"TO YOUR TENTS, O ISRAEL."
"To your tents, O Israel!"
What a picture of quiet despair melting into calm resignation those
spring months presented! In April there had begun that wondrous move
into the unknown which had been the inspiration and yet the dread of
President Brigham Young. Only a patriot such as he could appreciate
the love of home and country which had forced this people ten years
before into a trackless wilderness; no one but a patriot could guess
what these new sacrifices must mean to the hunted and driven people.
Ten years of peace! Ten years of hardest labor ever performed by
any people, at any period; and now to start out into the wilderness
again! Who could tell the suffering, the anguish of a people whose
hearthstones were their altars, and whose religion was a home!
As the wagon driven by Aunt Clara's own delicate hands turned into the
State Road on the morning of the 12th of May, 1858, she saw a long,
straggling trail of wagons ahead of her; old and weather-worn most of
them were, having crossed the plains many times in the last twelve
years. There were crowds of little children packed in many of the
wagons, and in some there groaned and writhed the sick and helpless.
But all faces wore the expression of exalted determination borne only
by a people whose devotion could help them to bid adieu to comfort and
ease when duty or inspiration gave the ringing cry:
"To your tents, O Israel!"
Ah, how often in their broken and turbulent history as a people had
that clarion cry sounded in their ears!
And now, once again, Israel was on the march!
The usual chatter of women, the laugh of children, the merry exchange
of field and farm gossip from the men, these common features of their
communal life were almost hushed in the common sorrow which gripped the
vitals of every wanderer in that straggling train which was conveying
twenty thousand souls from Great Salt Lake City alone, and thousands
more from the northern towns, to the mountains! From the Eagle Gate
clear to the "Point of the Mountain"--that longest straight street in
all the world--the whole length of that twenty miles of road, straight
as engineering skill could plant--was one moving mass of wagons, with
and without covers; some with quilts over the wagon boxes, and some
without boxes or covers; driven by men, by women, and by little boys.
Great oxen on some of them lumbered heavily along; horses, mules,
and even patient cows were harnessed in the procession. The dust was
blinding; the day began to be hot. Out in the western horizon shone the
silvered edge of the Great Salt Lake, glistening, diamond-bright, under
the ardent sun.
At Dr. Dunyon's place at the Point of the Mountain the wagons of the
Winthrop family drew alongside the slower mule team driven by Aunt
Clara's slender but capable hands; and the voice of Ellen Tyler called
out from under the dusty wagon cover:
"Rachel, where's Dian? I have been looking for her all the morning."
"She is just behind in the last wagon. She thought she could help
grandmother if she stayed in that wagon. You get out and ride with her;
there's plenty of room in there;" and Rachel halted to chat awhile with
Aunt Clara.
Ellen quickly accepted this welcome invitation, and hurried back to her
friend.
She found Diantha sitting uncomfortably on a high box, leaving the
spring seat to be occupied by the old lady who was showing signs of
great weariness.
"Oh, Ellie, I am so glad you have come. Help me to unroll this bedding
and get a place fixed for grandma to lie down. I was sure she could not
ride on the spring seat, but she wanted to try it to save trouble."
The girls quickly unfastened the huge roll of bedding, and with the aid
of the lad who was driving the team, they made a fairly comfortable bed
on the boxes inside the wagon.
"Now, grandma, you try to sleep a little; you have not slept a wink all
night."
"Who could sleep, dearie?" answered the plaintive voice of the old lady.
The girls covered her feet with her shawl, and then both of them
crowded into the spring seat with the driver.
"Say, Dian, whose ring are you wearing? It looks like Charlie's," said
the quick voice of Ellen.
"Whose ring but my own, silly? Should I be wearing other people's
rings?"
Ellen was abashed with the little rebuff. She was too proud to ask for
confidence not willingly shared, yet she was sure the ring belonged to
her friend Charlie; she hastily turned the talk into safe, impersonal
channels.
"Don't you wonder where we are going, Dian?"
"My brother Appleton says we are to stop in Provo for awhile, until we
know what the army is going to do."
"And where do you think we will go after that?"
"No one seems to know. I guess President Young knows; he knows
everything. But he is too wise to tell anybody what he thinks, till the
time comes for action."
"I have heard Aunt Clara speak as if we were bound for a place in
Mexico, called Sonora."
"Well, I am sure I don't care where we go. We have had to pick up and
leave our beloved homes again, driven by those who hate us for our
religion. Aunt Clara says that not all of these men in Washington are
so cruel; Col. Haines told her that Captain Van Arden was our true
friend. And there are doubtless others."
"Did he say that of Captain Van Arden?" asked Ellie, her eyes aflame
with some pleasant recollection of the gallant captain's visit.
"Indeed he did. And he, together with Colonel Haines has persuaded
President Buchanan to send some peace commissioners out here to try and
fix up this awful blunder made by Buchanan himself. I wonder how it is
that men are so easily prejudiced against our people?"
Ellen was not given to general reflections; to her, life was an
extremely personal affair. So she began a running chatter about the
news they had received of John Stevens.
"Did you know that John is now one of the chief officers in the Utah
militia?"
Dian turned the ring round and round on her finger and said nothing in
reply to Ellen's chatter. She was not a bit interested in John Stevens,
nor was she prepared to open her own thoughts for the keen eyes of her
loving friend. There are some things that are too hazy in a girl's mind
for analysis; and Dian was content to listen while she idly dreamed
of Charlie Rose and what he would do about the ring, when he really
fell in love with a girl. And what would John Stevens think about her
wearing Charlie's ring? But the hours dragged along, night came, and
the weary travelers camped wherever water and wood could be found. Next
morning's sun found most of the mighty host once more on the dusty
highway, faces to the South, and with uplifted hearts to a Providence
that had never forgotten Zion.
"To your tents, O Israel!"
Israel was on the march! The high road of Destiny might be dusty with
blinding prejudice, and hot with men's hate and scorn. But Israel was
just a band of loyal men and women who trusted God and feared no man.
And so they went forth, this modern Israel, singing hymns while the
issues of life and death wove themselves into intricate patterns on the
web and woof of the mysterious future!
The evening shades of the second day found our friends halted on the
Provo river bottoms, a part of that temporary encampment which made the
small city a veritable summer pioneer metropolis.
The long, tiresome journey was at last completed, and the Winthrops
and Tylers could find no better place in all Provo than a low adobe
hut, which was then used as a bear den by the family who had built
themselves a new house further up the street. Mr. Bruin was taken
summarily out of his quarters, the boys and children spent several
hours cleaning out the hut, while the women cooked their frugal supper
over the campfire, and then all retired at a late hour, weary with the
long two days' travel.