His education was obtained from his mother who early taught him, in the tent, in the camp, on the prairie, to read from the Bible. He has had no other, save that sterner education gathered from the practical pages of life. But his opportunities in later years have not gone unused, and there are few college-bred men who delight more in books than Joseph. He is, too, a fair judge of the manner and matter of books. His leisure for reading is limited, owing to his constant employment in the affairs of the Church; but he loves to read books of history, philosophy, science; and has specially delighted in such authors as Seiss and Samuel Smiles, who may be said to be his favorites. He is fond of music, of which, though not a judge, he is a great lover, especially enjoying the music of the human voice.
In 1852 his mother died, leaving him an orphan at the age of fourteen. When fifteen years of age, he, with other young men, was called on his first mission to the Sandwich Islands. The incidents of the journey to the coast by horses, his work in the mountains at a shingle mill for means to proceed, and the embarkment and journey on the Vaquero for the islands, are sufficient for a long chapter in themselves; while his labors in the Maui conference, under President F. A. Hammond, his efforts to learn the language in the district of Kula, his attack of sickness, the most severe of his life, caused by the Panama fever, and his other labors and varied, trying experiences while there, would fill a volume. He says, "Of the many gifts of the Spirit which were manifest through my administration, next to my acquirements of the language, the most prominent was perhaps the gift of healing, and by the power of God the casting out of evil spirits, which frequently occurred."
One incident shows how the Lord is with his servants: Joseph was studying the language, being alone with a native family in Wailuku. One night, while he sat by a dismal light poring over his books in one corner of the room where dwelt a native and his wife, the woman was suddenly possessed; she arose and looking toward Joseph made the most fearful noises and gestures, accompanied by terrible physical contortions. Her husband came on his bended knees and crouched beside him, frightened to trembling. The fear that our young missionary felt under those circumstances was something indescribable, but presently it all left him, and he stood up facing the maniac woman, exclaiming: "In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I rebuke you." Like a flash, the woman fell to the floor like one dead. The husband went to ascertain if she were alive, and pronounced her dead. Then he returned, and set up a perfect howl, which Joseph likewise rebuked. What should Joseph do? His first impression was to get away from the horrid surrounding, but upon reflection he decided that such action would not be wise. His feelings were indescribable, but having rebuked the evil, it was subdued, peace was restored, and he proceeded again with his studies. These are the class of experiences that bring a lone missionary, young as he was, close to the Lord.
After his release, and while returning from the mission in Hawaii, this incident occurred: At Honolulu he went on board the barque Yankee, on October 6, 1857, and with a company of elders landed in San Francisco, about the end of the month. With Edward Partridge, he went down the coast to Santa Cruz County, Cal., and from thence with a company of Saints, under Captain Charles W. Wandell, southward to the Mojave river, where he and others left the company and made a visit to San Bernardino on their way to the Salt Lake Valley. It must be said that the feeling against the "Mormons," first, on account of the exaggerated reports of the Mountain Meadows massacre, and secondly, because of the coming of Johnston's army to Utah, was exceedingly bitter on the coast. As an illustration: While they were in Los Angeles, a man, William Wall by name, came near being hung because he had confessed he was a "Mormon." A mob of men had passed sentence on him, and had prepared every detail to hang him. It was only through the wise counsel of a man among them, whose better judgment prevailed, that he was not hung. This man pointed out to the mob that here was a man who had not been near Utah when the massacre took place, a man who had no sympathy with it, who could in no way be counted as a criminal. Why should he suffer? And so Wall was finally discharged and given time to get out of the country. It was under such conditions, and such prevailing sentiment, that President Smith, then a lad of nineteen, found himself on his journey home, and on his trip to San Bernardino.
With another man, and a mail carrier, he took passage in a mail wagon. They traveled all night, and at daylight stopped near a ranch for breakfast. The passenger and the mail carrier began to prepare breakfast, while Joseph went a short distance from camp to look after the horses. Just while the carrier was frying eggs, a wagon load of drunken men from Monte came in view, on their road to San Bernardino to kill the "Mormons," as they boasted.
The oaths and foul language which they uttered, between their shooting, and the swinging of their pistols, were almost indescribable and unendurable. Only the West in its palmiest frontier days could produce anything like its equal. They were all cursing the "Mormons," and uttering boasts of what they would do when they met them. They got out at the ranch, and one of them, tumbling around, caught sight of the mail wagon, and made his way towards it. The passenger and the mail carrier, fearing for their safety, had retired behind the chaparral, leaving all the baggage and supplies, including the frying eggs, exposed and unprotected.
Just as the drunken man approached, President Smith came in view on his way to the camp, too late to hide, for he had been seen. The ruffian was swinging his weapon, and uttering the most blood-curdling oaths and threats ever heard against the "Mormons." "I dared not run," says President Smith, "though I trembled for fear which I dared not show. I therefore walked right up to the camp fire and arrived there just a minute or two before the drunken desperado, who came directly toward me, and, swinging his revolver in my face, with an oath cried out: 'Are you a —— —— —— "Mormon?"'"
President Smith looked him straight in the eyes, and answered with emphasis: "Yes, sir'ee; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through."
The desperado's arms both dropped by his sides, as if paralyzed, his pistol in one hand, and he said in a subdued and maudlin voice, offering his hand: "Well, you are the —— —— pleasantest man I ever met! Shake. I am glad to see a fellow stand for his convictions." Then he turned and made his way to the ranch house. Later in the day, on seeing President Smith, he only pulled his slouch hat over his eyes, and said not a word.
In 1858, Joseph F. Smith joined the militia which intercepted Johnston's army, serving until the close of hostilities, under Colonel Thomas Callister. He was later chaplain of Colonel Heber C. Kimball's regiment, with the rank of captain. He took part in many Indian expeditions, and was in every sense a minute man in the Utah militia.