a sergeant thereof; accordingly, the author was elected
to fill that position, and as we had several beef cattle and other
provisions in common, a commissary or quartermaster was necessary,
and the sergeant was called to fill that position also. We further
perfected our organization by electing a captain for every ten men.
We were also instructed to keep our firearms in perfect order, and to
have our powder dry, that we might be prepared for any emergency. Thus
provided for, we continued to get out fencing limber, and exploring
parties were sent out, which acted as scouts, and we learned the
resources of the country, and sought out every advantage.

It was on December 8 when Apostle Orson Hyde came into camp. He
preached to us that evening, and gave many words of encouragement. On
the 9th he examined our work and defenses. He was highly pleased with
the country, and applauded our choice of location; in fact, he seemed
generally well pleased with what we had done. He preached again, and
gave us much cheer and sound instructions. We prepared our mail in
answer to the one he had brought us, and on the 10th he set out on his
return trip, every one feeling blessed by his visit.

In our religious and social arrangements, we held regular meetings, had
lectures on different subjects, organized a debating society, and had
readings. On December 26, F. M. Perkins and a party returned from Salt
Lake City, bringing much interesting news, and also supplies of food.
On the 28th, the weather was so cold that we had to abandon outdoor

Wolves became troublesome to our stock, so we put strychnine and set
traps for the wild beasts, which killed several head of cattle and one
of the strongest horses in our band. The wolves were very numerous,
and when they band, as they do sometimes, and did then, it is almost
impossible for any kind of stock to escape without some loss. Yet, with
rifle, trap and poison, we kept about even with our ravenous enemies.

January 1, 1854, the weather was fine. On the 5th cold and storms came,
and we also heard more threatening news from the Ute Indians; but this
did not alarm us much, though it prompted us to increased diligence in
looking after our stock. There was some dissatisfaction about guard
duty, as some thought there was too much of it to suit them, and felt
that others should stand two hours to their one; but that was soon
settled and we continued our studies in the Shoshone Indian dialect,
having Elisha B. Ward, an old mountaineer and trapper, and his Indian
wife, Sally, to assist us. Then there was an Indian family of four who
got starved out and came to us for help. We took them in, fed them,
and gave them a room to themselves. Then Sally's brother, Indian John,
and his wife, Madam, came, so that we took them in and fed them. This
condition afforded us increased facilities for studying the Shoshone
dialect, which we carefully availed ourselves of.

About this time, Louis Tromley, a Frenchman, stabbed Samuel Callwell.
The affair took place near Fort Bridger. Callwell was said to be at the
head of the gang of desperadoes who plied their vocation from Bridger
to Green River, and back on the emigrant route to Laramie; he was a
large, trim built man, about six feet six inches tall, and very daring.
But after a bowie knife was plunged into his vitals he did not survive
long, dying in about twenty-four hours from the time he received the
fatal wound. Tromley was one of Callwell's band, and made his escape.
It was thought by some that if his victim had lived he would have made
trouble for us, but this quarrel gave the gang something else to do.

We continued our labors and studies; yet with all the opportunities
at hand, there were only about six of us out of the ninety-two that
made even fair progress in learning the Indian tongue. On February 7,
we received more mail. About the 22nd we lost many of our cattle from
starvation and cold. Deep snows fell, and drifted so that our houses
were completely buried, and from the south side we could walk right
up on top of our cabins, while on the north the snow drifted to the
tops of the doors, and packed so hard in one night that it had to be
cut out with the spade, the large chunks being laid back on the floor
until we could get out far enough to clear the houses. This condition
continued for many days. On March 8, the wind blew fearfully, and the
snow drifted so deep that we had to break snow roads, and then drive
our poor cattle and horses from point to point where the snow had been
blown off, leaving the grass bare. In this way many of our animals were

On the 12th of March, a party of fifteen or twenty Shoshone Indians
came and pitched camp close to the blockhouse. They were very hungry,
and we divided bread with them, that being the only kind of food we
had left; and in turn their presence afforded us better opportunity
to study their language and customs, a knowledge of the latter being
essential to the successful interpreter. On March 18, more hungry
Indians came. They appeared almost starved, and they begged until they
became a nuisance; yet we divided with them, and ran ourselves short
before our store could be replenished. On the 27th we turned out on a
general hunt for antelope; at this time we were living on bread and
water. Our hunt failed, as it was probable the starving Indians had
killed or run off all the game from that part of the country. On the
29th the weather was still blustery, with heavy snow. We cleared the
blockhouse, and had a jolly dance, to drive dull care away. There being
no ladies to join with us, we christened it the bachelor's dance.

April 1st came, and we cleared the snow and ice from our houses. On the
5th we received another mail from Salt Lake City, and on the 6th we
hoisted the first liberty pole that was raised in Green River County
to spread the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America to
the mountain breeze. On the 17th there was continuous snow and rain,
making very disagreeable weather. Committees were appointed to select
and stake off the farm land, the writer being on one of the committees.
We also placed out picket guards and chose men to herd our stock, and
corral them at night. On the 18th we started the plows, marking to each
mess their portion, as the committee had been directed to do. From the
23rd to the 26th we had cold, snowy weather.

On the 28th President Nebeker and C. Merkley started for Salt Lake
City, and on May 1st D. R. Perkins and some others left for their
homes. The rest of the company continued to plow and plant. On the 7th
it snowed, and on the 8th Apostle Orson Hyde came with twenty-five new
men, bringing us a fresh supply of provisions. This supply was very
much appreciated, for we were, and had been for some weeks, living
on bread alone. The new company also brought our mail. I had eleven
letters, all containing good news from home.

Elder Hyde preached to us on the evening of the 9th, and we had good
cheer; everyone seemed to be encouraged. We also held a council meeting
to select Elders to go to the Indian camps, and learn as near as
possible the feeling of the red men, and their movements, and to carry
out the object of our mission. In that meeting, Elder Hyde called on
the council for four or five Elders to volunteer to go east and hunt
up the Indian camps. There were seven volunteered, namely, E. B. Ward,
Isaac Bullock, John Harvey, J. Arnold, W. S. Muir, James S. Brown and
one other whose name I have lost. Elder Hyde said that E. B. Ward,
Isaac Bullock, and James S. Brown were three accepted from that list,
while James Davis was taken for the fourth. The persons named were then
sustained by the vote of the council, without a dissenting voice. Elder
Hyde gave us some instructions, and said the party would start in one
week from that day, or as much sooner as they chose.

The council meeting then adjourned, and Judge W. I. Appleby organized
the county of Green River by appointing the officers therefor, Mr.
Appleby having been duly commissioned as judge, and authorized to act
in the capacity in which he did.



ANOTHER meeting was held on the 10th of May, and Elder Hyde preached
again. Then he called on those who had been selected for the mission,
told us to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves, to be cautious
and do all the good that we could to the red men, and said that God
would bless us. He also said, "I do not know which to appoint for the
leader, Brother Brown or Brother Bullock. They are both good men, but
as Brother Bullock is the eldest, he may have more experience." He
then blessed us, and promised me in my blessing that angels should go
before me, the visions of the Lord should be open to my view, and no
weapon that was raised against me should prosper, but that I should go
forth in the power and demonstration of the Lord God, and be mighty
in gathering Israel. Then he further instructed the party, and turned
again to me, pronouncing more blessings in line with those he had
given. Elder Hyde then started on his return trip home, and we prepared
ourselves as speedily as consistent for our expedition into a country
mostly unknown to us.

April 11th and 12th were blustery, and there was snow. A reaction of
spirit took place among the brethren of the camp, or probably it would
be more proper to say that another spirit came upon the camp--a spirit
of great discontent. For a time it seemed as if it would break up the
mission, but finally it was overcome, and all went well again.

On the 13th of April we set out on our journey, and went to Green
River the first day, through rain and sleet part of the time. At
Green River we found about thirty of the roughest kind of mountain
men, engaged in drinking, gambling and carousing. Some Frenchmen,
Mexicans or "Greasers," Indians, half-breeds, and some Americans of a
low class, associated there, and insisted on us dining with them, and
were very hospitable. They warned us not to venture any farther in the
direction that we were going, saying that if we did so we would not
return alive--that there would not be a "grease spot" left of us. This
statement corresponded with what we had heard before, yet it did not
deter us. There were in the crowd, Joshua Terry, also four Spaniards
from the west, bound for Taos, New Mexico. They joined us, and we
crossed the river, which was so deep that it was all that we possibly
could do to ford it. The venture was harder than we expected it to be,
but we succeeded, and struck out for the head of Bitter Creek, via
Pilot Butte, making all the distance consistent with the condition of
our animals. When we reached Bitter Creek, we followed up to the head,
then bore to the southeast, crossing a high, dry country, for two days
without water, then came in sight of a small herd of buffalo.

The Mexicans, with Ward and Davis, gave chase to the herd, while
Bullock and I kept on our course with the pack animals, guided across
the plains by mountain peaks and openings in the range of mountains.
The hunters did not rejoin us until the latter part of the next day.
They succeeded in killing one poor buffalo bull, and were so thirsty
that they opened the tripe and drank the liquid it contained, to save
their lives, for they were so far gone as not to be able to bring any
portion of the carcass to camp. That day we came across a shallow pool
of water, where we rested a short time.

We had been told that by crossing the country in the direction we were
going we would be sure to strike the Indian trail leading in toward the
headwaters of the Platte River; consequently we continued on till we
came to the main divide between the waters of the east and the west.
There Joshua Terry and the Spaniards parted with us, and we kept along
on the divide, or summit of the Rocky Mountains, between the Platte and
the Rio Grande, while they passed over. That night we camped on the
divide, and had a snowstorm on us, in which we were fortunate, as by
that means we obtained water for ourselves and animals. The next day
we struck the trail of a few Indians, and by following it up five or
six miles reached another trail which it ran into. This we continued to
follow until 3 p.m., when we came to the camp of Washakie, the Shoshone
Indian chief.

The first Indian we met would not speak when we accosted him. He shook
his head, and pointed to the chief's lodge. That spirit of "mum" seemed
to pervade the entire camp, and when we rode up in front of the chief's
lodge, that Indian dignitary came out, bowed, and shook hands with each
one of us, but without uttering a word. By gestures he invited us to
dismount, come in, sit down, and tell the truth regarding our errand to
his camp, but no lies. Then he had some clean, nice robes spread for
us. At the same time his women folks came out, taking our horses by the
bits. We dismounted, and took seats as invited. The chief and ourselves
were all "mum" until the horses had been unsaddled, and everything
belonging to us had been put under the bottom of the lodge, just to the
rear of where we sat.

These proceedings being over, the chief said: "Who are you, from where
do you come, and what is your errand to my country?" Then, by gestures,
he said, "Tell me the truth; do not tell me any lies, nor talk any
crooked talk." Here he paused, and, by motions, invited us to reply.

We told him we were Mormons, from the Salt Lake country, sent by the
big Mormon captain, to make the acquaintance of him and his people,
that we might talk and be friendly with them, as we wished them to be
friendly with us and with all good people, as also with all the Indian
tribes, for we all had one Peap (father), and it was not pleasing to
Him to see His children nabitink (fight). We said the Great Father had
told our chief many things about all the Indian tribes, and one part
of our business was to learn better the Indian dialects, manners and
customs, so that we could tell the Indians what the Great Spirit had
told our big captain about them. Another part was to warn them that
it would not be many snows before the game of their country would
be killed off or disappear, and we wished to tell them, and to show
them how to till the earth, and raise stock, and build houses, like
the white man did, so that when the game was all gone their wives and
children would not starve to death. We said that some of us might want
to come out into his country and marry some of their good daughters and
rear families by them. We would educate them, so they could read some
good books that we had, and from them they could learn more about the
Great Father, or Spirit.

Washakie sat and listened very attentively until we were through, when
he said, "Wait a while. My little children are very hungry for some of
the white man's food, and they want some sugar."

At that we gave him all the bread and sugar we had. He passed it to
his wife, who in turn distributed it to the hungry little ones. Then,
without another word, the chief walked out, but soon returned. His wife
then set a camp kettle partly filled with buffalo beef that had been
partially dried.

If I should tell the stranger to Indian customs how it was seasoned, I
doubt not he would say. "I could not eat of such food. I know I should
starve to death first." But stop, my friend, do not be too positive
about that. These Indians have a custom among them that when they kill
a buffalo they skin it, leaving the carcass on the hide; then they
slice the flesh in long strips, remove the bones, turn the contents of
the tripe over the meat, thoroughly knead or mix it all through the
beef, and, with a slight shake, hang the meat on a horse rope or lay it
on some sticks for a few hours; then they put it into a camp kettle and
boil it, when it is ready for their guests. Such was part of the life
on the great western plains in 1854.

Supper over, the council of the camp began to file in; the pipe was
lit, and a rude figure of some of the planets drawn in the ashes of the
fire that occupied the center of the lodge. Then the old man sitting
on the left of the chief held the pipe, we having been seated on the
right of the chief. The latter commenced, and told the story of our
visit, from the time we came into the lodge up to that moment. It was
told without interruption, and then the pipe was started on its way,
following the course of the sun. Every man except the one holding the
pipe put his hand over his mouth, and sat perfectly silent and still.
The one with the pipe took from one to three long draws, allowing the
smoke from the last one to escape gradually through his nostrils, at
the same time passing the pipe with his right hand to the next person;
then, if he had anything to say, he did it in as few words as possible,
and put his hand over his mouth, thus signifying that he had no more to
say. Occasionally some old man, when he took the pipe, made some signs
above and in front of him, struck himself on the breast and offered
a few words of prayer. Thus the pipe was whiffed by all the Indians
of the council, and was then passed into the hands of the white men,
who, in turn, took a whiff as a vow of peace and friendship. Then
the pipe went to the chief, who glanced around the circle, and, as
every man's hand was over his mouth, the chief summed up the subject
in a few words, but always to the point. There being no appeal from
this decision, it is usual at the conclusion of councils for some one
present to walk through the camp and cry aloud that portion intended
for the public, or if it is an order for the whole camp, they get it in
the same way. This crier was called the high ranger of the camp.

In our case, the only objection that was raised to our proposition was
when we suggested that some of us might want to take some of the young
Indian women for wives. One old and wise counselor said, "No, for we
have not got daughters enough for our own men, and we cannot afford to
give our daughters to the white man, but we are willing to give him
an Indian girl for a white girl. I cannot see why a white man wants
an Indian girl. They are dirty, ugly, stubborn and cross, and it is a
strange idea for white men to want such wives. But I can see why an
Indian wants a white woman." Then the old man drew a graphic picture of
the contrast he was making, and we gave up that point without pursuing
our suit farther. Chief Washakie, however, said the white men might
look around, and if any one of us found a girl that would go with him,
it would be all right, but the Indians must have the same privilege
among the white men. With this the council ended.

At that time Washakie told us that only a few snows before then he was
chief of all the Shoshones, and the Indians acknowledged him as such,
but he was called to Fort Laramie, to have a talk with the agents of
the big father at Washington, and to receive blankets and many other
things. There the agents called a quiet, unobtrusive man, who never had
been a chief, nor was in the line of chiefs, and designated him as head
of the Shoshones, telling the Indians they must have him as chief, and
respect him as such, and that they, the agents, would recognize him in
that position, and through him they would do all government business.
Then the agents passed out a great quantity of blankets and other
Indian goods, through their appointed chief. In this act, the Indians
saw that the agents had chosen a favorite of their own, so the red men
called him "Tavendu-wets" (the white man's child), but never recognized
him as chief.

That act of the government agents was the opening wedge to divide the
Shoshone tribe into discontented factions, and thereby weaken it.
Possibly that was the purpose in view, for before that the tribe was
very powerful, with a chief at their head unexcelled for bravery, skill
and farsightedness. Chief Washakie was a bold, noble, hospitable, and
honorable man. As an orator, I think he surpassed any man I ever met.



THE morning after the council, Chief Washakie asked us where we were
going to from his camp. We said we wished to go to White Man's Child's
camp of Shoshones. Said he, "Maybe that is good, maybe not. I don't
know. I hear there are bad men over there. I don't know." As there
was no trail leading to that camp, we asked him to send a guide with
us. He replied, "Maybe one go." Our horses having been brought up,
we saddled them, and after a good friendly shake of the hand of the
chief and of some of his council, we started to the southeast, with a
young brave on the lead. When we had traveled about twenty miles, our
guide disappeared over a ridge, but as we had come to a trail it did
not matter to us so long as we could see pony tracks to follow. Still
a feeling of mistrust lurked within us, as it had done all day. We
discussed the matter, but could see no other way open than to press

Soon we ascended a hill, from the top of which we could hear a drum,
then many voices in a war song. As we rounded a little point of the
hill we saw numerous lodges, and what appeared to be thousands of
Indians. A large proportion of the latter were dancing and singing
songs. About this time we felt a heavy feeling, and were certain that
the spirit of murder was in the Indian camp. Everybody we met until we
came to the chief's lodge looked as if they were going to war, judging
by the expression of their eyes.

The chief came slowly out, coolly shook hands with us, ordered our
stock taken care of, and a dish of boiled meat set before us. Then his
family left the lodge, taking their effects, leaving only three robes
for us. The sun was just setting, and the chief said we could occupy
his lodge that night, as he was going away, being afraid to stop there,
as there were men in camp that he could not control. Then he walked off
and out of sight.

At this time three braves came by in their war paint, stepping along
very lightly, and stripped and armed as if ready for a fight. They took
a sharp glance at us, then passed on up the creek, to where the singing
and dancing were going on. Then war whoops rent the air, and we were
alone around the campfire.

There we were, surrounded by three hundred Indian lodges, and between
fifteen hundred and two thousand Indians, principally Shoshones,
though there were Cheyennes and Arapahoes mixed with them, for trading
purposes, we supposed. It was dark, our horses had been taken away, we
knew not where, and we were between four and five hundred miles from
any source of protection, so far as we knew. The chief had confessed
his inability to control some men in his camp, and had acknowledged
that he was afraid to stop in his own lodge, he and his family seeking
safer quarters. We were also without food, and the shadow of death
seemed to hover over and close around us, while the war song and dance
were heard plainly. We had also learned that L. B. Ryan, successor to
Samuel Callwell as chief of the organized band of desperadoes, was
at that time beating up and organizing a war party to carry on his
nefarious work of robbery, and that he had sworn vengeance on the first
Mormons that he met. We believed that he was the uncontrollable power
that the chief had referred to.

Under these circumstances, it was a grave question as to what we could
do for the best. Escape by flight was impossible, and as for attempting
to fight three hundred to one, that was folly. Then what should we do?
Put our trust in God, and go to bed, and if we were killed we wouldn't
have to fall. This was our conclusion, so we attended prayers, and
retired about 8 o'clock.

Soon the drum and some kind of whistle were heard drawing closer to
us. In a few minutes our outdoor fire was surrounded by L. B. Ryan and
seven young warriors, all well armed with Colt's revolvers. The Indians
had bows and arrows in hand, ready for action. Their paleface companion
undoubtedly was the leader.

After a brief pause, Ryan came into the lodge and squatted down just
opposite to where Bullock and I lay. He picked up a stick of wood, and
with a cutlass chipped off pieces and stirred up the coals, starting
a bright light. Then he said. "Gentlemen, where do you hail from, and
what is your business here?"

Mr. Bullock being spokesman, informed him that we were from Utah,
and our business in part was to get acquainted with the Indians, to
ascertain the openings for trade, and to look out the resources of the

Ryan continued, "Gentlemen, if you have got any papers for me, bring
them out. I have been robbed by the Mormons of my bottom dollar, and by
the eternal gods I am going to have revenge."

He then smote the billet of wood a heavy blow, at which signal the
seven braves filed into the lodge, and squatted in order, with bows
tightly corded, and arrows in hand. Ward, Davis, and I, were fully
prepared to meet the attack as best we could. Bullock having the
talking to do, was not so well prepared, until I rubbed his ribs with
my bowie knife handle, when he got ready as quickly as possible. There
were eight against four, all inside of one Indian lodge, watching for
the signal from Ryan, and we would have acted promptly on his signal,
or that of one of his braves, and without doubt would have got our
share of the game, in exchanging lead for arrows. It is possible that
Ryan took the same view, for he suddenly rose up and walked out, the
warriors following him. They closed the lodge door behind them, thus
giving us the opportunity to consult, while they held their council and
danced around the fire and sang.

We hastily concluded that if they entered again it would be to massacre
our party, and that if they began to come in we would fire on them the
moment they opened the deerskin door. I, being in the most convenient
position, was to give the first shot, presuming that Ryan would be
in the lead, and we would be sure to dispose of him in that way.
Meanwhile, all the rest would fire into the war party, whose shadows
could be seen through the lodge, as they were between it and a big
outdoor fire. The next move on our part was for Davis, who lay most
convenient to the back part of the lodge, to make with his knife as
large an opening as possible in the lodge, that we might escape through
it into the creek that passed near by, the banks of which were only six
or eight feet high. Our decision was that the moment we left the lodge
every man was to try and if possible make his escape, no matter what
the conditions might be, so that if either one of us could get away,
and tell where he last saw the rest, it might be some satisfaction to
our friends and relatives. Then each man took the most easy position to
act his part, made ready his firelock, and held it with finger on the

Just then the party outside came around in their dance circle, straight
for the lodge door, Ryan in the lead. They sang and danced right up to
the door, but did not lift it. Next they circled around the lodge, and
with their scalping knives, or some other sharp instruments, slit the
lodge in a number of places. Then, as they came around to the front,
they gave a war whoop, and passed up the creek in the direction whence
they came. Thus we still lived, and were spared the awful necessity of
shedding man's blood, even in self-defense, thanks be to God for His
protection and mercies. Still the clouds hung so low, and so thickly
around, that we could not feel safe in an attempt to leave camp.

Next morning the chief sent us some boiled buffalo beef, and called and
talked a few moments. He impressed us with the fact that the danger
was not yet over, and that we were safer in his lodge and camp than
we would be out of it, so we contented ourselves as best we could by
loitering around, while the drum and the whistling reeds of the war
party, and the wild shouts, continued all day. At last night came, and
we turned in, as we had done the evening before, with all our clothes,
arms and boots on.


Nothing occurred that night to mar our peace, but the ever threatening
din of the drum and the savage yell of the red man. Again the morning
light broke over us, and our scalps were still in place, but the very
elements seemed to say, "Stay in camp." The Spirit whispered to every
one of us the same thing. We were a unit, and therefore lingered in the
place, closely watching every move.

Finally the chief came, and our horses were brought. This was at about
1 o'clock p.m. Then, as plainly as ever we saw the clouds in the
firmament break and scatter, we felt the clouds of death begin to part.
We waited no longer; our horses were saddled, packs were put in place,
and the chief gave us a slight indication, letting us understand that
it was a good time to move. At that moment Ryan and his allies came up,
apparently changed in their behavior. Ryan inquired of us by what route
we intended to return. Mr. Bullock said we expected to go to Washakie's
camp, and thence back by the same route we had come on. Immediately the
chief stepped away into the brush, we mounted, and saying good-bye,
started down the creek.

A few moments later, as we rounded a bend, the chief popped out of the
brush just in front of and so as to meet us. Without seeming to notice
us in the least, he said, "Do not go the way you said you would, for
there are men in my camp that I cannot control." Brother Bullock did
not catch the idea, but the other three of us did. We understood his
action as well as his words. Soon we came to where we had got to decide
which course we would take. Brother Bullock was determined to keep his
word, and go by the route that he had told Ryan he would do, but the
three others were a unit in insisting on taking another way. We told
him we understood perfectly the chief, that if we went by that route we
would be ambushed, and every soul of us would be killed. Still Brother
Bullock insisted on keeping his word with the Indians; and more, he had
promised Washakie that he would return by his camp. Then Ward and Davis
came straight out and said they knew that meant death, and they would
not follow on that trail; so they started off another way.

At this juncture I said: "Brother Bullock, I never deserted my
file-leader in my life, and I will not do it now. I will follow you to
the death, for I am certain that path leads there, and if you persist
in going that way I will follow, and will claim my blood at your hands,
for the others, the three of us, see alike." Then Ward and Davis turned
and said that on the same conditions as those I had named they would go
with Brother Bullock; but the latter said the price was too great, and
he would go with us, but he very much regretted breaking his word with
the red man.

Every minute was precious at that time. We were well satisfied that
Ryan would not shrink to do from ambush what he had hesitated to do in
the chief's lodge, and that if he could strike our trail he would do it
to the death; so we made the best speed consistent with the conditions
surrounding us.

As we were passing up the long slope of the mountain, and while yet
almost in sight of the camp, a small, dense, black cloud arose in the
south. It passed in our rear and over the Indian camp, and torrents of
rain seemed to fall there, while we were caught only in the storm's
edge. Thus our tracks were completely obliterated. Soon we came into a
trail leading along our way, and followed it to quite a bold running
creek. As the rain had ceased where we were, to further elude our
enemies we followed up in the bed of the creek until we came to a rocky
ridge which led us up among the cliffs, where it would be difficult
for any one to follow us and make much headway. While there among the
rocks, Ward and Davis saw an old mountain sheep, which they pursued
and captured, but he fell in a place so difficult of access, and night
coming on, that it was impossible to get but a small portion of him.
Bullock and I kept on our course, and were overtaken by our companions
just at dark.

We pushed on as quickly as possible, for the rain was coming on in
torrents. At last the night became so densely dark that we could only
keep together by the noise of our camp equipage, and by talking. It was
impossible to see where we were going, so we camped in a sag. It rained
so hard that it was with much work that we started a fire, and then it
was quite as difficult to keep it going till we could frizzle a morsel
of the old ram; so each bolted his rations half raw, and having hobbled
our animals securely, we rolled ourselves in half-wet blankets and laid
down or the ground, which already had been soaked to the consistency of
mud, and we wallowed there until next morning. Then two of us brought
up and saddled horses, while the other two frizzled a little more of
the ram, which was bolted, as before, for it was too tough to chew in
a way anything like satisfactory. We then wrung our blankets, for they
were full of water, as in the place where we had laid down the water
was half shoetop deep.

By sunrise we were mounted, feeling satisfied that our track of the
day before had been covered up, and thirty miles of our flight was
behind us. The country was high and barren, but we avoided conspicuous
points, and traveled the most secluded way, ever on the alert to catch
the first sight of an enemy, or of any kind of game, for our portion of
flesh of the ram of the Rockies had disappeared.

In the after part of the day the sun shone. This was while we were
crossing the head of an open flat, in a dry country, with a dry gully
coursing down through it. This gully was fringed with an abundant
growth of sagebrush, and as we looked down the flat we saw some animals
coming out from a bend in the gully. We ascertained to our delight that
there were seven buffaloes. Our decision was to spare no efforts in an
endeavor to secure one of the animals, for this was a rare chance, as
the Indians had hunted every bit of game that it was possible for them
to do in that part of the country.

To accomplish our most desirable object at this particular time, Ward,
Davis and I secured our horses, leaving Bullock to guard them and
the pack mules. The three of us made our way down the gulch, and as
the wind came to us from the buffaloes, there was no danger of them
scenting us. Thus we secured an excellent position, and waiting a few
minutes for them to feed to within about sixty yards of us, we decided
on the one that had the sleekest coat, thinking he would be the best
beef; for all were very poor old bulls, and we did not wish to injure
more than we needed to keep us from starvation. We all took deliberate
aim, and three rifles rang out as one. The only result visible to us
was that the game wheeled, and ran directly on the back track, leaving
us without even a hope of buffalo meat until we followed on their trail
seventy or eighty rods. There we found where one animal had cast his
cud, and later we saw some blood splattered about. All felt sure we had
hit the buffalo, for each knew how his rifle shot, and said he never
drew a nicer bead on an animal in his life. Then Ward and Davis got
their horses and gave chase, as the game had run almost parallel with
our route toward the notch in the mountains for which we were aiming.

Bullock and I kept on the course our party had marked out to travel,
but before we reached the mountain pass we were heading for, night and
rain came on, and we had to camp in an open greasewood plain. Coming to
a very deep wash that had good feed in it, we concluded to hobble our
animals in the wash. It was difficult to get our stock in, as the banks
were very steep, but at last we succeeded in getting them down, and
felt that they were tolerably safe for the night, with some watching.
We gathered a little greasewood, for there was no other fuel, and tried
to get a tire started in the rain and darkness.

During this time, Bullock began to have cramps, in the stomach and
bowels, and then in his limbs, and soon he was taken with a heavy
chill. It seemed that he would die, in spite of all that I could do
for him. I rubbed him, prayed for him, and put him in a pack of wet
blankets, for we had no other, and were without any earthly comfort for
such an emergency. At last I caught some rain in the frying-pan, then
got hold of our cracker sack, in which was about two tablespoonfuls of
crumbs and dust that had rubbed off the crackers. I heated the water,
put the crumbs in, and brought the mixture to a boil, stirring it so
that it appeared something like gruel, and gave it to the sick man,
who became easier. Then I went out, feeling my way, to see what had
become of our stock, and got so far off in the darkness that I had
great difficulty in finding my way back to my sick companion, but after
much anxiety and bother I found him suffering intensely. I set to work
rubbing him and encouraging him the best I could. I spent the entire
night in attending to him and watching the stock.

Morning came, and still the hunters were unheard of. At one time I
almost despaired of the sick man's life, and thought, if he died,
what could I do with him, so far away from help. I could not take him
home, neither could I put him out of reach of wild beasts, for I had
no spade, pickaxe or shovel; nor was there timber in sight to cremate
him. I had not a mouthful of food, and what had become of our partners,
Ward and Davis, I could not tell. Then came the reaction of the spirit,
and the thought that I must do the best that I could. It would not do
to despair. I must pray for the patient, pack up, and get out of that

The patient seemed to rally with the dawn of day, and by sunrise we
were on our way, and entered the canyon we had been heading for. We
saw no signs of our friends until we reached their camp in the canyon,
for it had rained so heavily as to obliterate the horse tracks. As
they had gone on, we were not quite sure that it was their camp and
tracks, and the canyon afforded excellent opportunity for ambush. But
we were there and must go through. The sick man held up with wonderful
fortitude, though suffering greatly. About 2 p.m. we sighted our
comrades, the buffalo hunters. They mistook us for enemies and fled,
until they found a convenient place to hide themselves and horses, and
where they watched until they saw the gleaming of the sunlight upon our
rifle barrels. Then they recognized us, and as we came up we had a warm

Being together once more we hid our animals among the cedars, and
selected our camp with care, as it was night. Our hunters had been
successful, after a chase of ten miles, in getting the buffalo; they
had a hard and hazardous fight with the wounded animal, and it took
them till after dark before they could get what buffalo meat they could
carry on their horses. They also had a very severe night of it; but
the lost were found, and with plenty of buffalo meat in camp we were

We broiled and ate, boiled and ate and ate raw liver, and marrow out of
the bones; for be known that men in the condition we were, with severe
hunger, do not always realize how much they have eaten until they
eat too much. So it was with us. When we were through with the meal,
we prepared to "jerk" the remainder of the beef, but before that was
done my three companions were attacked with vomiting and purging; then
followed chills and cramps, and for about four or five hours it seemed
they might all die. I could not say which would go first, and the
previous night's experience was reiterated. I confess that I had been
guilty of as much folly and unreason as they, but being more robust
than the others, I could endure more than they; but I had the very same
kind of an attack as they did, before the journey was over.

When morning came, a sicker and a harder looking lot of men seldom
is seen in the mountains. Yet we must travel, so passed through that
canyon out onto an open plain, leaving the creek to the south of us.
In the afternoon we came to a smooth clay grade, on which were fresh
horse and moccasin tracks, and four large capital letters, in English;
I think they were N, W, H and E. We concluded they had been marked out
with a sharp stick, but not in a manner intelligible to us, so we were
suspicious and cautiously pushed on to a place of shelter and rest.

It was on the 1st day of June that we reached the Middle Ferry on Green
River, Green River County, Utah. There we met with W. I. Appleby,
probate judge, Hosea Stout, prosecuting attorney, William Hickman,
sheriff, Captain Hawley, the ferryman, and his family and some others.
They did not have to be told what we most needed, but supplied with
liberal hand our necessities, for all were aware that the object of
our mission had been to protect just such as they, and the innocent
immigrants, and their property, from not only the raids of the red men,
but also from the more wicked and baser white brigands.

We rested at Green River until the 4th of June, when my fellow
missionaries left for Fort Supply. I remained as interpreter, and to
fill our appointment with Chief Washakie, who was to be at the ferry by
July 15.



AS I had become a fairly good interpreter, the ferry company proposed
to pay my board at Green River while I stayed, as there was no one else
there who could converse with the Indians. The country was new and
wild, and while there were some very good people, the road was lined
with California immigrants and drovers, many of them of a very rough
class, to say the best of them. They would camp a day or two on the
river, and drink, gamble and fight; then the traders and rough mountain
men, half-caste Indians, French and Spaniards, were numerous; there
were also blacksmith and repair shops, whisky saloons, gambling tables,
and sometimes there would be a perfect jam of wagons and cattle, and
two or three hundred men. There were quarrels and fights, and often
men would be shot or stabbed. As the court had been organized only
about two months, it was almost impossible for the sheriff or any
other officer to serve a writ or order of court, unless he had a posse
to back him. Sometimes the ferryman at the Upper Ferry would be run
off his post, and a company of mountain men would run the ferry and
take the money, and it would require every man that was on the side
of law and order to back the officer. In this situation I, though a
missionary, was summoned to take charge of a posse of men to assist the
sheriff in making arrests.

One time there came a man with four thousand head of cattle. He crossed
the river, passed down about four miles and camped under a steep sand
bluff. He had missed a calf, and sent a man back for it. A small
party of Indians, passing along that way, had picked up the animal
and carried it off, supposing that the drovers had abandoned it. The
man who had been sent for the calf, not finding it, rode up to the
ferry and demanded the animal of the boatmen. These told him they did
not have his calf, whereupon he swore at them, called them liars and
thieves, and threatened to kill them, at the same time leveling his
double-barreled shotgun at them.

Judge Appleby happened to be standing within a few feet of the boatmen,
and heard the whole conversation. He ordered the sheriff to take the
man, dead or alive. The sheriff summoned me to his aid, and we started
at once for the culprit. When we got to within four rods of him he
called out, "Do you want anything of me, gentlemen?" The sheriff said,
"Yes; I am the sheriff, and you are my prisoner." The man being on
horseback, defied the sheriff and fled. We fired two shots in the air,
thinking he would surrender, but he did not, and the sheriff pressed
into service the horses of two immigrants near by, and he and I pursued
the fugitive, following him about four miles, where we suddenly came
upon his camp of twenty-four men, armed with double-barrelled shotguns.

The man having had considerably the start of us, had time to get the
camp rallied and ready for action, telling them that two men had shot
at and were then in hot pursuit of him. We were not aware of his camp
being there until we reached the brow of the bluff; then our only
chance was to ride boldly down into the camp, which we did, the sheriff
shouting, "Hold on, gentlemen! I am the sheriff of this county." The
captain of the camp, being a cool-headed and fearless man, said to his
men, "Hold on, boys, wait for the word."

The moment we got into camp we dismounted, and I presume that at least
a dozen guns were leveled at us, their holders being greatly excited,
and swearing death to us if we dared to lay a finger on the fugitive,
or on any other person in the camp. The captain, however, said, "Hold
on, boys! Let's hear what these men have to say." Then the sheriff said
the man (pointing to the culprit) had committed an offense against the
law, in threatening the lives of the boatmen, and leveling his gun as
if to carry out the threat, and the sheriff had been ordered by the
judge to arrest him, but he had defied the officer and fled. "But,"
said the captain, "you shot at him." To this the sheriff replied, "We
called on him to halt, and as he refused to obey, a couple of shots
were fired over his head to make him stop, but he did not do so, and we
followed him to your camp. I now demand him of you as his captain."

At this the captain declared that the sheriff had shot at his man and
had scared him almost to death. He pointed to the man, who was shaking
as if he had a treble shock of the ague, and continued that before
the sheriff should take him every drop of blood in the camp should be
shed. The men brawled out, "Hear! Hear!" when the sheriff said, "All
right, Captain. You may get away with us two, but we have between
seventy-five and one hundred men just over the hills here, and in less
than twenty-four hours we will have you and every man in your camp, and
your stock will have to foot the bill."

