Indian Sketches from the Journals of T.D. Brown and Jacob Hamblin

INDIAN SKETCHES FROM THE JOURNALS OF T. D. BROWN AND JACOB HAMBLIN

By Juanita Brooks

Since the Mormon Church was founded, its leaders have had an especial interest in the Indians. The Book of Mormon, accepted as scripture by all the faithful, tells the story of the origin of the American Indian, declares that they are of the "blood of Israel," and holds out the promise that they shall yet become a white and delightsome people. The fulfillment of this promise lay in part in their taking on the ways of civilization and becoming members of the Mormon Church.

A practical man of affairs, Brigham Young had thier reasons also for establishing friendly relations with the Indians. The dream of a great inland empire and the hope of establishing a self-sustaining society which would be a literal Kingdom of God upon the earth, both demanded that there be a corridor to the Pacific Ocean in order that converts and their goods might travel by water to the coast and come to Utah from California.

As soon as the first large company of Saints was settled in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, Brigham Young sent exploring parties in every direction to determine the location of water and suitable sites for settlement. In every case those in charge were to become acquainted with the natives of the area and set up friendly relations, since the theory was that "it is cheaper to feed them than to fight them." Missionaries were also counseled to secure Indian children who might otherwise be taken by the current slave trade into Mexico, and instead of making them slaves give them food, clothing, and shelter. They should see also that the children were sent to school and taught the Gospel.

Several groups of Indian missionaries were sent out to different places, but only the mission established on the Santa Clara Creek in southern Utah could be called successful. These young men received their call at the October conference of 1853, and were given until the next spring to make preparation. Twenty-five men left on April 14 in a train of ten wagons, eight of which were drawn by horses or mules and two by ox teams. They were loaded with flour and other provisions and tools; the missionaries had among them nineteen guns and full ammunition in order that they might supply their meat. For milk they drove a herd of seven cows.

Of the group, only three were older than forty years, while three others were still in their teens, and all but two of those remaining were in their early twenties.

THOMAS D. BROWN

Thomas D. Brown, who listed himself as being forty-six years old, married, father of two children, and a president of the seventies' quorum in Salt Lake City, was the recorder for the mission.

He was born December 16, 1807, in Stewarton, Ayrshire, Scotland, and baptized into the Mormon Church on June 9, 1844. By 1852 Brown was living in Salt Lake City and operating a mercantile establishment on the east side of Main Street, near the Salt Lake House. His home must have been one of the best for its time, because George A. Smith, writing of the establishment of the Deseret Philharmonic Society, stated that "Elder James Smithies is their president and their meetings for the present are held in Elder T. D. Brown's large room."

That Thomas D. Brown was a man of wide skills is shown by the fact that he could survey land, compose a memorial to her Majesty, Queen Victoria, and write letters for Brigham Young. But nowhere else are his personality and training more evident than in his "History of the Southern Indian Mission," a manuscript notebook of two hundred and twenty-one pages. In addition to the daily diary, the book contains a number of letters and other items.

Brown wrote every day, giving date, place, and weather conditions before he summarized the activities of the group. He took detailed minutes of all meetings; he described the country, becoming lyrical over some of its color and form; he told of the inconveniences and hardships of frontier life and of the frictions which sometimes arose among the missionaries. But the best parts of all this vivid and eloquent account are the pen pictures he made of the natives themselves. No one else has left anything so graphic.

The missionaries had been on the road ten days before they saw any Indians. As they neared Fillmore, they had their first encounter, which Brown described as follows:

Tuesday, 25 April. — A fine morning after leaving camp up to Corn Creek, very wet and heavy driving. About 20 Indians of Walker's Band came and surrounded our wagons and finally crossed the road and stood ahead of them. After many strange gestures and much loud speaking by the eldest of them, a blanket was thrown down. We all understood this to be a demand of toll for passing over their lands; we all contributed some bread and flour and tobacco. They sat down and seemed to enjoy the bread. We passed on and soon some more came down to the creek, they too had to be satisfied.

