The dinner over, our brethren took a fin_The Autobiography of Parley Parker Pratt One of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Embracing His Life, Ministry, and Travels

prison, loaded with love, respects, compliments and messages to our

families and friends in Illinois. All these, together with the

goodbyes and farewells, were heard and witnessed by the keeper's

family, and served the purpose for which they were intended, viz:

To lull them into security, and to remove all possible ground of

suspicion as to our intentions.

After riding out of town a mile or two in the forest, on the

road towards Illinois, they turned off into the thick leaved

wilderness, and made their way in secret, as best they could, to

the thicket agreed upon, within about half a mile of the prison;

where, with horses saddled and bridle reins in hand, they awaited

in anxious suspense the slow progress of the setting sun.

CHAPTER XXXII.

------------------------

Description of the Prison:--Ladies in the Prison:--Evening

of a Public Day:--Song:--Obstinate Coffee Pot:--Order of

Attack:--Escape:--Race:--Great Excitement:--Our Friends in the

Thicket:--Prisoners Gain the Thicket:--Flight:--Encounter:--Climb

a Tree:--Faint:--Prayers:--Night Favors us at Last:--Loss of my

Horse:--Journey on Foot:--Reflections.

The prison at Columbia was situated in the same square with the

courthouse, being on the north edge of the town. Between it and the

wilderness, where our friends held the horses in waiting, there

were several fields and fences, say for the distance of half a

mile, consisting of meadow and pasture land, and all in full view

of the town. The prison consisted of a block house, two stories

high, with two rooms below and two above. The keeper and his family

occupied one end, and the other was used as the prison--the only

entrance being through the lower room of the dwelling part, which

was occupied by the family, and then up a steep flight of stairs,

at the head of which was a heavy oaken door, ironed, locked and

bolted as if to secure a Bonaparte or a Samson. On the inside of

this was still another door, which was but slender, with a square

hole near the top, of sufficient size to hand in the food and

dishes of the prisoners.

The large, heavy door had always to be opened when food, drink,

or other articles were handed in; and while open, the inner door

served as a temporary guard to prevent prisoners from escaping, and

was not always opened on such occasions, the food being handed

through the hole in the top of the door, while the door itself

remained locked. However, as a fortunate circumstance for us, the

coffee pot when filled would not easily slip through the hole in

the door, and, rather than spill the coffee and burn his fingers,

the keeper would sometimes unlock and open the inner door, in order

to set in this huge and obstinate pot; and once in, the door would

immediately close, and the key be turned, while the outer door

would perhaps stand open till the supper was finished, and the

dishes handed out.

Now, our whole chance of escape depended on the question,

whether the inner door would be opened that evening, or the coffee

pot squeezed in at the hole in the top. Mrs. Phelps and Mrs. Gibbs

were in the upper room of the keeper's apartment, near the head of

the stairs, and only a log or timber partition between us and them,

and several open crevices in the same, so that we could easily

communicate with them. One of them was waiting the issue of the

great scene about to be enacted with almost breathless interest and

feverish anxiety, as on the good or ill success of that moment

depended her future hopes through life, while the other was totally

ignorant of the whole affair. In a far corner of our prison sat

Luman, the old apostate, entirely ignorant of the whole plan, and

with no other anxiety than a slight wish for the sun to go down,

that he might enjoy his supper and the society of his dear "Phila"

in his curtained bed in the upper room, while we were locked in the

dungeon below to sleep on an oak floor, amid cobwebs and filth.

The citizens of the town were now some of them gathering in

small groups outside of their doors to enjoy the quiet of a summer

evening, to smoke a cigar or chat over the merits of the

celebration; while others were on horseback, to enjoy an evening's

ride or to return to their homes. Bands of music, or rather an

occasional beat of the drum, or blast of the bugle, was still to be

heard in the distance; while a few soldiers, or rather militia in

uniform, were hurrying to and fro. Groups of boys were playing

about the square, and last, though not least, our flag was still on

high, with Liberty and the eagle in bold colors waving to the night

breeze. This had so attracted the attention of the little fellows

that once and again they begged of us to make them a present of it;

but we told them we could not spare it till the next morning--the

fact is, we were not willing to surrender our castle before the

time, or till we made good our retreat.

As the sun began to decline behind the long range of forest

which bounded the western horizon, and the lengthened shadows of

the tall trees were thrown over our prison, we called upon the Lord

to prosper us and open our way, and then sang aloud the following

lines:

Lord, cause their foolish plans to fail,

And let them faint or die:

Our souls would quit this poor old jail,

And fly to Illinois--

To join with the embodied Saints,

Who are with freedom blest:

That only bliss for which we pant,

With them awhile to rest.

Give joy for grief--give ease for pain,

Take all our foes away;

But let us find our friends again

In this eventful day.

These lines were sung several times over, with the spirit and

with the understanding also, and very loud and distinct--being

heard by the old apostate and his wife, and by the keepers of the

prison; but the doctrine of spiritualizing had become so prevalent

that neither this, nor the flag of liberty, nor any other Scripture

seemed to them to have any literal meaning, till they found too

late the true interpretation by the fulfillment.

The sun was now setting, and the footsteps of the old keeper

were heard on the stairs--the key turned, the outer door grated on

its huge hinges, while at the same moment we sprang upon our feet,

hats and coats on (rather an unusual dress for a hot day in

July--for, by the bye, my hat proved to be a fur cap, which I wore

when first taken in November previous), and stood by the door to

act the part of waiters in receiving the dishes and food for

supper, and placing them on the table. Dish after dish was handed

in through the small aperture in the door, and duly received and

placed upon the table by us, with as much grace and as calm

countenances as if we thought of nothing else but our suppers. And

I will now venture to say that famishing men never watched the

movements of a coffee pot with more anxiety than we did on this

occasion. At length the other dishes all being handed in, the huge

pot made its appearance in the hole in the top of the door, but one

of us cried out to the keeper--"Colonel, you will only spill the

coffee by attempting to put it through, besides, it burns our

fingers; it will be more convenient to unlock and hand it in at the

door." With this it was lowered again, and the key turned on the

inner door.

In this, as in most other fields of battle, where liberty and

life depend on the issue, every one understood the part assigned to

him and exactly filled it. Mr. Follett was to give the door a

sudden pull, and fling it wide open the moment the key was turned.

Mr. Phelps being well skilled in wrestling was to press out

foremost, and come in contact with the jailer; I was to follow in

the centre, and Mr. Follett, who held the door, was to bring up the

rear while sister Phelps was to pray.

No sooner was the key turned than the door was seized by Mr.

Follett with both hands; and with his foot placed against the wall,

he soon opened a passage, which was in the same instant filled by

Mr. Phelps, and followed by myself and Mr. Follett. The old jailer

strode across the way, and stretched out his arms like Bunyan's

Apollion, or like the giant Despair in Doubting Castle, but all to

no purpose. One or two leaps brought us to the bottom of the

stairs, carrying the old gentleman with us headlong, helter

skelter, while old Luman sat and laughed in his corner of the

prison, and Mrs. Phelps exclaimed, "O Lord God of Israel, thou

canst help." Old Mrs. Gibbs looked on in silent amazement, while

the jailer's wife acted the part of the giant Despair's wife,

Diffidence, and not only assisted in the scuffle, but cried out so

loud that the town was soon alarmed. In the meantime we found

ourselves in the open air, in front of the prison and in full view

of the citizens, who had already commenced to rally, while Mr.

Phelps and the jailer still clinched fast hold of each other like

two mastiffs. However, in another instant he cleared himself, and

we were all three scampering off through the fields towards the

thicket.

By this time the town was all in motion. The quietness of the

evening was suddenly changed into noise and bustle, and it was soon

evident that the thrilling scenes of the great drama of the 4th of

July, and of the Columbian celebration of liberty were yet to be

enacted. The streets on both sides of the fields where we were

running were soon thronged with soldiers in uniform, mounted

riflemen, footmen with fence stakes, clubs, or with whatever came

to hand, and with boys, dogs, etc., all running, rushing,

screaming, swearing, shouting, bawling and looking, while clouds of

dust rose behind them. The cattle also partook of the general panic

and ran bellowing away, as if to hide from the scene. The fields

behind us also presented a similar scene. Fences were leaped or

broken down with a crash; men, boys and horses came tumbling over

hedge and ditch, rushing with the fury of a whirlwind in the chase;

but we kept our course for the thicket, our toes barely touching

the ground, while we seemed to leap with the fleetness of a deer,

or as the young hart upon the mountains.

Our friends who had stood waiting in the thicket, had watched

the last rays of the sun as they faded away, and had observed the

quiet stillness of the evening as it began to steal over the

distant village where we were confined; and had listened with

almost breathless anxiety for the first sound which was to set all

things in commotion, and which would say to them in language not to

be misunderstood, that the struggle had commenced. For some moments

after the last golden beam had disappeared they listened in vain.

