CHAPTER I.

HELPFUL VISIONS.

THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF THE FAITH-PROMOTING SERIES.

Intended for the Instruction and Encouragement of Young Latter-day

Saints.

JUVENILE INSTRUCTOR OFFICE,

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH.

1887.

COMBINED FAITH-PROMOTING SERIES,

Nos. 1-5, $1.35,

Nos. 6-10, $1.25.

CONTENTS.

A TERRIBLE ORDEAL.

CHAPTER I.

Remarkable Spiritual Manifestations--Thrilling Experience of Elder

David P. Kimball, as Narrated by himself.

CHAPTER II.

Account of Patten Kimball and Others, Regarding the Search for and

Finding of his Father.

BRIANT S. STEVENS.

CHAPTER I.

Briant Stringham Stevens Becomes a Missionary to His Associates and

Brings Four Boys to Belief and Baptism--A Good Child who Passed Amidst

the Daily Temptations of Life Unscathed.

CHAPTER II.

Accidents to Briant--He is Ordained to the Priesthood--Patient

Endurance of His Sufferings--He is Blessed to be an Elder and then

Slumbers in Death.

CHAPTER III.

A "Helpful Vision" to Briant's Stricken Father--the Comforter Brings

the Peace which Passes All Understanding--The Funeral of the Little

Missionary--His Work Lives after Him.

FINDING COMFORT.

CHAPTER I.

Called to Australasia--The Modern Imitators of Job's Friends--Our

"Special Instruction" is to "Build up the Kingdom of God in those

Lands"--A Disappointment ends in a Blessing--Promises by an Apostle

which were Literally Fulfilled--We Reach Sydney, I am Separated From my

Companion.

CHAPTER II.

Labor which Brought Little Compensation--A Mysterious Call to

New Zealand--Attacked by an Evil Spirit--The Visitation Thrice

Repeated--Meeting the Brother of a Friend--On Board the _Wakatipu_

Bound for New Zealand.

CHAPTER III.

An Irreverent Company of Passengers--Sickness and a Horror of Life

Fall Upon Me--A "Helpful Vision"--"Only be True"--Invoking the

Name of Christ--A Jolly Singer and a Jolly Song--Landing at Port

Littleton--Strange Recognition of Brother Nordstrand--His Dream

Concerning Me.

CHAPTER IV.

Reason for my Sudden Call to Leave Sydney--The Little Old Lady of the

_Wakatipu_--She had Waited a Generation to Renew her Covenants--Another

"Helpful Vision"--A Mysterious Half-Sovereign--Saved from Death in a

Swift River.

CHAPTER V.

Some Old Members of the Church--The Spirit Prompts Promises to Them

which are Literally Fulfilled--Help from a Catholic Who is Suddenly

Converted and Who as Suddenly Apostatizes--A Spontaneous Prophecy--The

Journey Home--A Careful Observer--Safe in Zion.

TRAITORS.

Solemn Warnings--A Traitor can Never be Anything but

Despicable--Examples of the Past.

PREFACE.

The very encouraging reports we are constantly receiving from various

parts of the country concerning the vast amount of good accomplished by

these small publications, induces us to issue the fourteenth book, with

the sincere hope that it may not be less interesting or instructive

than those which have preceded it.

The Visions here recorded will again prove that truth is stranger than

fiction, and we trust that a perusal of these manifestations will lead

our young people to seek for the guidance of the Lord in all things,

and make Him their constant friend. The article on traitors is very

appropriate reading matter for the present season, and will, it is

hoped, cause everyone to look upon the men of this class with the

contempt they so justly merit, and sustain everyone in shunning as they

would poison, any traitorous act.

Our great desire is that this little book may assist in the education

and elevation of the young people and others who may peruse it.

THE PUBLISHERS.

A TERRIBLE ORDEAL.

BY O. F. WHITNEY.

CHAPTER I.

REMARKABLE SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATIONS--THRILLING EXPERIENCE OF ELDER

DAVID P. KIMBALL, AS NARRATED BY HIMSELF.

The following narrative of the experience of the late David Patten

Kimball, who was lost on the Salt River desert, Arizona, in the latter

part of November, 1881, is taken by permission from a letter written

by him to his sister, Helen Mar Whitney, of this city, on the 8th of

January, 1882. Brother Kimball was then a resident of Jonesville,

or Lehi, three miles from Mesa, where the letter was written. The

events described took place while he was returning home from a trip to

Prescott, the capital of that Territory.

The experience related was of so remarkable a character as to meet with

dubiety on the part of some, especially those inclined to be skeptical

regarding spiritual manifestations. Some went so far as to ascribe the

sights and scenes through which the narrator claimed to have passed,

to the fevered fancy of a mind disordered by strong drink. That such

should have been supposed, particularly by those who are ignorant of

spiritual things, is not surprising, when it is remembered that even

the Apostles of Christ, on the day of Pentecost, were accused of being

"drunken with new wine," when the power of the Spirit fell upon them

and they "spake with tongues and prophesied."

What is here presented is the plain and simple testimony of an honest

man, who adhered to it till the day of his death, which occurred within

two years from the date of his letter, and was in literal fulfillment

of certain things which he said were shown him in vision, and of which

he frequently testified while living.

For the benefit of such as may not have known Brother David P. Kimball,

we will state that he was the fourth son of the late President Heber C.

Kimball, whose wonderful encounter with evil spirits, on the opening

of the British Mission in 1837, has become a matter of Church history.

Here is the excerpt from David's letter:

"On the 4th of November, I took a very severe cold in a snow storm at

Prescott, being clad in light clothing, which brought on pneumonia

or lung fever. I resorted to Jamaica ginger and pepper tea to obtain

relief and keep up my strength till I could reach home and receive

proper care. On the 13th I camped in a canyon ten miles west of

Prescott, my son Patten being with me. We had a team of eight horses

and two wagons. That night I suffered more than death. The next night

we camped at Mr. McIntyre's, about twenty miles farther on. I stopped

there two nights and one day, during which time I took nothing to drink

but pepper tea. On the 16th we drove to Black's ranch, twenty-eight

miles nearer home, and were very comfortably located in Mr. Black's

house.

"About 11 p. m., I awoke and to my surprise saw some six or eight men

standing around my bed. I had no dread of them but felt that they were

my friends. At the same time I heard a voice which seemed to come from

an eight square (octagon) clock on the opposite side of the house.

It commenced talking and blackguarding, which drew my attention,

when I was told to pay no attention to it. At this point I heard the

most beautiful singing I ever listened to in all my life. These were

the words, repeated three times by a choir: 'God bless Brother David

Kimball.' I at once distinguished among them the voice of my second

wife, Julia Merrill, who in life was a good singer. This, of course,

astonished me. Just then my father commenced talking to me, the voice

seeming to come from a long distance. He commenced by telling me of

his associations with President Young, the Prophet Joseph, and others

in the spirit world, then enquired about his children, and seemed to

regret that his family were so scattered, and said there would be a

great reformation in his family inside of two years. He also told me

where I should live, also yourself and others, and a great many other

things. I conversed freely with father, and my words were repeated

three times by as many different persons, exactly as I spoke them,

until they reached him, and then his words to me were handed down in a

like manner.

"After all this I gave way to doubt, thinking it might be only a dream,

and to convince myself that I was awake, I got up and walked out-doors

into the open air.

"I returned and still the spirit of doubt was upon me. To test it

further I asked my wife Julia to sing me a verse of one of her old

songs. At that, the choir, which had continued singing, stopped and she

sang the song through, every word being distinct and beautiful. The

name of the song was, 'Does He Ever Think of Me.'

"My eyes were now turned toward the south, and there, as in a large

parquette, I beheld hundreds, even thousands, of friends and relatives.

