CHAPTER VI.

WARNED TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY OR RENOUNCE "MORMONISM"--WIFE AND CHILDREN THREATENED--A BOY'S PLUCK--FORCED TO FLEE FOR OUR LIVES--PROPERTY CONFISCATED--BATTLE OF CROOKED RIVER--PROVIDENTIALLY SAVED--FAR WEST BESIEGED--ESCAPE TO IOWA--PURSUED--PROVIDENTIAL SNOW STORM.

In a day or two after my return home, Mr. Richard Welding, of whom I had bought my farm, came to me, accompanied by three or four others. He gave me warning to leave the country at once.

I asked him why I must leave, saying: "Have I not bought my land, and paid you for it? Have I not attended to my own business?"

He replied: "Mr. Young, we do not want you to leave. You are a good neighbor and citizen, and if you will only be man enough to renounce Joe Smith and your religion, we want you to remain with us, and I will protect you in your rights. The Mormons must all leave the country, and if you do not renounce them, you must go too."

I paid no attention to this warning.

Three or four days after this occurrence, four men rode up in front of my house, when I happened to be away, called Sister Young to the door, and again gave warning that we had better leave.

By her side stood our little boy, Joseph W. One of the men, using an oath, ordered him to go into the house or he would blow his brains out. The boy stepped back, without his mother noticing what he was doing, took my rifle, which was standing in the room, and, before he had attracted her attention, was leveling it on the threatener. She quietly told him not to fire, as they would certainly be killed if he did.

He obeyed, but manifested considerable beligerency for one of his age.

About five days after this warning, early in the morning, I looked up the road towards Gallatin, and saw a man on horseback coming towards my house at full speed. As he rode up he inquired: "Is your name Young?"

I answered that it was.

He continued: "I have rode from Gallatin to inform you that, in two or three hours, there will be a company of forty men here, who assert that if they find you here, they will fasten you and your family in your house and burn it down. For God's sake, if you value your own life and the lives of your wife and children, do not be here an hour from now. I have come to give you this warning as a friend. Should it be found out that I have done so, I might lose my own life!"

I thanked him for his kindness, and he rode off rapidly towards Gallatin. I told Sister Young to prepare to leave at once, then attached my team to a light spring wagon, put a bed, a few cooking utensils, a trunk of clothing, and some food for the day into it. I got my wife, my four children, William, Harriet, Joseph and John into the wagon, fastened up the house and started for Far West.

I expected to return and get my goods. The next day I obtained some teams and started for my goods. I found the road strongly guarded, and the Missourians threatened to kill me if I went on. I never obtained goods, cows nor anything that I had left on my place.

This left my family very destitute, in common with others of the Saints who had been treated in like manner.

I had previously driven a fine yoke of oxen and a new milch cow to Far West, thinking I might possibly want to remove there; but Clark's army drove my oxen into camp and butchered them for beef. I was promised pay for them, but, of course, never received anything but the promise.

This was in October, 1838. I remained in Far West doing whatever was necessary for the protection of the Saints. I was on guard much of the time.

Major Seymour Brunson directed Brother A. P. Rockwood, and myself to take our horses and go out two miles north of Far West and patrol the country every night. If we saw a man, or company of men coming towards Far West, we were ordered to hail them and demand the countersign. If necessary, to make this demand the second time, when, if not given, we were to fire on them. When we arrived on the ground where we were to perform our duties, Brother Rockwood and I separated, taking different directions. It was a moonlight night. I was on the edge of a prairie with my eye along the road, when I discovered a company of mounted men coming over a swell of the prairie. I retired into the timber and took a station behind the trunk of a large tree, under the shadow of its branches, and twenty or thirty yards from the road. As the company came opposite to me, I demanded the countersign twice, as I had been ordered to do. As they paid no attention to me, I made ready to fire, intending to shoot the leader, when a strong and sudden impression came over me to hail again. I did so, and ordered them to halt. This time the leader recognized my voice, and turning towards me, asked: "Is that you, Brother Lorenzo?" I also recognized the man as Brother Lyman Wight, and, as I answered in the affirmative, rode up to his side. We were glad to meet each other, and I was very thankful that I had not obeyed orders. He was on his way from Diamond to Far West, with a company of men to assist the Saints there.

Soon after this occurrence, I returned to Far West. I told Sister Young that I hoped to get one good night's sleep. For three weeks I had not had my clothes off to lay down, and I felt much worn.

Perhaps I had slept two hours, when I was awakened by the bass drum sounding an alarm on the public square. I was soon out to see what was the matter. There were five men on the square, of whom I inquired the cause of the alarm. They informed me that two of the brethren had been taken prisoners by the mob on Crooked River, tried by a court martial that day, and condemned to be shot the coming morning at eight o'clock. A company of men was wanted to go and rescue them.