The occasional lowing of a cow as she came home from the woodland

pasture, impatient for her calf and the milkmaid to ease her of her

rich burthen; the mingled sound of human voices in the distance in

common conversation, the merry laugh of the young beaux and their

sweethearts, the quiet song of the whippoorwill, mingled with the

merry notes of the violin, the thrill of the bugle, or the soft and

plaintive notes of the flute, stole upon the silence of the

evening, and were occasionally interrupted by the clatter of hoofs,

as a few of the citizens were retiring from the enjoyments of a

public day to their own peaceful homes in the country. These, and

the beatings of their anxious and almost bursting hearts, were the

only sounds which fell upon their ear, till suddenly they heard a

rumbling and confused noise, as of footsteps rushing down the

stairs of a prison, then a shrill cry of alarm from Mrs.

Diffidence, the giantess, and soon followed by the shouts and rush

of men, dogs, horses and prisoners towards the spot where they were

located. They then sprang forward to the edge of the fields and ran

back again to the horses, and again returned, as if the using of

their own limbs would serve to add nimbleness to those of the

prisoners, and to quicken their speed.

As soon as the prisoners drew near, they were hailed by their

friends, and conducted to the horses. They were breathless and

nearly ready to faint; but in a moment they were assisted to mount,

and a whip and the reins placed in their hands, while the only

words interchanged were--"Fly quickly, they are upon you!" "Which

way shall we go?" "Where you can; you are already nearly

surrounded." "But what will you do? They will kill you if they

cannot catch us." "We will take care of ourselves; fly, fly, I say,

instantly." These words were exchanged with the quickness of

thought, while we were mounting and reining our horses; in another

instant we were all separated from each other, and each one was

making the best shift he could for his own individual safety.

I had taken about the third jump with my horse when I

encountered a man rushing upon me with a rifle, and, taking aim at

my head, he said, "G--d d--n you, stop, or I'll shoot you." He was

then only a few paces from me, and others were rushing close in his

rear, but I turned my horse quickly in another direction, and

rushed with all speed into the thickest of the forest, followed for

some minutes by him and his dog; but I soon found myself alone,

while I could only hear the sound of distant voices, the rushing of

horsemen in every direction, with the barking of dogs. What had

become of my companions or our friends, I knew not. I rode on at

full speed for a mile or more, when the woods terminated, and no

alternative was left for me but to go either to the right or to the

left into one of the public highways where I would be every moment

exposed to my pursuers, or go over the fence and pass through the

open fields to the wilderness beyond, or, on the other hand, to

turn back into the heart of the forest, partly towards the town and

prison from whence I had escaped. As horses' feet and men's voices

were already heard along the highways which lay on each side of me,

I determined upon the latter. I, therefore, changed my course, took

my back track, and plunged into the depth of the forest. I then

dismounted, tied my horse in a thicket, walked some distance from

him and climbed a tree--intending to wait in this situation amid

the concealment of the thick foliage till the darkness of evening

would enable me to proceed with safety. Seating myself in one of

its forked branches, and placing my arms in two other similar

forks, I was supported from falling, although in a moment after I

had ceased my exertions I fainted away. In this situation I

remained for sometime, without the least power to change my

position or help myself; my breath was gone through over exertion,

and my mouth and throat parched with a burning thirst, my stomach

sickened, and as I began to breathe I was seized with vomiting, and

threw up nearly all the food which my stomach contained. I then

gradually recovered my strength till I could speak, when I began to

call on the Lord, saying, "O Lord, strengthen me this once, deliver

me from my persecutors and bring me in safety to a land of liberty,

and I will praise thy name and give thee all the glory, and the

remnant of my days shall be wholly devoted to thy service; for

surely my life is now at stake, and if preserved, it is thy gift,

therefore I shall owe it all to thee."

The darkness of evening was now fast setting in, and every

moment seemed to increase my safety and security from immediate

discovery, although I could still hear the distant sound of

tramping horses, and the voices of men and dogs in pursuit, and

sometimes so near that I could distinguish some of their words. It

was a dark and moonless evening, the sky was only lighted by the

glimmer of a few stars partly obscured by the clouds, and the thick

foliage of the forest increased the gloom, and served to render the

darkness nearly complete. I now came down from the tree and felt my

way to the place where I had tied my horse, but as good or ill luck

would have it, he had loosed himself and gone, leaving me to my

fate. I then groped my way amid the dark shades of the forest to a

small stream of warm, muddy water, and, stooping down, partly

quenched my thirst. I then made my way to the highway and commenced

my journey on foot, carefully watching on either hand lest I should

be surprised and taken.

I was an entire stranger to the country--having no guide but the

polar star. My road lay nearly northward, and upwards of a hundred

miles of a wild country, peopled only by enemies, still lay between

me and a State where the principles of freedom yet prevailed in a

sufficient degree to insure my safety. If I could make my way

through this wilderness of enemies, on foot, after the weakness and

debility caused by eight months' confinement, and after the

fatigues of my evening's race, and neither inquire the way nor make

my appearance at any house for entertainment and refreshment, then

I should still have the great Mississippi River to ferry over, and

be liable to be discovered and retaken in the act, while in sight

of liberty. The thoughts of these dangers the inquiries of my mind

as to what had become of my fellow prisoners and friends, which I

had no means of satisfying, and the hopes and expectations of soon

meeting my family and friends in a land of liberty, alternately

occupied my mind as I slowly pursued my solitary way during that

dark and, to me, eventful night.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

------------------------

Dawn:--Bewildered in a Forest:--Beautiful

Valley:--Escape of Phelps:--Dialogue:--His Final Escape

and Arrival in Illinois:--Fate of our Two Friends:--Interview

between my Brother Orson and my Wife:--She Prepares for my

Reception:--Disappointment:--Excitement:--Search:--Suspense:--

Scenes at the Prison:--Treatment of Mrs. Phelps:--Mr. Follett

Retaken:--His Return to Prison:--Chains:--Escape of Mrs.

Phelps:--Finale of Luman and Phila.

At length the morning began to dawn, but it proved to be a

cloudy day; no mark was left in the heavens to determine the point

of compass, while at the same time my road became every moment more

obscure, and finally terminated in a deer path, which wound along

among the hills and vales of a dense and entirely unsettled forest,

and finally disappeared. It was now broad day. The wild forest

extended around far and wide, and no sign of human existence or

occupation. I still wandered slowly on, not knowing whether I was

every moment travelling nearer to friends, and home, and liberty,

or to the place of dreary confinement. The deer and wild turkey

occasionally started up before me, and the howl of the wolf was

heard in the distance. At length I came to a beautiful clear

stream, which seemed to wind through a fine valley. The wild

flowers blooming in richest variety sent forth sweet odors, and the

birds of the forest were pouring forth in profusion their morning

songs.

I now sat down in safety, and took a small biscuit from my

pocket which Sister Phelps had kindly provided, and which was my

only store of food for the journey. With a hearty drink from the

crystal stream and this biscuit I made my first breakfast, after my

imprisonment, as a free son of Columbia. I recollect that while I

sat enjoying this solitary meal, far from friends and home,

surrounded with a scenery strange and wild, and without any guide

or any knowledge where I should claim the next refreshment, I

thought of the sweets of liberty I now enjoyed, and with a thankful

and joyous heart I exclaimed aloud, "Thank God for this hour, it is

the happiest of my life; I am free, although lost in the

wilderness, and if I cannot find myself, thank God nobody else can

find me." In this happy valley the reader may leave me to rest

awhile if he chooses, while he looks after the fate of the other

prisoners and our two friends, and also, Mrs. Phelps and the

affairs of the prison; bearing in mind at the same time that he

must return again and accompany me through the whole dangers, toils

and incidents of my journey to a land of liberty.

At the time we were separated in the heat of the pursuit, Mr.

Phelps made his escape much in the same manner as myself. He was at

first closely pursued, but at length he out distanced them all,

and, once out of their sight, he struck directly into the road, and

rode on toward Illinois. He had proceeded a few miles on his way,

when he was suddenly surrounded in the darkness of the night by a

company of horsemen who were out in pursuit of the prisoners. They

immediately hailed him, and cried out, "Say, stranger, G--d damn

you, what is your name?" He replied in the same rough and careless

manner, "You damned rascals, what is yours?" On finding he could

damn as well as themselves, they concluded he could not be a

Mormon, while his bold and fearless manner convinced them that he

was not a man who was fleeing for his life. They then begged his

pardon for the rough manner in which they had accosted him, "Oh,

you are one of the real breed. By G--d, no damned Mormon could

counterfeit that language, you swear real natteral; hurrah for old

Kentuck. But whar mought you live, stranger?" He replied, "just up

here; you mout a kno'd me, and then agin you moutn't. I think I've

seed you all a heap o' times, but I've been so damned drunk at the

fourth of independence, I hardly know myself or anybody else, but

hurrah for old Kentuck; and what about the damn'd Mormons?" "What

about 'em? egad, you'd a know'd that without axin', if you'd a seed

'em run." "What! they are not out of prison, are they?" "Out of

prison! Yes, the damn'd rascals raised a flag of liberty in open

day, and burst out, and down stars right in the midst of the public

celebration, out rassling the damn'd jailer, and outrunning the

whole town in a fair foot race. They reached the timber jist as

they war overtaken, but afore we could cotch 'em they mounted their

nags, and the way they cleared was a caution to Crockett. We tuk

one on 'em, and seed the other two a few feet distant, rushin'

their nags at full speed, but we couldn't cotch 'em nor shoot 'em

either; I raised my new Kentucky rifle, fresh loaded and primed,

with a good percussion, and taking fair aim at one of their heads

only a few yards distant, I fired, but the damn'd cap burst, and

the powder wouldn't burn." "Well, now, stranger, that's a mighty

big story and seems enemost onpossible. Did you say you cotched one

on 'em? Why I'd a tho't you'd a kilt him on the spot; what have you

done with him?" "They tuk him back to prison, I suppose, but it was

only the old one. If it had been one o' them tother chaps we would

a skinn'd 'em as quick as Crockett would a coon, and then eat 'em

alive without leaving a grease spot."

