Appendix to the History of the Prophet Joseph (Concluded)

APPENDIX TO HISTORY OF THE PROPHET JOSEPH. {Concluded.) LETTERS OF DON C. SMITH TO HIS WIFE AGNES. Cohocton, Steuben Co., June 25, 1836. Dear Companion, I received your letter bearing the date June 15, which I perused with eagerness,being the first I had received from you during my absence. I was rejoiced to hear that you were as well as you expressed, but grieved that your rest should be disturbed by the nervous affection of which you speak. You say that you are willing to submit to the will of the Lord in all things, this is also a source of great consolation to me; for if these be your feelings, even when deprived of my society, in order to advance the prosperity of the kingdom of God (as nothing else would tear me from you), I feel that the Lord will bless, keep, preserve and uphold you, so let your faith fail not; and your prayers cease not, and you shall ba healed of your nervous complaint, and all other afflictions. For God is willing, and abundantly able, to raise you up and give you all the right- eous desires of your heart, for he has said, "Ask and ye shall receive," and he has never lied; and I Can truly say that he has been my help in every time of need. When I left home, I set my face, like a flint, towards Boston, until I found that it was my duty to return home. On arriving at Seneca Falls, I laid the matter before Samuel and Wilber, and we united our hearts in prayer before the Lord, who signified, by the voice of his Spirit, to Samuel, that he should continue his journey, but that we should return, after a short time, to our families; so tell Mary that we have not forsaken him; no, nor ever will, for he is as faithful as the sun— the Lord will not forsake him, and angels will bear him up, and bring him off triumphant and victorious. I heard of the death of grandmother, while at Aven. I could not help weeping for her, although she has gone to rest. I called at Uncle John's—grandmother was asleep—I laid my hand on her head, and asked the Lord to spare her, that I might see her

APPENDIX TO HISTORY OF THE PROPHET JOSEPH 203 again in the flesh. But when I left, I felt as though she would be taken before I returned, which caused me to feel sorrowful; but I do not desire to call her back to this world of trouble. I must close by saying that I expect to labor in the vineyard, until I start for home. And if the Lord will, I shall see you as soon as the last of July, and then I shall finish this letter. Yours till death, Agnes M. Smith. Don C. Smith. In the month of June, 1839, Don Carlos came from McDonough county to Commerce, for the purpose of making preparations to establish a printing press. As the press and type had been buried during the Missouri troubles, and were considerably injured by the dampness which they had gathered, it was necessary to get them into use as soon as possible; and in order to do this, Carlos was under the necessity of cleaning out a cellar, through which a spring was constantly flowing; for there was no other place at liberty where he could put up the press. The dampness of the place, together with his labor, caused him to take a severe cold, with which he was sick some time; nevertheless, he continued his labor, until he got the press into operation, and issued one num- ber of the paper. He then went to McDonough, and visited his family; after which, he returned to Commerce, but found the distress so great that no business could be done. Upon his arrival in Commerce, he wrote to his wife the following letter, which shows the situation of the Church at that time, as well as his affectionate disposition, which was breathed in every word he spoke to his family, and stamped upon every line he wrote to them when absent. Commerce, July 25, 1839. Beloved, I am in tolerable health, and have just risen from imploring the Throne of Grace, in behalf of you and our children, that God would pre- serve you all in health, and give you every needed blessing, and protect you by day and by night. When I arrived here, nothing had been done in the office, as Brother Robinson had been sick every day since I left. And I have done but little labor since I returned, except struggling against the destroyer, and attending upon the sick—there are not well ones enough to take care of the sick—there has been but one death, how- ever, since my return. McLerry, Sophronia and Clarinda, are very sick.

