Chapter 16.
Home Activities.—Counseled Not to Study Law.—Called to Uinta, and Dixie.
As soon as I had seen the army "pass through," I returned to Provo to report myself to President Young. I had been gone on my mission a little over four years, as before recorded. When Apostle John Taylor set me apart for this mission he said, "You shall be cast upon the bosom of the sea; but fear not, the hand of the Lord shall be over you, and you shall return in safety to your father's home;" also in parting President Young had said: "If you will be humble, live near the Lord, and not commit sin, when you return you will take me by the hand and tell me that you know Mormonism is true." I had kept the conditions, and I knew the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth, and that it is the power of God unto salvation to all who receive and obey it.
About this time peace was restored by President Buchanan's proclamation of pardon to the Mormons. I took hold with energy to help move my father's families back from the south, whither they had fled, at the near approach of the army. That task accomplished, I made arrangements to go to San Francisco, intending to live with my cousin, Lorenzo Sawyer, and go to school and study law.
One day, as I passed Uncle Brigham's office, he called to me, then came out and walked with me to Brother Wells' corner. We sat down on a pile of lumber, and I told him my plans. He counseled me not to go to California, to let the law alone, to find a good girl, get married, and make me a home.
During the winter I attended a school taught by Sister Eleanor Pratt, and here became acquainted with Miss S. E. Carmichael, one of Utah's most gifted daughters.
On January 1, 1859, I married Albina Terry, eldest daughter of William Reynolds and Mary Phillips Terry. During the summer following, I worked as a farm hand for my brother-in-law, Joseph G. Brown. On November 12, 1859, I moved to Payson and bought a home of David Crockett, paying for it during the winter by hauling tithing wheat from Sanpete valley to Salt Lake City.
November 16, 1859, my eldest son, John Terry, was born. The mother came near dying with hemorrhage at the nose, but Elders Levi W. Hancock and William McBride laid hands on her, and she was instantly healed.
In the spring of 1861, I was called, with ten other families of Payson, to help settle the Uinta country. I sold my home, bought two good teams, and loaded up my things; then going to Salt Lake City, I reported to President Young for specific instructions. After a long talk, in which he seemed pleased with my labors, he told me the Indians had become hostile, and he should release those who had been called. He advised that I return to Payson and buy another home. I did so, trading my teams for a house and lot and ten acres of farm land.
I also rented a ranch, with twenty cows and a flock of sheep, for three years, of James McClellan. During the summer I picked up sixty calves, to be kept on halves. I also married as second wife. Miss Lydia Knight, daughter of Newell Knight, a life long trusted friend of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Everything that I touched seemed to prosper, and I was happy—but the "best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley." In the fall, I was called, in connection with my Brother Franklin W., who at that time was bishop of Payson, to go to Dixie.
I purchased two yoke of oxen and a big wagon. My Brother Franklin W. accompanied me as far as Toquer, where we parted. I going to the Santa Clara, I bought an Indian farm situated on the creek just below the Old Mission fort. I worked hard during days, fencing with timber that grew on the place. The long evenings I spent in grubbing the heavy sage and squaw brush that covered a great portion of the farm. My wives, Albina, and Lydia, would pile the brush, and keep up fires so that I could see to work. We were ambitious to make a good home; and the only capital we had was health, strong-arms, and resolute will.
Just as I had completed the fence, and had several acres ready for plowing, the Big Flood came like a thief in the night. The wall of water, which was ten to fifteen feet high, struck the west side of the fort, a rock structure two hundred feet square, in which several families were living. The solid wall stood as a dam, causing the stream to divide the greater part following the creek channel to the south, but a sheet of water four or five feet deep spewing over the creek bank, and running along the fort wall until it came to the north side, where it swept through the gate like a mill race, flooding the inside of the fort to a man's armpits.
Such were the conditions when the inmates of the fort were awakened to their peril. The alarm was given to those living outside of the fort; and soon all the men, and some of the women, were gathered at the point of danger. The first care was to rescue the women and children.
Inside the fort, the water was comparatively still, so that men were able to move around as they wished; but as they approached the gate, no man unassisted could stem the current. To remedy this, a rope was passed from a tree on the outside, through the gate, and made fast to a post on the inside. By holding to this line, men could pass in and out; the women and children were then taken on the men's shoulders and carried to a place of safety.
