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Speaker: Glenn Rawson
Hi, this is Glenn Rawson. One of the most powerful ways to share history and heritage is by the telling of stories. We began sharing inspiring stories nearly 30 years ago. Each of those stories is true and was intended to inspire and strengthen faith. Over the years, those stories have reached millions around the world. This podcast is for you to listen, learn and enjoy.
Eliza Edmunds Hewitt
I remember hearing and it might have been one of those Elder Maxwell quotes that I’m ruining but, I remember hearing once that “It is our attitude, not our aptitude that will ultimately determine our altitude.”
I think I said that right. Well, this next story is about being of good cheer.
Alright, Eliza Edmunds Hewitt was born June 28, 1851, the daughter of Captain James Stratton Hewitt and Zeruiah Stites Edmunds Hewitt. She was educated in a girl’s normal school in Philadelphia, where she graduated as the valedictorian. She then took a position teaching public schools and also served on the staff of the Northern Home for Friendless Children.
She was (and I understand this), a teacher, and she loved children. Story is told though that one day while trying to correct a student, the student struck her on the back with the point of a slate, severely injuring her. She was thereafter put in a heavy cast for six months and confined to her bed. Her career was effectively over, and for quite some time, Eliza was an invalid.
Now, just imagine this for a moment. The forced confinement, loss of a career, the bitterness, the disappointing circumstances, that could have made Eliza very bitter. She had more than enough reason to be angry at life and at God. But instead, Eliza chose to study English literature.
And so she would pass the time studying and singing sacred songs. It is said that one warm spring day after some measure of recovery, Eliza was allowed to go outside and take a walk through Fairmount Park. The blessed spring sunshine warmed her soul within and without, and Eliza returned to her bed and wrote one of her first of many hymns to follow. She wrote these words,
There is sunshine in my soul today,
More glorious and bright
Than glows in any earthly sky,
For Jesus is my light.
Eliza Edmunds Hewitt loved the Lord and wrote many songs of glorious praise. It is noteworthy, at least to me that Eliza, who could have succumbed to anger, pain, bitterness, chose instead, to feel and to say, “There is gladness in my soul today, and hope and praise and love for blessings which he gives me now for joys laid up above.”
My friends, we live in a time of pandemic and social suffering. So many have been isolated for so long. Isn’t there a powerful lesson and example in this story, relevant for all of us? I think there is, at least for me.
You Saw John the Revelator
You remember when the Apostle Paul said, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” This is one man’s testimony of just that very truth.
Martha Cox, who I believe is one of my relatives, tells the story of a family friend that used to come and stay with them while working on the St. George Temple in the 1870s. She called him uncle Allen Stout.
Now he (and Allen) had been a friend and a bodyguard of the Prophet Joseph Smith and Nauvoo. And because of that Martha asked him many questions. And though Allen was not much to volunteer information, he would answer Martha’s questions. By this means she learned much about early church history.
One day, Martha made a statement, “…that I thought it could not be possible for me to see a heavenly being.”
Uncle Allen responded, she said, “That she might see one without recognizing it as such as happened once with him.”
Of course, that stirred Martha’s curiosity big time, and she wanted to know what had happened to him. And this was how he related it to her.
“He told me he was once walking with the Prophet on the west side of the Mississippi River, on the road to Montrose. They saw a man walking along the road leading from the south, and coming towards the Prophet. The Prophet told Allen to remain where he was, while he stepped over to speak with this pedestrian.”
“Allen turned his back towards Joseph and the stranger, and for a time forgot the Prophet and became engaged with his own thoughts. While he stood “whipping a low bush with the cane he carried.”
“The hand of the Prophet upon his shoulder aroused him, the Prophet said, “We must return immediately to Nauvoo.” And they walked silently and rapidly.
Allen became very sorrowful over his recreation, see to his duty, and could not refrain from weeping. The Prophet asked him why he wept. Allen confessed, “I am an inefficient bodyguard, criminally neglectful of your welfare, I allowed that man you met to speak with you without being even ready to defend if he attacked you. He could have killed you and made us escape without my knowing who he is, which way he went, or what he even looks like.”
And then Allen continued, “You will have to dispense with my services, and take a guard on which you can depend. Your life is too precious to be trusted with my care.”
The Prophet then said, “That man would not harm me. You saw John the Revelator.”
Now, I don’t want to say anything inappropriate. But I strongly believe what Paul said that there are angels all around us and sometimes they look just like normal, everyday people. And they are part of heaven, and watching us and sent here to help us. Sometimes we see them. Sometimes we hear them, but they’re always there. Moving on.
Francis Webster’s Testimony
I don’t usually make a habit out of telling the end of the story first, but in this case, it’s probably necessary. The story I’m about to relate has been one of the most beloved pioneer stories, since it was first told by William R. Palmer, in 1943, in a radio broadcast in Cedar City, Utah.
Now by way of background, in 1856, and you know the story, five companies of Latter-Day Saints crossed the Great Plains by handcart. Of those five companies three passed successfully with little or no incident. But the last two companies, the Willie and Martin companies, were trapped by heavy winter snows on the high plains of Wyoming. Over 200 souls perished.
Now that is a remarkable story of courage, faith and compassion. And I’ll speak about it again later on.
One of the immigrants in the Martin Company was Francis Webster. Many years later, probably just after the turn of the 20th century. The following incident occurred as related by eyewitness, William Palmer. He said, “I heard a testimony once that made me tingle the roots of my hair.”
