AFFAIRS AT HOME—START FOR FORT SUPPLY—ILLNESS OF MYSELF AND FAMILY—GIFT OF HEALING—TROUBLE WITH INDIANS AT FORT SUPPLY—TURBULENT RED MEN—I HELP ONE OFF MY BED—THEY PERSIST IN TAKING OR DESTROYING OUR PROPERTY—WE STOP THEM—ONE ATTEMPTS TO KILL ME—INDIANS RETIRE FROM THE FORT—ALMOST A CONFLICT—I CHECK THE WHITE MEN FROM SHOOTING—INDIANS WITHDRAW—WE SEND TO GOVERNOR YOUNG FOR ASSISTANCE—OUR STOCK AND GUARDS DRIVEN IN—INDIAN AGENT APPEARS WITH ANNUITIES—THE SAVAGES SUBMIT—WE GUARD DAY AND NIGHT—INDIANS MORE PEACEFUL—REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE FROM THE GOVERNOR—MATTERS QUIET DOWN.
AUGUST 14, 1855, I went to Salt Lake City, and on September 3rd returned home. On the 5th my family were taken sick with cholera morbus.
Notwithstanding this sickness, I started on my return to Fort Supply, for it was the faith of myself and family that if I went to my mission they would be healed. Just as I mounted my horse to start out, my uncle, Captain James Brown, came along and said, "Jimmie, are you going off and leaving your family sick?"
I told him, "Yes, sir."
Said he, "You are cold-hearted, and I would not do it."
When I told him that they with me believed that if I would go to my missionary labors they would be healed sooner than if I should neglect my duties in that line, he, with uplifted hands, said, "Jim, you're right. Go ahead, and God bless you. Your family shall be healed, and not suffer. I will go in and pray for them." He did so, and I afterwards learned that they were healed the same hour that I proceeded on my journey. I did not see them again till December 20th, when they told me that they had not been sick one day after I left.
Although when I started out I was very ill myself with the same trouble, and had to call at a friend's and get a dose of painkiller, and take a rest for an hour or two before I could proceed on my way to Salt Lake City, yet on the 13th I started for Fort Supply, and overtook the two wagons which had preceded me the day before. I travelled with them until the 17th, then left them and went on horseback forty-five miles to the fort. I was very sick for five days, so that I had to keep my bed part of the time. I found all well and the wheat harvest ready for the laborers, a heavy frost having injured the crops considerably. On Friday, September 28th, I sent four men to invite Washakie to the fort, and on the 29th we learned that Chief Tibunduets (white man's child) had just returned with his band from Salt Lake City. October 1st I sent Isaac Bullock and Amenzo Baker to visit him. They found him and all of his band feeling very bad and revengeful.
October 10th Tibunduets and his band threw down our fencing and came charging up through our field, riding over wheat shocks, and singing war songs. At the same time the warriors from a camp above came into the fort with their weapons in their hands. Our men tried to be friendly and talked peace to them, but it was not what they wanted. They said they were "heap mad," for when they were in Salt Lake City the big Mormon captain had written with blood on their children, and a number of these had died while they were among the Mormons. These Indians refused the seats offered them, but jumped on the beds and behaved very saucily, saying they wanted pay for the death of their children who had died on the Mormon lands. Of course, we could not afford to give presents of that kind, and their demands were rejected.
Three of the hostile Indians went to my room, and one engaging me in conversation, the other two jumped on my bed and stretched themselves full length on it. My cousin James M. Brown called my attention to their rude actions, and I turned around and told them to get off my bed, but they answered with a contemptuous laugh. I told them a second time, and they sneered again. I stepped to the side of the bed and told them the third time, and as they refused, I jerked one of them off the bed so quickly that it surprised him, and the other one thought he preferred to get off without that kind of help, and did so quickly.
Tibunduets made heavy demands on us, which we could not comply with. We told him that we were not prepared to do his bidding, and he replied, "You're a wolf and a liar, and you will steal." Then the Indians turned their horses into our fields among our shocks of wheat and oats, while their women went to digging and sacking our potatoes, the Indians throwing down our fences in many places and ordering our men out of the fields. They told us to leave their lands, and continued their insults until I sent some men out to order their women out of the potato patch. The squaws only laughed at our men, who returned and reported the results. Then I went out myself, and as I passed a brush fence, I caught up a piece of brush and started towards the potato diggers, who screamed and ran away before I got near enough to use the stick.
I returned to the house and soon was followed by two young braves, who rode up in front of the door and called for the captain. I answered in person, when the braves said, "You heap fight squaw, you no fight Injun." They continued their insulting words and threats of violence, until at last I ordered them out of the fort, upon which one of them drew his bow and pointed his arrow at me, within three feet of my breast. At that one of my men pushed the horse's head between me and the arrow. At the same time Amenzo Baker handed me a Colt's revolver, and another man covered the Indian with a revolver.
At that movement the Indians started for the big gate, and as there was quite a number of warriors inside the fort I called my men out with their guns, for the Indians seemed determined on bloodshed. They rushed outside, and the white men followed them to where a young chief sat on his horse, just outside of the gate. There must have been a signal given to the camp above, for the warriors came running with their rifles in hand, until seventy-five to one hundred warriors were on the ground, while there were only about forty white men. Everybody wanted to say something, and in the confusion that followed some ten or twelve men leveled their guns to shoot, being in such close quarters that they struck each other as they brought their weapons into position.
At that moment I sprang under the guns and held some of them up, and forbade the men to shoot. This act seemed to please the young chief, and he commanded his men to desist. I ordered my men back and into their bastions, and to bar the gate. This done, I took a position in the watchtower, where I talked with their chief through a porthole, and told him that we were in a position to do them harm, but did not wish to do so, yet they must withdraw in peace and not molest our property, for we should defend it and ourselves to the best of our ability. I said that if they would withdraw peacefully we would not interfere with them, but to that they would not agree. After considerable parleying, however, they did withdraw to their camp among the cottonwood timber and willows on the creek, and built large fires, around which they danced and sang war songs the greater part of the night, while we made every possible preparation for defense.
As captain of the fort, I wrote a despatch to the governor and superintendent of Indian affairs, stating the facts. Then we covered with blankets a slab bridge that had to be crossed near the gates, to deaden the sound of the horse's feet as he went out, and a clever young man by the name of Benjamin Roberts speeded away with the note to Salt Lake City.
On the 11th all was quiet. A few Indian lodges remained near our fort, and the women and children were around them as usual, so Isaac Bullock and I went down to learn what the situation was. We found some of them friendly, while others were very sulky. The main part of the Indian camp had gone down the creek, and we thought it safe to turn our stock out under a mounted guard, with one man in the watchtower to keep a lookout. About 2 p.m. the man at the watchtower sounded an alarm, saying he saw a great dust in the north; and a few minutes later he shouted that a large body of horsemen was in sight, coming rapidly from the north, while our horse guards were coming with our band of horses, hastening with all speed to the fort. Immediately every man was called to take a position for prompt action. I occupied a commanding place, giving instructions to the men not to shoot without my order, and then not unless they felt sure of making every shot tell. They were told to see that every tube was filled with powder, "for here they come," said I; "keep cool boys, for it is a close race with our men and horses."
It was a question of which would reach the fort first, they or the Indians. The race was so close that the guards with our band just succeeded in getting in with the animals in time to close the gates against the Indian ponies, whose riders called out, "Open the gates!" They were answered with a positive "No! not until you give up your arms." They had three mountain men in their party of over one hundred warriors, who shouted that they would be responsible if we would let them in, for the Indian agent, George Armstrong, was a short distance in the rear, with two wagons loaded with goods for the Indians.
As I had not been advised of the agent's approach from any other source, I still refused them admittance. Soon the agent's wagons were in sight, and some of his party came up and told the Indians they would have to give up their arms before they could enter the fort, for the captain was determined not to allow them in with their arms. At last they submitted, and the gate was opened just wide enough for one man to pass through. I stepped outside, the Indians handed their arms to me, I passed them to the other men, and they placed them on a part of a wagon sheet. Then the weapons were bound up strongly and taken away and put in my room, and a guard placed over them. The Indians were then told that they could enter the fort and pass directly into the blockhouse, but would not be permitted to wander around in the fort.
About this time the agent's wagons rolled up and were hastily unloaded. Then a friendly smoke took place, and a short council, in which the Indians agreed that they would withdraw in peace and go to their hunting grounds, and would not molest us any more. They said we might remain on their lands let our stock eat grass and drink water in peace; that we might cultivate the lands and use what timber we wanted, and that they would be our friends, and we their friends. The goods the agent had for the Indians were then turned over to them.
On the 13th the red men brought in a report that the Sioux Indians had killed one of Jack Robinson's beeves. This they did to screen themselves, for it was they and not the Sioux who had killed the animal. The agent gave them a beef ox, and they moved down the creek. On the 14th the agent and party returned home, and we kept up a guard day and night to prevent being surprised by the renegades of the Indian camps; for we had evidence of their treachery. We had given them back their arms, and when they obtained all we had for them they said the white man was "heap good, Shoshone no kay nabatint Mormon." (Shoshones do not want to fight Mormons.) They packed and left, feeling quite pleased.
General R. T. Burton with a party of twenty-five men were met at Fort Bridger on the 16th, by myself and a small party. On the 17th I went with them to Fort Supply, while they concluded to send out a scout to ascertain whether the Indians really had crossed the Green River or not, thinking that if they did we could be satisfied that all was right. When our scouts returned and reported that all had crossed the river and gone farther on, General Burton and command returned home, while myself and men did up our fall work at Fort Supply.
