One day (it was July 23rd, 1864, and a grand celebration of Pioneer day was on the tapis) he drove down to the shop of James Lawson the blacksmith, to have some repairing done to his carriage, a long vehicle with seats on either side. He had about fifteen of his boys in the carriage, all urchins ranging from ten to thirteen years.
"James," said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "I have no shoes for these boys, and I'm going to have them out in the procession to-morrow in this carriage, so that their feet can't be seen."
Then, with a proud glance at his youthful progeny, he added: "There is a load of Elders; I have ordained them all myself."
He often took his children into his confidence, giving them practical lessons in the virtues he desired them to cultivate. His son David H. relates the following:
"One day President Young made a call upon father for $1,000., for some public purpose, and not having the ready cash, he was at a loss to know where to get it. At his suggestion we went down in the garden and bowed ourselves in prayer, father calling upon the Lord to direct him in the matter. We then arose and started down the street, and he remarked that the Lord would answer our prayer and direct him aright. When even with Godbe's corner, William Godbe came out of his store and told him that, in looking through his safe, he had come across about $1,000 in gold-dust, belonging to him, which his son Heber P. had left there for him some time before, though father until then knew nothing about it."
In the Spring of 1866 his son, Col. H. P. Kimball, was called into southern Utah at the head of a company of minute men, to aid in subduing the Indians in the Black Hawk War. His son David P. was also called, but having just returned from a mission to England, with his brother Charles, he was honorably released, and his younger brother, Solomon, sent in his stead. The evening before they started, Heber called their mother, Vilate, and her children into his room, and spent several hours with them, giving them much good counsel and explaining to them the relationship of the Lamanites, as a branch of the house of Israel, with the latter-day work, and the important part they were destined to play in this dispensation. He then blessed Heber and Solomon, and promised them in the name of the Lord that they should not see an Indian while they were gone.
This promise, though meant for their welfare, and, it may be added, for the welfare of the Lamanites as well, was quite a disappointment to the two brothers, who were anxious, not only to see the Indians, but to have a "brush" with them. Solomon had often heard of a fight which his brother William and others had had with the red men in Battle Creek Canyon, some years before, in which William had the horn of his saddle punctured by a bullet while ascending the ravine, thus narrowly escaping being wounded or killed. Solomon had seen the saddle, which had a romantic charm for him, and he now wanted to see the Indians. The remainder of the story we will give in his own words:
"We were gone ninety days and rode hundreds of miles, following the tracks of different bands of hostile Indians, and were close upon them a great many times. They were attacking settlements all around us, killing the settlers and driving off stock. At one time, after the Indians had made a raid on Round Valley (Scipio) killing one man and running off five hundred head of stock, Col. Kimball left a part of his command at Thistle Valley to hold the fort at that place, while he went to intercept the Indians on the Sevier River. We had gone but a few hours, when the Indians made a raid on the fort at Thistle Valley, running off all their horses, killing one of the party and wounding another.
"After our company returned home we were drawn up in line in front of the Court House, where President Young, my father, and others came down to see us. Father, looking at Heber and myself, whose clothing and countenances showed hard service, asked us if we had seen an Indian while we were gone. Our humiliating reply was, 'No.' He laughed and said, 'Didn't I tell you so?' and then added: 'I would rather have them kill you, than to have one of my sons shed their blood.'"
But a volume might be filled with incidents of like character in his experience, and then the half remain untold. Suffice this, at present, for his inner life and private family history.