History of Salt Lake City, Part 103

Author: Tullidge, Edward Wheelock
Publication date: 1886
Publisher: Salt Lake City, Star printing company
Number of Pages: 1194

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small sum we launched forth into the wide world, determining first to visit our native place on our mission, and then such other places as I might be led to by the Holy Spirit.

" We made our way to Cleveland, thirty miles. We then took passage on a schooner for Buffalo, a distance of two hundred miles. We had a fair wind, and the captain, being short of hands, gave me the helm, the sails being all set, and turned in. I steered the vessel most of the day, with no other person on deck. Of course, our passage cost us little besides my labor. Landing in Buffalo, we engaged our passage for Albany on a canal boat, distance, three hundred and sixty miles. This, including board, cost all our money and some articles of clothing.

"Arriving at Rochester I informed my wife that, notwithstanding our passage being paid through the whole distance, yet I must leave the boat and her to pursue her passage to our friends, while I would stop awhile in this region. Why, I did not know; but so it was plainly manifest by the Spirit to me. I said to her, ' we part for a season ; go and visit our friends in our native place ; I will come soon, but how soon I know not ; for I have a work to do in this region of country, and what it is, or how long it will take to perform it, I know not; but I will come when it is performed.'

" My wife would have objected to this, but she had seen the hand of God so plainly manifest in His dealings with me many times, that she dare not oppose the things manifest to me by His spirit.

She, therefore, consented ; and I accompanied her as far as Newark, a small town upwards of one hundred miles from Buffalo, and then took leave of her and of the boat.

"It was early in the morning, just at the dawn of day, I walked ten miles into the country, and stopped to breakfast with a Mr. Wells. I proposed to preach in the evening. Mr. Wells readily accompanied me through the neighborhood to visit the people, and circulate the appointment.

" We visited an old Baptist deacon by the name of Hamlin. After hearing of our appointment for evening, he began to tell of a book, a STRANGE BOOK, a VERY STRANGE BOOK! in his possession, which had been just published. 'This book, he said, purported to have been originally written on plates either of gold or brass, by a branch of the tribes of Israel ; and to have been discovered and translated by a young man near Palmyra, in the State of New York, by the aid of visions, or the ministry of angels. I inquired of him how or where the book was to be obtained. He promised me the perusal of it, at his house the next day, if I would call. I felt a strange interest in the book. I preached that even- ing to a small audience, who appeared to be interested in the truths which I en- deavored to unfold to them in a clear and lucid manner from the Scriptures. Next morning I called at his house, where for the first time, my eyes beheld the ' BOOK OF MORMON,'-that book of books-that record which reveals the antiquities of the 'New World' back to the remotest ages, and which unfolds the destiny of its people and the world for all time to come ;- that Book which contains the fulness of the gospel of a crucified and risen Redeemer ; that Book which reveals a lost remnant of Joseph, and which was the principal means, in the hands of God, of directing the entire course of my future life.

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" I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testi- mony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and trans- lated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food ; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.

" As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and compre- hended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists. My joy was now full, as it were, and I rejoiced suffi- ciently to more than pay me for all the sorrows, sacrifices and toils of my life. I soon determined to see the young man who had been the instrument of its dis- covery and translation.

" I accordingly visited the village of Palmyra, and inquired for the residence of Mr. Joseph Smith. I found it some two or three miles from the village. As I approached the house at the close of the day I overtook a man who was driving some cows, and inquired of him for Mr. Joseph Smith, the translator of the ' Book of Mormon.' He informed me that he now resided in Pennsylvania ; some one hundred miles distant. I inquired for his father, or for any of the family- He told me that his father had gone a journey ; but that his residence was a small house just before me ; and, said he, I am his brother. It was Mr. Hyrum Smith. I informed him of the interest I felt in the book, and of my desire to learn more about it. He welcomed me to his house, and we spent the night together ; for neither of us felt disposed to sleep. We conversed most of the night, during which I unfolded to him much of my experience in my search after truth, and my success so far ; together with that which I felt was lacking, viz : a commissioned priesthood, or apostleship to minister in the ordinances of God."

Parley P. Pratt meets the Prophet Joseph Smith, believes in the " Marvelous work and a wonder," to be accomplished in the "last days," and is ordained to the ministry. It is then he swells his exultant theme in song, afterwards con - piled as the first hymn of the Church :

The morning breaks, the shadows flee; Lo! Zion's standard is unfurled ! The dawning of a brighter day Majestic rises on the world.

