Elder John R. Young.

(Of San Juan Stake.)

My brethren and sisters, and friends who may be present here today, I feel very weak and humble in standing before you, and I do not know whether I will be able to control my feelings so as to speak to you or not; but there is a prayer in my heart, that God will bless me, and strengthen me, that I may be able, for the few minutes that I shall stand before you, to say some things that shall be comforting, and I trust, interesting to us as Latter-day Saints.

I feel very grateful in my heart that I was born of parents who had received a testimony of the divine mission of the Prophet Joseph Smith: and I feel very thankful to my parents for the examples that they always placed before me. My father was a man who believed in prayer. My mother was a Christian woman, she always called her children about her and had them kneel in her presence, and thank God for His mercies to them, every day be fore they lay down to sleep. I thank my mother for these lessons.

I have had the privilege of going out into the world, away from our people. I was called when I was a boy of sixteen, to go into the mission field to proclaim the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ to the children of men. I can recall how feeble and weak I was, and I thank the Christian world for the charity that they had toward me when I was but a child, trying to labor among them. I had them often ask me why I was a Latter-day Saint. I suppose that my replies to that seemed simple and childish to them, but my statements were honest and truthful.

In the early years of my life I remember meeting the Prophet Joseph Smith. I was a sickly child: had suffered for two weeks, perhaps, with the chills and fever. I was a little skeleton, and peevish, everything would annoy me. I remember that one morning my father had led me out to give me a little sunshine, and in that walk we met the Prophet Joseph Smith, his brother Hyrum, and Sidney Rigdon. When they met my father, they shook hands with him, and the Prophet asked father if I was the little boy that father had requested the Elders to pray for. Now, the Latter-day Saints were a praying people: they had faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and that faith was strengthened in their bosoms by the testimonies of the Prophet Joseph Smith; and on that occasion, when we met them. I knew the Prophet. I had seen him in the congregations of the Saints, and I knew that he was a man that our people honored and loved: and hence I felt a thrill of pleasure pass over my little frame when he paid some little attention to me. When my father had told him that I was the child he had requested the Elders to pray for, the Prophet stepped toward me, and took my little straw bat from my head. He ran his fingers through my curly hair, and for the moment it seemed to me that he was looking far away, and then he sail to father. "Brother Young, don't you worry about this little man, he will live to grow up to manhood, and will help carry this gospel to the nations of the earth." That is one of my strongest and earliest recollections of things that came to me in this life, and hence I have answered to those who have met me out in the world, and asked me why I was a Latter-day Saint, that from my childhood, lessons came to me that gave me faith in the prophet of the last days, the Prophet Joseph Smith.

I also recall the martyrdom of the Prophets Joseph and Hyrum. My father was away from home, in the state of Ohio, doing missionary work at the time of the martyrdom. when he returned home, he said to the family, when they were gathered around the table. "Just as long as Brother Brigham is faithful to the trust that is placed upon him, they will seek for his blood." I wondered, though a child, why that should be, but the experiences of my life have shown me that feelings of that kind are natural to the wicked. As I matured in years, so that I could read and begin to grasp what I read, I learned that persecution was the common heritage of every man that has been called of God and given a mission to the human family.

As I have stated, I was called when a boy of sixteen, to go out and teach the gospel to the children of men. My mission was to the Pacific Islands, the Islands of Hawaii, when I reached there, I was assigned to labor on the island of Oahu. I will tell you a little of my personal experiences. I can hardly go beyond that in my talking to you. I was placed in a native family, a man by the name of Kyama, and his wife, no children in the family. They two promised to take care of me, and give me a home with them while I should study their language. About one week after my arrival there, a native woman, one of the neighbors, died. The natives indulged in considerable and extreme mourning over her. I was curious to see the manner of interment, and I went to the home. I saw them wrap the body in carpets and sew it up in mats, and carry it to the grave. At the graveyard, we met the minister of that parish, a venerable looking man, in appearance very much like our Brother Orson Pratt. I admired the man when I first saw him, on account of his resemblance to Orson Pratt, whom I loved. I went straight up to that minister of the gospel and offered him my hand, and told him who I was. I feared no man on earth at that time. I had injured no one, and felt kindly toward everybody; I wanted to do men good, that was the desire of my heart. I saw the minister draw Kyama to one side, and talk sharp to him; and when I returned to the cottage that was to be my home there was no one there. For three days and nights I stayed there, without food. I felt indignant at the treatment that was given to me, I could not tell why it was, and I turned to leave. I took my little carpet sack, and started walking back to Honolulu, about forty miles. When I came to the creek that flows about a mile south of the village I stopped and asked myself, "What are you going to do?"