204 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Sister E. Robinson has been nigh unto death. Last Tuesday, I in com- pany with George A. Smith, administered to sixteen souls; some notable miracles were wrought under our hands. I never had so great power over disease, as I had this week; for this let God be glorified. There is now between fifty and one hundred sick, but they are generally on the gain; I do not know of more than two or three who are considered dangerous. I send you some money that you may not be destitute, in case you should be sick, and need anything which you have not in the house. Agnes, the Lord being my helper, you shall not want. Elijah's God will bless you, and I will bles> you, for you are entwined around my heart with ties that are stronger than death, and time cannot sever them. Deprived of your society, and that of my prattling babes, life would be irksome. Oh! that we may all live and enjoy health and pros- perity until the coming of the Son of Man, that we may be a comfort to each other, and instil into the tender and noble minds of our children principles of truth and virtue, which shall abide with them forever, is my constant prayer. From your husband, who will ever remain devoted and affectionate, both in time and eternity. Don C. Smith. While Don Carlos was at work in the before mentioned cellar, be took a severe pain in his side, which was never altogether re- moved. About a fortnight prior to his death, his family were very sick, and in taking care of them, he caught a violent cold— a fever set in, and the pain in his side increased, and with all our exertions, we were unable to arrest the disease, which I have no doubt was consumption, brought on by his working in a damp room in which he printed his paper. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE DEARLY BELOVED AND MUCH LAMENTED FATHER IN ISRAEL, JOSEPH SMITH, SENIOR; A PATRIARCH IN THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS, WHO DIED AT NAUVOO, SEPTEMBER 14, 1840. By Miss E. B. Snow. Zion's noblest sons are weeping, See her daughters bathed in tears, Where the Patriarch is sleeping Nature's sleep—the sleep of years.

APPENDIX TO HISTORY OF THE PROPHET JOSEPH 205 Hushed is every note of gladness— Every minstrel bows full low— Every heart is tuned to sadness— Every bosom feels the blow. Zion's children loved him dearly; Zion was his daily care: That his loss is felt sincerely, Thousand weeping Saints declare; Thousands who have shared his blessing, Thousands whom his service blessed, By his faith and prayers suppressing Evils which their lives opprest. Faith and works, most sweetly blended, Proved his steadfast heart sincere, And the power of God attended His offiical labors here; Long he stemmed the powers of darkness, Like an anchor in the flood: Like an oak amid the tempest, Bold and fearlessly he stood. Years have witnessed his devotions, By the love of God inspired, When his spirit's pure emotions Were with holy ardor fired. Oft he wept for suff'ring Zion— All her sorrows were his own; When she passed through grievous trials, Her oppressions weighed him down. Now he's gone, we'd not recall him From a paradise of bliss, Where no evil can befall him, To a changing world like this. His loved name will never perish, Nor his mem'ry crown the dust; For the Saints of God will cherish The remembrance of the Just.

206 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Faith's sweet voice of consolation Soothes our grief: his spirit's flown Upward, to a holier station, Nearer the celestial throne; There to plead the cause of Zion, In the council of the Just— In the courts the Saints rely on, Pending causes to Adjust. Though his earthly part is sleeping, Lowly 'neath the prairie sod; Soon the grave will yield its keeping— Yield to life the man of God. When the heavens and earth are shaken- When all things shall be restored— When the trump of God shall waken Those that sleep in Christ the Lord. LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF GEN. DON CARLOS SMITH. By Miss E. M. Snow. "Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain." The insatiate archer, Death, once more Has bathed his shaft in human gore; The pale-faced monarch's crimsoned bow, Once more has laid a good man low. If tears of love could ever save A noble victim from the grave; If strong affection e'er had power To rescue in the dying hour; If kindred sympathy could hold A jewel in its sacred fold; If friendship could produce a charm, The heartless tyrant to disarm; If wide-acknowledged worth could be A screen from mortal destiny; If pure integrity of heart Could baffle death's malignant dart; If usefulness and noble zeal, Devotedness to Zion's weal,

