A Letter to my Son.--An Enquirer Answered.--The Sinking of the
Euridice.--Four Hundred Men Perish.--Letters from Home.--Two Splendid
Dreams.
"Silas S. Young: My dear son: Your very neat letter of February 2nd
came safely to hand, and I was pleased to have you write to me.
"I have recently been to Crew Kerne, a noted pleasure resort and while
there, witnessed the Somerset steeple-chase races. I will try to tell
you something about them. To begin with, I must tell you that England,
and Wales, so far as I have seen, are hilly countries; the hollows
abounding in creeks, and springs--and such beautiful clear, soft water;
while the ridges and table lands are covered with forests of pine, oak,
beach, and other varieties of timber. The tillable lands are generally
drained; and the steep hills are cultivated, as well as the level
plains.
"But farms in England are mostly cut up into small fields. The fences,
which are mainly ditches and hedges, are crooked and irregular; often
leaving the plow lands in triangle, or flatiron shape. With this
explanation, I will now come to the race course.
"The grandstand, a glass-roofed shed with raised seats capable of
seating a thousand persons, was situated on the east side of a glade,
one-half mile wide, and commanding a good view of the same. A circular
track, eight rods wide, and bounded on each side with red flags, was
marked off a mile and a half long. This track crossed eight hedges, one
deep creek and hedge combined, the object evidently being to select as
difficult and dangerous a track as possible.
"The points to be tested were strength, speed, and activity in the
horses; and nerve, skill, and horsemanship in the riders. They were
required to run twice around the track; making a three mile run. The
most difficult leap was a hedge six feet high, four feet wide on top,
with a deep three-foot ditch on the opposite side. This leap had to be
taken on an up-hill run, which made it hard work.
"But the part of the race that attracted the most attention was leaping
the creek. This was ten feet wide and eight feet deep; but the water
was partially dammed, causing an overflow of four feet on the farther
side. The hedge on the approaching side was five feet wide and four
feet high; making in all, twenty feet to be leaped.
"In the race, twelve horses started. A mare fell at the up-hill hedge,
and broke her leg; the rider was thrown and so badly hurt, that he had
to be taken away in the hospital cab. A horse fell in the creek, and
the rider was nearly drowned. Two bay mares, the winners, and such
beauties, went twice around the track, leaping the creek, twenty-two
feet, neck and neck. It was the prettiest running that I have ever seen.
"Be a good boy, and write again."
Friday, March 22nd, I spent the day posting the conference books. The
next day President Jacobs came from Trowbridge. He is in good health
and spirits, and working hard. I also received the following letter
from my father, dated Salt Lake City, February 17, 1878:
"My dear son, I should be glad if I were in a condition to send for
the Saints you so much desire to emigrate; but it is not in my power.
Yesterday I went to see your Uncle Phineas. It was his seventy-ninth
birthday, Feb. 16, 1878. He is quite smart; gets up early mornings,
does his own chores, and often walks up into town, two and one-half
miles. Uncle Joseph is also well, and full of faith. He is eighty-one
years old.
"Well, Johnny, hold on, and never give up until the battle is won. We
shall all be glad to meet you when you come home. The family all join
me in love. May God bless you, is the prayer of your father, Lorenzo D.
Young."
Monday, March 25, 1878. As several of the Welsh Saints had written
asking me to spend a Sabbath with them, I got leave of a week's absence
from President Jacobs and crossed the Bristol channel on the steamer
Wye. I visited Brother Harris at Cardiff, and held meeting. Wednesday,
the 27th, I also visited D. R. Gill. That day a collier was killed
by the falling of a stone in a mine where several of the Saints are
working. Poor fellows, spending their lives toiling down in the dark,
foul pits, with blocks of death hanging over their heads! Hundreds die
yearly, as this man died.
In the morning the goodby is cheerfully spoken, for no shadow of death
looms forward as a warning; at sunset the block has fallen, and the
dying man is borne by his comrades to the heart-broken wife. The next
day he is buried, and soon forgotten by all save those to whom his
strong arm brought daily bread.
On the 28th I visited Brother Jenkin Thomas, A. J. Jones, and Brother
Edwin Street. The latter is still confined to his bed, suffering from
the effects of the terrible bruises he received in a coal pit two
years, ago; but he keeps in good spirits and is firm in the faith. I
held meeting in his house, that he might hear the service. The room was
crowded, many strangers being present.
On Monday, the 30th, I visited Richard Wadley, gentleman, on his farm
twelve miles from Cardiff, to help him in his work. I plowed while he
sowed grain. This pleased him so much that he hitched his "cob" into
the cart and drove me to his home in Cardiff. I spent the evening with
the family, preaching the Gospel to them. Under this date, I wrote to
an enquirer, not in the Church:
"I know the idea generally prevails, that a man can love but one
wife at a time; but a careful reading of the word of God forces the
conviction that the idea is wrong; and my own experience confirms this
view. I find in the scriptures of divine truth, that we are commanded
to love the Lord with all our heart, and to love our neighbor as
ourselves; what a terrible tax to place upon a man who can only love
one wife! I am thankful to say that I have learned to govern love by
principle; and I can truly say, that the bright and intelligent sons
and daughters born to me by different wives, are alike beloved, and
dear to me."
On Wednesday, April 3, 1878, I returned to Bristol, and received the
following letter from my wife Lydia:
"Dear Husband: The day's work is done, the children are sweetly
sleeping, and the nine o'clock bugle (curfew) is sounding, 'Hard times,
come again no more!'
"If I knew hard times would come no more to you, while you are in that
land of poverty and wretchedness, I should be very thankful. I have
been treated with much kindness by the brethren and sisters here in
Orderville. Neither I, nor mine, have suffered for food or clothing.