Let me go a little further back, because there may be parents here of sons that are out in the mission field, or may be called into the mission field, and I want to bear my testimony that God never forsakes those who trust Him. Now, President Brigham Young had spoken to me, when I was called upon that mission, and I told him frankly and honestly that I did not know "Mormonism" to be true. "I know that you do not know it to be true. That is one reason we want you to go on this mission. And I will make you a promise. if you will go on this mission and live close to the Lord, and not commit sin, I promise you that when you come home you will take me by the hand and look me straight in the face, and tell me that you know 'Mormonism' is true. Now, will you go?" I accepted the mission.

When I stood at the bridge, I questioned myself, "What are you going to do? Go back to Honolulu and tell the President of the mission that you have not sand in your crop so that you can stand a little hunger and a little unpleasantness? And when you tell him that, perhaps he will chide you for that. Then what? I will not be chided, I have done no man wrong, and I will not be chided, I will go home." But I thought a little, and then felt ashamed of myself, and turned aside, and went up the creek until I found a grove of timber, and I slipped into that grove and knelt down and prayed, and while I prayed, that cloud of ill feeling passed from me, and there was rather a gleam of joy that came to me, and I retraced my steps back to the bridge. As I came back to the bridge a native man came also, leading a little burro with a load of oranges on his back. The burro was overloaded, his little back bent down until the brindle of oranges almost touched the ground, it was almost all he could do to carry his burden. The native had a rope tied to a ring in the donkey's nose, leading him. Across the bridge going northward there was a sharp, rocky hill, and when be reached the foot of that hill the donkey stopped there. The man held the rope in his left hand, and with his right he commenced stoning the little burro, and swearing in English at him. I set my little carpet bag down and went to the man and said. "Stop stoning that burro, that is cruel, you must not do if. And why do you swear at him?" And he said,"Don't all white men swear when things won't do what they want them to do?" I replied, "No, it is only bad white men that swear. I would like to see you get the burro up the hill without swearing at him and stoning him; give me the rope." He handed me the rope, and I went to the side of the road and pulled a little grass, and wiped the blood from the burro's head, where he had been struck with a stone, then patted him and talked to him kindly; and when I had done so, I started to walk up the hill. I did not pull the rope, I just held it in my hand, and that little burro, as if an inspiration had come to him, climbed up the hilt with the load on his back. When I reached the top the man, who had followed, said, "What is your name?" I told him, and be then said, "Where is your borne?" Then I broke down: that was a very tender word to me. The man then asked. "Don't you want to go an l live with me?" That was just what I wanted, and I said I would be very, pleased to go and live with him. He said, "Stay here until I come back, and you can go home with me." He went on down to the landing, sold his oranges, and came back, and I started to walk up the mountain with him. When he saw that I was weak, he picked me up, for he was a strong man, and set me in the saddle on the burro. I went into the orange grove where his home was, and staved with him until I learned to talk the native language.

Afterward, when I met Kyama, who had turned me out. I asked him why he had done that, awl he said. "The minister holds a paper on my little home, so he can take it away from me, and he told me you were a viper, and that if I kept you, you would sting me to death; and so I neglected tending to you, because I was fearful of the minister. When I learned that, I walked straight for that minister's home. He had company when I came there, knocked on the door, and they bade me come in, and I told him what I came for. I asked him if it was true that he told that native man not to feed me, and to turn me from his home, he said it was perfectly correct. I said, "You a minister of the gospel? Where do you find in the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ anything that will justify you in treating me that way? I had not wronged you, there is not a being on the face of the earth that can say that I have injured them; and yet you told that man to starve me, and you told him things that were not true--you told him that I was a viper, that I would sting him to death, that I was an imposter. You told him things that you imagined, for which you had no proof, and I ask you to recall what you did, and make acknowledgment of it."