The clouds of error disappear Before the rays of truth divine ; The glory, bursting from afar, Wide o'er the nations soon will shine.

The Gentile fulness now comes in, and Israel's blessings are at hand ; Lo! Judah's remnant, cleansed from sin, Shall in their promised Canaan stand.

Jehovah speaks ! let earth give ear, And Gentile nations turn and live ; His mighty arm is making bare, His cov'nant people to receive.

Angels from heaven and truth from earth Have met, and both have record borne ; Thus Zion's light is bursting forth, To bring her ransomed children home.

In these first raptures of his opening views of Israel ransomed and the Jews

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again under Jehovah's favor, Mr. Pratt repeats the subject in a yet more trium- phant strain :

Come, O Thou King of Kings ! We've waited long for Thee. With healing in Thy wings, To set thy people free ; Come, thou desire of nations, come, Let Israel now be gathered home.

Another hymn is of a similar strain :

Let Judah rejoice in this glorious news, For the sound of glad tidings will soon reach the Jews, And save them far, far from oppression and fear, And de iv'rance proclaim to their sons far and near.

Long, long thou hast wandered an exile forlorn, And all that have seen thee have laughed thee to scorn, Thon naught but affliction and sorrow hast seen, Hertrending and cheerless thy pithway has been.

But the days of thy mourning are near at an end, When Messiah will come, thy Redeemer and friend, To cheer thee, and bless thee, and dry up thy tears, And calm thy sad bosom, and chase all thy fears. * Thy olive shall flourish, thy fig tree shall grow, And with wine, milk and honey thy mountains shall flow, 'Neath the fig tree and vine, in their cool spreading shade, Thou shalt worship thy God, and none make thee afraid.

Thy Messiah will come, and His right will maintain, Over thee and all nations in majesty reign, Thou shalt with his presence forever be blest, And from pain, grief and sorrow eternally rest.

Orson Spencer, the first chancellor of the Deseret University, was one of the greatest theological writers of the Mormon Church. "Spencer's Letters " are fa- mous. They were written in answer to a " letter from the Rev. William Crowel, A. M., to Orson Spencer, A. B." The first of these letters bear date as early as October, 1842, but they extend over a period of correspondence to December, 1847. The author afterwards compiled them in a book, in the preface of which it is said :

" The author was extensively known in the New England Middle States, as a preacher of the Baptist denomination. Reference for his character is given to his Excellency George N. Briggs, Governor of the State of Massachusetts, by whom he was once invited to take the pastoral charge of the church where His Ex- cellency resided, and of which he was a member ; also to G. Reade, Esq., Con- necticut ; and Eliphalet Nott, D. D., L. L. D., president of Union College, New York, under whose presidency he graduated in 1824 ; and also to N. Kendrick, D. D., president of Hamilton Literary and Theological College, from whence the author graduated in 1829. The records of both these institutions will show that the author held the first grade of honorable distinction at the time he left them."

" Spencer's Letters " rank as the first standard theological work of the Church, but is not of that class of literature from which a page can be culled to the advan- tage of the author and his argument.

Orson Pratt was the chief theological writer of the Church. Hundreds of

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thousands of his series of tracts have been in circulation in Great Britain at a time ; and in those series he has discussed theology and philosophy with the learned, as well as expounded all the branches of the doctrines of his church. In point of learning, however, his works on mathematics and astronomy rank him the highest. He is, in this scientific department, recognized by the professors both of Great Britain and America, who have read his works ; and not unlikely Orson Pratt will yet be claimed by the scientific world as one of its lights. His " Key to the Universe " Professor Pratt considered his masterpiece.

Passing from Utah's learned authors to general literature and poetry, Eliza R. Snow looms up as the long-admired star of her people. She has been their poetess and high priestess a full generation.

When quite young she commenced writing for publication in various jour- nals, which she continued to do for several years, over assumed signatures-wish- ing to be useful as a writer, and yet unknown except by intimate friends.

" During the contest between Greece and Turkey," she says, " I watched with deep interest the events of the war, and after the terrible destruction of Missolonghi, by the Turks, I wrote an article entitled ' The Fall of Missolonghi.' Soon after its publication, the deaths of Adams and Jefferson occurred on the same memorable Fourth of July, and I was requested, through the press, to write their requiem, to which I responded, and found myself ushered into conspicuity. Sub- sequently I was awarded eight volumes of Godey's Lady's Book for a first prize poem published in one of the journals."