This interview over, the horsemen withdrew and left Phelps to

puruse his way in peace. He rode on during the night without

further molestation; but when day appeared he found himself in

rather an awkward fix for a traveller, having lost his hat in the

race the preceding day; he was, therefore, bareheaded, besides, his

face was somewhat bruised and scratched in the scuffle; however, he

concluded to make the best of it, and trust to Providence for the

issue. Riding up to a farm house to call for breakfast and to have

his horse fed, he began to banter the host to sell him an old straw

hat; "For," said he, "I got such a power of drink last evening at

the big doings that I couldn't ride straight, and tumbled off my

horse once or twice, and finally lost my hat." Judging from his

manner, and the dirt and scratches on his face, they readily

believed his tale, and furnished him with an old wide-brimmed,

miserable looking hat, which served as a very good disguise during

the remainder of the journey. Himself and horse refreshed, he

renewed his journey, and finally arrived in Illinois in safety,

having reached the ferry before his pursuers, and before the news

of the escape had spread so far. By his arrival the news soon

spread far and wide that we had made our escape from prison, and

that we might be looked for soon. This news was received with a

general joy, and produced a lively sensation, not only throughout

the Society, but among the public, generally--for all parties had

looked upon us as martyrs, doomed to suffer the vengeance of a set

of blood-thirsty outlaws and murderers. My brother, O. Pratt, and

the young Mr. Clark, who furnished us with the horses, must now be

looked after.

When we parted in the thicket, as has been before described,

they had only time to flee a few paces, when they found themselves

completely surrounded on every hand, and no possibility left them

of escape by running; they, therefore, dropped down into a small

ravine which had been made by the water during some former freshet,

and there lay as close to the earth as a young quail when its nest

is disturbed. The enemy passed close by them a number of times, and

so very near that they dared not to make the least motion--not even

to look up to see whether they were discovered.

At length night came on; the pursuers retired, and they arose

and pursued their journey on foot, and arrived safely in Illinois

soon after the arrival of Mr. Phelps. My brother immediately

repaired to the residence of my wife and children, who were waiting

his return in anxious suspense, in hopes to hear some news from me,

whom they considered still in prison--not having as yet heard any

news of the escape. As he entered the door Mrs. P. raised her

anxious and sorrowful eyes, and eagerly inquired:

"Have you seen my husband?"

"I have."

"Is he yet alive?"

"Yes."

"Is he well?"

"He is."

"O, thank God for that! Is there any prospect that he will ever

get free and return alive?"

"Well, I hope so; for the last time I saw him he was astride a

horse in the woods, and headed towards home on a gallop."

I shall not attempt to describe her feelings at that moment, as

the reader can best imagine them; but suffice it to say, after her

first transports were over he sat down and related to her the whole

affair which had transpired up to the time he last saw me. She was

now full of hope and expectation--although mingled with fear and

anxiety indescribable. If I eluded the pursuit of my enemies and

arrived in safety it was now time to look for my arrival; but if,

on the other hand, I was taken back and chained down in a dungeon;

or if I was shot down and left without a burial to be a prey to

wolves and turkey buzzards,--Oh, dreadful thought! Oh, horrible

suspense! Oh, the hope, joy, sorrow, anguish, misery, happiness,

frenzy, and feelings undefined which agitate and distract the bosom

of a wife and mother at such a moment! If man--hardhearted,

unfeeling man--could read the heart of a woman on such an occasion,

he would never more drive, imprison or kill his fellow man.

She soon set about preparing for the reception of her husband,

in case he should arrive, faint and exhausted with hunger and

fatigue. The table was spread, and food placed upon it; the house

was illuminated through the night, during which her anxious and

beating heart would not suffer her for one moment to sleep. She

watched during the entire night, and on several occasions opened

the door and looked abroad; but still the morning dawned and he

came not. Surely, thought she, he is slain or again confined in a

dungeon, loaded with chains, and kept for a sure prey to glut the

vengeance of a furious mob who have been disappointed of the rest

of their victims.

The excitement now became general; friends crowded in to inquire

the news and to sympathize with her, and to endeavor, if possible

to keep up her hopes. They argued that the same God who had

delivered him from prison, and strengthened him in the chase, and

the same God who prevented the powder from taking fire when the

deadly rifle was aimed at him, would also stand by him, and bring

him safely to his friends and home. This, in some measure, still

kept her spirits from sinking in despair.

Armed men were now despatched in various directions along the

river, and into Missouri, to endeavor, if possible, to meet with

him and protect him home. Another day and night at length passed

away in the same suspense, no tidings having been heard from him

nor from any of those who had gone in search. The pursuers,

however, were known to beat the ferry on the other side of the

river, watching his arrival. The same precaution was taken by them

at all the public ferries for some distance up and down the river.

The suspense and anguish of her aching bosom now became

intolerable; in vain they continued to assure her that he would be

preserved and return in safety. She could plainly see that, while

they sought to comfort her with hope, they themselves were half in

doubt and beginning to despair of his deliverance. Another long day

passed and another night set in, and still no news--except that the

ferries on the Missouri side were all strictly guarded, and the

entire people on the lookout to take him dead or alive. She had now

kept her table spread both day and night, and had watched for three

entire nights without sleep. "He cannot be alive and free,"

exclaimed she, "or I know he would fly to meet the fond welcome of

his wife and children, and relieve their aching hearts."

We must now return with our readers to the prison at Columbia,

and take a glance at the scenes which followed our departure, and

learn the fate of Mr. Follett and Mrs. Phelps. As soon as the

prisoners had cleared from the jailer, and were fairly under way,

Mrs. Phelps, who was still an inmate of the dwelling, became the

particular object of their spite and rage. The old jailer and his

wife commenced to rail and curse her as the author of all the

mischief. They threatened her with instant death, and finally

turned her out of doors in the dusk of the evening, and in the

midst of a mob who had gathered in great numbers around the prison

and raging like so many tigers disappointed of their prey. Being a

stranger and without money, friends, or acquaintances in the place,

she knew not where to go or what to do. She finally sat down in the

open air in the midst of the mob, by whom she was assailed, cursed,

insulted, threatened, and abused in the most unfeeling manner for

some time. But she still remained on the spot, and scarcely noticed

the slang and abuse of the raging rabble, so intent was she upon

the issue of the race--not knowing from one moment to the other

whether her husband would be shot down, or whether he would be

taken and brought back in triumph.

At length, after a watchful glance towards the wilderness, she

heard the shout of triumph amidst the hosts of the enemy, and next

was re-echoed from crowd to crowd, amid vollies of oaths, curses and

exulting laughs, "We've catched one of the damn'd Mormons and we'll

roast him alive over a slow fire, damn him." They now rallied

around her in great numbers, exulting and threatening, and boasting

that they had taken her husband and would kill him on the spot.

While they were thus abusing her she saw another crowd coming and a

prisoner in the midst, on whom they were venting their rage, as if

he would be torn to pieces. As they approached nearer it proved to

be Mr. Follet, on Mrs. Phelps' horse and side-saddle. He had been

surrounded, overpowered and taken at the time we were each

separated from the other. He was finally rescued from the mob, and

thrust alive into the lower dungeon and chained down to the floor.

He remained in this doleful situation for a few days, till the

wrath of the multitude had time to cool a little, and then he was

unchained by the sheriff and again brought into the upper apartment

and treated with some degree of kindness.

They now laughed with him about his adventure, praised him for

his bravery, and called him a good fellow. The truth of the matter

was, they had no great desire to take the lives of any but those

whom they had considered leaders; and since they had discovered

that Mr. Follett and Mr. Phelps were not considered religious

leaders among our society, they were in no great danger, except

they should happen to be killed in the heat of excitement or

passion.