Preparations were soon made, and in a short time, about 40 mounted men, under the command of David W. Patten, were ready to start. We kept the road to a ford on Crooked River, twenty miles distant, where we expected to find the mob.

Just as the day was breaking we dismounted, about a mile from the ford, tied our horses, and left Brother Isaac Decker to watch them.

We marched down the road some distance, when we heard the crack of a rifle. Brother Obanion, who was one step in advance of me fell. I assisted brother John P. Green, who was the captain of the platoon I belonged to, to carry him to the side of the road. We asked the Lord to preserve his life, laid him down, ran on and took our places again.

The man who shot Brother Obanion was a picket guard of the mob, who was secreted in ambush by the roadside. Captain Patten was ahead of the company.

As we neared the river the firing was somewhat lively. Captain Patten turned to the left of the road, with a part of the command; Captain Green and others turned to the right.

We were ordered to charge, which we did, to the bank of the river, when the enemy broke and fled.

I snapped my gun twice at a man in a white blanket coat. While engaged in repriming my gun, he got out of range.

A tall, powerful, Missourian sprang from under the bank of the river, and, with a heavy sword in hand, rushed towards one of the brethren, crying out, "Run, you devils, or die!"

The man he was making for was also armed with a sword, but was small and poorly calculated to withstand the heavy blows of the Missourian. He, however, succeeded in defend-himself until I ran to his aid, and leveled my gun within two feet of his enemy, but it missed fire.

The Missourian turned on me. With nothing but the muzzle end of my rifle to parry his rapid blows, my situation was perilous. The man whom I had relieved, for some reason, did not come to the rescue. I succeeded in parrying the blows of my enemy until he backed me to the bank of the river. I could back no farther without going off the perpendicular bank, eight or ten feet above the water. In a moment I realized that my chances were very desperate. At this juncture the Missourian raised his sword, apparently throwing all his strength and energy into the act, as if intending to crush me with one desperate blow.

As his arm extended I saw a hand pass down the back of his head and between his shoulders. There was no other person visible, and I have always believed that I saw the hand of the angel of the Lord interposed for my deliverance. The arm of my enemy was paralyzed, and I had time to extricate myself from the perilous situation I was in.

As soon as I had time to think, I felt that the inspiration of my mother's promise had been again verified. The appearance of the hand, to me, was real. I do not see how I could have been saved in the way I was, without a providential interference.

As soon as I was out of danger, my attention was drawn to brother David W. Patten, who lay on the ground a short distance from me, mortally wounded. We hitched a pair of horses to a wagon, put brother Patten and six other wounded men into it, and started for Far West.

A few miles from the battle ground we met the Prophet Joseph, with a carriage and a company of horsemen. The wounded were taken to their homes, and such care given them as circumstances would allow.

Soon after our return to Far West, General Clark's army arrived before that city. In the evening after Joseph and Hyrum Smith and others had been taken prisoners, Hyrum Smith had the privilege of coming into Far West to see his family. From the spirit of General Clark and his army, he believed that, if they succeeded in taking the brethren who were in the Crooked River battle, they would be tried by a court martial and shot. He and Brother Brigham, and myself met on the public square. After counseling over the matter, it was decided that I, and others in the same situation, should start that night into the wilderness north, for the Des Moines River, in Iowa Territory. My brother, Phineas, being a good woodsman, was selected to pilot us.

The Saints in Far West had been so plundered by their enemies, that they had but little surplus to eat or wear.

I had on a very thin pair of pants. My wife took a sheet from the bed, and, with the assistance of some of the neighbors, hastily made me a pair of drawers. These I afterwards gave to my brother Phineas, as he seemed to suffer more with the cold than I did. Our bedding was as scanty as our clothing.

We left Far West that night, and took no food with us. We arrived about sunrise in the morning, at Adam-Ondi-Ahman, twenty-two miles from Far West. We needed some breakfast, and stopped in a clump of hazel brush, and sent one of the party to the house of Brother Gardiner Snow, to tell him our situation. He said he had not much to eat, but would do the best he could. He brought us a very good supply of stewed Missouri pumpkin and milk. Our keen appetites made this seem a very good breakfast.

There we obtained fifty pounds of chopped corn. With this meagre supply of food we continued on our journey. From the first, it was evident that we must be very saving of our food supply. We rationed on eight ounces of this meal, per man, each day. It was mixed with water, without any salt, baked in a cake before the fire, and carefully divided out.

