Kula, the district where I had gone to live, was visited about once in three months by the Presbyterian missionary who had it in charge. The Sunday after my arrival there was his day to make his quarterly visit, and I went down to the village where he was to hold his meeting. His name was Green, and he and I had met a few weeks previously, and had a conversation in which he grew very angry and said he would curse me.

There was a large attendance of natives at this meeting, and he took for his text the 8^th verse of the first chapter of Paul’s epistle to the Galatians:

“But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.”

His whole sermon, as well as his prayer previously, was directed against us, warning the natives about us; but the sermon was the poorest and most childish attempt to show what the gospel of Christ was, that I ever listened to.

After he had finished, I arose and told the people it was best to examine the gospel well, and see what its nature and requirements were, and also for each to learn whether it was in his possession or not. I then commenced to show them what the gospel was.

Up to this time Mr. Green had sat amazed, as it appeared, at my audacity. Such a thing as a person arising in a meeting and questioning what he had said, or attempting to teach anything different, was new in his experience, and he seemed so astonished that he could not speak. But when he saw that I had the attention of the people and they were listening to what I said, he aroused himself, opened a catechism which he called Aio ka la, or “Food of the day,” and commenced asking the people questions. He was determined to interrupt me, and to divert the minds of the people from what I said. Some of his deacons helped him; they answered his questions in a loud voice, and confusion began to prevail.

I saw that no further good could be done then, so I told the congregation that I intended to hold meetings, and would have opportunities of more fully explaining to them the principles of the gospel, and I stopped.

He warned the people not to entertain me, nor to salute me; if they did, they would be partakers in my evil deeds.

To this I made a suitable reply and withdrew.

From this time I commenced to labor in a more public manner among the people, speaking in their meeting houses as I could get opportunity, and doing all in my power to give them a knowledge of our principles.

My speaking before Mr. Green had a good effect; the people saw that I preached the doctrines of the Bible, and that I was not afraid to meet the preachers; the moral effect of this boldness upon a simple people like them, I found to be excellent.

And here let me say that courage in advocating and defending the truth, when tempered with wisdom, is a quality men always admire. The fear of man, and the fear of telling that portion of the truth which he is sent to declare, are feelings that no Elder should ever indulge in. The man who suffers this fear to prevail with him is never successful. The fear of God and the fear of doing wrong, is the only fear that a Latter-day Saint should ever feel.

My training during the first two years of our settlement of Salt Lake Valley, when we were pinched for food, was of excellent service to me during the days of which I write. I should have thought the meagre diet we had in the valley, rich living if I had had it then.

The people were very poor, and I did not wish to be a burden to them in the least. I avoided eating anything, therefore, that I thought they relished or that they had only occasionally. I have told you that potatoes grew spontaneously there; but the country was too warm for them; this, together with the lack of cultivation, made them very poor. The potato when good was not a vegetable I liked very much. But there I could get nothing else, excepting whortleberries, which grew wild, and which I frequently picked and ate, until one day they made me sick, after which I could not eat them any more.

I might have eaten the potatoes better if I could have had salt to eat with them; but this article they were out of just then. The only thing eatable besides the potatoes was molasses. I have never liked to eat potatoes and molasses together since then.

I well recollect how I enjoyed a meal of “poi” on one occasion during this time. The “kalo” out of which it was made, had been cooked and pounded at some distance from there (“kalo” did not grow at that time at the part of the Kula where I was), and packed in the leaves of a shrub called ki; when thus packed it was called pai kalo. It had been warm when packed, which, with the heat of the weather had made it sour and maggoty. But the people had cooked it over again, and made it into “poi.”

My potato and molasses diet had removed all my fastidiousness about what I ate, and I thought this “poi” the sweetest food I had ever tasted. Some people eat maggoty cheese because they like it; I ate this “poi” because it was the best and most palatable food I had tasted for weeks.

But what I lacked in food the Lord made up to me in the goodly degree of His Spirit which He bestowed upon me. What I had to eat was a matter of indifference to me. I was happy, and I rejoiced as I never had before. Dreams, visions and revelations were given to me, and the communion of the Spirit was most sweet and delicious.

I learned a lesson then, which I trust will never be forgotten: that there is a happiness which the servants and Saints of God can have that is not of earth, and that is not in the least dependent for its existence upon the possession of food, raiment or any earthly thing.