The record continues through three weeks of activity, during which Brown told of the problems of clearing land, digging ditches, holding meetings, and setting up friendly relations with the local natives. On May 11 he reported that Indian Abraham's wife was ill with breast infection following childbirth. They had called in some of the Mormon missionaries to pray over her, or as the Indians called it, "do their poogi." Since it had no effect, they tried their own cures. Brown wrote on May 12:

The Indian Doctor or medicine man came to-day, and after giving the sick woman some hot water to drink, but no herbs in it began to sing, "Nani, nani, nani, Nani, nani," &c, varying the sound as I have written it, first loud then falling by degrees, then beginning aloud again, this he continued till, 1 suppose, having invoked the healing spirit long enough he would get to his knees, then roll over to his back would draw himself close to the patient, and with closed eyes, still singing, lift up his hands so as to receive her, she would fall across him and he placing his arms around her and near the sore shoulder, would begin to press her breast, would crawl out when breath seemed almost gone to him, would spit out some nasty green stuff, expectorated from his own lungs, or chest, would again begin a new murmuring song "H-a-a-a H-a-a-a Hum -m-m-m," &c, would continue again for half an hour till he would again fall on his back, again receive her into his arms crosswise — again suck till he would expectorate one of his dark green stones, about the size of a bean, this he would carry off, crawling in a stooping posture some 20 yards and hide it among the brushes or in the earth, burying the disease or evil spirit.

These stones they carry in their medicine bags — and I doubt not resurrect all they bury, at their own convenience, for I suppose they esteem these stones sacred; then he returned and would begin singing, continue again in the same way till after another pressure and suction — a white stone would be expectorated and buried, this continued for two hours, crawling off once on his hands and knees and once sucking the shoulder and pressing the breast. Whether they induce faith in the patient, that by their songs, suctions and carrying off the disease; or whether a healing spirit attends them in their administrations; or a magnetic stream passes from the whole through the diseased person — a mesmeric influence that heals, I know not; but the general testimony is that, often remarkable cures are effected.

On June 7, as the missionaries were en route to Santa Clara, they passed what seemed to be an Indian burial. It was of a man named Pierre, whom they had seen a few days before, a skeleton of a man who had been hurt in one of the Indian fights for a wife. Rachel Lee had told them of her unsuccessful attempt to persuade an Indian mother to bury her dead child according to the white man's way, and impressed upon them the fact that the natives did not like to be under observation while they performed their sacred rites. For this reason the missionaries rode on without stopping, but the recorder could not resist reflecting upon the event:

When he lay dying his only bed was the dusty earth. I could not help reflecting "to dust we must return" — Alas! poor Indians how near the soil they have been! at birth dropping into the dust, creeping, lying and running in it with no other table — thy work-bench — thy gambling table thy theatre — pulpit — stage — bed of joy, sorrow and death: With apparent sympathy thou art surrounded by thy wives, children and friends, though at a little distance in sad and mournful silence — the head of the dying one resting on the roots of a bunch of brushoak, his feet drawn up to his back, his legs and thighs wasted away except at the joints; "return to dust!" Why poor, dark degraded Lamanite thou never went far out of it!

For all of the group this trip to the Santa Clara was new, untrodden ground. Two Indians accompanied them, leading them by dim trails around the steep, rocky hills, until near sunset when they came to Chief Toquer's wickiups on Ash Creek. They had traveled twenty miles this day, and had it not been for their Indian guides, they would never have found the place. Brown said the wickiups were:

composed of long branches of willows, cotton-wood and stalks of corn, 3 of them — the willows stuck in the ground slantingly so that they meet at the top, the leaves of these and a neighboring ash tree was all the shelter from wind or rain.

Toker is a small broad old man about 50 years of age. Broad bald forehead, rather flat: flat nose and darker in color than most other Indians. . . . He received us very cordially, and when told that R. C. Allen was our Captain — the two big men embraced each other very affectionately, more like the refined French and people of civilized Europe than the rude Indians.

Toquer then led them to the camp in the sandy bottoms about thirty yards north of the wickiups, warning them to keep their horses off the grapevines.

Turning their horses out to pick the scanty grass among the rocks, the missionaries took out their meal of raw bacon, bread, and cheese, which they shared with fifteen Indians, two squaws and two papooses. From here they all went together to the wickiups of the regular camp. Brown's description of the supper is classic:

We . . . found their women grinding seeds by the light of the moon, and boiling a large potful of pottage — in a conical shaped dish made from clay and sand thin and hard. This mess seemed of a darkish grey color with like chunks of bacon in it. We tasted the flour which the women were making from the seeds of grass — by rubbing them between two rocks. It tasted much like buckwheat flour or bean meal. What we fancied to be pieces of bacon, I have been told were bunches of matted ants. One of the brethren tasted this food and said, these clusters tasted very oily but knew not the cause.