Thereupon the captain made response that he would come and answer
for his man, but the sheriff could not take him. Thus the matter was
compromised subject to the court's approval. The captain promised to be
at the judge's within two hours, and was there. So the whole matter was
settled without bloodshed.

This incident is only an illustration of what had to be met every few
days, in which men would refuse to yield to the law until they had to
do so or die, and many were the times that we had to force them down
with the revolver, when, if we had not had "the drop" on them they
would not have yielded. We met men face to face, with deadly weapons,
and if it had not been for the cunning and the cool head of "Bill"
Hickman, as he was commonly called, blood would have been shed more
than once when it was avoided. I speak of "Bill" Hickman as I found
him in the short time I was with him. In his official capacity he was
cunning, and was always ready to support the law while I was with him
on Green River.

One day about 10 o'clock a.m., a herd of four hundred head of cattle
came up, and the owners ferried their wagons across the river. Then
they tried to swim their cattle over but could not do so. I stood by
and watched their futile efforts until I observed the reason the cattle
would not go across. Then I attempted to tell the captain that he could
not swim his stock with the sun shining in their faces. The captain
being one of those self-sufficient men often met with, rather snubbed
me, saying, "I have handled cattle before today." I turned away,
remarking that he never would get his cattle across in that manner, and
saying that I could put every head over at the first attempt.

Some one repeated to the "boss" what I had said, and asked him why he
did not get that mountaineer to help, as he understood the business
better than anyone else on the river. "Well," he said, "we will make
another try, and if we do not succeed, we will see what he can do." The
trial was another failure. Then he came to me and said, "Cap., what
will you charge me to swim those cattle, and insure me against loss?"
I answered, "You have wearied your cattle and fooled them so much that
it will be more trouble now than at first, but if you will drive your
stock out on that 'bottom' and call your men away from them, I will
swim them and insure every hoof, for twenty-five cents a head." Said
he, "I will do it, for it will cost fifty cents a head to cross them in
the boat. So you will take charge of them on the 'bottom?'"

"Yes," said I, "so you do not let them scatter too much."

The river was booming, but I knew of a place where the bank was three
or four feet higher than the water, and where the stream ran swiftly,
setting across to where the cattle would reach a gradual slope. I then
went to a camp of Indians near by, and hired four of them to assist
me. They stripped and mounted their ponies with their robes about
them. One went between the cattle and the river, so as to lead, and
the others circled around the stock and got them all headed toward the
place designated for them to take to the water. Then they caused the
cattle to increase their speed until they were on the gallop, when the
Indians gave a few yells and shook their robes, the man in the lead
leaped his horse into the river, and every hoof took to the water,
and were across safe and sound within thirty minutes from the time
they started. The captain paid without objecting, and would have me
go over and take supper with him and his family. He said, "Aside from
having my cattle across safe and sound, I have the worth of my money in
valuable experience." Next day he was back over the river, and would
tell of the incident and say to the drovers he met with, "There is that
mountaineer. I am ---- if he can't beat any man swimming cattle that I
ever saw." And others would tell the drovers the same story.

Now, my friendly reader, I will tell you the secret of swimming horses
and cattle across a river. It is: Find a place (which you always can
do) somewhere in the bends of the watercourse, where you can swim
your stock from the sun, and where they take to the water the deeper
the better, even if you have to make them jump from the banks. The
swifter the current the better; then they are not so likely to injure
one another in jumping. Again, see that the outcoming place is on
a grade, and the water is shallow. Then have some good swimmer, on
horseback, take the lead; push your stock to a lively gait, and success
is assured. I had charge of swimming ten thousand head of cattle across
Green River, in the months of June and July, 1854, and never lost a
hoof, yet forced hundreds of them over banks eight to ten feet high,
into the water. In such case, the water must be deep, or we might have
sustained damage. I have found, as a rule, that nearly all men who have
much money or property think that they know it all, and are hard to
convince. But some of the drovers learned by object lessons, and almost
all of them thought they could swim their own cattle; and so they could
have done, if they had known the correct plan, or had made the effort
after sundown or before sunrise.

About the time set for his arrival, Washakie, the great Shoshone
chieftain, came in with seven of his braves, and quietly walked around.
First, he inspected the boat and its fixtures, or tackle; then he
went to the brewery, the bakery, store, court room, whisky saloon,
blacksmith shops, card tables, saw much money changing hands, and
observed that money would purchase about anything the white man had.

When the chief had had a friendly visit all around, he went to the
office of Captain Hawley, the ferryman. There he saw the captain taking
and handling considerable money, among the precious metal being two
or three fifty-dollar gold slugs. He asked for one of these, but the
captain laughed at him, and offered him a silver dollar.

This action offended Washakie, who walked away, and by some means got
hold of some intoxicants. Then he began to think what was going on
in the land of his forefathers, and came to me and said: "This is my
country, and my people's country. My fathers lived here, and drank
water from this river, while our ponies grazed on these bottoms. Our
mothers gathered the dry wood from this land. The buffalo and elk
came here to drink water and eat grass; but now they have been killed
or driven back out of our land. The grass is all eaten off by the
white man's horses and cattle, and the dry wood has been burned; and
sometimes, when our young men have been hunting, and got tired and
hungry, they have come to the white man's camp, and have been ordered
to get out, and they are slapped, or kicked, and called 'd--d Injuns.'
Then our young men get heap mad, and say that when they have the
advantage of the white man, as they have often, they will take revenge
upon him. Sometimes they have been so abused that they have threatened
to kill all the white men they meet in our land. But I have always been
a friend to the white man, and have told my people never to moisten our
land with his blood; and to this day the white man can not show in all
our country where the Shoshone has killed one of his people, though
we can point to many abuses we have patiently suffered from him. Now
I can see that he only loves himself; he loves his own flesh, and he
does not think of us; he loves heap money; he has a big bag full of it;
he got it on my land, and would not give me a little piece. I am mad,
and you heap my good friend, and I will tell you what I am going to
do. Every white man, woman or child, that I find on this side of that
water," pointing to the river, "at sunrise tomorrow I will wipe them
out" (rubbing his hands together). He went on: "You heap my friend; you
stay here all right; you tell them to leave my land. If they are on the
other side of my water, all right, me no kill them, they go home to
their own country, no come back to my land. Tomorrow morning when the
sun come up, you see me. My warriors come, heap damn mad, and wipe them
all out, no one leave."

"Good-by, you tell him, chief, he mad!" was Washakie's parting
exclamation, as he mounted his horse and rode away to his camp on the
Big Sandy, some fifteen miles back from the Green River.



AS might have been expected, I lost no time in apprising the people
of the Indian threat, and the white population promptly complied with
the order to move; so that by daylight there was little of value
on that side of the river. There was great consternation among the
people, and Captain Hawley was quite willing to send a fifty-dollar
slug to the chief; but it was late in the evening, and no one to go
but myself. There was no telling how much liquor there might be in the
Indian camp, so it was not a pleasant job for either friend or foe to
approach the savages on such a dark night as that was. Although I had
Washakie's promise of friendship, I knew that when the Indians were
drunk they were not good company, and I did not care to expose myself
to unnecessary danger.

Individually I had nothing at stake, but there were others who had
their families and thousands of dollars' worth of property at the
mercy of the enraged red men. In this crisis, when I was asked if I
would take the risk, and what amount I would give my service for, I
said I would undertake to go that night and attempt a reconciliation,
and charge fifty dollars, if they would provide me with a good horse.
That they agreed to do. The night was so dark, however, that it was
impossible to get hold of a horse, so we had to move all of value that
could be taken across the river. We also made every preparation for
defense that was possible during the night.

Next morning, true to his promise, Chief Washakie, with fifteen well
armed men, came up, just at sunrise. I went out to meet him, and found
him perfectly sober and friendly, as also his men. The chief rode up
and glanced at the desolate appearance of everything, and saw that
the women and children were greatly frightened. His companions sat on
their horses and looked across the river. Finally the noble chief said,
referring to those who had left their homes. "Tell them to come back.
We will not hurt them. We will be good friends."

Thus ended the big scare, and the people returned. But there was
another stir to come; for in a few days the ferryman from the Upper
Ferry, ten miles above the Middle Ferry, told Judge Appleby that a
party of rough mountaineers had driven him off, threatening his life
if he did not leave immediately. They had taken charge of the ferry,
and were running it and pocketing the money. There were twenty-eight
of them, determined "cut-throats," a part of the desperado band I have
referred to before. The judge ordered the sheriff to summon every
available man, and go at once and ascertain who the leaders were,
then arrest them and bring them before the court. There were only
fourteen men obtainable for the posse, and this number included the
ferryman. The sheriff delegated me to take charge of the posse and
go up on the east side of the river, ahead of him and the ferryman,
who would come up on the west side some time after, so as not to
create any unnecessary suspicion. He instructed us to be sociable with
the outlaws, treat and be treated, and join in any game that might
be engaged in. Said he, "We will get them drunk and divided among
themselves, and then I think we can manage them."

The plan was laid, and every man being well armed, we set out on our
hazardous mission. We had with us one man who could drink an enormous
amount of whisky and yet not get drunk, for he would turn around and
put his ringer down his throat and vomit up the liquor before it would
affect him much. He said, "Boys, I can make a dozen of them drunk,
and keep straight myself." He was asked how he would go about it, and
replied, "Well, I will offer to drink more whisky than any man on the
river, and we will drink by measure; then I will slip out and throw
it up. To hide the trick you must push me out of doors roughly, as if
mad. At other times jam me up in a corner, so I can throw up. Thus I
will have half of them so drunk that anyone of you can handle half a
dozen of them at once." His statement of his ability to drink and empty
his stomach of it being corroborated, he was assigned that part of the
strategy. Then another man, who had been a soldier in the Mexican war,
said, "Well, if you will get them drunk, I will win the money from
their own party to buy the whisky, for I know just how to do it." He
was given that part, for whisky was fifty cents a drink.

When we had perfected arrangements as far as possible, we rode up,
dismounting as if we had just happened to call and knew nothing of the
trouble. Each man took his part, and played it well. To our surprise,
we found their leader, L. B. Ryan, apparently in a drunken stupor; he
was the same person I had met in the Shoshone Indian camp, five or six
weeks before. As he and the sheriff had been on good terms, they drank
together and appeared to be quite friendly; but the ferryman and one of
the band of outlaws got into a fight, and revolvers and bowie knives
were drawn. Twenty-five or thirty of the mountain men, with deadly
weapons flourishing, rushed into the saloon in front of which the fight
began. One man slashed the other with a knife, and one of them fired
two shots, but some bystander knocked the weapon up, so it did no harm.
The prompt action of the sheriff and his supports, together with the
aid of a number of immigrants, stopped the row. If it had not been for
that, a dozen men might have been slain in as many minutes. Some of the
men were of the most desperate character, and swore and made terrible
threats of what they would do.

At last the combatants drank together, while a number of others got so
intoxicated they could scarcely stand alone. Then the sheriff called
Ryan to one side and quietly arrested him, placing him under ten
thousand dollars bonds for his appearance in court on a certain date.
The ferryman and some of the more moderate of the outlaws compromised
their difficulties, and business settled down to a normal condition. We
went back to the Middle Ferry, and the sheriff made his returns on the
official papers.

At the time appointed for Ryan to appear in court, he was there,
with seven young, well-armed warriors and a number of his band, who
sauntered around the court room. Ryan was so desperate and so well
supported by his clique that the court was glad to let him down and out
as easily as possible; for it was evident that the court must do that
or die. So Ryan and his gang returned to their haunts more triumphant
than otherwise.

So we had to deal with desperate men every day or two, and it was
seldom indeed that we could effect an arrest without a determined show
of arms. Yet, we were not compelled to use them. The offenders must
see that we had them, and had the nerve to use them, before they would
yield. In one instance I was ordered by the sheriff to take a man who
had broken from the officer. The man was running, and I followed,
revolver in hand. As the fugitive ran, he drew his weapon and wheeled
around. I was so near as to place my revolver uncomfortably close to
his face before he could raise his weapon. He saw at once that I had
the "drop" on him, as we used to say, and delivered his revolver to
me. The next moment the sheriff and posse had their backs together and
weapons raised, while twenty-four armed men appeared on the scene and
demanded the man. But when they looked into the muzzles of fourteen
Colt's revolvers with bright, shining, waterproof caps exposed, and the
sheriff called out in a firm and decisive voice, "I am the sheriff of
Green River County, and have a writ for this man," they paused, though
some of them swore the officers could not take the man from camp, and
advanced in a threatening manner. Then the sheriff commanded, "Halt!
The first man that advances another step, or raises his weapon, is a
dead man. Stand! I, as sheriff, give you fair warning." At that some of
the more cautious said, "Hold on, boys! We must not oppose an officer,"
and all concluded they must give up the man and submit to the law for
that time. The offense of the accused was shooting the ferryman's dog,
while the latter was eating something under the table, and while the
ferryman's wife and daughter were standing at the table washing dishes;
and when the ferryman remonstrated at such conduct, threatening to
shoot him. Ultimately the matter was compromised, the culprit and his
friends paying the costs.

On the 7th of July, I began preparations to return to Fort Supply, as
my real missionary labors seemed to have come to an end in that part,
and I was glad of it. From May 13 to July 8, 1854, had been one of the
most hazardous, soul-trying, disagreeable experiences of my life, for
the short period it occupied. I have written a very brief synopsis
of it in the foregoing account; for it might seem impossible to the
person of ordinary experience for so many thrilling incidents as I had
witnessed to happen in so short a time.



ON July 9, I started for Fort Supply, arriving there on the 11th, where
I found all well. On the 14th I began a journey back to Green River,
but met Porter Rockwell at Fort Bridger. He had a license from Governor
Brigham Young for me to trade with the Indians; also some two or three
thousand dollars' worth of Indian goods for me to market. At that time
there was no opportunity to trade, as the Indians had disposed of their
robes, pelts and furs for the season, so we sent the goods to Fort
Supply and had them stored there.

I accompanied Rockwell to Salt Lake City, arriving there on July 19. We
reported conditions to the governor, who received us very kindly, and
approved of what we had done. On August 15 I went to Ogden City and on
the 28th accompanied Governor Young, as interpreter, to Chief Catalos'
camp of Shoshones, four miles north of Ogden. This large camp of
Indians had some grievances to settle, and particularly desired to ask
favors and get a better understanding with the white men through their
big chief. The Indians claimed that they were friendly to the whites,
and wanted the latter to be friendly to them; they also wished to have
trade brought to them. The governor gave them a liberal present of
assorted Indian goods, talked friendship, and told them he would leave
other goods with me to trade. He also advised them to be good people,
and to live at peace with all men, for we had the same great Father.
Governor Young told them it would be good for them to settle down like
the white man, and learn of him how to cultivate the land as he did,
so that when the game was all gone they could live and have something
to eat and to feed their families on. The Indians said this was "heap
good talk," and their hearts felt good; so we parted with them in the
best of feelings, notwithstanding that some of their bad Indians had
stolen my only horse from where I had picketed him on the bottoms. I
did not learn the facts in the case in time to get redress, and all the
consolation I could obtain was that the thief did not know it was my
animal--"heap no good Indian steal your horse."

I returned to Ogden City, and there continued to trade with the Indians
as they came, until October 10, on which date I received a letter
from Elder Orson Hyde, stating that Governor Young wished me to go on
a mission among the Shoshones that winter. I answered the call, but
when I got to Salt Lake City, on the way, it had been learned that the
Indians had gone out so far into the buffalo country that it was not
advisable for me to follow them; so I returned to Ogden and continued
to visit and trade with the Indians, and got up my winter's wood.

On November 20 Wm. Hickman, L. B. Ryan and D. Huntington came up from
Salt Lake City with an order to Major Moore and the citizens of Weber
County to disarm Chief Little Soldier and his band of Indians, and
distribute them among the families in Weber County where the people
were best able to feed and clothe them for the winter, and set them
to work; for they had become very troublesome to the citizens of that
county, by killing cattle, burning fences, and intimidating isolated
families. On the 30th the major called on me to go with his party to
the Indian camp at West Weber. I did so, and with considerable talking
we got the Indians to accompany us to Ogden City. Still, they felt very
warlike and stubborn, being unwilling to give up their arms.

In the midst of the parley, the three men from Salt Lake City returned
to that place, and the Indians were allowed to go with their arms
across the Ogden River and camp among the willows near Mound Fort. On
December 1st we went after them, finding them so hostile that we had
to make a show of arms before they would submit to our proposition of
distributing them among the whites, but when we brought a squad of
armed men they very reluctantly and sullenly complied, so we marched
them back to Ogden City, to a location on Main Street, near where the
old tithing office stood. Almost every man that had side arms was
called to mingle among the Indians, so that each man could command a
warrior by disarming him by force if he refused to surrender his arms
at the command of the major, which command I was required to repeat
in the Indian dialect. At the word, each man was to take hold of an
Indian's gun, and I was to tell the aborigines to surrender; but there
was not a man who obeyed the order, for what reason I do not know. I
then went through the crowd of Indians and took every weapon with my
own hands. The white men took them from me, and they were stored in the
tithing office, a guard being placed over them.

Just then a young Indian was observed on horseback, going northward
as fast as his horse could carry him. Some one said, "There goes that
Indian boy to warn a camp over by Bingham Fort!" Major Moore had one of
the fastest animals in the county; he ordered me to "take her and beat
the boy into camp, or run her to death. Don't spare horseflesh. Call
out the citizens and disarm every Indian you find."

I obeyed the order, and found a small party of Indians camped in the
center of what was called Bingham Fort. Just as the Indian boy reached
the camp, I entered the east gate of the square, and rode to the west
gate, shouting to the people, "To arms! To arms! Turn out, every man,
and help to disarm the Indians!" Men turned out quickly and surrounded
the camp. I succeeded in reaching the west gate just in time to wheel
and grab a big Ute's gun as he was trying to pass me. He held to it
firmly, and both struggled with a death-like grip. We looked each other
squarely in the eyes, with a determined expression. At last his eyes
dropped, and his gun was in my possession. He was full of wrath and a
desire for vengeance. I found him to be one of the strongest men I had
ever grappled with anywhere.

I next turned to the camp and disarmed all the Indians in it, placed
their weapons under guard and sent them to Ogden, then vainly tried
to talk the red men into reconciliation. I next returned to Ogden,
and there found the whites and Indians on the streets, the latter as
discontented as ever. The major and I tried to pacify them, but they
were very stubborn and sullen. At last the chief's brother said, "Here
are my wife, my children, my horses and everything that I have. Take
it all and keep it, only give me back my gun and let me go free. I
will cast all the rest away. There is my child," pointing to a little
three-year-old, "take it." The little innocent held up its hands and
cried for the father to take it, but he frowned and looked at it as
with a feeling of disgust, saying, "Go away. You are not mine, for I
have thrown you away, and will not have you any more."

This spirit was but a reflex of that which animated the whole band;
"for," said they, "we are only squaws now. We cannot hunt or defend our
families. We are not anybody now." But finally, though very sullenly,
they went home with the whites and pitched their tents in the back
yards. To us it did seem hard to have them feel so bad, but they had no
means of support for the winter, the citizens could not afford to have
their stock killed off and their fences burned, and it was the better
policy to feed the Indians and have them under control. They could husk
corn, chop wood, help do chores, and be more comfortable than if left
to roam; but for all that, they were deprived of that broad liberty to
which they and their fathers before them had been accustomed, therefore
they felt it most keenly. As I was the only white man who could talk
much with them, I was kept pretty busy laboring with them.

In the evening of December 3rd the Indians had a letter from Governor
Young. I read and interpreted it to them. Then for the first time they
seemed reconciled to their situation. Their chief was filled with the
spirit of approval of the course that had been taken with them, and he
preached it long and strong. After that, the Indians and the citizens
got along very well together, and I continued teaching and preaching to
the former.

December 5th I took up school and taught the Indian language, or rather
the Shoshone dialect. I had about thirty male adults attending. Brother
George W. Hill, who afterwards became the noted Shoshone interpreter in
Weber County, was one of them.

I was very much prospered that winter, purchased a city lot and quarter
of another on Main Street, fenced the lot, closed my trading with the
Indians, and settled with D. H. Wells for the goods I had had.



AT a general conference held in Salt Lake City, April 6, 1855, I was
again called to go east among the Indians, to labor with and for them.
I was appointed by President Brigham Young to take the presidency of
the mission among the Shoshones. At this call I hastened to provide
as comfortably as possible for my family, and to fit myself for the
mission assigned me.

I set out on May 8, 1855, in company with four other Elders, going
east via Salt Lake City. I drove one of the two teams, to pay for the
hauling of my baggage, as I had no team of my own. On the 10th we
reached Salt Lake City, and left the same day. On the 11th we overtook
another wagon and two of our fellow-missionaries. We arrived at Fort
Supply on the 17th, having had a pleasant trip. We found seven Elders
planting the crop. On the 18th we joined them in the work of plowing
and seeding, and repairing the stockade and fences. On the 29th, eight
of us fitted up a four-horse team and wagon and six saddle horses
and started for the Shoshone camps, which we had heard were on the
headwaters of either the Green or the Snake River. On June 1st we came
to a tributary of the Green River, called the Fontenelle. There we
rested one day, then moved camp up to the mouth of the canyon.

On the 3rd of June, E. B. Ward, Joshua Terry and I crossed over the
divide between the Green and Snake Rivers, leaving Elder George W.
Boyd in charge of camp. The three of us went along the western slope,
passing one lodge of friendly Indians. On the 5th we came to Siveadus'
camp of twenty lodges. He and his people were very cool towards us,
so we proceeded to a stream called Piney, and up that to the top of
the divide, from where we could see to the head waters of the Wind
River. Having been told that Washakie and his camp were somewhere on
the headwaters of Horse Creek, we made for that point, traveling over
snowdrifts that we supposed were fifty feet deep. The descent was very
steep, and in some places rather dangerous. That night our coffee
basins, that were left standing half or two-thirds full of water, had
become frozen solid; and the weather seemed seasonable for Christmas.

We suffered much with cold until 10 o'clock a.m., on the 7th of June.
We turned northeast, and came onto Horse Creek, camping just below
its mouth, under a high, steep bluff, in a fine grove of cottonwoods.
Everything seemed deathly still. We were in the borders of the Crow
and Blackfeet Indians' country, with jaded horses, so that if we were
discovered it would be impossible to escape. We began to feel a little
concern for our scalps, for we were aware that both the Crows and the
Blackfeet were hostile. We gathered our wood, taking care that no
branch or anything connected with our fire would make much blaze or
smoke, lest by it we should be discovered. Everything being placed in
the best possible position for flight or fight, as might seem best if
emergency should arise, we rested there that night; and something told
us we should not go farther north, but that south should be our course
in the morning.

Early the following morning, about 3 o'clock, I dreamed that I saw a
large band of Indians come down and pitch camp on the creek above us.
I was so forcibly impressed that I awoke the other two men, and told
them I felt confident that the dream was true, and that we would prove
it at daylight. They agreed with me, so I told them to make as dark a
fire as was possible, and to get breakfast, while I would go on the
high bluff that overlooked camp and the country adjacent, where I would
watch everything that moved, and if there were friends or foes in the
country we would see them or their lights before they should see ours.
We all arose at once, the others preparing the meal and saddling the
horses ready for a hasty move, while I went up on the bluff and there
kept a sharp lookout until the dawn. At the first streaks of daylight I
saw a blue smoke creeping up through the willows, perhaps a mile and a
half above me, then another and another, until it was plain there was
a camp of Indians just where I had dreamed they were. Soon the tops of
lodges appeared, then a band of ponies was driven up. By this time it
was fairly daylight.

I reported to the others what I had seen, and we took breakfast. By the
time the sun cast his earliest rays over the landscape, we were in the
saddle. Then came the question, what shall we do? To flee was folly,
for it was not likely that we would escape the ever vigilant eye of
the red man, in an open country like that was. We decided to ride out
boldly on the open bench, and go straight to their camp. No sooner had
we done so than we were discovered, and some twenty or more warriors
started to encircle us, but we rode direct for the camp without showing
any concern.

Soon we were completely surrounded by a score of armed warriors in full
costume of war paint; as these closed in their circle, they saluted us
with a war-whoop. Some had "green" scalps hanging from their bridle
bits, while others had them suspended from their surcingles. As the
warriors drew nearer to us it became evident that they were of the
Shoshone tribe, but we could not recognize any one of them, and they
did not appear to recognize us. When we spoke to them and offered to
shake hands, they shook their heads and pointed us to the camp, while
they proudly escorted us there, some going before us and clearing the
way up to the lodge of Washakie, their chief, who, with some of his
leading men, stood waiting to receive us. As we rode up, Washakie and
his associates stepped forward, and in a very friendly manner shook
hands. By gestures they said, "We are moving camp, and you will go
and camp with us tonight. Then we will hear what you have to say.
We fell in with a war party of Crows and Blackfeet yesterday, and
defeated them, and now we are fleeing to a safe place for our women
and children, lest they get reinforcements and come upon us and our
families;" then with a motion, the chief said, "Forward," and soon the
whole band was on the move.

We estimated that the Indians numbered about three thousand all told,
and there was a pony for every soul; they were well supplied with
rifles, Colt's revolvers, bows, arrows, shields and some cutlasses,
and large, heavy knives. They were excellently mounted, and their
discipline could not well be improved for the country they were
passing over and the force they were most likely to fall in with.
Their flanking party was so arranged as to act as a front guard, and
at the same time drive all the game into a circle and thence into a
second circle, so that everything, down to the smallest chipmunk and
squirrel, was bagged. This was over a strip of country about eight
miles by thirty; and the pack of sagehens and squirrels that was
brought into camp was astonishing. The old and middle-aged men formed
the rear guard, while the whole female portion of the camp drove the
pack animals. The chief and his most confidential advisers rode just in
front of these, and we were called to be a part of the escort.

When all was on the move, the camp made quite a formidable appearance.
It looked to us as if the shrubbery on our way had changed suddenly
into a moving army, what with people and ponies all moving up hill and
down, over the rolling country, to the south, between the high Snake
and Wind River ranges of the great Rocky Mountains. We thought of
ancient Israel, of the Ten Tribes coming from the north country, and of
the promises that had been made to the Indians by the prophets of their

To us this was a great day of thought and meditation, for at times it
seemed to us that we could see the opening glories of a better day, and
could almost declare, "Now is the dawn of the day of Israel," for we
had a letter from that modern Moses, President Brigham Young, to read
and interpret to the red men, and also the Book of Mormon to introduce
to them that very evening, for the first time; and the question
uppermost in our minds was as to whether they would receive it or not,
for there were many hard looking countenances in the throng, and we
could see plainly from their frowns that they were not at all friendly
to us.

When we had traveled till about 3 o'clock p.m., camp was made in
a lovely valley. The chief's lodge was first pitched, clean robes
spread, and we were invited to take seats thereon. Our horses, packs
and all, were taken charge of by the women of the camp, just where we
dismounted, and we had no more to do with our animals until we had use
for them next day.

A little fire having been built in the center of the lodge, the
councilors began to file into their places, each very quietly shaking
hands with us, some of them very coldly. When all was quiet, the chief
said, by gesture, "Now tell us what you have to say. Tell it straight,
and no crooked talk, for we do not want any lies, but the truth." It
seemed to us that they were ready for square work, so, with as few
words as possible, we told Washakie we had a letter from the big Mormon
captain to him and his people. Then he said, "Tell us what it says,"
and between the three of us we could tell him every word.

I am sorry that I have not at hand the full text of the letter, but
it was a very friendly document, and, so far as I can now remember,
told them that President Young had sent us to Washakie and his people
as their friends, that we were truthful and good men, who would tell
them many good things about how to live in peace with all people;
that President Young and the Mormon people were true friends to the
Indian race, and wished them to be our friends, that we might live in
peace with each other, for it would not be many years before all the
game would be killed off or driven out of the country, and the white
men would want to come and settle in the land; that if the Indians
would settle down and build houses like the white man, and cultivate
the land as the white man did, when the game was gone they and their
families would have something to eat. President Young proposed to
furnish seed and tools, and some good men to show and help the Indians
to put in their crops. The letter further said that after a while,
when we understood each other better, we would tell them about their
forefathers, and about God; that we had a book that told a great many
things regarding the Great Spirit's dealings with their forefathers,
and what He would do for them and their children. Then we presented the
Book of Mormon to Washakie, while his lefthand man filled the pipe and
drew a rude figure of the sun, in the ashes of the smouldering fire;
he also muttered a few unintelligible words, smote his chest with his
hand, took a whiff or two from the pipe, passed it to the next man on
his left, and reached for the book; he opened it and said it was no
good for them--that it was only good for the white man.

In that same order the pipe and book passed around the circle
twenty-one times, and each time the Indian made a new figure in the
ashes, each representing a different planet. During the whole time only
one man spoke at once. One said, "This book is of no use to us. If the
Mormon captain has nothing better to send than this, we had better send
it, his letter, and these men, back to him, and tell him that they
are no good to us, that we want powder, lead and caps, sugar, coffee,
flour, paints, knives, and blankets, for those we can use. Send these
men away to their own land."

Another of the council, when it came to his turn, said, "We have no use
for this book. If the paper were all cut out and thrown away, we could
sew up the ends and put a strap on it, and it would do for the white
man's money bag; but we have no use for it, for we have no money to
put in it." He could not understand what good it was to the Shoshone,
and said, "Let the white man take it and go home, and come back with
something that we can eat, or use to hunt with."

These were the sentiments expressed by the members of the council. But
Washakie had not yet spoken, and we anxiously awaited his decision.



THE book passed around the entire circle without a solitary friend,
and came back to our hands. The chief reached for it, and when he got
hold of the volume he looked at and opened it, turned leaf after leaf
as readily as though he had been accustomed to books, then straightened
to his full height as he sat there, and looked around the circle. "Are
you all done talking?" he asked. Seeing every man with his hand on his
mouth, he spoke: "You are all fools; you are blind, and cannot see;
you have no ears, for you do not hear; you are fools, for you do not
understand. These men are our friends. The great Mormon captain has
talked with our Father above the clouds, and He told the Mormon captain
to send these good men here to tell us the truth, and not a lie. They
have not got forked tongues. They talk straight, with one tongue, and
tell us that after a few more snows the buffalo will be gone, and if
we do not learn some other way to get something to eat, we will starve
to death. Now, we know that is the truth, for this country was once
covered with buffalo, elk, deer and antelope, and we had plenty to eat,
and also robes for bedding, and to make lodges. But now, since the
white man has made a road across our land, and has killed off our game,
we are hungry, and there is nothing for us eat. Our women and children
cry for food, and we have no meat to give them. The time was when our
Father who lives above the clouds loved our fathers who lived long ago,
and His face was bright, and He talked with our fathers. His face shone
upon them, and their skins were white like the white man's. Then they
were wise, and wrote books, and the Great Father talked good to them
but after a while our people would not hear Him, and they quarreled and
stole and fought, until the Great Father got mad, because His children
would not hear Him talk. Then He turned His face away from them, and
His back to them and that caused a shade to come over them, and that
is why our skin is black and our minds dark." Stripping up his shirt
sleeve, he continued: "That darkness came because the Great Father's
back was towards us, and now we cannot see as the white man sees. We
can make a bow and arrows, but the white man's mind is strong and
light." Picking up a Colt's revolver, he went on: "The white man can
make this, and a little thing that he carries in his pocket, so that
he can tell where the sun is on a dark day and when it is night he can
tell when it will come daylight. This is because the face of the Father
is towards him, and His back is towards us. But after a while the Great
Father will quit being mad, and will turn His face towards us. Then
our skin will be light." Here the chief showed his bare arm again, and
said: "Then our mind will be strong like the white man's, and we can
make and use things like he does."

The chief next drew a strong contrast between the Indian's way of
living and the white man's, telling his people that the mode of the
white man was far preferable to that of the Indian. He also told them
that the Great Father had directed "the big Mormon captain to send
these men to us to talk good talk, and they have talked good, and made
our hearts feel very glad, and we feel that it is good for them to come
and shake hands. They are our friends, and we will be their friends.
Their horses may drink our water, and eat our grass, and they may sleep
in peace in our land. We will build houses by their houses, and they
will teach us to till the soil as they do. Then, when the snow comes
and the game is fat, we can leave our families by the Mormons, and go
and hunt, and not be afraid of our families being disturbed by other
Indians, or by anybody else, for the Mormons are a good people. Let
these three good men go, and find a good place for us to live, close
by where they live; and after a while we will come, and they will show
us how to build houses, for they are our good and true friends, and
we wish they would go home, and bring some blankets, powder and lead,
knives, paints, beads, flour, sugar and coffee, to trade for our furs,
pelts and robes."

Washakie spoke thus with great power and wisdom, while his wise old
councilors sat with their heads bowed, and their hands over their
mouths, only grunting assent to the strong points of his powerful
speech, of which this account is only a brief synopsis.

No vote was taken, but seemingly every man gave his assent to the
chief's decision, by a grunt of approval. Then each man quietly
withdrew, and a kettle of boiled antelope meat was set before us. The
chief had a separate dish put before him. Then we retired for the night.

The camp was almost destitute of food, notwithstanding the squirrels
and sagehens that had been taken the day before. The whole camp was
hungry, and the last morsel of our provisions was gone, so next
morning, June 9th, we left camp, having a very scant breakfast of meat;
but we had introduced the Book of Mormon, and had had the pleasure of
having it received favorably by Washakie, the great Shoshone chief, and
his council, as the history of their forefathers. The chief said the
wolves had written that book when they were men, but had since been
turned into wolves; that being an ancient tradition among the Shoshones.

We rode hard all day the day that we left the Shoshone camp, and at
sundown camped by a mountain leek spring, without a bite to eat. Nor
had we had anything to eat at dinner time; so we made our supper of
mountain leeks. Next morning, the 10th, we had leeks for breakfast,
and at sunrise we were in the saddle, and on our way back to where we
had left the other brethren. I was on the lead, with a double-barreled
shotgun before me. We had not gone very far before a blue mountain
pheasant flew up from under my horse's head, and lit in the trail a few
yards in front. I shot it so quickly that I never thought of my horse
being frightened. Another man jumped from his saddle, and had the bird
skinned before the blood had stopped flowing, while the other built a
fire. The pheasant was broiled and eaten before the animal heat could
have gone out of it, if it had been left where it was shot. Then we
traveled all that our horses could bear until 3 o'clock p.m., when we
came to a flock of sagehens. As I was still on the lead, I shot three
of them before the rest fled. We broiled one of them, and soon devoured
it, as we had the other bird, then continued our journey till evening.

As we traveled along by a small stream of water, I saw a fish about
eighteen inches long, and almost as quick as thought shot at and
stunned it, so that it turned up at the top of the water long enough
for an Indian boy who was traveling with us to shoot an arrow through
it. With the arrow sticking through it, the fish shot up to where the
creek widened out, and I, thinking the water only knee-deep, plunged in
up to my hips. I caught the fish, we broiled it for supper, and ate it
as we had done the birds and leeks--without salt or pepper.

On the 11th we had a bird for breakfast, and traveled till afternoon,
counting that we had journeyed about one hundred and twenty-five miles,
and reached our camp, where we found all well. The boys soon spread
a white man's meal before us, and each of us did our part without a
grumble. Then we made a short drive, and on the 12th pushed forward on
our way to Fort Supply, reaching that place on the 14th. We found all
well, and in good spirits.

June 15th we loaded two wagons with a large assortment of Indian goods,
as we had agreed to meet the Indians with the merchandise, in twenty
days, on the Labarg, a tributary of Green River. On the 20th we reached
that stream and as there were no Indians there I sent Joshua Terry, E.
Barney Ward, and my cousin James M. Brown, to inform the red men that
we were on time as agreed. It seemed that after we left them they had
quarreled and divided into three parties, and came very near righting
among themselves. They were therefore very different in spirit to when
we left them. At last they began to come and lodge in three distinct
camps around our wagons.