START HOME FROM FORT SUPPLY—CAMP ALONE AT NEEDLE ROCK—AWAKENED BY MY HORSE—SURROUNDED BY WOLVES—FLASH POWDER ALL NIGHT TO KEEP OFF THE WILD BEASTS—REACH HOME—SUPPLIES SHORT—HARDSHIPS OF A GRASSHOPPER YEAR—GETTING MY CATTLE OUT OF A CANYON—PERILS OF BEING CAUGHT IN THE SNOW—GREAT SUFFERING—BREAKING A SNOW ROAD—BUSINESS AFFAIRS.
THE writer left Fort Supply December 14, 1855, and started for his home in Ogden City on horseback and alone, having placed Isaac Bullock in charge of affairs at the fort. The first night out I camped at a place called Needle Rock, just east of Yellow Creek. There I selected a spot where the feed was good, picketed out my horse, set my saddle over the picket pin, and spread my blankets so as to lay my head on the saddle, lest the coyotes should cut my riata and turn loose the horse.
As I was alone and yet in an Indian country, I did not make a fire, but ate a cold lunch, rolled up in my blankets, and soon dropped to sleep, to be awakened by my horse snorting and kicking. The animal brushed his nose on my head before I was sufficiently awake to understand what he meant by his actions; but no sooner was I aroused than I found that he was surrounded by a pack of large, grey wolves which were growling and snapping at his heels and at each other. The night was so dark that I could plainly see the fierce eyes of my ravenous enemies shining in the darkness all around me.
I had a good Colt's revolver, but having heard that if wolves smelled blood when they were gathered in such a pack they would attack man or beast, I reserved my fire. I remembered having heard that these wild beasts were afraid of the flash and smell of burning powder, so I spread some gunpowder on the leathers of my saddle, and with flint and steel struck fire, and in that way flashed powder by intervals all night. The wolves would run off, but return in a short time, as if determined to have flesh. My horse was too weak to attempt to flee, and as for myself I had become so chilled and benumbed that it was with some difficulty that I could keep up the flashes till daylight, at which time the pack of wolves went away, leaving horse and rider to resume their sufficiently hazardous journey without such unwelcome company.
I crossed over to the head of Echo Canyon, where I found a yoke of oxen that some emigrants had left to die. As the animals had got rested up, I thought I could drive them in and save their lives, but had to abandon them in Round Valley, Weber Canyon. Then, on a poor, jaded horse, I pursued my way, arriving at home about 9 p.m. on December 20th.
SURROUNDED BY A PACK OF HUNGRY WOLVES
SURROUNDED BY A PACK OF HUNGRY WOLVES
I found all well, but winter supplies of food so short that I sold the only respectable suit of clothes I had for breadstuff. I had about worn out all the rest of my clothing when I was in the Indian country, so that I had but one old flannel shirt left, and that I had made out of two old ones. I had one pair of buckskin pants, a rough beaver cap and a pair of moccasins.
It will be remembered by the early residents of Utah that the year 1855 was a grasshopper year, as well as a season of great drought, and therefore one of the hardest years that many of the people had ever experienced, both for man and beast. Hundreds of horses and cattle starved to death, and many of the people barely escaped the same sad fate. I could do no better than to let my horses go out on the range to die of starvation and cold, and turn my hand to anything I could get to do to earn an honest dollar.
Soon after arriving home I was called to devote a portion of my time in traveling from settlement to settlement, and preaching to the people; also in visiting the Indian camps along the Weber River and preaching and talking to them, for it was a terrible winter for the Indians. Before entering upon these duties, however, I returned to where I had left my cattle to rest for a few days, and where the feed was tolerably good. When I started out it commenced to storm and by the time I reached the cattle the snow was eighteen inches deep.
Before I could get out of the canyon with the animals the snow was two and a half feet deep. My horse gave out, and I had to travel on foot, breaking the trail and leading the horse a few rods, then going back and driving up the cattle. I continued these efforts until myself and stock were exhausted. When I tried to start a fire, my matches were all wet. I had left my rifle and shotpouch at home, and in the pouch were my faithful flint and steel, which had never failed me. But for the snow, the night was total darkness. At last I reached a clump of cottonwood trees, and for a time I thought I would die of exhaustion and thirst. I knew that if I ceased to exert myself I would chill to death. Finally it occurred to my mind to tear off a piece of my shirt, roll it up, hold it in one hand, and with my revolver shoot through it and start a fire. I found a large sagebrush, and from it gathered the dry bark. This I wrapped around the roll of shirt, then fired a shot through it, and in that way succeeded in starting a flame. As there was plenty of wood handy, I built and kept up a large fire during the night. The river banks were so steep that it was impossible in the darkness to get water to drink. I was driven almost frantic by thirst, but finally thought to take off my heavy leggings, place them in a position so that they would form a kind of basin, and cover them with snow, so the fire would melt it to water in the leather bowl. In that way I obtained water and quenched my terrible thirst. My blankets and everything I had on had been soaked thoroughly with the melting snow, but I succeeded in drying all during the night.
The dawn of day was welcome indeed, but my troubles were not yet over, for I found my animals standing in snow to their necks, and they would not move out of their tracks only as I broke an opening around and urged them on. The snow was so wet and heavy that it was an awful task to break a road and get those animals through for the first five miles. After that the snow was not so deep, and with a very great effort and hazard of life I succeeded in reaching Ogden, as thankful as I ever was in my life to get home—to "home, sweet home."
Being once more with my family and friends, I got up my winter wood and visited the people as a teacher. In the spring I finished a two-roomed house that I had under way on Main Street. I then moved into it, preparatory to going to Fort Supply again, but was honorably released by President Young from further missionary labors in that part. I rented land, put in corn and potatoes, and spent the fore part of the summer at farm labor. Having acquired a fourth interest in three ferries on Green River, I arranged with my three partners, Isaac Bullock, Louis Robinson and W. Hickman, so that I did not have to go there, as my health was not very good; hence I remained at Ogden.
CALLED ON A MISSION TO DEEP CREEK INDIANS—SHORT TIME FOR THE JOURNEY—PREPARE FOR THE TRIP—JOURNEY IN THE DESERT—HORSES STOLEN—TRAVEL ON FOOT—SAVED FROM PERISHING WITH THIRST—MEET THE INDIANS—COULD UNDERSTAND AND SPEAK TO THEM—INDIAN AGENT'S OFFER—I ACT AS INTERPRETER—PREACH TO THE INDIANS—ON THE RETURN TRIP—VISIT GOVERNOR YOUNG WITH A DELEGATION OF BANNOCK INDIANS.
ON August 22, 1856, I received a letter from President Young, calling me to take a mission of thirty days, west across the desert, to Deep Creek, to the Indians in that region. As I did not understand fully the object of the mission, I thought there was some mistake in the letter, since the distance that had to be traveled out and back would be about five hundred miles and I was to preach to a tribe of Indians I had never seen, much less being able to speak their dialect, and do it all with only thirty days' rations. To me it was, to say the least, a singular call; so I went to Salt Lake City August 23rd, to find out that the letter meant just what it said, no less; only that Geo. W. Armstrong, an Indian agent from Provo, was going out to distribute some goods among the Indians, and it would be a good time to send a few missionaries to preach to the red men.
From Salt Lake City I returned to Ogden and purchased a splendid mare of widow Ruth Stuart, on credit, promising to pay when I could. On the 27th I joined Mr. Armstrong and twenty-five other men in Salt Lake City, fitting up for the journey, some as guards to the agent and some as missionaries. Among those I remember were Seth M. Blair, Oliver Huntington, Ormus Bates, John Whitney, J. Cooley, Harrison Sagers, Harrison Sevier, and Peter Conover; there were others whose names I do not now recall.
The company left the city on August 29th, and traveled through Tooele, Rush Valley, and over Johnson's Pass into Skull Valley. With five others of the party, however, I went around by what is now called Dugway, and met the rest of the company at the springs in Skull Valley.
On September 2nd, we reached Granite Rock, sometimes called Granite Mountain, as it stands out in the midst of the desert. There the company camped at some alkali springs, where, with cup and bucket, it took all night to dip water for the stock. Next morning we found that the Indians had stolen all the team horses, eight head, so the agent called on the men to volunteer their saddle horses to take his wagons across the desert. Among the rest, I let my horse go, and eight of us set out on foot to cross the desert, while some went after the stolen stock. Other horsemen pushed across to water, and the teams brought up the rear.
The route was brushy and rocky, in some places there was heavy sand, in other parts stiff alkali mud, and much of the time without a sign of a road. The writer was taken very sick with a severe bowel complaint and was compelled to turn to one side, so I fell behind my fellow footmen. The teams lagged in the sand and mud till long after dark. I became so weak and faint that I could not travel any longer, and I laid down on the damp ground, so tired and thirsty that it seemed impossible for me to live until morning without relief. When I had laid down for some time, I heard my bunkmate, Doc. Woodward, shout that he had found water and filled his canteen, and was coming back hunting the missed and needy one. When he got near enough for me to answer him, I did so, and with a drink I was somewhat revived. I was helped on my friend's horse, and we proceeded on for about five miles to camp and water. One of the party gave me a brandy toddy, spread my blankets, and I turned in, a very grateful sufferer. I was given a cup of coffee, after which I felt very much relieved, and by morning was ready to resume the journey, the wagons having come up about 11 p.m. Next morning, September 4th, we moved up five or six miles, to what was called Fish Springs. There we found a number of Indians, and the party pitched camp for a few days.
When the animals had been cared for and fires built, the Indians gathered around in considerable numbers. As they were talking among themselves, the writer understood and commenced to speak with them in their own dialect, at which they were surprised and said one to another, "Who is this man, that talks our talk? He has never been in our country before." I was no less astonished myself; and I call the reader's attention now to the peculiar feature of a man being called to fit himself out with provisions to last him thirty days, travel out in the desert two hundred and fifty or three hundred miles, and preach to a tribe of Indians in whose country he had never been and whom he had never seen before. Yet when the agent's interpreters failed to get the Indians to understand, the agent asked if I could talk with them. I told him I had never seen these Indians before that hour, "but," said I, "I understand them, and you see they understand me." "Yes," said the agent, but I do not see how it is that you can talk with them. I have two men employed as interpreters, but they cannot make the Indians understand. Now if you can make them comprehend what I wish to tell them, I will pay you three dollars per day from the time that you left home until you return there."