The rescue was scarcely accomplished, before another danger faced us; for by this time the high tide of the flood had passed; and the channel of the creek, which had also become enlarged, sucked the water from the overflowed flats, strengthened the current in the creek, undermining its banks, and caving them in. Suddenly the southwest corner of the fort, Ira Hatch's home, fell into the flood, sweeping away everything he owned. Other families suffered, but he, taken by surprise, lost all.
Across the creek from the fort was a little grist mill owned by Jacob Hamblin. Father Chamberlain, the aged miller, with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl, were living in a dugout near the mill. The first they knew of it, a stream of water was pouring in upon them. They succeeded, however, in emerging from the trap, and climbing a near-by tree, where they passed the night in terror. In the morning they waded to a high spot on the mill-race, and none too soon, for both the tree they had climbed, and the mill, were carried away. It was three days before the water fell sufficiently for Ira Hatch and myself to wade across and rescue them.
During the summer preceding the flood, the Clara Indian missionaries had labored in the United Order. The northwest corner room of the fort had been used by them for a granary. Here they had two hundred bushels of wheat unsacked. It was agreed that all hands should assist in carrying out the wheat; while I stood, lantern in hand, to signal any danger from the encroaching flood. One hundred seventy-five bushels had been saved, when I gave the alarm. The men came out at once: and ten minutes later the room caved in.
We felt that we had done all that could be done; and the men being nearly exhausted, and chilled to the bone, went to their homes. The rope that was used at the gate had been taken down, coiled, and hung on Samuel Knight's gate. Jacob Hamblin begged me to hold the light, while he moved a pile of cord-wood, and said when that was done, he would go and rest. He had moved about half of the pile, when a large block of earth on which he stood, dropped into the flood.
I called for help. Joseph Knight ran to me, catching the rope in his hand as he came. At the bank I held the light so that we might peer into the seething waters below. So much earth had fallen that it pushed the water back; and we saw Jacob clinging desperately to snapping roots. Brother Knight rapidly made a noose and dropped it over his head and shoulders. Hamblin then grabbed the rope, and we pulled him from the jaws of death; for no man could have lived long in that torrent of mud and water.
During the damp and rainy weather that accompanied the flood, our little son, John T., took the croup, and after several days of terrible suffering, died. This was our first life sorrow, and the blow was a heavy one.
The old fort and town having been washed away, a new town was laid out under the direction of Apostle Erastus Snow. I secured a city lot, and some farm land, and went to work again.
In the spring of 1862 I was called by the bishop of the Clara ward to drive an ox team to Omaha on the Missouri river, to get some cotton gins and spinning jennies for the benefit of the ward. Leaving my family camped in a tent, I responded to the call, driving my own team, and crossing the plains in John R. Murdock's train.
At Omaha I found my Brother Joseph W., who had charge of the Church immigration, lying at the point of death. He had been knocked down by lightning, and nearly crushed to death by baled wagon beds that were blown upon him during the terrible storm. Under the blessing of God, and with careful nursing, his life was preserved. For three weeks I aided in purchasing teams for the immigrants, and brought up the rear end of that year's emigration. After all our companies had started back, I received orders, by telegram from President Young, to buy more teams and wagons and to clear out the Church warehouse at Florence.
On the 17th of August I started for Salt Lake with twenty-two wagons and teams, but only ten teamsters; and we traveled one hundred miles before I got additional help. On Elm Creek, while on the move, we were charged by a stampeded herd of buffalo, estimated at three thousand head. It was with great difficulty that we turned them aside, and kept the train from being run over and trampled to pieces.
During the combat, one of my night guard was dismounted, and his mule, a fine animal, ran off with the buffalo. As soon as the train was safe, a young man by the name of Stewart, and I, followed the herd, stampeded them again, and riding into the heaving, rolling mass, secured the mule, and also succeeded in cutting out three oxen and a cow that we found running with them. Two of the oxen were large, fine fellows, and were very helpful in my team. Upon reaching Salt Lake City, I gave them to Bishop Hunter, as a donation to the Perpetual Emigration fund, and they were used for years on the Temple Block, to move the blocks of granite that were placed in the Temple walls.
Near Fort Laramie we overtook Captain William H. Dame's train of fifty wagons. As he was prostrate with mountain fever, we blended the trains, and I took charge of them until we reached Fort Bridger.
When I reached Salt Lake City, President Young gave me a beautiful Canadian mare, which the Church had furnished me to use on the plains; and he gave me, moreover, his blessing as a reward for my services.
