(Story from the journal of Christian John Larsen - Tuesday, August 13th, 1864)

     The previous day I had been cutting hay with a scythe and my garments had
become wet from sweating, and I, therefore, asked my wife to let me have another
garment, but she told me that she had only a new one but had not got it finished with
the proper marks, and I therefore, did not take it or put it on;  we always traveled in
companies but I had  some extra work this morning to do and when I got ready and
started, I had no company except my 9 year old son, but we reached two other teams
before getting to the most dangerous part of our way through the cedars and up hill
over the range, {known as Pigeon Hollow - 8 miles south of Mt. Plesant} before we
could reach the meadow, and I was therefore, behind the rest of the company.  When
I had just reached the top of the last hill, the report of guns reached us, and looking
back, we saw some Indians, only 5 or 6 rods from us.  I had my gun fastened to the
upright ladder on my hay rack, and was myself standing upright, when looking to
the left, I saw about 15 or 20 Indians not more than two rods away from my wagon; 
the other two wagons were on the right of the road.  I shall not attempt to describe
my feelings and the thoughts that flashed through my mind during those moments
and while I was getting my lines untied and my black snake whip in my hand, there
were two of the Indians trying to get ahead of my team to stop it, but failing in that
they then fired 7 or 8 shots at once and when none of them hit, I felt perfectly calm
and said to my son:  “Stick to the wagon; the Lord is not going to let us be killed.” 
They followed us on by here till all had untied their guns at us, the last two shot at
my son and he felt the bullet graze his hair, but was not hurt.  When we reached the
hay meadows, we found that many teams from Spring City, Mount Pleasant and
Moroni had stopped as the men had heard the firing and then began investigating if
any one was hurt, and it was found out that one bullet had broken the butt end of my
gun, another bullet had settled in my binding ladder, one bullet had cut my horse
lines, which I held in my hands right under my hair, and one bullet had penetrated
my vest, close to my left vest pocket;  all the shots were fired from the right side of
the wagon, and the shots were fired from so close range that where they struck the
powder marks in black were visible in every case”

     
A STORY TOLD BY JOHN CHRISTIAN LARSEN

At the age of seven I first saw Brigham Young.  He was at my uncle's house (Bishop
Larsen of Spring City, Utah), being shaved.  I saw him through an open door and if I had
seen an angel I couldn't have been more awed and thrilled.  When Brigham Young talked
and I've seen it many times, he seemed to have the power to draw people to him.  In fact
they would actually lean forward during the course of his sermon.  He was the most
magnetic speaker I have ever heard.  Whenever he came to Logan, everybody knew about
it and one time he had come to Logan to rest at his daughter's home, Sister Thatcher ---
George and Guy Thatcher's mother On Sunday, she wanted him to attend Sunday service
at a bowery on Logan Tabernacle Square.  He was tired. but his daughter told him how
the people here loved to hear him speak.  When he got up to speak he said, "If people like
to hear me talk so well, why don't they do as Brigham does ?  On the same occasion he
said he had paid more tithing than any other man in all Israel.  And the only reason he
hadn't paid more was because the men working for him hadn't paid it in as he directed
That same day he asked me if I had a drink of ice water I could give him, I said, "No, I
haven't any ice water.  " That was the only time he ever spoke to me, personally, I was a
deacon about 12 or over.  Brigham Young was determined on promptness.  He was never
late.  In May, 1877 on the day appointed for the dedication of the ground where the
Logan Temple now stands, there was a terrible snowstorm.  I might say a blizzard, Orson
Pratt was to offer the dedication prayer.  He was one minute late by Brigham Young's
watch.  When Brother Pratt came, he took out his watch and Brother Young said, "You're
late.  In one more minute you would have been denied this privilege.  " Brother Pratt took
out his watch and said, "I'm exactly on time by my watch.  " Brigham Young said, "Well,
your watch is one minute slow then.  "
On the same day I heard him speak in the tabernacle, he said, "There is no finer
place for a temple in all the world and it will stand forever unless some unseen power
disturbs it, " He said there will be mines discovered close in the vicinity which would
bring in every kind of element.  At Brigham City, two weeks before his death I heard
him, "If I were to ask this congregation how many wanted to be saved in the Celestial
Kingdom, all hands would go up, We have come here to organize Box Elder Stake.  We
selected as President, Oliver Snow, Elisha Bo.... and Isaac Smith.  We told Brother Snow
to get advice from his father.  Some may question the wisdom of selecting so young as
Isaac Smith and why we didn't choose someone older with more experience and
judgment.  I'd feel sorry for Isaac Smith if he didn't have more judgment than you older
men.  " I was thrilled and impressed and I couldn't doubt the sincerely of the truthfulness
of every word he uttered, That was the sermon he preached....
For one night I was body guard of President Young at the home of Mrs. Thatcher.  I
felt it a great honor to be entrusted to such a duty for so great a man.

