AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF HYRUM BELNAP
On the twenty-fourth day of March in the year of our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty Eight, in the City of Ogden, the County of Weber and the Territory of Utah. I was born of goodly parents, who reared me in the fear and admonition of the Lord.
Unfortunate for me, however, this was the winter the Government of the United States, through misrepresentation, sent an army to subdue some supposed trouble in Utah.
My parents, Gilbert and Adaline Belnap, on the morning I was four weeks old, according to counsel, in company with many others, yoked up their cattle enroute for the South, in order to avoid difficulty with the soldiers that were then stationed on the summit of the Rocky Mountains.
The falling rain, the beating hail and the snow that spread all around, as my parents were oft times camped within the blistering air, beneath the shadows of the old family quilt, stretched upon sticks, fastened to the four corners, was, no doubt, one of the principal causes of my ill health until I was nearly thirteen years of age.
When the soldiers, under command of General Johnson, found it a difficult matter to go farther without assistance, they agreed to enter Salt Lake Valley peaceably.
Their stay had not been long in Salt Lake City when they found that the Government had been misinformed. Hence peace was declared and the Saints quietly returned to their several homes.
When we were quietly living on the banks of Weber River, in the suburbs of Ogden, Gilbert and Reuben, my elder brothers harnessed their animals and started for Ogden Canyon to obtain a load of Wood.
Thinking it would be such a pleasant trip to ascend those lofty mountains, I earnestly beseeched mother until she consented for me to accompany them.
It would be difficult for tongue to express or pen to illustrate my feelings when we entered those gorges which passed between the mountain cliffs. These were only a few hundred feet apart near the base, but extending almost perpendicularly from five to six thousand feet into the air.
A few moments more found me toddling along behind some large drags of wood, which my brother had procured from the mountain side. About half way down the dragway the black horse, led by the younger of the two brothers, was pulled down the side hill by his drag for a short distance, when the drag whipped around one side of a large stump with him on the other side. This stripped the harness almost entirely off from the horse, but one of the large straps caught in the shoe of his front feet, suspending the poor horse in the air.
The pitiful balls of the animal and seeing him fall, when the strap was cut, some twenty feet below amid the rocks and timber, stamp a picture on my mind, which is as bright at present as the noon day sun on a lovely summer’s morning.
At the age of nine years, just below the Ogden River Bridge, I was baptized by James Owen and confirmed by David M. Stuart, to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latte Day Saints.
Father remained on the banks of the Weber River until the spring of Sixty Nine when he took his family and moved a little southwest of Ogden to assist in the building up a new settlement, which was given the name of Hooperville.
At our new home we spent a happy life, tilling the soil and harvesting the golden grains for many long years.
Occasionally we children were permitted to attend school during the winter months.
At length I was favorably blessed with an opportunity of attending Prof. L. F. Moench’s school during the winter of Seventy-seven and Eight, taught in the Court House in Ogden.
The following summer, after the grain was all planted, and the first crop of hay was neatly placed within the stackyard, one of my elder brothers, Oliver, by name and myself spent part of the summer laboring for an Italian by the name of Beus.
In the months of August and September, I drove Lewis Beus’ team up Bear River, one hundred and fifty miles northeast of Ogden, in the Territory of Idaho.
This was my first trip from home within my recollection, and I must admit, a very enjoyable one, for we passed thru the many beautiful villages of Cache Valley.
A very pleasant time was spent the following morning drinking sodawater, sweetened by sugar at the City Spring.
Owing to some misunderstanding we did not go down the river with ties according to our former calculation. Hence we returned home by the lovely valley, Bear Lake.
My next outing from home was in the Spring of Seventy-nine when John Staker Jr. and I took a short tour thru what is known as the Pool’s settlement in the northern end of Snake River Valley, about two hundred thirty-eight miles north of Ogden in the Territory of Idaho.
On this trip a lovely time was spent in fishing and hunting. We arrived home in the forepart of June, apparently as glad as if we had taken a grand tour around the world.
My stay had only been a few days at home when I received a call from President John Taylor to go as a minister of the Gospel of Peace to a fallen world. This shock was terrifying to my very soul, but believing it to be a command from my Heavenly Father, I willingly responded to the call.
On the 10th of June I was re-baptized by my father, Gilbert Belnap. The following day he and I went to Salt Lake City. On the 12th I was ordained an elder by William J. Smith and on the same day received my endowments. Then, on the 14th we went to the recorder’s office where we missionaries were set apart for our several missions. On this occasion I was set apart by Joseph Young Sen., after which we received our letters of appointment and returned home to make preparations for our departure.
