The Mormons often visited our camp, selling us butter, vegetables, and such supplies as they had to spare. Owing to the conflicting stories I had heard about them, I watched them very closely. Some of our company were Missouri mobocrats, who told hard stories about the Mormons. These they related to me as though they were their own personal experiences with them. Some of these men I had known for years and looked upon them as men of truth and honor. How then could I help believing their stories? And yet, how could I believe people to be such monsters of iniquity as the Mormons must have been if these stories were true? When looking at their friendly eyes and hearing their voices of sympathy, I could see nothing that indicated depravity, but on the contrary, all seemed industrious, kind, honest and peaceable, ever ready to do us a favor or give any wanted information frankly, without any show of craftiness whatever. To this day it is a mystery to me how anyone can call the Mormon people crafty and dishonest. That individuals among us may be, is too true; but as a people we have a right to be judged collectively, let each person answer for himself I was sorely perplexed, but each day induced a more friendly feeling toward the Mormons. As yet I had never heard a word of their doctrine, or history, not even having heard of Joseph Smith's martyrdom. In fact, I knew nothing about them. One of our company, who boasted of his cruel exploits in Missouri, went up to the fort and under the guise of friendship procured a book of Doctrine and Covenants from a Sister Higbee, to read and make sport of. There were a number listening and ridiculing the book. I was some distance away, lying alone in the shade. I though I might enjoy the fun with the rest and crawled up nearer. When I got within hearing distance something was being read about God revealing Himself, telling certain ones what to do. This had a peculiar effect on my mind. My oft-repeated prayer asking for this very thing came to my mind. I had heard but very little of their reading, for just as I came within hearing distance some one took the book from the mobocrat and read the account of Joseph and Hyrum's martyrdom. On hearing this I believe I felt just as the Saints did when they first heard of the murder of the prophets at Carthage. The feeling that came upon me at that time was that they were men of God and were murdered by wicked men just as it was there recorded. At once the desire came over me to get away from those who were exulting over their death, and deriding the revelations that I thought might be true. So I determined to stop and see who the Mormons were. I asked the first teamster that passed to take me to the fort, about two miles distant, as I wished to see if I could find some one to take care of me. After being helped on the wagon, the owner, Thomas Ross, asked me a few questions then remarked, "You had better remain in Utah, my son, and you will soon be a Mormon."