--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Nibley, Preston collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 33 number: 8 published: 1930-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Preston Nibley, “A Touch With Gen. Lew Wallace and With an Unknown,” *Improvement Era* 33, no. 8 (June 1930): 542–543." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3308unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3308unse start_page: 542 end_page: 543 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1930-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3308unse publication_year: 1930 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1930, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Touch With Gen. Lew Wallace and With an Unknown A Touch With Gen. Lew Wallace and With an Unknown By PRESTON NIBLEY NOT long ago I received a letter from the Editors of the Improvement Era, ask- ing me to get in touch with a brother named George W. Vogel, at the Soldier's Home, Sawtelle, California, and that he would have an interesting story for me relative to an incident, during the Civil War, in which he figured with General Lew Wallace, the author of "Ben Hur." This was about all the information I had, when I set out to find Brother Vogel. "THE Soldier's Home is a beauti- ful place, lying mid-way be- tween Los Angeles and Santa Monica ; the ocean on the west and the beautiful Santa Monica moun- tains on the north. For the veter- ans of our wars, no spot on earth could be more pleasant, in which to spend their peaceful and declining days. For many months I had daily passed through their grounds and had seen them loitering and resting here and there beneath the pepper trees and the palms. The old veterans, waiting patiently for the final bugle call; looking for- ward calmly to the last great change. I was not long in locating Brother Vogel; a stocky, sturdily built man, now in his eighty- eighth year; in full possession of his faculties despite the heavy bur- den of his years. We sat down in a shady nook to discuss my errand. "Yes," Brother Vogel said, "I had enlisted in the summer of 1862 and was sent with the Ohio volun- teers into Kentucky. I remember we crossed the Ohio river on a pon- toon bridge. Near Covington we brushed against the enemy. I found myself with several others, on General Buckner's plantation, in his peach orchard, firing at the Southern soldiers. TT was a hot fight, all day long we loaded and fired, and bullets from the enemies' guns seemed to be coming from every direction. Nearly all the peach trees were cut down by shells. However, I stood my ground and toward close of day found myself still there, un- harmed. As the Southern soldiers withdrew and firing almost ceased, I turned and saw a few men com ing on horse-back out of a wash behind me. When t^hey rode up I soon noticed that the leader was a general; a young man in his thirties, and yet he wore a beard and had the look of a seasoned officer. He asked me if I had a drink of water, and I replied that I had. Then he inquired, 'Young man, do you say your prayers?' I replied, 'Yes, my mother taught me to pray.' He replied, 'Well, I have been watching you during the afternoon from the wash below, and I believe that your mother's. prayers saved you to-day.' He shook hands with me, told me that I was a good fighter, and intro duced himself as General Lew Wallace. A BOUT thirty-five years later I *■ was superintendent of a mine, south of Marysvale in Southern Utah, and one day when I went to the postoffice t,here was a box of books for me, which, on opening, I found to be the works of Lew Wallace. How he had remembered me or gotten my name, I do not know, but they were sent by him- self. I regret to say that during subsequent years in my moving around these precious volumes were lost." "How did you come to join the 'Mormon' Church?" I asked Brother Vogel. "Well, that is an interesting story, too," he replied. "I was born right near Kirtland, Ohio, where the 'Mormons' once lived. My father, Peter Vogel, was a friend of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and on two occasions he George W. Vogel hid Joseph in his cellar while the mob was hunting for him. The Prophet gave my father a copy of the first edition of the Book of Mormon, and this was always a prized possession in our family. A FTER the war I drifted west, '**• and finally settled in Colorado. Here I met with a very peculiar ex- perience which changed the whole course of my life. I was running a hotel at Walsenburg, Colorado. One forenoon I was asked by the hotel cook to go over to the Levi Grocery Store for something he had forgotten to order. The Levi House stood on a corner diagonally across from my hotel. As I was crossing the street a very fine look- ing gentleman with a suit of brownish color, and a brownish hat approached me. He extended his hand and said, 'You are George William Vogel.' I scanned him for a moment and answered, 'Yes, that is my name.' I took him to be a traveling man, as they often came in from the larger cities. I said, 'You have the best of me.' He did not give me his name, but as we shook hands I never had such a feeling pass through my body. He then spoke, saying, 'I am sent to you by the Master.' He told me that I had been considerably wor- ried about my brother John, who at this time was employed by an English whaling company, on the different islands of the Behring Sea, The Improvement Era for June, 1930 543 in the Arctic region. I told him that I had been worried about John, and he replied, 'Do not worry about him any more; he is all right, and there is a letter on the way to you from him.' Sure enough, three days later I received a letter saying he had resigned his position with the company and that he was on his way to Tacoma, Washington. 