This porridge the female stirred with a large spoon or ladle, like the water gourds of the states made from the horn of a mountain sheep; with this the mess was divided on wicker baskets, flat, in the shape of flat wood turned dishes, about 1 quart to each — the elder served first — this was soon cleaned out by bending the forefinger of the right hand inwards around the point of the thumb for a spoon. — the Same dish handed back and filled and passed around. They supped this up greedily, and with the head of a roasted porcupine, brains and bones, added to an entire roasted sand lark, seemed, added to what we gave them — to about satisfy. Then like hogs with little or no covering they huddled together in the sand. Oh! how Ephraim has fallen! After prayer, we too were soon asleep — on our buffalo robes — not far from our friends.

As they traveled down Ash Creek, the missionaries noted the Indian farms planted in long narrow strips. In one place they saw a good irrigation canal about a half mile long below which were about three acres well planted with watermelons as well as the staples of corn, squash, and potatoes. Often they passed last year's abandoned farms with the corn stalks still standing. Because the natives had no way to get these roots out of the ground, they were forced to start each year's garden in a new place. Wherever the white men tried to talk to the Indians, the burden of the conversation was always the same: "We are hungry often, we want food, we are naked, we want shirts, pants, hats."

Near the Virgin River they saw some squaws and children gathering berries, and Brown and William Henefer rode over to a young squaw. "Oh! how she feared to approach us when we kindly asked [for] some shutcup holding out a basket of berries at full arms length yet some feet off from where we could reach, we approached a little near, she trembled and sweat and [held] her limbs together as if required to keep her reins steady that there should be no apparent leakage; such was her fear."

As Brown traced their travel each day, he saw the same general pattern of life — naked, hungry children, all full of awe and fear at these strange visitors mounted on fine horses with saddles and other trappings. When they left the Virgin River, Parouse, as the Indians called it, and came to the Santa Clara Creek, or Tonaquint, Brown remarked that: "This place seemed more comfortable to me than any place we had come to." As to the natives and their association there, he said:

They were much afraid especially the squaws and children. The most of the Indians that were with us yesterday travelled with us this day ... very hot — they slept near us in the wickeups last night, and now their number is swelled to 22; they are as hungry as we, and I suppose more so, even so that they could have eaten all we had at one meal, yet we disliked to eat in their presence and they not enjoy food with us, so we abstained from eating till all cleared off.

After supper 5 of us left camp to visit "Matuprenups" wickeup — there we found some 8 or 10 men and 2 squaws only, and a "nansits" — female child — they were in great fear (sherreah) when we approached, so much so, the red men became pale and trembled; this wore off after a while. We found an old man had fled, they called him, he did not come, Jacob Hamblin a quiet man went out and found him rolled up in his rabbit skin mantlet, like a rabbit hid in an old wickeup, he patted him on the shoulder, looked kindly upon him and told him the Mormons were "toojee Tickaboo toinab," very friendly, and the same as the Pahutes. Finally he came and sat down beside me all trembling. After smoking with us he became more composed.

The little child that had buried itself in her father's bosom crying, rushed out sweating and ran towards her mother and hid behind her. The grandmother of this child, a very old woman, was the only one that did the hard work; she brought a wicker basket full of water slung on her head as the fish women of Edinburgh carry their loads of fish.. ..

She called aloud for me to come and sup: she handed me a large spoon made of the horn of a mountain sheep that would hold about a pint, full of this home made wine, she then sat down a large bowl made of small willows, and pitched within full of this wine to our men, and we all partook freely of this sweet and nourishing fluid. We smoked with them and sung some of the Saints hymns, and a good spirit prevailed. Their fears gave way to confidence and love; they were liberally kind with their wine, wheat and seed flour porridge and berries.

They asked us to sing again, we told them it was one way the Mormons spoke to Shenowab. . .. During our singing they all kept very still... . There appear many pieces of good wheat land on this stream, across which Beaver dams are built every few rods, and the banks being low, the water overflows much and renders the bottoms good grazing patches.

The company of missionaries, their food supply exhausted, decided that they must return to their farm near Harmony, leaving behind two of their men, Jacob Hamblin and William Henefer, to continue the missionary work.

