The afternoon drew its slow length along. The four friends carried on a desultory conversation, in which Elder Richards remarked: "Brother Joseph, if it is necessary that you die in this matter, and if they will take me in your stead, I will suffer for you."

Other thoughts were passing through the mind of Elder Taylor. He regarded the whole thing as an outrage on their liberties and rights; and the mob proceedings under the forms of law a legal farce. As he contemplated these acts of injustice he broke out with—"Brother Joseph, if you will permit it, and say the word, I will have you out of this prison in five hours, if the jail has to come down to do it." His idea was to go to Nauvoo, collect a sufficient force of the brethren to liberate his friends. Joseph refused to sanction such a course.

The four friends were sitting in a large, square room in the prison, usually occupied by men imprisoned for the lighter offenses. The afternoon was warm and the spirits of the brethren extremely dull and depressed—did the shadow of their impending fate begin to fall upon them? Elder Taylor sang the following song, which had recently been introduced into Nauvoo. The tune is the one to which he sang it on that melancholy occasion:

Once when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered—not a word he spake!
Just perishing for want of bread;
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then;
For while I fed with eager haste
The crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on—
I ran and raised the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup;
Dipped, and returned it running o'er;
I drank, and never thirsted more.

'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter-hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad, and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest;
I laid him on my couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed;
I had myself a wound concealed;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next,—condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him 'mid shame and scorn.
My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill,
But the free spirit cried, "I will."

Then in a moment to my view,
The stranger darted from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name he named—
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall my memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto me."

Shortly Hyrum asked him to sing the song again, to which he replied:

"Brother Hyrum, I do not feel like singing."

"Oh, never mind; commence singing and you will get the spirit of it."

Soon after finishing the song the second time, as he was sitting at one of the front windows of the jail, he saw a number of men, with painted faces, rushing round the corner towards the stairs. The brethren must have seen this mob simultaneously, for as Elder Taylor started for the door to secure it, he found Hyrum Smith and Doctor Richards leaning against it to prevent its being opened, as the lock and latch were of little use. The mob reaching the landing in front of the door, and thinking it was locked, fired a shot through the key hole. Hyrum and Doctor Richards sprang back, when instantly another ball crashed through the panel of the door and struck Hyrum in the face; at the same instant a ball from the window facing the public square where the main body of the Carthage Greys was stationed, entered his back, and he fell exclaiming, "I am a dead man!" With an expression of deep sympathy in his face, Joseph bent over the prostrate body of the murdered man and exclaimed, "Oh! my poor, dear brother Hyrum!" Then instantly rising to his feet he drew the pistol Cyrus Wheelock had left, and with a quick, firm step, and a determined expression in his face he advanced to the door and snapped the pistol six successive times; only three of the loads, however, were discharged.[[1]]

While Joseph was firing the pistol Elder Taylor stood close behind him, and as soon as he discharged it and stepped back, Elder Taylor took his place next the door, and with a heavy walking stick—left there by Brother Markham—parried the guns as they were thrust through the doorway and discharged.