We now leave him in his lonesome prison, with no other society

than the old apostate, Luman, and his dear Phila, while we get

Sister Phelps out of the trouble she was in. After the fate of the

prisoners seemed determined, she sank down exhausted on a block of

wood in the open air amid the surrounding darkness. Here she was

still mocked and insulted by the unfeeling rabble, till a certain

young man, more feeling than the others, declared that he was not

accustomed to see a female treated thus in America, and that if she

had no home his father and mother would receive her kindly and give

her protection under their roof till she could return to Illinois.

He then went home, and in a few minutes returned with his mother,

by whom she was kindly invited to their dwelling. On arriving there

she was treated in the kindest manner for about two weeks, during

which time her horse was kept from her and rode in search of the

prisoners. They finally restored her horse and saddle to her, and

she rode home in peace, where she eventually met her husband, and

rejoiced that she had been, in some measure, the means of his

deliverance.

And here I might as well inform the anxious reader of the final

liberation of the two remaining prisoners. Mr. Follett remained in

confinement for several months, and finally was dismissed and sent

home to Illinois, where he met his family, who had been expelled

from the State of Missouri, in common with others, during his

confinement. And, last of all, the old apostate came out by fair

acquittal. And should any of our readers have the curiosity to see

the charming couple, whose singular courtship and history run

through and make a principal thread of our narrative, they will

call at the little town of Augusta, a few miles from Fort Madison,

Iowa Territory, and inquire for "Luman and Phila," who were living

there in quiet at the last accounts.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

------------------------

Reminiscence:--Resume my Wanderings:--

Lost Again:--Storm:--Conversation:--Suspicious Characters:--

Lost in a Swamp:--Strange River:--Retrace my Steps:--Cross

the River:--Wild Scenery:--Strange Bedfellow:--Dawn:--Reach

the Mississippi:--Cross the River in a Canoe:--Land on an

Island:--Entangled in the Thickets:--Reembark:--Land in

Illinois:--An Old Acquaintance:--Arrive at Quincy.

I suppose by this time the reader has either forgotten the

circumstances in which he took leave of myself, or else is somewhat

weary with the winding of the narrative and impatient for it to

come to a close. The only apology I have to offer for the many

digressions and wanderings through which he has been led is, that I

consider it impolite and disrespectful to get myself out of a bad

place until I have first seen my friends all safely out. True, I

did not strictly observe this rule of good breeding in the escape

itself; therefore it becomes me to take the more care to observe it

now, when there is no danger, excepting that of being deserted by

some of my readers before I am safely out. However, if you still

wish to accompany me in all the windings of my wearisome and

dangerous adventure we will now turn to the happy valley, where you

recollect leaving me on the morning of the fifth of July in the act

of breakfasting on a small biscuit, while, to all appearances, I

was lost to myself and to all mankind.

After resting a few minutes I arose and travelled onward,

without any way to determine the course I was travelling. After

some miles, I came to a house in the woods, and ventured to inquire

of the woman the way to Columbia, and what course it lay from

there. By this means I learned that I was fourteen miles distant

from the prison in a northerly direction. I then took a course

directly opposite to her directions, and soon found myself among

settlements, and in a kind of road, but very indirect and winding

among fields and woods, or in the language of that county, among

"clarens" and "timber." I paid but little respect to the road, but

rather wandered around among the forests, and made my course as

well as I could without being seen.

At last the clouds thickened and it began to rain. In the

meantime I had again plunged into the depths of an unknown forest,

and lost all idea of the true point of the compass. The air now

became dense with thick clouds and mist, and the rain was pouring

in torrents. At first I thought that rather than expose myself by

another inquiry, I would sit down at the bottom of a large oak and

wait patiently for the clouds to break away, so that I could see

the sun, and thus determine my course, as to travel in uncertainty

would exhaust my strength for naught. I accordingly sat down; but

after waiting for a length of time, I found there was no prospect

of seeing the sun, moon, or stars for some days to come. In the

meantime I was becoming wet and cold, lame and stiff jointed from

the effects of my exertions the night previous. I was also aware

that hunger would soon be preying upon me, as I already felt very

much in need of refreshment. I, therefore, arose and wandered on

till I saw another house in the distance. I there ventured another

inquiry, by which I was enabled to make my way through the windings

of the forest, and finally to enter upon a vast prairie or

untimbered plain without inhabitants. Through this plain there was

a direct road to a place called Paris, which was now some twenty

miles distant and directly on my way. Here I could travel in

solitude, and have no difficulty in finding my way either by night

or day; and should I chance to meet a traveller in pursuit, I could

see him for some miles distant in the day time, and have time to

leave the road and hide myself in the grass before he could be near

me.

It was now drawing towards evening, and the rain was still

pouring in torrents, while the wind blew almost to a tempest. I was

weary exhausted with fatigue and hunger, and chilled and benumbed

with rain and wind which had drenched me for some hours. It had

been intention to travel through the night, but I now saw it was

impossible. I would be obliged to rest my weary limbs somewhere;

and to sit or lie down without shelter in such a tempest, and

benumbed as I then was, would be death; or at least it would be

what I could not endure; and to lodge at any house would expose me

to be discovered and taken by pursuers. As night approached I

hesitated for some time whether to continue to brave the tempest

and to pass the night in the rain, or to run the risk of being

taken by turning off the road and going a mile or two through the

wet grass to a settlement which was in sight, in the borders of the

wilderness, on the left of my road. At last I was compelled by the

severity of the storm to choose the latter. I accordingly made for

a house; but how was I to account for being a traveller, and on

foot--as nearly all men in that country travel on horseback?

However, my ingenuity soon prepared me a way to account for this

suspicious circumstance.

As I drew near the house the owner stood in the door looking out

upon the tempest and watching my approach--it being rather strange

to see a person from the open plain amid such a tempest. As I drew

near, all wet and dripping, I cried out very sociably, saying:

"Sir, can you entertain a drowning man here this terrible night?"

The answer was, "I reckon we mout: come in, stranger, you seem in a

mighty bad fix." I hobbled in as well as I could, being very lame

with walking, as well as benumbed with the storm; and without

giving time for any more inquiry, I began to complain of the

fatigue of walking, and how it had lamed me; at the same time

observing that my horse had played a very bad trick with me; he had

got away from me and strayed into the timber, where I could not

find him. "Ah," said he, "how did you happen to lose him?" "Why,"

said I, "I am from Indiana, and have been out in your wild woods

back here looking for land. I had been in the habit of letting my

horse bait a little occasionally, as he never seemed inclined to

leave till, last evening, he of a sudden wandered out of my sight

in the woods, and dark coming on, I could not track him, and

finally lost him; and, what is worse, he carried off my clothing

and all the fixings I had with me, even to my shooting irons and

ammunition. I shall now have to go clear to Paris on foot, and

remain there a few days till I can advertise him and obtain him

again."

"Oh!" exclaimed he, "it's a pity you should have such a heap of

trouble. Where did you stay last night?" I replied "the devil

himself could hardly answer that; for in hunting my horse I got

benighted, and lost myself instead of finding him; however, I made

my way out to the first cottage I could find, and took up with very

curious fare, I assure you." "What part of Indiana are you from?"

continued he. "From near Terre Haute," replied I. "What is the

price of land in that country now?" he inquired. I replied that it

had risen very much since the completion of the great national

road; "indeed," said I, "as a specimen of the rise of property I

could now take twenty-five dollars per acre for my little place in

the backwoods, which a few years ago only cost me three dollars and

seventy-five cents, so thought I would just mount my nag and ride

west here, and take a look in Illinois and Missouri, and if I could

suit myself I would go home and sell out, and come out here and

purchase." "Well," said he, "I reckon you must do a heap better here

than there, as we've a smart chance of land here that's very cheap,

besides," continued he, "we can make corn here so easy; and then,

agin, there's a power of range for cattle and horses." In this kind

of conversation the evening passed off very sociably. After eating

a hearty supper I retired to bed.

In the morning I awoke much refreshed, and found the storm had

subsided, and the sun shining in his strength. I tarried to

breakfast, which consisted of a good cup of coffee and a fowl, with

some corn bread or "dodger." After breakfast I vented my spite once

more, with angry and impatient words about my poor horse; grumbled

sorely at being so lame, and regretted very much at having to go on

foot all the way to Paris; and, said I, "I get so hungry and faint

in walking over these lonesome plains, where the houses are a dozen

miles apart, I believe, with your leave, I'll just pocket the

remainder of the dodger and chicken." "O, yes," said the good

woman, "take it and welcome. You mout want it, and then agin you

mout not; and although its coarse fare, yet we've seen a heap o'

times in this new country that we couldn't get as good." I thanked

her, and then settled my bill with her husband, and making her a

present of a quarter of a dollar, I took leave, and soon found my

way back to the road I had left the evening before. On arriving at

the road I found a fresh horse track had been made since the rain,

and immediately concluded one of my pursuers had passed in pursuit,

which I afterwards learned to be the fact.