Thomas D. Brown did not have further close contact with the Indians; he was sent to explore the Las Vegas area, and upon his return was asked to take the place of Christopher J. Arthur as clerk and recorder in Cedar City. On December 22,1855, he married Mary Lucretia, daughter of William W. Willis, as his only plural wife. In 1856 he was released from his mission in the south and sent to survey the Weber River for a place suitable to bring out the water, then to lay out Fort Supply and Fort Bridger, and later to survey five sites for mail stations between Fort Laramie and Salt Lake City. For a time he was also corresponding secretary to Brigham Young.

Later, though he continued to live in Salt Lake City and kept his store on Main Street, he became disaffected and joined the Liberal party as a member of their central committee; in 1874 he ran as a candidate for councilman on the ticket.

Whatever his later activities, Brown's record of the Southern Indian Mission remains of great value for its clear description of the natives as they were when the first white men came among them.

JACOB HAMBLIN

Of all the men called to the Southern Indian Mission, Jacob Hamblin seemed to take his assignment most seriously, so seriously, in fact, that the mission lasted all his life. His shadow still falls across the barren desert wastes, where he pushed into the undiscovered areas to be one of the "firsts": at Kanab, at the Colorado crossing, at the Paria settlement or on the Moenkopi, he blazed the trails which others followed. His name is legend among the Indian tribes for integrity and honor, a man who did not "speak with a forked tongue."

Hamblin was born in Salem, Ohio, April 2, 1819, and at the age of twenty he married Lucinda Taylor. They joined the Mormon Church in 1839, and followed the fortunes of the Saints from Nauvoo, across Iowa, and to Winter Quarters. From this point Lucinda refused to go farther west, but returned to her home, leaving Jacob with four young children. A few months later he married Rachel Judd, who helped him collect means to go on to the valley of the Great Salt Lake in 1850. They settled first in Tooele County.

In the Tooele area the Indians made repeated raids on the herds of the settlers, until at last Jacob Hamblin was put in charge of a posse to go after them, recover the stolen cattle, and punish the leaders. The posse came upon the Indian camp just before daybreak on a snowy morning, and Hamblin ordered his men to charge upon it. They caught the braves entirely by surprise and could easily have killed the whole camp, but at the sight of the frightened, running women and the ter- rorized children, Jacob ordered his men not to shoot. Instead, he talked to the chief, persuading him to return with the posse to the town and get acquainted with the leaders there, in the hope that the thieving would cease.

The Mormon authorities were not pleased with this action and condemned Jacob so vigorously that he went alone into the mountains, ostensibly after a load of wood but actually to try to come to peace with himself. Here he met other Indians supposed to be hostile, and was surprised at how well he could communicate with them. He found a small Indian boy who had been left behind with his grandmother, gave the old woman food to enable her to travel on, and persuaded her to give him the child. As he lay in bed that night with the little body close against him, he received an answer to his problem, a peace and satisfaction with his course and a promise that "so long as you do not thirst for the blood of the Indians, they shall not have the power to take your life." The voice he heard was so real to Jacob that he never doubted it; because of it for the rest of his days he walked unarmed without fear among his red brothers.

It was his dedication to the mission that led his captain to leave him to remain longer on the Santa Clara at the visit of Thomas D. Brown and the group; it was his success in inspiring confidence in the natives that made Brigham Young appoint him president of the mission there.

Jacob Hamblin's journal continues with his experiences where Thomas D. Brown's leaves off. He and William Henefer ate and talked with the Indians; he cut some of the wheat heads with his knife, filling a basket to demonstrate how the white brethren might help the natives to improve their condition; they helped repair a broken ditch. When their food was almost exhausted, they started back to Harmony on foot, traveling at night over the burning sand. When they reached Toquer's wickiups, Hamblin records: "he was watering corn. He said he was very hungry; had not eaten anything but a few lizards for 3 days. I was glad to find I could understand him so well, only gone 3 weeks from Harmony; we gave him all the flour we had."

Excerpts from his journal give a good close-up of Indian life. When he left Harmony on December 10 with Augustus P. Hardy and Thales Haskell he wrote:

December 10th [1854] I started for the Clara . . . found some Piedes hunting; they were much pleased to see us. I told them that we had come to stay with them now & teach them how to build houses & raise grain; this pleased them very much. They left their hunt and went home with us to their lodges or wickeups, as they call them....