I do not know whether I can do your talking or not, was my response to this proposition. "I came here to preach to this people, and I have power given me to do it in their own tongue. But I do not know whether I will be permitted to speak for you or not; if I am, I will talk for you." "All right," said Mr. Armstrong, "have them form a circle in front of my wagons, and tell them who I am, and what the great father at Washington has sent me here for; that I have brought them clothing and blankets as a present from the great father at Washington, and that he expects them to be good people and live in peace with each other, and also with other people, and if they will do so the great father will send good men to bring more goods to them."
When I told them what the agent wanted, they at once formed a circle as desired, to the satisfaction of all present. Then the agent distributed the goods, to the great pleasure of the Indians. He talked very kindly to them and gave them much good advice. I interpreted what he said, and then continued to preach to them, telling them about the Book of Mormon and their forefathers, and many other things of interest to them. I seemed to have perfect liberty of speech as I desired it, in their dialect, and they listened attentively to all I had to say.
The next day Seth M. Blair, Peter Conover, Ormus Bates and myself and four or five other men that belonged to the missionary part of the camp, employed an Indian guide to travel south around the head of Deep Creek, to see what natural advantages there were for settlements, but we failed to find anything inviting until we came to Deep Creek, where the country seemed quite suitable for stock raising. About the 11th of September the party returned to the agent's camp, where we again met with many of the Indians, who wished us to stop and live with them as their friends, adding, "If you will not stop with us, then tell the big Mormon captain to send some good Mormon men that will tell the truth and show us how to make clothes like the white man."
It was the next day, I think, that the party started back to Salt Lake City, the agent having secured his team horses. We traveled north of Granite Rock, and around the point of the mountain to the lake, thence along the shore to Grantsville. We tarried one day with Mr. Cooley, and partook of the hospitality of himself and family.
After our visit to the Deep Creek Indians, some of them claimed to have received dreams and visions, in which heavenly messengers appeared and told them to go into Tooele and call on the Bishops, who would tell them what to do, and for them to obey the Bishops. Accordingly, scores of them went to Grantsville and related their story, when they were told to believe in Christ and repent and be baptized. Many of them obeyed this advice, and then a missionary was sent out and located among them.
With our one day's rest at Grantsville, the party continued on to Salt Lake City, where Mr. Armstrong paid me ninety dollars in cash for my services as interpreter. I returned home and paid the ninety dollars on the mare I had purchased on credit for the mission. My labors as a missionary, however, were still called for, and I visited all the settlements in Weber County, also the Indian camps, and acted as a presiding teacher in Ogden City, often being called to arbitrate differences between the white people and Indians. About that time Snag, the Bannock Indian chief, and twelve of his prominent men called on me to accompany them to Salt Lake City to see President Brigham Young on some business. They said they wished a friendly talk, and to tell some of their grievances and ask some favors of him. The latter constituted the greater part of their business. I accompanied them to President Young's residence, where he received them kindly, furnishing them with necessary supplies of food and fuel. Next day, after they had had a very friendly talk with the President, he gave orders to the Bishops in the northern settlements to supply the Indians' wants as far as practicable, as it was cheaper to feed than to fight them. Then after all the complaints of the Bannocks had been satisfactorily adjusted, we left, they for their homes in the north near Fort Hall, the writer for Ogden, where I continued my labors.
UTAH MILITIA ORGANIZED—ELECTED CAPTAIN OF A COMPANY—HEAR OF JOHNSTON'S ARMY—SCOUTING PARTY SENT OUT—I AM CHOSEN AS GUIDE—TRAVEL TO THE BEAR LAKE COUNTRY—COLD NIGHTS AND LITTLE FOOD—COMPLAINT IN THE PARTY—PROVE THAT I AM RIGHT—REACH LOST CREEK—SOME OF THE MEN OBJECT TO DOUBLE GUARD—A DISCOVERY THAT REMOVES ALL OBJECTIONS—STRIKE THE TRAIL OF HORSEMEN—PREPARE FOR ACTION—TAKE A CAMP BY SURPRISE—THE MEN ARE FRIENDS—ARRIVE AT OGDEN—CALLED TO GO ON AN IMPORTANT ERRAND—TUSSLE WITH AN INDIAN—FAIL IN GETTING DESIRED INFORMATION, AND RETURN TO OGDEN.
IN the spring of 1857 I rented some land and put in a crop. Soon after this an order came from Governor Young to the Weber County officials to organize the militia of the county, which was done. I was elected captain of the first company of infantry in the Weber militia district. The company consisted of captain, commissioned and non-commissioned officers, and one hundred men of the rank and file. Chauncey W. West, then the Bishop of Weber County, was commissioned general of the district. He appointed days for drill, and four companies came together in Ogden City for that service.
At that time we had not learned of threatened danger from any source except occasional Indian raids; but no sooner had we got properly organized and ready for self-defense than news came from the east to Governor Young that an invading army was coming, with hostile threats against the citizens of Utah.
As the governor had not been officially notified of the approach of United States troops, his official oath bound him to repel any invading forces. He accordingly sent out scouts to ascertain the movements of the troops referred to, and soon learned that there was a well equipped army of nearly ten thousand men on their way west, with the avowed purpose, it was said, of destroying the Mormon Church and people.
Some time in August General West called out twelve or fifteen men as a scouting party, to go over in the Bear Lake country, along the emigrant road, and from there to the head of Lost Creek and down the Weber River. He had heard of a party going up Lost Creek, and over to the Bear Lake country. General West appointed Major Monroe to take charge of the party, of which the writer was called to be one, as I had been acquainted with mountain travel and understood the Indian language. General West told the major to make no move of importance without consulting me as to the journey.
The party proceeded to the divide between North Ogden and Ogden Valley, where we halted and the major privately told me that he was not accustomed to journeys of that kind, and wished me to lead the party through, for I had more experience than he had. I declined the responsibility, but the major said: "I will be responsible if you will lead." so I headed out to Blacksmith Fork and thence to Bear Lake, and around the east side thereof to the river. We crossed to the California road near the present site of Montpelier, thence back east to the road where Cokeville settlement is now located. As we failed to learn anything of importance, we returned back over the river and struck out for the head of Lost Creek, where it was supposed that we would fall in with the scouts from the approaching army.
The nights began to be cold, and the food supply was getting low. The horses were somewhat jaded, the route very rough, and the most of the party were young and inexperienced. They began to complain and said that nobody had ever traveled in so rough a country as that, and it was all foolishness to be wearing ourselves out in that way. They said the writer did not know himself where he was going, and I had no business to be on the lead, as that was Major Monroe's place. The major, however, promptly told the party that I was in the proper place. Finally I called a halt and told the party that I knew that we were going just right and had been on a trail all day, but they did not know it. They asked, "Where is your trail?" and I again told them that we were on it. They laughed at me when I said, "I can prove it to you, and even tell you the color of the horses that have passed this way." But they thought me a fool to talk thus, so I told one of the young men to jump down and remove the leaves from a root of a tree that stood near by a steep bank, as it was plain to the practiced eye that an old trail passed there, and when the leaves were removed he would find that the bark had been bruised at the roots of the tree by the hoofs of passing horses. He found the trail and the bark off the tree roots, as I had said. I told the men to look on the tree about the height of a pony's side, and they would find hair that would tell them the color of the ponies that had passed there. They found bay and white horses' hair. Next I said to them, "Look on the point of that snag which projects over the trail." They did so, and found a duplicate of the hair they had found on the tree. Then they said that I could prove anything I pleased, and they would not dispute with me any more.
The party passed on down Lost Creek, to a point where the country was more open. When camping time came we turned into a little creek bottom and put out the stock. I remarked to the major that I felt as though we should put on a double guard that night. This was more than some of the boys thought they could stand. Several said that I would run the party to death, but that they would not submit to any extra guard. Others said there was no use for any guard, for nobody but Brown would ever lead a party there; but just then some one hallooed, and we found, on looking, that no one was missing from camp. One said it was a coyote, another that it was an owl. Again the cry was heard distinctly, and no doubt remained of its being a human voice. Then the order was given to get up the stock, ready for whatever might come. The horses were soon picketed near camp, and every man thought it was proper to put on a double guard that night, some of the boys remarking that Brown was not such a fool as they had thought.
Things settled down for the night, and next morning the party started out. We had gone less than a mile when we saw fresh horse tracks made by shod horses, and the droppings looked so new that I directed a young man to ascertain if they were warm. The novel way in which the young man performed that task created some merriment for the moment. Then the party continued on a short distance, when we saw a smoke just over the creek bank ahead. Every man was ready to obey orders, and all dismounted at command and tightened up their saddle girths. Then came the order to see that every tube was filled with dry powder, and each man was assigned his position for action.
The party was instructed not to halt without orders, and not to let a horse put his head down to drink. If perchance we saw a blanket, a handkerchief, or any camp equipage, we were to pass it unnoticed; if brush or any obstructions were observed, we might be certain that all such signs meant ambuscade. We then advanced cautiously and found evidence of a party about our own number, lying encamped at the fire. We pressed forward on the trail, and found several bushes lapped across it, so that we felt certain we would soon fall in with those ahead, whom we felt sure could be none other than a scouting party from Johnston's army. We prepared for the worst, and as we were moving on double-quick time we saw a man running towards a grove of cottonwood trees, from a point of the mountain. Next we saw the horses of a party of scouts, the top of whose tent was soon discovered.