I was then given the privilege of asking questions and did so. This

lasted for some time, after which the singing commenced again,

directly above me. I now wrapped myself in a pair of blankets and went

out-doors, determined to see the singers, but could see nothing, though

I could hear the voices just the same. I returned to my couch and the

singing, which was all communicative and instructive, continued until

the day dawned. All this time the clock I have mentioned continued its

cursing and blackguarding.

"Mr. and Mrs. Black were up in due time and got breakfast. I arose and

made my toilet, plain as it was, and took breakfast with my host and

hostess. When my boy got ready to start, I went to pay my bill, and to

my surprise heard a voice say or communicate: 'David Kimball has paid

his bill.' When I got into the wagon, my guards, or those who were

around my bed during the night, were still with me. My father had told

me that he and President Young and others would visit me the next night.

"We drove on until about 11 a. m., when a host of evil spirits made

their appearance. They were determined to destroy me, but I had power

of mind to pay no attention to them, and let them curse all day without

heeding them any more than possible. Five times they made a rush _en

masse_ to come into the wagon, the last one, where I was, but were kept

off by my friends (spiritual). About 2 p. m. I told my boy to stop and

we would water our horses. We used for this purpose barrels that we had

along with us. After this I walked to the west side of my wagons, and

looking to the east, I saw and heard the evil spirits floating in the

air and chanting curses upon Brigham Young. I saw two other groups of

the same kind, but did not hear them. Then I looked to the south and

the whole atmosphere was crowded with fallen spirits, or those who had

not obtained bodies. Others who tried to torment me were spirits who

had lived upon the earth. Having seen so many and being complimented

by my guard for seeing so well, I became a little timid and asked my

spiritual friends if they had any help. The answer was, 'Yes, plenty.'

I now told my boy to drive on--he was entirely oblivious of all that

was taking place with me--and soon after I was so exhausted that I fell

into a troubled sleep and must have slept quite a little while.

"After I awoke I seemed to be left alone, and was lying on my back,

when, all at once, I saw an old man and two young girls. This vision

coming on me so suddenly, I was startled, and finding my guard gone, I

jumped out of the wagon and got up on the spring seat beside my boy.

But I could not get away from them. I was told in a coarse, gruff voice

that the devil was going to kill me, and that he would follow me night

and day until he destroyed me. I remembered the promise father had made

me the night before--that he intended to visit me the next evening--and

I nerved up and tried to pay no attention to my persecutors, but I must

confess I was frightened.

"We arrived at Wickenburg just at sundown. The old man and the girls

were tormenting and tantalizing me all the way, but never coming very

near to me. We got supper and I took a room at Peeple's hotel and

retired about 10 p. m. When everything was quiet my spirit friends,

eight in number, returned and my tormentors were required to leave.

Soon after, a glorious vision burst upon me. There were thousands of

the Saints presented to me, many who had died at Nauvoo, in Winter

Quarters, on the plains and in Utah.

"I saw Brother Pugmire and many others whom I did not know were dead.

When my mother came to me it was so real and I was so overjoyed that

I exclaimed aloud. So powerful was this vision that I asked President

Young, who seemed to be directing matters, three times to relieve me,

or I would faint. A great many others passed in regular order; and I

recognized nearly all of them, and was told the names of all I did not

know. My father sat in a chair with his legs crossed and his hands

clasped together, as we have often seen him. Those who passed along had

hidden him from my view till then.

"This scene vanished, and I was then taken in the vision into a vast

building, which was built on the plan of the Order of Zion. I entered

through a south door and found myself in a part of the building which

was unfinished, though a great many workmen were busy upon it. My guide

showed me all through this half of the house, and then took me through

the other half, which was finished. The richness, grandeur and beauty

of it defied description. There were many apartments in the house,

which was very spacious, and they differed in size and the fineness of

the workmanship, according to the merits on earth of those who were

to occupy them. I felt most at home in the unfinished part, among the

workmen. The upper part of the house was filled with Saints, but I

could not see them, though some of them conversed with me, my father

and mother, Uncle Joseph Young and others.

"My father told me many things, and I received many reproofs for my

wrong-doings. Yet he was loth to have me leave, and seemed to feel very

badly when the time came for me to go. He told me I could remain there

if I chose to do so, but I plead with him that I might stay with my

family long enough to make them comfortable, to repent of my sins, and

more fully prepare myself for the change. Had it not been for this, I

never should have returned home, except as a corpse. Father finally

told me I could remain two years, and to do all the good I could during

that time, after which he would come for me; he mentioned four others

that he would come for also, though he did not say it would be at the

same time.

"On the 18th of November, about noon, we left Wickenburg (which is

twenty-two miles from Black's Ranch where we stopped the previous

night) on our journey home. I was exhausted from what I had

experienced, and could feel my mind fast giving away, but I had

confidence that I would reach home alive. There were no Elders to

administer to me and no kind friends to look after my wants except my

son, who had all he could do in looking after eight horses and two

wagons. As my mind wandered and grew weaker, I was troubled and led by

influences over which I had no power, and my friends, the good spirits,

had all left me.

"We drove about twenty miles that afternoon, camping about eight miles

from water, on the Salt River desert, which is about fifty miles

across. During the fore part of the night I heard the horses running as

though they were frightened. My son was asleep, but I got up and put my

overcoat across my shoulders and went out where they were and got them

quieted down. I was about to return to the wagon, when that same old

man with gray whiskers, who had tormented me before, stepped between

me and the wagons. He had a long knife in his hand. I was frightened

and fled, he pursuing me and telling me he was going to kill me. What

I passed through I cannot describe, and no mortal tongue could tell. I

wandered two days and three nights in the Salt River desert, undergoing

the torments of the damned, most of the time, which was beyond anything

that mortal could imagine.

"When my mind was restored, and the fever which had raged within me had

abated, I found myself lying on a bleak hill-top, lost in the desert,

chilled, hungered, thirsty and feeble. I had scarcely any clothing on,

was barefooted, and my body full of cactus from head to foot. My hands

were a perfect mat of thorns and briars. This, with the knowledge that

no one was near me, made me realize the awful condition I was in. I

could not walk. I thought I would take my life, but had no knife or any

thing to do it with. I tried to cut an artery in my arm with a sharp

rock I had picked up, hoping I might bleed to death, but even this was

denied me. The wolves and ravens were hovering around me, anxiously

awaiting my death. I had a long stick and I thought I would dig a deep

hole and cover myself up the best I could, so the wolves would not

devour my body until I could be found by my friends.

"On the night of the 21st, I could see a fire about twenty-five miles

to the south, and felt satisfied that it was my friends coming after

me. I knew the country where I was; I was about eight miles from houses

where I could have got plenty of water and something to eat, but my

strength was gone and my feet were so sore I could not stand up.

Another long and dreary day passed, but I could see nothing but wolves

and ravens and a barren desert covered with cactus, and had about made

up my mind that the promise of two years life, made by my father, was

not to be realized. While in this terrible plight, and when I had just

about given up all hope, my father and mother appeared to me and gave

me a drink of water and comforted me, telling me I would be found by

my friends who were out searching for me, and that I should live two

years longer as I had been promised. When night came I saw another fire

a few hundred yards from me and could see my friends around it, but

I was so hoarse I could not make them hear. By this time my body was

almost lifeless and I could hardly move, but my mind was in a perfect

condition and I could realize everything that happened around me.

"On the morning of the 23rd, at daylight, here they came, about twenty

in all, two of my own sons, my nephew William, Bishop E. Pomeroy,

John Lewis, John Blackburn, Wiley Jones and others, all friends and

relatives from the Mesa, who had tracked me between seventy-five and

one hundred miles. I shook hands with them, and they were all overjoyed

to see me alive, although in such a pitiable plight. My own feelings

I shall not undertake to describe. I told them to be very careful how

they let me have water, at first. They rolled me up in some blankets

and put me on a buck-board and appointed John Lewis to look after me

as doctor and nurse. After I had taken a few swallows of water, I was

almost frantic for more, but they wisely refused to let me have it

except in small doses every half hour.