At Provo, I found my wife Lydia with a sweet babe—Lydia Roseana—in her arms. I gave Mother Knight a cooking stove for her kindness to me and mine. Jesse, my wife Lydia's brother, wished to go to the Clara; so I employed him to drive my ox team, for which service I gave him a French pony, valued at seventy-five dollars. He was a noble boy, and I always loved him. It was late in the fall when I returned to the Clara with the machinery I started for. In six months' time I had traveled twenty-eight hundred miles with my four yoke of oxen.
I found Albina and babe well, but still living—and without a murmur—in a tent.
In 1863, I was called by Bishop Edward Bunker of the Clara Ward, to go to the states and help gather the poor. I had charge of ten teams from that ward. I drove my own team of four yoke of oxen. On the trip eastward we made part of Daniel D. McArthur's train. At Florence I was appointed captain of an independent Danish company of forty-four wagons. On the return trip we had several stampedes, in one of which two women and one man were killed. With that exception we were greatly prospered. I became very much attached to the Danish people. My brother, Lorenzo S., was with me, and was of great help to me. Jeremiah Stringham and family joined the company, and I learned to love him for his courage and fidelity.
Upon my return to the Clara, I found my two wives living in a one-room adobe house that my brother-in-law, Samuel Knight, had built for them. In the fore part of the winter, William R. Terry (my father-in-law) and I were requested by President Erastus Snow, to move to St. George. I promptly set about the work; putting up a small hewn-log house, then going to Pine Valley to make the shingles. While finishing the roof I received a letter from President Young, calling me on a second mission to the Sandwich Islands.
On March 20, 1864, I started to Salt Lake City to fill this mission. I had been notified that I would need to raise four hundred fifty dollars. I therefore sold my ox teams, and otherwise raised all the money I could before starting. Albina and children went with me to Draper, where I left her with her father. The weather was unusually stormy, and the roads were bad. On March 31st we camped on Pioneer creek, near Fillmore. For the first time in my life my children cried for bread, when I had none to give them.
Early in the morning, however, Sister McFate, a widow, came along and sold me five pounds of flour. At Round Valley brethren were owing me twenty-five bushels of wheat; but I could not get a bushel, nor a dollar in cash. Bishop Jesse Martin came to my rescue and generously helped me out of his own pocket.
April 4, 1864, I stayed over night with Bishop William McBride, of Santaquin. In the evening a heavy snow storm swept over the place; and while we were in his home at supper, a pair of valuable Navajo blankets were stolen from my wagon.
I immediately got out a search warrant, and early next morning, with the constable, commenced search. Learning that a man had left town before daylight, we followed him through Payson to Spanish Fork, where we caught him with the blankets. He was tried, convicted, and fined ninety dollars.
On Sunday, April 10, 1864, I reached Battle Creek, and visited my brother-in-law, William Frampton. In the night my horses got out of the stable and strayed off. I hunted four days for them, then gave them up. Our friends took us to the city.
On Friday, April 22, 1864, forty-six missionaries met in the historian's office and were set apart for their respective missions.
Apostle Wilford Woodruff blessed me as follows: "Brother John R. Young, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by virtue of the Holy Priesthood, we lay our hands upon your head and set you apart unto the mission whereunto you have been called by the servants of our God; to lift up your warning voice, to preach the Gospel to the children of men.
"We say, go in peace, bearing precious seed; go trusting in God. Call upon Him day by day and night by night. Follow the dictates of the Holy Spirit in this ministry and mission; and inasmuch as you will do this, the blessings of the heavens will rest upon you. And you shall rejoice before the Most High, because of the blessing that will be given unto you in this mission, in bearing the responsibility with your brethren in laboring to build up the kingdom of God, to warn the nations of the earth, to search out the honest in heart wherever you may be sent, to gather the people to Zion. We dedicate you unto God, and set you apart for this great and glorious mission.
"You shall go forth in peace and be preserved upon the land and upon the water. While the land is full of danger, and these dangers will increase, trust in the Lord, and all will be well with you. You shall do a good work, and bring many souls into the Kingdom of God; and you shall increase in wisdom and the gifts of God.
"When your mission is ended you shall return in peace and joy to your family and friends. We seal upon you every blessing you can desire in righteousness, and ask our Heavenly Father to preserve you, to give his angels charge concerning you, and enable you to do much good in your day and generation. All these blessings, together with all you may need and require, we confer upon you in the name of the Lord. Jesus Christ. Amen."
Elder Benjamin Cluff was set apart to be my companion. Brothers Abram Hatch, John T. Caine, F. A. Mitchell, Richard White, and Uncle Brigham were liberal in helping me on this mission.