On the 28th, all the Indians were very sullen and did not seem to be
the same people they were a few days before. Knowing something of their
nature, we turned out about seventy-five dollars' worth of provisions
and other goods as a present. Still that did not seem to satisfy them;
they wanted all we had. Finally I told them that we had done as we had
agreed to do, and if they wished to trade we were ready. They continued
to manifest a very mean spirit, and we were not able to sell more than
five hundred dollars' worth of goods out of a stock of three thousand

On June 30th we left three of our party with the Indians, while the
rest of us returned to Fort Supply with our stock of goods. The
Indians felt very bad because we had not given them all we had. It was
July 4th when we arrived at the fort, and found the brethren there
celebrating the glorious Independence Day. I was quite ill, but the
brethren insisted on my taking the lead of the ceremonies. That being
my birthday, I accepted the offer, and we had a very enjoyable time.

From July 5th to the 18th we continued our farm labors. Then E. B. Ward
and three or four other men, including myself, set out on a little
exploring trip among the hills. We crossed over to Henry's Fork, then
returned to Smith's Fork, where we selected a place for the Indians
to settle when they saw fit. Having thus completed our obligations to
them, we returned to the fort, and continued our labors until August
1st, when we had a recruit of twelve men sent to us, under command of
John Phelps. About August 3rd or 4th I rebaptized all the Elders, and
baptized three of the first Shoshone women that ever came into the
Church. Their names were Mary, Sally Ward, and Corger. I also baptized
a young Indian man named Corsetsy. From the 5th to the 7th, the Indians
came and went, attended our meetings regularly, and felt very friendly
and somewhat inquisitive. We gave them a few presents. They said
they were well pleased to have us locate in their country, and were
satisfied with the places we had selected for them to settle and live
upon as we did. On the 7th of August, Joshua Terry and I started for
Salt Lake City, each with an ox team and two wagons loaded with furs,
pelts and robes. We arrived in the city on the 11th, and reported our
success to Governor Young, who was pleased with our efforts. We also
settled for the goods we had had of him.

On the 13th I started for Ogden City, and reached there the next day,
meeting my wife and firstborn child, a daughter, who was born August



AUGUST 14, 1855, I went to Salt Lake City, and on September 3rd
returned home. On the 5th my family were taken sick with cholera morbus.

Notwithstanding this sickness, I started on my return to Fort Supply,
for it was the faith of myself and family that if I went to my mission
they would be healed. Just as I mounted my horse to start out, my
uncle, Captain James Brown, came along and said, "Jimmie, are you going
off and leaving your family sick?"

I told him, "Yes, sir."

Said he, "You are cold-hearted, and I would not do it."

When I told him that they with me believed that if I would go to my
missionary labors they would be healed sooner than if I should neglect
my duties in that line, he, with uplifted hands, said, "Jim, you're
right. Go ahead, and God bless you. Your family shall be healed,
and not suffer. I will go in and pray for them." He did so, and I
afterwards learned that they were healed the same hour that I proceeded
on my journey. I did not see them again till December 20th, when they
told me that they had not been sick one day after I left.

Although when I started out I was very ill myself with the same
trouble, and had to call at a friend's and get a dose of painkiller,
and take a rest for an hour or two before I could proceed on my way to
Salt Lake City, yet on the 13th I started for Fort Supply, and overtook
the two wagons which had preceded me the day before. I travelled with
them until the 17th, then left them and went on horseback forty-five
miles to the fort. I was very sick for five days, so that I had to keep
my bed part of the time. I found all well and the wheat harvest ready
for the laborers, a heavy frost having injured the crops considerably.
On Friday, September 28th, I sent four men to invite Washakie to the
fort, and on the 29th we learned that Chief Tibunduets (white man's
child) had just returned with his band from Salt Lake City. October 1st
I sent Isaac Bullock and Amenzo Baker to visit him. They found him and
all of his band feeling very bad and revengeful.

October 10th Tibunduets and his band threw down our fencing and came
charging up through our field, riding over wheat shocks, and singing
war songs. At the same time the warriors from a camp above came into
the fort with their weapons in their hands. Our men tried to be
friendly and talked peace to them, but it was not what they wanted.
They said they were "heap mad," for when they were in Salt Lake City
the big Mormon captain had written with blood on their children, and
a number of these had died while they were among the Mormons. These
Indians refused the seats offered them, but jumped on the beds and
behaved very saucily, saying they wanted pay for the death of their
children who had died on the Mormon lands. Of course, we could not
afford to give presents of that kind, and their demands were rejected.

Three of the hostile Indians went to my room, and one engaging me in
conversation, the other two jumped on my bed and stretched themselves
full length on it. My cousin James M. Brown called my attention to
their rude actions, and I turned around and told them to get off my
bed, but they answered with a contemptuous laugh. I told them a second
time, and they sneered again. I stepped to the side of the bed and told
them the third time, and as they refused, I jerked one of them off the
bed so quickly that it surprised him, and the other one thought he
preferred to get off without that kind of help, and did so quickly.

Tibunduets made heavy demands on us, which we could not comply with. We
told him that we were not prepared to do his bidding, and he replied,
"You're a wolf and a liar, and you will steal." Then the Indians turned
their horses into our fields among our shocks of wheat and oats, while
their women went to digging and sacking our potatoes, the Indians
throwing down our fences in many places and ordering our men out of the
fields. They told us to leave their lands, and continued their insults
until I sent some men out to order their women out of the potato
patch. The squaws only laughed at our men, who returned and reported
the results. Then I went out myself, and as I passed a brush fence, I
caught up a piece of brush and started towards the potato diggers, who
screamed and ran away before I got near enough to use the stick.

I returned to the house and soon was followed by two young braves, who
rode up in front of the door and called for the captain. I answered
in person, when the braves said, "You heap fight squaw, you no fight
Injun." They continued their insulting words and threats of violence,
until at last I ordered them out of the fort, upon which one of them
drew his bow and pointed his arrow at me, within three feet of my
breast. At that one of my men pushed the horse's head between me and
the arrow. At the same time Amenzo Baker handed me a Colt's revolver,
and another man covered the Indian with a revolver.

At that movement the Indians started for the big gate, and as there was
quite a number of warriors inside the fort I called my men out with
their guns, for the Indians seemed determined on bloodshed. They rushed
outside, and the white men followed them to where a young chief sat
on his horse, just outside of the gate. There must have been a signal
given to the camp above, for the warriors came running with their
rifles in hand, until seventy-five to one hundred warriors were on the
ground, while there were only about forty white men. Everybody wanted
to say something, and in the confusion that followed some ten or twelve
men leveled their guns to shoot, being in such close quarters that they
struck each other as they brought their weapons into position.

At that moment I sprang under the guns and held some of them up, and
forbade the men to shoot. This act seemed to please the young chief,
and he commanded his men to desist. I ordered my men back and into
their bastions, and to bar the gate. This done, I took a position in
the watchtower, where I talked with their chief through a porthole, and
told him that we were in a position to do them harm, but did not wish
to do so, yet they must withdraw in peace and not molest our property,
for we should defend it and ourselves to the best of our ability. I
said that if they would withdraw peacefully we would not interfere with
them, but to that they would not agree. After considerable parleying,
however, they did withdraw to their camp among the cottonwood timber
and willows on the creek, and built large fires, around which they
danced and sang war songs the greater part of the night, while we made
every possible preparation for defense.

As captain of the fort, I wrote a despatch to the governor and
superintendent of Indian affairs, stating the facts. Then we covered
with blankets a slab bridge that had to be crossed near the gates, to
deaden the sound of the horse's feet as he went out, and a clever young
man by the name of Benjamin Roberts speeded away with the note to Salt
Lake City.

On the 11th all was quiet. A few Indian lodges remained near our fort,
and the women and children were around them as usual, so Isaac Bullock
and I went down to learn what the situation was. We found some of them
friendly, while others were very sulky. The main part of the Indian
camp had gone down the creek, and we thought it safe to turn our stock
out under a mounted guard, with one man in the watchtower to keep a
lookout. About 2 p.m. the man at the watchtower sounded an alarm,
saying he saw a great dust in the north; and a few minutes later he
shouted that a large body of horsemen was in sight, coming rapidly from
the north, while our horse guards were coming with our band of horses,
hastening with all speed to the fort. Immediately every man was called
to take a position for prompt action. I occupied a commanding place,
giving instructions to the men not to shoot without my order, and then
not unless they felt sure of making every shot tell. They were told to
see that every tube was filled with powder, "for here they come," said
I; "keep cool boys, for it is a close race with our men and horses."

It was a question of which would reach the fort first, they or the
Indians. The race was so close that the guards with our band just
succeeded in getting in with the animals in time to close the gates
against the Indian ponies, whose riders called out, "Open the gates!"
They were answered with a positive "No! not until you give up your
arms." They had three mountain men in their party of over one hundred
warriors, who shouted that they would be responsible if we would let
them in, for the Indian agent, George Armstrong, was a short distance
in the rear, with two wagons loaded with goods for the Indians.

As I had not been advised of the agent's approach from any other
source, I still refused them admittance. Soon the agent's wagons were
in sight, and some of his party came up and told the Indians they would
have to give up their arms before they could enter the fort, for the
captain was determined not to allow them in with their arms. At last
they submitted, and the gate was opened just wide enough for one man to
pass through. I stepped outside, the Indians handed their arms to me, I
passed them to the other men, and they placed them on a part of a wagon
sheet. Then the weapons were bound up strongly and taken away and put
in my room, and a guard placed over them. The Indians were then told
that they could enter the fort and pass directly into the blockhouse,
but would not be permitted to wander around in the fort.

About this time the agent's wagons rolled up and were hastily unloaded.
Then a friendly smoke took place, and a short council, in which the
Indians agreed that they would withdraw in peace and go to their
hunting grounds, and would not molest us any more. They said we might
remain on their lands let our stock eat grass and drink water in peace;
that we might cultivate the lands and use what timber we wanted, and
that they would be our friends, and we their friends. The goods the
agent had for the Indians were then turned over to them.

On the 13th the red men brought in a report that the Sioux Indians
had killed one of Jack Robinson's beeves. This they did to screen
themselves, for it was they and not the Sioux who had killed the
animal. The agent gave them a beef ox, and they moved down the creek.
On the 14th the agent and party returned home, and we kept up a guard
day and night to prevent being surprised by the renegades of the Indian
camps; for we had evidence of their treachery. We had given them back
their arms, and when they obtained all we had for them they said the
white man was "heap good, Shoshone no kay nabatint Mormon." (Shoshones
do not want to fight Mormons.) They packed and left, feeling quite

General R. T. Burton with a party of twenty-five men were met at Fort
Bridger on the 16th, by myself and a small party. On the 17th I went
with them to Fort Supply, while they concluded to send out a scout
to ascertain whether the Indians really had crossed the Green River
or not, thinking that if they did we could be satisfied that all was
right. When our scouts returned and reported that all had crossed the
river and gone farther on, General Burton and command returned home,
while myself and men did up our fall work at Fort Supply.



THE writer left Fort Supply December 14, 1855, and started for his home
in Ogden City on horseback and alone, having placed Isaac Bullock in
charge of affairs at the fort. The first night out I camped at a place
called Needle Rock, just east of Yellow Creek. There I selected a spot
where the feed was good, picketed out my horse, set my saddle over the
picket pin, and spread my blankets so as to lay my head on the saddle,
lest the coyotes should cut my riata and turn loose the horse.

As I was alone and yet in an Indian country, I did not make a fire, but
ate a cold lunch, rolled up in my blankets, and soon dropped to sleep,
to be awakened by my horse snorting and kicking. The animal brushed his
nose on my head before I was sufficiently awake to understand what he
meant by his actions; but no sooner was I aroused than I found that he
was surrounded by a pack of large, grey wolves which were growling and
snapping at his heels and at each other. The night was so dark that I
could plainly see the fierce eyes of my ravenous enemies shining in the
darkness all around me.

I had a good Colt's revolver, but having heard that if wolves smelled
blood when they were gathered in such a pack they would attack man
or beast, I reserved my fire. I remembered having heard that these
wild beasts were afraid of the flash and smell of burning powder, so
I spread some gunpowder on the leathers of my saddle, and with flint
and steel struck fire, and in that way flashed powder by intervals all
night. The wolves would run off, but return in a short time, as if
determined to have flesh. My horse was too weak to attempt to flee,
and as for myself I had become so chilled and benumbed that it was
with some difficulty that I could keep up the flashes till daylight,
at which time the pack of wolves went away, leaving horse and rider
to resume their sufficiently hazardous journey without such unwelcome

I crossed over to the head of Echo Canyon, where I found a yoke of oxen
that some emigrants had left to die. As the animals had got rested
up, I thought I could drive them in and save their lives, but had to
abandon them in Round Valley, Weber Canyon. Then, on a poor, jaded
horse, I pursued my way, arriving at home about 9 p.m. on December 20th.


I found all well, but winter supplies of food so short that I sold the
only respectable suit of clothes I had for breadstuff. I had about worn
out all the rest of my clothing when I was in the Indian country, so
that I had but one old flannel shirt left, and that I had made out of
two old ones. I had one pair of buckskin pants, a rough beaver cap and
a pair of moccasins.

It will be remembered by the early residents of Utah that the year
1855 was a grasshopper year, as well as a season of great drought, and
therefore one of the hardest years that many of the people had ever
experienced, both for man and beast. Hundreds of horses and cattle
starved to death, and many of the people barely escaped the same sad
fate. I could do no better than to let my horses go out on the range to
die of starvation and cold, and turn my hand to anything I could get to
do to earn an honest dollar.

Soon after arriving home I was called to devote a portion of my time in
traveling from settlement to settlement, and preaching to the people;
also in visiting the Indian camps along the Weber River and preaching
and talking to them, for it was a terrible winter for the Indians.
Before entering upon these duties, however, I returned to where I had
left my cattle to rest for a few days, and where the feed was tolerably
good. When I started out it commenced to storm and by the time I
reached the cattle the snow was eighteen inches deep.

Before I could get out of the canyon with the animals the snow was two
and a half feet deep. My horse gave out, and I had to travel on foot,
breaking the trail and leading the horse a few rods, then going back
and driving up the cattle. I continued these efforts until myself and
stock were exhausted. When I tried to start a fire, my matches were
all wet. I had left my rifle and shotpouch at home, and in the pouch
were my faithful flint and steel, which had never failed me. But for
the snow, the night was total darkness. At last I reached a clump of
cottonwood trees, and for a time I thought I would die of exhaustion
and thirst. I knew that if I ceased to exert myself I would chill to
death. Finally it occurred to my mind to tear off a piece of my shirt,
roll it up, hold it in one hand, and with my revolver shoot through it
and start a fire. I found a large sagebrush, and from it gathered the
dry bark. This I wrapped around the roll of shirt, then fired a shot
through it, and in that way succeeded in starting a flame. As there
was plenty of wood handy, I built and kept up a large fire during the
night. The river banks were so steep that it was impossible in the
darkness to get water to drink. I was driven almost frantic by thirst,
but finally thought to take off my heavy leggings, place them in a
position so that they would form a kind of basin, and cover them with
snow, so the fire would melt it to water in the leather bowl. In that
way I obtained water and quenched my terrible thirst. My blankets and
everything I had on had been soaked thoroughly with the melting snow,
but I succeeded in drying all during the night.

The dawn of day was welcome indeed, but my troubles were not yet over,
for I found my animals standing in snow to their necks, and they would
not move out of their tracks only as I broke an opening around and
urged them on. The snow was so wet and heavy that it was an awful task
to break a road and get those animals through for the first five miles.
After that the snow was not so deep, and with a very great effort and
hazard of life I succeeded in reaching Ogden, as thankful as I ever was
in my life to get home--to "home, sweet home."

Being once more with my family and friends, I got up my winter wood
and visited the people as a teacher. In the spring I finished a
two-roomed house that I had under way on Main Street. I then moved
into it, preparatory to going to Fort Supply again, but was honorably
released by President Young from further missionary labors in that
part. I rented land, put in corn and potatoes, and spent the fore part
of the summer at farm labor. Having acquired a fourth interest in
three ferries on Green River, I arranged with my three partners, Isaac
Bullock, Louis Robinson and W. Hickman, so that I did not have to go
there, as my health was not very good; hence I remained at Ogden.



ON August 22, 1856, I received a letter from President Young, calling
me to take a mission of thirty days, west across the desert, to Deep
Creek, to the Indians in that region. As I did not understand fully
the object of the mission, I thought there was some mistake in the
letter, since the distance that had to be traveled out and back would
be about five hundred miles and I was to preach to a tribe of Indians
I had never seen, much less being able to speak their dialect, and do
it all with only thirty days' rations. To me it was, to say the least,
a singular call; so I went to Salt Lake City August 23rd, to find out
that the letter meant just what it said, no less; only that Geo. W.
Armstrong, an Indian agent from Provo, was going out to distribute some
goods among the Indians, and it would be a good time to send a few
missionaries to preach to the red men.

From Salt Lake City I returned to Ogden and purchased a splendid mare
of widow Ruth Stuart, on credit, promising to pay when I could. On the
27th I joined Mr. Armstrong and twenty-five other men in Salt Lake
City, fitting up for the journey, some as guards to the agent and some
as missionaries. Among those I remember were Seth M. Blair, Oliver
Huntington, Ormus Bates, John Whitney, J. Cooley, Harrison Sagers,
Harrison Sevier, and Peter Conover; there were others whose names I do
not now recall.

The company left the city on August 29th, and traveled through Tooele,
Rush Valley, and over Johnson's Pass into Skull Valley. With five
others of the party, however, I went around by what is now called
Dugway, and met the rest of the company at the springs in Skull Valley.

On September 2nd, we reached Granite Rock, sometimes called Granite
Mountain, as it stands out in the midst of the desert. There the
company camped at some alkali springs, where, with cup and bucket, it
took all night to dip water for the stock. Next morning we found that
the Indians had stolen all the team horses, eight head, so the agent
called on the men to volunteer their saddle horses to take his wagons
across the desert. Among the rest, I let my horse go, and eight of us
set out on foot to cross the desert, while some went after the stolen
stock. Other horsemen pushed across to water, and the teams brought up
the rear.

The route was brushy and rocky, in some places there was heavy sand, in
other parts stiff alkali mud, and much of the time without a sign of a
road. The writer was taken very sick with a severe bowel complaint and
was compelled to turn to one side, so I fell behind my fellow footmen.
The teams lagged in the sand and mud till long after dark. I became so
weak and faint that I could not travel any longer, and I laid down on
the damp ground, so tired and thirsty that it seemed impossible for me
to live until morning without relief. When I had laid down for some
time, I heard my bunkmate, Doc. Woodward, shout that he had found water
and filled his canteen, and was coming back hunting the missed and
needy one. When he got near enough for me to answer him, I did so, and
with a drink I was somewhat revived. I was helped on my friend's horse,
and we proceeded on for about five miles to camp and water. One of the
party gave me a brandy toddy, spread my blankets, and I turned in, a
very grateful sufferer. I was given a cup of coffee, after which I felt
very much relieved, and by morning was ready to resume the journey, the
wagons having come up about 11 p.m. Next morning, September 4th, we
moved up five or six miles, to what was called Fish Springs. There we
found a number of Indians, and the party pitched camp for a few days.

When the animals had been cared for and fires built, the Indians
gathered around in considerable numbers. As they were talking among
themselves, the writer understood and commenced to speak with them
in their own dialect, at which they were surprised and said one to
another, "Who is this man, that talks our talk? He has never been in
our country before." I was no less astonished myself; and I call the
reader's attention now to the peculiar feature of a man being called
to fit himself out with provisions to last him thirty days, travel out
in the desert two hundred and fifty or three hundred miles, and preach
to a tribe of Indians in whose country he had never been and whom he
had never seen before. Yet when the agent's interpreters failed to get
the Indians to understand, the agent asked if I could talk with them. I
told him I had never seen these Indians before that hour, "but," said
I, "I understand them, and you see they understand me." "Yes," said
the agent, but I do not see how it is that you can talk with them. I
have two men employed as interpreters, but they cannot make the Indians
understand. Now if you can make them comprehend what I wish to tell
them, I will pay you three dollars per day from the time that you left
home until you return there."

"I do not know whether I can do your talking or not," was my response
to this proposition. "I came here to preach to this people, and I have
power given me to do it in their own tongue. But I do not know whether
I will be permitted to speak for you or not; if I am, I will talk for
you." "All right," said Mr. Armstrong, "have them form a circle in
front of my wagons, and tell them who I am, and what the great father
at Washington has sent me here for; that I have brought them clothing
and blankets as a present from the great father at Washington, and that
he expects them to be good people and live in peace with each other,
and also with other people, and if they will do so the great father
will send good men to bring more goods to them."

When I told them what the agent wanted, they at once formed a circle as
desired, to the satisfaction of all present. Then the agent distributed
the goods, to the great pleasure of the Indians. He talked very kindly
to them and gave them much good advice. I interpreted what he said, and
then continued to preach to them, telling them about the Book of Mormon
and their forefathers, and many other things of interest to them. I
seemed to have perfect liberty of speech as I desired it, in their
dialect, and they listened attentively to all I had to say.

The next day Seth M. Blair, Peter Conover, Ormus Bates and myself and
four or five other men that belonged to the missionary part of the
camp, employed an Indian guide to travel south around the head of Deep
Creek, to see what natural advantages there were for settlements, but
we failed to find anything inviting until we came to Deep Creek, where
the country seemed quite suitable for stock raising. About the 11th of
September the party returned to the agent's camp, where we again met
with many of the Indians, who wished us to stop and live with them as
their friends, adding, "If you will not stop with us, then tell the big
Mormon captain to send some good Mormon men that will tell the truth
and show us how to make clothes like the white man."

It was the next day, I think, that the party started back to Salt Lake
City, the agent having secured his team horses. We traveled north of
Granite Rock, and around the point of the mountain to the lake, thence
along the shore to Grantsville. We tarried one day with Mr. Cooley, and
partook of the hospitality of himself and family.

After our visit to the Deep Creek Indians, some of them claimed to have
received dreams and visions, in which heavenly messengers appeared and
told them to go into Tooele and call on the Bishops, who would tell
them what to do, and for them to obey the Bishops. Accordingly, scores
of them went to Grantsville and related their story, when they were
told to believe in Christ and repent and be baptized. Many of them
obeyed this advice, and then a missionary was sent out and located
among them.

With our one day's rest at Grantsville, the party continued on to Salt
Lake City, where Mr. Armstrong paid me ninety dollars in cash for my
services as interpreter. I returned home and paid the ninety dollars
on the mare I had purchased on credit for the mission. My labors as
a missionary, however, were still called for, and I visited all the
settlements in Weber County, also the Indian camps, and acted as a
presiding teacher in Ogden City, often being called to arbitrate
differences between the white people and Indians. About that time Snag,
the Bannock Indian chief, and twelve of his prominent men called on me
to accompany them to Salt Lake City to see President Brigham Young on
some business. They said they wished a friendly talk, and to tell some
of their grievances and ask some favors of him. The latter constituted
the greater part of their business. I accompanied them to President
Young's residence, where he received them kindly, furnishing them with
necessary supplies of food and fuel. Next day, after they had had a
very friendly talk with the President, he gave orders to the Bishops
in the northern settlements to supply the Indians' wants as far as
practicable, as it was cheaper to feed than to fight them. Then after
all the complaints of the Bannocks had been satisfactorily adjusted, we
left, they for their homes in the north near Fort Hall, the writer for
Ogden, where I continued my labors.



IN the spring of 1857 I rented some land and put in a crop. Soon after
this an order came from Governor Young to the Weber County officials
to organize the militia of the county, which was done. I was elected
captain of the first company of infantry in the Weber militia district.
The company consisted of captain, commissioned and non-commissioned
officers, and one hundred men of the rank and file. Chauncey W. West,
then the Bishop of Weber County, was commissioned general of the
district. He appointed days for drill, and four companies came together
in Ogden City for that service.

At that time we had not learned of threatened danger from any source
except occasional Indian raids; but no sooner had we got properly
organized and ready for self-defense than news came from the east to
Governor Young that an invading army was coming, with hostile threats
against the citizens of Utah.

As the governor had not been officially notified of the approach of
United States troops, his official oath bound him to repel any invading
forces. He accordingly sent out scouts to ascertain the movements of
the troops referred to, and soon learned that there was a well equipped
army of nearly ten thousand men on their way west, with the avowed
purpose, it was said, of destroying the Mormon Church and people.

Some time in August General West called out twelve or fifteen men as a
scouting party, to go over in the Bear Lake country, along the emigrant
road, and from there to the head of Lost Creek and down the Weber
River. He had heard of a party going up Lost Creek, and over to the
Bear Lake country. General West appointed Major Monroe to take charge
of the party, of which the writer was called to be one, as I had been
acquainted with mountain travel and understood the Indian language.
General West told the major to make no move of importance without
consulting me as to the journey.

The party proceeded to the divide between North Ogden and Ogden
Valley, where we halted and the major privately told me that he was
not accustomed to journeys of that kind, and wished me to lead the
party through, for I had more experience than he had. I declined the
responsibility, but the major said: "I will be responsible if you will
lead." so I headed out to Blacksmith Fork and thence to Bear Lake, and
around the east side thereof to the river. We crossed to the California
road near the present site of Montpelier, thence back east to the
road where Cokeville settlement is now located. As we failed to learn
anything of importance, we returned back over the river and struck out
for the head of Lost Creek, where it was supposed that we would fall in
with the scouts from the approaching army.

The nights began to be cold, and the food supply was getting low. The
horses were somewhat jaded, the route very rough, and the most of the
party were young and inexperienced. They began to complain and said
that nobody had ever traveled in so rough a country as that, and it
was all foolishness to be wearing ourselves out in that way. They
said the writer did not know himself where he was going, and I had
no business to be on the lead, as that was Major Monroe's place. The
major, however, promptly told the party that I was in the proper place.
Finally I called a halt and told the party that I knew that we were
going just right and had been on a trail all day, but they did not know
it. They asked, "Where is your trail?" and I again told them that we
were on it. They laughed at me when I said, "I can prove it to you, and
even tell you the color of the horses that have passed this way." But
they thought me a fool to talk thus, so I told one of the young men to
jump down and remove the leaves from a root of a tree that stood near
by a steep bank, as it was plain to the practiced eye that an old trail
passed there, and when the leaves were removed he would find that the
bark had been bruised at the roots of the tree by the hoofs of passing
horses. He found the trail and the bark off the tree roots, as I had
said. I told the men to look on the tree about the height of a pony's
side, and they would find hair that would tell them the color of the
ponies that had passed there. They found bay and white horses' hair.
Next I said to them, "Look on the point of that snag which projects
over the trail." They did so, and found a duplicate of the hair they
had found on the tree. Then they said that I could prove anything I
pleased, and they would not dispute with me any more.

The party passed on down Lost Creek, to a point where the country was
more open. When camping time came we turned into a little creek bottom
and put out the stock. I remarked to the major that I felt as though we
should put on a double guard that night. This was more than some of the
boys thought they could stand. Several said that I would run the party
to death, but that they would not submit to any extra guard. Others
said there was no use for any guard, for nobody but Brown would ever
lead a party there; but just then some one hallooed, and we found, on
looking, that no one was missing from camp. One said it was a coyote,
another that it was an owl. Again the cry was heard distinctly, and no
doubt remained of its being a human voice. Then the order was given to
get up the stock, ready for whatever might come. The horses were soon
picketed near camp, and every man thought it was proper to put on a
double guard that night, some of the boys remarking that Brown was not
such a fool as they had thought.

Things settled down for the night, and next morning the party started
out. We had gone less than a mile when we saw fresh horse tracks made
by shod horses, and the droppings looked so new that I directed a
young man to ascertain if they were warm. The novel way in which the
young man performed that task created some merriment for the moment.
Then the party continued on a short distance, when we saw a smoke just
over the creek bank ahead. Every man was ready to obey orders, and all
dismounted at command and tightened up their saddle girths. Then came
the order to see that every tube was filled with dry powder, and each
man was assigned his position for action.

The party was instructed not to halt without orders, and not to let
a horse put his head down to drink. If perchance we saw a blanket,
a handkerchief, or any camp equipage, we were to pass it unnoticed;
if brush or any obstructions were observed, we might be certain that
all such signs meant ambuscade. We then advanced cautiously and found
evidence of a party about our own number, lying encamped at the fire.
We pressed forward on the trail, and found several bushes lapped across
it, so that we felt certain we would soon fall in with those ahead,
whom we felt sure could be none other than a scouting party from
Johnston's army. We prepared for the worst, and as we were moving on
double-quick time we saw a man running towards a grove of cottonwood
trees, from a point of the mountain. Next we saw the horses of a party
of scouts, the top of whose tent was soon discovered.

Quickly capturing the horses, we charged on the tent and surrounded it.
taking the men by surprise. As they began to file out of their tent,
our party leveled their rifles and called on them to surrender. Just
at that moment one of the surprised party recognized one of our men,
so that we only required them to acknowledge that they were "dropped
on," a phrase used in those times to express the condition. We were not
long in ascertaining that the party was a scout from Davis County, in
pursuit of the same reported detachment we had been sent to intercept.
But neither of us had seen or heard anything of the party that was
supposed to be in the region of country we had been over. Without much
delay, our party hastened home to Ogden City, and joined our regiment,
finding much excitement and hearing many rumors.

It seemed that there was no rest for me, for in a day or two General
West called on me to visit the camp of James and Ben Simons, who lived
about twenty miles up the Weber River. The men named were Cherokee
Indians who, it was said, were in possession of some important
information which the general wanted to get. He told me to learn what I
could from the Simonses, as they were friendly.

When I got to the mouth of the canyon I chanced to meet Ben Simons
coming from Salt Lake City. It was evident the Indian had been
drinking, and as soon as I met him he drew his Colt's revolver and
said, "Hold on there!" threatening to kill me if I was Uncle Sam's man.
I succeeded in riding close alongside of him, grabbed his pistol and
held the muzzle away from me. I tried to persuade him not to shoot, for
we must be good friends. He yelled again that if I were a Mormon I must
fight his old uncle or he would kill me. He was a powerful man, and I
had all that I could do to keep the pistol turned from me.

For ten miles I had to tussle with that Indian, and at times thought
I would have to shoot him in self-defense; but after the most
disagreeable and hazardous ten miles' ride of my whole life, we came
to Gordon Beckstead's ranch. Simons regarded Beckstead as his friend.
The latter persuaded the warrior to dismount and have a drink of whisky
with him, and let me go my way, for I was a good friend to both of them.

I went to James Simons' camp but failed to get the information desired.
Simons was very friendly, and said that if he heard anything of
interest he would be pleased to let us know it at once. I then returned
to my regiment, which was ordered into camp the next day. We bivouacked
on the east bench in Ogden City.



THE first night in camp at Ogden, General West and his adjutant, D.
Gamble, called at my tent, and told me I was wanted to take charge
of a scouting party to go over in the Bear Lake country, and start
by sunrise next morning. They directed me to choose the men I would
like to have accompany me, and they should be released to go home and
prepare. I made a list of five young, active men, who met me next
morning at sunrise, having received their orders. We proceeded to the
emigrant road across the Bear River, about fifteen miles above the
lake. There we met with some emigrants, but could not learn anything
from them, so we crossed back to the foot hills, and there camped in a
secluded place, where we could overlook the emigrant road. Next morning
at 4 o'clock I awoke from a dream, in which I had seen two hundred and
fifty cavalrymen come and pitch camp just across the river from where
we were; then I saw two hundred and fifty more come and reinforce the
first detachment; I also saw their baggage and artillery wagons. I was
impressed so forcibly with the dream that I called my comrades and told
them to prepare for a move, while I went up one of the high points
and watched developments. At daybreak I saw the camp of the first two
hundred and fifty men, saw them form in line for roll call, and a
mounted guard drive their horses across the river towards our camp.

The main object of our scout was to learn if the army or any portion of
it was coming down Bear River and into Salt Lake Valley from the north,
and if we saw any troops on that route to communicate the information
to headquarters at the earliest moment possible, so that our forces
could meet them at the best places on the route, and repulse them.
That that end might be served I sent two of my men with a dispatch to
General West, and as soon as the messengers had gone out of call I
again went on the hill. Everything was ready to move as developments
might indicate, and just as the first party was saddling its horses I
saw the second two hundred and fifty come up and join the first party.
Then the five hundred cavalrymen proceeded down the river, just as I
had seen them in my dream. This necessitated a second dispatch and two
more of my men, leaving me only one, with whom I followed up the troops
till they camped. It rained and snowed alternately all that day and
night. My comrade, James Davis, and I went after dark within the lines
of the troops, but did not learn of their intentions. Davis was taken
with something like a congestive chill, and we were forced to retreat
into the hills, where we camped for the night. Davis was so bad that I
worked in the storm all night with him and prayed for him; at last he
was healed and we set out on our way home at daylight.

About 8 a.m. the writer came down sick, just the same as my friend had
been, only I also suffered with pleurisy in the right side. I could
ride no further, so we camped in the snow, where it was about eight
inches deep. Snow was still falling as it can only in the mountain
country. Our clothes were wet as could be, and our blankets were in the
same condition. The only food we had was the crumbs and dust from some

Davis succeeded in making a fire, but by that time I had cramped so
that I could not speak. Davis, supposing I was dying, started out to a
quakingasp grove to get some poles to make an Indian litter or drag,
on which he thought to take my body home. As he went he felt he ought
to have faith and pray for his comrade, as he had been prayed for the
night before; so he fell on his knees and prayed, as he afterwards
said, as he never had done before. Then something said to him, "Go back
and put your hands on him and pray again, and he will be healed;" and
it was even so.

We then traveled some fifteen miles, when the sun shone. We partly
dried our blankets by a fire and the sun, and continued our journey
for some ten miles, when I had a second attack of illness, which was
so severe that I thought I had better die alone in the mountains than
to allow the enemy to gain the advantage in the country. Consequently,
I told Davis to make my horse fast by the trail and spread my
blankets, that I might lie down. This done, I directed him not to
spare horseflesh, but take the news to our friends as soon as it was
possible. Davis did not want to leave me in that plight, but was urged
to go. He started reluctantly, and in tears.

For a time it seemed that I had rendered my last services to family
and friends, as I lay down by an Indian trail, sixty miles from any
white man's habitation. While I was pondering the situation, a magpie
came flying down over me, and said "quack," then alighted on a willow
near by, in plain sight. Next came a raven, which gave its "croak," as
it settled down near me, and it seemed as though it had found prey.
Being aware of the habits of these carrion birds, I wrapped my head
in blankets, to prevent the birds from picking out my eyes, if the
worst came to me; yet I knew that my body could not be protected from
the wild beasts that roamed in the mountains, such as the bear, wolf,
wolverine, panther or mountain lion, wild cat and lynx, some of which,
if not all these various kinds, would be tugging at my carcass inside
of twenty-four hours.

Then the birds circled over me, as if to say, "We want an eye," or
some fragment of my body, I felt that my time was nigh, and unless the
providence of God interposed, I would go the way of all the earth before
the rising of the sun. I was chilled to the very bone, and cramped so
that it was impossible for me to build a fire. It did not seem possible
for me to survive until my companion could ride sixty miles and send

While I pondered the situation, four young men who had been sent with
fresh horses and food supplies came up, they having met Davis, who
sent them on with all speed. I think the eldest of them was not over
seventeen years old. They soon built a fire and prepared much needed
refreshments, and I was greatly benefited by that special providence of
God, as it certainly seemed to me to be. While I partook of the food,
the young men saddled my horse, rolled up my blankets, and we rode
eight or ten miles that night, and camped while the rain came down in
torrents. The boys soon provided me with shelter by sticking willows in
the ground and winding the tops together and spreading blankets over,
so that it afforded a little protection for me, and I was soon wrapped
in wet blankets.

The next thing was to start a fire. Every match had got wet, and the
boys thought it impossible to make a fire, so they asked me what they
should do. I told them to get some cotton out of a quilt if they could
find a dry spot in it, then put a small priming of powder in a rifle
and ram down the cotton on the powder; in the next place, go to the
heaviest topped sagebrush they could find, and carefully reach under
and strip the dry bark off the main stalk of sagebrush, and in that way
get a tinder, then come to my shelter and hold the bark loosely over
the muzzle of the gun and fire it off. They got a light, but they had
too much powder and it blew the fire out. They tried repeatedly without
satisfactory results, and the case was becoming desperate, as darkness
was coming on. Two of them got under cover with me, and I finally
succeeded in measuring the powder to them. Then they started a flame,
and as wood was plenty they made a rousing fire.