The second day, as night was approaching, we struck the edge of a prairie, which was about four miles across. As our horses were weary, we stopped a short time to rest, when one Irvine Hodge overtook us. He informed us that General Clark, having learned of our departure, had sent a troop of sixty cavalrymen in pursuit; that they were only a few miles behind, and on our trail. Their orders were to bring us dead or alive. We had thought of camping on the spot, but concluded to cross the prairie at once. This we accomplished, and camped in the timber. In the night, snow commenced falling. It appeared to come down in sheets instead of flakes. In the morning it was about a foot and a half deep. Some of the company, at first, regretted this, but others saw and felt that the hand of the Lord was in it. My brother, Phineas, at once declared that it was the means of our deliverance. We started on and the wind began to blow. Our tracks were completely covered soon after they were made.

We afterwards learned that our pursuers camped on the opposite side of the prairie from us, where we had rested. In the morning they tried to find our trail, but finding it impossible to do so, gave up pursuit.

Thus we were saved from our enemies by a friendly interposition of the elements in our behalf.

We were fifteen days on our journey from Far West to the Des Moines River. The last three days we were without food. After the snow fell, our horses had to subsist on what they could find above it.

The brush had soon made my thin pants unavailable for covering my legs in the neighborhood of the knees. The fragments were tied up with small hickory withes. When we arrived near a house, on the Des Moines, I remained in the woods while one of my companions went to the house and obtained a pair of pants, that I might be presentable.

On this trip it seemed as though both men and animals had a wonderful power of enduring cold, hunger and fatigue. I am constrained, after more than forty years have passed away, to acknowledge a special providence in our deliverance.

I have drawn on my memory for the facts of this narrative, and think that they are correct; but there may be some errors in dates, and in the succession of events.

AN INSTANCE OF DIVINE INTERPOSITION.

BY ELDER WILLIAM BUDGE.

VISIT TO SCOTLAND--MEET OLD FRIENDS--RETURN TO LIVERPOOL--ABOUT TO GO BY STEAMER TO BRISTOL--A VOICE WARNS ME NOT TO GO--TURN BACK--SHORT OF MONEY--MEANS PROVIDENTIALLY PROVIDED--JOURNEY TO PORTSMOUTH--SEQUEL TO THE WARNING--THE STEAMER WRECKED.

I had been laboring in the Southampton Conference, England, as a missionary for about two years, when I obtained permission to visit my relatives in Scotland. It was in the latter part of the summer of 1853.

Accompanied by an Elder named Armstrong, who was going to Liverpool, I embarked at Portsmouth, on the steamship _Duke of Cornwall_, bound for that port, on the morning of the 8th of August.

Shortly after starting, we passed the British fleet, lying off Spithead, preparing for a grand review, to take place on the following Thursday, which Queen Victoria was expected to attend. The scene was both novel and interesting, as we passed near the assembled and decorated ships.

Passing the Isle of Wight, of which we had a good view, we called at Plymouth, Falmouth, and Penzance, before reaching Liverpool, passing also the celebrated Eddystone Lighthouse.

We reached Liverpool at two p. m., on the 10th, and I sailed for Glasgow within two hours afterwards. On board the Scotch steamer, I was pleased to find an old acquaintance, named George Turnbull, who was at that time a clerk in the Church office at Liverpool, and on his way, like myself, to visit his home and friends.

Brother Turnbull and I heard the gospel about the same time, in the same city, (Glasgow) and became members of the same branch of the Church; he being baptized first. This young man was a scholar, and possessed of much natural ability, and for some time, was a good Saint, but he would not run the race; he eventually fell into transgression, denied the faith, and was lost.

There were also on board the vessel, Elder Fullmer, pastor of the Liverpool Conference, and wife, and Elder John O. Angus, President of the Shropshire Conference. I was well acquainted with the latter; he was a faithful missionary, and a quiet, humble, and inoffensive man. He labored for a long time in the St. George Temple, and died some time ago.

Such company was very agreeable, but the night was somewhat stormy, and we did not reach Glasgow until two p. m. next day.

During this trip, I visited my relatives in Glasgow, Lanark, and elsewhere, and also the Saints in a district of the conference where I had formerly labored. I felt truly grateful to the Lord for all His goodness unto me, in preserving me while struggling hard in several new fields of labor to which I had been allotted, since I first left home and beg an my labors as a missionary.

On the first day of September, taking leave of my friends, I embarked on a steam vessel for Liverpool. Elder John O. Angus was also a passenger, and I, therefore, had good company during a very stormy passage. Arriving at Liverpool, we called at the Church office, Wilton Street, and lodged at the house of Elder A. F. Macdonald, president of the conference.

I intended to go by sea from Liverpool to Bristol, and by land to Salisbury, on my way back to Portsmouth, as I had not means enough to go through by railroad conveyance. I had explained this to Brother Angus, and on the morning after our arrival in Liverpool, I bade him good by, and walked down to the docks, carrying my carpet sack and a number of books, which I had brought with me from home. This was on the third day of September, 1853.

A number of people were waiting to go on board the same steam vessel I intended to take. The steamer at the time was taking in freight at the opposite side of the dock, and would call for us, so we were informed, in a short time.