But she is even more sensitive to the heroic and patriotic than to the poetic -- at least she has most self-gratification in lofty and patriotic themes.

" That men are born poets," she continues, " is a common adage. I was born a patriot,-at least a warm feeling of patriotism inspired my childish heart, and mingled in my earliest thoughts, as evinced in many of the earliest produc- tions of my pen. I can even now recollect how, with beating pulse and strong emotion I listened when but a small child, to the tales of the Revolution.

" My grandfather, on my mother's side, when fighting for the freedom of our country, was taken prisoner by British troops and confined in a dreary cell and so scantily fed that when his fellow-prisoner by his side died from exhaustion, he re- ported him to the jailor as sick in bed, in order to obtain the amount of food for both-keeping him covered in their blankets as long as he dared to remain with a decaying body.

" This, with many similar narratives of Revolutionary sufferings recounted by my grand-parents, so deeply impressed my mind, that as I grew up to woman- hood I fondly cherished a pride for the flag which so proudly waved over the graves of my brave ancestors."

It was the poet's soul of this illustrious Mormon woman that first enchanted the Church with inspired song, and her Hebraic faith and life have given some- thing of their peculiar tone to the entire Mormon people and especially the sister- hood just as Joseph Smith and Brigham Young gave the types and institutions to our modern Israel.

She has written several volumes of poems, and has edited the autobiography 58

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of her brother Lorenzo Snow. Of all her poems and hymns the following, entitled " Invocation, or the Eternal Father and Mother," is pronounced the gem :

Oh! my Father, thou that dwellest In the high and holy place ; When shall I regain thy presence, And again behold thy face ?

In thy glorious habitation, Did my spirit once reside ? In my first primeval childhood, Was I nurtured by thy side ?

For a wise and glorious purpose, Thou hast placed me here on earth ; And withheld the recollection Of my former friends and birth.

Yet oft-times a secret something, Whisper'd, " You're a stranger here ;" And I felt that I had wandered From a more exalted sphere,

J'had learned to call thee Father, Through thy spirit from on high ; But until the key of knowledge Was restored, I knew not why.

In the heavens are parents single ? No; the thought makes reason stare ; Truth is reason ; truth eternal Tells me I've a Mother there.

When I leave this frail existence- When I lay this mortal by, Father, Mother, may I meet you In your royal court on high.

Then at length, when I've completed All you sent me forth to do, With your mutual approbation, Let me come and dwell with you.

Her tender funeral hymns have solaced the hearts of thousands of the be- reaved of her people. "At the Sea of Galilee," is one of her poems written in the Holy Land :

I have stood on the shore of the beautiful sea, The renowned and immortalized Galilee, When t'was wrapp'd in repose, at eventide, Like a royal queen in her conscious pride.

No sound was astir-not a murmuring wave- Not a motion was seen, but the tremulous lave, A gentle heave of the water's crest- As the infant breathes on a mother's breast.

I thought of the present-the past : it seemed That the silent Sea, with instruction teem'd; For olten, indeed, the heart can hear What never, in sound has approached the ear.

Full oft has silence been richly fraught With treasures of wisdom, and stores of thought, With sacred, heavenly whisperings, too, That are sweeter than roses, and honey dew. . *

Again, when the shades of night, were gone, In the clear, bright rays of the morning dawn, I walked on the bank of this selfsame Sea, Where once, our Redeemer was wont to be.

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Where, " Lord sive, or I perish," was Peter's prayer, Befitting the weak and the faithless elsewhere. And here while admiring this Scriptural Sea, Th' bold vista of Time, brought th' past up to me ;

Emboss'd with events when the Prince of Life, Endured this world's hatred-its envy and strife ; When, in Him, the Omnipotent was revealed, And, by Him, the wide breach of the law, was healed.

The gates, He unbarred, and led the way, Through the shadow of death, to the courts of day ; And " led captivity captive," when " He ascended on high, and gave gifts unto men."

Sarah E. Carmichael, a gifted daughter of Mormon parents, introduced an- other class of poetry. Here is a gem of the first water, entitled,

THE STOLEN SUNBEAM.