I would here remark that some persons will perhaps be disposed

to censure me for saying that which was not strictly true in all

its points, in order to avoid discovery, and make good my escape.

But I can say, from the bottom of my heart, that I feel perfectly

justified in so doing, not only because it accomplished a good

object, and seemed according to wisdom, but we have numerous

instances in Scripture where God's prophets and people acted in a

similar way for a similar end. For instance, the New Testament

justifies Rahab, and even commends her, and includes her in the sum

of the faithful, because she hid the spies under the flax and

deceived their pursuers by stating that they had left the city and

fled to the mountains; and thus she became an accomplice, or an

aider and abettor of the people and purposes of God. David also,

who was the Lord's anointed, and a man after his own heart,

dissembled a number of times to save his life. At one time he

deceived the national priest, and thus obtained both bread and

armor, under pretense of being on the king's errand, while he was

in fact an outlaw, then in the act of fleeing for his life from

that same Saul. And Jesus himself mentions this to the Jews, and

justifies it. At another time he feigned himself insane, by

figuring on the wall and letting his spittle drizzle down on his

beard, in order to escape the Philistine judges. Oh, yes, says one,

but he was the Lord's anointed, and, therefore, had a right to save

his life at all hazards to fulfil God's purposes. To this I reply,

that I am also God's anointed, and have a greater reason for living

and a more worthy object to accomplish than he had. That may be,

says the objector, but who believes it? I answer, one hundred

people believe me in the days of my trouble and humility where one

believed David. And well they may; for I have a greater work to

accomplish than he ever had. But the world may blame unjustly. I

care not a straw for their judgment. I have one only that I serve,

and him only do I fear. The hypocrite who censures me may yet be

placed under similar circumstances, and then judge ye how he would

act.

But, to drop the argument and resume the history; I now pursued

my way until I entered upon a public road called the Louisiana

road, as it was connected with a ferry on the Mississippi at a

place called by that name. I had traveled that road before, and I

was not a little rejoiced to find myself on ground I was so well

acquainted with that I could travel by night without any danger of

missing my way. I was now in a part of the State which was

comparatively thickly inhabited, and, therefore, considered it

unsafe to proceed in the daytime, as the news of our escape must by

this time have spread far and wide. I, therefore, spent the day

either in concealment among the thickets, or in slowly progressing

on my journey with much caution and many deviations from the road,

in order to shun plantations and houses; but at night I pursued my

way with all the strength I had.

On the third or fourth day after my escape from prison I found

myself in the neighborhood of a settlement where I had formed some

acquaintances years before, and where once lived a small branch of

the Church, but they had all moved West, and, as I supposed, were

driven out of the State with the others. But I recollected a family

by the name of Ivy, who would still be living on the road, and who

had been members, but were now dissenters. I was now very hungry

and wanted a friend, but was in doubt whether they would befriend

or betray me, as they had once been my friends, and not only so,

but their near kindred had suffered in the general persecution, and

had shared the common banishment. I hesitated, prayed, and at

length came to the conclusion that I would venture past their door

in open day, and if no one discovered or recognized me I would take

it as a Providence, and conclude it was wisdom in God, as I would

not be safe with them; but if, on the other hand, I was saluted by

them, then I would think it a sign which Providence had given me as

a witness that I could trust to them. I accordingly walked past

their dwelling on Sunday evening, about two hours before sundown.

As I got nearly past, the little children who were playing in the

front door yard discovered me and cried out with surprise and joy,

"there is brother Pratt!" At this a young man came running out to

me, who proved to be one of my acquaintances, who was still a

member of the Church, and who had been driven from the upper

country; but, instead of going to Illinois with the rest, he had

come back and settled in his old neighborhood. I asked him where

Mr. Ivy, the man of the house, was. He replied that he and his wife

had gone to a neighbor's, two or three miles distant, on a visit;

"and," continued he, "I also am here on a visit at the same time,

and by this means I have very unexpectedly met with you; and I am

very glad, for the news has just reached here that the prisoners

had escaped, and that they burst a cap at one, and took another and

carried him back to prison. The other two have not been found."

This was the first news I had heard either of myself or the others.

I then requested him to go and charge the children strictly not to

mention that they had seen me, and then come with me into the

woods.

He did so. I then told him I was very hungry, faint and weary;

and not only so, but so lame I could hardly move; besides, my feet

were blistered, skinned and bloody. He said that his brother, who

was also a member, and had been driven with him from the upper

country, lived in an obscure place in the woods, some two miles

distant, and that his brother's wife and children were as true and

genuine Mormons as ever lived. He then took me on his horse and

conducted me through a pathless wild for two miles, and, coming in

sight of his brother's house, I dismounted and hid myself in a deep

valley, whose sides were nearly perpendicular and formed of craggy

rock, while he went to reconnoitre the house, and to get something

ready for me to eat. He soon returned, informing me that his

brother was out, and would not be in till dark; but the family

wished very much that I would come in, as the children would hold

their tongues, and it was thought to be perfectly safe. I declined,

however, for the present, and he brought me out some bread, milk

and cream, on which I refreshed myself till they prepared a more

substantial supper.

As evening came on, being pressed to come in, I finally

consented. On entering, I was received with joy by the family, and

sat down to supper. One of their neighbors, a young man soon

determined to tarry till the arrival of the man of the the house,

as he had some errand with him. This embarrassed me very much, for

I was fearful that he would arrive and salute me as an old

acquaintance, and call my name in the presence of the young man.

But the children (bless their souls) took good care for that

matter, they watched very narrowly for the arrival of their papa,

and when they saw him they whispered to him that brother P. was

there, and being just out of prison, he must not know him till Mr.

----- had gone.

The man came in, and I looked up, with a vacant stare, or rather

with a strange and distant air, and inquired if he was the man of

the house? He nodded coolly in the affirmative. I then inquired of

him if he had seen any stray "nags" in his neighborhood? I then

went on to describe my horse which had strayed from me, and

observed that I was out in search of him, and, being weary and

hungry, I had stopped to get some refreshment with him. He said I

was welcome to his house, and to such fare as he had; but he did

not seen any nags, except what was owned in the neighborhood.

The young man soon did his errand and withdrew. We then shook

each other by the hand most heartily, and, with a burst of joy and

smiles, inquired after each other's welfare. I told him I was well

nigh exhausted and worn out, and, withal, very lame, but still I

had some hopes of making my escape out of the State, and of living

to see my friends once more in a land of liberty. I then begged of

him to exchange with me, and take my cap and give me a hat in its

stead, which he did and then saddled his horse with a side saddle,

and placing me on horseback, he ran before and by my side on foot,

to take me on my journey. In this way we traveled till twelve

o'clock at night, when I dismounted, and he bid me farewell, in

order to reach his home again before the neighbors would arise and

find him missing.

He had given me directions which would lead to the Mississippi

River much nearer than the Louisiana ferry, and also more in the

direct course towards my family who resided at Quincy, and, besides

all these advantages, the route was more obscure, and, therefore,

safer for me. I now pursued my course the remainder of the night

with renewed courage and strength, although so very lame, foot

sore, and so much exhausted that, in lying down to refresh myself,

I could not again rise and put myself in motion short of

extraordinary and repeated exertion, sometimes having to crawl on

my hands and knees till I could get sufficiently limbered to arise

and walk, and frequently staggering and falling in the attempt.

At length the day began to dawn, and I must soon be under the

necessity of hiding in the thickets, or making deviations from the

road, in order to avoid discovery in passing the settlements. I,

therefore, wished to push my way with all speed while it was yet

too early for people to be stirring; but sleep now completely

overpowered me. As I was walking along the road I could scarcely

open my eyes for a moment to look my way for a few rods ahead, and

they would then close in sleep in spite of all my powers. I would

then proceed a few paces in my sleep till I stumbled, or till I had

need to take another look at the road before me; then I would open

my eyes and take one glance, and the lids would fall again as

powerless as if I had no life. In this way I walked on, alternately

sleeping and waking, till, I presume, I had more than fifty naps

without ceasing to walk; and each time I opened my eyes and came to

my senses I firmly resolved to keep them open and run no further

risk; but while this resolution was still passing in my mind sleep

would again steal over me, not exactly unawares, for I realized it

each time, but had no power to prevent it.

At length the twilight gave place to the full blaze of the morning;

the sons of the earth were again in motion; I therefore retired, like

the owl, to the thicket, and took a morning rest. When I awoke the

sun was high in the heavens, and, feeling somewhat refreshed, I arose

from the ground and wandered slow and solitary amid the wilds of oak,

interspersed with hazel and underwood--sometimes stopping to pick and

eat a few unripe blackberries, and sometimes resting beneath the shade

of a spreading tree.

I had now great hopes of having to pass but one more night in

the land of enemies, as I could easily reach a small town in the

course of the day, which was then only two or three miles distant;

and then, if I could by any means get on to the right track before

night, I would only have about eight or ten miles' travel for the

whole night, which would bring me to a small town on the

Mississippi. I wandered on amid the wilds, but at length about half

a mile of open plain or prairie intervened between me and the town.

