The first Sunday after my arrival at Far West I was called upon to preach to the Saints, which I endeavored to do, although I was scarcely able to stand. I related many things respecting my mission and travels, which were gladly received by the brethren, whose hearts were cheered by the recital, while many of the Elders were stirred up to diligence, and expressed a great desire to accompany us when we should return to England.
Soon after my arrival, I had a lot given me by Bishop Partridge, and also sufficient timber to build me a house. While it was being erected, I lived in a place I built for my cow, about eleven feet square, and in which I could hardly stand upright. The brethren were remarkably kind and contributed to my necessities. One of them by the name of Charles Hubbard, made me a present of forty acres of land, another gave me a cow, etc.
When I had nearly finished my house, and after much labor, I was obliged to abandon it to the mob, who at that time commenced persecuting the Saints, driving off their cattle and destroying their property.
It will not be expected that I should recapitulate the circumstances which then transpired, which were of an extraordinary character, as numbers have written on the subject. Suffice it to say, that the Saints suffered privations, hunger, abuse, cold, famine, and many of them death. Yes, the blood of the Saints has stained the soil of Missouri, for which the King of kings and Lord of hosts will recompense upon her the punishment of her crimes.
From about the 6th of August until the 1st of November it was a continual scene of agitation and alarm, both by night and by day. The enemies of righteousness were determined to overthrow the Saints, and, regardless of all laws (which were trampled upon with impunity), they made every preparation, and used every means in their power to accomplish their unhallowed designs.
The Saints, tenacious of their liberties and sacred rights, resisted these unlawful designs, and with courage worthy of them, they guarded their families and their homes from the aggressions of the mob, but not without the loss of several lives, among whom was my greatly esteemed and much lamented friend, Elder David W. Patten, who fell a sacrifice to the fell spirit of persecution, and a martyr to the cause of truth. The circumstances of his death I will briefly relate:
It being ascertained that a mob had collected on Crooked River, in the County of Caldwell, a company of sixty or seventy persons immediately volunteered from Far West to watch their movements and repel their attacks, and chose Elder Patten for their commander. They commenced their march about midnight and came up to the mob very early next morning, and as soon as the brethren approached near to them, they were fired upon, when Captain Patten received a shot which proved fatal. The mob after firing ran away. Several others of the brethren were wounded at the same time, some of whom afterwards died.
Immediately on receiving the intelligence that Brother Patten was wounded, I hastened to see him. When I arrived he appeared to be in great pain, but still was glad to see me. He was conveyed about four miles to the house of Brother Winchester. During his removal his sufferings were so excruciating, that he frequently desired us to lay him down that he might die. But being desirous to get him out of the reach of the mob and among friends, we prevailed upon him to let us convey him there.
He lived about an hour after his arrival, and was perfectly sensible and collected until he breathed his last. He had medical assistance, yet his wound was such that there was no hope entertained of his recovery. This he was perfectly aware of. In this situation, while the shades of time were lowering and eternity with all its realities was opening to his view, he bore a strong testimony to the truth of the work of the Lord and the religion he had espoused.
The principles of the gospel which were so precious to him before, were honorably maintained in nature's final hour, and afforded him that support and consolation at the time of his departure which deprived death of its sting and its horror.