In the meantime I took to cramping and suffered so severely that one
of the boys remarked. "Brother Brown will die. O what shall we do?"
Another said, "Let us pray." Then one led in prayer, and he prayed
mightily. As soon as he was through, one said, "Let us go in and lay
hands on him," and in a moment they all gathered around me, placed
their hands on my head, and prayed from their hearts. The cramping
ceased and never returned as severe as it was before; yet I suffered
greatly from the pain in my side. The writer regrets very much that he
cannot recall the names of those young lads. I believe they were all
sent from Willard City, Box Elder County. God bless them, whoever they
are. Their action showed them to be young heroes, with great faith in
God; and but for them I would have died that fearful night.

Next morning, the party was up, and off we went down Blacksmith's
Fork Canyon and across to Wellsville, where I was taken in by Bishop
Peter Maughan and his good wife, who did all they could to relieve my
sufferings. The Bishop also saw that the boys were well taken care of.

The following morning Samuel Obray drove up with a light, covered
wagon, and a good team, and I was helped into the wagon. Sister Maughan
had provided a large canteen full of composition tea. She came to the
wagon, and without thinking of anything else, she placed it partly
under the side where I had the pleurisy pain. Then the team started
for Brigham City, and before we had gone five miles the pain had
disappeared from my side, thanks to the Bishop and Sister Maughan for
their special kindness, and S. Obray. The latter delivered me into the
hands of Colonel Smith in Brigham City, where I was cared for until
next day, and then the colonel forwarded me to my home in Ogden City,
where I recovered after suffering from a severe cold and cough for a
few days.

During my absence the regiment had gone to Echo Canyon, and there was
scarcely an able-bodied man to be found in the city. The women and
children were cutting and hauling wood, and doing all the outdoor work
as best they could. A great deal of sickness was brought on by exposure
and hardships. At a Sabbath meeting a general vote of thanks was given
the writer for his efforts for the general good of the people and his

About this time there was a very worthy young man named Yough, who
died, and I was called on to take the part of sexton and bury the
deceased, as well as some small children that had died. Meanwhile,
there were four prisoners brought in from the north; they were
supposed to be spies. I was called on to be one of the guards to take
them to Salt Lake City, where they were turned over to the military
authorities. Then I returned home, to learn that the troops my scouts
and I had seen on Bear River were General R. T. Burton's battalion of
Utah cavalry, which had been sent out to intercept a detachment of
Johnston's army which had been discovered in that direction, but had
returned to the main body, which went into winter quarters at Fort
Bridger. Then the Utah militia was withdrawn from Echo Canyon.

I was next called to take up my missionary labors in Weber County.
From 1856 to 1859 I baptized and rebaptized four hundred persons, and
visited with the catechism from house to house. In that work I spent
the winter of 1857-8.



SOME time in May, 1858, as I remember, an order came from President
Brigham Young for everybody living north of Utah County to move south
and leave their homes prepared for burning; for it had been decided
that if Johnston's army came in, as it had threatened to do, with
hostile intentions, the people would lay waste the country and fight
to the bitter end. I do not remember that there was a dissenting voice
from this determination.

Everybody moved out to the south, myself and family going to Payson,
one hundred miles from Ogden. There we made a camp, and I cut wild hay
and hauled it for a livelihood, that being the only employment I could

In the latter part of July, when peace had been re-established, I
returned home and made hasty preparations for my family for the winter,
as I had been called by President Brigham Young to accompany General
Horace S. Eldredge to Florence, Nebraska, with a company consisting
of twenty men who were going on business and partly as missionaries.
I belonged to the latter class. I went into the western part of Iowa,
being assigned to that field of labor, while the others went to their
several destinations.

The company was to have moved out on the 1st of September, so I. A.
Canfield and I, fitted with a four-mule team and light wagon, were in
Salt Lake City ready to start at the appointed time; but the rest of
the party would not or could not be ready for ten or twelve days, so we
returned home and stayed until the 11th. We then went to Salt Lake City
and waited until the 14th, and, as the party was still tardy, we moved
out to the top of the Little Mountain, and there camped. From that
place we proceeded to the Weber River, where we were overtaken by John
Neff and Dusten Arna, who were to join the party when it came up. As
their teams were not in the best of plight for the journey, we traveled
together to Ham's Fork, where we stopped on the 19th, and waited for
those yet in the rear to come up. About 8 o'clock that evening H. S.
Eldredge, Jos. W. Young and Horton Haight reached our camp.

On the 20th, the company having got together, proceeded on the way to
the Sweetwater. On the 26th we reached the Platte River, where I was
taken very sick with hemorrhoids of the bowels. With that exception,
all moved smoothly. On the 28th we passed Fort Laramie, and my health
began to improve, though I had been brought almost to death's door, and
the company was detained one afternoon in consequence. After that I
improved, and the company made rapid headway. October 3rd two deserters
from Fort Laramie passed the party. They had stolen two horses and a
mule from the government, and, as I remember it, made good their escape.

Nothing happened out of the ordinary until October 19th, when the
party arrived at Florence, Nebraska, on the Missouri River. From that
point each went to his field of labor or to his business, as planned
beforehand. Canfield and I crossed the river to L. O. Littlefield's, in
Crescent City, and stayed over night with him and his family, and on
the 20th proceeded on our way to Calhoun, Harrison County, Iowa, where
my father lived with his family. We were soon overtaken by Clayton Webb
and B. H. Dennis, my brothers-in-law. I accepted a seat in their buggy
and they took me to my father's home.

I had not seen father for eleven years. I was an entire stranger to
every one of the family, who kept a hotel. I went in and ate with
strangers, and did not make myself known until after all the evening
work was done. Then after I was satisfied that they had not the
remotest idea of my identity, I told them who I was. It was some
time before they could realize that what I said was true. To them it
seemed that the dead had come to life, and the long lost had been
found, for they had all given up hope of ever seeing me again. It was
not difficult for me to recognize my father and mother, but my elder
brother and sister were dead, and the younger ones had all grown out of

When I had visited with them a few days, I preached several times in
the public schoolhouse, and then traveled and preached. On one occasion
I had a walk and talk with my father alone. We talked of my absence,
and he said, "James, I had given up all hopes of ever seeing your face
again, but thanks be to God I have that privilege. You always have
stood up for the faith and have been a man through thick and thin for
your religion." Then he said, "Oh that I had the faith that I once had,
and felt as I have felt! I would be a happy man if I had the spirit
that you have, and that I once had." He burst into a flood of tears,
and exclaimed, "Oh, my God, I am in the dark and I do not know that I
shall ever feel as I once felt. Then I could divide the last loaf, yes,
the last morsel of food that I had with a Mormon. Talk about heaven!
The true spirit of Mormonism is heaven. I thank God that you have kept
the faith, though you have had a hard time of it." Then he added,
"James, stick to it and never give it up; for if there is any salvation
for me or any of my family it will be through you, for you are the
Joseph of my family, and I have known it since before you were born."
He then seemed as humble as a little child, and continued: "James, be
faithful in the work, but as for me or any of my family going to Utah,
I don't think we will ever go."

I told him he could do no better than to go with his entire family and
renew their covenants, for the good Spirit was for all who would seek
it in the proper way. At last father said that he did not know what
they should do yet, the weather being wet and cold.

We returned into the house and I stayed with the family the first
month, preaching in the public schoolhouse every Sabbath. Then my
brother Willis and I traveled around from place to place, and preached
everywhere we found an opportunity, first to Raglan Township, and then
to the northeast, forty miles into Shelby County. We preached several
times in Garden Grove schoolhouse, and went from there to a small town
called Monteno, thence to Pottawatomie County. We preached to a full
hall in Council Bluffs City, then went out on Mosquito Creek, in what
was called the Garner settlement. Thus we continued to travel and
preach from place to place and bear our testimonies, as health and
opportunity permitted.

In January, 1859, preached my cousin Ira Johnson's funeral sermon; he
had been accidentally shot and killed while out with a surveying party
in that region of country. The same day I baptized six persons and
confirmed them; this was at my father's house, and from that time my
father seemed quite changed in his feelings. He said it was all that he
could do to keep out of the water, and stated that he had never felt
better in his life than he did on that occasion. Said he, "James, I
want you to preach all the time."

On April 7th I received a letter from General Horace S. Eldredge,
asking me to come down to Platte County, Missouri, and receive one
hundred and seventy-seven head of work oxen that he had contracted
for with Mr. Lampton and Mr. Thompson, cattle merchants. Having also
received the written contract for the cattle, I started on the 8th,
and on the 9th I took passage on the steamboat _Satan_, which lay
at the Council Bluffs landing. I paid ten dollars for passage to
Parkville, Platte County, Missouri. The boat called at all important
towns and landings. Nothing out of the ordinary happened except that
we were driven under a high sandbank in a short bend of the river,
by a powerful wind storm, and in trying to extricate the boat, the
side-wheel next the shore threw the water with such force against the
bank as to cause it to cave in onto the boat, so that the guards and
wheelhouse were carried away.

I landed at Parkville on April 13th, stopped overnight, and on the 14th
proceeded eight miles to Mr. Thompson's. On the 15th I went with him
to his partner in the contract, Mr. Lampton. The men General Eldredge
promised in his letter on the 15th to send to help drive and care for
the cattle, did not arrive until the 27th, when Eldredge came with five
men. He furnished money to pay the expenses, and gave instructions,
then returned to St. Louis. On the 28th, 29th and 30th, myself and
party received and branded one hundred and seventy-seven head of work
oxen and two valuable mules.

We started for the north on May 1st, traveling through Rochester,
Marysvale, Lindon and Sydney, keeping from the river and on the high,
rolling prairies, through what was called the Platte purchase in
Missouri. We arrived in Council Bluffs on May 15th, and went from
there to Florence, Nebraska, where I delivered up the drove of cattle
and span of mules, on the 16th, to Bishop Frederick Kesler, who was
General Eldredge's agent. We lost but one head from among the cattle,
although we had an exceedingly stormy and muddy time of it most of the
way, having to swim several streams that had been swollen by the heavy
rains, so that the journey was taken with great hardships, and danger
as well.

I went to my father's home on the 17th, in Calhoun County, Iowa,
settled with my father, who was very kind to me and my brother Willis,
helping us to two yoke of oxen to cross the plains with. We bade
farewell to the parental home and to the family on the 27th. Father
accompanied us to Council Bluffs and paid our expenses until the 30th,
when we parted with him. We crossed the river at Omaha, and moved up to
Florence, where we went into a camp or rendezvous and waited for others
to come to make a company strong enough to cross the plains.

The company had its camp some three miles northwest of Florence, where
General Eldredge, the Church agent, and Elder George Q. Cannon, agent
for the European emigration, both called on me to go out into Nebraska
and also to cross into Iowa and purchase work cattle for them. Each
furnished me with five hundred dollars in gold then, and as it was the
time that hundreds of gold hunters were returning from Pike's Peak, I
had great success in my purchases, spending a thousand dollars some
days in the purchase of cattle, buying whole teams as they stood on the
road, sometimes wagons, equipage and provisions. I would hire a trusty
man to drive them up to Florence, and then I would replenish my pockets
and go on again. For ten days I traveled early and late, and did
thousands of dollars' worth of business for the Church and emigration.



ON Sunday, June 12th, Elders Eldredge and Cannon visited the camp and
held meeting, then organized the company, naming James S. Brown for
president and captain, the selection being unanimously sustained.
George L. Farrell was made sergeant of the guard, William Wright
chaplain, and John Gordon secretary. A captain was appointed over each
ten wagons, namely: first, Wm. Steel; second, W. Williams; third,
Christopher Funk; fourth, Newbury; fifth, Kent; sixth, Giddens.
These names were suggested by Messrs. Eldredge and Cannon, and were
unanimously sustained by the company of three hundred and fifty-three
souls. The outfit consisted of fifty-nine wagons and one hundred and
four yoke of oxen, eleven horses, thirty-five cows, and forty-one
head of young cattle that were driven loose. We had provisions for
seventy-five days.

On June 13th, 1859, the company set out for Salt Lake City, Utah.
There were nine different nationalities of people represented, namely;
English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Danish, Swedish, Norwegians and
Icelanders; we also had some Americans from the Eastern, Middle and
Southern States, all mixed together. Many of them had never driven an
ox one mile in their lives, and the result was almost like herding
a train on the plains. If it had not been for G. L. Farrell, James
Hickson, Samuel Garnet and Willis Brown, all excellent ox teamsters,
besides some five or six others that were quite handy, we would
doubtless have had most destructive stampedes. As it was, the company
did not have any serious mishaps. In a few days the train became
regulated and we had more system and order in travel. For the first
five or six days of the journey the stock seemed in danger of being
destroyed by flies and mosquitoes, and the people suffered much from
the same cause. On the 18th we passed Captain Rowley with the handcart

On June 19th the camp stopped on the Loup Fork, a tributary of the
Platte River. There was a small town there called Columbus. On the 20th
the company moved up the river and camped on a small stream, Looking
Glass Creek. That afternoon I baptized and rebaptized eighty souls,
and other Elders confirmed them, while some men of the company bridged
the stream. On the 21st we proceeded to Genoa Ferry, where we were
joined by Captain Walding's company of thirty-seven souls and ten more
wagons, thus increasing my company to three hundred and ninety persons
and sixty-nine wagons, with cattle and other property in proportion.
At that place we chartered the ferry boat from J. Johnston and did the
work ourselves. We paid seventy-five cents a wagon, and it took fifteen
hours' hard labor to cross. The stock all swam safely over, and the
company camped on the west bank. The handcart company came up that
night about 10 o'clock. On the 23rd our company proceeded up the river.

We met with a company of Sioux Indians on the 24th. These formed a
line of battle across the road ahead of the company, and sent two men
to meet us. I was traveling in advance of the company, and although
I had never been among the Sioux Indians in my life for an hour, nor
had I ever been where I had an opportunity to study their language, I
had not the slightest difficulty in talking to them, or they to me.
Consequently I learned at once that these Indians were on the war path,
and were hunting the Omahas and Poncas. They were hungry and said they
must have food from the company; so they were told to form a line
parallel with the road, and to keep one-fourth of a mile back, so as
not to stampede the train or frighten the women and children. They were
allowed to send two men on foot to spread blankets where the company
could put such food as we had to share.

Meanwhile I gave orders to the sergeant of the guard, G. L. Farrell,
and the several captains to draw up in close order, have every teamster
in his place, and all the women and children in the wagons, and for
each man to have his gun where he could lay his hand on it without a
moment's delay. Each family was to place some food on the blankets by
the roadside. Not one team was to stop without orders. The wagons were
to be corralled as quickly as possible, if they must be, at the first
signal from the captain to do so; for the Indians appeared very warlike
in their paint and feathers.

When the red men learned that it was a company of Mormons they had
met, they readily complied with the captain's terms, and a number rode
up and shook hands with him. As the company passed their lines of not
more than one hundred and fifty warriors, there came fourteen buffalo
in sight, quite close, and attention was turned to them so much that
the Indians took what the company had placed on their blankets and we
passed on without further interruption.

It was about this date that the teamsters had become acquainted with
their teams and the latter acquainted with their drivers, so that
things began to work more orderly than before. The camp was called
together every evening for prayers, and for instructions for the next

About the 26th the company started across from the Loup Fork to Wood
River. That night the stock took fright and gave some trouble before
they were recovered; but the next morning the company resumed its
journey, leaving Wood Birdno to pursue two valuable young fillies, one
his own and the other belonging to Captain Brown. Mr. Birdno did not
overtake the company till the fifth day.

One evening the company camped on a tributary of the Platte River,
where Almon W. Babbitt was killed by the Sioux Indians some eighteen
months or two years before. The company crossed the stream and camped
just opposite where that terrible tragedy occurred, and just as the
cattle were being unyoked the Sioux Indians flocked into camp, all
well-armed warriors. I saw that it was quite possible that they meant
mischief, as there were no Indian families in sight; so I called to
the company to continue their camp duties as if nothing unusual had
happened, but for every man to see to his firearms quietly and be ready
to use them if an emergency should arise. Then I turned to the chief,
and it being again given to me to talk and understand the Indians, I
asked what their visit meant, if it was peace that they go with me to
the middle of the corral of wagons and smoke the pipe of peace and have
a friendly talk, as myself and people were Mormons and friends to the
Indians, and that I wished them to be good friends to me and my people.

The chief readily responded, and called his peace council of smokers
to the center of the corral, where they seated themselves in a circle.
I took a seat to the right hand of the chief and then the smoking and
talking commenced. The chief assured me that their visit was a friendly
one, and to trade with the emigrants. I inquired of him why, if their
visit meant peace, they all came so well armed. He answered that his
people had just pitched camp a short distance back in the hills, and
not knowing who we were had come down before laying down their arms.

By this time it seemed that there were about three Indians to one white
person in the camp. I told the chief that it was getting too late to
trade, my people were all busy in camp duties, and I was going to send
our stock to where there was good feed for them. It was my custom, I
said, to send armed men to watch over them, and the guards always had
orders to shoot any wild beast that might disturb them, and if anybody
were to come among the stock in the night, we thought them to be
thieves and our enemies. If they attempted to drive off our stock, the
guards had orders to shoot, and our camp guards also were ordered to
shoot any thief that might come prowling around camp at night. I said
that, as we did not desire to do the Indians any harm, we wished the
chief and his men to go to their camp, as it was now too late to trade.
But in the morning, when the sun shone on our wagon covers, not when it
shone on the mountain tops in the west, but when it shone on our tents
and wagon covers, they could leave their arms behind and come down with
their robes, pelts and furs, and we would trade with them as friends;
but he was not to allow any of his men to visit our camp or stock at

The chief said that was heap good talk, and ordered his people to
return to their own camp. They promptly obeyed, to the great relief
of the company, which had been very nervous, as scarcely one of them
except myself had ever witnessed such a sight before.

Next morning, between daylight and sunrise, the Indians appeared on
the brow of the hill northeast of camp. There seemed to be hundreds of
them formed in a long line and making a very formidable array. Just as
the sunlight shone on the tents and wagon covers they made a descent
on us that sent a thrill through every heart in camp, until it was
seen that they had left their weapons of war behind, and had brought
only articles of trade. They came into the center of the corral, the
people gathered with what they had to trade, and for a while a great
bargaining was carried on. For once I had more than I could do in
assisting them to understand each other, and see that there was no
disturbance or wrong done in the great zeal of both parties.

The trading was over without any trouble, there was a hearty shaking of
hands, and the company resumed its journey up the river, passing and
being repassed by numerous companies moving west to Pike's Peak and to
Utah, California, or Oregon. There were gold seekers, freighters, and a
host of families of emigrants; and as the company advanced to the west
we met many people going to the east. They were traveling all ways,
with ox, horse and mule teams, as well as by pack trains of horses and
mules; while some were floating down the Platte River in small row

I have omitted many dates, but feel that I must say that some time
in July we came up with Captain Horton Haight, who started two weeks
ahead of us, with a Church train of seventy-five wagons of freight.
Both trains passed Fort Laramie that same day. Mine camped seven miles
above the fort on the river, where we laid over the next day, and had
our wagons unloaded and thoroughly cleaned from the dust and dirt;
then they were reloaded so as to balance their loading anew. All sick
cattle were doctored, while the female portion of camp washed and did
considerable baking. The next day we proceeded on to the Black Hills,
in good spirits, the people generally well and encouraged. The road
then began to be rough and gravelly, so that the cattle began to get
sore-footed, and that changed the tone of feelings of some of the

We went on in peace over hills and dales to the Sweetwater, thence up
that stream to what was called the last crossing, where we stopped
one day, and again overhauled our load, doctored sick cattle, baked,
etc. From there we crossed the summit of the great Rocky Mountains to
Pacific Springs, so called because their waters flow down the Pacific
slope. From that point we traveled over very sandy plains and saleratus
deserts, to the Little Sandy, then to what was called the Big Sandy,
and thence to Green River, the last hundred miles being the most
soul-trying of the whole journey, owing to being sandy and poisonous to
the stock. We traveled day and night, all that the cattle could endure,
and in fact more than many of the people did endure without much
complaint and fault-finding.

After a day's rest on the Green River, however, and being told that
there was no more such country to cross, the train entered on the last
one hundred and fifty miles of the journey, crossing over to Ham's
Fork, then to Fort Bridger on Black's Fork, and on to the two Muddys
and to Quaking Asp Ridge, the highest point crossed by the emigrant
road. From there we went down into Echo Canyon, then to Weber River,
crossed it and over the foothills to East Canyon Creek and to the
foot of the Big Mountain, where we met Apostles John Taylor and F.
D. Richards. A halt was called to listen to the hearty welcome and
words of cheer from the Apostles. Then the company passed over the Big
Mountain to the foot of the Little Mountain, where we camped. Many of
the people were sick from eating chokecherries and wild berries found
along the roadside.

Next day we proceeded to the top of Little Mountain. When I saw the
last wagon on the summit, I left the sergeant, G. L. Farrell, in
charge, and went ahead to report the approach of my company and their
condition, as there were one hundred or more without food for their
supper. I called first on General H. S. Eldredge, and took dinner with
him. He received me very kindly, and accompanied me to President
Brigham Young's office. The President welcomed us as cordially as a
father could. After he had inquired and was told the condition of the
company, he sent word to Bishop Edward Hunter to have the tithing yard
cleared for the cattle, to have cooked food for all who needed it, and
to have the company camp in Union Square.

When steps had been taken to carry out these orders, I called at my
father-in-law's in the Fourteenth Ward, where I learned that my family
were well. Then I went back, met the company on the bench east of the
city, and conducted it down to the square, where we found Bishop Hunter
and a number of other Bishops and people of the several wards, with
an abundance of cooked food for supper and breakfast for the whole
company. Several of the Twelve Apostles were on the ground to bid the
company a hearty welcome, and delivered short addresses of good cheer.
This was August 29, 1859.

Next morning, the 30th, Orson Hyde, Orson Pratt, Wilford Woodruff, Ezra
T. Benson, Charles C. Rich and Erastus Snow of the Twelve Apostles,
Bishop Hunter and other prominent officers of the Church, came to the
camp, called the people together, and again bade the Saints welcome to
our mountain home. They advised the people where to go, and what to do
to support themselves for the winter.

It was while yet on the Union Square that Apostle Charles C. Rich told
me that he and others had been called to take a mission to England,
leaving home in the spring, and that they would like me to go with
them; he thought I had better shape my affairs so that I would be ready
for the call.

During the day the people found shelter and friends, and I reported
to the _Deseret News_ office and to President Young, who told me I was
honorably released from any further responsibility for the company.

On our journey across the plains we had two deaths in the company, and
five births, and had lost twenty-five head of cattle--a very small
percentage compared with losses in general.

After the interview with President Young, I followed up my brother
Willis, who had gone ahead with our team. We stopped that night at
Charles C. Rich's, twelve miles north of Salt Lake City, and on
September 1st reached my home in Ogden City, where we found all well
and pleased to meet us again.

At Ogden many friends and relatives called to see us. In a day or two
after our arrival, we went to cutting bulrushes along the slough on
the bottom lands, with a scythe, that being the only chance for us to
winter our stock. In a short time we purchased a wagon load of butter
and eggs, and took it to Camp Floyd, forty miles southwest of Salt Lake
City. We made a good profit on that load, then made a second trip and
had stolen from us one of our mules worth one hundred and fifty dollars.

As we could not get a trace of the mule, Willis returned to the city to
get another animal, so we could move our wagon. About 12 o'clock one
night, while he was gone and I was sleeping alone in the wagon, the
moon shining bright and clear, a thief cut the hind end of the wagon
cover open, and drew out one of the quilts. As he was taking the second
I awoke and caught him in the act. I asked what he was doing there,
and was told it was none of my business, but to get out of his wagon,
or he would send an officer after me. At the same time he put his hand
on an old fashioned United States holster pistol that he had in his
belt, then staggered off, feigning drunkenness. I saw that he went
into a corner where he could not pass out, so I hastened and called
the landlord, Mr. Kinney, a man about sixty years old, and told him
what had happened. Said he, "If he went in there he cannot get through
that way." He peeped into a dark corner, where the buildings were so
close that a man could not squeeze through. "Here he is; come out, you
thief," said he, and the midnight marauder made a break to pass. The
old gentleman struck at him as he went by, and the next instant I had
him by the throat. By that time the thief had got his pistol disengaged
from his belt, but before he could turn it towards me I caught it from
his grasp, threw him heavily on the ground, and held him there till Mr.
Kinney brought an officer.

Meanwhile we were surrounded by half a dozen gamblers, one of whom
said to the thief, "What are you doing down there, Rainbow?" A second
ordered him to get up. They all seemed to know him, but all were
strangers to me. I had passed the pistol to the old landlady, who
brought it out, offered it to the officers, and told them she saw the
thief try to shoot me when I snatched it and passed it to her. At that
the thief swore the weapon was not his, but mine, and that I had drawn
it to shoot him. Then the officers told me to keep the pistol, and they
let the thief go to a saloon in a gambling house, where he treated the
crowd, and told them that he had an engagement for a woman to meet him
there that night, but he found a man instead, and that was all there
was of it. At that the officers liberated him, and I concluded that I
had got into a den of thieves, so disposed of my load and left for home
as soon as I could. All the profit that we had made in the first trip
was lost in the second, for we never recovered the mule.

The weather being cold, we threw up that business and took a contract
amounting to two hundred and fifty dollars on the Ogden Canyon road,
and in the bitter cold weather of winter worked till the job was
completed. That work finished, we took another contract to get out
timber for the first county jail in Weber County, and continued to work
in the canyon until April 1st. The winter had been so long and severe
that we sold part of our wearing apparel and bed clothes for hay to
keep life in our animals.



SOME time in February of this year (1860), I received a letter from
President Brigham Young, informing me that I had been selected to
accompany Apostles Amasa M. Lyman and Charles C. Rich on a mission to
Great Britain, starting in April. The letter authorized me to call on
Bishop Chauncey W. West, to have my city and five-acre lots fenced and
cultivated by labor tithing, for the benefit of my family; also for the
Bishop to furnish my family, from time to time, with such necessary
articles as they needed and could not otherwise obtain. I called on the
Bishop as authorized, and showed him the letter, but the work he was
called on for never was done, and my family suffered in consequence.

I settled my business and prepared for the mission, and in April
attended conference in Salt Lake City, where my name was presented and
sustained with those of many others called to perform missions. On the
19th of April, I blessed my family and bade farewell to them till I
should be released from the duty which now rested upon me of preaching
the Gospel among the inhabitants of the British Isles. I had a ham
and a few articles of food, a light change of clothing, and my rifle.
These I put in the wagon of H. Hanson, who was starting to Salt Lake
City, on his way to fill a mission in Denmark. Then, with my shot-pouch
and a new pair of boots across my shoulder, I began my journey from
Ogden, intending to hunt up a yoke of cattle I had on the range, and
drive them to Salt Lake City. Not a dollar of money did I have--I was
entirely without purse or scrip. I found my cattle, drove them to Salt
Lake City, turned them over to my father-in-law, Nathan Tanner, to pay
a debt I was owing and to obtain some flour for food on my journey, and
I was ready on April 20th, the date appointed, to leave on my mission.
But some of the others were not ready, and the departure was postponed
to April 25th.

On the last named date, we gathered at the Church historian's office
in Salt Lake City, to be set apart and receive instructions for our
missions. President Brigham Young there gave us counsel never to
be forgotten, and our hearts rejoiced therein. Each of us received
a certificate of our missionary appointment, signed by the First
Presidency, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, and Daniel H. Wells.
We were then instructed to meet next day, the 26th, at the mouth of
Parley's Canyon, and to proceed therefrom under command of Joseph W.
Young, our baggage being hauled by teams owned by the Church that were
going to Florence, Nebraska.

President Young had designated me to take charge of one of the teams,
with permission to leave it when Apostles Lyman and Rich overtook us,
which they expected to do in three or four days. Thus I had in my care
four yoke of oxen and a large government wagon; and, in company with
several others, went to President Young's mill south of the city. We
took on from a thousand to twelve hundred pounds of flour to each
wagon, and proceeded to the place of rendezvous, where there were
gathered thirty wagons, with about forty missionaries and the Beebe and
Buzzard families, who were going back to their farms in Iowa.

On April 17th, Presidents Young and Wells came out and organized the
company, appointing Joseph W. Young as captain, and John Woolley
as sergeant of the guard. Myself and two others were selected as
chaplains. The company was instructed as to necessary duties in
crossing the plains, and we started. Our route was up Parley's Canyon,
then down Silver Creek to the Weber River, thence up to the mouth of
Chalk Creek. At the Spriggs coal pit a number of us visited the mine,
the tunnels of which went straight into the mountain side. Then we
proceeded across to Bear River, and followed along the Big Muddy. The
Beebe and Buzzard families and E. D. Woolley and company continued on
by way of Fort Bridger, while the rest of us made a road across the
bend of the Muddy.

Apostles A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich overtook us on May 4th, and we all
camped together that night. Walter M. Gibson and I were transferred
to Samuel White's wagon, and on the 5th we bade farewell to Joseph W.
Young's company, taking an early leave of them, and proceeded to Ham's
Fork, on which we camped for the night. There I was made captain of the
company, with John Tobin as sergeant of the guard, and W. H. Dame as
chaplain. Guards were placed out to take care of the stock. That night
there was quite a snowstorm.

Next morning, the weather was cold and disagreeable. We made our way
to Green River, where we met some people who had apostatized from the
Church, and were going back to St. Louis; we also met some Shoshone
Indians who were friendly. We camped on the Big Sandy that night, and
had quite a hunt for our animals, which strayed off because there was
so little grass. But we recovered all of them.

On May 10th we came to Pacific Springs, where we met Buzzard, Beebe,
Woolley and company, and received them into our company without any
change in organization. That day we crossed over the South Pass and
the Sweetwater River, and camped on Willow Creek. Next day we went
through a number of snowdrifts, passed over the Rocky Ridge and to
the Sweetwater, following along the river. That night we met a party
of Shoshone Indians returning from a fight with the Crow Indians. The
following morning, the 12th, we missed part of our animals, and were
detained till 11 o'clock securing them again. We then moved forward on
our journey, and on the 13th, at the second crossing of the Sweetwater,
encountered a severe snowstorm.

From then till the 18th the wind was very high, and the weather
disagreeable. Grass was very scarce. On the 14th we met a band of
Arapahoe Indians on a buffalo hunt, and on the 15th met Captain
Reynolds with a party of explorers. We afterwards heard that the
entire party were killed by Blackfeet Indians, on the headwaters of
the Missouri River. On the 18th, as we were traveling down the Platte
River, Sergeant Min, with a small party of soldiers from Fort Laramie,
searched the wagons in our company for three deserters from Camp Floyd.
There were two of them in our camp. They had come to us in Parley's
Canyon, saying they had been discharged. One of them, George Kelly,
showed his discharge papers, but he had re-enlisted, and deserted after
receiving his bounty. The other was a servant who had stolen a gold
watch. His name was Alexander Demster. Both were taken to Fort Laramie.

On May 20th we arrived within seven miles of Fort Laramie, where we
rested our animals and attended to necessary work for proceeding
farther. We also built a raft and went across to the fort for our
mail, getting a few letters. There was none for me. We wrote to our
families, and on the 22nd again moved forward. This time we had two
other discharged soldiers with us; one of them had a wife and child.
I had changed from Samuel White's wagon to D. Savage's, and drove his
six-mule team most of the way. From the 23rd on we met many people
bound for California, Oregon, or the Pike's Peak gold mines.

We passed Chimney Rock on May 25th, and rested that evening at a
fair camping ground. There had been some dissatisfaction on the part
of owners of teams because the grass had been short and the animals
were not doing well. Fault was found with the camping places, and as
Apostles Lyman and Rich often had been consulted and had suggested the
location for camp, these prominent members of our company felt that
if there were any blame in making the choice it belonged to them. So
the Apostles asked forgiveness for what they had done, and promised
they would have no more to do with directing the journeyings of the
company. When I found that I was deprived of the counsel of such men, I
resigned my office as captain. John Tobin also resigned as sergeant of
the guard. That night was passed with the camp in a disorganized state,
and next morning there was no one to lead out with orders to proceed.
The team owners and others found themselves well puzzled, and began
to realize the mistake that had been made. By advice of Apostle C. C.
Rich, I called the company together, but none knew what to do. Finally,
Elder Rich suggested that they elect as captain someone they would not
find so much fault with. The vote was for me, and at the request of
Elder Rich I again assumed command, and we moved on. John Brown was
selected as sergeant of the guard.

At Ash Hollow we learned that the St. Joseph and Great Salt Lake mail
coach had been robbed on Greasewood Creek, by Shoshone Indians, and
that the mail carriers had been killed. We were detained at Ash Hollow
several hours on the 27th, by the severe illness of A. Beebe's wife.
For several days thereafter there were high winds, and showers, making
the roads very disagreeable, so that it took us till May 31st to reach
Buffalo Creek, where we saw some buffalo. The next night we camped
ten miles above Fort Kearney. On June 2nd we called at Dr. Henry's
ranch for dinner, and seven miles further on reached the place where
Joseph E. Johnson and his brother had located, and were publishing a
paper called the _Mountain Echo_. At this point Nephi Johnson and Daniel
Babbitt left us, as they had reached the end of their journey. We
continued on four miles further, and camped.

Proceeding on our journey, we reached and crossed the Elkhorn River on
June 6th, and that night met and camped with a company of Latter-day
Saints crossing the plains with handcarts. The company was in good
spirits, and glad to see us, and we spent the evening in singing the
songs of Zion. Just as we had gone to bed, Apostle George Q. Cannon;
who had charge of the Church emigration that year, came up, in company
with Horton Haight and others, and we were glad to arise and shake
hands with him. He was a particular friend and brother with whom
several of us had traveled many miles and spent many pleasant hours.
After a long talk Elder Cannon turned in with me for sleep.

On the morning of June 7th, the members of the handcart company were
called together, and Apostles Lyman and Rich gave them some good
instructions. Then we bade them good-bye, and proceeded to Florence,
where we met many warm-hearted Saints from Europe. On the 8th, I
procured a span of mules from Horton Haight, and a carriage from George
Q. Cannon, and accompanied by J. C. Rich, crossed the Missouri River
to Calhoun, Harrison County, Iowa, where we met with my father and his
family. They were well, and greatly pleased to see me. We visited with
my relatives till the 11th, when J. C. Rich and I parted at Crescent
City, while I returned to Florence, where my father visited me on the
12th, and invited Apostles Lyman and Rich and myself to take dinner at
the finest hotel in the town, which we did. My father promised me there
that if he lived and was able to sell his property, he would accompany
me to Utah when I returned from my mission.

On June 15th, I went to Omaha in company with J. C. Rich, F. M. Lyman,
and R. McBride, where we were joined next day by A. M. Lyman, C. C.
Rich, G. Q. Cannon, and John Tobin. We took passage on the steamboat
_Omaha_ for St. Joseph, Missouri, where we landed on the morning of the
18th. That day while strolling through the city with Francis M. Lyman,
I first saw a locomotive and railway train in motion. It was to us a
grand sight, and we viewed it with admiration and satisfaction. At 6
a.m., on the 19th, we boarded the train, C. C. Rich, J. C. Rich and
John Tobin going to St Louis, and the rest of us to Quincy, Illinois,
where I left the party and went to Versailles, Brown County. There I
received a hearty welcome from relatives and friends.

I remained in that locality five days, until the 24th, visiting uncles,
brother-in-law, cousins, and other relatives, and also the farm on
which I was reared. At Versailles, on the evening of the 21st, I
lectured, by request, on my travels and experiences. The schoolroom
being too small to accommodate the people, the Methodist church was
procured, and was well filled, many of the audience being my old
schoolmates. They were glad to meet me, as I was to meet them.

