Ladies and gentlemen, one and all,
I welcome you to my father's hall.
For its delivery I was awarded a pocket-knife. Those entertainments produced a most desirable effect in promoting friendship and affability among the people. When eight years of age (a very cold day), I was baptized in the mill-race by Elder Neely, and confirmed by my father. In the following spring I had the pleasure of rendering useful service to a Brother Jones, who lived north of us. At that time the settlers were annoyed by a gang of horse thieves, composed of mountaineers; so much so that there was no safety for animals when not in use, except under lock and key. One evening, on entering one of my father's pastures, I saw two horses tied to a bunch of willows, and thinking that one or both belonged to the Bishop, I decided to take them to the owner; but the Bishop informed me they were not his, and they were secured for the night.
Early next morning, as I was driving cows to pasture, I saw a dark visaged man emerge from a thicket by the road side over which I had just passed, and, drawing a revolver from its scabbard, he inquired, in a gruff tone, if I knew the whereabouts of the two horses he had tied to a tree in the pasture. I told him the whole affair, as well as an eight-year old boy could, under the threatening circumstances. Then pointing to the caliber of his six-shooter, he said, "Unless you bring those horses back, I will put a bullet through you of that size." I was relieved when the interview closed, and lost no time in reaching home, where I learned that the owner of the horses had arrived from Salt Lake, where they were stolen from him. The officers were notified, the thief secured and justice meted to him, and I escaped the bullet.
In 1864 I had the honor of being ordained a member of the Fifty-eighth Quorum of Seventies; and soon after, at the re-organization of the militia, was called to act as standard-bearer in Colonel Loveland's staff; accompanied my father through the southern settlements, on one of President Young's tours, as far as Santa Clara.
In the spring of 1868, I was called, with others, to perform a journey to the States to bring a company of Saints across the plains. On our return we had a fearful encounter with Indians, who ran off fifty head of our stock, which, after several hairbreadth escapes, we succeeded in recapturing, and arrived home in safety.
During the autumn of 1868 and the following spring, I assisted in building the great trans-continental railway; and during the summer of 1869, studied in the University of Deseret, under Prof. J. R. Park.
In May, 1870, at a General Conference of the Church (held in May, awaiting President Young's return from St. George), by communication from my father, I was notified of my appointment as missionary to Europe, to come immediately to Salt Lake, to be set apart by the proper authorities for said mission. Not having the slightest previous intimation, I was taken by surprise, yet most gladly responded to the call; went to Salt Lake City, was set apart by my father and others, returned to Brigham City to bid adieu to friends and relatives, and within five days from the first announcement, I was on board the train en route for Great Britain.
On reaching Ogden I had the pleasure of meeting a goodly number of Elders destined to the same point; and in each other's society our five days' transit across the continent to New York was very pleasant. There we were detained one week, waiting for the steamer, which afforded a fine opportunity for sight-seeing, which was a genuine treat to those born and raised in the Great American Desert, beneath the towering cliffs, "crowned with eternal snows." Arriving at New York, I was not only surprised but almost bewildered by the confusing jargon of the cab drivers, hooting and wrangling to secure passengers for the hotels. Two of them had a serious confab about which was entitled to me, when I took my valise, engaged another cab and left them to fight it out.
On the twenty-fifth of May we embarked on the beautiful steamer Minnesota, and after an uneventful voyage of eleven days, landed in Liverpool, where we were met and cordially greeted by President A. Carrington, at Islington, for many years the headquarters of the European mission. I soon received an appointment as traveling Elder in the Manchester Conference, with President David Brinton. Being an entire stranger, entirely ignorant of the locations of branches and residences of the Saints, as my predecessor was about to make a farewell visit through the conference, I accompanied him on a general tour.
About this time the celebrated author, Charles Dickens, died, and I recollect a little incident in relation to his death, which occurred on the first evening after we started. While waiting refreshments in a hotel in Bolton, a gentleman stranger of fine presence, whom we afterwards learned was a highly educated, prominent journalist, entered the room where many people were seated, some in groups and others as wall flowers, when the strange man commenced to eulogize Mr. Dickens, giving an account of his death, the great loss the community would sustain by his demise; and in beautiful language and eloquent dramatic style, portrayed the great worth and superior abilities of the deceased, adding that it would have been better that a thousand Britons had died, than for that noble man to give up his life. Finally, striking his broad, intellectual forehead with the palm of his hand, he exclaimed as if his whole soul was filled with anguish: "What, O, what was God Almighty thinking of when he caused that great and noble man to die?" We concluded that, although the speaker was considered great among his fellows, he certainly must be out of joint where that expression originated.