"I had about seventy-five miles to ride home. We arrived at my place in

Jonesville on the afternoon of the 24th of November, when my wife and

family took charge of me and I was tenderly and carefully nourished.

In a few days I was around again. I told my experience to President

McDonald, Bishop Pomeroy, C. I. Robson and others, and most of them

believed me, but my word was doubted by some. The report had gone out

that I had been drinking and was under the influence of liquor. This

was an utterly false report. I told them I had just two years to live,

so they could tell whether it was a true manifestation or not.

"Now, Sister Helen, during the last twelve years I have had doubts

about the truth of 'Mormonism,' because I did not take a course to keep

my testimony alive within me. And the letter I wrote you last August,

I suppose caused you to feel sorrowful, and you prayed for me and God

heard your prayers. And our father and mother plead with the Lord in

my behalf, to whom I will give the credit of this terrible but useful

ordeal through which I have passed and only in part described, an

ordeal which but few men have ever been able to endure and relate what

I have seen and heard.

"Now, my dear sister, you have a little of your brother David's

experience, and let who will think that I had been drinking. I know

these things were shown to me for my own good, and it was no dream

but a glorious and awful reality. My story is believed by my brethren

who have respect for me. I will console myself with the knowledge I

have obtained. Let the world wag on, and let hell and the devil keep

up their warfare against the Saints of God. I know for myself that

"Mormonism" is true. With God's help, while I live, I shall strive to

do good, and I will see you before long and tell you all, as it never

will be blotted out of my memory.

"With kind regards, in which my wife and children join, I remain, as

ever,

Your Affectionate Brother,

David P. Kimball."

CHAPTER II.

ACCOUNT OF PATTEN KIMBALL AND OTHERS, REGARDING THE SEARCH FOR AND

FINDING OF HIS FATHER.

The following account is furnished by Elder Solomon F. Kimball, brother

of David P. Kimball, who was in Mesa at the time of the occurrence

described and thoroughly conversant with the facts:

On the morning of November 19th when Patten arose and missed his father

he thought probably he had gone out to hunt for the horses, and felt

no uneasiness concerning him. He made a fire, prepared breakfast and

waited some time, but could not see or hear him anywhere. The horses

came strolling into camp and were tied up, fed and watered. Patten then

ate his meal and saddled a horse and rode back towards Wickenburg,

until he came to a small place called Seymour on the Hassayampa but

could find out nothing of his father's whereabouts. He went back to the

wagon and hunted the country close around camp but found nothing but

his father's overcoat, which was a few hundred yards from the wagon.

It being an old camp-ground, it was impossible to find his tracks. He

finally came to the conclusion that he had gone towards home, so he

hitched up his team and drove homeward until he came to Mr. Calderwoods

at Agua Fria. (Cold Water). At this place there was a well dug on the

desert about twenty miles from Salt River. Patten had traveled about

twenty-two miles before reaching this point, but was disappointed in

not hearing anything of his father. He had traveled all night and Mr.

Calderwood was up and around when he arrived. He related his story to

him and was advised by him to leave his team there and take the best

pair of horses, and hitch them to his buck-board and go on to the

Mesa. Here he could get help to come and hunt for the missing man. The

distance was forty miles, which would take all the rest of the day (the

20th). He acted on the advice, however, and arrived at his destination

at 9 p. m. The news was circulated, and in less than two hours, twenty

of the best and most experienced men at Mesa and Jonesville were on the

road, taking Patten back with them. They also took a wagon to carry

water and provisions, but most of them were on the best of horses.

They had sixty miles to ride, before beginning the search, which was

accomplished by daylight next morning. After feeding their horses and

eating a lunch they held a consultation and agreed to abide by the

following rule. If any one of the party found his tracks he was to make

a smoke and this would call the others in that direction. They then

started out in different directions. They scoured the country until

about noon, when Sern Sornson and Charles Rogers found his tracks.

They supposed they were about twelve miles from where he was lost, and

about ten miles from Agua Fria, close to the main road on the south

side. They soon gathered some brush and started a fire, putting on

plenty of green weeds, etc., to cause a smoke, and soon attracted the

attention of their comrades. His tracks were followed. They wound round

and round, going in no particular direction. Some places he would cross

his tracks eight or ten times in going one hundred yards, which made it

quite difficult to follow.

After spending a part of the afternoon trailing him up, the tracks

finally took a direct course leading to the north. By this time all the

searching party were together.

Another meeting was held and the plan adopted was for eight horsemen,

four on each side of his tracks, to ride at a considerable distance

apart, so as to cut off the track if it turned to the right or left,

and two or three of the best trailers to keep on the tracks, while the

buck-board and wagon followed up. These were out of sight most of the

time, as very good time was made by the trailers after this plan was

adopted. The ground was quite soft, and those on the trail would gallop

their horses for miles, but darkness soon put an end to their work for

this day, a good thing for both men and animals.

They had traveled upwards of one hundred miles in about twenty hours.

They were working men and had plenty of strength to carry them through

under all circumstances. They camped on the highest ground that could

be found close by, and made a large fire which was kept up all night by

those on guard.

As soon as it was light enough to see the tracks, every man was at his

place moving as fast as he could under the circumstances.

This was the morning of the 22nd. One great drawback they met with that

day was that when they would come to a deep ravine where water had run

during rainy weather, the tracks would follow up sometimes for miles

and then continue in the former direction. Places would frequently be

found in the sand where the lost one had dug down for water with his

hands. Now and then they would find a piece of his clothing and see

places where he had run into the fox-tail cactus, cat's-claw and other

thorny bushes. One place was found where he had broken off the limb

of a tree for a walking stick. The party followed his tracks all day

without stopping, only as they were obliged to, on account of losing

the trail or from some other cause.

Darkness overtook them again, but nothing could be heard or seen of

the missing man. They slept on his tracks, keeping up a fire all night

as before. His sons and others could not rest, and followed his tracks

after dark by striking matches and putting them close to the ground

to see if they might possibly find him. Some thought they could hear

a sound but it was so indistinct they could not discern the direction

from which it came. It was indeed he who called, for they were then

only a few hundred yards from him, but he was too hoarse to make them

hear. On the morning of the 23rd at daylight his anxious friends were

on his tracks, and had gone but a short distance when Charles Peterson

saw him. He had a long staff in his hand, and had raised up as high

as he could get, being on one knee and the other foot on the ground,

and was stretching himself as far as he could and looking eagerly for

their arrival. The crowd made a rush, and in a few seconds were with

him, Bishop E. Pomeroy being the first. He was in his right mind and

knew all present, and was glad to shake them by the hand, calling each

by name. He was in good spirits and joked the boys frequently and gave

them instructions to be careful in giving him water, etc. There was no

water except in a canteen that had been reserved for his especial use.

The company suffered themselves for want of water. They had traveled

upwards of one hundred and fifty miles in less than forty-eight hours.

David had dug a deep hole with his stick and had used his hands to

move the dirt. He said he was digging his own grave. He was rolled in

blankets and put on the buck-board. All drove to the nearest houses,

seven or eight miles distant, on the Hassayampa, where all refreshed

themselves with water and something to eat. Soon they were on the road

homeward. They drove to Mr. Calderwood's, which was about thirty miles,

and stayed all night. He was very kind to all and told them to help

themselves to any thing he had, such as hay, grain and food. He acted

the gentleman in every respect. A large number of men had also left

Phoenix in search of David, among them being the U. S. Marshal, and

others. Men and Indians were riding over the desert in every direction.

Next morning the company drove to Jonesville, forty miles distant,

where they arrived about 3 p. m.

David was carried into his house where he was surrounded by his loving

wife and children.

When he recounted his experience, he said that one thing that kept him

from choking to death for want of water, was the damp pebbles which he

dug from low ravines and held them in his mouth. The Indians said that

no human being could walk as far as he did, go without water and live

four days and five nights. The party that found him said he must have

walked at least seventy-five miles, some said one hundred.