I stayed that night with Joseph F. Vandeventer, and next day, in
company with him and his brother Thomas, visited my father's old farm,
then owned by William Knox. There were many changes about the place.
The cemetery was fenced into a pasture, and I was unable to find my
brother's grave. The fruit trees in the orchard were well grown, and I
was given some good apples and the best cider I ever tasted, made from
fruit from trees I had set out with my own hands.

That day's walk brought to my recollection my youthful days, my hunts
through the woods and my adventures, my toilsome labors in grubbing
underbrush and clearing the land, threshing wheat in the hot, autumn
sun, feeding stock in the cold winter, my cold fingers, benumbed body,
and frozen toes--once shedding my toenails through frost, and peeling
the skin off my feet--in short, I was reminded of much toil on the
part of my parents, brothers and sisters and myself, and of many days
of sickness with fever and ague. We returned to Versailles, and next
evening, the 23rd, after more visiting, I consented to preach, and was
given good attention by a large congregation. On the 24th, I went down
to the river landing at the mouth of Crooked Creek, with my uncle and
Joseph F. Vandeventer, but learning that the boats were uncertain, I
resolved to go to Meridotia and there take train for New York, in order
to meet Elder C. C. Rich. To do this, it was necessary for me to borrow
twenty dollars, which I did of Mr. Vandeventer. At 9 o'clock that
evening I was on my way, on the Quincy and Toledo line, passing through
the great Wabash valley. After several changes of cars, and crossing
North River on a ferry boat, I landed in New York City on June 26th,
without knowing a soul that lived there.

I walked up to Broadway, and took a Sixth Avenue omnibus to
Twenty-third Street, where I found the residence of Brother Jonas
Croxall, and introduced myself to his wife, as he was not at home. I
had eaten but two meals since I got into the cars at Meridotia, and
they cost me seventy-five cents. I had ridden over one thousand miles
on the cars from Illinois, and had ninety-five cents when I reached
the end of the journey. My supper that night was provided at Brother
Croxall's. About 11 o'clock in the evening Brothers Croxall and A.
M. Lyman came in, they having been on a visit together at Brother



THE 27th of June was spent with Apostle A. M. Lyman and J. Croxall,
walking about the city of New York. That day F. M. Lyman and Reuben
McBride arrived, and next day Apostle Lyman and his son Francis M. left
for Boston. With Reuben McBride, I visited the various departments of
the place where J. Croxall and his son worked. We then crossed East
River with Thomas Miller, and strolled through Williamsburg. We were
introduced to a Brother Stone and family, with whom we stayed all
night. On the 29th we were made acquainted with many Latter-day Saints
in Williamsburg, then crossed over to Brooklyn, where we went through
the navy yard and other places; at the first named place we went on
board the old ship of war _North Carolina_. That day we heard the salutes
fired for the _Great Eastern_, as she steamed up the wharf in New York.
The ocean monster was hailed with joy and enthusiasm. She had been
sighted at sea the evening before.

In New York City, on the 30th, we visited Barnum's museum, Castle
Garden, the postoffice, and had a view of the _Great Eastern_. I received
a letter from my family reporting all well. The 1st of July was Sunday,
and we met with the Latter-day Saints in Williamsburg. The speakers at
the meetings that day were Apostle C. C. Rich, Elder Walter Gibson and
myself. I crossed over to New York that night, and the remainder of our
stay in the city was the guest of Bernard A. Schettler, who treated me
very kindly. During the next few days we visited many factories, ships
and places of interest, and wrote letters home. On the 4th, which was
my thirty-second birthday anniversary, there was a grand celebration.
The militia of New York City paraded, passing the George Washington
monument in review. There was a grand fireworks display in the evening;
and in the afternoon we witnessed the aeronaut, Mr. Wise, ascend out
of sight with a balloon. On the 9th we sent to Washington for our
passports. W. H. Dame and I were appointed on the 12th to take the
money of our party, secure berths on the steamship _Edinburgh_, of the
Blackball line between New York and Liverpool, and to purchase articles
necessary for the journey across the Atlantic Ocean. We attended to
this duty on the 13th.

July 14th, our party, thirteen in number, went on board, and at 12
o'clock noon, the vessel left the landing. We paid twenty-five dollars
each for steerage passage. There were nearly three hundred passengers,
and the berths were all taken up, so our lot was rather hard. Being
very much crowded for room as well, it was plain that our part of the
voyage was not to be very pleasant; but we were on board and had to
make the best of it.

By the 18th we were off the banks of Newfoundland, in a dense, damp
fog, that obscured the sun and made it impossible to see more than a
few rods from the ship. The steam siren kept up a constant whistling,
to warn other vessels of our location and approach. The fog lasted till
the 23rd, when it lighted up, but the weather was cloudy, with some
rain. On the 24th a vessel bore in sight.

Next day we had headwinds, and the sun shone for a short time. We came
in sight of the southwest coast of Ireland, and at the cry of "Land!"
every countenance brightened. All were on deck to catch a glimpse of
the welcome scene. As this proceeding was going on, we heard the cry,
"Sail ho!" and in a short time there came into full view a fleet of her
majesty Queen Victoria's warships, eleven in number. They were steaming
along the coast to the south and in advance of us. Suddenly they
changed their course and came to meet us. When they drew near, their
signal flags were hoisted on the masts, making a beautiful and imposing

That night at 11 o'clock we ran into Queenstown, the harbor of Cork,
Ireland. There some passengers for Ireland, and mail were taken off,
and we headed for the coast of England, coming in sight of Wales the
next day.

Early on the morning of the 27th we were on the muddy, dark waters
of the Mersey, and soon landed in Liverpool, where the dank, smoky,
mildewed walls looked to us as if they had stood for a thousand years.
To our eyes the city had a very dismal and forbidding appearance.

After the usual custom house inspection, we sent our baggage to the
Latter-day Saints' office at 42 Islington, and walked there ourselves,
a distance of a mile and a half. At the office we met Elder N. V. Jones
and others, who received us very kindly. The following day we were
appointed to our various missionary fields, J. C. Rich and I being
assigned to Birmingham pastorate. That afternoon Elder Rich and I paid
a visit to Birkenhead, across the river Mersey, and met with some of
the Saints.

Sunday, July 29th, we all attended meeting with the Liverpool Saints,
in their assembly room on Great George's Street. Next day, Elder Rich
and I took train for Birmingham, passing through a tunnel a mile and
a half long on the route. Arriving at New Street station, Birmingham,
we hailed a cab and were taken to No. 163 Burton Place, Spring Hill.
There we had expected to find Elder Charles W. Penrose, but he was not
at home. His sister-in-law met us, and seemed surprised at our call. I
told her who we were, and we received a rather mistrustful invitation
to come in; but after questioning us some she became satisfied of our
identity, and provided us with something to eat.

Later, F. G. Blake, who was traveling Elder in that place, came in, and
we took a walk with him, meeting Elder Penrose. We all went to West
Bromwich that evening, and heard one Mr. Bird, an old apostate from
Utah, lecture against the Mormons. He was doing this for money, and the
large hall was full of people. He made many false accusations against
the Latter-day Saints, which were loudly applauded by his ignorant
hearers. After the lecture we returned to Birmingham, and stayed all
night at Elder Penrose's.

To us, Birmingham seemed as dark, smokey and mildewed as did Liverpool;
but it was well located. The place was one of the busiest manufacturing
centers of the world. The railway lines passing through do not obstruct
or occupy the streets; on one of the roads, which is built on a series
of arches, the cars run level with the chimneys on three-story houses;
and other roads pass beneath the city, running under large houses.
The New Street station was one of the best and most commodious I have
ever seen; indeed it is now one of the largest in the world, occupying
eleven acres, with a fine iron and glass roof eleven hundred feet long.

After visiting from house to house with the Saints on August 1st, we
preached that evening in the Oxford Street Hall. Next day our visiting
continued, and we found a dull spirit among the people. Trade was
very bad, and the working people were extremely poor. Many of them
were unable to give us a good meal of victuals unless they suffered
themselves in consequence; yet they seemed very kind to us, but
sluggish in spirit. That night we preached in Hockley Chapel, Farm

On the 3rd we visited the different markets in the city; on the 4th
met Elders A. M. Lyman, C. C. Rich and N. V. Jones; and on the 5th
were with the Saints in conference in the Odd Fellows' Hall, where
large congregations assembled. The presidents of the branches in the
Birmingham conference made favorable reports, and the Gospel was
preached by Apostles Lyman and Rich and others of the Elders. That
night J. C. Rich and I stayed at Brother Acock's. It did not seem
possible to get the people into the notion of going to bed before
midnight; that seeming to be the custom in the English cities.

The Gillott steel and gold pen factory was the object of an interesting
visit by J. C. Rich, F. G. Blake and myself on August 6th. We passed
through the factory, and saw the work from rolling the large bars
of steel down to finishing the pen ready for use; there were four
hundred persons employed in the factory. That evening the Elders met in
council, and J. C. Rich and I were appointed to labor in the Nottingham
pastorate. Next day, in company with several others, I visited the
grave of Elder James H. Flanagan, who died while on a mission; his body
was interred in the old Birmingham cemetery. In the evening we had a
pleasant sociable at the home of Brother Smith, and next day J. C. Rich
and I took the train for Nottingham, where we were met at the station
by Elder Edward Reid, president of the conference, and were conducted
to No. 24 Promenade, Robinhood Street, where the wife of Elder David
John had dinner waiting for us. We next went to Radcliffe Chapel,
where we met with a goodly number of Saints, and preached to them.
Elder David John presided over the Nottingham pastorate. The day after
reaching the town I took a severe cold, and had to lay by the next day.

We found Nottingham a very different place to Liverpool and Birmingham.
The town and adjacent country were not so smoky and unhealthful. The
town had about one hundred and eighty thousand inhabitants, and was the
center of the silk and cotton lace and hosiery industries.

On Sunday, August 12th, Elders A. M. Lyman and N. V. Jones (who had
come from Liverpool) and I preached to the Saints; on the 13th J. C.
Rich and I went to visit G. Wright, at the request of his niece who
lived in Utah; his home was at Fisherton, on the river Trent, and after
an unwelcome greeting there we returned to Nottingham. Next day we went
to Mansfield with Elder James Payne, passing through the place where
Robin Hood roamed. That evening we preached to the Saints, then spent
the next two days preaching in different villages. At Pixton, on the
16th, we visited a coal pit.

Leicester, the county seat of Leicestershire, and center of the boot
and shoe trade, was our destination on August 19th. We preached there
that night, and on Monday visited the museum. The rest of the week we
spent in visiting and preaching in several villages, then returned to
Nottingham. At Loughborough, on the 22nd, our meeting was disturbed
by several rude young men, who laughed and asked questions in an
offensive manner. A stone was hurled through the window at me, while I
was preaching. It passed just in front of me, but no one was hit. The
meeting was dismissed in confusion.

On the 26th, we went to Derby for a couple of days. My health continued
to be very poor during this period of my travels. Burton-on-Trent, a
place noted for the brewing of malt liquors, was visited on the 28th,
and that night I preached at Branston, then stayed at the house of a
chimney-sweep named Doman. He had been in the Church nineteen years.
Next day we preached in the pottery district, then returned to Derby,
where, on the 31st, we went through Fox & Company's shot factory, going
to the top of the tower, two hundred and twenty steps. That evening we
went to a theatre.

During the first part of September, I traveled and preached, visiting
Nottingham, Derby, Belper and several adjacent villages. I attended
the Derby races on the 6th; there were about twenty thousand people in
attendance. On the 12th, I left Nottingham for London in company with
Brothers J. C. Rich and Blackburn, and Sister Cook and daughter, going
via the Midland railway. From St. Pancras station we went to Brother
John Cook's, at No. 30 Florence Street, Cross Street, Islington,
London, where I made my home during my stay in the metropolis. There we
met with Elders John Brown, F. M. Lyman, and John Gleason.

I remained in London and vicinity until October 3rd. During our stay
at the national capital we visited many interesting places, among them
being the tunnel under the Thames, which is reached by a flight of one
hundred steps, is four hundred yards from end to end, and while we were
passing through there were some fifteen to twenty ships lying above it,
and steamboats passing over it up and down the river. We visited the
British hospitals for invalided soldiers and sailors, and went from
there to Greenwich, whence is measured longitude east and west, and
where we also saw the standard weights and measures of Great Britain.

The British Museum; the King's Library; Westminster Abbey, where Great
Britain's rulers are anointed and crowned by the archbishops of the
Church of England; the Parliament buildings, wherein are the House
of Lords and House of Commons, with the throne and the woolsack;
Buckingham Palace, the city residence of Queen Victoria; St. Paul's
Cathedral, which was undergoing repairs; National Gallery; Cattle
Market; Zoological Gardens, with the giraffe, the hippopotamus, the
rhinoceros and all manner of beasts and birds; South Kensington Museum;
Hyde Park; White Tower of London, where are the block and ax used in
beheading Queen Anne Boleyn and Mary, Queen of Scots, also the royal
regalia, and much other material of historic value; London Bridge, with
its vast traffic; Crystal Palace with its tower four hundred and twelve
steps to the top, from which can be seen six counties of England;
Anatomical Museum; Madame Tussaud's Bazar; the Dockyards, and the rich
residence portion of London, all were visited by us, and were very
interesting and entertaining.

On September 13th we attended a tea party of the Saints near King's
Cross station. Several times I preached to congregations, both on the
Surrey side of the Thames, and on the north side. On the 14th, Elders
A. M. Lyman and N. V. Jones came from Scotland to London. I received a
letter from home on the 25th, Tuesday, bringing the sad intelligence
of the death of Deseret Ann, my second daughter, also of the birth to
her mother, my wife Rebecca, of a daughter. I wrote an answer to that
letter the same day. During the time I was in London I had a severe
cold and my health was far from good. I returned to Nottingham on
October 3rd, via the Great Northern railway, and resumed my missionary
labors in that conference.



THE month of October was occupied in traveling and preaching in the
district where I was assigned to labor as a missionary. In fulfilling
this calling I visited, besides the town of Nottingham, which was
headquarters, Derby, Leicester, Burton-on-Trent, Radcliffe, Arnold,
Hucknall, Mansfield, Pixton, Ilkiston, Woodhouse, Wirksworth, Mount St.
Bernard, Tutbury and other places, preaching in some of them several
times. On October 23, I visited the Mount Saint Bernard monastery, and
a reformatory for incorrigible boys. The first named was a Catholic

November was occupied similarly to October, and in addition to most of
the places visited in the last named month, I was at Belper, Carlton,
Coalville and other small towns. On the 11th I baptized three young
women, Annie Simpson, Harriet Cadman and Eliza Bates. The weather
turning cold and stormy, my health was not very good. Apostle C. C.
Rich came on the 24th and on the 28th we went to Sutton, where I had to
stop for several days, I was so ill.

The month of December had some very cold and stormy weather, but my
health was somewhat improved. I continued in my missionary district,
going to several new places. I was invited by Sisters Underwood and
Burrows to take dinner on Christmas. Mr. Burrows was a policeman,
and was not a member of the Church. I stayed with him at his home
on Christmas night. The next evening we had a meeting in Radcliffe,
at which an unpleasant spirit was displayed by some. I advised the
Saints to fast and pray to get the Spirit of the Lord. Brother John
was offended with this advice, and remonstrated, and when the meeting
was dismissed there was a feeling of dissatisfaction among the people.
On the 30th of December I was appointed to the presidency of the
Nottingham pastorate, embracing the Nottingham, Derby and Leicester
conferences of the Church. I was quite ill at this time, with the
mumps. My appointment came from Apostles A. M. Lyman, C. C. Rich and
George Q. Cannon, the presidency of the European mission of the Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The opening of the year 1861 found me quite ill, and for the first few
days of January I was confined to my bed most of the time. On the 6th
we held conference in Nottingham, and on the evening before, Elders
A. M. Lyman, C. C. Rich, G. Gates, J. Gleason, C. Welsh, A. Orme and
H. Druce came to meet with us. We had a good time at the conference.
Elders A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich stayed with us till the 11th, and I
visited part of the time with them, going to various villages in the
neighborhood, where they preached. During the remainder of the month I
traveled and preached and attended to the conference books and business
generally. Brother David John came to me on the 28th, being very
sorry for the unpleasant remarks he had made, and we settled matters
satisfactorily to both, parting with the best of feelings. The next day
he and his family moved to South Wales. My health continued to be quite
poor. On the 30th I took a shock from an electric battery, hoping it
would do me some good.

My health was not much improved during the month of February; but I
continued my missionary visits and other duties, writing to my father
and family, and endeavoring to carry the Gospel message wherever I
could. On the 13th, at the urgent request of Sister Mary Wilson, I
visited her parents and sick sister at Newark, being kindly received
and invited to call again. From the 19th to the 23rd, Elder C. C. Rich
paid a visit to the conference and preached to the people.

On March 2nd I attended a meeting called at Pinxton to settle a
difficulty among some of the members of the Church. It had continued
about three years, but after a long meeting we succeeded in arranging
matters, and three of the parties concerned agreed to repent and be
baptized. My visits to the various branches continued. On the 6th I
baptized Wm. Burton, Miss Cadman and Miss Betts. On the 12th I was
associated in the confirmation of twelve persons who had been baptized
by Elder J. C. Rich the evening before. On the 25th of this month I
attended one of the Fowler and Wells lectures on phrenology, and was so
interested that on the 28th I obtained a phrenological chart of myself.

I attended a tea party on April 1st, about two hundred persons being
present. The evening was spent pleasantly, in singing, reciting and
speech-making and partaking of lunch. The next day I baptized seven
persons at Nottingham. In the course of my missionary duties, I called
a meeting of the Mansfield branch on April 9, to settle a difficulty
of long standing. I released from performing any Church official
duties all who held the Priesthood, because of continual jarring and
contention among them. On the 18th I went with some emigrating Saints
to Liverpool, to assist them, settling their business and getting their

At Liverpool, on the 19th, I accompanied Apostle C. C. Rich on a
search among the docks for a ship that could be chartered, but we were
not successful in finding one. The next day the Saints went on board
the ship _Underwriter_, which had been chartered previously for this
company, and I assisted those who had come with me to get settled on
the vessel. The next day, Sunday, the presidency of the mission went
on the ship, where the company was organized with Elder Milo Andrus
as president, Elders H. Duncan and C. W. Penrose as counselors, and
John Cook as steward. The migrating Saints were also given appropriate
instructions by Apostles Lyman, Rich and Cannon. Next day the vessel
sailed, and on the following day, Tuesday, I returned to my missionary
duties at Nottingham and vicinity. On the 29th, the day after holding a
conference at Nottingham, I baptized six persons.

In the early part of May--the 5th--conference was held in Leicester,
Apostle C. C. Rich being in attendance. He remained till the 9th,
preaching to the people in different places. On the 17th I received a
letter from Apostle George Q. Cannon, informing me that my district
had been enlarged, the Lincolnshire conference being detached from
Elder Joseph F. Smith's district and added to mine, so there were four
conferences in my pastorate. On the 20th I baptized one man and two
women who had been cut off the Church, but desired to return. Next day
I was a spectator, with about forty thousand other people, at a review
of the Nottingham Rifles, before the Duke of Newcastle, at Nottingham
Forest. On the 25th Apostle G. Q. Cannon came from Liverpool, held
meetings, and attended to business in conference.

On June 2nd I attended to three more baptisms, and on the 6th was at
the Sheffield conference, which was in charge of Elder Joseph F. Smith.
During my stay there I visited a large manufactory of steel and iron
ware, and called on the Norfolk giant, but he was too ill to be seen.
On the 13th I returned to Nottingham, traveling as far as Grantham with
Apostles Lyman and Rich, who went on to London. The remainder of the
month was occupied in my general duties. It was in this month that I
wrote to the _Millennial Star_, explaining how my name was James Brown,
and then because of others of the same name I became known as James
Brown 2nd, then James Brown 3rd, and had concluded to take my mother's
maiden name, Stephens, so that thereafter I would have an initial to
distinguish me, and be known as James S. Brown.

At Nottingham, on June 6, many poor people marched through the streets,
asking and singing for food, or money to buy it. The next day after
meeting, I was presented by Sister Elizabeth Wilson with a small
anchor, cross and heart she had made out of a stone she had picked up
on the beach at Folkestone, England. On the 8th I received a letter
from Apostle C. C. Rich, inviting Elder J. C. Rich and myself to meet
him and Apostle A. M. Lyman in London on the 14th, to take a trip to
Paris, France. Accordingly, I arranged the conference business, and we
were in London on the date named, attending conference.

Our contemplated visit to France had to be given up, however, as the
Apostles were called to Scotland to attend to some matters there. We
visited many places of interest in London, such as the Anatomical
Museum, the Polytechnic Institute, Crystal Palace, Bank of England,
the Fire Monument, the Docks, Tower of London, St. Paul's Cathedral,
Smithfield Market, the Mint, Windsor Castle, and Eton College. On the
17th, at Crystal Palace, we heard the chorus of three thousand five
hundred children. At Eton College we found the students inclined to be
impudent, throwing pebbles at passers-by and staring rudely at them.

During the latter part of my stay in London I was quite ill, and had
to remain indoors part of the time, once being in all day. I returned
to Nottingham on the 24th, where the only thing of particular interest
outside of my missionary duties that I observed during that month was
on the 30th, when I went out to the park and saw Professor Blondin
perform on the tight rope.



DURING the remainder of the year 1861 I was in very poor health, often
having to stay in my room all day, and when I was able to get about,
many times it was with great difficulty, as I was quite lame in my
hips and shoulder. I tried various applications and simple remedies,
but to little purpose. I moved around as best I could, however, and
by determined efforts I was able to attend to my duties, visiting the
Saints, and preaching the Gospel wherever opportunity offered, whether
at indoor or outdoor meetings. Sometimes, when I was able to get to
the meetings of the Saints, I was too ill to stand up and preach, but
toward the latter part of the year my health improved a little.

The civil war in America was on, having begun after I left; and on
August 5th I received a letter telling of the battle of Bull's Run,
near Manassas Junction, which was fought July 21, 1861, and in which
the Union forces were defeated. On the 16th of August I went to the
Derbyshire jail yard in Derby, and there saw a young man named George
Smith executed by hanging. He had murdered his father. From thirty-five
to forty thousand people witnessed the execution.

On the 1st of September Apostle George Q. Cannon was in Nottingham,
attending conference, and we had large meetings and an excellent time.
On October 1st Elder Joseph F. Smith and other missionaries came from
Sheffield on a visit, and remained several days, spending the time
among the Saints. At Nottingham we had a tea party in the Arboretum, at
which about two hundred persons were present. I was visiting the Saints
at Pinxton on December 14th, the day that Prince Albert, husband of
Queen Victoria, died at Windsor Castle.

I started for Birmingham on the 31st of December to attend a conference
of those in the British Mission who held the Holy Priesthood. This
conference began on Wednesday, January 1, 1862, and was largely
attended. We had a most enjoyable time in making reports of our
experiences and in receiving instruction and testifying of the
blessings of the Gospel. The meetings began at 10 a.m. and lasted
till 2 p.m., then at 4 p.m. and lasted till 7 p.m. They continued
through Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, the presidency
of the European Mission, Apostles A. M. Lyman, Charles C. Rich and
George Q. Cannon, being in attendance and directing the meetings. On
Sunday, the 5th, we met with the Saints in Odd Fellows' Hall, the
congregation numbering about fifteen hundred persons; an excellent
feeling prevailed. Next day the Priesthood meetings were concluded, and
on Tuesday I left Birmingham for Derby, in my own missionary district.
On the 27th of January I was in Nottingham, and baptized and confirmed
Elizabeth Hardy.

My health again became quite bad, but I performed my duties, preaching,
baptizing, visiting and conversing with the people on the subject of
the Gospel, and attending to the business in my pastorate, until March
5th, when I took the train for Liverpool. There I consulted Apostles A.
M. Lyman and G. Q. Cannon, and on the 7th Elder Cannon introduced me to
Dr. Smith, who pronounced my ailment neuralgia, and prescribed turkish
baths and the magnetic-electric machine. I remained in Liverpool till
the 22nd, occasionally visiting, in company with some of the Elders,
places of interest such as the new park and the botanical gardens. On
March 11th we saw the Liverpool races at Aintree, a suburb. There were
two plate races and the grand national steeple chase. At one hurdle
a horse fell on his rider and the latter was picked up for dead, but
he recovered; three other riders were unhorsed. About twenty thousand
people were in attendance at these races. It was while in Liverpool, on
March 18th, as I was walking through the northwest part of the town in
company with Elder George J. Taylor, that I saw hundreds of people in
the most degraded state in which I ever beheld human beings.

My health having improved a little, I returned to Nottingham on the
22nd, Apostle G. Q. Cannon's wife and child accompanying me. Mrs.
Cannon had been very ill, and had been advised to go to Nottingham in
the hope of the change benefiting her health. On reaching Nottingham,
I there resumed my missionary labors. My health again began to fail,
and early in April I received notice of my release to return home. On
the 7th of April Sister Cannon went to Liverpool in company with her
husband. I settled business of the conference and went to different
branches and bade the Saints good-bye. They exhibited their affection
for me by many words and acts of kindness. On April 13th I preached
my farewell sermon in Nottingham, and it was with mingled feelings of
sorrow and joy that I bade the Saints farewell--sorrow to leave them,
and joy to see the display of love toward me by both members of the
Church and numbers of people who were not members. On Monday, April
14th, I went to Liverpool. The next day I wrote the following, which
was published in the _Millennial Star_:

                                        "Liverpool, April 15, 1862.

"_President Cannon:_

"DEAR BROTHER:--I take pleasure in writing to you a brief report of
my labors in the ministry of the Nottingham District. On the 7th
of August, 1860, I was appointed by the presidency here, namely:
A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich, to labor as a traveling Elder in the
aforementioned district, where I continued my labors in company with
Elder Joseph C. Rich and under the pastoral charge of Elder David
John, until January 1st, 1861. I then received an appointment to the
presidency of the Nottingham District, composed of the Nottingham,
Derby, Leicester and Lincolnshire conferences, where I continued my
labors until the 14th instant, when I arrived in Liverpool, having
received your letter of release, with the privilege of returning to our
mountain home in Utah.

"I can truly say that I have taken much pleasure in my field of labor,
for I have seen my feeble exertions in connection with the Priesthood
laboring with me crowned with success. I have witnessed an increase
of the good Spirit among the Saints. We have not only witnessed these
symptoms of increase, but have added by baptism some two hundred and
fifty souls, besides many rebaptisms; and many misunderstandings of the
Saints have been corrected, so that, with a few exceptions, the Saints
are in fellowship with one another.

"In that district, I think, there have been some four excommunicated
and five disfellowshiped during the last twenty-one months; and with
the present year's emigration, we have two hundred emigrated from
that district. Suffice it to say, that the district is in a healthy
condition. The Saints are feeling very well, and are full of the spirit
to emigrate. Many strangers are becoming very much interested in our
meetings, insomuch that some of them attend regularly; and on Sunday
evening, the 13th, after I preached my farewell sermon in Nottingham,
some four or five strangers, whom I have no recollection of ever seeing
before,--shook hands with me, saying, 'God bless you,' and at the same
time they did not forget to bless me themselves, thus exemplifying
their faith by their works. I find the people in the midland counties
to be a kindhearted people; and when once you get the crust of
tradition in which they are encased cracked, so as to feed them with
the bread of eternal life, they generally receive it with great joy and

"Although I have not enjoyed very good health any of the time I have
been in this country, I feel sometimes to regret leaving the mission,
when I reflect upon the memory of so many warm throbbing hearts for
Zion, whose circumstances are rather forbidding at present; yet I
feel that if they would arouse with more energy and life, and be
more faithful in reading the _Stars_ and _Journals_, attend their
meetings, and be more faithful in their duties, and not pore over their
poverty so much, the time is not far distant when they will be able to
accomplish that most desirable object of going to Zion.

"And now I beg to bid good-bye to the Saints of the Nottingham
District, and say, may the God of Israel bless and preserve them,
together with all the Saints and the honest in heart in all the world.
And as I expect to leave this country on the 21st instant, I bid adieu
to her majesty's dominions and to all her subjects. I have lifted up my
voice and cried aloud, and spared not, till I feel that my skirts are
clear, so far as this mission to the British nation is concerned.

"And now with kind regards to yourself, Presidents Lyman and Rich, my
brethren and co-laborers in the ministry and the many faithful Saints
under their watchcare, I bid all an affectionate farewell, praying God
to bless and prosper every effort made to advance the interests of His

            "I subscribe myself your brother in the Gospel of Christ,

                                                    "JAMES S. BROWN."

I was variously engaged the next two days in preparing for the voyage,
and in assisting others. On Saturday, the 19th, I went on board the
ship _John J. Boyd_, on which we were to sail. That day a young man who
resided at Nottingham and who had been courting Miss Mary Oakey, from
the same district, came to Liverpool, and the young lady went out with
him. They were never seen again by us. We supposed they had eloped.

On Monday, the 21st, I again went on board. Apostles A. M. Lyman, C. C.
Rich and George Q. Cannon came on the vessel and organized the company
of emigrating Saints, with the following presidency: James S. Brown,
president; John Lindsay and J. C. Rich, counselors. The Apostles gave
us much good instructions and bade us good-bye, after which we made a
further temporary organization so as to call watches for the night;
then, after prayer, we retired, it being about midnight. Next day the
company was organized into nine wards, with a presiding teacher over
each. There were on board six hundred and ninety-six emigrating Saints,
and the crew, which made the total up to seven hundred and thirty-five

At half-past seven o'clock on the 23rd we weighed anchor, and the
vessel was towed about twenty miles out to sea, and left, in a strong
headwind. We beat about the Irish Channel all day, and about 4 p.m.,
drew so close to the Isle of Man that we could see the towns and
distinguish the houses. Then we tacked about and sailed away along the
coast of Wales. Nearly everybody on board was seasick, and one child,
about five months old, in a family named Hardy, died. It was buried at
sea on the 24th. Myself and counselors went among the people, waiting
on them and cheering them.

Next day the heavy headwind continued, and the seasickness seemed very
severe. I was affected myself, but still was able to help others. We
went along between the Isle of Man and the coast of Ireland, and by the
26th, when the wind became lighter, we could see the coast of Ireland
on our left and the Scottish hills on the right. We could also see the
Irish houses, farms and roads quite plainly. It was noon on the 27th
before we passed out of sight of land, the last we saw being a small
island off the northwest coast of Ireland.

From that time on we experienced all kinds of weather, from a dead calm
to a heavy gale. On the 1st of May the wind was so strong it carried
away the jib-boom and fore-top-gallant mast. On the 5th a little boy
named Benjamin V. Williams died from a fall down the hatchway on May
1st. Taking all things together, however, we got along fairly well.
Once we had to complain to the captain of rough treatment by the third
mate and some of the sailors, and it was checked. On May 21st we
sighted Sandy Hook, and on June 1st we cast anchor in the bay of New
York. On the voyage we had had cases of measles and whooping-cough, and
there were seven deaths in our company while we were at sea.

On landing in New York I received an invitation from Hon. Wm. H. Hooper
for the Utah Elders to stay at the Astor House at his expense. Eleven
of us availed ourselves of the courtesy extended. On June 2nd the
emigrants were landed and we proceeded west via Niagara Falls and the
lakes to Detroit, then by way of Chicago, Quincy and Hannibal to St.
Joseph, Missouri. From that point we went to Florence, Nebraska, by
steamboat, and there I turned over my charge to Joseph W. Young, who
was conducting affairs at that place.

I was next assigned to an independent company which had its own
outfit, and was selected as captain and guide. The company consisted
of two hundred and fifty souls, with fifty wagons and teams. We left
Florence in the latter part of June, and arrived in Salt Lake City on
September 23, 1862. I made my report to President Brigham Young, and
was honorably released. I stayed in the city till after the October
conference of the Church, then hastened home to my family in Ogden
City, finding them all well.



SHORTLY after my return from my mission to Europe, President Brigham
Young was in Ogden, and told me he wished me to locate my family in
Salt Lake City, preparatory to my going on another mission, if not a
foreign, a home mission; "for," said he, "I don't know of any people
on earth that need more preaching to than do the Latter-day Saints
at home. We send our Elders out to preach and to gather the people
from workshops and factories, then set those people down here in a
new country and leave them to do the best they can, without necessary
experience; and the result is that many of them get discouraged and
apostatize; whereas, if the Elders would keep the harness on, and
preach to and encourage them, they would stay and make good Latter-day

I moved to Salt Lake City according to President Young's advice, and
was about eleven months in his employ. Then, by his appointment, I
traveled through the Territory, preaching, and lecturing on my travels
and experiences. The people in Utah were liberal, giving me much
assistance, principally in the way of farm products.

In 1863 I purchased a lot from President Young, began the erection of a
two-story-adobe house, and moved into it in 1864. It was not completed,
and in August I went into the mountains to get finishing lumber. On the
night of the 20th of that month I was shot by a camp mate, in mistake
for a bear. The young man who shot me was Alexander Gilbert. The bullet
entered two-thirds of the way above my knee, on the inside of the left
thigh, and shattered the bone into many fragments. The weapon was a
United States yauger, and carried a half-ounce ball, which was broken
to bits, and, with parts of my clothing, including two pieces of a
brass suspender buckle, lodged in my limb.

The accident occurred in Alexander Canyon, about three miles above
Wanship, Summit County, between 11 and 12 o'clock at night. There were
four of us in camp at the time. The man who did the shooting ran and
told George G. Snyder, who was soon at my side with a team and light
spring wagon, and with some stimulants. He and my camp mates tenderly
lifted me on the bed, and conveyed me to the home of my father-in-law,
Nathan Tanner, in Wanship, where I was kindly cared for by him and his
family, and my own family notified of the accident that had befallen
me. My wound being of a most serious character, the best surgical
attention procurable at the time was obtained.

The surgeon advised amputation, but I objected as long as there was any
hope of saving the limb. I laid there till November, then was moved to
my home in Salt Lake City. For nine months I laid on my back, unable
to move from that position. During that time two surgical operations
were performed, taking out parts of shattered bone and the bullet. I
was reduced to a skeleton, and became so weak I could not feed myself
or even lift a sheet of paper between my thumb and finger. After the
second surgical operation, however, I began to improve, and in a few
weeks could get around with a crutch and a cane.

As I grew stronger, I was able to work some in my nursery; and when, in
the autumn of that year, 1865, the municipality opened the Warm Springs
to the public I was given charge thereof, and remained in that position
till the autumn of 1866. I was there at the time Dr. J. King Robinson,
who had had a dispute with the city over the Warm Springs property, was
killed, October 22, 1866. When I was brought from Wanship in November,
1864, after being shot, Dr. Robinson, as associate surgeon in my case,
was the first one to do any cutting on my limb.

During the time after I was able to move around, subsequent to the
months I had to lie in bed, my wounded limb gave me much trouble.
Abscesses would form, causing me severe pain, then would burst, and
when the pus was drained the flesh would heal again. But I was able
to perform only light physical labor, so when, late in the autumn of
1866, business fell off at the Warm Springs, I was notified that, as I
was unable to do all the work required and the bath house did not have
sufficient patronage to pay two men's wages, my services were no longer
required. While business was good I had purchased a hack, one of the
first in the city, to convey passengers to and from the Warm Springs,
the route being to the business part of town, but as traffic fell off I
had to dispose of the vehicle. Thus when I was thrown out of employment
I was left without means of obtaining a livelihood for myself and

I had some specimens of the gold I had discovered near the southeastern
boundary of California in 1849, when I was going on my first mission to
the Society Islands. I showed the specimens to President Brigham Young,
and in the spring of 1867, with a company which he had authorized me
to select, started for the California border, our destination being a
point in the desert known as Salt Springs. The company included Wood
Birdno, Lemuel Steele, Dr. Hickman, Robert Egbert and seven others
besides myself.

On reaching Los Vegas, we learned from white men, of whom there were
about fifty there, that the Indians were on the warpath. Two of the
savages had been killed by the white men, and their tribe was seeking
revenge. The red men had challenged the white men to come out of their
fort and fight; but the challenge was not accepted. We were warned that
to continue the journey meant certain death, so I told my companions
they were at liberty to return, but I proposed to go on. All of the
company elected to do the same.