The next day the Piedes were much alarmed. They said that the Utahs were coming to steal their children that night. The Chief wanted to know if we would fight for them if the Utahs should come to steal their children. I counseled with Bros. Hardy & Haskell, all that were with me. I then told him we would fight for them if it was necessary.

I then let them have 100 rounds of ammunition to each gun mat they had. Spies were sent out and everything made ready. The Old Chief commenced Preaching to the Utahs if there was any in hearing, as he said; he told them that they must not come here now to steal children; that their white brothers (the Mormons) had come here and would fight for them.

He then came and told me to lie down and not sleep sound; he would awaken me before the Utahs could get here. The night passed; no Utahs came.

Nor did they come the next day or the next. When they did arrive, they bargained with the Indians, purchasing the children instead of stealing them. They gave one horse and two guns for three girls.

. . . the girls father & Mother cried to see them go; but they had nothing to eat and it would be better for the children than to stay & starve. I saw tears fall fast from the eyes of the oldest of the three; a girl about ten or twelve years old. I felt heart sick to see them dragged from their homes to become slaves to the Gentiles. I saw the necessity of the Elders doing all they could to ameloriate the condition of this miserable people.

Sometime later the missionaries were invited to an Indian wedding. "When a Piede squaw is old enough to marry, there is from six to twenty wanting her for a wife; so they get together & fight for her, until they are all whipt but one; he takes the bride," Jacob explained. The shortage of girls was due to the slave trade, for girls were more in demand on the Mexican market and would bring a much better price than boys. Parents, also, seemed more willing to part with daughters than with sons.

The following incident arose because the squaw's husband, a brave of another band, had stolen her from her first husband, who was one of her own people. The chief declared that they must fight for her:

About fifty fighters gathered near the bank of the River naked except a strip about their loins; their hair tied back; the two husbands commenced the fight, bruising each other's faces at a horrible rate. At length one fell, when one of his friends took his place. Thus they fought until they all got their faces badly bruised.

They took the bride by the arm and pulled her along. This was a signal for another fight; he had not proceeded far when he was met by an opponent, & now again commenced the fight. Thus they fought until an hour after sundown; dragging and hauling her around.

Once they undertook to cross the river with her; she gave them the slip & ran back near where I was standing on the bank. She reached out her hand and asked me to pull her up which I did. One of the warriors presented himself for a knock down. I told him I did not want to fight. He said I must not take hold of that woman then. I told him I did not understand it. It passed off. I was glad to get out of it without a bruised face.

The above version, written at the time in detail, is in harmony with the general character of Jacob Hamblin, and a far cry from the story which has been told picturing him as challenging the whole band and knocking out one after another as fast as they came up, until there were none left to oppose him, then generously letting the squaw select the one she preferred for a husband. This time the fight continued until one contender got the other by the hair and began to drag him. Because this was considered foul play, one of his friends went to the defense when:

. . . they all commenced fighting like so many bull dogs. This presented a sight & sound that I cannot describe, the women & children hallooing & screaming; throwing fire, ashes, & whipping the crowd over the heads with long sticks. At length, having beaten one another until they were tired, they quit; the woman had fainted. There was no appearance of life in her. Two of them hauled her back of one of their lodges, here they quarreled some time. They tore her buckskin shirt off her, & pulled and fought over that until they were tired. One of the claimants got the shirt and slept on it. The marriage was not decided that night. The next morning I counted one hundred that had assembled for the fight

The fight continued all day long; the squaw was so badly handled that Jacob Hamblin went to the chief to remonstrate. At first Tutsegavit insisted that he could do nothing; they had always acquired squaws in this way. Not until Jacob threatened to tell the White Father all about it and insisted that it would not be a pretty story, did he promise to do something to end the barbaric custom. Alas for Jacob's hopes. Tutsegavit nor any other man could stop a custom so long established.

By February 4, 1855, Ira Hatch, Samuel Knight, and Amos Thornton arrived bringing spades, hoes, and picks to help build a dam in the creek so that they might plant grain. Under date of February 11 following, Jacob wrote:

We have been laboring to complete the dam the past week. The missionaries & Piedes too hold together as the heart of one man; the work prospers. We built a dam across the Santa Clara eighty feet long, fourteen feet high & three feet thick, of rock. We had no stone hammers except one old axe we got of the Piedes. With this, we were enabled to split the small rocks. The Piedes brought them to the dam with handbarrows. The work prospers greatly.

