The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helpful Visions, by O. F. Whitney and Kennon and Thomas A. Shreeve and Ben E. Rich This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Helpful Visions The Fourteenth Book of the Faith-Promoting Series Author: O. F. Whitney Kennon Thomas A. Shreeve Ben E. Rich Release Date: July 5, 2015 [EBook #49362] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELPFUL VISIONS *** Produced by Holly Astle, Mormon Texts Project Intern (http://mormontextsproject.org/) 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 thinki...