We proceeded very carefully, and in going along a narrow canyon we
observed fresh Indian tracks. These were noticeable for about five
miles, but in that distance we saw no Indians, though we momentarily
expected them, and kept a sharp lookout. At last we discovered one
Indian who claimed to be friendly, but he left us soon--an action which
we accepted as an indication of trouble. In the afternoon we selected a
camping place on an almost bare knoll, where it seemed impossible for
a man to find shelter enough to hide himself. As I was very tired, my
companions spread some quilts for me to lie down on. Scarce had they
done so when a large Indian rose up from a little gully where he had
been hidden. He was within shooting distance, and was well armed. As
soon as we saw him, my companions seized their weapons, whereupon I
shouted "Hold on!"

The Indian made a motion as if to express a wish to shake hands, and
I threw my hand up and down again, in an involuntary movement, the
meaning of which I did not know in Indian sign language. The stranger
received it as a friendly invitation, and came forward and shook hands.
Again, as on former occasions, I had the gift of the tongue or language
which the Indians in this vicinity--near Williams' Ranch--spoke, though
I had never heard it before. I talked to him, and learned that there
were other Indians secreted close by. He called to them, and about
fifteen rose up and came to camp. I was informed that white men had
killed some of their number, and that one wounded Indian was lying a
short distance away. This one I asked to be brought in and laid near my
bed, which was done. Dr. Hickman examined his wounds, a shot through
the cheek and one in the hip, which he said were not fatal.

I also directed a piece of wagon cover spread out, and told the Indians
I wanted their weapons laid on that, which was done. Then some of our
company rolled the wagon cover up and tied it, so the guns could not be
got at readily if there were trouble. Then, when our guards had been
set for the night, we laid down and slept in peace and safety. We made
a bargain with the Indians to take care of our animals at a place where
there was good grass, and they did so.

The next day we moved on and met no further trouble or danger. We
reached our destination in due course, and examined the gold prospect,
which was quite rich. But there was no water within twenty-five miles,
and it was not practicable to work the mines with the methods within
our reach in those days. We had to give up and return home, our route
of travel being by way of the Colorado River as far as Call's Fort,
then by the settlements on the Muddy into Utah. I reported the trip and
its results to President Young.

At that time there had arisen some excitement over gold discoveries
on the Sweetwater, near South Pass. Fourteen years previous to that
date I had related to President Young how the Indians had told me of
gold in that locality. President Young showed me specimens that had
been brought him from the new discovery, and told me to get a few men
and see what I could do, as he believed it was a good opportunity for
me. I did so, and in July, 1867, in company with Foster Curtis, Brower
Pettit, Benjamin Brown and B. Y. Hampton, started for the Sweetwater.

Reaching our destination, we prospected for the precious metal. One
day I went out alone, and at the base of a slope near the Teresa mine
I discovered free gold. I dug a hole and worked at it, securing dirt
that carried fifty to sixty cents per pan. It was a placer claim, and
I decided that we would occupy it. While I was getting out some of
the gold, S. Sharp Walker came along and saw it, and on going to camp
told the men. I did not know this till after, but early next morning,
before daylight, I overheard a man in the tent next to our wagon tell
of a plan to seize the claim. A lot of men were there, Mormons and
non-Mormons. I awoke my companions, and it was agreed that they should
go and stake the claim, while I should get it recorded. This we did,
and had the work accomplished before day was fairly on. I reached the
claim, to which the others had preceded me, before those who intended
to jump it arrived at the place, and when the latter came up I was
prepared to defend it. One man said he had staked the claim before
us, but as his statement was not true, we stood him off and retained

Our party went to work, while I started to find my horses, which had
strayed away. As I rode up on a knoll, I discovered a war party of
seventy-five or eighty Indians, supposed to be Sioux. I had intended to
dismount and fasten my saddle, but finding I was discovered and that
about twenty-five of the Indians were closing in on me with horses much
faster than I had. I started for camp with the loose saddle, skurrying
over rocks and sagebrush. On the way back I found my horses and started
them, and they ran directly into camp. In the ride my foot came out of
the stirrup, and my lame limb dangled, beyond any power of mine to use
it. Two Indians ran close up on me and one drew his bow with a fixed
arrow. I straightened up, expecting to receive the missile in my back.
Just then some of the men who were in our camp, and who had heard my
shouts, came out and fired, and my pursuer turned to save himself,
while I escaped injury.

At the camp all was excitement. One man, Corinth Lawrence, had been
shot and scalped, his body being found some time after I came in.
Isador Morris had had a narrow escape. That day there were two others
killed on their way to camp. They were Anthony Showell, an eastern
man, and Orson Taylor, from Springville, Utah. Showell was found and
buried, but Taylor's body never was discovered, that I can recall.
In the camp there were George Naylor, Gilbert Webb, Jesse West, John
Pitts, Robert Watson, Jr., George Boyd and many others from Salt Lake
City, as well as men who had come from various parts of the country.
The man who had tried to jump the claim I had found assumed charge and
got the camp together, intending to make a stand in the brush. I knew
the danger of such a proceeding with seventy-five or eighty hostile
Indian warriors near, so, with my companions, withdrew to a better
position; soon all the camp followed, and we prepared for defense. The
intended claim-jumper, whose name I am unable to recall, was a partner
of Corinth Lawrence, and requested me to take charge of the funeral of
the dead man, which I did, and he was buried as carefully as we could
do it. That day I suffered greatly with my lame limb, and an abscess
burst and discharged freely.


Next morning we broke camp and returned home, for it was not safe to
remain there, in a hostile Indian country. Later in the season, Brower
Pettit and Foster Curtis returned to our claim, but it had been seized,
and was held by parties from California. There was a great rush in
of people, and the town of South Pass, or Atlantic City, was built.
The next spring I went out with more men, but our claim could not be
regained, so we had to give it up. The parties who seized it took many
thousands of dollars out of it. The second year, however, the mining
boom collapsed.

During the summer and autumn of this year, 1868, grading for the
Union Pacific Railway was going on. I hauled coal from Coalville to
Salt Lake City, and also hauled tithing produce from Ogden and Logan,
taking produce for pay, so that my family was well supplied with
provisions. On my last trip from Ogden I was caught in a snowstorm on
the sandridge, took a congestive chill, and almost died on the way.
When I reached home I was unable to get off my wagon. I was cared for
by my family, but suffered greatly, and in addition to the suppuration
in my thigh, the wound bled so as to endanger my life. Finally, on May
27, 1869, my left limb was amputated about four inches from the hip
joint. The surgeons were Dr. W. F. Anderson, Dr. H. J. Richards and Dr.
J. M. Bernhisel. Apostles Wilford Woodruff and George Q. Cannon were
present also. The operation which I had objected to for nearly five
years became necessary to save my life.

In a few weeks from the time of the amputation I was able to get out
a little, and pruned a few trees. From that time on I worked, though
it was under many difficulties, till I had pruned my nursery of ten
thousand trees, and had given them necessary care. I was able to be
present at the ceremonies at the entrance of the railway into Salt Lake
City, January 10, 1870. During the succeeding two years I attended to
my nursery, also traveled and lectured on my experiences and preached
as a home missionary, from Paris, Idaho, on the north, to St. George,
Utah, on the south. In the summer of 1871, while working in my orchard,
I was overcome by heat, having a slight sunstroke, some of the effects
of which have never left me. Still my health was better than before my
limb was amputated, and with crutches I got along fairly well.



ON the 8th of April, 1872, at the general conference of the Church in
Salt Lake City, I was called on a mission to the eastern part of the
United States, and hastened to settle my business preparatory to my
departure. At 5 p.m. on May 1st I left Salt Lake City, going by train
to Ogden, and then east. There were about twenty-five other Elders
in the company. My companion in the Pullman car was Moroni Brown, of
Ogden. On reaching Missouri Valley Junction, Iowa, I stopped over with
my brother-in-law, B. H. Dennis. On May 4th, I went to Calhoun and
preached in the schoolhouse; returned to Missouri Valley Junction on
the 6th, preaching in the courthouse. My father paid the expense of
securing the last-named building.

I continued my journey on the 7th going by way of Chicago,
Philadelphia, Newark and Jersey City, to New York. There we met with
Elder Wm. C. Staines, and on the 12th went with him to Brooklyn. On the
13th I was measured at Mr. Hudson's, 696 Broadway, New York, for an
artificial limb. The way I came to do this was through Leonard Wines,
of Salt Lake City. Mr. Wines and I had been good friends in our younger
days. In later years he had made some money on the mail line west,
and meeting me one day on the train the idea struck him that I ought
to have an artificial leg. The result was that he and some friends
whom he called on raised the necessary amount to pay for it, which sum
he presented to me, telling of his purpose. Naturally I had a high
appreciation of his kindness. It was on May 27th that I received the
artificial limb.

We obtained lodgings with Brother Isaac Elkington and family, and
visited and preached where we could. We met very little encouragement
from the people. On June 13th we left for Boston on a steamer of the
Neptune Line, going first to Providence, from which place we went by
rail to Boston, and thence to Portsmouth, N. H. At the latter place I
visited my father-in-law, Thomas Lester.

On the 17th of June we were at the World's Peace Jubilee, in Boston,
and also visited Bunker Hill and mingled with the vast assemblage
there. I paid a visit to the home of Thomas Lester, Jr., about fifteen
miles out from Boston, on the 18th, and then returned to New York,
where, on the 19th, we met President George A. Smith of the First
Presidency of the Church. He told us we were at liberty to return home,
as the antagonism was so great that there was no chance to preach
the Gospel to the people at that time. That evening we filled an
appointment at Paterson. N. J., staying at the home of W. Dover till
the 23rd, when we returned to New York.

Having been released from our mission, owing to the indifference of the
people, we started home the first of July. For some three years after
my return I traveled and preached as I had done formerly, in southern
Idaho, western Wyoming and northern Utah.

On Wednesday evening, September 29, 1875, on returning from a preaching
tour in the northern part of Utah County, I was informed by my family
that President Young had sent for me to do some interpreting in the
Navajo language. I had met the Navajo Indians going away from his
office, and as I knew my presence was not necessary then, and as I was
quite ill with a nervous headache, I did not go up till next day.

Going to see President Young, I met him in front of his office, in
his carriage. He said he had wanted me to talk with the Navajos, but
I was too late, for they were gone, "but," said he, "I knew you had
the spirit of it." He then drove off, and his private secretary, Elder
George Reynolds, invited me into the office, saying the President
wanted to see me particularly on missionary business. At this I went
inside and waited. Soon the President came in and after speaking to
some others who were waiting for him, came to me and said, "Oh, Brother
James, that I could see you as I have seen you, strong and active! I
should like to send you on a mission to those Indians, for you are just
the man to go there with a few other good men. The Spirit of the Lord
is upon them and they need a few men among them who will teach them the

To this statement I replied that I was unable to endure hardships and
exposure as I had done, for my health was very poor and I was not able
to wait on myself in camp life. I stated, however, that what the Spirit
of the Lord directed through him I was willing to try to do to the best
of my ability; and added, "You know where to find me; I am just where I
always have been, on hand."

President Young then said. "Bless your soul, the Spirit does and has
dictated to me all the time to send you to take charge of a mission
in that country. You are just the man for it, and if I had sent you
before, we would have had a mission and settlements there now. I think
that if we fit you up with a good spring wagon or carriage, and some
good brethren to wait on you, that you can go. Just get a list of names
of good men, and hand them to me--a list of men that will stand by
you, but none of your babies. I want good men to go with you on this
mission, so hand me a list of names."

When the conversation ended, I returned home, and after much thought
and prayer for the guidance of the Lord, wrote the following names, my
own at the head of the list: Daniel B. Roson, John C. Thompson, Seth B.
Tanner, Morton P. Mortenson, Bengt Jenson, Hans Funk, Ernest Tietjens
and John Davies. The latter got excused, and President Young added the
following: Andrew L. Gibbons, Luther C. Burnham, Thales H. Haskell, Ira
Hatch, Warren M. Johnson and William H. Gibbons. These were called on a
mission October 9, 1875, at the general conference. On Monday, October
11th, we were set apart for our mission.

I found some difficulty in collecting debts due me, over a thousand
dollars altogether, so that I could not get enough to fit me out
comfortably nor to provide for my family. Still I was determined to go.
When it came to parting from my family, it was hard to leave them, with
only ten days' supply of fuel and less than fifty pounds of flour in
the house, and not knowing where the next would come from. It seemed as
if they could not endure the separation when they saw me fitted out so
poorly. But I blessed them in the name of the Lord, and told them that
if they would live their religion they would not suffer so much want
when I was away as if I had stayed home. Then we separated sorrowfully,
and on October 30th I went by train to Provo. Some of the company had
preceded me a day or two. I had in the meantime received much personal
instruction from President Young, and was given the following letter:

                               "SALT LAKE CITY, U.T., October 28, 1875.

"_Elder James S. Brown. Salt Lake City:_

"DEAR BROTHER:--You are hereby appointed to take charge of the mission
about to go south and southeast of the Colorado River.

"It will become your duty to found settlements in suitable locations,
where the brethren can congregate in cultivating the earth to bring
forth substance for the families of the brethren who may feel disposed
to join you.

"You will work in harmony with other brethren who are now in the south
building up new locations, and will in all things seek the welfare of
those associated with you, and the building up of the kingdom of God.

"In the formation of settlements, and in all circumstances that may
arise on your mission, you will seek the wisdom of the Spirit of the
Lord, and be guided by its whisperings in all things from day to day.

"The brethren with whom you are associated are counseled to act under
your directions, that the spirit of union and concert of action may
characterize all your movements. And we call upon all men unto whom
you shall come to aid and assist you according to their ability in
promoting so good and glorious a cause as settling this rugged new,

"We would counsel you, if you will do it, to sustain each other as
brethren, and work together in the holy order that God has revealed.

"We pray God our Heavenly Father to bless and prosper you and to make
you instrumental in accomplishing much good to those with whom you are
called upon to associate, and to labor for on this mission, in the name
of Jesus Christ. Amen.

"Your brethren in the Gospel,

                                                     "BRIGHAM YOUNG,
                                                     "DANIEL H. WELLS,

"First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."

From Provo I got a ride with a team to Spanish Fork, where, on Sunday,
October 31st, I preached to the people, having great liberty of the
Spirit. Then Bishop Snell asked the people for a contribution and they
responded liberally, raising twenty-two sacks of flour, twenty-six
bushels of potatoes, and thirteen dollars in money. That night I went
on to Salem and preached, and also received a small donation from the
people. I next went to Payson, where I preached on Monday evening, and
where the people subscribed liberally, so that I had thirty-three dollars
in currency, fifty sacks of flour, and twenty-six bushels of potatoes.
Thus my words to my destitute family were fulfilled, and they were
provided for as well as myself.

At Payson I met some of my missionary companions, and we moved on
southward. Others joined us on the journey, and on November 9th we
reached Salina, where we pitched our tent and I camped out for the
first time on our trip. At Richfield we received contributions of
provisions, and again at Panguitch. Much of our journey between these
two places was in storm--rain and snow--and was far from comfortable.
On the 18th we crossed the rim of the Great Basin. We reached Kanab on
the 20th, where we were joined by the four brethren who had been called
from the southern settlements.

I left Kanab on November 22nd, going to Navajo Wells. Before leaving
Kanab I had telegraphed to President Young, written to my family, and
arranged with Bishop L. John Nuttall to have our mail sent after us as
soon as possible. At Navajo Wells I joined our party, and next day we
went on to the Buckskin Mountains, making dry camp that night. On the
24th we reached House Rock Spring, where we were overtaken with letters
from home. I had one from my eldest daughter. Lydia Jane, stating that
she was to be married to Homer Manley Brown on November 22nd. It had
been arranged before I left home that the wedding was to take place
this month.

We traveled steadily on, the country being dry and forbidding. Our
beef cattle having run off, Ira Hatch and Luther C. Burnham went to
find them. Burnham brought them into camp at Badger Creek, on the
26th, but it was 2 o'clock on the morning of the 27th when Ira Hatch
got in from his fruitless search. That day we went on to Lee's Ferry,
on the Colorado River. We had sent two men ahead to arrange for us to
be ferried over the river, but they reported that it was not possible
to cross that night. I thought differently, and as it was Saturday,
I determined to get over. Some of the party objected and some were
willing, and this division delayed our crossing with the wagons till
about 10 p.m.; but we were safely over the stream. Next day our animals
were ferried over. At the ferry, Mrs. Lee was out of provisions, and
we helped her to some, and also gave her ten dollars, of which I
contributed two dollars. Next morning she sent me a Navajo blanket and
a cotton handkerchief.

We left Lee's Crossing on November 29th, and continued over a dry,
rough, difficult road till December 3rd, when we reached Moancoppy,
the pleasantest spot we had seen since before arriving at Kanab. I was
impressed to make this place winter quarters, and designated a site
for a fort. We were all pleased to have a rest from traveling, as our
feed had given out and our stock was sick with the epizootic. Near this
place there were some old Indian farms and a few stone huts laid up
without mortar, but all had been deserted. There were also some springs
near by.

The morning after we had camped there, a small hunting party of Navajos
came in, and after we had given them their breakfast they smoked
their corn-husk cigarettes and departed. A. S. Gibbons, Ira Hatch and
I examined the country around Moancoppy, and found a few ponds of
water and a good place for a reservoir to catch the spring rains; we
also discovered a fertile spot of a few acres, and two small springs.
December 5th was Sunday. We held a meeting, and all our company,
thirteen in number, expressed themselves as feeling well and zealous in
our missions.

On Monday we explored the vicinity, but found nothing inviting outside
the neighborhood of our camp, where we all were satisfied a missionary
station should be built, as it was the best we could do. We went to
work getting timber and doing other necessary work, my part being
to guard against hostile Indians. T. H. Haskell and Ira Hatch, our
interpreters, went to the Oriba Indian village, some fifty miles away.
On their return they reported all was peaceful; they were accompanied
by Chief Tuba and his wife Telassinimki, who were highly pleased to see
their old Mormon friends.

On the 8th we laid out a house twenty by forty feet and twelve feet
high, to be built of stone. Our beef cattle having become very wild, we
had to kill them and cure the meat.

J. C. Thompson, Ira Hatch, S. B. Tanner, L. C. Burnham and I started
on December 9th on an exploring trip up the Little Colorado River and
around the San Francisco Mountains. When we had gone twelve miles,
breaking the road through the canyon, we were glad to find some pools
of water, and to rest for the night. Next day we came to the Little
Colorado River from forty to fifty miles above its mouth. The river
bottom was about half a mile wide, and the water very low. We continued
up the river to the Black Falls, where the stream passes over a ledge
of volcanic rock twelve or fourteen feet high. Four miles farther up
it ran through a very narrow gorge, and we had to pass over the hills
through deep sand, which our team found it very difficult to cross.

Fifteen miles farther on we came to Grand Falls, where the river runs
over shelving rocks for eighty to a hundred feet. Higher up the stream
the bottoms widened out, in some places to four miles, the timber was
better and the stream was larger. We killed two antelope and dried the
meat. Our forward journey continued to the old Beel trail, then on to
Sunset Crossing and the old Prescott road. Seven miles above was a mail
station, and there, at 9 o'clock on the night of Friday, December 17th,
the mail carriers met, and we learned some general news from them. Next
day we traveled fifteen miles farther, to where some Mexican herders
were camped with about four thousand sheep. The water in the river had
improved in quantity and quality, and the surroundings were such that
we felt we could recommend it as a place for settlement. We were also
impressed to return to Moancoppy, and started on that journey on the
19th. We changed our course and took more to the hill country, heading
for the San Francisco Mountains.

The return trip was very hard. We saw plenty of timber--the finest
forest growth I ever beheld. On December 24th, when crossing the divide
between the San Francisco Mountains and Mount Hendrick, we encountered
a terrific snowstorm, and had to camp for the night. Next day we
continued on our way, making slow progress in the deep snow. We passed
below the snow line on a very rough country, where sometimes, with
brake set, it took the four of us all we could do to keep the wagon
right side up. We were thankful to reach the river on the 28th and
Moancoppy on the 29th.

At a brief consultation that day, it was decided that I should return
to Salt Lake City and report to President Young the result of our
explorations. Next day the bandaging of my artificial leg gave way and
T. H. Haskell repaired it. On New Year's Day, 1876, J. C. Thompson, W.
H. Gibbons and I set out for Kanab, where we arrived on January 6th.

I requested Bishop Nuttall to forward me to Orderville, which he did.
From there Bishop H. O. Spencer took his team and conveyed me to
Panguitch. We met a heavy snowstorm on the road, the snow on the rim of
the Basin being up to the wagonbox. From Panguitch I was forwarded to
Monroe, where I telegraphed President Young that I would be in the city
by January 15th. I was advanced by team from there to the railroad,
where a pass sent by President Young was ready for me, and I arrived
in Salt Lake City and reported to him at 6 p.m. on the 14th. At the
railway station I was met by my children and the neighbors and two
vehicles. If I had been President Young's own son he could not have
received me more cordially than he did when I reached his office. After
our conversation I returned home, where my folks thought I should have
gone first; but they were overjoyed to see me, as I was to see them,
all in good health and well provided for. We were highly gratified to
realize that the Lord had heard and answered our prayers.



MY stay at home lasted till January 30, 1876. I attended several
meetings with the First Presidency, the Twelve Apostles, and other
leading brethren in the Church. They were consulting as to the best
means of colonizing that part of Arizona we had been exploring, and two
hundred missionaries were called to go there and settle the country.
Scores of visitors also came to my house to inquire regarding my
travels and the place where I had been. I went over to Apostle John
Taylor's house on invitation, and there George Goddard reported our
conversation, as I was requested to outline the route to Arizona, which
outline was afterwards published in the Deseret News. During my stay I
also made a brief visit to Ogden.

As the time drew near for me to start south again, President Young
loaned me a team and light wagon to travel with. He also advised me to
find a boy about sixteen years old to go with and wait on me. I was
thinking of how I should follow this counsel, when John Reidhead, who
was one of those called to the Arizona mission, came in and proffered
his son--an offer I was pleased to accept. On Friday, January 28,
Brother Reidhead and son started south with my team and baggage.

Early on the morning of Sunday, January 30, I took leave of my family,
and went by train to Spanish Fork, making an appointment at Springville
as I passed. I was met at the station at Spanish Fork, and conveyed to
the meetinghouse, where I addressed the congregation. That evening I
returned to Springville and filled the appointment there. Next morning
I was met by Brother Reidhead and son, and proceeded to Payson. I
had had raised for me, by subscription, a span of small mules, so I
sent back President Young's team and harness, and went on my journey,
preaching almost every evening in one or other town on the way. We were
treated very kindly. Our route lay through Fillmore, Beaver, Parowan,
Cedar City, Toquerville, and on to Kanab, which we reached February
23, finding Bishop Nuttall quite ill. We made our home at Bishop Levi

On March 2nd we set out from Kanab, and reached Moencoppy on the 8th,
where we found all well. The building constructed by the settlers was
so far completed as to protect us comfortably from storm and cold; and
a dam had been constructed, with a water ditch three miles long, giving
us quite a reservoir. Plowing also had been begun, though the weather
was very disagreeable.

On the 11th, J. C. Thompson and A. S. Gibbons went to meet Lot Smith
and a company coming from Utah. On Sunday, the 12th, we held meeting,
and a young man named Franklin D. Gillespie, who had fallen in with us,
desired to be baptized into the Church, as did Ly and his wife, two of
the Oriba Indians. The ordinance was attended to, and I also ordained
the chief, Tuba, a Priest.

During the next three days I arranged affairs of the company, some
of the men being directed to locate springs, to act as guides to the
companies coming, attend to our mail, etc., and on the 15th, with S.
B. Tanner, Ira Hatch, and J. B. Reidhead, set out with six mules and
a light wagon to search a road for vehicles between Moencoppy and the
Oriba village. Hans Funk and E. Tietjens, with a four-horse team, went
to the top of the hill to haul water for our animals, and from there
our party proceeded along the Indian trail three or four miles, then
struck out over the trackless, sandy plain, to avoid rugged buttes and
deep gulches that rendered the trail impracticable for wagons. We went
on about fourteen miles, and camped in the sand; I was quite ill.

Next day we traveled about twenty-five miles in a southeasterly
direction, over sandhills and up a long wash, to a divide, where we
made dry camp. We met four hunting parties, and two of the hunters
camped with us. The following morning we went on seven miles, to the
pools of water where the Oribas were camped with their flocks of sheep
and goats. Each flockmaster stood guard over his animals, for his turn
to get at the pools. We passed on three miles to the Oriba village,
located on the crest of a steep bluff. The houses were built close
together, and there were about five hundred inhabitants. Those Indians
obtained all their water from a well about a mile distant, and the
carrying of the precious liquid was going on day and night, while the
Indians were praying continually for more water.

Leaving the Oriba village, we proceeded onward over a rough and sandy
country, reaching the Mohave Springs, where the Hopees water their
stock, on the 18th. That night we experienced a fearful windstorm. On
the 20th we came to the Little Colorado River, and on the 23rd arrived
at the place selected on my first trip for a settlement. Between this
time and my previous visit five houses had been built there, so our
purpose was interfered with a little. Next day we chose a place for the
pioneer camp, and S. B. Tanner and I started back to meet the company
from Utah which was to occupy the locality as a settlement, and which
had been following us closely. We met the newcomers that day, and
returned to the site that had been chosen.

It was at this place that the first disagreement in the expedition
occurred. Captains Smith, Lake and Allen had charge of three sections
of the company. I invited them and others to a meeting to consult
over what should be done, and there presented to them my letter of
instructions from President Young and my appointment as president of
the mission. Captain Lot Smith opposed my presidency, and Captains Lake
and Allen failed to give me support. Things were not pleasant, and
the meeting was dismissed. Next day matters in camp were in a rather
confused condition.

The succeeding day was Sunday, March 26th. Lot Smith called a meeting,
and invited me to speak. I recounted what we had done in searching out
and selecting this place for settlement, and welcomed the company to
it; I also gave information and instruction concerning the country.
When I finished, Lot Smith assumed charge of the meeting, and paid no
further attention to me. Next day I invited him, and also Major Ladd,
to take a walk with me. They came, and I asked Brother Smith what he
intended doing. He replied that he was going ahead independent of me.
I told him he had insulted me and trampled upon my God-given right,
through President Young, who had appointed me to preside over the
Arizona mission, and if he would persist in doing wrong he must bear
the responsibility. He was very defiant, so we separated. I called
Brother G. Lake, who had informed me that Lot Smith seemed to think he
was in charge of the companies but he (Lake) knew it was my place and
would sustain me. I told him he had betrayed my confidence, for when it
came to the test he had failed to keep his word. I advised him to think
the matter over, and as I had decided to return at once to Moencoppy,
our party bade good-bye to the newcomers, and we started. This was on
March 27th.

On the 30th we reached the lower crossing of the river, and camped, the
stream being too much swollen to cross. S. B. Tanner shot a deer, and
by about five hours later he and the others brought in two more deer--a
valuable addition to our stock of provisions. By Saturday, April 1st,
the river had fallen, and other companies having come up, we crossed
and held a meeting. Next day another meeting was convened, and I called
David E. Fullmer to return with us, which he did. In a meeting held at
the old Arizona camp on April 4th, at which there was a large number of
those who had recently come from Utah, my letter of instructions from
President Young was read, and the brethren unanimously sustained me as
president of the mission. Our party continued the journey, and after
much toil reached Moencoppy settlement on April 7th. I was quite ill at
this time.

We continued the work necessary to establishing a settlement, but
there were so many difficulties that some of our company, which had
been increased by additions from Utah, began to feel discouraged. I
admonished and cheered them, causing them to feel better. We also
arranged for some of the company, in charge of S. B. Tanner, to go
up the Little Colorado River and secure twenty-three land claims for
us. This party started on Monday, April 17th. On the 22nd a Brother
Phillips came from Moencoppy and said a small company had reached there
without water, and that their teams were so exhausted that they could
not travel longer than about noon. We comprehended their suffering
condition, gathered all the barrels and kegs we had, and filled them
with water--about one hundred gallons--and Brothers Roson and Thompson
went to their relief. I then made out some notices to put up, giving
instructions so that other companies should not be caught in the same
predicament as this one had been.

From time to time our numbers were augmented by additions from Utah,
many having come in and located at the places we had selected. Among
those who joined us at Moencoppy was my son-in-law, H. O. Fullmer, and
my daughter, Rachel E. On the 17th of May the members of our settlement
proceeded up the river to where S. B. Tanner and party had taken up
land for us. There was some dissatisfaction in the company, but after
prayerfully considering the situation all was made right. Then, on May
19th, Brothers Tanner, Haskell and I started on an exploring trip. We
were gone till July 3rd, and traveled several hundred miles, going
north and east through the country of the Navajos, the Moquis and the
Zunis. We saw the villages of each, and also many ancient ruins. We
passed over some good country, but much of it was very rough, and our
trip was an arduous one.

While on this journey we were traveling along the Rio Perco, a
tributary of the Rio Grande del Norte, when, on June 17th, as we were
following a trail through a forest, an Indian stepped out from the edge
of the undergrowth, held up his hand, and said: "Stop! Who are you,
where do you come from, where are you going, and what is your business
in the Navajo country?"

"We are Mormons from Utah," was our response, in Spanish, the language
in which our interrogator had spoken.

"Stop your wagon under this tree," continued he, indicating a place,
"and talk to us; for we hear the Mormons have the history of our
forefathers. The Americans and Spaniards say you claim this, but we
know they often speak falsely, and we wish to learn from your own lips
whether you have such a record, and how you came by it. We want you to
stop here till our people come together, and you can tell us the truth."

By this time another Indian had presented himself. We turned aside as
ordered, and the first Navajo said to the newcomer: "Show these men
where water is."

Seth B. Tanner and Thales H. Haskell unhitched our team, and led
them to drink, the Indian going as guide. I was asked to get out of
the wagon, and as I was doing so a large number of Indians appeared,
coming from all directions. Almost before I realized it, there were
two hundred and fifty to three hundred Navajos there, men, women and
children. My chair was taken out of the wagon, a blanket was spread for
me, and I sat down, the Indians sitting close around. Two chiefs, whom
I learned were Juan San Juall and Jualito, sat as near to me as they
could, and one of them said, "If you have the book of our forefathers,
tell us about God and them, and how you came by the book."

I produced a copy of the Book of Mormon, told them it was a record of
God's dealings with their fore-fathers, and explained to them how it
was revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith by an angel. As I proceeded to
tell what was in the Book of Mormon, tears came to the eyes of many in
the audience, and some of them spoke out, "We know that what you say is
true, for the traditions of our good old men who never told a lie agree
with your story. Our forefathers did talk with God, and they wrote; and
when they became wicked and went to war they hid up their records, and
we know not where they are."

At this point the chiefs and about ten other leading men rose up and
embraced me, saying, "Continue to tell us of God and our forefathers,
for it does our hearts good to hear of them."

I talked on for a time, and when I was through, Messrs. Tanner and
Haskell, who had listened to what had been going on, bore witness that
what I had said was true. We remained with the Indians for dinner,
and they wanted us to stay longer, but we felt that it was better
to proceed on our journey. This meeting, one of the most sudden and
singular in my experience, occurred in New Mexico, about thirty miles
north of the old mail route from Albuquerque westward. When it was over
we continued our journey south and west, turned west to Fort Wingate,
then on to Fort Defiance, and through the Moquis villages to our

On the day of our return to Moencoppy, July 3rd, Brothers Roson and
Thompson came to meet us with barrels of water--a relief that we
appreciated greatly. We were highly pleased to learn that all was well
in the settlement.

Soon after this I released two of the missionaries till October 1st,
to visit their families in Utah, and five others till November 1st,
for the same purpose. During July and the early part of August we
were engaged in tending and gathering crops, and the work incident
to establishing a settlement, which was by no means easy. We also
visited and endeavored to keep on good terms with the Indians, and for
ourselves did so; but there were some of the Navajos who seemed bent
on making trouble, and who complained that the settlers on the Little
Colorado had taken some of their animals. Finally, on August 6th, we
received word from the Indian council that a delegation of chiefs
would meet with us in three days, to accompany some of us on a visit
to the "Mormon Chief," to settle the alleged grievances. Ira Hatch and
I set out that same evening to meet the delegation. I took very ill,
and it was only through the best care and with great effort that I
could travel, but we were determined not to disappoint the Indians. I
received marked attention from Ira Hatch, also from J. D. Lee and wife
at the Moenabbey, and in a few hours was able to move around again as
usual. We met the Indians, and made the journey north, reaching Salt
Lake City on the evening of August 22nd, the Indians being lodged at D.
B. Huntington's for the night.

Next day President Young met the delegation in his schoolhouse,
and talked over the supposed wrongs of the Mormon settlers to the
Navajos--for they were only supposed, as it turned out. I acted as
interpreter, using the Spanish language. Efforts had been made to find
some other interpreter who could talk the Navajo dialect, but in vain.
Everything was made satisfactory to the red men, who remained in Salt
Lake City four days. At this time a delegation of Shoshones from Bear
River came with George Hill as interpreter, and these met the Navajos
and the two tribes "buried the hatchet." Then the Navajos received a
few presents and returned to their homes.

I had a conversation with President Young, in which I told him I had
come from Arizona not to return unless he ordered me to do so. A few
days later he met me and said he had been thinking over my mission. He
intended to press onward in settling Arizona and New Mexico, and as
I knew what that country was, he thought I had better travel through
Utah and lecture on the prospects of the work in the southern mission,
and also call for volunteers to accompany me in returning to Arizona.
He told me further that I was to take up collections among the Saints
for the support of myself and family, and for an outfit for myself.
In pursuance of these instructions he gave me a letter to the Bishops
and other authorities. This document mentioned my missionary labors in
Arizona, said I was directed to lecture among the Saints on the mission
work and take up contributions, and counseled the authorities to render
me assistance in harmony with the call made of me. It closed as follows:

"Brother Brown is also authorized to receive the names of those who
are willing or desirous of helping to build up the Kingdom of God
in that region. We learn that the brethren are discovering new and
desirable valleys in the neighborhood of their present settlements, and
elsewhere, and it is our intention to keep pushing out and onward as
fast as prudence and the whisperings of the Spirit of the Lord shall

"We desire the active co-operation of our brethren in this important
work, and shall be pleased to receive a goodly list of volunteers
through Brother Brown, consisting of men who love the Gospel,
have faith in the promises of the Father, and have the integrity,
determination and zeal of true Latter-day Saints. We have no fear that
too many will respond to this invitation, as the rich valleys south and
east of the Colorado offer homes for hundreds of those who desire to
extend the curtains of Zion in that direction.

"We are informed that some of the brethren entertain the idea that it
is better to be called by the authorities to such missions than to
volunteer. To such we will quote the saying of the Lord to the Prophet
Joseph Smith, as contained in the Doctrine and Covenants: 'He that
waiteth to be commanded in all things is a slothful servant.'

"Ever praying for the welfare of Israel, I remain your brother in the


This letter was dated September 16, 1876.

Soon afterward I went as directed, traveling and lecturing in northern
Utah, with a visit to Almy, Wyoming; then worked my way southward in
the various counties, to Richfield. I lectured sixty-five times, and
secured about eighty volunteers, mostly from Sevier County. Ira Hatch
came up with me and at Richfield we separated, he taking my team and
going to Kanab, and I returning home to provide for my family and
then rejoin him at the town last named. I found several of my family
quite ill, and there had been one death--my Aunt Polly, who died on
Christmas day, a few days before my arrival home.

The opening of the year 1877 found me with my family, who soon began to
amend in health. I was also able to supply them fairly well with what
they needed for sustenance during my absence, as the Bishops and Saints
whom I had visited had been very kind and liberal, in response to the
invitation of President Young to promote the interests of the southern
mission by rendering assistance to me so I could proceed to that field
of labor.



MY stay at home was brief, and the 26th of January, 1877, found me
again at Kanab, ready to proceed southward. Three days later the start
was made, and on the morning of February 5th we reached Moencoppy.
The people there were in poor spirits, and considerably dissatisfied.
During my absence they had sowed about fourteen acres of fall grain and
had built eight log rooms. On my arrival, A. S. Gibbons made complaint
against S. B. Tanner, for they had had a disagreement. Tanner was found
to be in error, and made the matter right.