'THEN the stranger read my past to me like a book. He said that the destroying angel had tried to take my life on numerous occa- sions, but that I had been spared. He reminded me of the time when at the age of four years I had fallen down a well at our old home in Ohio, and had been saved by climbing into the bucket while my mother drew me out. He related incidents which had occurred all through my father's family, giving me the names of the dead, and of the living, and where they were. He told me about my little sister Julia, who had died as a child. He also related to me how my life had been spared on numerous occasions during the war. He further said, 'You are a chosen spirit, and your mission on this earth is that you shall be a savior to your father's household. You will yet go into the temple of the Master, and do a great work for your kindred dead.' He told me to be prayerful, to listen to the promptings of the spirit and that I would be guided and directed to Zion. "I became so very much interest- ed that I begged my new-found friend to go over to my hotel and wait until I ran my errand, and that we would have dinner together and talk further. He said, 'Before I go, do you wish to ask me any- thing? If so, I will answer what- ever you wish to know.' I was so amazed that I did not know what to say, but again requested him to step over to my office at the hotel. I told him we would eat dinner and visit the whole afternoon. 1 then went across the street to the Levi Grocery, and in a few minutes returned and inquired of several who had seen us talking together if they knew who the gentleman was, and where he had gone. No one seemed to know. Arriving at my hotel, I found he was not there. I 'phoned the La Veta Hotel; no such person was there and no one had ever seen him. I 'phoned down to Cucharas Junction to Mr. Fred Roof, the agent there, but he had not seen any one answering the description. I 'phoned to Mr. Foster, on the Apashapa, but he had not seen any such person around. 'There were two trains a day running north and back from Denver. The conductor and pas- sengers ate dinner at my hotel, and I inquired of them all if any of them had seen such a man as I de- scribed, but no one had seen him, and I never saw him again." TTHE above circumstance made a ■- deep impression on Brother Vogel's mind, but he did not know what to make of it, and could not satisfy himself with any explanation. So he went about his daily tasks as heretofore, won- dering, wondering. Subsequently he sold out his hotel, took a posi- tion with the Standard Oil Com- pany, and was sent to Salt Lake City to straighten out some difficul- ty there. It was his first visit, and he was greatly interested in the sights, the Temple, the Tabernacle, and the splendid manner in which the city was laid out. He put up at the Valley House, that historic old hotel which is now nothing but a memory, and gradually, in drifting around, madie a few friends. Someone, he has forgot- ten who, induced him to attend a 'Mormon" meeting, and there, to his great astonishment, he heard expounded the same doctrines that he had heard from the mysterious caller in Walsenburg, Colorado. From that time on, his whole duty was clear before him, and he was not long in applying for baptism. "THIRTY-FOUR years have come and gone since Brother Vogel allied himself with the "Mormon" Church, and he is still here with us, ripe in wisdom, ex- perience, and the blessings of the Spirit. He looks calmly forward to the great change, which now cannot be so far away, and with a pleasing hope of meeting the mem- bers of his father's family, and his many friends and relatives, whom he has labored for, according to promise, in the temples of the Lord. Heritage By M. Jenkins Jones V\7E may divide the people of this old world of ours into two classes, materialists and ideal- ists. The materialist sees the plain, cold facts — nothing more. The idealist sees the plain, cold facts — and something more. He stops not here. A materialist may wander through a garden of roses and see the roses merely because he is passing among them. An ideal- ist may wander through the same garden. He sees the roses, not as mere roses, but as bits of heaven, as breaths of God. Each flower whispers to him a word of hope, and faith, and love. And he goes on his way refreshed and inspired. The further he goes the more he sees of the handiwork of the Al- mighty— of Nature. The laws of Nature are the thoughts of God. T^HE Indian hears the voice of the omnipotent in the cool wind, in the wash of the water as it dash- es over the rocks and in the songs of the birds. He sees His touch in the beautiful flowers and blue sky. He sees in the crystal-like lake the smile of the Great Spirit. In obeying the laws of Nature, one is brought closer into the pres- ence of the Holy One. He may be tempted or ridiculed by his fel- low-men, but "It matters little what man may think, but it matters much what God may think." In obeying the laws of Heaven we obey the laws of the land. ET us not be like the virgins who did not have enough oil for their lamps while awaiting the coming of the Bridegroom. Let us all be idealists; let us be more alert and learn the laws of Nature and obey them, and let us learn the laws of the land and obey them also. We shall build up for our children a heritage that is worth something — a heritage of idealism. Teach the children the laws of the land and their idealism will not allow them to break these laws.