While standing looking at the vessel, a voice, loud and distinct, said: "Do not go on board." I was startled, and looked around, but there was no one near. Although I turned hastily, I did not really expect to see any one who might have spoken. It was, I felt, a revelation; I was impressed with the divine force, and I lifted my satchel preparatory to leaving, but suddenly I thought of my want of means, and began to wonder whether I had not been deceived by my imagination. I put down my satchel again, just as the ship was nearing that part of the dock where the passengers were waiting. My condition tempted me. I was in doubt for a moment. I began to reason; but faith triumphed. I felt sure that it was a warning, and, lifting my baggage, left the dock for the Lime Street Station, as the people who had been waiting passed into the steamer.

Once decided, there was no further trouble, and I began to consider how I could reach Portsmouth. When I entered the station, I had concluded to take the first third-class train to Birmingham. At that time, I had no acquaintances there, and wished to hurry on, trusting that the way would be opened up as my necessities required; such having been the case many times before. The Lord had prepared the way in times past, and I had faith that He would help me then sufficiently.

I was one of those young and very inexperienced Elders, sent into the missionary field literally without purse or scrip. Elder George B. Wallace, at that time one of the presidency of the Church in Europe, sent me with several others into Cumberland County, in the North of England, where there were no Saints until we were instrumental in the hands of the Lord in bringing some to a knowledge of the truth.

It was a hard country, and we had a rough experience. In less than three months, three Elders out of five returned home; but Elder Thomas Wallace, now of Weber County, and I remained until the Lord called us somewhere else.

I have been in many new fields of labor since, without money and without friends until the Lord raised them up, but never among a people so ignorant, and unimpressionable as the people we could obtain access to in the North of England. In comparison, my prospects, as I walked into the Lime Street Station, were not at all discouraging, but as I entered, there stood Brother Angus, who was waiting for a train to take him to Shrewsbury.

He was surprised to see me, and I was a little abashed, as I felt somewhat delicate about giving him an explanation. Although satisfied myself, I had some misgivings about satisfying him. I told him, however, what had happened, and, to my relief, he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, "You have done just right, and you will see the hand of God in this."

A third-class train, I learned, would not leave until next morning, so I lodged with Brother Turnbull, who had returned to Liverpool.

The next day I went to Birmingham, and there learned that a cheap excursion train would leave for Bristol at five p. m. Bristol--going by land--was not directly on my way, but the fare being low, and going from there to Warminster and Salisbury, I was likely to reach Portsmouth sooner than any other way.

In the cars, I made the acquaintance of a lady and gentleman also going to Bristol, to visit some relatives they had in that town. After an interesting conversation they invited me to take lunch with them, which was very acceptable, and on our arrival at Bristol, they pressed me to accompany them to their friend's house, where I remained all night, being warmly received and well treated.

I had not quite a dollar in my possession, and I acknowledge the hand of the Lord in thus opening up the way for me.

On reaching Warminster next day at six p. m., I had only twelve cents left, and a heavy carpet sack, which I took to a carrier who made occasional trips with freight to Salisbury, and I started at once to walk to the latter place, distant twenty-two miles.

It was evening and the weather pleasant, and the distance nothing unusual for a missionary, but I made a mistake by starting out too fast, perspired, got tired, and was obliged to take lodging at a small way-side inn, which cost me eight cents. I slept without supper and resumed my journey without breakfast the next morning, but thanking the Lord for good health and spirits.

On reaching Salisbury, where I was a perfect stranger, I walked into the town with the intention of inquiring for Latter-day Saints, a few of whom I understood lived there. My first inquiry was of a little boy, who quickly answered "Yes, my mother is one," and at once offered to conduct me to his home, which we soon reached, and to which I was warmly welcomed.

On passing through the streets, I saw, posted upon the walls, announcements of an excursion trip to Southampton and Portsmouth, fare two shillings and six pence, or sixty-two cents in our money. Reflecting upon the means of obtaining such a sum without being obliged to write and wait for it, we reached the house of my guide's mother.

From the boy's statement that his mother was a "Mormon," I got the impression that his father, if he had one, was not, which I found to be correct. His father was not very friendly, but his mother was a very earnest Saint, and a very thoughtful and kind one, as while I sat taking some refreshments which she had hastily prepared, she brought and gave me a piece of money, the exact amount necessary to procure my ticket to Portsmouth. I again thanked the Lord, and explained to my kind sister what her gift would enable me to do. The boy had in the meantime, by her instructions, brought my carpet sack, and I was ready to continue my journey.

I reached Portsmouth on the 7th day of September, and while there on the 9th, I read in the newspaper of the total wreck of the steam vessel, on which I was about to sail from Liverpool, when I was warned by the Lord not to go on board the ship.

MY LAST MISSION TO THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.

BY WM. W. CLUFF.