Quickly capturing the horses, we charged on the tent and surrounded it. taking the men by surprise. As they began to file out of their tent, our party leveled their rifles and called on them to surrender. Just at that moment one of the surprised party recognized one of our men, so that we only required them to acknowledge that they were "dropped on," a phrase used in those times to express the condition. We were not long in ascertaining that the party was a scout from Davis County, in pursuit of the same reported detachment we had been sent to intercept. But neither of us had seen or heard anything of the party that was supposed to be in the region of country we had been over. Without much delay, our party hastened home to Ogden City, and joined our regiment, finding much excitement and hearing many rumors.
It seemed that there was no rest for me, for in a day or two General West called on me to visit the camp of James and Ben Simons, who lived about twenty miles up the Weber River. The men named were Cherokee Indians who, it was said, were in possession of some important information which the general wanted to get. He told me to learn what I could from the Simonses, as they were friendly.
When I got to the mouth of the canyon I chanced to meet Ben Simons coming from Salt Lake City. It was evident the Indian had been drinking, and as soon as I met him he drew his Colt's revolver and said, "Hold on there!" threatening to kill me if I was Uncle Sam's man. I succeeded in riding close alongside of him, grabbed his pistol and held the muzzle away from me. I tried to persuade him not to shoot, for we must be good friends. He yelled again that if I were a Mormon I must fight his old uncle or he would kill me. He was a powerful man, and I had all that I could do to keep the pistol turned from me.
For ten miles I had to tussle with that Indian, and at times thought I would have to shoot him in self-defense; but after the most disagreeable and hazardous ten miles' ride of my whole life, we came to Gordon Beckstead's ranch. Simons regarded Beckstead as his friend. The latter persuaded the warrior to dismount and have a drink of whisky with him, and let me go my way, for I was a good friend to both of them.
I went to James Simons' camp but failed to get the information desired. Simons was very friendly, and said that if he heard anything of interest he would be pleased to let us know it at once. I then returned to my regiment, which was ordered into camp the next day. We bivouacked on the east bench in Ogden City.
OFF ON ANOTHER SCOUT—AGAIN ON BEAR RIVER—DREAM OF SEEING TROOPS—DREAM FULFILLED—SEND WORD BACK OF DISCOVERY—FIVE HUNDRED CAVALRYMEN—HEAVY STORM—MY ONLY REMAINING COMPANION TAKEN ILL—HE IS HEALED AND I AM STRICKEN DOWN—CAMP IN THE SNOW—MY COMPANION, EXPECTING ME TO DIE, PREPARES TO TAKE MY BODY HOME—HE RETURNS, PRAYS FOR ME, AND I AM HEALED—STRICKEN DOWN AGAIN—I DIRECT HIM TO LEAVE ME AND RETURN HOME—HE OBEYS RELUCTANTLY—I EXPECT TO DIE—PECULIAR EXPERIENCES—FOUR YOUNG MEN, SENT BY MY COMRADE, COME TO MY RELIEF—JOURNEY ON—LIGHTING FIRE IN A STORM—THE YOUNG MEN PRAY FOR ME, AND I AM RELIEVED—TRAVELING HOMEWARD—KIND TREATMENT—REACH OGDEN—ACT AS SEXTON—GUARD OVER SPIES—UTAH MILITIA RECALLED—MISSIONARY LABORS IN WEBER COUNTY.
THE first night in camp at Ogden, General West and his adjutant, D. Gamble, called at my tent, and told me I was wanted to take charge of a scouting party to go over in the Bear Lake country, and start by sunrise next morning. They directed me to choose the men I would like to have accompany me, and they should be released to go home and prepare. I made a list of five young, active men, who met me next morning at sunrise, having received their orders. We proceeded to the emigrant road across the Bear River, about fifteen miles above the lake. There we met with some emigrants, but could not learn anything from them, so we crossed back to the foot hills, and there camped in a secluded place, where we could overlook the emigrant road. Next morning at 4 o'clock I awoke from a dream, in which I had seen two hundred and fifty cavalrymen come and pitch camp just across the river from where we were; then I saw two hundred and fifty more come and reinforce the first detachment; I also saw their baggage and artillery wagons. I was impressed so forcibly with the dream that I called my comrades and told them to prepare for a move, while I went up one of the high points and watched developments. At daybreak I saw the camp of the first two hundred and fifty men, saw them form in line for roll call, and a mounted guard drive their horses across the river towards our camp.
The main object of our scout was to learn if the army or any portion of it was coming down Bear River and into Salt Lake Valley from the north, and if we saw any troops on that route to communicate the information to headquarters at the earliest moment possible, so that our forces could meet them at the best places on the route, and repulse them. That that end might be served I sent two of my men with a dispatch to General West, and as soon as the messengers had gone out of call I again went on the hill. Everything was ready to move as developments might indicate, and just as the first party was saddling its horses I saw the second two hundred and fifty come up and join the first party. Then the five hundred cavalrymen proceeded down the river, just as I had seen them in my dream. This necessitated a second dispatch and two more of my men, leaving me only one, with whom I followed up the troops till they camped. It rained and snowed alternately all that day and night. My comrade, James Davis, and I went after dark within the lines of the troops, but did not learn of their intentions. Davis was taken with something like a congestive chill, and we were forced to retreat into the hills, where we camped for the night. Davis was so bad that I worked in the storm all night with him and prayed for him; at last he was healed and we set out on our way home at daylight.
About 8 a.m. the writer came down sick, just the same as my friend had been, only I also suffered with pleurisy in the right side. I could ride no further, so we camped in the snow, where it was about eight inches deep. Snow was still falling as it can only in the mountain country. Our clothes were wet as could be, and our blankets were in the same condition. The only food we had was the crumbs and dust from some crackers.
Davis succeeded in making a fire, but by that time I had cramped so that I could not speak. Davis, supposing I was dying, started out to a quakingasp grove to get some poles to make an Indian litter or drag, on which he thought to take my body home. As he went he felt he ought to have faith and pray for his comrade, as he had been prayed for the night before; so he fell on his knees and prayed, as he afterwards said, as he never had done before. Then something said to him, "Go back and put your hands on him and pray again, and he will be healed;" and it was even so.
We then traveled some fifteen miles, when the sun shone. We partly dried our blankets by a fire and the sun, and continued our journey for some ten miles, when I had a second attack of illness, which was so severe that I thought I had better die alone in the mountains than to allow the enemy to gain the advantage in the country. Consequently, I told Davis to make my horse fast by the trail and spread my blankets, that I might lie down. This done, I directed him not to spare horseflesh, but take the news to our friends as soon as it was possible. Davis did not want to leave me in that plight, but was urged to go. He started reluctantly, and in tears.
For a time it seemed that I had rendered my last services to family and friends, as I lay down by an Indian trail, sixty miles from any white man's habitation. While I was pondering the situation, a magpie came flying down over me, and said "quack," then alighted on a willow near by, in plain sight. Next came a raven, which gave its "croak," as it settled down near me, and it seemed as though it had found prey. Being aware of the habits of these carrion birds, I wrapped my head in blankets, to prevent the birds from picking out my eyes, if the worst came to me; yet I knew that my body could not be protected from the wild beasts that roamed in the mountains, such as the bear, wolf, wolverine, panther or mountain lion, wild cat and lynx, some of which, if not all these various kinds, would be tugging at my carcass inside of twenty-four hours.
Then the birds circled over me, as if to say, "We want an eye," or some fragment of my body, I felt that my time was nigh, and unless the providence of God interposed, I would go the way of all the earth before the rising of the sun. I was chilled to the very bone, and cramped so that it was impossible for me to build a fire. It did not seem possible for me to survive until my companion could ride sixty miles and send relief.
While I pondered the situation, four young men who had been sent with fresh horses and food supplies came up, they having met Davis, who sent them on with all speed. I think the eldest of them was not over seventeen years old. They soon built a fire and prepared much needed refreshments, and I was greatly benefited by that special providence of God, as it certainly seemed to me to be. While I partook of the food, the young men saddled my horse, rolled up my blankets, and we rode eight or ten miles that night, and camped while the rain came down in torrents. The boys soon provided me with shelter by sticking willows in the ground and winding the tops together and spreading blankets over, so that it afforded a little protection for me, and I was soon wrapped in wet blankets.
The next thing was to start a fire. Every match had got wet, and the boys thought it impossible to make a fire, so they asked me what they should do. I told them to get some cotton out of a quilt if they could find a dry spot in it, then put a small priming of powder in a rifle and ram down the cotton on the powder; in the next place, go to the heaviest topped sagebrush they could find, and carefully reach under and strip the dry bark off the main stalk of sagebrush, and in that way get a tinder, then come to my shelter and hold the bark loosely over the muzzle of the gun and fire it off. They got a light, but they had too much powder and it blew the fire out. They tried repeatedly without satisfactory results, and the case was becoming desperate, as darkness was coming on. Two of them got under cover with me, and I finally succeeded in measuring the powder to them. Then they started a flame, and as wood was plenty they made a rousing fire.
In the meantime I took to cramping and suffered so severely that one of the boys remarked. "Brother Brown will die. O what shall we do?" Another said, "Let us pray." Then one led in prayer, and he prayed mightily. As soon as he was through, one said, "Let us go in and lay hands on him," and in a moment they all gathered around me, placed their hands on my head, and prayed from their hearts. The cramping ceased and never returned as severe as it was before; yet I suffered greatly from the pain in my side. The writer regrets very much that he cannot recall the names of those young lads. I believe they were all sent from Willard City, Box Elder County. God bless them, whoever they are. Their action showed them to be young heroes, with great faith in God; and but for them I would have died that fearful night.
Next morning, the party was up, and off we went down Blacksmith's Fork Canyon and across to Wellsville, where I was taken in by Bishop Peter Maughan and his good wife, who did all they could to relieve my sufferings. The Bishop also saw that the boys were well taken care of.
The following morning Samuel Obray drove up with a light, covered wagon, and a good team, and I was helped into the wagon. Sister Maughan had provided a large canteen full of composition tea. She came to the wagon, and without thinking of anything else, she placed it partly under the side where I had the pleurisy pain. Then the team started for Brigham City, and before we had gone five miles the pain had disappeared from my side, thanks to the Bishop and Sister Maughan for their special kindness, and S. Obray. The latter delivered me into the hands of Colonel Smith in Brigham City, where I was cared for until next day, and then the colonel forwarded me to my home in Ogden City, where I recovered after suffering from a severe cold and cough for a few days.
During my absence the regiment had gone to Echo Canyon, and there was scarcely an able-bodied man to be found in the city. The women and children were cutting and hauling wood, and doing all the outdoor work as best they could. A great deal of sickness was brought on by exposure and hardships. At a Sabbath meeting a general vote of thanks was given the writer for his efforts for the general good of the people and his self-sacrifice.
About this time there was a very worthy young man named Yough, who died, and I was called on to take the part of sexton and bury the deceased, as well as some small children that had died. Meanwhile, there were four prisoners brought in from the north; they were supposed to be spies. I was called on to be one of the guards to take them to Salt Lake City, where they were turned over to the military authorities. Then I returned home, to learn that the troops my scouts and I had seen on Bear River were General R. T. Burton's battalion of Utah cavalry, which had been sent out to intercept a detachment of Johnston's army which had been discovered in that direction, but had returned to the main body, which went into winter quarters at Fort Bridger. Then the Utah militia was withdrawn from Echo Canyon.
I was next called to take up my missionary labors in Weber County. From 1856 to 1859 I baptized and rebaptized four hundred persons, and visited with the catechism from house to house. In that work I spent the winter of 1857-8.
MORMONS ABANDON THEIR HOMES AND MOVE SOUTH—PREPARE FOR THE WORST—GO TO PAYSON—AFFAIRS BEING SETTLED, RETURN TO OGDEN—CALLED TO GO EAST AS A MISSIONARY—JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLAINS—MEET MY PARENTS IN IOWA—PREACHING AND TRAVELING—MY FATHER'S TESTIMONY—MISSIONARY LABORS—CALLED TO MISSOURI—SENT TO BRING A HERD OF CATTLE—RETURN TO MY PARENTS' HOME—BID FAREWELL TO THEM—PURCHASING CATTLE.
SOME time in May, 1858, as I remember, an order came from President Brigham Young for everybody living north of Utah County to move south and leave their homes prepared for burning; for it had been decided that if Johnston's army came in, as it had threatened to do, with hostile intentions, the people would lay waste the country and fight to the bitter end. I do not remember that there was a dissenting voice from this determination.
Everybody moved out to the south, myself and family going to Payson, one hundred miles from Ogden. There we made a camp, and I cut wild hay and hauled it for a livelihood, that being the only employment I could find.
In the latter part of July, when peace had been re-established, I returned home and made hasty preparations for my family for the winter, as I had been called by President Brigham Young to accompany General Horace S. Eldredge to Florence, Nebraska, with a company consisting of twenty men who were going on business and partly as missionaries. I belonged to the latter class. I went into the western part of Iowa, being assigned to that field of labor, while the others went to their several destinations.
The company was to have moved out on the 1st of September, so I. A. Canfield and I, fitted with a four-mule team and light wagon, were in Salt Lake City ready to start at the appointed time; but the rest of the party would not or could not be ready for ten or twelve days, so we returned home and stayed until the 11th. We then went to Salt Lake City and waited until the 14th, and, as the party was still tardy, we moved out to the top of the Little Mountain, and there camped. From that place we proceeded to the Weber River, where we were overtaken by John Neff and Dusten Arna, who were to join the party when it came up. As their teams were not in the best of plight for the journey, we traveled together to Ham's Fork, where we stopped on the 19th, and waited for those yet in the rear to come up. About 8 o'clock that evening H. S. Eldredge, Jos. W. Young and Horton Haight reached our camp.
On the 20th, the company having got together, proceeded on the way to the Sweetwater. On the 26th we reached the Platte River, where I was taken very sick with hemorrhoids of the bowels. With that exception, all moved smoothly. On the 28th we passed Fort Laramie, and my health began to improve, though I had been brought almost to death's door, and the company was detained one afternoon in consequence. After that I improved, and the company made rapid headway. October 3rd two deserters from Fort Laramie passed the party. They had stolen two horses and a mule from the government, and, as I remember it, made good their escape.
Nothing happened out of the ordinary until October 19th, when the party arrived at Florence, Nebraska, on the Missouri River. From that point each went to his field of labor or to his business, as planned beforehand. Canfield and I crossed the river to L. O. Littlefield's, in Crescent City, and stayed over night with him and his family, and on the 20th proceeded on our way to Calhoun, Harrison County, Iowa, where my father lived with his family. We were soon overtaken by Clayton Webb and B. H. Dennis, my brothers-in-law. I accepted a seat in their buggy and they took me to my father's home.
I had not seen father for eleven years. I was an entire stranger to every one of the family, who kept a hotel. I went in and ate with strangers, and did not make myself known until after all the evening work was done. Then after I was satisfied that they had not the remotest idea of my identity, I told them who I was. It was some time before they could realize that what I said was true. To them it seemed that the dead had come to life, and the long lost had been found, for they had all given up hope of ever seeing me again. It was not difficult for me to recognize my father and mother, but my elder brother and sister were dead, and the younger ones had all grown out of memory.
When I had visited with them a few days, I preached several times in the public schoolhouse, and then traveled and preached. On one occasion I had a walk and talk with my father alone. We talked of my absence, and he said, "James, I had given up all hopes of ever seeing your face again, but thanks be to God I have that privilege. You always have stood up for the faith and have been a man through thick and thin for your religion." Then he said, "Oh that I had the faith that I once had, and felt as I have felt! I would be a happy man if I had the spirit that you have, and that I once had." He burst into a flood of tears, and exclaimed, "Oh, my God, I am in the dark and I do not know that I shall ever feel as I once felt. Then I could divide the last loaf, yes, the last morsel of food that I had with a Mormon. Talk about heaven! The true spirit of Mormonism is heaven. I thank God that you have kept the faith, though you have had a hard time of it." Then he added, "James, stick to it and never give it up; for if there is any salvation for me or any of my family it will be through you, for you are the Joseph of my family, and I have known it since before you were born." He then seemed as humble as a little child, and continued: "James, be faithful in the work, but as for me or any of my family going to Utah, I don't think we will ever go."
I told him he could do no better than to go with his entire family and renew their covenants, for the good Spirit was for all who would seek it in the proper way. At last father said that he did not know what they should do yet, the weather being wet and cold.
We returned into the house and I stayed with the family the first month, preaching in the public schoolhouse every Sabbath. Then my brother Willis and I traveled around from place to place, and preached everywhere we found an opportunity, first to Raglan Township, and then to the northeast, forty miles into Shelby County. We preached several times in Garden Grove schoolhouse, and went from there to a small town called Monteno, thence to Pottawatomie County. We preached to a full hall in Council Bluffs City, then went out on Mosquito Creek, in what was called the Garner settlement. Thus we continued to travel and preach from place to place and bear our testimonies, as health and opportunity permitted.
In January, 1859, preached my cousin Ira Johnson's funeral sermon; he had been accidentally shot and killed while out with a surveying party in that region of country. The same day I baptized six persons and confirmed them; this was at my father's house, and from that time my father seemed quite changed in his feelings. He said it was all that he could do to keep out of the water, and stated that he had never felt better in his life than he did on that occasion. Said he, "James, I want you to preach all the time."
On April 7th I received a letter from General Horace S. Eldredge, asking me to come down to Platte County, Missouri, and receive one hundred and seventy-seven head of work oxen that he had contracted for with Mr. Lampton and Mr. Thompson, cattle merchants. Having also received the written contract for the cattle, I started on the 8th, and on the 9th I took passage on the steamboat Satan, which lay at the Council Bluffs landing. I paid ten dollars for passage to Parkville, Platte County, Missouri. The boat called at all important towns and landings. Nothing out of the ordinary happened except that we were driven under a high sandbank in a short bend of the river, by a powerful wind storm, and in trying to extricate the boat, the side-wheel next the shore threw the water with such force against the bank as to cause it to cave in onto the boat, so that the guards and wheelhouse were carried away.
I landed at Parkville on April 13th, stopped overnight, and on the 14th proceeded eight miles to Mr. Thompson's. On the 15th I went with him to his partner in the contract, Mr. Lampton. The men General Eldredge promised in his letter on the 15th to send to help drive and care for the cattle, did not arrive until the 27th, when Eldredge came with five men. He furnished money to pay the expenses, and gave instructions, then returned to St. Louis. On the 28th, 29th and 30th, myself and party received and branded one hundred and seventy-seven head of work oxen and two valuable mules.
We started for the north on May 1st, traveling through Rochester, Marysvale, Lindon and Sydney, keeping from the river and on the high, rolling prairies, through what was called the Platte purchase in Missouri. We arrived in Council Bluffs on May 15th, and went from there to Florence, Nebraska, where I delivered up the drove of cattle and span of mules, on the 16th, to Bishop Frederick Kesler, who was General Eldredge's agent. We lost but one head from among the cattle, although we had an exceedingly stormy and muddy time of it most of the way, having to swim several streams that had been swollen by the heavy rains, so that the journey was taken with great hardships, and danger as well.
I went to my father's home on the 17th, in Calhoun County, Iowa, settled with my father, who was very kind to me and my brother Willis, helping us to two yoke of oxen to cross the plains with. We bade farewell to the parental home and to the family on the 27th. Father accompanied us to Council Bluffs and paid our expenses until the 30th, when we parted with him. We crossed the river at Omaha, and moved up to Florence, where we went into a camp or rendezvous and waited for others to come to make a company strong enough to cross the plains.
The company had its camp some three miles northwest of Florence, where General Eldredge, the Church agent, and Elder George Q. Cannon, agent for the European emigration, both called on me to go out into Nebraska and also to cross into Iowa and purchase work cattle for them. Each furnished me with five hundred dollars in gold then, and as it was the time that hundreds of gold hunters were returning from Pike's Peak, I had great success in my purchases, spending a thousand dollars some days in the purchase of cattle, buying whole teams as they stood on the road, sometimes wagons, equipage and provisions. I would hire a trusty man to drive them up to Florence, and then I would replenish my pockets and go on again. For ten days I traveled early and late, and did thousands of dollars' worth of business for the Church and emigration.
GIVEN CHARGE OF A COMPANY TO CROSS THE PLAINS TO UTAH—COMPOSITION OF THE CAMP—START WEST—PERFORM BAPTISMS—MEET A WAR PARTY OF SIOUX INDIANS—PLACE WHERE A. W. BABBITT WAS KILLED—MEET MORE INDIANS—HOW TROUBLE WAS AVOIDED—CAMP LIFE AND DUTIES—ENTER SALT LAKE VALLEY—COMPANY GREETED BY THE CHURCH AUTHORITIES—REPORT TO PRESIDENT YOUNG AND AM RELEASED—TRADE AT CAMP FLOYD—EXPERIENCE WITH A THIEF—GO TO WORK ON THE OGDEN CANYON ROAD—HARDSHIPS ENDURED.
ON Sunday, June 12th, Elders Eldredge and Cannon visited the camp and held meeting, then organized the company, naming James S. Brown for president and captain, the selection being unanimously sustained. George L. Farrell was made sergeant of the guard, William Wright chaplain, and John Gordon secretary. A captain was appointed over each ten wagons, namely: first, Wm. Steel; second, W. Williams; third, Christopher Funk; fourth, Newbury; fifth, Kent; sixth, Giddens. These names were suggested by Messrs. Eldredge and Cannon, and were unanimously sustained by the company of three hundred and fifty-three souls. The outfit consisted of fifty-nine wagons and one hundred and four yoke of oxen, eleven horses, thirty-five cows, and forty-one head of young cattle that were driven loose. We had provisions for seventy-five days.
On June 13th, 1859, the company set out for Salt Lake City, Utah. There were nine different nationalities of people represented, namely; English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Danish, Swedish, Norwegians and Icelanders; we also had some Americans from the Eastern, Middle and Southern States, all mixed together. Many of them had never driven an ox one mile in their lives, and the result was almost like herding a train on the plains. If it had not been for G. L. Farrell, James Hickson, Samuel Garnet and Willis Brown, all excellent ox teamsters, besides some five or six others that were quite handy, we would doubtless have had most destructive stampedes. As it was, the company did not have any serious mishaps. In a few days the train became regulated and we had more system and order in travel. For the first five or six days of the journey the stock seemed in danger of being destroyed by flies and mosquitoes, and the people suffered much from the same cause. On the 18th we passed Captain Rowley with the handcart company.
On June 19th the camp stopped on the Loup Fork, a tributary of the Platte River. There was a small town there called Columbus. On the 20th the company moved up the river and camped on a small stream, Looking Glass Creek. That afternoon I baptized and rebaptized eighty souls, and other Elders confirmed them, while some men of the company bridged the stream. On the 21st we proceeded to Genoa Ferry, where we were joined by Captain Walding's company of thirty-seven souls and ten more wagons, thus increasing my company to three hundred and ninety persons and sixty-nine wagons, with cattle and other property in proportion. At that place we chartered the ferry boat from J. Johnston and did the work ourselves. We paid seventy-five cents a wagon, and it took fifteen hours' hard labor to cross. The stock all swam safely over, and the company camped on the west bank. The handcart company came up that night about 10 o'clock. On the 23rd our company proceeded up the river.
We met with a company of Sioux Indians on the 24th. These formed a line of battle across the road ahead of the company, and sent two men to meet us. I was traveling in advance of the company, and although I had never been among the Sioux Indians in my life for an hour, nor had I ever been where I had an opportunity to study their language, I had not the slightest difficulty in talking to them, or they to me. Consequently I learned at once that these Indians were on the war path, and were hunting the Omahas and Poncas. They were hungry and said they must have food from the company; so they were told to form a line parallel with the road, and to keep one-fourth of a mile back, so as not to stampede the train or frighten the women and children. They were allowed to send two men on foot to spread blankets where the company could put such food as we had to share.
Meanwhile I gave orders to the sergeant of the guard, G. L. Farrell, and the several captains to draw up in close order, have every teamster in his place, and all the women and children in the wagons, and for each man to have his gun where he could lay his hand on it without a moment's delay. Each family was to place some food on the blankets by the roadside. Not one team was to stop without orders. The wagons were to be corralled as quickly as possible, if they must be, at the first signal from the captain to do so; for the Indians appeared very warlike in their paint and feathers.
When the red men learned that it was a company of Mormons they had met, they readily complied with the captain's terms, and a number rode up and shook hands with him. As the company passed their lines of not more than one hundred and fifty warriors, there came fourteen buffalo in sight, quite close, and attention was turned to them so much that the Indians took what the company had placed on their blankets and we passed on without further interruption.
It was about this date that the teamsters had become acquainted with their teams and the latter acquainted with their drivers, so that things began to work more orderly than before. The camp was called together every evening for prayers, and for instructions for the next day.
About the 26th the company started across from the Loup Fork to Wood River. That night the stock took fright and gave some trouble before they were recovered; but the next morning the company resumed its journey, leaving Wood Birdno to pursue two valuable young fillies, one his own and the other belonging to Captain Brown. Mr. Birdno did not overtake the company till the fifth day.
One evening the company camped on a tributary of the Platte River, where Almon W. Babbitt was killed by the Sioux Indians some eighteen months or two years before. The company crossed the stream and camped just opposite where that terrible tragedy occurred, and just as the cattle were being unyoked the Sioux Indians flocked into camp, all well-armed warriors. I saw that it was quite possible that they meant mischief, as there were no Indian families in sight; so I called to the company to continue their camp duties as if nothing unusual had happened, but for every man to see to his firearms quietly and be ready to use them if an emergency should arise. Then I turned to the chief, and it being again given to me to talk and understand the Indians, I asked what their visit meant, if it was peace that they go with me to the middle of the corral of wagons and smoke the pipe of peace and have a friendly talk, as myself and people were Mormons and friends to the Indians, and that I wished them to be good friends to me and my people.
The chief readily responded, and called his peace council of smokers to the center of the corral, where they seated themselves in a circle. I took a seat to the right hand of the chief and then the smoking and talking commenced. The chief assured me that their visit was a friendly one, and to trade with the emigrants. I inquired of him why, if their visit meant peace, they all came so well armed. He answered that his people had just pitched camp a short distance back in the hills, and not knowing who we were had come down before laying down their arms.
By this time it seemed that there were about three Indians to one white person in the camp. I told the chief that it was getting too late to trade, my people were all busy in camp duties, and I was going to send our stock to where there was good feed for them. It was my custom, I said, to send armed men to watch over them, and the guards always had orders to shoot any wild beast that might disturb them, and if anybody were to come among the stock in the night, we thought them to be thieves and our enemies. If they attempted to drive off our stock, the guards had orders to shoot, and our camp guards also were ordered to shoot any thief that might come prowling around camp at night. I said that, as we did not desire to do the Indians any harm, we wished the chief and his men to go to their camp, as it was now too late to trade. But in the morning, when the sun shone on our wagon covers, not when it shone on the mountain tops in the west, but when it shone on our tents and wagon covers, they could leave their arms behind and come down with their robes, pelts and furs, and we would trade with them as friends; but he was not to allow any of his men to visit our camp or stock at night.
The chief said that was heap good talk, and ordered his people to return to their own camp. They promptly obeyed, to the great relief of the company, which had been very nervous, as scarcely one of them except myself had ever witnessed such a sight before.
Next morning, between daylight and sunrise, the Indians appeared on the brow of the hill northeast of camp. There seemed to be hundreds of them formed in a long line and making a very formidable array. Just as the sunlight shone on the tents and wagon covers they made a descent on us that sent a thrill through every heart in camp, until it was seen that they had left their weapons of war behind, and had brought only articles of trade. They came into the center of the corral, the people gathered with what they had to trade, and for a while a great bargaining was carried on. For once I had more than I could do in assisting them to understand each other, and see that there was no disturbance or wrong done in the great zeal of both parties.
The trading was over without any trouble, there was a hearty shaking of hands, and the company resumed its journey up the river, passing and being repassed by numerous companies moving west to Pike's Peak and to Utah, California, or Oregon. There were gold seekers, freighters, and a host of families of emigrants; and as the company advanced to the west we met many people going to the east. They were traveling all ways, with ox, horse and mule teams, as well as by pack trains of horses and mules; while some were floating down the Platte River in small row boats.
I have omitted many dates, but feel that I must say that some time in July we came up with Captain Horton Haight, who started two weeks ahead of us, with a Church train of seventy-five wagons of freight. Both trains passed Fort Laramie that same day. Mine camped seven miles above the fort on the river, where we laid over the next day, and had our wagons unloaded and thoroughly cleaned from the dust and dirt; then they were reloaded so as to balance their loading anew. All sick cattle were doctored, while the female portion of camp washed and did considerable baking. The next day we proceeded on to the Black Hills, in good spirits, the people generally well and encouraged. The road then began to be rough and gravelly, so that the cattle began to get sore-footed, and that changed the tone of feelings of some of the people.
We went on in peace over hills and dales to the Sweetwater, thence up that stream to what was called the last crossing, where we stopped one day, and again overhauled our load, doctored sick cattle, baked, etc. From there we crossed the summit of the great Rocky Mountains to Pacific Springs, so called because their waters flow down the Pacific slope. From that point we traveled over very sandy plains and saleratus deserts, to the Little Sandy, then to what was called the Big Sandy, and thence to Green River, the last hundred miles being the most soul-trying of the whole journey, owing to being sandy and poisonous to the stock. We traveled day and night, all that the cattle could endure, and in fact more than many of the people did endure without much complaint and fault-finding.
After a day's rest on the Green River, however, and being told that there was no more such country to cross, the train entered on the last one hundred and fifty miles of the journey, crossing over to Ham's Fork, then to Fort Bridger on Black's Fork, and on to the two Muddys and to Quaking Asp Ridge, the highest point crossed by the emigrant road. From there we went down into Echo Canyon, then to Weber River, crossed it and over the foothills to East Canyon Creek and to the foot of the Big Mountain, where we met Apostles John Taylor and F. D. Richards. A halt was called to listen to the hearty welcome and words of cheer from the Apostles. Then the company passed over the Big Mountain to the foot of the Little Mountain, where we camped. Many of the people were sick from eating chokecherries and wild berries found along the roadside.
Next day we proceeded to the top of Little Mountain. When I saw the last wagon on the summit, I left the sergeant, G. L. Farrell, in charge, and went ahead to report the approach of my company and their condition, as there were one hundred or more without food for their supper. I called first on General H. S. Eldredge, and took dinner with him. He received me very kindly, and accompanied me to President Brigham Young's office. The President welcomed us as cordially as a father could. After he had inquired and was told the condition of the company, he sent word to Bishop Edward Hunter to have the tithing yard cleared for the cattle, to have cooked food for all who needed it, and to have the company camp in union Square.
When steps had been taken to carry out these orders, I called at my father-in-law's in the Fourteenth Ward, where I learned that my family were well. Then I went back, met the company on the bench east of the city, and conducted it down to the square, where we found Bishop Hunter and a number of other Bishops and people of the several wards, with an abundance of cooked food for supper and breakfast for the whole company. Several of the Twelve Apostles were on the ground to bid the company a hearty welcome, and delivered short addresses of good cheer. This was August 29, 1859.
Next morning, the 30th, Orson Hyde, Orson Pratt, Wilford Woodruff, Ezra T. Benson, Charles C. Rich and Erastus Snow of the Twelve Apostles, Bishop Hunter and other prominent officers of the Church, came to the camp, called the people together, and again bade the Saints welcome to our mountain home. They advised the people where to go, and what to do to support themselves for the winter.
It was while yet on the union Square that Apostle Charles C. Rich told me that he and others had been called to take a mission to England, leaving home in the spring, and that they would like me to go with them; he thought I had better shape my affairs so that I would be ready for the call.
During the day the people found shelter and friends, and I reported to the Deseret News office and to President Young, who told me I was honorably released from any further responsibility for the company.
On our journey across the plains we had two deaths in the company, and five births, and had lost twenty-five head of cattle—a very small percentage compared with losses in general.
After the interview with President Young, I followed up my brother Willis, who had gone ahead with our team. We stopped that night at Charles C. Rich's, twelve miles north of Salt Lake City, and on September 1st reached my home in Ogden City, where we found all well and pleased to meet us again.
At Ogden many friends and relatives called to see us. In a day or two after our arrival, we went to cutting bulrushes along the slough on the bottom lands, with a scythe, that being the only chance for us to winter our stock. In a short time we purchased a wagon load of butter and eggs, and took it to Camp Floyd, forty miles southwest of Salt Lake City. We made a good profit on that load, then made a second trip and had stolen from us one of our mules worth one hundred and fifty dollars.
As we could not get a trace of the mule, Willis returned to the city to get another animal, so we could move our wagon. About 12 o'clock one night, while he was gone and I was sleeping alone in the wagon, the moon shining bright and clear, a thief cut the hind end of the wagon cover open, and drew out one of the quilts. As he was taking the second I awoke and caught him in the act. I asked what he was doing there, and was told it was none of my business, but to get out of his wagon, or he would send an officer after me. At the same time he put his hand on an old fashioned United States holster pistol that he had in his belt, then staggered off, feigning drunkenness. I saw that he went into a corner where he could not pass out, so I hastened and called the landlord, Mr. Kinney, a man about sixty years old, and told him what had happened. Said he, "If he went in there he cannot get through that way." He peeped into a dark corner, where the buildings were so close that a man could not squeeze through. "Here he is; come out, you thief," said he, and the midnight marauder made a break to pass. The old gentleman struck at him as he went by, and the next instant I had him by the throat. By that time the thief had got his pistol disengaged from his belt, but before he could turn it towards me I caught it from his grasp, threw him heavily on the ground, and held him there till Mr. Kinney brought an officer.
Meanwhile we were surrounded by half a dozen gamblers, one of whom said to the thief, "What are you doing down there, Rainbow?" A second ordered him to get up. They all seemed to know him, but all were strangers to me. I had passed the pistol to the old landlady, who brought it out, offered it to the officers, and told them she saw the thief try to shoot me when I snatched it and passed it to her. At that the thief swore the weapon was not his, but mine, and that I had drawn it to shoot him. Then the officers told me to keep the pistol, and they let the thief go to a saloon in a gambling house, where he treated the crowd, and told them that he had an engagement for a woman to meet him there that night, but he found a man instead, and that was all there was of it. At that the officers liberated him, and I concluded that I had got into a den of thieves, so disposed of my load and left for home as soon as I could. All the profit that we had made in the first trip was lost in the second, for we never recovered the mule.
The weather being cold, we threw up that business and took a contract amounting to two hundred and fifty dollars on the Ogden Canyon road, and in the bitter cold weather of winter worked till the job was completed. That work finished, we took another contract to get out timber for the first county jail in Weber County, and continued to work in the canyon until April 1st. The winter had been so long and severe that we sold part of our wearing apparel and bed clothes for hay to keep life in our animals.
CALLED ON A MISSION TO GREAT BRITAIN—PREPARE TO DEPART—START WITHOUT PURSE OR SCRIP—JOURNEY TO SALT LAKE CITY—SET APART FOR THE MISSION—BEGIN THE JOURNEY EASTWARD—ORGANIZATION OF THE COMPANY—MY POST AS CHAPLAIN—OVERTAKEN BY APOSTLES A. M. LYMAN AND C. C. RICH—TRAVELING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS—SNOWSTORMS AND WIND—FORAGE IS SCARCE—MEETINGS WITH THE INDIANS—CAPTAIN REYNOLDS' EXPLORING PARTY—ARMY DESERTERS IN OUR CAMP—MAIL FROM HOME—EMIGRANTS WESTWARD BOUND—DISSATISFACTION IN CAMP—FEELING ABOUT APOSTLES LYMAN AND RICH—I RESIGN AS CAPTAIN, BUT AM ELECTED AGAIN, AND FINALLY RESUME COMMAND—MAIL ROBBERY—MORE DISAGREEABLE STORMS—MEET A HANDCART COMPANY, AND APOSTLE GEORGE Q. CANNON—REACH THE MISSOURI RIVER—VISIT MY FATHER AND HIS FAMILY—GO TO ST. JOSEPH, MISSOURI—MY FIRST VIEW OF A RAILWAY TRAIN—AT MY OLD HOME IN BROWN COUNTY, ILLINOIS—JOURNEY EASTWARD BY RAIL—ARRIVE IN NEW YORK FOR THE FIRST TIME—FIND FRIENDS.
SOME time in February of this year (1860), I received a letter from President Brigham Young, informing me that I had been selected to accompany Apostles Amasa M. Lyman and Charles C. Rich on a mission to Great Britain, starting in April. The letter authorized me to call on Bishop Chauncey W. West, to have my city and five-acre lots fenced and cultivated by labor tithing, for the benefit of my family; also for the Bishop to furnish my family, from time to time, with such necessary articles as they needed and could not otherwise obtain. I called on the Bishop as authorized, and showed him the letter, but the work he was called on for never was done, and my family suffered in consequence.
I settled my business and prepared for the mission, and in April attended conference in Salt Lake City, where my name was presented and sustained with those of many others called to perform missions. On the 19th of April, I blessed my family and bade farewell to them till I should be released from the duty which now rested upon me of preaching the Gospel among the inhabitants of the British Isles. I had a ham and a few articles of food, a light change of clothing, and my rifle. These I put in the wagon of H. Hanson, who was starting to Salt Lake City, on his way to fill a mission in Denmark. Then, with my shot-pouch and a new pair of boots across my shoulder, I began my journey from Ogden, intending to hunt up a yoke of cattle I had on the range, and drive them to Salt Lake City. Not a dollar of money did I have—I was entirely without purse or scrip. I found my cattle, drove them to Salt Lake City, turned them over to my father-in-law, Nathan Tanner, to pay a debt I was owing and to obtain some flour for food on my journey, and I was ready on April 20th, the date appointed, to leave on my mission. But some of the others were not ready, and the departure was postponed to April 25th.
On the last named date, we gathered at the Church historian's office in Salt Lake City, to be set apart and receive instructions for our missions. President Brigham Young there gave us counsel never to be forgotten, and our hearts rejoiced therein. Each of us received a certificate of our missionary appointment, signed by the First Presidency, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, and Daniel H. Wells. We were then instructed to meet next day, the 26th, at the mouth of Parley's Canyon, and to proceed therefrom under command of Joseph W. Young, our baggage being hauled by teams owned by the Church that were going to Florence, Nebraska.
