would be possible for his companion to receive the desired ordinance, but that consent must be gained from the boy's parents. Again Briant took upon himself the responsibility of gaining that permission; but the opportunity did not come in this life.

He was extending his little missionary labors up to the very hour that he was stricken. Several other boys had aroused his interest, and sometimes he confided to his father that he hoped to see these companions do much good, though their ways were not always becoming to children who believed in the gospel. On more than one occasion when he found these boys lapsing into wrong-doing or carelessness, he confessed to his father a fear that he would not be able to do them any good, and that he must cease his association with them. And yet he always returned to the labor with renewed hope and courage.

It is a dangerous experiment to trust one good boy with a number of playmates who are not what they should be; because, as a rule, he learns to partake with them. But Brother Stevens gives a marvelous testimony to the worth of his son when he says:

"I never felt the slightest fear for Briant. In this matter I knew that he was led by a good Spirit, and I trusted him implicitly and without requiring him to account for his conduct. He seemed in all matters of goodness to be easily impressed; but evil appeared, if not incomprehensible, at least entirely unattractive to him."

The teacher of the Preceptor Class which Briant attended was Brother Austin C. Brown; he says that the questions which Briant propounded to him occasioned great marvel in his mind. The clearness with which the young boy spoke of the principles of the gospel, the perfect understanding which he seemed to gain, almost intuitively, of the truth, were as surprising as they were gratifying. In other matters the boy was very precocious. He attended the academic department of the Central School of Ogden, and was the youngest, though not the last, in his class. He early developed a talent for drawing and painting, and his parents and friends are now in possession of some exquisite little gems produced by him.

Before he received the Priesthood he was a constant attendant upon the meetings of his young brethren, the Deacons; and he anxiously awaited the time when he could be deemed of sufficient age and worth to receive an ordination to this calling. He had the highest reverence for the Priesthood, and he believed most firmly in the power of the gospel. Whenever he was in pain or illness, his sole desire was for the blessing of his father or other Elders of the Church. Several times he was instantly healed from infirmities under the administration of the servants of God.

At home he was perpetual sunshine. From the hour that he was 10 years old he never permitted his father to attend to any of the labors in the garden or with the stock which his young hands could perform. He was so kind to the horse and the cow, and the other domestic animals, that they learned to know him and to love him perfectly. Even the cat would follow him through the garden, and run to rub her head against his leg. The parrot, when released from its cage, would follow him about the house like a dog. It would mount to his shoulder and kiss his cheeks or lips daintily and tenderly; while with everybody else it showed the crossness for which parrots are proverbial, biting, scolding and clawing at the slightest attempt at familiarity.

Briant kept many pigeons—often as many as fifty at one time. They knew him and flocked about him fearlessly. He gave many of them away to his young friends, but never without exacting a promise from the boys that they would be kind to the birds and would not sell them to anyone who would abuse them. He had a great horror of the cruelty of pigeon-shooting matches, and would not sell one of his doves for such a purpose under any circumstances, or for any amount of money. If strange boys came to him to buy pigeons, he invariably enquired for what purpose they were purchased. And unless the buyers would give him a faithful promise not to sell the birds for shooting-matches, he would not part with his pets.

Whenever he received money from the sale of pigeons, he carried it to his father, and offered it with the remark that he cared nothing for it, and wanted his father to use it for the best purpose. He had but one extravagance with money—and that was to give it to the poor. Not only would he part with his last dime for this purpose, but often he borrowed money from his relatives and friends to give to the needy.

About four years before Briant's death, his little brother, Jordan, died. The two had been inseparable—brothers in the fullest sense. They shared all their possessions equally; and one never felt content without the presence and happiness of the other. When Jordan passed from earth, Briant said to his father:

"I know that my dear little brother is happy and well; but I cannot help feeling lonesome."

He gathered up Jordan's share of the toys and books which had belonged to them, and put them sacredly away. To this hour they remain in the place and in the order where they were put by his loving little hands.

A few months before Briant was stricken he lost a favorite pigeon. It was a snow-white bird which had belonged to Jordan. When Briant found that it was surely gone he shed some tears, and said to his mother:

"I would have preferred to lose all my other pigeons than to have lost Whitey, for that was little Jordie's pet."

Then he drew a perfect picture of the lost bird and placed it in a nook in the barn, underneath these words:

"Whitey, nine years old."

With all the many virtues and the thoughtfulness of this little boy, he was not mawkish in his manner. At times, when deeply impressed, he was solemn in word and look; but he was full of healthy sentiment, and was bubbling over with energy and brightness.

CHAPTER II.

ACCIDENTS TO BRIANT—HE IS ORDAINED TO THE PRIESTHOOD—PATIENT ENDURANCE OF HIS SUFFERINGS—HE IS BLESSED TO BE AN ELDER AND THEN SLUMBERS IN DEATH.

In October last, 1886, with a number of companions Briant was playing on a trapeze at the house of a friend, when he fell and broke his right arm. After the accident, Briant did not hurry to his home, which was only a block away; but an hour later his father found him at the doctor's office, where the arm had been set. Briant was perfectly composed; and, instead of crying as most boys do when a new sympathiser comes, he gave his first thought to his mother, who had been quite ill and had not yet entirely recovered. He said to his father:

"I hope mamma does not know of this. If not, then we will keep it from her; because she would worry a great deal, and the anxiety might make her worse."

When they went home Briant bounded into the house with a smile on his lips, and in reply to his mother's anxious questions he said:

"Nothing serious, mamma. I have strained my arm; but it will be well in a few days."

He kissed her and then ran laughing from the room, although at the time he must have been suffering excruciating pain. Some time elapsed before his mother knew the truth; and then she did not learn it from Briant.

He had recovered from the outward appearance of his injury to his arm, but it was not yet strong, when he met with another and more serious accident. With two of his companions he was jumping from a low roof, when his foot caught and he fell headlong to the ground. The weak arm received the weight of the shock; the old break was re-opened and the bones were split in a new place, and one of them protruded from a bleeding wound in the wrist. He had fallen upon a heap of sand, and when he rose to his feet he found that in the gash made by the broken bone the sand and dirt had penetrated. He sat down and wiped his wrist and the bone clean, put back the bone inside the flesh of his arm, and then started for the doctor's office. As in the