"We Jackson County boys know how it is, and therefore have not the extreme hatred and prejudice which characterizes the rest of the troops. We know perfectly well from the beginning that the Mormons have not been the aggressors at all. As it began in 1833 in Jackson County, Mo., so it has been ever since.... We mob you without law; the authorities refuse to protect you according to law, you then are compelled to protect yourselves, and we act upon the prejudices of the public, who join our forces and the whole is legalized for your destruction and our gain ... When we drove you from Jackson County we burned 203 of your houses, plundered your goods, destroyed your press, type and paper, books, office and all--tarred and feathered old Bishop Partridge--as exemplary an old man as you can find anywhere. We shot down some of your men, and if any of you returned the fire, we imprisoned you and had you on trial for murder. D--d shrewdly done, gentlemen; and I came d--d near kicking the bucket myself; for on one occasion while we were tearing down houses, driving families and destroying and plundering goods, some of you good folks put a ball through my son's body, and another through the arm of my clerk, and a third pierced my shirt collar and marked my neck. No blame, gentlemen; we deserved it, and let a set of men serve me as your community have been served, and I'll be d--d if I would not fight till I died." Most certainly this was an honest confession, and I can certify to nearly all of his acknowledgments, for I have been driven from my home and robbed of my hard-earned property more than once. There are many others besides General Wilson who have acknowledged to the same things, for I have personally heard them. When the brethren were being hurried away, as prisoners, from their homes, P. P. Pratt says: "I went to General Moses Wilson in tears, and stated the circumstances of my sick, heart-broken, destitute family, in terms which would have moved any heart that had a latent spark of humanity yet remaining, but I was only answered with an exultant laugh and a taunt of reproach by this hardened murderer. Halting at the door of Hyrum Smith, I heard the sobs and groans of his wife at Hyrum's parting. She was then near confinement and needed more than ever the comfort and consolation of a husband's presence. As we returned to the wagon we witnessed the sad, parting of Sidney Rigdon and his family, and in the same wagon was Joseph Smith, while his aged father and mother came up overwhelmed with tears, and took each of the prisoners by the hand with a silence of grief too great for utterance.