There was a young woman, about eighteen years of age, of handsome form and features, in her stocking feet, her beautiful black hair hanging down over her shoulders in a confused mass. She was preaching what she called Mormonism, and warning the multitude to repent and be baptized, and escape the wrath of God. In front of her stood a young Methodist minister, to whom she directed her remarks.
He smiled at her.
Of a sudden she changed her tack, and belted him right and left for making light of what she said.
The next moment she confronted me, and shouted:
"You are a preacher of the true Church, and I love you!"
Thus saying, she sprang at me with open arms. I stretched forth my hand and rebuked the evil spirit that was in her, and commanded it to depart in the name of the Lord Jesus, by virtue of the holy Priesthood in me vested. At this rebuke she quailed, and turned away from me like a whipped child, left the crowd, and went home, ashamed of her conduct. This gave me confidence in God, and in Him I put my trust still more than I had ever done before.
It was now about sunset, and we had had no refreshments since morning. I arose and informed the multitude that we would preach at that place on the morrow at ten o'clock. A merchant by the name of Marshbanks invited us home with him, some of the leading men accompanying us.
They informed us that a couple of men, brothers, from west Tennessee, named William and Alfred Young, formerly members of the Baptist Church, had joined the Mormons, and had been there and preached; that they enjoyed spiritual gifts as the apostles anciently did, and had baptized the people into that faith, and ordained John Young, who was Receiver of the Land Office there, a preacher; that he had been an intelligent, well-educated man, but was now a fanatic; that their leading men were ruined and business prostrated, and all through that impostor, Joe Smith. They said he ought to be hanged before he did any more harm; that their settlement was being ruined and all business stopped; that if anyone would give John Young, or Mark Young, his father, who was formerly a Methodist class leader, his hand, or let either of them breathe in his face, he could not resist them, but would come under the influence and join them. I told them that I had been a member of this Church for a number of years and had never seen or heard of anything of this kind.
The next morning about daybreak those two fanatics, the Youngs, were at Marshbanks' house. They said they had had a glorious time through the night, and had made a number of converts. I began to reason with them from the Scriptures, but as soon as I came in contact with their folly they began to whistle and dance, and jumped on their horses and left.
Some time after, on our way to the chapel, my friend Marshbanks indulged in a great deal of abuse of the Prophet Joseph. He told me that I could not be heard among the fanatics at the chapel, and had better return to his house and hold a meeting there. I said to him: