My father, Thomas Colborn, a member of Zion’s Camp, and well acquainted with the Prophet Joseph, moved from the state of New York to Nauvoo with his family in the spring of 1843. I was then in my ninth year. Upon arriving there, we camped down by the river in a little log cabin, near the Hilbert stone house. The day after our arrival, I was out in the yard, when a gentleman rode up and inquired for Thomas Colborn. Of course I did not know who it was, but there was something so noble and dignified in his appearance that it struck me forcibly. My father soon came out and shook him cordially by the hand, and called him Brother Joseph. I knew then it was the Prophet.
Father invited him in and he alighted and followed him into the house. He soon told his errand. It was quite an exciting time just then. The Prophet had been falsely accused of an attempt to murder Governor Boggs of Missouri. The mobbers had tried every means to take him, and had made their boast that if they got him, he never should return alive. Porter Rockwell, a firm friend of Joseph’s, had been kidnapped and taken to Missouri as an accomplice, and was about to have his trial, but money was scarce wherewith to pay the lawyers’ fees. Joseph requested my father to lend him $100.00 to pay the lawyer who defended Porter Rockwell. He explained the situation, and father freely counted out the money. “This shall be returned within three days, if I am alive,” said the Prophet, and departed.
My aunt, father’s sister, who was camped with us, was quite wrathy, and called my father very foolish and unwise. “Don’t you know, Thomas,” said she, “you will never see a cent of that money again. Here are your family without a home, and you throw your money away.”
“Don’t worry, Katie,” father replied, “if he cannot pay it, he is welcome to it.” This conversation was held before us children, and I thought seriously about it. Would he pay it, or would he not? But I had strong faith that he would.
The day came when it was to be paid. A cold, wet, rainy day. The day passed. Night came; 9 o’clock, 10 o’clock, and we all retired for the night. Shortly after there was a knock at the door. Father arose and went to it, and there in the driving rain stood the Prophet Joseph. “Here, Brother Thomas, is the money.” A light was struck, and seated at the table, he counted out the $100.00 in gold. He said, “Brother Thomas, I have been trying all day to raise this sum, for my honor was at stake. God bless you.”
My aunt had nothing to say. She afterwards left the Church. My testimony is that Joseph Smith was truly a Prophet of God. This incident I have related strengthened my testimony.
Sarah M. Pomeroy, “Joseph Smith, the Prophet,” Young Woman’s Journal 17, no. 12 (December 1906): 539; Mark L. McConkie, Remembering Joseph, 66-67.