APPENDIX TO HISTORY OF THE PROPHET JOSEPH. 207 A conduct graced with purposed aim, A reputation free from blame, Could save a mortal from the tomb, And stamp with an eternal bloom; He never could have bowed to death, Or yielded up his mortal breath. Ours is the sorrow, ours the loss, For, through the triumphs of the Cross, His noble part, by death set free, On wings of immortality, Tracing the steps the Savior trod, Has reached the Paradise of God. There he rejoins the ransomed choir, There, there he hails his noble sire, A patriarch of these latter-days, Whose goodness memory loves to trace With reverence, gratitude, and love; He left us for the courts above. There with the spirits of the just, Where Zion's welfare is discussed, Once more their efforts to combine In Zion's cause.—And shall we mourn For those who have been upwards borne! And shall the Legion's sorrow flow, As if a Chieftain were laid low, • Who threw his frail escutcheon by, To join the Legion formed on high? Yes, mourn.—The loss is great to earth, A loss of high exalted worth. THE ASSASSINATION OF JOSEPH AND HYRUM SMITH, FIRST PRESIDENTS OF THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS, WHO WERE MASSACRED BY A MOB IN CARTHAGE, HANCOCK COUNTY, ILL., ON JUNE 27, 1844. By Miss E. S. Snow. Ye heavens attend! Let all the earth give ear! Let Gods and seraphs, men and angels hear— The worlds on high—the universe shall know What awful scenes are acted here below!

208 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Had Nature's self a heart, her heart would bleed, For never, since the Son of God was slain, Has blood so noble flowed from human vein, As that which now, on God, for vengeance calls From "Freedom's ground"—from Carthage]prison walls! Oh! Illinois! thy soil has drunk the blood Of Prophets, martyred for the truth of God. Once loved America! What can atone For the pure blood of innocence thou'st sown? Were all thy streams in teary torents shed To mourn the fate of those illustrious dead, How vain the tribute, for the noblest worth That graced thy surface, 0 degraded earth! Oh! wretched murd'rers! fierce for human blood! You've slain the Prophets of the living God, Who've borne oppression from their early youth, To plant on earth the principles of truth. Shades of our patriot fathers! Can it be? Beneath your blood-stained flag of liberty! The firm supporters of our country's cause Are butchered, while submissive to her laws! Yes, blameless men, defamed by hellish lies, Have thus been offerd as a sacrifice T' appease the ragings of a brutish clan, That has defied the laws of God and man! 'Twas not for crime or guilt of theirs they fell; Against the laws they never did rebel. True to their country, yet her plighted fate Has proved an instrument of cruel death! Where are thy far-famed laws, Columbia, where Thy boasted freedom—thy protecting care? Is this a land of rights? Stern Facts shall say, If legal justice here maintains its sway, The official powers of state are sheer pretense, When they're exerted in the Saints' defense. Great men have fallen, and mighty men have died; Nations have mourned their fav'rites and their pride;. But two, so wise, so virtuous, great, and good, Before on earth, at once, have never stood

APPENDIX TO HISTORY OF THE PROPHET JOSEPH. 209 Since the creation. Men whom God ordained To publish truth where error long had reigned, Of whom the world itself unworthy proved. It knew them not, but men with hatred moved, And with infernal spirits have combined Against the best, the noblest, of mankind. Oh, persecution! shall thy purple hand Spread utter destruction through the land? Shall freedom's banner be no more unfurled? Has peace, indeed, been taken from the world? Thou God of Jacob, in this trying hour, Help us to trust in thy Almighty power; Support thy Saints beneath this awful stroke, Make bare thine arm to break oppression's yoke. We mourn thy Prophet, from whose lips have flowed The words of life thy Spirit has bestowed; A depth of thought no human art could reach, From time to time rolled in sublimest speech, From the celestial fountain, through his mind, To purify and elevate mankind. The rich intelligence by him brought forth, Is like the sunbeam spreading o'er the earth. Now Zion mourns, she mourns an earthly head; The Prophet and the Patriarch are dead! The blackest deed that men or devils know, •Since Calvary's scene has laid the brothers low. One in their life, and one in death—they proved How strong their friendship—how they truly loved. True to their mission, until death they stood, All hearts with sorrow bleed, and every eye Is bathed in tears—each bosom heaves a sigh— Heart-broken widows' agonizing groans Are mingled with the helpless orphans' moans! Ye Saints! be still, and know that God is just, With steadfast purpose in his promise trust. Girded with sackcloth, own his mighty hand, And wait his judgments on this guilty land! The noble martyrs now have gone to move The cause of Zion in the courts above. The End.