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 same.
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 questions.
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.
CHAPTER II.
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 ILLLNOIS—MY DETERMINATION TO GO WITH THE MORMONS—CONFIDE A SECRET TO MY MOTHER—A NEW CONSULTATIONS—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.
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