There's a light that burns with a quenchless glow, In the wide, deep caverns of earth below; Like the fire that lives on the Parsee's shrine

Is the amber torch of the lighted mine. Burning forever, steadily bright ; Flickering never, a changeless light;

Proud and passionless, still and fair;

Burning forever without a glare;

Burning forever, so still and deep,

A quenchless flame in a dreamless sleep ;

And Time's broad ocean may roll its waves

While space hath room for the centuries' graves,

It hath not billows to dim the shine

Of the wizard fagot that lights the mine.

Beware! beware! of a starless beam ! The nightmare spell of a miser's dream. Emotionless ever, its subtle art

Tugs at the strings of the world's strong heart. The stars of the earth at its bidding stoop;

Awed by its menace, life-roses droop ; And the fairest blossoms that earth can twine Fade near the taper that lights the mine.

The Fallen looked on the world and sneered :

" I guess, he muttered, "why God is feared ; For eyes of mortals are fain to shun The midnight heaven that hath no sun. I will stand on the height of the hills and wait Where the day goes out at the western gate, And reaching up to its crown will tear From its plumes of glory the brightest there ; With the stolen ray I will light the sod, And turn the eyes of the world from God."

He stood on the height when the sun went down- He tore one plume from the day's bright crown ; The proud orb stooped till he touched its brow, And the marks of that touch are on it now, And the flush of its anger forever more Burns red when it passes the western door! The broken feather above him whirled, In flames of torture around him curled, And he dashed it down from the snowy height In broken masses of quivering light.

Ah! more than terrible was the shock Where the burning splinters struck wave and rock; The green earth shuddered, and shrank, and paled, The wave sprang up and the mountain quailed. 1.ook on the hills-let the scars they bear Measure the pain of that hour's despair.

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The Fallen watche I w'nie the whirlwind tenned The pulsing splinters that pleased the sind ; Sullen he watched, while the hissing wives Bore them away to the ocean elles; Sullen he watched, while the shining ril's Throbbed through the hearts of the rocky hills ; Loudly he lunghe 1: " Is the worid not m ne ? Proudly the links of its chain shall shine; Lighted with gems shill its dungeons be ; But the pride of its beauty shall kneel to me !"

That splintered light in the earth grew cold, And the dietion of Mortals hath called it " GOLD!"

There is little among the breathings of the nation's poets, more rare than the " Stolen Sunbeam " of our own " Lizzie " Carmichael, as we were wont to call her in her bright maiden days, when this was written. Her " Moonrise on the Wasatch," is not less beautiful as a poem, yet not so dazzling in splendor. An- other, entitled " Stanzas," is toned with the same rich fancy and a touch of exquis. ite tenderness. The opening poem of her book-" April Flowers," is painfully suggestive of our gifted sister's life :

Pa'e flowers, pale flowers, ye came too soon ; The North, with icy breath, Hath whispered hoarsely through the skies A word that spoke of death. Ye came too soon-the Spring's first glance, In this cold clime of ours, Is but the sheen of Winter's lance- Ye came too soon pale flowers !

Pale, rain-drenched flowers, ye came to greet The young Spring's earliest call, As untaught hearts leap forth to meet Loved footsteps in the hall ; Ye came-beneath, the snow-wreath lies ; Above, the storm-cloud lowers ; Around, the breath of winter sighs- Ye came too soon, pale flowers.

Pale, blighted flowers, the summer time Will smile on brighter leaves ; They will not wither in their prime, Like a young heart that grieves ; But the impulsive buds that dire The chill of April showers Breathe woman-love's low martyr prayer- I kiss your leaves, pale flowers,

Mrs. Emily Woodmansee, a companion poetess of Sarah E. Carmichael, was endowed with a different tone of mind to that of her friend, yet gifted in her line of devotional poetry. The following verses from her pen are in another vein :

WHAT DOES IT MATTER TO ME?

If a storm cloud be over us riven, The very next thing that we know - Right over us bending- A glory transcending, 1s the promise I, the beautiful Bow. So if justice be from us withheld ; Or there's something we'd like that we see ; If we can't now obtain it, In time we may gain it, I won't let it mutter to me.

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Dame Fortune herself, like a see-saw, Pulls even her pets up, and down ; While some are lamenting, She's something inventing- To lift them to wealth or renown. But 'tis best not to trust to her always,

" Work and wait," to success, 'tis the key, What if fortune be blind ? Or to others more kind. Need it matter to you or to me ?