Those are some of the things that I met with when I first went out into the world. It taught me some things: it taught me that some at least, in the Christian world have lost the spirit of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. That was the beginning of my coming against men that should be fathers to the people--bright, intelligent men who have lost the spirit that should accompany a man who is a professed servant of the living God.

By and by, I undertook to preach. I remember my first text, it was the 16th verse of the 16th chapter of Mark. It was what Christ said to His apostles when He met with them after His crucifixion: "Go ye into the world, and preach the gospel to every creature, he that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." Now, to me that is very strong and authoritative language, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." Then I went on to tell of the signs that should follow those that believe. Now, I had lived among the Latter-day Saints from a child up, but I had not seen manifestations that brought conviction directly to me in regard to the fulfillment of those things, and I wondered a little myself in regard to them. But they are true, my brethren and sisters. God has restored them again to the earth. I will tell you the first one that I ever witnessed, when I was out in the world. It may be good for some of our young people at home to hear it. It was in the city of San Francisco. Apostle Parley P. Pratt was presiding there. Three of us, Elders Joseph F. Smith and William W. Cluff, and myself were given the task of tracting the city of San Francisco. Brother Joseph F. Smith could not Stand it--he came home in the evening and said to Brother Pratt, "I will work any place that you will put me to work--I do not care what the nature of the work is. I will do it; but I will not walk the streets of San Francisco and receive the abuse that I receive when I offer to give them a tract. I cannot stand it." Brother Pratt consequently released him from it, and Brother Cluff was released also, but he held me to the task. I guess it was a blessing to me that I was such a little boy, because men felt ashamed to be very rough with me; and I kept at the work. One day when I returned from tracting, I came to Sister Evans' the widow lady who was giving me a home, and she said,"Brother Young, hurry up stairs, they are having trouble up there." I passed upstairs, and found the little room was nearly filled, there was scarcely room for any more. Not many of them were Latter-day Saints, and there was an excitement there. A woman was lying upon the bed, and when I came into the room, she sprang from that bed and tried to climb the walls of the room, but several of the sisters took hold of her. Elder William McBride, an Elder of experience, was in the room and he said to me, "Come here quick." I was frightened but hurried to his side, and endeavored to put my hand upon the woman's head, but she grasped my hand in one of hers, and it seemed to me like a bird's claw; and she barked at me furiously, as a dog will bark. But we succeeded in laying our hands upon her head, and Brother McBride rebuked the evil spirit; she then became quiet and calm. The excitement caused Brother McBride to feel sick, and he withdrew. I stayed there with my hands resting upon her forehead. After a while I thought she was asleep, and I drew my hands. Just then, Parley P. Pratt came into the room and she sprang from the bed again, and with difficulty they succeeded in controlling her. Brother Pratt spoke like one who had authority. In the name of Jesus Christ he rebuked the evil spirit, and commanded it to leave the room, and we then had peace. That lady was not a member of our Church. The sisters waited upon her, and gave her a little refreshment. She talked a little while with President Pratt, and then Elder McBride and myself walked with her to, a convenient place and baptized her into the Church.

I do not want to occupy more of your tithe. I thank my Heavenly Father that He has let me live to see this people grow as we have grown. I drove a pair of oxen hitched to a little cart, and helped haul the dirt form the foundation of this Temple, when I was a little boy. I feel to rejoice that I have lived to see this Temple completed, and to see the prosperity and the power that our Heavenly Father has given to His chosen people.

May God help you to be faithful and true to the covenants you have made. I testify to you that when I have had the privilege of going into holy places. I have only been taught lessons that have helped me be a virtuous, an honest, and a prayerful man. This is my testimony to you, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The L. D. S. U. quartette sang, "The Land far away."