He testified that on the afternoon of the 22nd, his father and mother

came and gave him water and told him that his friends would find him.

His clothing was all gone except his under garments, which were badly

torn.

Before leaving home on his trip to Prescott, David had worked several

days fixing up his books and accounts, and burning up all useless

papers, after which he told his wife that he felt different in starting

on this trip from anything he had ever felt before. He said it seemed

to him that he should never return. He told her that if this proved

to be the case, he had fixed his business up in such a shape that she

would have no trouble, and would know as much about it as himself.

She frequently spoke of these curious remarks, and felt considerably

worried. When the news came that he was lost, all was plain to her, and

she never expected to see him come home alive. Nothing could comfort

her and she watched night and day until he was brought home.

* * * * *

In the Fall of 1883, Elder David P. Kimball paid a visit to Salt Lake

City, to see his sister Helen and others, to whom he confirmed by his

own lips all that his letter contained, and told some other things

in relation to his marvelous experience. He declared solemnly to her

that he was perfectly sober when he passed through the trying ordeal

related, and bore a powerful testimony to the truth of "Mormonism."

He seemed a little reticent to most of his relatives, and talked but

little of his strange experience, feeling pained that so many seemed to

doubt his word, and being unwilling to make himself obtrusive. When he

bade his friends farewell, there was something about him which seemed

to say that he was taking leave of them for all time. This visit was

no doubt made with that prospect, for it was almost two years from the

time he was lost on the desert. He returned home to St. David, Cochise

County, Arizona, and almost the next news that came from there was the

tidings of his death.

A letter from his nephew, Charles S. Whitney, who was then living with

him, written home on the 22nd of November, 1883, contained this:

"Uncle David died this morning at half-past six, easily, and apparently

without a bit of pain. Shortly before he died, he looked up and called,

'Father, father!' All night long he had called for Uncle Heber. You

remember hearing him tell how grand-pa came to him when he was lost

on the desert, and how he plead for two more years and was given that

much longer to stay. Last Saturday, the day he was so bad, was just two

years from the day he was lost, and to-day is just two years from the

day his father and mother came to him and gave him a drink of water,

and told him that his friends would find him and he should live two

years longer. He knew that he was going to die, and bade Aunt Caroline

good-by day before yesterday."

BRIANT S. STEVENS.

A Little Savior in the Midst of His Young Companions.

BY KENNON.

CHAPTER I.

BRIANT STRINGAM STEVENS BECOMES A MISSIONARY TO HIS ASSOCIATES AND

BRINGS FOUR BOYS TO BELIEF AND BAPTISM--A GOOD CHILD WHO PASSED AMIDST

THE DAILY TEMPTATIONS OF LIFE UNSCATHED.

"If there is anything that will endure

The eye of God because it still is pure,

It is the spirit of a little child,

Fresh from His hands, and therefore undefiled.

Nearer the gate of Paradise than we,

Our children breathe its airs, its angels see;

And when they pray God hears their simple prayer,

Yea, even sheathes His sword, in judgment bare."

These thoughtful words of the poet always recurred to my mind when I

met little Briant Stevens. We notice, with most children, how quickly

they grow away from the absolute and perfect purity of childhood into

the heedlessness of youth; and often, too often, with their experience

of life comes experience of wrong. Of all the boys that I ever met, who

had reached years of accountability, I think Briant Stevens bore in his

face and manner the most evidence of a retention of that saintliness

which is the endowment of each of God's little ones. Not that he seemed

too solemn for earth: but because there was a fearless grace, and yet a

tenderness, which showed that the inherent beauty of his young life was

still unsoiled.

"You hear that boy laugh?--you think he's in fun;

But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;

The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,

And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!"

This was the boy, Briant Stringam Stevens. Often have I seen strangers

when passing him in the street pause and make inquiry concerning him.

His demeanor was so admirable that they could not restrain a desire

to know something of him. Distinctly I can remember the first time I

ever saw him--when he was about ten years old. He had his books under

his arm, and was evidently going to school. His appearance was so

attractive that I felt impelled to stop him and ask his name. Without

the slightest embarrassment, he lifted his hat and answered me politely

and cordially. From that time I never met him without receiving his

gentlemanly salutation. Those of our people who knew him can all

conscientiously speak of him as "The Little Saint;" scores of worldly

people who knew him call him "The Little Gentleman."

* * * * *

Briant Stringam Stevens was the son of Thomas Jordan Stevens and Maria

Stringam Stevens, and the grandson of Briant Stringam. He was born

December 24th, 1873, in the Thirteenth Ward of Salt Lake City. He died

February 3rd, 1887, at Ogden.

Few people who have barely lived to enter their fourteenth year have

done so much that is worthy of record and emulation as this little boy.

After he had obtained membership in the Church through baptism, he

became deeply impressed with the desire to bring the same blessings to

others. Among his playmates were several boys who were his own age and

some who were older than himself; and whose parents had failed--either

through carelessness or intention--to have their children baptized.

Without a hint from any person, little Briant took upon himself the

duty to convince these children and their parents of the necessity

of baptism. What anxious hours the little fellow spent in devising

means to influence his playmates, no one living now can tell; but

the subject seemed ever present with him, and after months of labor

among his companions he had converted four of the boys at least one of

whom was older than himself, to a belief in the Gospel, and to desire

for membership in the Church of Christ. Briant asked his father to

administer the ordinance to these little converts; but Brother Stevens

informed the child that he could not baptize any of the boys without

the consent of their parents. Still of his own volition, and without

instruction or advice from anybody, Briant visited the homes of his

playmates, and began a missionary labor with the parents. Nothing could

discourage him; he went bravely to the people and pleaded with them on

behalf of their sons.

And, after patient and hopeful waiting, Briant gained the consent which

he so earnestly sought. It was a happy day for him when he went with

his father to the bank of the Ogden River and saw his companions, who

were most truly his little brethren, emerge from the water and receive

their confirmation for the gift of the Holy Ghost.

But Briant's guardianship of these boys did not end when their baptism

was accomplished. With a gravity beyond his years, he visited them

one after another at their homes, and instructed them concerning the

responsibilities which they had assumed, and the necessity of purity of

conduct becoming to Saints of God, if they wished to derive blessing

from their obedience to the holy requirement. Whenever and wherever

he met them, he was always ready and able to counsel them; and yet he

did not trouble them with long sermons, but spoke to them with so much

feeling and good-fellowship that they were led day by day to a greater

detestation of evil, and to a greater love for good.

He persuaded them to attend Sunday School, and to take part in the

exercises of the Preceptor Class; never permitting them to wander very

long or very far without giving them his admonition. Older persons who

have had experience in this matter will readily understand that his

work, even with his four young converts, was a daily one. It was not

sufficient to bring them into the Church; but, with all the distracting

influences which surrounded them, it was necessary that they should

learn to love the truth and to understand it for themselves.

One of these boys, who lived near to Briant's home and was his frequent

companion, became anxious to hold the Aaronic Priesthood. He had

arrived at years which justified that wish, and he talked with Briant

upon the subject. Briant consulted with Brother Stevens and learned

that it would be possible for his companion to receive the desired

ordinance, but that consent must be gained from the boy's parents.

Again Briant took upon himself the responsibility of gaining that

permission; but the opportunity did not come in this life.

He was extending his little missionary labors up to the very hour

that he was stricken. Several other boys had aroused his interest,

and sometimes he confided to his father that he hoped to see these

companions do much good, though their ways were not always becoming to

children who believed in the gospel. On more than one occasion when he

found these boys lapsing into wrong-doing or carelessness, he confessed

to his father a fear that he would not be able to do them any good,

and that he must cease his association with them. And yet he always

returned to the labor with renewed hope and courage.

