Sanford porter done 15 When fourteen years of age, Sanford Porter was crossing a pasture wherein a young mare was feeding; in a playful mood the animal ran past him, at the same time kicking up her heals, stricing him in the forehead with her hoof, crushing the skull, and leaving the brains exposed. His father, witnessing the acident, ran to him, put the skull back in place, carried the boy to the house, and sewed up the wound with a needle and thread. He says the spirit left the body and as he stood looking at this earthly tabernacle, a person or guide spoke to him saying, "Come". As he turned to go he discovered they were in darkness. They had not gone far when a light began to appear; it kept growing lighter and lighter until the brightness, thereof, was beyond human or mortal understanding. He said he beheld one of the most beautiful cities that eye ever beheld. They stopped before a beautiful building; the guide, who was still with him said, "this is yours", pointing at the same. "This will be your future home." Then turning around says we must go back. Notwithstanding all the pleadings he could make to stay where he was at that time, the personage with him said, "Not now, your work is Not done." On their return they travelled the same road back into that same darkness from which they had come; he again stood looking at the body. The next he remembers, he opened his eyes and saw his father and mother standing by him and asked what was the matter. To his mother he said, "Why are you crying, mother?" He says they had his body washed and laid out ready for burial on his return to consciousness. In March, 1846, he enlisted as a soldier in the United States Army. He, with others after bidding family and friends farewell, took up the long march across dreary, trackless waste. After passing through Texas, into to what is now known as Arizona, they had before them a dry and burning desert; for miles and miles there was neither wood nor water with which to cook their food or quench their thirst; about the only vegetation was the evergreen shrub, known as the chapperell. It was during this march that their provisions run out and their rations were cut to less than half. One can only imagine their feelings when they took up their nap-sacks and went trudging on, chewing on a half cooked piece of rawhide. At one time with feet bleading and faint with hunger and fatigue, he stuck the bayonet of his gun in the ground and hung his nap-sack on the top thinking perhaps some one might find his remains; he then placed himself in the hands of his God in fervent prayer. He bid adieu to this world and fell asleep. He did not know how long he slept but when he awoke he found himself sound and well. He shouldered his nap-sack and gun and went into camp where he joined his companions, gave his rations to a sick comrade and stood double guard that night. From that day on to the end of their march, which ended in California, where he got his reliease, he never suffered any pain or hunger. He lived to be over ninety years old and died at Logan, Utah. by W. Ira Porter