“I was in an adult Sunday School class of over 50 men and women. The subject under discussion was the ill-fated handcart company that suffered so terribly in the snow in 1856. Some sharp criticism of the church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan could afford it.” You’ll recognize the story right here.
One old man in the corner sat silent, and listened as long as he could stand it. Then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity. He said in substance, “I asked you to stop this criticism, you are discussing a matter you know nothing about.”
“Cold historic facts mean nothing here for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake, they send the handcart company out so late in the season. Yes. But I was in that company. And my wife was there too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine, and many died of exposure and starvation.”
“But did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism, not one of that company, he said, ever apostatized or left the church, because every one of us came through with an absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities.”
And then Webster continued, “I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food, that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hillslope. And I have said, “I can go only that far and there I must give up for I cannot pull the load through it. I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me.”
“I have looked back, ” Webster said, many times to see who was pushing my cart but my eyes saw no one. I knew that the angels of God were there. Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since the price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay and I am thankful that I was privileged to come to the Martin Handcart Company.
The speaker was Francis Webster. And when he sat down, Palmer said there was not a dry eye in the room. “We were a subdued and chasing plot.”
Now, my friends, what I have related is the end of the story. And it is a powerful, instructive and inspiring story that I have heard for decades. But if you knew the beginning of the story, the journey of Francis and Betsy Webster with the Martin Company, you would agree that this account is even more meaningful.
Francis Webster’s Journey
Now as Paul Harvey used to say, this is the rest of the story. Indeed, this is the beginning of the story.
Francis Webster was born February 8, 1830 in England. He was born a sickly child with little chance of surviving to adulthood. When he was 18-years old, missionaries brought him the gospel.
In the spring of 1852, Francis met Ann Elizabeth Betsy Parsons, his future wife. About a year later, Francis set out to make his fortune with Betsy promising to wait for him until she was 21 years old.
When Francis returned in the summer of 1855, it was with $2,000 in gold. December 5, 1855 Francis and Betsy were married. And like so many others, they were determined to gather with the saints in America.
However, unlike so many others, Francis and Betsy now had the means to travel very comfortably across the plains. Francis arranged for a wagon, ox teams and supplies to be waiting for them at the trailhead in Iowa.
Betsy was expecting their first child. The year 1856 was hard for the church, famine and drought had so reduced resources that it was determined that a cheaper means must be found in crossing the plains. Thus was launched the idea of handcart companies.
With the rest of the London branch traveling by handcart. Could Francis and Betsy travel in relative comfort? Well, they counseled together and made the decision to give up their team, wagon and possessions, their comfort for a handcart.
Moreover, as they prepared to leave for America, they took that money and paved the way for nine other people to make the journey.
July 9, 1856, Iowa City, Iowa there were not enough handcarts ready for them. So Francis and Betsy chose to share their handcart with William and Amy Middleton – Betsy’s mother and stepfather.
Once again, the Webster’s were forced or chose to abandon more of their belongings. Not only that now, William went to help with the supply wagons effectively leaving Francis to pull the double loaded handcart all alone.
September 15, 1856, the Martin Company made their longest day’s journey, pulling 22 miles.
James Blake, also from England, the London branch had been very ill and recorded the following on that day in his journal, “I began to draw the handcart this morning, but was obliged to leave it. Brother Francis Webster very kindly persuaded me to ride on his handcart and drew me 17 miles for kindness. I feel grateful and pray to God to bless him with health and strength.”
September 27, Betsy gave birth to a daughter whom they would name Amy. Time was critically short however, and the next day the company pushed on. Betsy had to ride until she recovered. At the same time, the trail passed through the sandhills of Nebraska.
Francis would later speak of struggling to pull his handcart through deep sand and looking back for the angels assisting him. That’s where it happened.
October 19, 1856, the storms caught the Martin Handcart Company on the high plains of Wyoming near the Platte River. Clothing and rations were woefully inadequate to fortify them against the bitter cold. Rescue parties would later describe the awful scene.
“You can imagine between five and 600 men, women and children worn down by drawing their hand carts through snow and mud, fainting by the wayside, chilled by the cold, children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding. The site is almost too much for the stoutest of us”. So said the rescuers.
Francis and Betsy Webster would be among those who suffered. Francis wrote, “My own feet were badly frozen on the journey.”
The Webster’s reached Salt Lake City on November 30, 1856. Within two days, they would be on their way to Cedar City, Utah, where they would live out the remainder of their days in distinguished service. It was shortly before Francis Webster died, that he bore that remarkable testimony in Sunday school.
Knowing that Francis and Betsy Webster didn’t have to come by handcart, that they paid passage for nine others and that they helped others along the way and gave up their belongings and arrived in the valley with virtually nothing, having left it all along the trail and for the rest of their lives, refused to murmur but continued to serve and sacrifice and help others not only on the trail, but for the rest of their days in Cedar City makes Francis Webster’s testimony in Sunday school even more worthy of the legendary status it has attained.
In case you would like more information on this, and sources my friend historian Chad Orton published an article on Francis Webster in the BYU studies in 2006. There you’ll find the sources well researched on the details I’ve given you.
Thank you for listening. Many of the stories you heard today have been published and are archived at glennrawsonstories.com. If you would like more information you can communicate with us there. We will be back again with another podcast next week.
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