It is a dangerous experiment to trust one good boy with a number of

playmates who are not what they should be; because, as a rule, he

learns to partake with them. But Brother Stevens gives a marvelous

testimony to the worth of his son when he says:

"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:

"I would have preferred to lose all my other pigeons than to have lost

Whitey, for that was little Jordie's pet."

Then he drew a perfect picture of the lost bird and placed it in a nook

in the barn, underneath these words:

"Whitey, nine years old."

With all the many virtues and the thoughtfulness of this little boy, he

was not mawkish in his manner. At times, when deeply impressed, he was

solemn in word and look; but he was full of healthy sentiment, and was

bubbling over with energy and brightness.

CHAPTER II.

ACCIDENTS TO BRIANT--HE IS ORDAINED TO THE PRIESTHOOD--PATIENT

ENDURANCE OF HIS SUFFERINGS--HE IS BLESSED TO BE AN ELDER AND THEN

SLUMBERS IN DEATH.

In October last, 1886, with a number of companions Briant was playing

on a trapeze at the house of a friend, when he fell and broke his

right arm. After the accident, Briant did not hurry to his home, which

was only a block away; but an hour later his father found him at the

doctor's office, where the arm had been set. Briant was perfectly

composed; and, instead of crying as most boys do when a new sympathiser

comes, he gave his first thought to his mother, who had been quite ill

and had not yet entirely recovered. He said to his father:

"I hope mamma does not know of this. If not, then we will keep it from

her; because she would worry a great deal, and the anxiety might make

her worse."

When they went home Briant bounded into the house with a smile on his

lips, and in reply to his mother's anxious questions he said:

"Nothing serious, mamma. I have strained my arm; but it will be well in

a few days."

He kissed her and then ran laughing from the room, although at the time

he must have been suffering excruciating pain. Some time elapsed before

his mother knew the truth; and then she did not learn it from Briant.

He had recovered from the outward appearance of his injury to his arm,

but it was not yet strong, when he met with another and more serious

accident. With two of his companions he was jumping from a low roof,

when his foot caught and he fell headlong to the ground. The weak arm

received the weight of the shock; the old break was re-opened and the

bones were split in a new place, and one of them protruded from a

bleeding wound in the wrist. He had fallen upon a heap of sand, and

when he rose to his feet he found that in the gash made by the broken

bone the sand and dirt had penetrated. He sat down and wiped his wrist

and the bone clean, put back the bone inside the flesh of his arm, and

then started for the doctor's office. As in the other instance, his

home was only a block away, but he did not wish to alarm his folks.

Failing to find the doctor he went to a drug store, and, explaining his

injury, asked that the physician be sent for. An hour later Brother

Stevens found Briant sitting, pale but complacent, in the doctor's

office, awaiting treatment. The necessary operation was long and

painful, and at its close Briant was very weak. He whispered to his

father:

"I am all right, papa, and will soon be well; but I hope that we can

get home quickly, because I want you to administer to me."

This second serious accident occurred on the 18th of January, 1887;

a week later--on the 25th day of the month--lock-jaw set in, and his

suffering became intense.

Brother Stevens went on the day following to ask the assistance of

Elders George W. Larkin and Moroni Poulter in watching with Briant; and

these two brethren remained alternately at the child's bedside, day and

night, until he closed his eyes in death. On the morning of the 26th of

January, before the visit of Brother Stevens, Elder Larkin said to his

family:

"I had a strange and sad dream about little Briant Stevens last night.

I wonder if the boy is sick."

Half an hour later Brother Stevens called with the sorrowful message;

but Elder Larkin, though amazed at the coincidence, would not relate

the nature of his dream, for fear of rending the father's heart. But

the dream was later fulfilled to the letter, and was then fully stated.

Bishop Stratford had selected Briant, a few weeks before the second

accident, as a proper subject for ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood;

but the ordinance had not yet been attended to. And while Briant was

prostrated, he was comforted by receiving this blessing under the

direction of the proper authorities. At the same time he remembered

his promise to his young convert and companion, and he so impressed

his anxiety upon his father's mind that--on the very day of Briant's

funeral--Brother Stevens visited the other little chap and made an

arrangement for his ordination.

When the more serious affliction of lock-jaw came upon Briant, he

expressed but one regret: he feared that his misfortunes were bringing

trouble and annoyance upon his parents and friends. Beyond this source

of anxiety, all was peace with him. He never expressed the slightest

fear for himself. He was always, according to his hopeful words, in a

state of improvement: never needing anything except the blessing of

God; never enduring much pain; but quite content if the Elders were

present to administer to him and to talk with him about the things of

God.

One day he called his father and mother to his bedside and said to them:

"I am not afraid to die; for there is nothing in death of which I have

any dread. Only I want to take part in the building of the temple to

God in Jackson County."

On another occasion he said to the Elders who were watching with him:

"I shall get better soon, and then I shall be able to repay you for

your great kindness. I want to see the coming of our Lord Jesus; I want

to go back to Jackson County to help to build the temple there for Him.

And I know that I _will_ aid in this work."

One of the brethren was moved upon by the Spirit of God to administer

to Briant and to promise that this hope should be fulfilled; that the

boy should see the coming of Christ and be with the Saints in Jackson

County when they should build the temple.

Night after night the Elders came and watched with Briant, blessing

him and ministering to his wants. They esteemed it not a task, but a

pleasure; because, as they all stated, they never before felt such a

constant power and influence of the Spirit as they encountered at this

boy's bedside. So peaceful and joyous was the manifestation to them

that everyone felt that no death was in the house.

But the night before Briant died one of the Elders who had attended

at the bedside, fell asleep while thinking about the sick child. He

dreamed that himself and three of his companion Elders, who had also

waited on Briant, went upon a journey into a distant and beautiful

country. They seemed to have some definite object in view, but during

their travel this object was not present to their minds.

When they reached the fair land of their destination, they saw a superb

building, which they at once divined to be a temple of the living God.

It was not yet completed; but it had assumed such proportions as to

show the utmost grandeur. It was constructed of white, shining stone,

seemingly as hard as granite. Many workmen appeared to be engaged in

the building; and one of them, clothed in a white robe, with his head

and hands and feet bare, stood upon the ground near the entrance to the

structure.

In the white outer wall, at one side of the mighty arched doorway,

and at the height of a man's head, a monogram seemed to be newly set

into the stone. It was composed of three letters; the top one being B,

clearly distinguishable; and the other two being fainter. At once the

sojourners knew that this was what they had come after. The Elder who

dreamed, thought that he reached forward and attempted to take it from

its place. But the white robed workman stayed his hand, saying:

"You cannot take it. It has been set here by order of the Master, as an

ornament to this temple."

The Elders then walked around the building, and entered the interior

through a magnificent portal, and saw that much workmanship of fine

patterns was being used in the adornment of the structure. They walked

out and once more essayed to pluck the monogram from its place in the

glittering wall. But again the voice of the guardian workman stayed

their hands. For the second time they walked around the temple, entered

through the archway and gazed at the magnificent interior. Then they

said:

"Let us try once more."

The third time the Elder stretched out his hand to take the monogram;

but, as on the other occasions, he was told to desist. The workman had

spoken to him each time in perfect kindness, but in a decided tone. On

this final effort a voice sounding like a trumpet descended from the

top of the building, saying:

"Brother [calling him by name], you must go back; your wish cannot be

granted."

Then they withdrew. Soon the Elder awoke, and he felt certain that the

prayers which had been offered concerning Briant Stevens--though they

had reached the throne of the Eternal Father--were powerless to change

the decree which had been made in heaven concerning the boy, and that

Briant must speedily pass from earth.

The next day this Elder was sitting in Fast meeting, when the dream

recurred to his mind; and instantly he felt that Briant should be

ordained to the Melchisedec Priesthood before his death. The Elder

would have gone to the house, but a sudden impression came to him that

he need have no anxiety, for the matter was already receiving attention.