TESTIMONY OF JOHN C. LARSEN

I have had my prayers answered as quick and sure as lightning flashes.  I know
Mormonism is true or I wouldn't be working in this church, I have seen the deaf made to
hear, the blind made to see, people near death live through the priesthood..... On Sept. 2,
1892 I was unloading a load of peas and your grandmother was helping mind Hazen and
Hazel who were playing on some sacks of wheat.  A sack of wheat fell on Hazen's chest
and I went and moved the sack.  He was as black as the stove and had stopped breathing. 
I picked him up and was carrying him to the house and your grandmother said, "bring
him back".  I did and administered to him.  Your grandmother breathed in his mouth
several times, and he began to twitch and twist and he lived to be baptized.  He died
when be was nine years old.  He was three when the accident happened.  I have had the
endowments done for him,


POEMS WRITTEN BY LOUIS WILLIAM LARSEN (son)

THE PIONEER

By Louis W. Larsen of Salt Lake City
(Written in honor of his father, Bishop John G. Larsen, Sr., a
few years before Bishop Larsen's death.)

There he sits in the cool shade of the spreading tree.
Dreaming, dreaming of the distant past.
His hoary head is propped against his knee,
His withered hand is gripping fast the cane that's come
to be his final prop.
There's silence all around this solitary man
Save for the' sighing bird high in the top
Of that friendly tree.   Imagine, if you can,
What the dreams are that run through his head.
He planted that large spreading tree, you know,
At a time when everyone had glumly said
That here, on the hill, no crop or tree would ever grow.
But he had hope and youth and strength in that day
And the vision of the teeming life you see here now.
He sent the water running its channeled way
And bade his horses lean against the rustic plow.
And, lo, he made of the hill, through years of toil,
This paradise for others to enjoy and hold.
His endless wielding of the hoe, and water on the soil
Were all he had at his command.  And I am told
That through his pioneering strength and faith of yield
A score of others found the will to go along,
To push the boundaries outward, field on field,
To fashion them a commonwealth, now great and strong.

GOLDEN WEDDING

John C. Larsen - Susannah T. Larsen
February 7, 1877 - February 7, 1927

It all comes back
     To you today--
The gold you've strewn
     Along the way :

The gold of hope,
The gold of prayer,
The gold of trial,
The faith to bear.

The gold of age
The gold of youth,
Purged in the fires
Of the truth.

The gold of laughter
And of song,
The gold of waiting,
Long and long.

The gold of love,
Thr gold of tears--
Heaped high to bless
Your wedding years.

It all comes back
     To you today--
The gold you've strewn
     Along the way.

          Affectionately,
           John, Ida, Lou, Rube, Hazel

(written by Louis W. Larsen to honor the
Golden Wedding Anniversary of his parents.)

Census Place: Logan, Cache, Utah
Family History Library Film: 1255335
NA Film Numbr: T9-1335
Page Number: 122B

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