At the time I was set apart for my mission I was also ordained a Seventy.
Hence, on the evening of the 18th day of June, Seventy-nine, I left my much loved home at Hoopeville, enroute for the South.
The first night was spent in the place of my birth, a beautiful city on the western slope of the Wasatch Mountains.
The following morning I was met by many friends and relatives at the Union Pacific Depot. My feelings at this moment no human tongue can tell, but with bowed head and tearful eyes, in connection with several others, I took the train at 10:20 and started eastward, leaving friends, kindreds and those who were dear to my heart, standing on the platform with tears rolling down their cheeks.
At first we felt sad and lonely, but as we neared Weber Canyon, our grief wore off and our sorrow fled away. Soon we were gazing at the foaming waters of the river and the cliffs on either side of the track, towering hundreds of feet into the air. In a few moments more we burst into a lovely valley, which was about seven miles wide and fifteen feet long, filled with green fields and waving meadows, occasionally decked with forest timber.
With scenes of this kind on every hand, we rode up the river bottom until we reached the mouth of Echo Canyon. Here we left the waving meadows and started up a somewhat singular canyon, whose rocks were of a reddish rusty color, and the hills were almost destitute of timber, only a scanty wild grass and a few shrubs could be seen.
As the sun cast his last rays on the mountain tops, we found ourselves on the banks of Green River, one hundred and eighty miles from home. At this point the brakeman came in and shouted, at the top of his voice, “twenty minutes for supper.”
1879
After refreshments we moved onward, when night closed in on us and darkness hovered around and shut out from our view the many scenes that caused the heart to throw off its cares and time to pass on lightning wings. Therefore we spent some eight hours with nothing to break the silence but the rattling wheel and the puffing steam. When day dawn made its appearance nothing could be seen, but saleratus hills, now and then decked with ragged rocks, which looked like desolation itself. Here we found ourselves about eight thousand feet above the sea level, riding down the western slope of the Laramie Plains. Soon, by the wayside was seen a herd of wild animals, some nearly the size of a small deer, with a spotted neck and breast. Others that stood farther from the track were nearly the size of a three year old heifer. The latter stood still with their heads erect, showing plainly their heavy scraggly horns, that were of an immense size. Being curious to know the kind of animals we were gazing upon, I made inquiries and was informed that those cunning little fellows that galloped along so fearlessly were antelopes, and the others that stood so firm and erect were elk.
At four o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at a small station about six miles west of Cheyenne. Here we took the Colorado Central for Denver.
We had not gone over thirty miles within the bound of the Western States when the country began to present an appearance of civilization, which was far different from anything we had seen for nearly four hundred miles.
About ten o’clock that night, we arrived in the City of Denver. Here the platform was crowded with people and to hear the rustling sound and the hotel singers shout rather set my nerves on end, for such a confusion I never before had experienced. Soon we found ourselves in a lovely hotel, where we retired to silent repose to dream of the many scenes that would come and go before our eyes.
June 1879
On the morning of the 19th, we awoke from the peaceful slumbers of the night and found ourselves in a stirring little city, with a population of about 30,000. By passing thru the body of the town, gazing upon the many scenes, our eyes soon fell upon some beautiful residences, well furnished, with lovely lawns all around, also magnificent mercantile buildings and other business establishments.
About ten o’clock we took the train and continued on our journey eastward. Not many hours had passed by when we came out on a trackless plain, which, to the eye, seemed to reach the blue sky on every side.
Nothing but the same scene apparently coming and going before our eyes could we behold until the shades of night came on; and when the last rays of the sun passed behind the waving horizon, a dark and gloomy cloud arose in the northeast, filling the air with incessant flashes of lightning, followed by loud peals of thunder. Thus the darkning hours of night rolled by.
When the twilight of another day began to spread around, we found ourselves riding at the rate of thirty miles per hour thru immense corn and wheat fields.
The next mentionable feature of the trip was the Kansas River, which ran slowly thru forests of timber, near the center of the state. This was the first time I had ever beheld corn and wheat growing amid forests of timber.
About one o’clock we passed thru Topeka City, the capitol of Kansas State. The air was filled with a misty rain and the streets were flooded with water.
At sunset we arrived at Kansas City, situated on the boundary lines between Kansas and Missouri. The body of the town is located on the top of a hill where a beautiful scene can be had of the surrounding country. The city as a whole contains a population of about 150,000.