On the morning of the 3rd of February, which was Fast-day, Brother

Stevens was prompted to ordain Briant to the Melchisedec Priesthood;

but he endeavored to banish the thought from his mind. It constantly

recurred to him, each time growing more imperative. He was not alone in

this feeling, for several Elders who had watched with Briant felt the

same influence at the same time, although they were not all present.

But one of them, who was sitting at the bedside, said:

"Brother Stevens, I have felt for several hours that I ought to speak

to you about ordaining Briant to be an Elder in the Church. I think

that you ought to do this at once."

Brother Stevens admitted that the same feeling had been in his mind;

but that he had hesitated, for fear that such a course might seem like

giving up a hope of Briant's recovery. But after such admonitions

he could no longer neglect the warning, and he sent for the Bishop.

The messenger, on his way to the Bishop's place, met President

Shurtliff and spoke to him of Briant; and the President seemed to have

entertained the same thought, for he said that he was led to believe

that Briant should receive the Melchisedec Priesthood.

When this holy ordination was conferred upon him, Briant became serene,

though he had been in great pain for some time preceding, and he sank

at once into an easy slumber.

He woke not in this world. In an hour his breathing ceased and his

spirit left the tortured clay to undergo the transition of nature,

while the noble life went to another realm to perform its destined

mission.

Elder George Larkin was in the room when Briant died; and to him was

entrusted the sad duty of preparing the wasted body for its burial.

When his solemn task was completed he burst into tears and said to

Brother Stevens:

"Now my dream is fulfilled. The night before you called for me, a

vision came in my slumber. I saw Briant lying dead in this room, and

mine was the dread duty to wash and dress his deserted tabernacle and

place it in the coffin. And so it has come to pass, exactly according

to my dream."

CHAPTER III.

A "HELPFUL VISION" TO BRIANT'S STRICKEN FATHER--THE COMFORTER BRINGS

THE PEACE WHICH PASSES ALL UNDERSTANDING--THE FUNERAL OF THE LITTLE

MISSIONARY--HIS WORK LIVES AFTER HIM.

There was but one thought produced in the minds of all who knew of the

last scene at this good little Briant's bedside: it was that in all

the spasms and torture of his dread disease he had been kept alive to

receive the power of this ordination; and as soon as the administration

was effected, the purpose of his mortal life was fulfilled, and he

passed from a peaceful slumber on earth into a glorious waking beyond.

The night after Briant died, Brother and Sister Stevens were crushed

with woe. They were not entirely disconsolate; they did not mourn

as those who have no hope, and yet they seemed unable to reconcile

themselves to the loss of their pride and joy. Brother Stevens himself

said to a friend at this hour:

"I know that Briant is at peace. I know that he is a treasure and a

joy to his God wherever he is; and I do not repine at the decree which

has taken him away, after so many years of blessing in his society;

but when I remember that in every nook about our home there is some

evidence of his handiwork; when I think of all the comfort he has

been--I cannot hold back this feeling of agony."

That night Brother Stevens prayed that the Lord would give consolation;

and make manifest something of His glory to banish the overwhelming

sorrow which was in that stricken home. When Brother Stevens fell

asleep he dreamed; and it became a dream within a dream:

He thought that he went to bed and dreamed that Briant was dead. The

friends and relatives who flocked around were moaning in anguish and

asking in agonized tones what they could do to bring little Briant back

to life. The father retired to a room and fell upon his knees, and

asked the Lord what should be done in the matter; and the voice of the

Spirit came to him, saying:

"COVER BRIANT'S BODY WITH CLAY; AND THEN PATIENTLY AWAIT MY PURPOSE. IF

YOU WILL OBEY THIS COMMAND, I WILL SHOW YOU THE GLORY NOW POSSESSED BY

BRIANT."

While he still knelt this command was repeated; and he rose to his

feet. Entering the room where the little white-robed figure lay, he

said to the weeping attendants:

"I know now what I shall do. You need worry no more; because God has

told me, and I will fulfill His design."

The father lifted the body in his arms from the bed whereon it lay

in dread repose, and laid it upon the floor. He took clay and with

his hands covered the marble form deeply, until there was visible no

semblance of the body. And then he sat down to await God's purpose.

A long time and patiently he seemed to sit; and at length he saw a

light and in this light was little Briant, standing in the air, robed

in snowy whiteness, with a face transfigured in its light and beauty.

The boy smiled at him and moved his hands as if in loving recognition.

This ethereal form of Briant moved about in the room without effort. A

single inclination of the shining head seemed to project the body in

any desired direction.

While the father watched and marvelled and felt great joy, he dreamed

that he awoke from his dream and found his little Briant still

convulsed and tortured by the power of the Destroyer.

And then he seemed to weep in agony because of his boy's suffering; for

now instead of a familiar face yet transfigured in lovely happiness, he

saw a countenance strange and distorted by pain. He wished and prayed

that Briant's torture might cease, and that the boy might be translated

to heavenly radiance.

But soon in reality the father awoke, and sensed that Briant was

surely dead. And back came to his soul the feeling of patient hope

and unrepining trust which had seemed to pervade the inner dream.

He sincerely and submissively praised God's holy name. He told his

wife what he had seen in this vision of the night, and together they

took comfort; and through all the tribulation and loneliness which

have followed the loss of their eldest boy, they have felt a comfort

and sustaining power which nothing on earth can give, and nothing on

earth can take away. They know that, having covered Briant's body with

clay, they have now but to patiently await God's purpose, and He will

sometime restore to them the glorified, the redeemed, the happy child.

The funeral of this little Elder of the Church was held in the Ward

Meeting House in Ogden on Sunday, February 6th, 1887, and was attended

by some hundreds of people, ten of Briant's young companions acting as

pall bearers.

It was the remark of the majority of those who were present that

the Spirit of God seemed to fill the meeting-house and make its

abiding-place in every heart. Among the speakers were the Elders who

had attended Briant in his final act of suffering. They paid a glorious

tribute to his patience and to his integrity. All felt that it was

in fulfillment of God's own purpose that Briant had been called from

earth; and that the agony which he had endured was but the doorway

through which he entered into the Eternal Presence. The Elder who had

promised in a holy administration to Briant that the child should have

his hope fulfilled and engage in the building of the temple with the

Saints in Jackson County, addressed the congregation in a most feeling

manner. It was he who had dreamed of the temple and the monogram of

Briant's name. And he knew that the hand of God was in the event of the

boy's death. While this Elder spoke, his face shone with the Spirit

of God, and his words thrilled every heart. Out of the hundreds who

were present, probably there were no Saints who did not see a direct

manifestation of the Holy Ghost on this occasion. The Elder renewed the

promise which he had made to Briant during the child's lifetime; and he

did it, unquestionably, by the inspiration of the Almighty. He said:

"It seems strange to our natural senses that this child should be lying

here, stilled in death, and yet we should entertain a belief--nay, a

knowledge, that he will be with the Saints in his own dear person, at

the building of the temple in Jackson County. And yet, my brethren

and sisters, I know that the promise made to him will be fulfilled.

We are drawing nearer to that great day when wondrous things shall be

manifested unto us; the veil between us and the eternal abode of our

Almighty Father is growing thinner day by day. It is almost ready to

burst."

Elders Rodney C. Badger and Robert F. Neslen, of Salt Lake, also

addressed the congregation. Elder Neslen, in referring to the

missionary work performed by Briant Stevens, turned to a number of old

veterans of the Church who were sitting upon the stand, and said:

"This dear little boy by his own efforts brought four souls into a

belief in the everlasting gospel. His converts are here to day, sincere

believers, full of promise and devotion to the work, and now I doubt

whether some of the rest of us whose forms are bowed, and whose hair is

gray, with all our wanderings up and down the face of the earth, can

truly say that we have done more than he."

