I started out with a small flour sack over my shoulder, containing all my earthly possessions, and these consisted of the following articles of clothing: one old-fashioned coat, of the claw-hammer pattern, one checkered gingham coat and a pair of pants (home-made and colored with walnut bark). The legs of the pants were about five inches too long, and proportionately large in other parts.
The suit I wore was not as good as the one described, and consisted of a hickory shirt, white ducking pants (eight inches too short), a pair of shoes but no stockings, and an old relic of a white hat, with a small rim.
I remained on the square, alone, as long as I dared, watching Spicer's outfit moving down the State Road.
I kept hoping that Robison would soon appear, according to promise, but, as he failed to do so, I shouldered my sack and started out in search of my father.
I reached East Temple Street, but dared not speak to any one, and, instead of going on the sidewalk, I walked up the middle of the street.
Such an odd-looking genius as I appeared, of course, caused everybody to gaze at me.
I kept looking warily over my shoulders, as I supposed everybody was anxious to catch me. I did not inquire for Heber C. Kimball until I arrived opposite the Tithing Office, when I encountered a man named Benjamin Hampton (a gate keeper), who eyed me with suspicion, as if he suspected that I was a desperado or a lunatic.
I ventured to ask him where Heber C. Kimball lived, but he gave me no satisfaction; in fact he would not even acknowledge that he knew such a man. This caused me to give vent to an exclamation that was more expressive than elegant, after which I continued my journey up the street till I crossed City Creek.
There I ventured to call at a house, and, concluding that Heber C. Kimball did not live in that vicinity, I asked for Charles Kimball.
The lady to whom I addressed myself proved to be his wife, and she replied that her husband was at his father's barn a short distance away.