Hyrum Smith received the first three degrees of masonry in Ontario County, New York. Joseph and Hyrum Smith were Master Masons, yet they were massacred through the instrumentality of some of the leading men of that fraternity, and not one soul of them has ever stepped forth to administer help to me or my brethren belonging to the Masonic Institution, or to render us assistance, although bound under the strongest obligations to be true and faithful to each other in every case and under every circumstance, the commission of crime excepted."

Yes, Masons, it is said, were even among the mob that murdered Joseph and Hyrum in Carthage Jail. Joseph, leaping the fatal window, gave the masonic signal of distress. The answer was the roar of his murderers' muskets and the deadly balls that pierced his heart.

Heber continued to prosper in business, working in his pottery in summer, and at his forge in winter. He purchased land, built houses, planted orchards, and otherwise "situated himself to live comfortably."

In the spring of 1825, he gave his father a home with him in Mendon. The old gentleman was now a widower, his wife, Heber's mother, having died in February, 1824, at West Bloomfield, of consumption. Her husband survived her a little over a twelve-month, when he, too, fell a victim to the same malady.

It is a coincidence worthy of note that the deaths of Heber and Vilate were also about one year apart, she passing away first, and he, like his father, following soon the footsteps of his beloved partner to the spirit land.

We have traced his life's record through its initial stages. He was now fairly on the threshold of his remarkable career.

CHAPTER III.

HEBER'S POETIC NATURE—A ROUGH DIAMOND—EARLY RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE—JOINS THE BAPTIST CHURCH—"SIGNS IN THE HEAVENS ABOVE"—HEBER C. KIMBALL AND BRIGHAM YOUNG—THE EVERLASTING GOSPEL.

Heber's temperament was religious and poetical. Sociable as he was, and even bubbling over with mirth, at times, his soul was essentially of a solemn cast. He loved solitude, not with the selfish spirit of the misanthrope, but for the opportunities it gave of communing with his own thoughts—a pleasure that only poet minds truly feel—and of listening to the voice of God and nature, expressed in all the countless and varied forms of life.

He was capable of sensing fully—though probably he had never seen or heard—those sublime words of the poet:

    "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
      There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
    There is society, where none intrudes,
      By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
      I love not man the less, but nature more,
    From these our interviews; in which I steal
      From all I may be, or have been before,
    To mingle with the universe and feel
    What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."

True, he was a diamond in the rough, but a diamond, nevertheless, for all of its incrustations. Unlettered and untaught, save in nature's school, the university of experience, where he was an apt and profound scholar, he was possessed of marvelous intuition, a genius God-given, which needed no kindling at a college shrine to prepare it for the work which providence had designed.

Not but that education would have polished the gem, causing it to shine with what the natural eye would deem a brighter lustre; but the fact remains that Heber C. Kimball, as he was, not as he might have been, was best adapted for the divine purpose, the career marked out for him by the finger of Deity.

It is not strange that a nature of this kind, solemn, thoughtful and inspirational, should have been led early to seek "an anchor for the soul," a knowledge of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus. But his search for many years was in vain; he found not among the sects of Christendom the precious pearl which an honest soul will sell all that it hath to obtain.

"From the time I was twelve years old," says he, "I had many serious thoughts and strong desires to obtain a knowledge of salvation, but not finding anyone who could teach me the things of God, I did not embrace any principles of doctrine, but endeavored to live a moral life. The priests would tell me to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, but never would tell me what to do to be saved, and thus left me almost in despair.

"During the time I lived in Mendon, I mostly attended the meetings of the Baptist church, and was often invited to unite myself with them. I received many pressing invitations to unite with different sects, but did not see fit to comply with their desires, until a revival took place in our neighborhood. I had passed through several of their protracted meetings and had been many times upon the anxious bench to seek relief from the 'bands of sin and death.' But no relief could I find until the meetings were passed by.

"At this time I concluded to put myself under the watch-care of the Baptist church and unite myself to them; as soon as I had concluded to do this, the Lord administered peace to my mind, and accordingly, the next day I went, in company with my wife, and we were baptized by Elder Elijah Weaver; and we partook of the sacrament on that day for the first and also the last time with them."

Such was his initiation into religion, as pertaining to a Christian sectarian church. Though not in accord with the Baptist faith in all its teachings, it seemed to him to be nearest right according to the Bible; probably from the stress laid upon baptism by immersion, manifestly the Bible mode, and the only true way of being "born of the water." Besides, he deemed it wise to put a "guard" upon himself, to "keep him from running into evils."

The peace of mind that he experienced, as the sanction of the Holy One upon a prudent and conscientious act, was but the prelude and prophecy of far greater things to follow. The heavens were bestirring themselves. The invisible world was up in arms. Truth and Error were taking the field. The latter-day conflict had begun. The signs of the coming of the Son of Man were showing themselves in the heavens.

It was the eventful night of September 22nd, 1827. Says Heber C.
Kimball:

"I had retired to bed, when John P. Greene, who was living within a hundred steps of my house, came and waked me up, calling upon me to come out and behold the scenery in the heavens. I woke up and called my wife and Sister Fanny Young (sister to Brigham Young), who was living with us, and we went out-of-doors.

"It was one of the most beautiful starlight nights, so clear that we could see to pick up a pin. We looked to the eastern horizon, and beheld a white smoke arise toward the heavens; as it ascended it formed itself into a belt, and made a noise like the sound of a mighty wind, and continued southwest, forming a regular bow dipping in the western horizon. After the bow had formed, it began to widen out and grow clear and transparent, of a bluish cast; it grew wide enough to contain twelve men abreast.

"In this bow an army moved, commencing from the east and marching to the west; they continued marching until they reached the western horizon. They moved in platoons, and walked so close that the rear ranks trod in the steps of their file leaders, until the whole bow was literally crowded with soldiers. We could distinctly see the muskets, bayonets and knapsacks of the men, who wore caps and feathers like those used by the American soldiers in the last war with Britain; and also saw their officers with their swords and equipage, and the clashing and jingling of their implements of war,