To pass this in a public road, in open day, would be running a

great venture, and to wait for the cover of darkness would perhaps

keep me wandering another night, for the want of being started in

the right road from the town before me to the landing on the river.

I, therefore, concluded to venture across the plain, along the

public highway, in the day time, and should I be discovered I would

sell my life as dear as possible sooner than be taken back to

prison. I, therefore, walked boldly on. I had proceeded about to

the middle of the plain, when, on a sudden turn of the road, two

men appeared on horseback, each with a rifle on his shoulder. They

were then too near for me to retreat, or to make any other shift

than to meet them. As soon as they discovered me they both halted

as if surprised, and one said to the other, "there he is now." They

then rode on towards me, and I expected every moment that they

would hail and attempt to stop me. In such a case I felt determined

to seize one of their rifles, and overpower or frighten them, or

die in the struggle.

I at length passed between them in the middle of the road, and I

looked as calm and unconcerned as if I hardly knew they were there.

Either from this circumstance or some other, unaccountable to me, they

never spoke to me at all, but rode on, and I saw them no more. I soon

passed the plain, and made my way into a small thicket of trees which

lay adjoining the little town. I then crept up near the court house,

which occupied a public square in the centre, and endeavored, without

being discovered or noticed by any person, to ascertain as well as I

could, by my own judgment, which of all the roads would seem to lead

off towards the river. After reconnoitering the town and the various

bearings of the roads, I retreated back into the wilderness, with

the satisfaction that I had not yet been discovered by the citizens;

I had also the satisfaction of seeing the highlands and the hilly,

broken country which evidently bordered on the Mississippi. The river,

therefore, could be but a few miles distant, and as it was yet several

hours to sundown I concluded that I could take my course, and, without

any particular regard to roads, reach some spot on the river that

evening, as nothing was to be so much dreaded as a public ferry--for

there I knew my enemies would set their traps.

I immediately took my course, and after wandering for an hour or

two, with great fatigue, among thickets of brush, briars and vines

almost impassable, I at length descended a steep decline of perhaps

two hundred feet, and then came down to what is called in that

country the "river bottom," covered with the growth of thick

forest, and appearing in some places somewhat swampy and gloomy;

but still I pushed on with all speed supposing I was not many miles

from the river Mississippi. After travelling for some distance in

this disagreeable and swampy wild, what was my surprise and

disappointment, when on a sudden I came to a dark, deep, and muddy

looking river, some forty rods wide, and rolling with a swift and

turbulent current. This surely could not be the Mississippi; and

yet it was something that intervened between me and that great

river, and seemed to present an impassable barrier. I then heaved a

deep sigh, and feeling exhausted and almost discouraged, I

exclaimed to myself half aloud, how long shall I wander and find no

rest? It does seem as though enchanted ground lay between me and

liberty. I turned round, with the little strength that then

remained I made my way back to the town. When I arrived again in

sight of the town the sun was setting, and another wearisome night

was approaching, in which I must reach the river, or I would

probably be exhausted with hunger and fatigue, so as to be entirely

disabled.

I now resolved to venture boldly into a public highway, and to

ascertain the right road before it would be too dark to find my way

or choose my course. There would not only be danger of exposure by

inquiring, but although I knew there was a little town on the

Mississippi, near the place I was then in, yet I had never heard

the name of it; and to appear like a stranger who did not know the

country, and yet be on foot and without a parcel or valise, or

anything which travellers are accustomed to carry, and withal a

beard near a week old, together with sweat and dirt over my clothes

from lying and tumbling on the ground, would altogether make me

seem like a very suspicious character; but yet I must venture an

inquiry, which I determined to do the first providential

opportunity which occurred. I walked along the edge of the town and

struck into a public highway which seemed to lead the right course.

I had not travelled far when I came to a branch of the same river

which I had encountered in the swampy bottom. On one side of the

road a mill was situated on its bank, and on the other side a

dwelling house. Several persons were about the mill, and it was not

yet dark. I was now determined to pass by boldly, and if anyone

passed near me to speak to them and inquire the way, and then pass

on so quick that they would have no time to have suspicion or to

question me. Just as I was passing between the house and the mill,

I said, "Good evening, sir. How do you cross this river?" He

replied, "that the teams and horsemen ford it, but a footman may

chance to cross it on the mill dam, yonder." Said I, "is this the

right road to--to--what the plague is it you call that little town

yonder--your nearest landing on the river what is its name; I can

seldom think of it?" "Oh, Saverton--Saverton," replied he. "Oh,

yes; Saverton," I repeated. "Yes," said he, "this is the direct

road to it." I replied, "Thank you, sir. How far is it?" "Nine

miles," said he. By this time I was some distance past him, and in

another moment I was balancing my clumsy and worn out body on the

edge of the dam, while the waters were roaring and foaming beneath

me.

I got safely over, and now pursued my way with increasing hope

and certainty. However, I had not gone to exceed half a mile before

I came to another fork of the river, larger and swifter than the

one I had just crossed, and, withal, neither dam nor bridge. I soon

forded boldly into it, determined either to sink, swim, or ford it.

It proved to be about a yard deep, with a strong current, and

several yards wide; but I forded it in safety, and still pursued my

way. After wandering for a mile or two along the bottom lands, I

ascended a high bluff of several hundred feet, and thus entered

upon the high, rocky and unsettled wilds which intervened between

the bed of the river and the great Mississippi.

It was now dark, and I was fairly under way for my night's

journey, which at most could not exceed seven or eight miles, and

feeling extremely exhausted and also at leisure, I stepped aside

from the road and laid me down at the foot of a tree, with a block

of wood for a pillow, where I intended to sleep for an hour or two.

It was a wild scene in which to slumber; no human abode was near,

no voice or sound stole upon the stillness of the evening. The

stars shone forth in unwonted splendor in the heavens, while wild

and grassy hills, and rocky steeps pierced with deep vales and

chasms, extended far and wide on all sides, as if reposing in

eternal and undisturbed quiet and loneliness. Ah! thought I, as I

lay in silent meditation and contemplated the scene, here is peace,

here is rest, here is a solitude of grand and sacred repose,

scarcely polluted by bloodthirsty dwellers upon the degraded earth.

And were it not for the ties of wife, children, and duties which

bind me to society, how gladly would I seek a lone cavern or some

unknown retreat amid these romantic wilds, and never more feel the

ills and suffer the evils which now distract and disturb the peace

of a poor, miserable world. As I had finished these meditations and

was about to fall asleep I turned to my side and made a slight

movement in adjusting my wooden pillow, when I heard the well known

rattle of a rattlesnake (eez, eez, eez,) close by my side, as if

disturbed in his repose, or as if I had more than my portion of the

bed. I then recollected the old proverb, that "travelling makes

strange bedfellows," and also the scripture which says, "If two lie

together there is heat, but how can one be warm alone?" Said I,

"old friend, I'll not argue with you as my first mother did with

your venerable ancestor, and rather than quarrel or keep you awake,

we will part." With this, I arose and very condescendingly sought

out another bed, where I was so fortunate as to remain in

undisturbed possession till the chill of the night air admonished

me to be again on the move.

I then arose, and, after much exertion, became at length able to

use my limbs, and thus continued my journey. Early dawn found me

standing on a height which overlooks the little village of Saverton

and the broad river, which was the only barrier between me and

safety from my enemies. As the rays of the morning began to expand

with increasing light, the dark outlines of the wooded bottoms of

Illinois were distinctly visible. I had now seen with my eyes the

land of peace, and a land which contained family, friends, and all

that was dear to me; but oh, if I should be intercepted at the

ferry, and thus lose at once my labor and my hope! I now knelt down

and prayed fervently to God for deliverance, and thanked Him for

the past, and for His mercy and providence which had preserved me

thus far.

I then descended from the height and entered the town, the

people yet being rapt in repose. I examined the shore and soon

convinced myself that no public ferry was kept there. I was

extremely glad to learn this fact being fully aware that by this

time all the ferries would be watched. I next tried to find some

road or path up the river bank, so as to pass along and obtain the

use of some chance canoe, but this was impossible. Huge rocks and

mountainous steeps, with alternate ditches or patches of mire,

rendered it impossible, even for a footman, to pass up the bank of

the river. I then made my way down along the sandy beach which lay

before the town, and just as the people were beginning to stir, I

left the town and continued down along the river for some five

miles, sometimes climbing steep and rocky spires of the bluffs, and

sometimes wading through mire and marsh.

At length I came to a dwelling on the banks of the river, and

saw several canoes lying in the water before it. I entered the

house and inquired of the lady whether I could get a passage over

the river in a canoe. She replied that her husband sometimes set

people across, but owing to the swift current, and a large island

several miles in length, which lay the middle of the river, it was

a tedious job, for which he never charged less than a dollar; but,

however, he was very busy in the harvest field, about a mile

distant, and owing to the hurry of the harvest, she did not think

he could be prevailed on to do it at any price. I was now ready to

faint from extreme heat, and exertion, and hunger, and to walk

another mile and back upon an uncertainty was altogether to which

it would subject me.

