On Monday, January 7, 1878, we left Bristol, passing in view of Clifton, and over the suspension bridge, which is two hundred forty-five feet high, above high water, twenty-five feet wide, and four hundred feet long. We also passed a fine park, and saw therein a large herd of fallow deer. How beautiful they looked!
Walking to Nailsea, ten miles, we visited with a family not in the Church; then talked till midnight with Brother W——- and Father Miller. The latter is eighty-five, yet bright and strong in mind and memory. These good people slept by the fire in the big arm chairs while President Jacobs and I occupied the poor little bed in the garret.
On the 10th, I left Brother Jacobs, by his request, and visited Plymouth. It is a city of beauty, wealth, and sin. The branch here was in a sad condition. I lodged with Samuel Norman, who had kept "bach" during the last fifteen years. He was kind to me, but his home was a little garret four stories high. The one little window that gave us air overlooked the Plymouth Starch Works' back yard, a filthy, stinking hole; and the room literally swarmed with rats and mice, of which, like any woman, I am in mortal terror. Here I lived two weeks on one meal a day, while visiting the Saints as a teacher.
Having got out hand bills and placarded the city, I had an open-air discussion with the city post-master. I also attended a Methodist revival meeting, where a minister invited me to pray. Among other things, I thanked the Lord for having raised up the Prophet Joseph Smith. This advertised my coming meeting better than my hand bills had done. Accordingly, on Sunday, January 13th, I preached to a large and attentive congregation, mostly strangers.
After meeting I wrote "Early Recollections of Apostle Joseph F. Smith," who is now presiding over the British Mission.
I knew Joseph F. Smith, in life's rosy morn.
When herding cows, and plowing corn;
And though he worked early and late,
He never murmured at his fate;
But smiled to think that his strong arm
Brought wheat and corn to his mothers' barn.His first mark made, I remember well,
'Twas when he flogged Philander Bell;
A champion then for innocence and youth,
As he is now for "liberty and truth."
If plain his speech, and strong in boyish strife,
I doubt if he could mend the history of his life!The years of trial on Hawaii's land
Were more than wiser heads would stand,
Poi, paakai, poverty and shame,
Were all endured, for the blessed Savior's name.
The crime, and filth, and ulcerated sores
Opened to view, bleeding at every pore;
Tried the metal, proved one's pride,
Then was the day of choosing sides;
Then was the hour to begin, and he
Pulled off his coat, and waded in.
We need not urge him to improve,
He seeks, as Joseph did, light from above;
And God has given strength to Hyrum's son,
Speeding him, on the race so well begun.
For unto him a charge is truly given,
To lead erring men from sin to heaven,
To realms of glory, where truth divine,
Enlightens life, with joy sublime;
But I leave to pens abler than mine
To paint the beauties of that heavenly clime.I choose to feast on more substantial food;
One to be great, must first be truly good.
The precious clouds that bless our vales with rain,
Descend from lofty peaks, and kiss the plain.
So God, Himself, in plainness said to man—
"Blessed are the meek," "I am the Great I am,"
And while His voice echoed from Sinai's peak,
He talked with Moses "the meekest of the meek;"
Then look to Christ, and note the key-words given
To lead men back to God—and heaven.Brother, nobly and well thou hast begun—
Now "Hold the Fort," "until the victory's won;"
And when the smoke and din of war is past,
Your works, and name, on history's page will last.
On Wednesday, January 16, 1878, I baptized Miss Elizabeth Short, and told her I hoped her journey with the Saints would not be like her name; but rather, would be long and pleasant. On Friday following, I visited the Plymouth and Davenport cemetery. It is the largest burying place that I had ever seen. It is laid off in good order, and ornamented with trees, shrubs, and flowers—a lovely place in which to rest. That day I wrote to President John Taylor:
"Dear Brother, I take the liberty of writing a few lines to you, and of sending my letter by the hand of my father. I do not think you will remember me, although I was born and brought up with the Saints, and have known you since 1844.
"In 1854, I went on a mission to the Sandwich Islands, you having set me apart for the mission. Soon after returning, I married and moved to southern Utah (Dixie), where my family still resides. In my heart I have desired to build up Zion, and to that end I have labored for the kingdom of God, and the gathering of Israel.
"The object of writing is not, however, to relate what I have done, but to ask a favor in behalf of some of my brethren. My labors since last June have given me a good opportunity of becoming acquainted with the Saints of the Welsh and Bristol conferences; and I wish to present to you a few names of Saints whom I feel to recommend as being worthy of assistance in emigrating.