THE PIONEERS--THE PIONEER COMPANIES THAT FOLLOWED--METHOD OF THE
MARCH--MRS. HORNE ON THE PLAINS--THE EMIGRANT'S POST-OFFICE--PENTECOSTS
BY THE WAY--DEATH AS THEY JOURNEYED--A FEAST IN THE DESERT--"AUNT
LOUISA" AGAIN.
Very properly President Young and a chosen cohort of apostles and
elders formed the band of pioneers who bore the standard of their
people to the Rocky Mountains. On the 7th of April, 1847, that famous
company left winter quarters in search of another Zion and gathering
place. Three women only went with them. These must be honored with a
lasting record. They were Clara Decker, one of the wives of Brigham
Young; her mother, and Ellen Sanders, one of the wives of H. C. Kimball.
Yet the sisters as a mass were scarcely less the co-pioneers of that
apostolic band, for they followed in companies close upon its track. It
was with them faith, not sight. They continued their pilgrimage to the
West early in June. On the 12th, Captain Jedediah M. Grant's company
moved out in the advance.
"After we started out from winter quarters," says Sister Eliza Snow,
"three or four days were consumed in maneuvering and making a good
ready, and then, at an appointed place for rendezvous, a general
meeting was held around a liberty-pole erected for the purpose, and
an organization effected, similar to that entered into after leaving
Nauvoo.
"As we moved forward, one division after another, sometimes in
fifties, sometimes in tens, but seldom traveling in hundreds, we
passed and repassed each other, but at night kept as nearly compact
as circumstances would admit, especially when in the Indian country.
East of Fort Laramie many of the Sioux Nation mixed with our traveling
camps, on their way to the fort, where a national council was in
session. We had no other trouble with them than the loss of a few
cooking utensils, which, when unobserved, they lightly fingered; except
in one instance, when our ten had been left in the rear to repair a
broken wagon, until late in the evening. It was bright moonlight, and
as we were passing one of their encampments, they formed in a line
closely by the roadside, and when our teams passed, they simultaneously
shook their blankets vigorously on purpose to frighten the teams and
cause a stampede, probably with the same object in view as white
robbers have in ditching railroad trains. However, no serious injury
occurred, although the animals were dreadfully frightened."
Sister Horne thus relates some incidents of the journey:
"Apostle John Taylor traveled in the company that my family was with,
Bishop Hunter being captain of the company of one hundred, and Bishop
Foutz and my husband being captains of fifties. The officers proposed,
for safety in traveling through the Indian country, that the two
fifties travel side by side, which was agreed to, Bishop Foutz's fifty
taking the north side. For some days the wind blew from the south with
considerable force, covering the fifty on the north with dust from
our wagons. This continued for two weeks; it was then agreed that the
two companies should shift positions in order to give us our fair
proportion of the dust; but in a day or two afterwards the wind shifted
to the north, thus driving the dust on to the same company as before.
After having some good natured badinage over the circumstance, our
company changed with the unfortunates and took its share of the dust.
"One day a company of Indians met us and manifested a desire to trade,
which we were glad to do; but as the brethren were exchanging corn
for buffalo robes, the squaws were quietly stealing everything they
could lay hands upon. Many bake-kettles, skillets and frying-pans were
missing when we halted that night.
"As our wagons were standing while the trading was going on, one Indian
took a great fancy to my little girl, who was sitting on my knee, and
wanted to buy her, offering me a pony. I told him 'no trade.' He then
brought another pony, and still another, but I told him no; so he
brought the fourth, and gave me to understand that they were all good,
and that the last one was especially good for chasing buffalo. The
situation was becoming decidedly embarrassing, when several more wagons
drew near, dispersing the crowd of Indians that had gathered around me,
and attracting the attention of my persistent patron."
The emigrant's post-offices are thus spoken of by Sister Eliza:
"Much of the time we were on an untrodden way; but when we came on the
track of the pioneers, as we occasionally did, and read the date of
their presence, with an 'all well' accompaniment, on a bleached buffalo
skull, we had a general time of rejoicing."
For years those bleached buffalo skulls were made the news agents of
the Mormon emigrations. The morning newspaper of to-day is not read
with so much eagerness as were those dry bones on the plains, telling
of family and friends gone before.
It was a long, tedious journey to those pioneer sisters, yet they had
pentecosts even on their pilgrimage. Again quoting from Sister Eliza:
"Many were the moon and starlight evenings when, as we circled around
the blazing fire, and sang our hymns of devotion, and songs of praise
to him who knows the secrets of all hearts, the sound of our united
voices reverberated from hill to hill, and echoing through the silent
expanse, seemed to fill the vast concave above, while the glory of God
seemed to rest on all around. Even now while I write, the remembrance
of those sacredly romantic and vivifying scenes calls them up afresh,
and arouses a feeling of response that language is inadequate to
express."