The little form of Briant Stevens was laid away in the cemetery; but

his work did not end with the vanishing of his form from its daily

associations. Of him truly it may be said that his work lives after

him. Some of his former companions have been changed from the hour that

they learned of his death; and if there be any prospect in human life

which can be deemed certain of fulfillment, these children will be his

imitators in all that was good. Word has come to his parents, even from

distant points, that children who knew him have said since his death,

"we will try to live like little Briant Stevens, so that if we should

die we can be remembered."

And two of his daily associates--one of them being Fred J. Bluth, was

with him on each occasion when he broke his arm, and the other being

Edgar Peterson, one of Briant's converts, have received a power and

manifestation concerning him which is not unworthy of mention.

Briant and Fred attended the Central School together; and each night

Briant, who was the earlier released from his classes, waited at the

gate for Fred. In the second night after Briant was buried, Fred had a

dream which he relates almost exactly in the following words:

"I thought that Briant was waiting for me at the gate as usual--only he

was dressed in white raiment, like that in which he lay in the coffin.

When I came near him, he sprang to my side and threw his arms around my

neck. He took my hand, and said: 'Come, Fred, with me.'

"Hand in hand, we ran up town together. We came to a house in which a

baby lay dead. We entered the room and looked at the little one. Still

hand in hand, we came out, and a large wagon stood before the door. The

driver came down from his seat, and we got in and drove to a building

like a granary. Briant opened the doors. And then I heard a voice

saying:

"'You must fill the wagon with corn.'

"Briant and I began to shovel corn into the wagon; but soon he stopped.

I asked:

"'Is it enough?'

"And he answered:

"'Not yet.'

"I worked a little longer, and again I called to him:

"'Is it enough, Briant?'

"And once more he replied:

"'Not yet, Fred.'

"After a still longer time, during which I worked diligently, I asked

him for the third time:

"'Is it enough?'

"And Briant replied:

"'Yes, it is enough. Now you must come with me, Fred.'

"I climbed into the wagon with him; and then we drove away together. At

once I awoke."

Little Fred felt startled by this dream. He related it to Edgar

Peterson, when the latter asked:

"Do you know the meaning of your dream?"

"No."

"Then I will give you the interpretation. It means that your earthly

work is not yet finished and that when it is done, Briant will call for

you."

* * * * *

My young brethren and sisters, doubtless you all have ambitious moments

in which you sigh to be noble, and to do some heroic action. Think of

little Briant Stevens. He learned the secret of true greatness. He

lived in purity, in faith and in prayer to Almighty God.

FINDING COMFORT.

The Experience of a Young Missionary in a Lonely Field, 10,000 Miles

from Home.

BY THOMAS A. SHREEVE.

CHAPTER I.

CALLED TO AUSTRALASIA--THE MODERN IMITATORS OF JOB'S FRIENDS--OUR

"SPECIAL INSTRUCTION" IS TO "BUILD UP THE KINGDOM OF GOD IN THOSE

LANDS"--A DISAPPOINTMENT ENDS IN A BLESSING--PROMISES BY AN APOSTLE

WHICH WERE LITERALLY FULFILLED--WE REACH SYDNEY, AND I AM SEPARATED

FROM MY COMPANION.

If a relation of my missionary experience can give to my young

brethren and sisters one tithe of the strength and blessing which

that experience itself imparted to me, I shall be more than repaid

in relating it. From the reading of similar accounts by other Elders

I have derived much benefit myself; but I realize that words are

powerless to convey a full description of the events which befall every

missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. No man

can serve his Savior faithfully in distant lands, among strangers,

without receiving and keeping constantly the Spirit of holiness, and

without experiencing miraculous interpositions in his behalf. At the

time of their occurrence they are subjects of wonder and thankfulness;

but as years pass by, it becomes extremely difficult to put them into

words so expressive that they do not seem either too fanciful for

reality, or too cold to be interesting.

* * * * *

At the General Conference on April 8th, 1878, in company with Elder

Fred. J. May, of Salt Lake, I was called to fill a mission in

Australasia, comprising Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand. A strange

circumstance attended this calling. For a week previous to the time

that the public announcement was made, some of the authorities who

had the matter in charge, and who had my name with the names of other

missionaries, had been looking vainly for me, or for someone who knew

me. Three separate times my name was called in public meeting, and a

request for my attendance at the President's office was made known. I

heard nothing of the matter, although probably scores of my friends

and intimate acquaintances were present. But each one thought that I

had either heard the notice myself, or would be told by someone else.

At last, on Saturday evening, April 6th, 1878, I was informed that a

meeting was to be held at the Council House, and that my presence was

desired. I was then engaged in the old "Big Boot" shoe store in Salt

Lake; and I dropped my work and hastened to the appointment, reaching

the Council House just at the appointed hour. I found Brother John Van

Cott there, and asked him what was wanted of me.

"Wanted of you?" he asked, in surprise.

"Yes, I was told that inquiry had been made for me in two or three

meetings, and that I was wanted here to-night."

"Oh, are you the man? We have been hunting for you for a week. I have

known you for years, but I had forgotten entirely who you were. We want

to know if you are willing to take a mission. Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

At that moment Uncle Joseph Young came in; and Brother Van Cott turned

to him and said:

"Uncle Joseph, here's the man we've been looking for so long."

After President Joseph had looked at me for a moment, he said:

"Young man, we want to know if you are willing to take a mission.

If you have any excuses to make, though, you may take them to the

President's office."

I replied, "Brother Young, I have no excuses to make. I will endeavor

to go whenever I am wanted."

I have since been led to marvel, and to thank my Heavenly Father, that

the authorities did not drop my name from the list of missionaries at

that time, instead of persisting in the search for me. No doubt it has

shaped my life, and given me a blessing which will endure beyond this

mortality.

I could not be present in the Tabernacle on the following Monday when

the call was made, and therefore did not know to what mission I was

assigned, until some over-zealous friends rushed into the place where

I was employed, and informed me that I was called to Australasia, and

offered me their sympathy.

During the remainder of the week I was the recipient of innumerable

condolences. One brother said to me:

"That is the hardest mission in the world. No Elders are there now, and

some of the men who were last called to labor in that field--educated

and experienced preachers--returned in ten months utterly discouraged,

and reported that no satisfactory result could be accomplished in that

region."

Another brother said:

"I would rather be called to go into Montana and preach to the miners."

Another said:

"As good a Mormon as I am, I would rather go to Purgatory and preach to

the spirits in prison there than to take your mission, Thomas."

And finally another one (who has since suffered martyrdom in the

penitentiary)--a prominent business man of Salt Lake, by the way--said:

"The kind of missionary needed in that land is a man like Orson Pratt;"

implying very strongly that inexperienced persons like myself might

better stay at home than to make a useless attempt to convert the cold

and skeptical people in Australia and New Zealand to a knowledge of the

gospel.

While I had made up my mind to endeavor, by the help of the Lord,

to perform my duty; remarks of this kind could not help but make me

despondent. I had been very much surprised, and somewhat shocked,

I will confess, when the announcement was made to me of the nature

of my mission; and these injudicious condolences intensified my

self-distrust, and made me feel as if my trip would be anything but

pleasant to myself and advantageous to the cause. But happily all

my friends were not of this class. After a few days, and when I was

beginning to feel considerably cast down, Elder John Van Cott met me,

and said:

"Thomas, I hear that you have been having some of Job's friends to

comfort you. Never mind, my boy; go and fill your mission, and you will

be blessed in your labor. When I was called to go to Scandinavia I and

others felt that it would be a hard mission for me--if not a useless

one. But the Lord has wrought it into a blessing for me; because I can

travel through the length and breadth of this Territory, and in every

settlement I can find a friend."

Within a week after the time we were called, Brother May and myself

went to the Council House to be set apart for our labor. Fifty-two

Elders, I think, were there the same day to obtain their blessing.