In spite of this encouraging note, he wrote his real feelings a few days later:

... I feel grateful to the Lord for health & strength to resume my mission; yet there is not a day passes over my head, but that I consider it a great privilege to have an hour to myself, where the Piutes cannot see me: so that I can realize the task of civilizing this People. They are in a very low, degraded condition indeed; loathsome & filthy beyond description. I have wished many times for the moment, that my lot was cast among a more cleanly people; . . .

Jacob Hamblin had a part of this wish fulfilled years later when he worked with the Navajo and the Hopi, but always his calling was with the Indians. Two events this year of 1855 built up his prestige. The first was the fact that this was a drought year. The stream dried up until it did not reach the fort; their dam, built at such a cost was useless; their crops were almost dead. Tutsegavit demanded that he keep his promise that there would be food for the Indians and urged that Hamblin do his poogi, or magic, or pray to his God to bring rain.

Jacob reassured the chief, feeling that God would surely honor the promises that had been made in His name in this attempt to help His most unfortunate children. His journal said only that "I was considerably wrought up in my feelings." But the rain did come, the crops were saved, and the natives credited Jacob, whose God would answer.

Even more impressive to them was the case of Old Agarapoots, the angry Indian who wanted nothing of the Mormons or their ways. He came with his braves to the Santa Clara and went about glowering and snarling, frightening the women and children. At last in defiance he killed an ox, skinned it, and divided it among his band with no attempt at secrecy.

Most of the settlers thought he should be punished; they had put up with him and his ways long enough. A sound whipping would do him good, some of them declared. Jacob insisted upon handling the matter in his own way, which was to go to Agarapoots' lodge and try to talk to him. The chief was surly, expressing only scorn for the Mormon poogi."You will make your own bad medicine," Jacob told him. The next day Agarapoots' little son was taken very ill, and in desperation he sent for Jacob to pray the child better. Jacob, seeing that there was no hope for the boy, refused to "do his poogi," and while they talked about it, the boy died. Now the chief swore that Mormon children would be sent to the happy hunting ground to follow his son.

Tutsegavit came again to beg Jacob to pray, this time to pray Agarapoots dead, and when very shortly thereafter the old chief did sicken and die, Tutsegavit was all the more convinced of Jacob's power. Without arrows or knife or gun he could kill those people who were evil and who worked against the white man's God.

Most effective in the long run were the rules which Jacob adopted in his dealings with the Indians. They were: never talk to them of things beyond their comprehension; listen to them patiently and try to understand their point of view; never laugh at them, no matter how ridiculous their ideas are; always keep your word to them; never take advantage of them in a trade. Yet, there were times when he must be firm with them, as this incident shows:

As yet they have not stolen anything from us. It is surprising to me that they have not; for the house has been left for weeks (without a lock on the door), with many things in it to tempt poor miserable souls like this to steal yet they have not. Some few of them have attempted insults, or to run over us in the house, which I would not allow. I jerked one, cuffed another, and told the third to go out of doors; he said he would not. So I led him out by the hair of the head, & took my foot from his seat of honor, which gave him to think

I meant what I said. The next day I was two or three miles from home on horseback. I saw him coming on the run with a gun in his hand. I turned my horse about to meet him; asked him what he wanted; O nothing only walking said he, & stepped into the trail behind me and turned back. Not liking his manoeuvre, I turned my horse about, told him to take the trail & go ahead, which he did for about a mile. He then said he wanted to turn off to visit some other lodges. I told him to go ahead keeping my eye on him for a while.. ..

The Indian mission took on a new outlook with the coming of the families. "September 11, 1855, I started for Santa Clara with Oscar Hamblin my brother, & Dudley Leavitt & our families. We arrived there the 18th of October. They were almost overjoyed to see our women and children. We had many good talks with our Red friends," Jacob wrote.

In 1870 Hamblin was called to Kanab to use his influence to control the raiding Navajos. From there he worked his way to the upper Paria, and across the Colorado to the Indian nations there. As official "Apostle to the Lamanites," he must go wherever there was potential trouble.

When he died in 1886, it would seem that his life was a failure, for he left his families so poorly provided for that an article in the Deseret News solicited contributions for the support of his children. But time has added to the stature of this man until now he is known as one whose contribution is most permanent. He worked for peace with the tools of peace — with understanding and tolerance and love.

For full citations and images please view this article on a desktop.