President Young had designated me to take charge of one of the teams, with permission to leave it when Apostles Lyman and Rich overtook us, which they expected to do in three or four days. Thus I had in my care four yoke of oxen and a large government wagon; and, in company with several others, went to President Young's mill south of the city. We took on from a thousand to twelve hundred pounds of flour to each wagon, and proceeded to the place of rendezvous, where there were gathered thirty wagons, with about forty missionaries and the Beebe and Buzzard families, who were going back to their farms in Iowa.
On April 17th, Presidents Young and Wells came out and organized the company, appointing Joseph W. Young as captain, and John Woolley as sergeant of the guard. Myself and two others were selected as chaplains. The company was instructed as to necessary duties in crossing the plains, and we started. Our route was up Parley's Canyon, then down Silver Creek to the Weber River, thence up to the mouth of Chalk Creek. At the Spriggs coal pit a number of us visited the mine, the tunnels of which went straight into the mountain side. Then we proceeded across to Bear River, and followed along the Big Muddy. The Beebe and Buzzard families and E. D. Woolley and company continued on by way of Fort Bridger, while the rest of us made a road across the bend of the Muddy.
Apostles A. M. Lyman and C. C. Rich overtook us on May 4th, and we all camped together that night. Walter M. Gibson and I were transferred to Samuel White's wagon, and on the 5th we bade farewell to Joseph W. Young's company, taking an early leave of them, and proceeded to Ham's Fork, on which we camped for the night. There I was made captain of the company, with John Tobin as sergeant of the guard, and W. H. Dame as chaplain. Guards were placed out to take care of the stock. That night there was quite a snowstorm.
Next morning, the weather was cold and disagreeable. We made our way to Green River, where we met some people who had apostatized from the Church, and were going back to St. Louis; we also met some Shoshone Indians who were friendly. We camped on the Big Sandy that night, and had quite a hunt for our animals, which strayed off because there was so little grass. But we recovered all of them.
On May 10th we came to Pacific Springs, where we met Buzzard, Beebe, Woolley and company, and received them into our company without any change in organization. That day we crossed over the South Pass and the Sweetwater River, and camped on Willow Creek. Next day we went through a number of snowdrifts, passed over the Rocky Ridge and to the Sweetwater, following along the river. That night we met a party of Shoshone Indians returning from a fight with the Crow Indians. The following morning, the 12th, we missed part of our animals, and were detained till 11 o'clock securing them again. We then moved forward on our journey, and on the 13th, at the second crossing of the Sweetwater, encountered a severe snowstorm.
From then till the 18th the wind was very high, and the weather disagreeable. Grass was very scarce. On the 14th we met a band of Arapahoe Indians on a buffalo hunt, and on the 15th met Captain Reynolds with a party of explorers. We afterwards heard that the entire party were killed by Blackfeet Indians, on the headwaters of the Missouri River. On the 18th, as we were traveling down the Platte River, Sergeant Min, with a small party of soldiers from Fort Laramie, searched the wagons in our company for three deserters from Camp Floyd. There were two of them in our camp. They had come to us in Parley's Canyon, saying they had been discharged. One of them, George Kelly, showed his discharge papers, but he had re-enlisted, and deserted after receiving his bounty. The other was a servant who had stolen a gold watch. His name was Alexander Demster. Both were taken to Fort Laramie.
On May 20th we arrived within seven miles of Fort Laramie, where we rested our animals and attended to necessary work for proceeding farther. We also built a raft and went across to the fort for our mail, getting a few letters. There was none for me. We wrote to our families, and on the 22nd again moved forward. This time we had two other discharged soldiers with us; one of them had a wife and child. I had changed from Samuel White's wagon to D. Savage's, and drove his six-mule team most of the way. From the 23rd on we met many people bound for California, Oregon, or the Pike's Peak gold mines.
We passed Chimney Rock on May 25th, and rested that evening at a fair camping ground. There had been some dissatisfaction on the part of owners of teams because the grass had been short and the animals were not doing well. Fault was found with the camping places, and as Apostles Lyman and Rich often had been consulted and had suggested the location for camp, these prominent members of our company felt that if there were any blame in making the choice it belonged to them. So the Apostles asked forgiveness for what they had done, and promised they would have no more to do with directing the journeyings of the company. When I found that I was deprived of the counsel of such men, I resigned my office as captain. John Tobin also resigned as sergeant of the guard. That night was passed with the camp in a disorganized state, and next morning there was no one to lead out with orders to proceed. The team owners and others found themselves well puzzled, and began to realize the mistake that had been made. By advice of Apostle C. C. Rich, I called the company together, but none knew what to do. Finally, Elder Rich suggested that they elect as captain someone they would not find so much fault with. The vote was for me, and at the request of Elder Rich I again assumed command, and we moved on. John Brown was selected as sergeant of the guard.
At Ash Hollow we learned that the St. Joseph and Great Salt Lake mail coach had been robbed on Greasewood Creek, by Shoshone Indians, and that the mail carriers had been killed. We were detained at Ash Hollow several hours on the 27th, by the severe illness of A. Beebe's wife. For several days thereafter there were high winds, and showers, making the roads very disagreeable, so that it took us till May 31st to reach Buffalo Creek, where we saw some buffalo. The next night we camped ten miles above Fort Kearney. On June 2nd we called at Dr. Henry's ranch for dinner, and seven miles further on reached the place where Joseph E. Johnson and his brother had located, and were publishing a paper called the Mountain Echo. At this point Nephi Johnson and Daniel Babbitt left us, as they had reached the end of their journey. We continued on four miles further, and camped.
Proceeding on our journey, we reached and crossed the Elkhorn River on June 6th, and that night met and camped with a company of Latter-day Saints crossing the plains with handcarts. The company was in good spirits, and glad to see us, and we spent the evening in singing the songs of Zion. Just as we had gone to bed, Apostle George Q. Cannon; who had charge of the Church emigration that year, came up, in company with Horton Haight and others, and we were glad to arise and shake hands with him. He was a particular friend and brother with whom several of us had traveled many miles and spent many pleasant hours. After a long talk Elder Cannon turned in with me for sleep.
On the morning of June 7th, the members of the handcart company were called together, and Apostles Lyman and Rich gave them some good instructions. Then we bade them good-bye, and proceeded to Florence, where we met many warm-hearted Saints from Europe. On the 8th, I procured a span of mules from Horton Haight, and a carriage from George Q. Cannon, and accompanied by J. C. Rich, crossed the Missouri River to Calhoun, Harrison County, Iowa, where we met with my father and his family. They were well, and greatly pleased to see me. We visited with my relatives till the 11th, when J. C. Rich and I parted at Crescent City, while I returned to Florence, where my father visited me on the 12th, and invited Apostles Lyman and Rich and myself to take dinner at the finest hotel in the town, which we did. My father promised me there that if he lived and was able to sell his property, he would accompany me to Utah when I returned from my mission.
On June 15th, I went to Omaha in company with J. C. Rich, F. M. Lyman, and R. McBride, where we were joined next day by A. M. Lyman, C. C. Rich, G. Q. Cannon, and John Tobin. We took passage on the steamboat Omaha for St. Joseph, Missouri, where we landed on the morning of the 18th. That day while strolling through the city with Francis M. Lyman, I first saw a locomotive and railway train in motion. It was to us a grand sight, and we viewed it with admiration and satisfaction. At 6 a.m., on the 19th, we boarded the train, C. C. Rich, J. C. Rich and John Tobin going to St Louis, and the rest of us to Quincy, Illinois, where I left the party and went to Versailles, Brown County. There I received a hearty welcome from relatives and friends.
I remained in that locality five days, until the 24th, visiting uncles, brother-in-law, cousins, and other relatives, and also the farm on which I was reared. At Versailles, on the evening of the 21st, I lectured, by request, on my travels and experiences. The schoolroom being too small to accommodate the people, the Methodist church was procured, and was well filled, many of the audience being my old schoolmates. They were glad to meet me, as I was to meet them.
I stayed that night with Joseph F. Vandeventer, and next day, in company with him and his brother Thomas, visited my father's old farm, then owned by William Knox. There were many changes about the place. The cemetery was fenced into a pasture, and I was unable to find my brother's grave. The fruit trees in the orchard were well grown, and I was given some good apples and the best cider I ever tasted, made from fruit from trees I had set out with my own hands.
That day's walk brought to my recollection my youthful days, my hunts through the woods and my adventures, my toilsome labors in grubbing underbrush and clearing the land, threshing wheat in the hot, autumn sun, feeding stock in the cold winter, my cold fingers, benumbed body, and frozen toes—once shedding my toenails through frost, and peeling the skin off my feet—in short, I was reminded of much toil on the part of my parents, brothers and sisters and myself, and of many days of sickness with fever and ague. We returned to Versailles, and next evening, the 23rd, after more visiting, I consented to preach, and was given good attention by a large congregation. On the 24th, I went down to the river landing at the mouth of Crooked Creek, with my uncle and Joseph F. Vandeventer, but learning that the boats were uncertain, I resolved to go to Meridotia and there take train for New York, in order to meet Elder C. C. Rich. To do this, it was necessary for me to borrow twenty dollars, which I did of Mr. Vandeventer. At 9 o'clock that evening I was on my way, on the Quincy and Toledo line, passing through the great Wabash valley. After several changes of cars, and crossing North River on a ferry boat, I landed in New York City on June 26th, without knowing a soul that lived there.
I walked up to Broadway, and took a Sixth Avenue omnibus to Twenty-third Street, where I found the residence of Brother Jonas Croxall, and introduced myself to his wife, as he was not at home. I had eaten but two meals since I got into the cars at Meridotia, and they cost me seventy-five cents. I had ridden over one thousand miles on the cars from Illinois, and had ninety-five cents when I reached the end of the journey. My supper that night was provided at Brother Croxall's. About 11 o'clock in the evening Brothers Croxall and A. M. Lyman came in, they having been on a visit together at Brother Schettler's.