If you needs must appear out of date- To hold up your head have a care ; If somebody dashing- Should snub you in passing, Don't wilt 'neath their insolent stare.

Some, lacking more wisdom than style, By dress, count your class and degree ; Shall we ape their condition, To win recognition ? What matters their notice to me ?

For thanks be to Providence! surely We've friends, who are sterling as steel, Who ask not our station, Our income, or nation- Caring less for our looks than our weal ;

While such are vouchsafed us we will not- We cannot disconsolate be ; Whilst for friends we are grateful, Folks haughty and hateful- Matter little or nothing to me.

Oh ! what should they matter indeed ; If our hands and our hearts are but clean, 'There's One high above us, Will own us, and love us- Though lowly our pathway has been.

And so, when my body shall rest, In peace with the quiet and free, If I slumber protected, By marble erected Or no, will it matter to me?

And yet, I would like that a few Should tenderly think o'er my dust, Here lies a frail woman, Like all the world human, Who was honest and true to her trust.

In place of a monument grand- Plant near me a flower or tree ; So friendship undying, May mark where I'm lying, But I doubt if 'twill matter to me.

Mrs. Hannah Tapfield King has long worthily sustained her reputation as a Salt Lake authoress. She was known in literary circles in England, and was on corresponding terms with the celebrated English poetess, Eliza Cook. Her best lit- erature is in the line of biographical romances, literal in their subject and narra- tive, but dressed with the author's admiring fancy. Such are her interesting stories-" The Diamond Necklace," " The Victorian Era," " Josephine, Wife of Napoleon," and " Mary, the Bride of Suffolk "-sister of Henry VIII. of Eng- land. The latter is a rare specimen of old English romance and composition.

Mrs. Emeline B. Wells is not only one of our Salt Lake authors, but is also the editor and manager of the Woman's Exponent, which has for many years been sustained by her literary enthusiasm and business perseverance. The following poem, entitled, " The Wife to her Husband," is a tender fragment from her pen :

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THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.

It seems to me that should I die, And this poor body cold and lifeless lie, And thou should'st touch my lips with thy warm breath, The life-blood quicken'd in each sep'rate vein, Would wildly, madly rushing back again,

Bring the glad spirit from the isle of death.

It seems to me that were I dead, And thou in sympathy should'st o'er me shed Some tears of sorrow, or of sad regret, That every pearly drop that fell in grief, Would bud, or blossom, bursting into leaf, To prove immortal love could not forget.

I do believe that round my grave, When the cool, fragrant, evening zephyrs wave, Should'st thou in friendship linger near the spot, And breathe some tender words in memory, That this poor heart in grateful constancy, Would softly whisper back some loving thought.

I do believe that should I pass, Into the unknown land of happiness, And thou should'st wish to see my face once more, That in my earnest longing after thee, I would come forth in joyful ecstacy, And once again gaze on thee as before.

I do believe my faith in thee, Stronger than life, an anchor firm to be, Planted in thy integrity and worth, A perfect trust, implicit and secure ; That will all trials and all griefs endure, And bless and comfort me while here on earth

I do believe who love hath known. Or sublime friendship's purest, highest tone, Hath tasted of the cup of ripest bliss, And drank the choicest wine life hath to give, Ifath known the truest joy it is to live; What blessings rich or great compared to this ?

I do believe true love to be An element that in its tendency, Is elevating to the human mind ; An intuition which we recognize As foretaste of immortal Paradise, Through which the soul will be refined.

To Mrs. Crocheron was awarded the prize for a Christmas story published in the Contributor of January, 1883. She has also published a little volume of poems.

William Gill Mills, an author of more than local fame, is a native of the Isle of Man, and received a classical education in his native island. Previous to his emigration to Utah, he obtained considerable reputation as an author.

A number of Mr. Mills' early poems were published in the Millennial Star and also in the Deseret News; and several very fine hymns from his pen were compiled in the various editions of the " Latter-day Saints' Hymn Book."

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History of Salt Lake City, Part 103

Author: Tullidge, Edward Wheelock Publication date: 1886 Publisher: Salt Lake City, Star printing company Number of Pages: 1194

Author: Tullidge, Edward Wheelock
Publication date: 1886
Publisher: Salt Lake City, Star printing company
Number of Pages: 1194