This trouble settled, the work of plowing and planting and setting out
trees, was proceeded with. Friendly Navajo and Oriba Indians visited
us, and as the United Order was being preached to the Church at that
time, I gave my views on the subject in an address at the Thursday
evening meeting, March 8th. Again on Sunday, the 11th, I preached to
the Saints, telling them plainly the wrong that was in their neglect
of duty and disaffection. My remarks had quite a salutary effect, and
matters moved more smoothly.

Shortly after midnight on the morning of March 23rd, the message was
brought that our reservoir had given way. We hurried out, but had to
wait till daylight before we could do effective work in repairing the
dam. In the meantime the Indians were greatly excited because the water
was injuring their crops, and we had to pacify the red men as best
we could, and make good the damage. Two days after this my daughter,
Mrs. Fullmer, became a mother, and I rendered her necessary care and

On March 31st we received mail with the news of the result of the
presidential election, when Hayes and Tilden were the candidates, also
of Amasa M. Lyman's death, and of John D. Lee being sentenced to be
shot. On April 4th we received tidings of Lee's execution.

Our time was well occupied now with the work around the settlement;
I also engaged in studying the Navajo language, preparatory to an
extended visit among those Indians. All went well till May 8th, when
I learned that the Piute Indians intended to steal our animals. Chief
Patnish was dead, and his people were angry. For the first time in the
history of the mission, we called out a guard, gathered our animals
and property, and provided against a raid on the part of the savages.
We were assisted by some friendly Navajos. At our inspection we
ascertained that we could fire eighty-five shots without stopping to
reload. On the 17th, two Piute Indians came in and informed us that a
council had been held to discuss the raid on us, but the vote was six
to five against molesting us, and the council broke up in a fight. The
five Indians who were in favor of attacking us started to seek the
assistance of the Ute Indians, while the others came to our side. A
week later we had a talk with some of the Piutes, and the threatened
trouble was averted.

A funeral occurred in the settlement on May 27th--that of Minty, the
little daughter of W. J. Johnston. I preached the funeral sermon. For
some time previous to and after this occasion my health was quite poor.
On June 1st we had another Indian scare, and made ready for attack, but
the alarm was without sufficient cause.

Before this time several of our company had endeavored to learn the
Navajo language, but met with little success; so I determined to
study the Indian language and customs myself, that I might be able to
talk freely with the red men. Accordingly, on June 4th, I went up the
Moencoppy Wash to Chief Hustelso's camp, about twenty-five miles. It
was arranged that I should be left there alone, except that Ira Hatch's
eight-year old girl was to stay with and wait on me. The Indian camp
was located two or three miles from where George A. Smith, Jr. was
killed some years before, probably by the same Indians.

H. O. Fullmer and Ira Hatch went with me, and eight Navajos assisted
in letting my wagon down into the Wash, where I was left. The bed
of the stream was perhaps three thousand feet below the plain above
on the north side, while the cliffs on the south towered up almost
perpendicularly about five thousand feet. The Indian camp was in the
deep recess, the descent into which was both difficult and dangerous. A
wagon could not be drawn down or up by team, but for a thousand feet or
so had to be lowered from one cliff to another with ropes. In one place
the Indians had cut eighteen steps, to enable them to get their animals
up and down; and then occasionally a horse would go over and be killed.

In this place the first night gave me a decidedly lonesome feeling.
Chief Hustelso was friendly, but not so his people, except a few
old men. The young men were very surly, and would not talk. Some of
them were shooting arrows, and I tried to be friendly and proposed
to shoot with them, but three of the young braves drew their bows on
me, as if intending to kill me. I made no headway that night, and I
realized the gloominess that had prevented my companions remaining
there and learning to speak the Navajo tongue. The next day or two I
was threatened and illtreated, the burrs taken off my wagon, and I was
subjected to other annoyances. The little girl with me did fairly well,
for, being a half-breed Indian herself, she affiliated with the Indian
children without difficulty.

Then the Indians became less offensive in their conduct day by day,
and I learned rapidly to converse with them, and began to experience
kindness at their hands. Several strange Indians came from a
considerable distance to see me, and on June 12th, about three hundred
and fifty Navajos gathered around to hear me tell them of the Book of
Mormon, its discovery and contents. Book in hand I related to them
the story of the volume being the history of their forefathers. Some
laughed at me and others asked most searching questions, which I was
able to answer satisfactorily in their own dialect.

Then came the inquiry, "If it is our book, how did you get it? Did you
steal it?" I was getting pretty well puzzled, owing to my imperfect
acquaintance with the Navajo language. I told them that the book was
obtained in the east, about so many days' journey off. But I could not
explain to them that it was in a stone box in the Hill Cumorah, and
that the writings were on gold plates, for I did not know what terms to
use to convey my meaning. One Indian told me the book could not have
lasted so long as I said, because paper would decay, he knew that.
In order to learn what hill was, I made a small hill of sand, and by
comparison with the mountains and much explanation I learned the word
for hill.

I had noticed, almost up to the plateau above, some slate rock; and
after great difficulty I managed to climb and get several pieces
of slate down, being aided by the little girl. Then I improvised a
stone box, set it in the sand hill, placed the book therein, and thus
ascertained how to say stone box, in Navajo, and explained that the
record was deposited therein. I was almost beaten to tell of gold
plates, for I did not know the words to use. At last I bethought me of
a brass suspender buckle, and pointed out that what I was referring to
was like that, but was not that; and a little piece was worth several
silver dollars. Then one Indian recognized what I wanted to say, and
gave me the word for gold, on the coins of which he had seen small
letters. I was thus able to explain that the record was on plates
of gold; but the way I learned to do it was one of the marvelous
experiences of my life, and illustrates the difficulties I had to meet
in learning the Navajo language.

When I reached the point of telling how the Book of Mormon plates were
preserved and obtained, my audience was quite in touch with me, and
they rejoiced and wept while I told them further of its contents. From
that time no friendship was too great for me, and before my departure
I spent a day, by invitation, viewing Indian sports. By June 20, I was
through at Hustelso's camp and ready for a journey of exploration which
had been planned.

On June 21st our exploring party, consisting of six persons, including
my son-in-law and his wife and child, started on a trip, the general
direction of travel being a little south of east. Our journey led us
through some good country, and some that was very rough. We went a
short distance into New Mexico, and obtained considerable knowledge
of the country and its inhabitants, there being many Indian villages,
houses and farms on the route we traveled. As we were crossing over a
broad mesa, on June 27, after passing the Fort Defiance road, we met
with a strange person among the people. This was a fullblood Indian
girl seven or eight years of age, with white hair, blue eyes, and skin
as fair as the fairest white person.

Next day we reached the camp of Pal Chil Clane, a Navajo chief at
whose place a council had been appointed. From there a messenger was
dispatched to Totoso-ne--Huste, the head chief of the Navajo nation. On
the evening of the following day that chief arrived in the camp.

A consultation was held on June 29th with the chieftain, at which we
informed him of our desire to settle the country, to teach the Indians
the Gospel, and to aid in improving their general condition; we also
told of the Book of Mormon, a record of the Indians' forefathers, which
had been made known. The chief responded that it was a departure from
his usual rule to come and see the white men. Before this, they always
had come to him, or he had sent good men to meet the government agents
and others. This also had been his custom with the Mormons up to that
occasion. Among other things he said:

"When I heard that you had come, I quit work and came to see you. My
heart is glad at the meeting with you, and that I see your wagon there,
and the brush shade that your men have built. Stop here four days, and
many of our best men will come and talk to you, for a great many of
our people want to go and see the Mormons. We shall have a big talk
and know what to do. We are glad that you come among us as friends,
that you are making a road through our country, and that you have built
houses at Moencoppy. We want to live with you in peace and let your
animals eat grass in peace. But water is scarce in this country, there
is barely enough for our numerous flocks and increasing people, and our
good old men do not want your people to build any more houses by the
springs; nor do we want you to bring flocks to eat the grass about the
springs. We want to live by you as friends. I sent some good men with
you last year, and they say you talked one talk all the time. The great
Mormon father he talked straight all the time. I think that a good road
to travel in. I have had two daughters prisoners among the Apaches
for many years but have never left my home to search for them, for I
love my home and my people, and I do not love to travel. I have sent
good and true men to search for my children, and have appealed to the
American captains in different places, yet my daughters have not been
brought back. I am an old man now, and it is hard for me to travel long
roads, but I wish to see the Mormons and my father their captain. I am
inclined to go with you. I want twenty-five or thirty men to go with
me, and one or two women, to see your women and learn how they do. I am
much pleased to see you and your daughter and her baby. I want to see
more of your people. The Americans and your people differ in religion.
The Mormons say their captain talks with God (Pagocheda), and Americans
say God does not talk to men. We do not know what to believe. When God
talks to us, then we shall know. Until then we want to live as friends."

After our talk we separated, he promising to return in three days.
He came, and I accompanied him to a Navajo religious feast, where I
was introduced to thirteen chiefs and over two hundred other Navajo
Indians. This was on July 2nd. It was decided that some of them would
go to see the Mormons, and be at Moencoppy in thirty-eight days. Then
we bade the Indians good-by, and proceeded on our journey, going over
into New Mexico, and back to Moencoppy, where we arrived on July 15th.
There were quite a number of Navajos, Piutes and Hopees there, and I
had to talk with them and three Mexicans till quite late.

A week later, on July 22nd, I declined to administer the sacrament,
owing to the feeling of dissatisfaction among the people. A. S. Gibbons
and M. P. Mortensen circulated reports against me, that I had used
provisions contributed to the mission, and I had a full investigation
made; this showed that the accusation was entirely wrong. Other
meetings were held subsequently, and the ill feeling that had arisen
was dispensed with. The mission affairs then proceeded smoothly again.

It was on the morning of August 8th that the Navajo Indian delegation
began to assemble for the journey north, Totoso-ne-Huste among the
number, and by the 10th all were ready for the start. The journey was a
hard one much of the way, but when we got among the settlements in Utah
we were well treated, and the Indians highly pleased. We reached Salt
Lake City August 28, 1877.

The next day I visited President Young. He was very ill, and I merely
called to see him. The great pioneer and prophet who had done so
much for the opening up and settlement of the Great West was on his
deathbed. The magnificent work of his life was over. In half an hour
after I left his room, the noble spirit passed from his body, and he
slept in death, awaiting the resurrection morn.

On the evening of August 29, the _Deseret News_ published the following
regarding the Navajo delegation and myself:

"Indian Delegation.--Last evening Elder James S. Brown arrived from the
south with a delegation of Navajo Indians, one of whom is a woman, the
first female Navajo, we believe, that has ever visited this part of
the country. Garanu Namunche, or Totoso-ne-Huste, the former being his
Spanish and the latter his Indian name, is at the head of the party. He
is, in fact, the head chief of the Navajo nation. He is accompanied by
two other leading men, Honeco, brother of the former, and Esclepelehen,
son of the same. In June last Elder Brown and a party of brethren
visited the northeastern part of Arizona and the north-western portion
of New Mexico, and found a strong spirit of inquiry among the Navajos
relative to the Mormon people, their methods of farming, manufacturing,
and in relation to their institutions generally. These inquiries were
incited by the report of the Navajo delegation which visited this city
a year ago, and these composing the one now here have come to see,
hear and examine for themselves, that they may be witnesses of the
same things. Brother Brown and party held a council with the Indians
at the camp of Pal Chil Clane, about two hundred men of the tribe
being present on the occasion, including Totoso-ne-Huste, the leading
chief already mentioned. It was then that the latter proposed to pay
the present visit. Manlete, or Pahada Pahadane, is the war chief of
the nation, but in the estimation of the tribe is second in rank to
Totoso-ne-Huste, although the whites, or "Americans," recognize the war
chief as the head. The delegation are stopping at the house of Brother
Brown, and have been visiting the leading places of interest in the
city today. Elder Brown purposes taking them north to Bear River on

On August 30th, the Indians and I met Daniel H. Wells, who had been
counselor to President Young in the First Presidency. At that interview
President Wells told me I had performed a great and good work, and
to ask me to return to Arizona was too much to require of me. I was
therefore honorably released from that mission. Subsequently I received
a formal release from President John Taylor, who succeeded to the
presidency of the Church.

After the funeral of President Young, which was held on September 2nd,
I accompanied the Indians as far south as Gunnison, Sanpete County,
on their way home. There I bade them goodbye, and returned northward,
to resume my missionary labors, traveling and lecturing among the
settlements in Utah, southern Idaho, and western Wyoming. I also
purchased a tract of eighty acres of land on the Redwood Road, in the
western part of Salt Lake City, and worked on that in the spring and
summer, traveling and preaching in the autumn and winter as President
Young had directed me to do.

Thus my time was occupied till the spring of 1892 with the exception
of the months of March, April and May, 1888. With a firm conviction
that plurality of wives was a law of God. I had entered into that
relationship honorably with a sincere purpose to follow the right. My
family were united with me in accepting this union as of the highest,
holiest, most sacred character in the sight of the Most High. I
could not feel to cast aside my wives whom I had married under these
conditions, and therefore, on March 12, 1888, I was sentenced to prison
on a charge of unlawful cohabitation, the legal term applied to living
with more than one wife, the law being specially directed at one of the
religious practices of the Latter-day Saints. The judgment pronounced
against me was three months' imprisonment in the penitentiary and to
pay a fine of one hundred dollars and costs, which amounted in my case
to twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents. I paid the fine and served the
term, less the time allowed for good behavior, and was released May 28,
1888, having been in prison two months and sixteen days.

As was the case with other Mormons in my position, our offense was not
looked upon even by non-Mormons acquainted with the circumstances as
containing the element of crime; but our incarceration was in fact an
imprisonment for conscience sake, that being the position in which the
law found us. A term in the penitentiary under those conditions and at
that time, while a severe hardship, especially upon one in my state of
health, was by no means a moral disgrace, since those who had to endure
it were of the better class of men, whose uprightness, honor, integrity
and sincerity were beyond question in the community where their lives
were an open book.



ON March 30, 1892, President Joseph F. Smith called at my residence
in Salt Lake City, and handed me a letter written by an Elder who was
on the island of Tahiti. At the same time President Smith asked me
how I would like to take another mission to the Society Islands, in
the South Pacific Ocean. I told him I did not wish any man to call me
on a mission--that my health was not good, and such a journey as he
suggested was a big undertaking for one in my condition. He replied
that he would leave the letter for me to read, and would call the next
day to learn what I thought of it. He came according to appointment,
and informed me that the First Presidency wanted me to undertake the
mission. I replied that when properly called I was not afraid to go, as
I had faith that God would not require of any man more than he would
have the ability to do if he were faithful. The day following this
conversation I visited the First Presidency and learned that they were
a unit in requesting me to go to the Society Islands.

From this time I began to settle my affairs to meet the call. On April
8th, I was set apart for the mission, Elder Francis M. Lyman being
mouth in the blessing. On the 15th, I went to Ogden on business, and
while on the train met Apostle Lorenzo Snow, who told me he felt the
spirit of prophecy. He said that the mission I was going on should
be one of the greatest I had ever performed; that I would prosper
therein and be blessed with more power and influence than ever before;
that the Lord would be with me to sustain and comfort me, and that my
family should be provided for. As he spoke I felt a thrill of testimony
through my whole being. When he concluded he took from his pocket
two five-dollar gold pieces, remarking that he had been a missionary
himself, and insisted that I should take the money, keep it till I got
in a close place, and then use it, which I did.

On April 22nd I received at President Woodruff's office a letter of
appointment to preside over the Society Islands Mission, which included
the Society and Tuamotu groups, comprising from eighty to one hundred
islands and an area of about fifteen hundred square miles. About this
time I had many visitors, a considerable number of whom expressed
surprise at my being appointed to such a mission at my time of life
and in my condition; for I was sixty-four years of age and walked
on crutches and one foot, as I had to abandon my artificial limb in
Arizona, owing to the intense pain it caused me. One man said that
he would not go in my situation for ten thousand dollars. But these
discouraging remarks did not raise a doubt in my mind of the propriety
of the call.

On the 24th of April I was engaged in writing, when my children
and grandchildren to the number of sixty-five burst in upon me in
a surprise party. We had a happy time and I gave them a father's
blessing. Then we repaired to the Seventeenth Ward meeting house, where
members of the ward had assembled, and I preached a farewell sermon and
took an affectionate leave of the people.

I sold some of my real estate to pay the expenses of my journey, and
for my family; also received contributions in money from a number of
friends; and on April 26th I started on my mission, accompanied by my
son Elando. We stayed over night at Ogden, then continued on to San
Francisco, arriving there April 28th. On April 30th we boarded the
barkentine _City of Papeete_, which sailed the next day.

The sea voyage occupied the entire month of May, Tahiti coming into
view on the evening of the 31st. Our fare, cabin, was seventy-five
dollars each. The first few days out we had headwinds, and there was
a goodly share of seasickness. On the 10th a native of Tahiti, named
Manhele, commonly known as John Bull, became violently insane, and
had to be restrained. On the 12th he freed himself and crawled out on
the jib boom, from which he was about to plunge into the sea, when he
was secured. It took five men to handle him. At five o'clock on the
morning of the 15th it was discovered that the madman had made a fire
by rubbing two sticks together. Fortunately he was detected in time to
prevent the ship being set aflame. A few days after this occurrence his
condition improved and continued so to the end of the voyage.

It was at the Marquesas Islands on May 26th, when we sailed into port,
that I went ashore with the rest of the passengers, and met a native
of Rapia, a very uninviting person in appearance. The people warned us
to beware of him as he was a savage and had killed five men. He told
me he had seen me forty years before on his native island, and related
circumstances of the event that convinced me his statement was true.

[Image: Marquesas Fire Dancers]

The next man I spoke to ashore was John H. Rumrell of Boston,
Massachusetts, who was taken prisoner by natives on the Marquesas
Islands in 1847, and in the following year was tattooed from the tip
of his nose to just above his eyebrows, and back to his ear on the
left side of his face; on the right side the tattooing went from the
lower part of the nose back to the ear; while above the eyebrow, and
reaching to the ear, was another strip. The ink was pricked in with
human bone. He said that it was because of this tattooing that he
would not return to his people. In his experience he had been without
clothing for years. He had two sons and one daughter, and lived like
the natives in every respect. He related how that on one occasion the
natives had killed a white man and cooked and ate him, and at the same
time they had killed a colored man, who was eaten raw, before the
flesh was cold. Mr. Rumrell said he seldom heard from his relatives
in Boston. He seemed almost oblivious to everything except what was
immediately before him; he took as little interest in civilization as
did the natives, and I have not found a lower class of people in the
South Pacific than on the five of eleven Marquesas islands which were
inhabited at the time of this visit.

The captain of our vessel informed me that the inhabitants of the group
numbered about four thousand eight hundred souls, and that there were
ten deaths among the natives to one birth, the chief cause of this
mortality being the opium habit. The French governor was trying to
prohibit the use of the drug, but so far had not been successful.

On the voyage down to the Marquesas we saw many flying fish, whales and
other varieties of the finny tribe. On May 12th the sailors caught two
sharks, and after cutting them up threw them overboard. We left the
port of Taihai, in the Marquesas, on May 28th, and on the 31st sighted
Tahiti, entering the harbor of Papeete on June 1st, after considerable

I remained on board till the afternoon. Mr. Dorence Atwater, formerly
United States consul there, came on the vessel, and recognizing me told
me he had an empty room that I was welcome to occupy with my friends
until I could do better. I felt that this courtesy had been offered as
an answer to my prayers to the Lord. I accepted the invitation and we
went to the house he had been speaking of, from where we returned to
the wharf, and he bade me good evening.

While resting myself a moment near a group of natives I spoke to them,
when one came forward and asked why I was there. I replied that I had
come to preach the Gospel. At this he called four of his companions and
introduced them as Mormon missionaries of the Reorganized Church of
Latter-day Saints, or followers of young Joseph Smith, the Prophet's
son. I told them I did not belong to their organization, but to the
true Church of Saints, the same as when I was on the islands before.
They seemed surprised and confused, and after a pause inquired if I
knew the Josephite missionaries that came from America. I answered
that all the true Mormon missionaries came from Salt Lake City and
vicinity. Then I asked if they knew where I could get a bed, and after
consultation one of them said I could go with him. My baggage, however,
was not through the custom house, and the captain suggested that I had
better stay on board, so I went back to the vessel.

That evening Elders Joseph W. Damron and Wm. A. Seegmiller,
missionaries from Utah, came on board and asked if there were any
Latter-day Saints there. I introduced myself, then my son Elando, and
Elder Thomas Jones. Elder Damron insisted that we go on shore with him
for the night, which we did, and my son and I were comfortably located
at the home of Tiniarau, where we remained some time. The other Elders
went to a house about three miles distant, but next day moved to Mr.
Atwater's place. For some days I was very tired and in poor health, and
remained at the house talking to people who called.



OUR first Sabbath in Tahiti (June 5, 1892,) we attended the Josephite
meeting. The service was very brief, and the people seemed worried.
Next day several of the Josephites called on me, and after a lengthy
conversation told me they knew I spoke the truth to them. I was also
visited by a number of friends who were young when I was on the islands
before, but who remembered me. One who came from Anaa said he was
present when I first landed on that island, and he knew of my labors
and my having been arrested by the French. He remembered me by my
voice, and said the people who heard me then would know me in the same
way, if they did not by seeing me. Many natives came and said they were
glad to see and hear me, though they had been born since I left the

A Mr. Henry, a son of a former minister of the Church of England,
called, and I loaned him a Voice of Warning. He invited me to spend the
evening with himself and wife, but I had an appointment. I went next
evening, however, and passed a very enjoyable time, as I did on several
occasions afterwards. During that week I was visited by very many
people. Mr. Atwater gave us the privilege of holding public meetings
in his house, but we understood it was necessary to get the permission
of the director and secretary of the interior for the province, so
Mr. Atwater and I called. That official said we were to submit the
application to the governor, and he would notify Mr. Atwater of the
reply. On Saturday evening I talked on the market grounds to a large
number of people, several of whom recognized me as having been on the
island forty years before. That evening, at the wharf, I also met with
an aged man from Anaa, who had known me on my former mission, and who
said that if I would go there the people would follow my teachings.

On Sunday, the 12th, who should come to see me but Mrs. Layton, a
native, the widow of my old friend John Layton. I had seen her in San
Francisco. My own sister could not have been more pleased to see me,
and I was very glad to meet her. She gave me the best history of my
former friends on the islands that I was able to obtain. Next morning
I took a short stroll, then returned to the house. The other Elders
distributed tracts among the English-speaking residents of Papeete,
and I received another call from Mrs. Layton, who brought her little
granddaughters and also a man--the son of an old friend of mine--who
said that on my former visit to the island I had named him Iatobo,
after my own Tahitian name.

It was while taking breakfast, on the 14th, with a Mr. Mervin, some of
whose children had been blessed in the Church, that an old lady who
came up, recognized me, and shook hands so persistently that it seemed
as if she did not intend to let go, and did not do so for some minutes.
She had seen the French officers take me away from Anaa. The old lady
had known me on sight, though forty years had passed. The same day I
met an aged man who also recognized me from having known me before.
That same evening I was given the privilege of addressing the Josephite
meeting and told them how and by whom the Gospel had been brought to
them, and which was the true Church. I tendered my services to preach
in their meeting house, but my offer was not accepted.

On the 16th I started with Elder Seegmiller to visit the old prison
where I had been incarcerated by the French, but the distance being
too great I had to give up the journey. Next day we received from the
governor a reply to our application for permission to hold public
meetings. Our request was denied, the reason assigned being that we
believed in polygamy. We had no disposition to let the matter rest
there, so we called on the United States consul for advice. He told us
to make application in writing for permission to preach, and if refused
to submit it to him. This we did on the 20th, and next day received an
unfavorable answer. The governor asked what we taught, and we told him.
We stated that we did not teach polygamy. The reason he then gave for
refusing us the permission desired was that there were enough religions
there and he did not want another established. Mr. Atwater suggested
that we consult with Mr. Bonett, formerly director and secretary of the
interior, and an able lawyer. We did so, and he informed us that it was
not necessary to get permission to preach, but that we must notify the
mayor or justice of the peace of the time and place of our meetings.

To return a few days: On Sunday, the 19th of June, we attended a
Josephite meeting, where all were friendly but the presiding officer;
yet after meeting he told us to come and eat, sent a half-caste to wait
on us, and otherwise was quite attentive. After dinner we talked to
the audience, who appeared well pleased. They said B. F. Grouard had
set native songs to American tunes, and that he had also sent letters
endorsing the Josephite church; he had been one of the first to preach
the true Gospel to their fathers, as I had been, and they were confused
at my coming, for they could not refute what I had said. I was under
the necessity of telling them how that Grouard had turned into the
wrong path--an action which they admitted was quite possible. After
our talk this day we felt that we had done our full duty towards those
Josephites in explaining to them the true condition of affairs.

On the afternoon of the 20th my old friend Mahana Toro called, but did
not seem so friendly as in former times. He was about seventy years of
age, and very much broken in health. He also had joined the Josephites
under the misapprehension that they were of the same Church as I was. I
told him the difference, that the Josephite organization was distinct,
and was not the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which
never had been disorganized. He then seemed to feel more kindly towards
me, and visited me on subsequent occasions, bringing gifts of oranges.

My health was very poor, and at times I was quite ill. I was able
most of the time, however, to get around, and to preach to the
people, either those who called on me, or those I had the privilege
of visiting. My missionary companions were also energetic in their
labors. Occasionally we had the opportunity to extend our acquaintance
into prominent circles of society. For instance, on June 27th, we
attended a select party in honor of the French admiral. There was a
grand illumination. I also visited captains of vessels engaged in
traffic between the islands, and had pleasant chats with them on
the principles of the Gospel. I did not fail to talk to the natives
whenever occasion offered, and this was frequent. On July 2nd, in the
market square, a large crowd gathered around me as I preached, and
most of them acknowledged the truth of the principles I taught. Then,
lest the police stop me for raising an excitement, I changed to asking
questions, as in conversation, so no offense could be taken by the

I learned an interesting bit of missionary history on July 3rd. This
day, I met Mr. J. S. Henry, who said his father was one of the first
Christian missionaries on the islands, having come to Tahiti in 1797.
They had a very hard time of it. For years their clothing was made of
the bark of the bread-fruit tree, and they had gone barefooted for a
long time, their shoes and clothing having worn out. They had been five
years without receiving any supply from their society. My informant
was born on the island. I loaned him a copy of the _Deseret News_, which
contained sermons by President Wilford Woodruff and by Elder C. W.
Penrose, who was editor of the paper at that time.

Monday, July 4, 1892, was the sixty-fourth anniversary of my birth, and
I was spending it in far off Tahiti. I had but few callers that day,
and consequently but few congratulations. I continued my efforts to
make myself more proficient in the Tahitian language, and from day to
day proceeded with the duties that rested on me. July 12th an aged man
Tematu called on me, saying that he was from the island of Anaa, and
had been my servant on the occasion of my former visit. He told me of
the four members of the Church that were hanged by the French; for in
the trouble then they had killed a policeman and had wounded severely a
Catholic priest. The names of the executed men were Tefaitina, Reifara,
Maru, Mafeuta and Temutu.

Among the very aged people I met was one who called on me on July 18,
Timou, aged one hundred and three years. I also met, at a blacksmith
shop, on July 21st, a native of Pitcairn's island, William Christenson.
He was a descendant of one of the mutineers of the British ship _Bounty_.
He told the story as follows: The _Bounty_ sailed from England in the
year 1689, the company intending to collect plants from the South
Sea Islands. They called at Tahiti, and made their collection, then
got some natives and their wives and some other women on board, and
put out to sea. Fletcher Christenson, first mate, and some of the
crew mutinied, getting control of the vessel. They put the captain,
whose name was Blythe, and those who wished to go with him, into the
best boat, supplied them with such articles as they desired which
were at hand, and set them adrift. This party subsequently reached
England, while the first mate and crew ran the ship into a small bay at
Pitcairn's Island, where they wrecked the vessel, taking the supplies
on shore. All went well for a time, till the native men became jealous
of the white men and killed most of them. Afterwards, at the instance
of the remaining white men, the women killed the native men who had
escaped in the former trouble, so there were left but two of the white
men and the women. These, and after them, their descendants, lived on
the island, which was but a few miles in circumference. The population
increased to about four hundred souls, when the British government
moved them to Norfolk Island. Some of them returned to Pitcairn's, and
at that time (1892) there were one hundred and thirty-six souls on the
island, every one belonging to the Seventh Day Adventists, and all
speaking the English language. Mr. Christenson said that the only names
of the mutinous crew he remembered besides those of the captain and his
own progenitor, were John Adams, ---- McKay, John Mills, Isaac Brown and
---- Yindle. Christenson's story does not harmonize precisely with the
generally accepted history of the affair, but I have given it as he
related it.

For a considerable time we had endeavored to get passage for some
of the Elders to the island of Tuamotu, but were unsuccessful, so
we divided Papeete into missionary districts, Elder Damron and my
son Elando taking the east side, and Elders Seegmiller and Jones the
western district. During the latter part of July and the greater
portion of August, I was quite ill, and was troubled greatly with
neuralgia. On August 14th, we applied to the Josephites for permission
to speak in their house, but it was refused, resulting in quite a
discussion among the members of the Josephite congregation, some of
whom were quite friendly to us. On the 23rd my son Elando and I left
Papeete, by invitation, for Tautila, going in a boat in which there
were four other men and a woman, the latter being a sister of the owner
of the craft. When we got off Haapape the wind became so high that the
men were obliged to row for the shore, and we found refuge in the home
of Terumana, a native, who fed us on native food and gave each of us a
good bed.

We had to remain there till 11 p.m. on the 25th, when we started to sea
again, the night being pitch dark. The woman made me as comfortable
as was possible in the small boat, and all went well for a time with
the exception of seasickness. Then it came on to rain very hard, and
we were all wet. Early in the morning we ran into shore, and the men
in charge of the boat asked us to pray, which I did. We then proceeded
on our way with a cocoanut each for breakfast, and at half-past eight
p.m., on the 26th, reached the mouth of a river on Tautila.

Our host was Mr. Hiotina, and his wife's name was Teumere. She was
an invalid, her frame almost a skeleton, but she was a very bright
woman intellectually. Her memorizing of Scripture passages was truly a
marvel. The next day after our arrival was Saturday, and many people
came out of curiosity to see us. On Sunday, the 28th, about sixty
people assembled, and our host requested us to hold religious services,
which we did. While I was preaching on faith, repentance, and baptism,
taking my text from the third chapter of Matthew, an old lady went
over to my son, who was near the door, and requested baptism. This was
the first application of the kind made to us on the island. The lady
had been a member of the Church, but had become negligent. At 5 p.m.
that day she was baptized by Elder Elando Brown, and I confirmed her
a member of the Church, there being many people present, among them a
Protestant minister.

We stayed on Tautila until September 9th, visiting among the people and
preaching and talking to them, as opportunity afforded, though we could
not get a house to preach in. On the 9th we returned to Papeete, the
voyage being very rough and trying. I could hardly stand on my crutches
when we landed, at 10 p.m.

On the 11th we arranged for four of us to go to Tubuoi, but the
governor informed the captain that he could take but two white
passengers, so on August 15th Elder Seegmiller and I left on a vessel
bound for the island named. The voyage lasted till the 20th and was
decidedly uncomfortable. We did not have sufficient food, there was no
bedding, and the water on board was filthy. Worn and exhausted, we were
glad to get ashore at Tapuai, where we were coldly greeted. We secured
a comfortable lodging room, so far as appearances were concerned, and
plenty of fleas for bed-fellows. Our room-mate was a young man named
Alexander Drolett, interpreter for the French captain of a government
schooner that was lying in the harbor. There we met Tapuni, a native
Josephite preacher who had been on the island about five months. He
tried to be sociable, but was ill at ease, apparently being discomfited
by our arrival. We found the people generally very distant, as if they
did not wish us there. Mr. Drolett, however, was kind and sociable, and
we had the privilege of explaining to him the nature of our calling on
the islands.

September 22, 1892, was the one hundredth anniversary of the first
French republic, and a feast and holiday had been proclaimed. Flags
were hoisted, and the people gathered to the feast. We were among those
invited, and were seated at the table with the captain of the French
schooner and his interpreter, and the governor and his wife, also
Tapuni. About ninety persons were at the feast. Dinner was served in
French and native styles blended. This was followed by singing, and by
dancing and contortions of the old heathen fashion, until I was worn

The following day the French schooner left, and Elder Seegmiller and
I sent a letter to our brethren at Papeete. As we were in the house
a policeman called and gazed at us for a time, then left without
speaking. Next came the native governor, Tahuhuetoma, who entered
without noticing me, but I slapped him on the shoulder and asked him
if he had eyes, whereat he spoke, but had little to say. Then came a
native, Tehaheatihi, from the village of Mahu, on the south side of the
island. He was very friendly, and said he had joined the Josephites
but had discovered his mistake. I was quite ill, so could not accept
his invitation to accompany him to Mahu, except on the condition that
he furnish a conveyance, which he promised to try to do. Our landlord,
however, told us not to trouble, but to remain till Sunday, when we
would all go to Mahu, and could speak to the people there. He said
Tapuni was not pleased, but that made little difference.

Next day was Saturday, the 24th--the occasion of greater kindness to
us from the natives than previously; for two children aged ten and
twelve years brought us some food, as did also the governor's wife. On
Sunday further friendship was displayed, and the people came to ask
us questions; but we were unable to go to Mahu, and were refused the
privilege of speaking at the religious services in the place where
we were. On Monday, however, we went to Mahu, where we met twelve to
fifteen men, with whom we had a pleasant visit, talking to them quite

During that week we met a number of people who exhibited a kindly
feeling towards us in conversation. Some applied for baptism, but
I advised them to wait. By the end of the week the clouds over the
mission began to break. When Sunday came there was a religious feast,
but we were not allowed to take part, so, with about five natives, held
services of singing, prayer and conversation. Again in the afternoon
we had a meeting at which about thirty persons were present, and I
explained how the authority had continued in the Church from the
Prophet Joseph to the present organization. At that meeting Elder
Seegmiller spoke publicly in the native tongue for the first time.
There were several applications for baptism, and on the following
Tuesday, October 4th, Elder Seegmiller baptized twenty-four persons,
whom I confirmed members of the Church. Thus the missionary work on the
island was opened up again, with a fair start for prosperity.



IT was on October 6, 1892, that the first case of miraculous healing
after our arrival occurred. We were becoming recipients of greater
kindness from the natives, and that day Roai, the oldest man on
the island, was brought to us, shaking violently with a chill. He
appeared to be dying. Some cocoanut oil was brought--no other was
obtainable--and we blessed it and anointed and blessed him, when the
chill immediately left him. He rested well, and next morning was in his
usual good health.

On the 7th there was quite an argument among the people as to whether
the Josephites or the Mormons should have the meeting house. The
decision was in our favor, and we were also offered a house in the
village of Taahuaia. The Josephite preacher, Tapuni, wanted to hold
joint meetings with us, as we both followed the same form of baptism;
but we refused, as we could not make any alliance with him. We
represented the true Church of Jesus Christ, while his organization was
by persons who had been excommunicated, and had not divine authority.

When Sunday came we held three meetings, blessed fourteen children, and
took dinner with the policeman. Next day, the 10th, we ordained Ote an
Elder, and added nine persons to the Church by baptism. On the 11th we
met a man--the fourth on the island--who was on the island of Raivavai
when the natives had built a fire to burn me, and when I was delivered
by the power of God. They claimed to have been present when I was
sentenced, but denied taking any part in the proceedings.

Friday, October 14th, we bade the Saints of Mahu farewell (having, the
day previous, ordained two Elders, two Priests, one Teacher and one
Deacon) and went to Taahuaia, where the people were quite indifferent
to us. From time to time, however, we were able to converse with some
of them, and baptized several. On the 23rd, the governor gave us
permission to hold meetings, and we began doing so. I visited the grave
of Elder John Layton on the 24th, and on the 25th arranged to leave on
a schooner for Tahiti. My health had been quite poor for some time. I
did not go on the boat, however, for it was so heavily laden that there
was no room, so it sailed on the 27th without me. Monday, October 31st,
I preached the funeral sermon of a little girl.