At the foot of the hill we changed cars and rode out upon the elevated bridge that spanned the foaming Missouri. Here was a sight that attracted the attention of us mountain boys—a river from one half to three quarters of a mile wide thickened with a reddish clay that had been washed from the river banks, and upon its waters could be seen the steamboat sailing to and from it source.
As we entered the dismal forests on the opposite side of the river, night came on, and thus we hurriedly passed thru the State of Missouri.
The next morning at seven o’clock we arrived in St. Louis and took rooms at the Union Depot Hotel. We enjoyed walking around and learning what we could about the city. The whole town is situated on rolling hills, extending for miles along the banks of the Mississippi River. The population is about 550,000. The houses were mostly large and the streets were generally narrow. A heavy fog covers the city a great deal of the time, causing a thick smoke from the engine, the steamboat and many manufacturing establishments to settle upon the city, making the buildings present an appearance of a dark, rusty color. On the southern suburbs the cars run in a tunnel coming out on the great bridge that crosses the Mississippi River on the east side of the city.
June 1879
Later in the day several of us boys, while down on the wharf, went on board the steamer Holady, passed thru her several halls and upon deck where we had a fair opportunity of viewing the hundreds of steamers harbored along the river and as far as the eye would reach up or down the river.
On Sunday morning, the following day, some twelve of us Mormon boys, or as the by-standers called us, Brighamites, renewed our tour thru the city. As this was the Sabbath Day most of our time was spent in visiting the different churches, witnessing their many forms of worship. Towards evening, George H. Carver and myself crossed the wonderful bridge that cost $14,000,000 into Illinois and came back, all for ten cents.
At nine o’clock the same evening, we took the Missouri and Iron Mountain train and started down the Mississippi leaving of our party, F. McDonald, Samuel Butterfield and Gordon Bills, who sailed up the Ohio River to Kentucky.
At seven o’clock in the morning of the 23rd we crossed the Mississippi River by running the cars on to a steamboat to Columbus, Kentucky. We stopped at Union City, on the line of Tennessee for breakfast. Here we parted with Henry Bartholomew and John Gibson, who were bound for Corinth, Mississippi.
When darkness began to spread over the land, George H. Carver and I parted with the remainder of the company at Nashville, Tennessee, which consisted of D. H. Peery and wife, W. W. Fife, Levi P. Helm, Picket, McCunning, S. C. Stephens and N. Shurtliff.
The following morning Carver and I took a branch road for Columbia, about forty miles south, where we engaged Walkers and Packers train to carry us to Shady Grove, some sixteen miles distant. We passed over thirteen miles of our journey and arrived at a family of Saints by the name of Mullen. Having with us our two large valises and some other traps we concluded it would be a good idea to stop over night.
You may rest assured we were as glad to meet a smiling face and friendly hand as if we were meeting a brother or sister after a separation of several years.
On the morning of the 25th we completed our journey and put up at Robert R. Church’s where we were received with great kindness. The kindness of Uncle Robin and the welcome smile of Aunt Lora made us feel like we had arrived home.
On the following day, after a pleasant night’s rest, we began to look around ourselves, almost wondering where we had flown to so quickly. By calling our reasoning faculties together, we found ourselves quietly resting in the midst of a branch of the Church, composed of kindhearted, good natured souls, quite comfortably situated on the banks of Duck River, near the joining lines of Hickman and Murry counties, not far from the central part of Tennessee.
In a few days our joy was increased by meeting Joseph Argyle and Martin Garn, who were traveling elders in the conference.
Our time was very pleasantly spent until the 12th of July in visiting the saints and friends and in assiduous study of the scriptures and other Church works.
During this time, however, we had the pleasure of attending several of our own meetings and a number held by different Protestants.
The first outside meeting we visited, was held at Pleasant Ridge about one and a half miles south east of Robin Church’s. The assembly was called to order by Parson Hull, a missionary Baptist, then, with a long face and a forlorn look, he read one verse of a hymn, which the congregation began to sing, and as they commenced singing the whole assembly arose to their feet and sang with great fervency. Their manner of prayer seemed peculiar to me. The parson arose and said, “We will engage in prayer,” at the same time calling upon a gentleman, who sat in the amen corner to be mouth. Those who belonged to this particular sect knelt down, others bowed their heads and still another class sat gazing around the room as if looking for something to laugh at.