But there were dark days also. The story changes to sickness in the
wagons and death by the wayside:
"Death," says Sister Eliza, "made occasional inroads among us. Nursing
the sick in tents and wagons was a laborious service; but the patient
faithfulness with which it was performed is, no doubt, registered in
the archives above, as an unfading memento of brotherly and sisterly
love. The burial of the dead by the wayside was a sad office. For
husbands, wives and children to consign the cherished remains of
loved ones to a lone, desert grave, was enough to try the firmest
heartstrings.
"Although every care and kindness possible under the circumstances
were extended to her, the delicate constitution of Mrs. Jedediah M.
Grant was not sufficient for the hardships of the journey. I was with
her much, previous to her death, which occurred so near to Salt Lake
Valley, that by forced drives, night and day, her remains were brought
through for interment. Not so, however, with her beautiful babe of
eight or ten months, whose death preceded her's about two weeks; it was
buried in the desert."
The companies now began to hear of the pioneers and the location of
"Great Salt Lake City." On the 4th of August several of the Mormon
battalion were met returning from the Mexican war. They were husbands
and sons of women in this division. There was joy indeed in the
meeting. Next came an express from the valley, and finally the main
body of the pioneers, returning to winter quarters. On the Sweetwater,
Apostle Taylor made for them a royal feast, spoken of to this day.
Sisters Taylor, Horne, and others of our leading pioneer women,
sustained the honors of that occasion.
Early in October the companies, one after another, reached the valley.
The next year many of the pioneers made their second journey to the
mountains, and with them now came Daniel H. Wells, the story of whose
wife, Louisa, shall close these journeys of the pioneers.
Although exceedingly desirous of crossing the plains with the first
company of that year, her father was unable to do more than barely
provide the two wagons necessary to carry his family and provisions,
and the requisite number of oxen to draw them. The luxury of an extra
teamster to care for the second wagon was out of the question; and
so Louisa, although but twenty-two years of age, and although she
had never driven an ox in her life, heroically undertook the task of
driving one of the outfits, and caring for a younger brother and sister.
The picture of her starting is somewhat amusing. After seeing that her
allotment of baggage and provisions, along with her little brother and
sister, had been stowed in the wagon; with a capacious old-fashioned
sun-bonnet on her head, a parasol in one hand and an ox-whip in the
other, she placed herself by the side of her leading yoke of oxen and
bravely set her face westward. Matters went well enough for a short
distance, considering her inexperience with oxen; but the rain began
to pour, and shortly her parasol was found to be utterly inadequate,
so in disgust she threw it into the wagon, and traveled on in the wet
grass amid the pouring rain. Presently the paste-board stiffeners
of her sun-bonnet began to succumb to the persuasive moisture, and
before night, draggled and muddy, and thoroughly wet to the skin, her
appearance was fully as forlorn as her condition was pitiable.
This was truly a discouraging start, but nothing daunted she pressed on
with the company, and never allowed her spirits to flag. Arrived at the
Sweetwater, her best yoke of oxen died from drinking the alkali water,
and for a substitute she was obliged to yoke up a couple of cows.
Then came the tug of war; for so irregular a proceeding was not to be
tolerated for a moment by the cows, except under extreme compulsion.
More unwilling and refractory laborers were probably never found, and
from that point onward Louisa proceeded only by dint of the constant
and vigorous persuasions of her whip.
During the journey a Mrs. McCarthy was confined; and it was considered
necessary that Louisa should nurse her. But it was impossible for her
to leave her team during the day; so it was arranged that she should
attend the sick woman at night. For three weeks she dropped her whip
each night when the column halted, and leaving her team to be cared for
by the brethren, repaired to Mrs. McCarthy's wagon, nursing her through
the night, and then seizing her whip again as the company moved forward
in the morning.
However, she maintained good health throughout the journey, and safely
piloted her heterodox outfit into the valley along with the rest of the
company.
On the journey, after wearing out the three pairs of shoes with
which she was provided, she was obliged to sew rags on her feet for
protection. But each day these would soon wear through, and often she
left bloody tracks on the cruel stones.
It was on this journey that she first became acquainted with Gen.
Wells, to whom she was married shortly after they reached the valley.
As the senior wife of that distinguished gentleman, "Aunt Louisa" is
well known throughout Utah; and as a most unselfish and unostentatious
dispenser of charity, and an ever-ready friend and helper of the sick
and needy, her name is indelibly engraved on the hearts of thousands.