On the 5th of November, the Josephite preacher and his wife called
on me. In the evening a special meeting of the people was held, the
purpose of which was kept secret from us. That night I dreamed I was
on trial and the judge said he knew I was not guilty, but because of
the demand of the people he would have to give judgment against me and
assess a fine of twenty dollars, which the court would pay. I awoke and
told Elder Seegmiller the natives had made a decision against us, as we
learned the next day, when the governor withdrew from us the privilege
of holding meetings.

We went to Mataura on November 7th, to see a man possessed of a devil.
The evil spirit was dumb, and for three years the man had not spoken
to anyone, but sat or laid around. We also visited the school where
there were about thirty students, and the teacher called one pupil to
the blackboard, where the exercise in writing required of her was well
done. Then we called on Tetuatehiapa, the oldest woman on the island.
She was one hundred and twenty years of age, and had been blind for
eight years. The people said she had insisted that she would live till
the servants of God came from Salt Lake City. When told who we were she
rejoiced greatly, and exclaimed, "I always said you would come again!
The Lord has brought you, and has prolonged my life till you came. I
rejoice exceedingly at the mercies of the Lord!" On November 8th, we
baptized her with seven others, and on the 10th administered to her for
her blindness by laying hands on her head and blessing her. When we had
attended to the ordinance she stated that she could see a little, which
was more than she had done for eight years. "God be praised for His
mercies," she said.

Sunday, November 13th, I preached twice to large congregations at Mahu,
where we arrived on the 11th. We also had a number of applicants for
baptism, and on the 14th eight members were added to the Church by the
ordinance, and we blessed two children. A Catholic priest called on us,
and I had a pointed discussion with him on authority in the Church, and
the true Gospel. We parted good friends, he promising to come again
next day, but he did not do so; although he passed by the house, but
never looked towards us. On the 16th we added five more souls to
the Church by baptism.

Our missionary labors continued in different villages, and on November
23 Elder Seegmiller baptized the school teacher at Mataura, also two of
the governor's daughters. On the 21st the captain of a schooner that
had called at the island told us we could go to Tahiti on his vessel,
starting on the 24th. Elder Seegmiller aided me in preparing for the
voyage, and I bade farewell to the people, who were very much attached
to us. I shook hands with the governor, when his eyes filled with
tears, he kissed me, and was so full of emotion that it was difficult
for him to speak. In due time the vessel sailed, Elder Seegmiller going
on it to Mataura, three miles down the coast, where he went ashore, as
we had agreed, and I was alone so far as a missionary companion was

At Mataura the French police justice and his wife, a Marquesas woman,
came aboard, and at 6 p.m. we weighed anchor. The schooner was very
much crowded, the cargo including four women, two children, fourteen
men, three horses, twenty hogs, one goat, one dog, about one hundred
chickens, eight or ten turkeys, eleven thousand cocoanuts, and a lot
of other things. The most comfortable place I could find was on the
companion-way, where I sat, as I was not able to use my crutches on
the vessel. The first night out I found I could not sleep in my berth,
as it was too cramped and the tobacco smoke and foul air were too much
for me, so I camped on the companion-way with my blanket, and was very
seasick. The next night I fared about the same, and it was pretty hard
on me; but the third night, Saturday, I went below before the others
did, and obtained a fairly good night's rest.

Sunday, November 27, we sighted Tahiti, but a heavy rain and calm
held us back over Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. On the last-named
day the crew caught a shark, and we had some of it boiled for supper.
Thursday, December 1st, we landed at Papeete in a heavy rainstorm, and
quite exhausted. I was met by my son Elando, and once on shore I was
refreshed with palatable food and good news from my family. We spent
our time the next fourteen days in missionary labors in Papeete, to
the best advantage, and on the sixth baptized eight persons into the
Church. My health was decidedly poor at this time.

We had arranged with Mr. Henry Marvin for passage on the schooner
_Avaroa_ to the Tuamotu islands, sailing on December 15th. We left
on the date named and though we had some headwinds and calms, we had
a good voyage; for the captain (a Hawaiian) and crew were agreeable,
the vessel was kept clean and in perfect order, and the table was well
supplied with a good variety of food. We sighted several islands, and
on the 20th stopped at Niau, which has a population of one hundred, all
members of the Josephite Church. Their presiding officer and a number
of his people came on board and gave us six chickens and six baskets
of cocoanuts as a token of friendship. I talked to them on the Gospel
message I had to deliver as a missionary.

We went ashore on the island of Apatai on the 23rd, as Mr. Marvin
had some business there. The people were rather indifferent to us as
missionaries. I visited the governor, who said he had been my servant
on the island of Anaa when I was there forty years before. He was very
much afflicted with a carbuncle on the back of his head and neck, and
could move about only by crawling on his hands and knees. I lanced his
carbuncle, and he recovered.

Christmas Day, 1892, was spent on the schooner _Avaroa_, and we sought
the coolest place we could find and ate watermelons, thinking of our
mountain home and the loved ones in Utah. Next day we sailed into
port at Taroa, and were met by Elder Joseph W. Damron and some native
Saints. I was welcomed to the home of Mr. Mapuhi, a seven-roomed frame
house, built on pillars of coral stone and beautifully furnished in
American fashion. The place seemed perfectly lovely, and a surprise for
us in the way of a spring mattress to sleep on was doubly welcome. The
following day was the 27th, and I had the privilege of preaching to a
good audience.

The 28th of December was Wednesday, and the morning was marked by the
receipt of an invitation to a triple wedding and feast to be held
that afternoon at the government building. I attended and by request
performed the marriage ceremony for the three couples. I also availed
myself of the opportunity to address the assemblage briefly on the
subjects of marriage and baptism for the dead. This day I had the
unusual experience of standing in the door of the house where we were
lodging and viewing a large school of whales pass by.

New Year's day, 1893, was the time for a conference of the Saints to be
held on the island of Faiti, so preparations were made on December 29th
for us to leave Taroa. On this date I met a native Chilean, who said
he came from San Antonio, about thirty miles south of Valparaiso. When
I heard this, it called to my mind a statement of Dr. J. M. Bernhisel,
that he had learned from the Prophet Joseph Smith that that was near
the place where Lehi and his colony, told of in the Book of Mormon,
landed in America, on their journey from Jerusalem. In the afternoon we
started, on Mapuhi's schooner, for Faiti, six boatloads of the Saints
going along. Our vessel had twenty persons aboard. The wind was fair,
and on Saturday, December 31st, we reached Faiti, landing about 9:30
a.m. Our reception was rather cool, as we were ushered into a large
room, almost bare save a long table and a few chairs, and were left
alone much of the time. However, we had good beds at night. In the
morning, Sunday, January 1st, we held meeting, and I called for those
who had known me on my former mission to stand up. Seventeen persons
arose to their feet, and stated that they remembered and recognized me.
Our meetings at conference were well attended. The presiding officer of
the Church in the Tuamotu islands was a blind man, and he asked me a
number of questions to satisfy himself that I was the same one who had
been there forty years before with Elders Pratt and Grouard. I baptized
him at that time. When he was fully convinced he remarked that if I had
not come he would not have received the young missionaries, referring
to Elders Damron, Jones, and my son Elando.

It was January 4th before the people gave us the public reception that
was customary. At the ceremony an aged man related how they had prayed
that I might come back to them again, to teach them the true Gospel.
That day the French gen d' armes made some charges of irregularity
against the owner of our boat, saying the captain had not the proper
papers. It was generally understood, however, that the trouble
originated with the Catholic priest. Matters were finally settled. Next
morning I went fishing with our landlord and caught six nice rock cod,
where the sea was ten fathoms deep. The water was so clear that through
a glass we could see the bottom, with the myriad beauties and great
variety of fish at that place. The anchor of the canoe got fast in a
coral reef, and our host dived down and released it.

We continued to hold meetings all the week to give the people a correct
understanding of our mission; then, on January 9th, my son Elando and
I sailed for the island of Anaa, arriving there at noon that day, and
being warmly welcomed by the people of Tuuhora, where we landed.

On the 11th, I walked over the ground where I had been held a prisoner
by the French government, and visited the cemetery where was the grave
of the policeman who had been killed in an affray subsequent to my
departure. On the afternoon of the 13th, I visited the graves of those
who were hanged by the French government for their part in the tragedy.
Upon my return from the cemetery, a warrant was served on me by a
policeman. It was in both French and English, the English translation
reading as follows:

"_Monsieur Jacob, Ministre Mormon:_

"The gen d' arme chief of port at Anaa invites Mr. Jacob (James),
Mormon minister at Tuuhora, to come to the government house at Tuuhora
(Fare Hau), to listen to a communication which he desires him to hear.

                                                           "Cy. Cours,

                                       "The Gen d' arme Chief of Post.

"Tuuhora, 13th January, 1893."

Of course I responded to this invitation from the chief of police, so
with my son Elando reported as requested, to listen to an order made
by the governor of the Tuamotu group of islands. The chief of police
warned us particularly that if we caused the slightest disturbance
among the people over the meeting house, or otherwise, it might result
seriously to me. This was repeated six times, in an emphatic tone of
voice. The officer refused utterly to hear anything from us, saying, "I
follow out my instructions. You must not step your foot inside of the
meeting house at Temeraia, nor the house here."

Finding it was useless for us to say anything, we bade the chief of
police and the interpreter (Mr. Burns, an Englishman) good-bye, and
left them to their stench of strong drink.



AFTER the severe warning from the governor, we returned to our
missionary labors, preaching to the people as we could find
opportunity. The Sunday following this occurrence (January 15th) we
had three well-attended meetings in a private meeting house, and
on Monday we went in a boat to Putuahara, a town of two thousand
people on my first visit but now dwindled down to a place with less
than sixty inhabitants. All the ablebodied men were away, engaged in
pearl-fishing. This is the place where the people killed the French
policeman and severely beat the Catholic priest, as already stated.

We conversed with and preached to the inhabitants until the 25th, when
we went to Otopipi, but returned that same day, as our friends there
were absent from home. Our missionary work in Putuahara continued till
February 4th, when we again went to Otopipi. Next day being Sunday I
had the privilege of preaching to a large congregation. There were
thirty-one native members of the Church present. Many of the people in
attendance were Catholics, and my remarks raised quite a discussion
among them, some of them being for and others against me. Early
on Monday, according to previous arrangement, we sailed around to
Temeraia, receiving a hearty welcome there.

At this place we met the granddaughter of John Hawkins, once an Elder
in this mission and now a Josephite. I also visited the spot where I
had been arrested in the year 1851. The house had been cleared away
since then, and an old wrecked boat occupied the site. We held meetings
and had a large attendance, though the weather was intensely hot and
oppressive, and my health quite poor.

On February 17th a young man named Temia fell thirty-five feet from a
tree and broke his arm in three places, the bones coming through his
skin in one place. With such hot weather, and no surgical or medical
attendance available, it looked as though his chances for recovery
seemed slight. We visited him again on the 28th, and his case looked
even more serious. We administered to him, and he ultimately recovered.
Towards the latter part of the month the people began to feel more
friendly to us, and received us more cordially than at first.

While we were in meeting on March 1st, the governor passed, and as
he was averse to recognizing us then as previously, I called to him
and asked the reason. His reply was that it was not wise to do so. I
continued to talk with him, and he became more sociable, confessing
that it was the darkness of his heart that had caused him to act so
improperly. I advised him to repent of his sins and ask the Lord to
give him light, and he felt better. Two days after this I beheld the
unusual sight of a leper, as one passed the house--a painful picture
to behold. The third day a man and his wife were baptized into the
Church. A visit to Tuuhora was made on March 6th. and on the return
voyage, while diving for pearls, an eel was discovered under a rock
in deep water. It took quite a light to capture it, but it was a fine
one--about four feet long. We went to Putuahara on March 13, and during
the remainder of the month continued our missionary labors, meeting
with no unusual experiences.

On March 31st, Elders Damron and Jones came from Fakariva, and
native members of the Church began to arrive in preparation for our
conference, which was set for April 6th, 1893. At 7 o'clock that
morning we assembled in conference, being the same actual time when
the Saints were meeting for the dedication of the Temple in Salt Lake
City, Utah--10 a.m. at the latter place. I explained to the Saints in
conference the nature and importance of the event just named. Elder
Damron also spoke on temple building, and after the close of our
meeting we went to the seashore, where we held a short service, and
my son Elando baptized five persons into the Church. We also ordained
three native Elders and appointed two of them to preside over branches
of the Church. The conference continued till Sunday evening, and all in
attendance had a most enjoyable time.

We had received word on Saturday that eight Elders had arrived at
Papeete from Utah, and at the close of conference we decided that we
had better return to Tahiti as soon as possible. Next morning we bade
farewell to the weeping Saints, and set sail for Tuuhora. From there we
took passage for Taroa. On April 12th, we stopped at Apatai, where I
went ashore and met a number of people whom I had baptized on my former
mission. They did not display much of a hospitable feeling, as none
invited me to their houses.

Taroa was reached on April 16th, and the hearty welcome there was
highly appreciated after a voyage which had been very unpleasant to me,
as I had been quite ill. We were met by Messrs. Marvin and Mapuhi, and
escorted to the latters fine residence. It being Sunday, we attended
meetings. My son Elando was also called on, on on April 21st, to preach
the funeral sermon over a young man who had died of consumption.

On the morning of April 27th, the schooner _Avaroa_ came into port,
having on board the French governor of the Tuamotu group, also the
native governor of Taroa. We had a friendly chat with them, the
Frenchman saying he had been in Salt Lake City. He invited me to visit
him when I went to Fakariva again. Next day the people assembled to pay
their respects to the governor, and we also had another pleasant chat
with him.

We started from Taroa on Monday, May 1st, on the _Avaroa_, but as the
vessel was going out to sea she struck on a rock which disabled the
rudder, and it took till evening to repair it. Then we sailed for
Fakariva, reaching there the following afternoon. The French governor
went ashore, and later we did the same. Next morning we took breakfast
with him, being invited to come again whenever we were on the island.
That afternoon we sailed for Tahiti, reaching Papeete harbor on
Saturday, May 6th, and meeting there Elders Edward Sudbury, Frank Goff,
Frank Cutler, Eugene M. Cannon, Carl J. Larsen, Thomas L. Woodbury,
Fred C. Rossiter and Jesse M. Fox, all from Utah.

At a meeting of the missionaries held on May 13th, Elders Carl J.
Larsen and Thomas L. Woodbury were appointed to go to the Tuamotu
islands, Elders Frank Goff and Jesse M. Fox to Tubuoi, with my son
Elando and myself and the others remaining on Tahiti for a short time.
Through Mr. Marvin we engaged passage on a French man-of-war going to
Tubuoi, the captain giving his permission. But after we had packed
our trunks and purchased our provisions for the journey, the captain
suggested that we had better get a permit from the governor. We tried
to do so, but that official responded with an abrupt "No." So we had to
await another opportunity.

For some time previous to this date my health had been poorer than
usual, and it grew worse, so that it was with difficulty I attended to
missionary labors and to conducting the mission affairs. I continued
at work, however, the best I could, and my fellow-missionaries were
devoted to their duties. Some of them were in the best of health, but
others were not so fortunate; indeed, one of them, Edward Sudbury, was
under the necessity of returning home shortly after the date of which I
write. On May 25th we received mail telling us of the dedication of the
Temple in Salt Lake City, and the notable events connected therewith.

I had tried to get a hall in which to hold meetings for the European
residents of Papeete, my last efforts in that line being on June 13th,
but I was unsuccessful, so we had to do without, and endeavor to reach
them and the natives in other ways. On June 25th we held a council
meeting of all the Elders on Tahiti, eight in number, at which methods
for the best conduct of the mission were considered. Among other events
of the meeting was the unanimous expression by my fellow-missionaries
of the opinion that my state of health was such that I should go home.
A motion that I do so was put and carried, all but myself voting in
favor of my going by the next mail steamer, which sailed July 8th. I
thought that if conditions improved before that time, I would be at
liberty to remain longer in the mission field. Elder Sudbury was also
in such health that he was booked to start home at the same time, and
my son Elando was selected to accompany us, and give me the attention I

My health showing no signs of improvement, passage was secured on
the brig Galilee, bound for San Francisco. On June 27th we had seen
two persons from Anaa, who informed us there was trouble there,
the missionaries not obtaining their rights to preach. I gave such
advice as I felt would be safe to follow, and Elder J. W. Damron, who
succeeded me in the presidency of the mission, was left to deal with

On July 4th, my sixty-fifth birthday, John Hawkins, one of my
fellow-laborers of forty-two years before, who had apostatized and
joined the Josephites, called, with others. He was particularly bitter
towards the Church. That day little Tapura, between six and seven years
old, brought me, of her own volition, a large and beautiful bouquet of
flowers--an act of kindness scarcely to be expected in one so young.
She is the daughter of Mr. Topaz, who was very kind to us.

The day previous to our going on board, the neighbors brought in
bananas and cocoanuts for our use on the voyage, and we were treated
well. We bade farewell to friends and associates, all being sorry at
the parting, and on July 8th I sailed for the last time from the harbor
of Papeete, island of Tahiti. The words of Apostle Lorenzo Snow, spoken
to me before commencing my journey, had been fulfilled. Though this
mission had not been so long as some of the others I had filled, it had
been one of the greatest and best I had performed, so far as relates
to the work I had been the means of accomplishing in reopening and
establishing the Society Islands mission.

Our vessel this voyage was very different to those we often had to use
in our travels from place to place, even in the same island. We also
bade adieu to the native method of landing from boats, which always
brought discomfort and often serious peril. For illustration, it was
no uncommon thing, when approaching harbor, to have to pass through
breakers across a coral reef where there was barely room for the boat
to glide between the rocks. Sometimes the vessel would be run close
to the opening, the occupants would spring out on to the rocks on each
side of the passage, and seizing the boat, would hold it there till
the large or "three-twin-sisters" wave came along; and then, by its
aid, would drag or push the boat through in safety. In such times as
these my lame condition was hindersome to the extent of being more than
annoying; it was exasperating. But I always got through, though it was
hard work, and my companions gave the needed assistance with perfect

The voyage to San Francisco was without particular event more than is
usual on such occasions, as was also the journey from San Francisco to
Salt Lake City by rail. We reached home about the middle of August,
and were welcomed cordially. I reported to the First Presidency the
condition of affairs in the mission, the progress we had made, with the
difficulties that were to be met with. Elando and I had been absent for
sixteen months, and had worked with diligence to perform our part.

Our efforts had been blessed of the Lord, for many people who had been
astray from the path of life were led to direct their footsteps in the
straight and narrow path. The Society Islands mission had been reopened
successfully, and yet continues to prosper, the membership in the
Church there being quite numerous.



AS my health was far from satisfactory, I was able to do but little
after my return from the Society Islands in August, 1893. I gave my
farm some attention, and traveled occasionally among the people. In
February, 1894, I received an invitation from James H. Love, manager
for the concession of the '49 mining camp at the Midwinter Fair, in
Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, to be present there. The invitation
came to me through Israel Evans, of Lehi, Utah, who had been with me in
California in 1848. I accepted, and in company with Israel Evans and my
son James T. Brown, went to California in the month named.

This visit to California extended about thirty days. We were treated
with the greatest kindness. Our place of lodging at the miner's cabin
on the fair grounds was comfortably fitted, and besides viewing the
most excellent exhibits of this notable Midwinter Exposition, we also
visited most of the places of interest in the locality. We were honored
guests in every parade, and nothing more could be desired in the way of
courtesies to make our stay pleasant.

While in California on this occasion I wrote my pamphlet. "Authentic
History of the First Discovery of Gold in Sutter's Mill Race,
California." This was the first accurate history of that event I had
seen in print, all the other accounts having been gathered from hearsay
and broken narratives, while I had the advantage of being an actual
participant in the historic occurrence.

In March, 1894, I returned home, and continued my ordinary labors, my
health being considerably improved. At this time I began preparing
my journal for publication, having to rewrite it to place it in
presentable form, as much of it had been noted down under very adverse
circumstances; it was also necessary to condense it greatly, many items
of real interest being abbreviated to a considerable extent.

I believe now that if I had realized at the outset what a great task
it was, I should not have attempted it, notwithstanding the fact that
I was fully aware that my life's experience had been filled with
unusually interesting episodes. But I had not been accustomed to giving
up a work once undertaken with a good aim; so I have continued to the
present, and as I prepare this chapter, the earlier part of the work is
in the hands of the printer. The only literary experience I have had
previous to this work is writing a history of the first mission to the
Pacific Islands and the subsequent progress of events in the Society
Islands mission up to 1893, the manuscript of which history was filed
with and is now a part of the records of the Church historian's office.

In July, 1897, Utah's Semi-Centennial Jubilee was celebrated, the
occasion being the fiftieth anniversary of the entrance of the Mormon
Pioneers into the valley of the Great Salt Lake, July 24, 1847. The
chief ceremonies were in Salt Lake City, July 20th to 25th, and I had
the honor and pleasure of being present. I had not the privilege of
being classed as one of the pioneers, for these were limited in the
celebration to those who reached Utah in 1847, and I did not arrive
there from the west till 1848. With the Mormon Battalion members,
however, I was a Mormon pioneer, in the memorable journey across the
country to the Pacific; I was also a pioneer in California, and later
in Utah and surrounding places. The committee on the semi-centennial
celebration, however, noted the fact that the members of the Mormon
Battalion were entitled to recognition in connection with the Utah
pioneer band, for the work of both was intimately associated. In
pursuance of this, there was sent to me under date of July 19th, a
letter containing this announcement:

"Survivors of the Mormon Battalion, the Nauvoo Legion, Captain Ballo's
Band, and the Martial Band, are requested to meet at Pioneer Square on
Tuesday next, July 20th, at 9 o'clock a.m., sharp, for the purpose of
marching in advance of the original band of Pioneers to witness the
unveiling ceremonies upon that occasion. Those who are able to walk are
earnestly requested to do so, but those who are too feeble to walk will
join them at the Monument.

"Hoping to see you with us at the appointed time, I am,

                              "Yours respectfully,

                                   "H. F. MCGARVIE,

                                 "Assistant Director-General."

I responded to this limited notice, in common with other members of the
Mormon Battalion at hand. But the summary treatment was in such strong
contrast to the consideration and courtesy extended at the Midwinter
Fair, and subsequently at the California Golden Jubilee, that its
effect was to enhance greatly, in the minds' of those who participated
in the California and the Utah celebrations, the admiration for the
California managers in their broad and thorough comprehension of the
amenities of such historic public events. But I must add here that the
Mormon Battalion members, whose journey west was over another route
than that followed by the companies which came direct to the Salt
Lake Valley, were fitly honored in the hearts of Utah's people as of
the pioneer band in the great west. December 1, 1897, I received the

                                  "1216 HYDE STREET, SAN FRANCISCO,

                                                "November 29, 1897.

"_Mr. James S. Brown:_

"DEAR SIR: The celebration committee of the Society of California
Pioneers, expect, though as yet no formal action has been taken, to
invite yourself, Mr. J. Johnston, Mr. Azariah Smith, and Mr. Henry W.
Bigler, who were with Marshall at Coloma on the 24th of January, 1848,
to come to San Francisco as honored guests of the Society, and at its
expense, to participate in the semi-centennial celebration of that
eventful day, on the 24th of January next.

"If we should send such an invitation to you, will you come and be with
us? Letters from Mr. Bigler and Mr. Smith lead me to hope that they
will accept the invitation.

"So soon as formal action is taken, you will be informed either by
myself or by the secretary of our committee.

                                    "Yours truly,

                                       "JOHN S. HITTELL.

                          "A member of the Celebration Committee."

My response was that if my health would permit, and all things were
satisfactory, I should be pleased to accept such an invitation. I
received another letter from Mr. Hittell, under date of December 15th,
in which he said:

"_Mr. James S. Brown:_

"DEAR SIR: This evening the celebration committee of the Pioneer
Society adopted a resolution to invite you to attend the Golden Jubilee
of California, as an honored guest of the Society, which will provide
you with first class transportation from and to your home, and take
charge of your hotel bill from the 22nd of January till the 31st of
January, 1898, in this city.

"Mr. B. H. and Mr. H. B. Luther, brothers, say that they were at Coloma
on the 24th of January, 1848, as boys, with their father and mother.
Do you know them and remember when they reached Coloma? They say their
mother, who was with them there, is still living."

Under date of December 25th, Mr. Hittell also wrote me:

"_Captain James S. Brown:_

"DEAR SIR: Please let me know the amount of the railroad fare from Salt
Lake to Ogden, so that we may forward the sum to you by letter; we
expect to send you a ticket from Ogden to this city, including a lower
berth in a sleeping car.

"We hope that you, Bigler, Smith and Johnston will all come in the same
car. I have addressed a similar letter to each of the other three.

"Thanks for your letter of December 20th. I was satisfied that Gregson
and the Luthers were not at the sawmill on the 24th of January, 1848.

"I suppose the best train would be the one leaving Salt Lake City at
9:10 p.m., on January 20th, arriving at San Francisco January 22nd, at
9:45 a.m. Does that suit you?"

The next communication on the subject was as follows:


                                                   "January 7, 1898,

"_James S. Brown, Esq., Salt Lake City:_

"DEAR SIR: The Society of California Pioneers invites you to attend the
Golden Jubilee Celebration of our State, and to accept the hospitality
of the Society in San Francisco, from the 22nd till the 31st of
January, 1898. Enclosed find a pass from the S. P. R. R. Co., for your
passage from Ogden to San Francisco and return. We send you today by
Wells, Fargo & Co.'s Express, fifteen dollars in coin to pay for your
sleeping berth and meals on the way. We have engaged a lower berth for
you on the Pullman car which leaves Ogden on the night of Thursday, the
20th instant.

"The reception committee will meet you on the Oakland boat on the morning
of Saturday, the 22nd, and will wear the badge of the Society. Should
you miss seeing them you will go to the Russ House, where we have
engaged rooms and board for you.

"Should you not be able to come, please return the enclosed railroad
pass, and notify the ticket agent at Ogden that you will not use the
sleeping berth.

                       "Yours truly,

                                     "J. I. SPEAR, Secretary.

"P. S.--We have arranged to have your railroad pass extended for thirty
days if you wish it. S."

Like my Mormon Battalion companions who were with me on the memorable
24th of January, 1848, I could not but feel highly gratified at the
courtesy extended, and look forward with pleasure to the commemoration,
under so favorable circumstances and with such marvelous progress as
California had made in civilization, of the fiftieth anniversary of a
notable event, which at the time of its occurrence, came to us in the
midst of hardships, fatigue and almost exile from home and relatives,
yet was a world-wonder in the results which followed the announcement
to the world of California's great gold discovery.



IN response to the invitation from the Society of California Pioneers,
I left Salt Lake City on January 20, 1898, in company with Henry W.
Bigler, Azariah Smith and Wm. J. Johnston, who, like myself, were
guests of the Society. We reached Oakland, California, January 22,
and were met by Mr. John H. Jewett, president of the society, and a
committee consisting of Messrs. John S. Hittell, Almarin B. Paul,
General Wm. H. Pratt, and Misses Anna P. Green and Mary M. Green. The
ladies pinned badges of the Society of California Pioneers on the
lapels of our coats. We were received with the greatest cordiality, and
were taken to the Russ House, San Francisco, where we were comfortably
lodged, being shown special consideration by the proprietor and
his amiable wife, and from that time on we were given the best of
attention. Nothing that could be done was too good for us, and language
fails to express our high appreciation of the courtesy and kindness

Whenever we attended any of the functions of California's Golden
Jubilee Celebration, or desired to visit a place, carriages were at our
service. January 24th was the fiftieth anniversary of the discovery
of gold at Sutter's mill race, and there was a magnificent pageant in
celebration of the event. We occupied the post of distinction in the
procession, our carriage bearing the legend, "Companions of Marshall."
We were the only survivors of that notable occasion, fifty years
before. The place of honor was also accorded to us at the celebration
ceremonies in the evening at Wood's Pavilion, and on the 27th we were
at a reception in Pioneer Hall, and greeted the multitudes, old and
young, anxious to see and shake hands with us; and at the Mining Fair
our treatment was characterized by the same cordial and distinguished
welcome. The celebration ceremonies lasted the entire week. When at our
hotel we were besieged by reporters, and hundreds of people called to
see us, and get our autographs. Our photographs also were taken for the
Society of Pioneers.

Outside of the celebration proper, there was the same magnanimous
kindness. I could not name all the citizens who extended to us marked
courtesies, but feel that I must specially mention Captain John T.
McKenzie of the steamer _San Rafael_, who was very attentive, also Hon.
Irving Scott, manager of the great Union Iron Works, at which place we
had a particularly interesting visit and entertainment.

Two of my companions started home on January 31st, and the third on
February 2nd. I stayed a few days longer, visiting my brother at
Petaluma. I also went to many other places of interest, then returned
home, all expenses of my journey being provided. A few days later I
received the following:


                                                  "February 9, 1898,

"_James S. Brown, Esq., Salt Lake City, Utah:_

"DEAR SIR: I have the honor of advising you that at the monthly meeting
of the members of the Society held at Pioneer Hall on Monday, February
7, 1898, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted:

"_Whereas_, The Golden Jubilee just passed marks the second grand event
as connected with the first discovery of gold in California, and as all
pioneers feel gratified at the universal desire of the people to pay
tribute to the pioneer days, now be it

"_Resolved_, That the Society of California Pioneers tenders its
thanks to the press generally; to the state and city officials; to the
military as a body; to the various mining associations; to the Native
Daughters and Native Sons of the Golden West, and to the many other
organizations that participated in making the grand pageant of January
24th a splendid success. And be it further

"_Resolved_, That the thanks of this society are also tendered to
Henry W. Bigler, James S. Brown, Wm. J. Johnston and Azariah Smith,
the companions of Marshall, in lending their presence for the Jubilee;
and especially do we appreciate the efforts and labors of the
executive committee of the Golden Jubilee, and we also return thanks
to the Southern Pacific Company for complimentary passes to the four
companions of Marshall to and from San Francisco and Ogden, also for
its liberal contribution to the Golden Jubilee held under auspices of
the society; and also to Irving M. Scott on part of the Union Iron
Works, for the invitation to the companions of Marshall and members of
this Society to visit the works, and the placing at our disposal their
tug for the trip, and further for the many courtesies extended to all
by the several officers connected with the works while there.

                                    "J. H. JEWETT, President."

On February 20th this note came:

                                  "1316 HYDE STREET, SAN FRANCISCO,

                                                "February 18, 1898.

"_Mr. James S. Brown:_

"Dear Sir: Your letter of the 16th inst, with the news that you
had arrived safely at home, has given me pleasure. I felt some
responsibility for my part in bringing four old men so far away from
home, but now that I know all have arrived in good health at Salt Lake,
I congratulate myself that events have turned out so favorably. I have
had no letter from Mr. Bigler or Mr. Smith, but they will write to me.

"I spoke promptly to Mr. Spear, the secretary, about sending fifteen
dollars to pay for the expenses of your return trip, and I understood
him to promise that the money would be transmitted to you by check.

"The Pioneer Society will long preserve a pleasant recollection of
the participation of the four companions of Marshall in our Jubilee
celebration, and personally I shall always be glad to hear of their

                                "Yours truly,

                                              "JOHN S. HITTELL."

Here is the closing communication in relation to my latest visit to
California and the occasion which caused it:

                                        "San Francisco, March 9, 1898.

"_Mr. James S. Brown, Salt Lake City:_

"DEAR SIR: Enclosed please find a copy of the report of the reception
committee of the Golden Jubilee:

"_To John H. Jewett, President of the California Pioneers:_

"The reception committee appointed by the Society to receive its guests
attending the celebration of the Golden Jubilee on the 24th of January
last, begs leave to report that its task has been completed.

"On the morning of January 22nd all the members of the committee
received and welcomed the four companions of Marshall on the overland
train at Oakland, and escorted them to the Russ House, where, under
the direction of President John H. Jewett, they were provided with
comfortable accommodations.

"These four men, the only survivors of those who were with Marshall at
Coloma when he discovered gold there on Monday, the 24th of January,
1848, are:

"I. Henry W. Bigler, born in Harrison County, West Virginia, August
28th, 1815, who in his diary made the only written record of the gold
discovery on the day of its occurrence. He is now a resident of St.
George, Utah.

"2. Azariah Smith, born at Boylston, New York, on the 1st of August,
1828, who, on the first Sunday after the discovery, wrote in his diary
that gold had been found in the preceding week.

"3. James S. Brown, born in Davison County, North Carolina, on the 4th
of July, 1828, who recollects that on the evening of January 24th,
1848, H. W. Bigler said he would write in his diary that something like
gold had been discovered, as it might be important some day. He resides
in Salt Lake City.

"4. Wm. J. Johnston, born near New Baltimore, Ohio, on the 21st of
August, 1824, and now resides in Ramah, New Mexico.

"These four men are all clear in mind, and for their years, strong and
active in body.

"In the procession on the 24th they occupied a carriage marked
'Companions of Marshall.' On the evening of that day, they were
entertained in our hall with special honor, and two days later they
held a reception in the same place. Various members of our Society,
and especially Captain McKenzie, showed them much attention. They
were guests of honor at the Mining Fair on the opening evening. Hon.
Irving M. Scott, manager of the Union Iron Works, gave them a special
entertainment at his shipyard; and other citizens contributed to make
their stay in our city pleasant. The whole Jubilee week was a round of
festivity for them.

"Messrs. Bigler and Smith were escorted to their returning train at
Oakland on the 31st of January. Mr. Johnston two days later, and Mr.
Brown in the next succeeding week. They all reached their homes safely,
and all have written to members of the committee acknowledging the
attention and honor shown to them by the Society of California Pioneers.

"As they are the only persons now living who saw gold in the days of
its discovery, their attendance at our semi-centennial celebration
connected our Jubilee in a highly interesting manner with the great
event which it commemorated. We may add that personal acquaintance with
these venerable men has been a source of pleasure to all members of
this committee, as well as to many other Pioneers.

                    "Respectfully submitted,

                                      "JOHN S. HITTELL, Chairman.
                                      "ALMARIN B. PAUL,
                                      "W. H. PRATT."

Upon my return home, I again gave attention to this autobiography,
which proved no light task, as my health has been far from good.

On the 14th of December, 1899, a keen sorrow came to myself and family.
My son Homer, in his twenty-sixth year, died on that date, as a result
of injuries received at a cave-in at the Silver King mine, Park City,
Utah, three weeks before. When war broke out between Spain and the
United States in 1898, he enlisted in response to President McKinley's
call for volunteers, and became a member of Troop C, Utah Volunteer
Cavalry. After his return from California, where the cavalry was sent,
he was married, the event occurring two months before the accident
which cost him his life. On December 19, he was buried in Salt Lake
City, the funeral services being held at the Seventeenth Ward assembly

In the summer of 1898, I was added to the list of Utah's Old Folks,
attending the excursion to Lagoon, Davis County, in July, 1898, to
Geneva, Utah County, in July, 1899, and again at Lagoon on July 6,
1900. The Old Folks include all people over seventy years of age,
independent of creed, race or color; these are accorded receptions,
excursions, and similar happy courtesies, as marks of honor and respect
to the aged. The central committee having this highly appreciated
undertaking in charge has for its chairman the Presiding Bishop of the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

By the close of 1899, I had completed the preparation of my life's
history for publication in a neat volume, and soon thereafter arranged
for the printing, which at this date, July, 1900, is accomplished. Now
that I have reached the seventy-second annual milestone of my life, I
realize that the period for especially notable or thrilling events in
my mortal career is past; and in the publication of my autobiography, I
sincerely trust that this humble final extended labor on my part will
achieve the principle aim of its performance, that of doing good to
those who live after me, in the witness its record bears of the mercy,
power, and goodness of God, and the latter-day progress of His great
and loving design for the blessing and salvation of His children. With
this attainment, the influence of the record, LIFE OF A PIONEER, will
be in accord with the sincere desire and earnest effort of my soul
throughout life.

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