Later in the day Captain Jones was dispatched to Hon. O.H. Browning, a prominent lawyer of Quincy, to secure his professional services in the pending trial. Cyrus Wheelock left for Nauvoo a little after noon to obtain witnesses. Before going he left a six-shooting revolver belonging to Elder Taylor with the Prophet. Stephen Markham being seen on the street was captured, put on his horse and compelled to leave town at the point of the bayonet. The departure of these brethren left only John Taylor and Willard Richards with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum. The afternoon drew its slow length along. The four friends carried on a desultory conversation, in which Elder Richards remarked: "Brother Joseph, if it is necessary that you die in this matter, and if they will take me in your stead, I will suffer for you." Other thoughts were passing through the mind of Elder Taylor. He regarded the whole thing as an outrage on their liberties and rights; and the mob proceedings under the forms of law a legal farce. As he contemplated these acts of injustice he broke out with--"Brother Joseph, if you will permit it, and say the word, I will have you out of this prison in five hours, if the jail has to come down to do it." His idea was to go to Nauvoo, collect a sufficient force of the brethren to liberate his friends. Joseph refused to sanction such a course. The four friends were sitting in a large, square room in the prison, usually occupied by men imprisoned for the lighter offenses. The afternoon was warm and the spirits of the brethren extremely dull and depressed--did the shadow of their impending fate begin to fall upon them? Elder Taylor sang the following song, which had recently been introduced into Nauvoo. The tune is the one to which he sang it on that melancholy occasion: A poor, wayfaring man of grief Hath often crossed me on my way; Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer "Nay." I had not power to ask his name, Whither he went, or whence he came; Yet there was something in his eye That won my love, I knew not why. Once when my scanty meal was spread, He entered--not a word he spake! Just perishing for want of bread; I gave him all; he blessed it, brake, And ate, but gave me part again; Mine was an angel's portion then; For while I fed with eager haste The crust was manna to my taste. I spied him where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; The heedless water mocked his thirst; He heard it, saw it hurrying on-- I ran and raised the sufferer up; Thrice from the stream he drained my cup; Dipped, and returned it running o'er; I drank, and never thirsted more.