I cast my eyes towards the canoes and they looked very tempting,

and I know not but I might have been tempted to charter one without

the leave of the owner, but just then I saw a boy of ten or twelve

years of age playing about the water. I asked him if he was

accustomed to paddling a canoe. He replied, yes. I then offered him

a good price if he would set me across the river. He refused to do

this, saying that his parents would whip him for so doing. But,

said he, "I will set you over on to yon big island, which is one

mile from here; you can then walk a mile or two through the woods

and come to the opposite shore of it, and then shout and make signs

to the people on the Illinois shore, who will come across their

half of the river and take you from the island." He observed that

people had often crossed over in this way. I hardly believed him,

but still I thought an uninhabited island was preferable to staying

another minute in Missouri.

The boy soon set me over and left me on the shore of the island,

pointing out my course as well as he could. I paid him well, and then

commenced my overland journey, among nettles, flies, mosquitoes and

heat. I was soon entangled in thickets of hazel, thorn and grape vines,

which made my progress very slow, as well as extremely laborious and

difficult. These, however, were soon intersected with sloughs of mire

and water, which could only be crossed with the utmost difficulty, by

picking my way on old logs and wood, and sometimes wading in mire and

water. After crossing several of these I at length came to one much

larger, which I judged was navigable for a steamboat, and I now found,

to my inexpressible horror and disappointment, that he had deceived me.

I had now no alternative left but to make my way back through the same

difficulties I had just passed, and to the shore where he had just left

me, and then I should have no other chance but to call and make signs

to the Missouri shore, which I had just left with so much joy, and,

as I hoped, forever. This was at length accomplished, and I had the

inexpressible joy of seeing my sign answered by the same boy, who soon

came paddling to me. As soon as his canoe touched the island I bounded

into it, and said to him with a determined tone and manner, "you have

deceived me my boy, so now you have to go to the opposite shore if you

never went before, and I will then pay you another dollar, which will

pay you, even if your parents chasten you for going." We now headed up

the current, and, after a painful and laborious exertion of an hour or

two, we doubled the cape at the head of the island, and shot off across

the river at a rapid rate.

We soon landed in the woods in a low bottom, with no signs of

inhabitants, although while crossing I had seen some houses on the

shore a mile or two below. I now paid the boy his dollar, and he

pushed off and commenced his way back exceedingly well pleased. I

immediately stepped a few paces into the woods, and, kneeling down,

kissed the ground as a land of liberty, and then poured out my soul

in thanks to God. I then arose and made my way down the river for

some two miles through woods and swamps, and finally came to a

house. I entered it, determined to call for something to eat; no

one was in but a little boy, but he said his mother would be in two

or three minutes. I asked him for some milk, and he gave me a

vessel which was full, probably containing between one and two

quarts. I intended only to taste of it to keep me from fainting,

and then wait till the woman came, and ask her leave to drink the

remainder, as it was all she had; but once to my famishing mouth it

never ceased to decrease till it was all swallowed; I now felt

somewhat abashed and mortified at what I had done, but concluded

money would pay all damages. Hearing the footsteps of the woman at

the door, I was fixing my mouth for an awkward apology, when I

heard a sudden scream; on looking up, Mrs. Sabery Granger stood

before me, with both hands lifted up in an ecstacy of amazement. I

said to her, "be not afraid--handle me and see, for a spirit hath

not flesh and bones as you see me have." She exclaimed, "why, good

Lord, is that you? Why all the world is hunting you--both friends

and enemies; they had almost given you up." She then flew around,

scolded the children, talked to the ducks and chickens to keep out

of the house and out of the garden, and not stray off. She washed

my feet, gave me some clean stockings, got me some dinner, told me

a thousand things about our friends, asked five hundred questions,

laughed, cried and again scolded the children and chickens.

This over and dinner eaten, she on with her bonnet and

accompanied me to her husband, who was clearing a small spot of

land nearby. (I had forgotten to say that this woman had been one

of our nearest neighbors in Ohio for several years.) Her husband

now dropped his work, and accompanied me as a guide for five miles

across a wet, low, untimbered bottom, covered mostly with high

grass and stagnant water, and entirely destitute of shade or

refreshment of any kind. The air was now extremely sultry, and the

sun poured in scorching beams, while we could get no water to

drink, nor any rest or retreat for a moment. To sit down the tall

grass under these scorching rays, without a breath of wind, would

be overwhelming.

I had not proceeded more than a mile or two before I became so

weak and faint that I could hardly speak or stand, and parched with

a burning thirst. I was upon the point of lying down in the hot and

stagnant water, but he took me by the arm and partly supported me,

and drew me along for some distance, exhorting and begging of me to

try my utmost to hold up a little longer. In this way I finally

reached the upland and the shade of a fence, within about half a

mile of a settlement of the Saints and other citizens, which

extended along the bluff. I dropped down under the shade of this

fence, and fainted entirely away; the man ran to the house of a

Brother Brown and got some cool spring water and a little camphor,

and was returning with it Sister Brown, who had never seen me, came

running before him to my relief; while they were yet distant I had

partly come to, and feeling a dreadful faintness at my stomach, and

a raging thirst which knew no bounds, I made an effort to arise and

run towards them, at the same time making signs for them to hasten;

I staggered a few paces like a drunken man, and again fell to the

earth. This singular appearance, and my dirty clothes and long

beard so frightened the woman that, instead of hurrying, she halted

till the man came up with her, and then she exclaimed, "It cannot

be Elder Pratt, of whom I have heard so much--it must be some old

drunkard." But the man assured her it was me, and they then came on

together. They bathed my temples and wrists in cold water and

camphor, and finally gave me a spoonful or two at a time to drink.

In about half an hour I was so far revived as to be able to arise

and be led to the house. I then shaved and washed myself, and

borrowed a change of linen, and got into a comfortable bed.

Next morning I felt quite refreshed, and, after resting through

the day, I was so far recruited as to be able to mount a horse at

evening and ride towards Quincy, which was still twenty-five miles

distant. Brother Brown furnished me a good horse and saddle, and

himself another, and we started for Quincy in high spirits just as

the sun was setting. We rode on at a brisk rate, and arrived in

Quincy at about two o'clock the next morning. Riding up to the

dwelling which (from the partial recollection of Mr. Brown, as well

as from the fact of my two Missouri cows lying before it quietly

chewing their cud) we judged was my wife's residence, we dismounted

and gave a gentle knock at the door. She had watched for four

successive nights and most of the fifth, and had now just lain down

and given up all for lost. On hearing the knock she sprang from bed

and opened the door, and in another instant I had clasped her in my

arms.

CHAPTER XXXV.

------------------------

Opinions of the Press:--Extracts from the "Columbia Patriot:"--"Banner

of Liberty:"--"Boone's Lick Democrat:"--"Saturday News:"--"Missouri

Republican:"--"New York Sun:"--"Quincy Argus:"--Minutes of a Public

Meeting in Quincy:--"New York Commercial Advertiser:"--Public Meeting

in New York:--Closing Remarks.

Extract of a letter from A. W. Turner, member of the Legislature

of Missouri, dated City of Jefferson, November 31st, 1838,

originally published in the _Columbia_ (Missouri) _Patriot

"The Mormon war is the most exciting subject before the

Legislature or the community; it involves an inquiry the most

critical of any ever presented to the Legislature of this country;

one in which the rights of a portion of the free citizens of the

State is concerned, on the one side, and the rights of another

portion of the same citizens on the other. Upon the decision of

this subject the character of the State is suspended. If, upon full

investigation, it is found (and reported by the committee to the

Legislature) that the Mormons are not the aggressors, and that some

of them have been murdered, others driven from the State by

military force, and others imprisoned by order of the Executive,

then our character will be established as the most lawless invaders

of religious and civil rights."

Will the public believe that, with the foregoing view of the

subject, the Legislature avoided an investigation? The following is

from a Missouri paper, printed in Callaway County, entitled _The

Banner of Liberty_:

"The Governor of Missouri has negotiated a State loan with the

Bank of Missouri, of three hundred and forty thousand dollars. Of

this sum, two hundred thousand dollars are to go towards paying the

expense of the troops called out to _drive the Mormons from the

State_."

The following is taken from the _Boone's Lick Democrat_,

a Missouri paper, under date of January 9, 1839:

"A letter under date of the 29th of November, 1838, has been

written by Michael Arthur, of Clay County, to the delegation from

that county in the General Assembly now in session, from which the

following is an extract: 'Humanity to an injured people prompts me

at present to address you this.'

"'You were aware of the treatment to some extent before you left

home, received by that unfortunate race of beings called Mormons,

from devils in the form of human beings; inhabiting Daviess,

Livingston and part of Ray Counties.

