"I never felt the slightest fear for Briant. In this matter I knew that he was led by a good Spirit, and I trusted him implicitly and without requiring him to account for his conduct. He seemed in all matters of goodness to be easily impressed; but evil appeared, if not incomprehensible, at least entirely unattractive to him."
The teacher of the Preceptor Class which Briant attended was Brother Austin C. Brown; he says that the questions which Briant propounded to him occasioned great marvel in his mind. The clearness with which the young boy spoke of the principles of the gospel, the perfect understanding which he seemed to gain, almost intuitively, of the truth, were as surprising as they were gratifying. In other matters the boy was very precocious. He attended the academic department of the Central School of Ogden, and was the youngest, though not the last, in his class. He early developed a talent for drawing and painting, and his parents and friends are now in possession of some exquisite little gems produced by him.
Before he received the Priesthood he was a constant attendant upon the meetings of his young brethren, the Deacons; and he anxiously awaited the time when he could be deemed of sufficient age and worth to receive an ordination to this calling. He had the highest reverence for the Priesthood, and he believed most firmly in the power of the gospel. Whenever he was in pain or illness, his sole desire was for the blessing of his father or other Elders of the Church. Several times he was instantly healed from infirmities under the administration of the servants of God.
At home he was perpetual sunshine. From the hour that he was 10 years old he never permitted his father to attend to any of the labors in the garden or with the stock which his young hands could perform. He was so kind to the horse and the cow, and the other domestic animals, that they learned to know him and to love him perfectly. Even the cat would follow him through the garden, and run to rub her head against his leg. The parrot, when released from its cage, would follow him about the house like a dog. It would mount to his shoulder and kiss his cheeks or lips daintily and tenderly; while with everybody else it showed the crossness for which parrots are proverbial, biting, scolding and clawing at the slightest attempt at familiarity.
Briant kept many pigeons—often as many as fifty at one time. They knew him and flocked about him fearlessly. He gave many of them away to his young friends, but never without exacting a promise from the boys that they would be kind to the birds and would not sell them to anyone who would abuse them. He had a great horror of the cruelty of pigeon-shooting matches, and would not sell one of his doves for such a purpose under any circumstances, or for any amount of money. If strange boys came to him to buy pigeons, he invariably enquired for what purpose they were purchased. And unless the buyers would give him a faithful promise not to sell the birds for shooting-matches, he would not part with his pets.
Whenever he received money from the sale of pigeons, he carried it to his father, and offered it with the remark that he cared nothing for it, and wanted his father to use it for the best purpose. He had but one extravagance with money—and that was to give it to the poor. Not only would he part with his last dime for this purpose, but often he borrowed money from his relatives and friends to give to the needy.
About four years before Briant's death, his little brother, Jordan, died. The two had been inseparable—brothers in the fullest sense. They shared all their possessions equally; and one never felt content without the presence and happiness of the other. When Jordan passed from earth, Briant said to his father:
"I know that my dear little brother is happy and well; but I cannot help feeling lonesome."
He gathered up Jordan's share of the toys and books which had belonged to them, and put them sacredly away. To this hour they remain in the place and in the order where they were put by his loving little hands.
A few months before Briant was stricken he lost a favorite pigeon. It was a snow-white bird which had belonged to Jordan. When Briant found that it was surely gone he shed some tears, and said to his mother: