a strange land; and we soon found that the mob spirit was here as well as in Missouri, for it was not long before we were mobbed by near twenty men, who surrounded the house in the night, and terrified the family very much; however, we succeeded in driving them away. After which, we continued our journey until we arrived at Brother Utley's, in Benton county, a neighborhood where Brothers Patten and Woodruff were mobbed some years ago. We soon made our business known to all the Saints, who said they would use every effort to be on hand with their money and means--some in the fall, others in the spring. We received from Brother West twenty-eight dollars to bear our expenses; and also from others, acts of kindness which will never be forgotten.

About this time our minds were seized with an awful foreboding-horror seemed to have laid his grasp upon us-we lay awake night after night, for we could not sleep. Our forebodings increased, and we felt sure that all was not right; yet we continued preaching until the Lord showed us that the Saints would be driven from Missouri. We then started home, and, on arriving at Wyatt's Mills, which was on our return, we were told, that, if we preached there, it should cost us our lives. We gave out an appointment at the house of Sister Foster, a wealthy widow. She advised us to give it up; but, as she had no fears for herself, her property or family, we concluded to fulfil our appointment. The hour of meeting came, and many attended. Cousin George preached about an hour, during which time a man, named Fitch, came in at the head of twelve other mobbers, who had large, hickory clubs, and they sat down with their hats on. When Cousin George took his seat, I arose and addressed them for an hour and a half, during which time, I told them that I was a patriot-that I was free-that I loved my country-that I loved liberty-that I despised both mobs and mobbers-that no gentleman, or Christian at heart, would ever be guilty of such things or countenance them. At this the mob pulled off their hats, laid down their clubs, and listened with almost breathless attention.

After meeting, Mr. Fitch came to us and said that he was ashamed of his conduct, and would never do the like again, that he had been misinformed about us by some religious bigots.

We continued our journey until we reached the town of

Columbus, Hickman county, Kentucky. Here we put up with Captain Robinson, formerly an officer in the army, who treated us very kindly, assuring us that we were welcome to stay at his house until a boat should come, if it were three months. While here a company of thirteen hundred Cherokee Indians encamped on the bank of the river, to wait for ferry privileges. They felt deeply wounded at leaving their native country for the west. They said they were leaving a fine country, rich in mineral, but the whites knew very little of its value. They excited our sympathies very much; little did I think that my own wife and helpless babes were objects of greater sympathy than these.

At length a boat came along, and we went on board. We had to pay all our money (five dollars) for fare, and eat and lie among negroes, as we took a deck passage. About ninety miles from St. Louis our boat got aground, where it lay for three days. During this time we had nothing to eat but a little parched corn. They finally gave up the boat and left her. We went to the clerk and got two dollars of our money back, after which we went on board of a little boat that landed us in St. Louis the next morning. Here we found Elder Orson Pratt; he told us that Joseph was a prisoner with many others, and that David Patten was killed, giving us a long and sorrowful account of the sufferings of the Saints, which filled our hearts with sorrow.

The next morning we started again on our journey. When we arrived at Huntsville, we stopped at the house of George Lyman to rest, he being uncle to Cousin George, whose feet had now become very sore with traveling. Here we heard dreadful tales concerning our friends in Daviess county, that they were all murdered, and that my brothers, Joseph and Hyrum, were shot with a hundred balls.

We had not been long in Huntsville till the mob made a rally to use us up with the rest of the Smiths, and, at the earnest request of our friends, we thought best to push on. The wind was in our faces, the ground was slippery, it was night, and very dark, nevertheless we proceeded on our journey. Traveling twenty-two miles, we came to the Chariton river, which we found frozen over, but the ice too weak to bear us, and the boat on the west side of the river. We went to the next ferry. Finding that there was no boat here, and that in the next neighborhood a man's brains were

beat out for being a "Mormon," we returned to the first ferry, and tried by hallooing to raise the ferryman on the opposite side of the river, but were not able to awaken him. We were almost benumbed with cold, and to warm ourselves we commenced scuffling and jumping, we then beat our feet upon the logs and stumps, in order to start a circulation of blood; but at last Cousin George became so cold and sleepy that he said he could not stand it any longer, and lay down. I told him he was freezing to death; I rolled him on the ground, pounded and thumped him; I then cut a stick and said I would thrash him. At this he got up and undertook to thrash me, this stirred his blood a little, but he soon lay down again; however, the ferryman in a short time came over, and set us on our own side of the river. We then traveled on until about breakfast time, when we stopped at the house of a man, who, we afterwards learned, was Senator Ashby, that commanded the mob at Haun's Mill. That night we stayed at one of the bitterest of mobocrats, by the name of Fox, and started the next morning without breakfast. Our route lay through a wild prairie, where there was but very little track, and only one house in forty miles. The northwest wind blew fiercely in our faces, and the ground was so slippery that we could scarcely keep our feet, and when the night came on, to add to our perplexity, we lost our way. Soon after which, I became so cold that it was with great difficulty I could keep from freezing. We also became extremely thirsty; however, we found a remedy for this, by cutting through ice three inches thick. While we were drinking we heard a cow bell, this caused our hearts to leap for joy, and we arose and steered our course towards the sound. We soon entered a grove, which sheltered us from the wind, and we felt more comfortable. In a short time we came to a house, where George was well acquainted; here we were made welcome and kindly entertained. We laid down to rest about two o'clock in the morning, after having traveled one hundred and ten miles in two days and two nights. After breakfast I set out for Far West, leaving George sick with our hospitable friend. When I arrived, I was fortunate enough to find my family alive and in tolerable health, which was more than I could have expected, considering the scenes of persecution through which they had passed.

(To be continued.)

A SKETCH AND SAYINGS OF BISHOP

EDWARD HUNTER.

BY ELDER JOHN NICHOLSON.

Bishop Edward Hunter was a large, portly man, of pleasing appearance. His forehead was expansive in both directions, being broad and high. His face was full and well proportioned, the nose acquiline, eyes bright, and expressive of mental penetration. His hair, which was plentiful, was fluffed up from the forehead. He wore a full beard. The aspect of his countenance was strikingly benevolent.

Everybody who knew the Bishop will remember one of his characteristic expressions, a sermon in itself, often uttered in the assemblies of the Saints: "Pay your tithes and offerings, and be blest."

One of his prominent traits was the ability to discern the characteristics and tendencies of men. An instance: A young man, with whom he was unacquainted, called upon him with regard to some business matter. He evidently took his measure, because he after wards enquired of another person as to who the young man was. The individual interrogated, purposely withheld the name of the object of the enquiry for a while, in order to get a description of him from the Bishop. He got it: "Active young fellow; all sail and no ballast." The aptness of the remark was so strikingly correct, in the judgment of the listener, that he could not hide his amusement.

He seldom permitted himself to get ruffled when matters were not going to suit him. One such instance, however, is remembered by one of his friends: He had just driven up to the gate of his residence, when he suddenly dropped the lines from

his hand and said, with some degree of energy: "Father: jostle things about and get them into shape, as soon as you can, if you will." Then, as if it occurred to him that he was somewhat overurgent, he said, in a softer tone: "But I can wait."

He had the unusual faculty of being able to think on more than one subject at the same time, and only speak regarding one of them. In early times, in Utah, a man called upon him to ascertain if he could, by some means, obtain a couple of wagons. The Bishop turned the conversation to a subject entirely different from the object of the caller, but he evidently had been thinking it over, as he exclaimed suddenly: "No wagons, no wagons," at the same time making it clear that, so far as he was concerned, the interview was ended.

He was

This worthy man was above pretense or hypocrisy. so much the other way that occasionally his statements were somewhat embarrassing. A sample: A gentleman visiting Utah from the East, had an interview with him. In the course of conversation the Bishop explained some of the principles of his faith. His explanations were received with credence and respect, the listener being probably impressed. The same gentleman accompanied by a companion, met him again. The visitor said: "Now, Bishop Hunter, I would like you to tell my friend what you told me." The reply came without hesitation: "No, no, you're honest. I like to talk to you. I don't wish to talk to him."

The mental construction of the Bishop was such that he would, by a rapid process, notice and be impressed by an object or condition associated with something else of much more importance, and permanently retain it in his memory. He was, for instance, relating to the writer some of his early experience, in times of trouble, previous to the exodus from Nauvoo. He and others, mounted on horseback, were on some expedition. On their way, they were unexpectedly intercepted by a mounted group of anti-"Mormon" mobocrats. The two parties were separated by a creek, on the banks of which they halted and confronted each other. The leader of the mob at once attracted Bishop Hunter's attention, principally because, as he said, "He had a cast in his eye, and a hole in his hat." In the course of the relation of the story, the Bishop would occasionally repeat the statement about