A few days later, on the 5th of November, 1834, by vote of the branch of the Church at Adam-ondi-Ahman, Wilford Woodruff was ordained a priest by Simeon Carter who also ordained Stephen Winchester and Heman Hyde at the same meeting. He received his license and by appointment of Bishop Partridge was assigned to Arkansas and Tennessee. In eight days he left to perform his mission, to be one of the very foremost in introducing the gospel into the Southern States—a section of the Union where, since then, so many thousands have received the gospel and have been gathered to Zion. His faith had been great. The spirit of the Lord rested upon him and his prayers were promptly answered.
His stay in Missouri after his arrival there with Zion's Camp was not of long duration. The Saints had been driven from Jackson County and were busily occupied in building up new communities in other counties. He was then a young man without a family, and though actively engaged in every kind of work peculiar to the conditions of those times, he was free for almost any kind of service that might be required of him. The spirit of the man, however, was that of the missionary; and the spirit was so strong within him that he found satisfaction only when the opportunity came to give expression to his fellow-men of the testimony which had brought such consolation to his own life.
"The law of God to us in those days," says Wilford in his journal, "was to go without purse or scrip. Our journey lay through Jackson County, from which the Saints had just been driven, and it was dangerous for a Mormon to be found in that part of the state. We put some Books of Mormon and some clothing into our valises, strapped these on our backs, and started on foot. We crossed the ferry into Jackson County, and went through it. In some instances the Lord preserved us, as it were by miracle, from the mob. We dared not go to houses and get food, so we picked and ate raw corn, slept on the ground, and did any way we could until we got out of the county.
"We dared not preach while in that county, and we did little preaching in the state of Missouri. The first time I attempted to preach was on Sunday, in a tavern, in the early part of December, 1834. It was snowing at the time, and the room was full of people. As I commenced to speak, the landlord opened the door, and the snow blew on the people; when I inquired the object of having the door opened in a snowstorm, he informed me he wanted some light on the subject. I found that it was the custom of the country. How much good I did in that sermon I never knew, and probably never shall know until I meet that congregation in judgment.
"In the southern part of Missouri and the northern part of Arkansas, in 1834, there were very few inhabitants. We visited a place called Harmony Mission, on the Osage River, one of the most crooked rivers in the West. This mission was kept by a Presbyterian minister and his family. We arrived there on Sunday night at sunset. We had walked all day without anything to eat, and were very hungry and tired. Neither the minister nor his wife would give us anything to eat, or let us stay over night, because we were Mormons, and the only chance we had was to go twelve miles farther down the river, to an Osage Indian trading post kept by a Frenchman named Jereu; and the wicked priest who would not give us a piece of bread lied to us about the road, and sent us across the swamp, where we wallowed knee-deep in mud and water till ten o'clock at night, in trying to follow the crooked river. We then left the swamp and put out into the prairie, to lie in the grass for the night.
"When we got out of the swamp, we heard an Indian drumming on a tin pail and singing. It was very dark, but we traveled toward the noise, and when we drew near the Indian camp quite a number of large Indian dogs came out to meet us. They smelled us, but did not bark or bite. Soon we were surrounded by Osage Indians, and were kindly received by Mr. Jereu and his wife who was an Indian. She gave us an excellent supper and a good bed, which we were thankful for after the fatigue of the day.
"As I laid my head upon my pillow, I felt to thank God from the bottom of my heart for the exchange from the barbarous treatment of a civilized Presbyterian priest to the humane, kind, and generous treatment of the savage Osage Indians. May God reward them both according to their deserts!
"We arose in the morning, after a good night's rest. I was somewhat lame, from wading in the swamp the night before. We had a good breakfast. Mr. Jereu sent an Indian to see us across the river, and informed us that it was sixty miles to the nearest settlement of either white or red men.
"We were too bashful to ask for anything to take with us to eat; so we crossed the river and started on our day's journey of sixty miles without a morsel of food of any kind. We started about sunrise and crossed a thirty-mile prairie, apparently as level as a house floor, without shrub or water. We arrived at timber about two o'clock in the afternoon.
"As we approached the timber, a large black bear came out towards us. We were not afraid of him, for we were on the Lord's business, and had not mocked God's prophets as did the forty-two wicked children who said to Elisha, 'Go up thou bald head,' for which they were torn by bears. When the bear got within eight rods of us he sat on his haunches, looked at us a moment, and ran away; and we went on our way rejoicing.