We were among the last. In fact all the others had received their

ordination and had gone before any attention was paid to us. Apostles

Charles C. Rich, Orson Pratt and Lorenzo Snow were there attending to

this labor: and when the last of the other missionaries had departed,

Brother Rich turned to me and said:

"Well, Thomas, you are going to quit selling shoes, and going to preach

the gospel, are you?"

I answered, "Yes, sir; I shall try."

They enquired unto what mission we were called; and learning that we

were going to distant and abandoned Australasia, they all expressed

great interest in our welfare, and they sat down with us and talked

very kindly for some little time.

I had watched the blessings of the other missionaries, and had noticed

that the Apostles each took his turn in ordaining the young Elders

to their calling. I was acquainted with Apostles Rich and Pratt, but

not with Apostle Snow; and I earnestly desired that one of the two

former should bless me. So I had located myself in the position where I

thought Brother Rich would reach me in his turn. However, their visit

with us had disarranged their plan; and when the conversation was ended

one of them enquired:

"Whose turn is it to ordain this Elder?"

The result was that Brother Snow was called upon to ordain me. At the

moment I was disappointed; for I realized how grave a responsibility I

was going forth to meet, and I fancied I could gain greater strength

and blessing under the hands of one of the Apostles with whom I had

been acquainted for years, than under the hands of a stranger. But the

result banished that disappointment. Brother Snow sensed our peculiar

situation, and he blessed me with a power and spirit which thrilled my

whole being. Before he had concluded his words the tears were coursing

down my cheeks like rain. As if the words were uttered yesterday, I

remember some promises which he made to me:

"From the moment that you leave these valleys until you return, the

angels of the Almighty shall be with you. When you travel by land or

by sea, though dangers may beset you on the right hand and on the

left, the power of the Almighty shall protect you. Though death may

stare you in the face, the angels of the Lord will warn you and shield

you. Though the enemies of the truth may plot against you, their evil

designs shall be made known to you by the angels of the Lord, and if

you heed their warning you shall be protected. When even your brethren

shall desert you and turn against you, and your way shall seem to be

hedged up, you will find a blessing given you from the Lord, for He

will be your friend. And you will see the day when you will have no

friend with the power to aid you, other than your Heavenly Father,

in all the land where you are sojourning. But we promise you that

because of your faith you shall be brought triumphant through these

tribulations, and shall be brought to your home again in safety

and with the approbation of the Priesthood and the blessing of the

Almighty. And you shall live to see the day when your labors in that

far-off land will bear good fruit."

Every word of that prophetic blessing has been fulfilled in a most

wonderful manner. I believe that the Lord put these things into Brother

Snow's mind, and that He gave me these promises to comfort and sustain

me; and that in the little disappointment which I felt at not receiving

my blessing under the hands of Apostle Rich or Apostle Pratt, the Lord

had really His own wise purpose to accomplish.

A week previous to the date fixed for our departure we were at

President Taylor's office to learn if he had any special instruction

for us. We hoped and expected that he would outline our work or that we

might have some particular rule of guidance in that distant and lonely

land. But the President's only word was:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the

Kingdom of God there."

Three times we asked our question:

"Are there any special instructions for us?"

And three times we received the answer in the President's well-known

impressive manner:

"Yes, brethren, we want you to go to Australasia, and build up the

Kingdom of God there."

Elder May looked at him with amazement in his eyes; and certainly if my

face indicated my feeling, it betrayed the utmost surprise.

Was this all? President Taylor was the Prophet of God on earth; and we

were inexperienced Elders going to a land nearly ten thousand miles

away from home, to labor in a mission which had been abandoned by older

and more learned men than we were. Naturally, we expected to hear what

we must do when we reached Australia; how we must live; how approach

the people; and how apportion our time to the various districts of that

vast field.

And yet our interview was ended. President Taylor's manner and

words--though very kind, and even fatherly, were decisive; and we

withdrew in some disappointment. When we got out on the street we

looked at each other in a most woe begone manner. I do not know when I

felt more forlorn or helpless than at that hour.

But we lived and learned to bless that significant sentence, which

President Taylor uttered in his wisdom, and by the inspiration of

the Spirit. It became to us better, far better, than a book full of

the "special instructions" which we had coveted. Whenever we were

discouraged, or torn by doubt, or oppressed by fear; we had our guide:

"Build up the Kingdom of God in those lands!"

And prayer to God invariably showed us the right means to reach that

result. If we had been dependent upon a certain method of gospel

presentation, and less dependent upon our Heavenly Father, I am sure

that we would not have been so greatly blessed as we were in our labors.

We left Zion on Tuesday, May 7th, 1878; and sailed from San Francisco

on Monday, May 13th, 1878, on the steamer, _City of Sydney_. We took

steerage passage, and found ourselves in a motley crowd. There were

about fifty white passengers and one hundred and twenty-five Chinamen

in this part of the ship, and we had a perfect Babel. The Chinamen

kept up their own interminable chattering. And among the whites were

Welshmen, Irishmen, Scotchmen, Jew, Gentile, Infidel: representatives

of every race and of every sect. We even had a dynamiter on board--a

person who claimed friendship with the notorious O'Donovan Rossa of New

York.

The first port we made was Honolulu; where we met Elder Henry P.

Richards, of Salt Lake, and Elder Woodbury, of St. George. They took

us to the houses of the Saints, and we had a dinner of _poi_ and salt

fish, "luxuries" which I tried my best to appreciate.

On Sunday, June 2nd, we passed Sunday Island, in the South Pacific.

That night we retired to rest about ten o'clock. After eight hours

sleep we arose--and found that it was Tuesday morning at six o'clock.

We had sailed across the line which marks the beginning of the day,

and had lost our twenty-four hours. I greatly regretted this loss of

Monday, and never felt entirely reconciled to it during the two years

that I was away. Fortunately for my peace of mind, on our return we

made two Fridays on the same spot; and I allowed my gain of Friday to

cancel my loss of Monday.

We entered Auckland harbor on Wednesday, June 5th; and sailed into

Sydney Bay at half past two o'clock on Wednesday morning a week later.

We remained in the lower bay during quarantine examination; and later

in the morning the _City of Sidney_ steamed up to the central quay,

arriving at her birth about eleven o'clock. Several hundred people

were on the shore awaiting the arrival of the steamer. They were all

complete strangers to me, and I did not expect anyone to meet us. But

I saw in the crowd one man whom I instantly knew to be a member of

the Church. I turned to point him out to Brother May, but found my

companion absent. However, I watched this man attentively, feeling

certain that he had come to find us, and that he was one of our

brethren. The event proved my supposition to be correct. When he came

on board the vessel he asked the steward for two passengers by the name

of May and Shreeve. As soon as he spoke I stepped up to him and told

him that I was one of the persons wanted. We shook hands; and I found

him to be Brother J. Nichols.

We went to his house in Sydney, and were very kindly received.

During the next several days we were engaged in a reorganization of

the branch, which had become somewhat demoralized by neglect and by

inattention of members.

On the 16th day of July, Elder May went to Melbourne; and we did not

meet again for more than two years. It was not in our original plan

to be separated for so long a time; but subsequent circumstances made

that lengthy separation apparently necessary. When we looked over the

field after reorganizing the Sydney Branch we discovered that it was

entirely too large for us to cover within a reasonable time, if we

remained together; and, though we disliked to part company, we felt

that by taking separate fields we could cover twice as much ground in

a given length of time as by both traveling together. We therefore

arranged that Brother May should go down to Melbourne, where he had

some relatives, and thence to Tasmania; while I should remain in New

South Wales until the following December. About the close of the year

we should both go to New Zealand and together visit the branch of

the Church there, and endeavor to enlarge the work in that locality.

But this plan, for good reasons, was never consummated entirely; and

I was parted from the companion whom I had learned to love, and who

was the only close friend that I could hope to have on earth in that

Hemisphere--from the time of his departure from Sydney until the hour

when I set foot on the steamer's deck to return home.