"I am striving diligently to overcome selfishness, and I am gaining
ground a little. I feel that if there are any more needy than I am, who
are laboring faithfully in the order, let them be served first.
"I cannot accomplish as much work as I should like to, but I do all
that I can. I am making hats, and have charge of the hat department. My
babe is as nice a boy as anybody ever had; and the Lord knows it is my
desire to bring him up in such a way that he will be an honor to his
parents. Vilate is very delicate; I do not feel at all easy about her,
but I do hope and pray that she will be spared to us.
"May the blessings of the Lord be with you, is the prayer of your
affectionate wife, Lydia K. Young."
April 5th was a cold, windy day. I went to Sister Burris's, Little Dean
Hill, forty miles, and found the family well. I wrote Elder Samuel
Leigh, of Cedar City, as follows:
"Dear friend, I have just returned from a short visit to Wales, our old
field of labor, and feel to write a few lines to you.
"I thought that England would go to war with Russia but as yet the Lion
and the Bear are content to watch the bone, and snarl and growl at each
other. However, the war feeling is becoming more intense and bitter,
and it is hard to say what a day may bring forth.
"In Wales, there is still much suffering--worse a great deal than when
you were here. You will doubtless remember Brother Street of Treorky,
who was so badly crushed in the coal pit. He is still suffering, yet
clinging to life and full of faith, else he would have been dead long
ago. At one time, his wounds had nearly closed; but they opened again,
and several pieces of the backbone came out. The doctors can do nothing
for him; and our Christian friends call long and loud for a miracle,
and because he is not healed, they harden their hearts and persecute
the Saints; forgetting that John did no miracles, yet a greater prophet
never lived."
One of the most melancholy events of the season was the sinking of
Her Majesty's war training-ship, Euridice. She was returning from a
six months' training trip, having on board four hundred picked young
officers and men. In forty minutes more she would have been at anchor
in Portsmouth. Thousands of friends had assembled on the pier to give
them welcome; when a sudden squall, accompanied with snow, swept from
the headlands across the bay, striking the ship. In a few minutes the
storm was past; but the ship was nowhere to be seen. The hand of death,
as it were, had smitten her; and of the four hundred souls on board,
all perished but two.
On Sunday, April 7, 1878, I attended a baptist meeting in the baptist
chapel, the Rev. Mr. Griffiths preaching an able discourse on baptism
by immersion. After the services he put on a rubber water-proof suit,
and stepping into a font filled with warm water, baptized eight
persons; using these words: "Upon your profession of faith in Christ
Jesus, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost. Amen."
At the close of the service, I went to the pulpit and introduced
myself, and asked the privilege of preaching in the chapel. The
ministers refused. I then told the people I was an Elder from Utah, and
that I would preach that afternoon at Mr. Burris's, and my meeting was
well attended by Saints and strangers.
On Monday, April 8, 1878, I walked to Clifford Mesne, twelve miles, and
found Brother Wadley and family well. My wife wrote:
"Orderville, February 20, 1878. Dear Husband: Your favor of January
18th came today. I can truly say it is a kind and good letter. It gives
me new courage, and I feel more determined to press on, in the straight
and narrow path.
"Several things have happened today, causing me to feel well: your
letter and a good one from father, and Hattie's new dress. She is much
pleased; but poor little Mary--her lips are put up, and tears are in
her eyes. I tell her it will be her turn next.
"Frank's cough is still very bad. Last, week we received the parcel you
sent by Brother Leigh. William is so pleased with his knife. He carries
it in his pocket in the day time, and sleeps with it in his hand at
night.
"The children are having a dance tonight. Roy and Hattie have gone.
They took hold of hands, and walked off together so kindly. They seem
to think a great deal of each other, and I am proud to see them.
"You have been gone ten months, and my babe is walking around, by
holding on to the chairs. He is so intelligent, and has such bright
blue eyes. As for teaching my children to pray, I have always done so,
since they were old enough to talk, and I generally pray with them
night and morning.
"I am trying to do right, and I intend to improve as fast as I can in
all good things. I am thankful that I am here in Orderville. I have
never felt discouraged. Last night I dreamed that you and father both
came home. I thought you had been gone just eleven months. As ever,
your wife, Tamar B. Young."
April 11, 1878, from my journal: Last night I stayed with Brother and
Sister Thomas Newman. As they had but one bed, I sat up all night in a
wooden-bottomed chair; but I got some sleep, and dreamed that I saw an
elderly woman apparently lost in the woods--and a person told me to go
and get her, for she was ready to go to Zion.
In the morning I asked Sister Alice Newman if there was an aged sister
in the Church living in the branch that I had not seen. She said,
"Mother Jaynes lives about six miles from here, in an out-of-the-way
place that no Elder has visited for the past four years." "Well,"
said I, "I want you to tell me the way, as I must see her and get her
emigration money."
This amused Sister Newman: for Sister Jaynes had been living on the
parish for over twenty years. It was a dark, rainy day; but Sister
Newman put on her cloak and walked across the fields with me. We found
the old lady gathering bits of sticks from the hedge. I asked her to
go to the house, make a good fire, and give us some refreshments. When
we had warmed and rested, I told her I had come to get her emigration
money.
She said, "The Lord has sent you, for no mortal knows that I have any
money." She went into a back room, and soon returned with her apron
full of gold, emptied it on to the table, and told me to do as I
pleased with it. I counted out her emigration money, and sent it to the
Liverpool office; and when I came home, I brought her with me--to Echo
on the Weber, where her friends were waiting for her.
Having returned with Sister Alice, I then walked two miles to the
top of Malvern Hill, knelt down and gave thanks to the Lord for the
revelations of His Spirit to me; a Spirit that guides me so often into
unknown paths.