Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow. Eliza R. Snow
nurse and night watcher, for the people of the house were so displeased with me for discharging the doctor that they were but little disposed to assist, and I was as little disposed to trouble them, although in every other respect they were hospitable and kind, and in fact for years had been quite partial to our family. But the dish; it must be precisely after the pattern, and could I do it? Certainly; for "what has been done can be done," and I am not afraid to try. The ingredients, as he named them, were all at my command, and, after listening anxiously to his description, I went to work and a dish was produced, but alas! it was not THE dish—"it did not taste like the bachelor dish." Try, try again, was my motto, and after listening attentively to a more critical description, I went at it again, and although that effort was a pronounced improvement on the first, it was not quite up to the original, but the third time trying proved a success—not so much from improvement in the skill of the cook as improvement in the appetite of the patient.
The following is copied from his journal: In Adam-ondi-Ahman, while gradually recovering from the effects of a malignant fever which had detained me a fortnight in Far West, under the constant and skilful nursing of my sister Eliza, for some time I was unable to either do, or read much. One day, to while away the slowly passing hours, I took my gun with the intention of indulging in a little amusement in hunting turkeys, with which that section of the country abounded. From boyhood I had been particularly, and I may say strangely attached to a gun. Hunting, in the forests of Ohio, was a pastime that to me possessed the most fascinating attractions. It never occurred to my mind that it was wrong—that indulging in "what was sport to me was death to them;" that in shooting turkeys, squirrels, etc., I was taking life that I could not give; therefore I indulged in the murderous sport without the least compunction of conscience.
But at this time a change came over me. While moving slowly forward in pursuit of something to kill, my mind was arrested with the reflection on the nature of my pursuit—that of amusing myself by giving pain and death to harmless, innocent creatures that perhaps had as much right to life and enjoyment as myself. I realized that such indulgence was without any justification, and feeling condemned, I laid my gun on my shoulder, returned home, and from that time to this have felt no inclination for that murderous amusement. In fact, years had elapsed since the days of boyhood sport, and in the interval I had neither time nor opportunity for reckless indulgence. Education, the leading star of my youth, had so entirely engrossed my ambition that, until the Gospel of the Lord Jesus took possession of my mind, it was the genii before which everything else had to bow; then, almost simultaneously, missionary labors succeeded book studies, and no room was left for sportive scenes.
A spirit of mobocracy, which had previously manifested itself, was continually on the increase all around us, and very naturally suggested to our minds the thought of preparation for defense. The house we lived in, with the plantation on which it stood, father purchased on his arrival, and paid for in full. It was a "double log house," with an alley about three feet wide between the two. In this alley our faithful watchdog was stationed, and we knew that no intruder could possibly reach either door before the dog would give an alarm, which, so far, was very satisfactory. But, to our deep regret, the mobocrats, finding the dog out of sight of the house, shot him down. He had, by his affectionate faithfulness, so won our love and confidence that he almost seemed one of the family—we sincerely mourned his loss, and I assisted my brothers in giving him a formal burial.
Amid the threatenings of mobocrats to either drive or destroy us, a circumstance occurred, which, though seriously exciting at the time, afterwards afforded us much amusement. One night at about 11 o'clock, we all were suddenly aroused from sleep by the discharge of fire arms, accompanied with loud shouts, apparently about a mile distant. We supposed that our enemies had commenced their depredations by putting their threats into execution, and were making an attack on our people, and the probability was that they would visit us in turn. We immediately began to prepare for defense by barricading the doors and windows, and distributing among all the members of the family such weapons for protection as were available, viz: one sword, two or three guns, pitchforks, axes, shovels and tongs, etc. We proposed that mother take her choice, and she thought that she could do the best execution with the shovel. With no small degree of anxiety, not only for ourselves, but also in behalf of our friends situated at the point from which the exciting sounds proceeded, we kept up a sleepless watch until morning, when intelligence was brought, explaining the cause of the night alarm, as follows: A company of our brethren had been to a distant settlement to accomplish some business requisite in consequence of threatened mob violence, and on their return, having peacefully and successfully accomplished their object, discharged their fire arms, accompanied with a shout expressive of their happy success—resulting in our false alarm and subsequent amusement.
Chapter VI.
Wants to go on Mission.—Elder Butterfield wishes to accompany him.—They go.—Arrive in Far West on the second day.—Father Smith blesses Lorenzo.—Blindness of Thomas B. Marsh.—Leave Far West.—Meet a camp of Brethren at the Missouri River.—Construct a craft.—Started in snow storm down the river.—Perilous times.—Narrow escapes.—A savage band.—Make their escape.—Find camping place in peace.—Leave the boat and travel on foot.—Get lodging at the house of a Mobocrat.—Mobocratic narrative.—A Campbellite Preacher's Politeness.—Courtesy of a Methodist Preacher.—A crowded house.—A Donation just in time.—Saved from a Mob by his pocket Bible.—Other Mobocrats foiled.
The journal speaks: About the first of October of this year (1838), the spirit of my missionary calling pressed so heavily upon my mind, that I longed to engage in its labors. Elder Abel Butterfield, who had accompanied me on a mission in Ohio, proposed to be my traveling companion at this time, and although not having yet fully recovered from the effects of my summer sickness, and had not strength sufficient to endure much fatigue, I felt that I must go. My father and others thought it not prudent, but my trust was in God, and I felt an assurance that He would give me strength and restore me to soundness of health sooner if I went forth depending on Him, than if I remained at home. Accordingly, with the necessary books and a few underclothes packed in my valise, I bid adieu to father, mother, brothers and sisters, and, with Brother Butterfield, started forth to proclaim the word of the Lord to those who had ears to hear. At first I could only walk a short distance before I was compelled to sit down and rest, but my ability to walk gradually increased until I was perfectly restored.
The second day after we started, we arrived in Far West, where we stopped a short time to visit our friends. Father Smith, the Patriarch, gave us his blessing and much good fatherly counsel, and expressed much sympathy for us in connection with our mission through the southern part of Missouri, the immediate field of our prospective labors. At that time the excitement against the Latter-day Saints had been fanned to fever heat in every part of the State, consequently it was more than probable that we should meet with abuse and have to submit to many hardships.
In going the rounds in Far West, we called on Elder Thomas B. Marsh, then President of the Quorum of the Twelve. I think at that time he was indulging a spirit of apostacy, which, not long after, culminated in his severance from the Church. In our conversation with him, our spirits and his did not intermingle, and he seemed utterly blind in relation to the condition of things and the spirit of the times. He expressed unbounded charity for our enemies—said he did not think they intended us much harm—they were not naturally inclined to wickedness, etc. It is a noticeable feature in those who cherish a spirit of apostacy from the light of the Gospel, that they adopt the doctrine of Universalism and think none too wicked for a complete and unconditional salvation.
On leaving Far West, we directed our course to the Missouri River, where we found a camp of our brethren, some of whom were intending to go down the river and return to their homes, somewhere in the southern part of the State. We joined together in constructing a kind of water-craft—it was not a canoe, neither a skiff or raft, and to name it a boat would be preposterous; but, whatever its proper cognomen, its capacity was sufficient to accommodate five men, and, on the seventeenth of October, in the midst of a heavy fall of snow, we launched it, and started on a most perilous passage down the