"'Not being satisfied with a relinquishment of their rights, as

citizens and human beings, in the treaty forced upon them by

General Lucas, of giving up their arms and throwing themselves upon

the mercy of the State and their fellow citizens generally (hoping

thereby to gain protection of their lives and property); they are

now receiving treatment from those demons which makes humanity

shudder, and the cold chills run over any man not entirely

destitute of humanity.

"'These demons are now strolling up and down Caldwell County in

small companies armed, insulting the women in any and every way,

and plundering the Mormons of all the means of sustenance (scanty

as it was) left them, driving off their cattle, horses, hogs, etc.,

and rifling their houses and farms of everything thereon; taking

beds, bedding, wardrobes, and such things as they see they

want--leaving the Mormons in a starving and naked condition. These

are facts I have from authority that cannot be questioned, and can

be maintained and substantiated at any time.'"

The following appeared in the St. Louis (Mo.) _Saturday News

_. The reader may draw his own contrast between the two

statements:

"THE MORMONS:--That self-afflicted class of people who has

chosen the fancy name of Mormons has elicited some sympathy and

well intended compassion from some of our charitable citizens, and

two meetings have been called to devise means of relieving their

present wants. Although many of the Mormons deserve hanging, as an

atonement for their criminal proceedings and corrupt intentions,

they are truly objects of charity.

"But if this intrinsically vagrant race (the Mormons) would

relieve themselves from the humiliating necessity of asking

charity, they should mind their own business, * * abandon

abolition, and apply themselves to hard labor, as those do who are

actively engaged in attempting their relief.

"No attempt should be made to retain a single Mormon within the

boundaries of Missouri. A colonization society might find

advantageous employment in sending them all off to Botany Bay."

The following resolves were adopted at a public meeting of the

people of Daviess County, Missouri, and published in one of the

journals of the State:

"1st. _Resolved_, That we esteem the laws of our country

our great bulwark, and the only safe refuge to protect us in this

and every other emergency.

"2d. _Resolved_, That we highly approve of the course of

the Executive in placing Gen. Clark in command of the forces

ordered out AGAINST THE MORMONS, and that his orders to EXTERMINATE

AND DRIVE THEM FROM THE STATE was dictated by the imperious duty of

his office as Governor of the State.

"The following is from the _Missouri Republican_,

published at St. Louis:

"To show our readers the amount of injury which is now inflicted

on the character of our State, and which there is no means of

repelling (the Legislature having refused to inquire into the

matter), we copy the following from the proceedings of a public

meeting held in Quincy, Illinois, as published in the _Quincy

Whig_ of the 2d. inst:

"'Mr. Sidney Rigdon rose and read the memorial which his people

had presented to the Legislature of Missouri, and other documents,

going to show the absence of all law and justice in the course the

Missouri authorities had pursued toward them, from Governor Boggs

down to the lowest grade of officers.'"

"After another had addressed the meeting the same account says:

'Mr. Rigdon again took the floor, and in a very eloquent and

impressive manner related the trials, sufferings and persecutions

which his people have met with at the hands of the people of

Missouri. We saw the tears standing in the eyes of many of his

people while he was recounting their history of woe and sorrow,

and, in fact, the gentleman himself was so agitated at different

periods of his address that his feelings would hardly allow him to

proceed.'

"We are satisfied that his address will have a lasting and good

effect, sustained, as it was, by the public documents which he

produced.

"'We will not attempt to follow him through the cold blooded

murder, by the mob of Missouri, of Mormon men and children, the

violation of females, the destroying of property, the burning of

houses, etc.

"In vain may the press in Missouri protest against these

representations. In vain may we declare that Rigdon and his

followers were doing injustice, misrepresenting and slandering our

people, their institutions and officers, etc., the public abroad

will judge us by the course of our Legislature. We have made our

bed and must lie down on it.

"A friend, residing in Lafayette County, a few days since called

our attention to reports in circulation in New York seriously

affecting the character of the State, growing out of this subject,

and requesting us to contradict them. Most cheerfully would we

undertake the task, but we know it is hopeless."

The following is from the New York _Sun_. After giving

some extracts from St. Louis papers, showing the outrages of the

people of Missouri against the Mormons, the editor proceeds thus:

"That Captain Bogart must be very much like a blackguard and a

coward, if he is not a decided candidate for both titles. He was

one of those who started the horrible stories of the 'cutting up of

Missourians, fifty at a hatch, by the Mormons.' Probably he ran

away from his company, and imagined the horrible stories he

carried. The shooting down of a flag staff bearing a flag of truce

is characteristic of the bravery of a coward, when backed by 3,000

men against 700.

"They must have a primitive mode of administering justice in

Missouri. These Mormons are as much citizens as the others, and

yet, without trial, upon the _ex parte_ testimony of the

persons who had provoked the Mormons to retaliation, the Governor

issues orders, if we understand the case, for the expulsion of the

Mormons from the State of Missouri.

"The Emperor of Russia, the Shah of Persia, or the Sultan of

Turkey could not embrace in his own person more legislative,

judicial and executive power than is here assumed. Legislative, in

the enactment and promulgation of an edict of banishment.

Judicial--extra judicial--in sentencing them to banishment under

it. Executive, in summoning the force of the State to put in force

his own judgment upon his own edict. Well done, Governor Boggs!

"We are sorry to hear of the massacre of the Mormons by the

armed mob; however, this violence, being the natural promptings of

infuriated men, is positively less culpable than the cool ignorance

and impudent, illegal assumption of the Governor of Missouri."

From the Quincy (Ill.) _Argus_, March 16, 1839:

"We give in today's paper the details of the recent bloody

tragedy acted in Missouri--the details of a scene of terror and

blood unparalleled in the annals of modern, and, under the

circumstances of the case, in ancient history; a tragedy of so deep

and fearful, and absorbing interest that the very life blood of the

heart is chilled at the simple contemplation. We are prompted to

ask ourselves if it be really _true_ that we are living in

an enlightened, a humane and civilized age, in an age and quarter

of the world boasting of its progress in everything good and great,

honorable, virtuous and high minded; in a country, of which, as

American citizens, we could ask whether we are living under a

Constitution and laws, or have not rather returned to the ruthless

times of the stern Atilla--to the times of the fiery Hun--when the

sword and flame ravaged the fair fields of Italy and Europe, and

the darkest passions held full revel in all the revolting scenes of

unchecked brutality and unbridled desire?

"We have no language sufficiently strong for the expression of

our indignation and shame at the recent transaction in a sister

state, and that state _Missouri_, a state of which we had

long been proud, alike for her men and history, but now so

_fallen_, that we could wish her star stricken out from the

bright constellation of the Union. We say we know of no language

sufficiently strong for the expression of our shame and abhorrence

of her recent conduct. She has written her own character in letters

of blood, and stained it by acts of merciless cruelty and brutality

that the waters of ages cannot efface. It will be observed that an

organized mob, aided by many of the civil and military officers of

Missouri, with Governor Boggs at their head, have been the

prominent actors in this business, incited too, it appears, against

the Mormons by political hatred, and by the additional motives of

plunder and revenge. They have but too well put in execution their

threats of extermination and expulsion, and fully wreaked their

vengeance on a body of industrious and enterprising men, who had

never wronged or wished to wrong them, but, on the contrary, had

ever comported themselves as good and honest citizens, living under

the laws and having the same rights with themselves, _to the

sacred immunities of life, liberty and property._"

"PUBLIC MEETING:

_"Wednesday, Feb. 27, 1839_, 6 P.M.

"The members of the Democratic Association, and the citizens of

Quincy generally, assembled in the court house, to take into

consideration the state and condition of the people called 'The

Latter-day Saints,' and organized the meeting by appointing Gen.

Leach, chairman, and James D. Morgan, secretary.

"Mr. Whitney, from the committee appointed at a former meeting,

submitted the following report:

"The select committee, to whom the subject was referred, of

inquiring into and reporting the situation of the persons who have

recently arrived from Missouri; and whether their circumstances are

such that they would need the aid of the citizens of Quincy and its

vicinity, to be guided by what they might deem the principles of an

expanded benevolence, have attended to the duties assigned them,

and have concluded on the following:

REPORT:

"The committee believe that their duties at this time and on

this occasion, are all included within the limits of an expanded

benevolence and humanity, and which are guided by that charity

which 'never faileth.' From the facts already disclosed,

independent of the statement furnished by the committee, they feel

it their duty to recommend to this association that they adopt the

following resolutions:

"_Resolved_, That the strangers recently arrived here

from the state of Missouri, known by the name of The Latter-day

Saints, are entitled to our sympathy and kindest regard; and that

we recommend to the citizens of Quincy to extend to them all the

kindness in their power to bestow, as to persons who are in

affliction. * * *

"_Resolved_, That the committee last aforesaid be

instructed to use their utmost endeavors to obtain employment for

all these people who are able and willing to labor; and also to

afford them all needful, suitable and proper encouragement. * * *

"All of which is submitted.

"J. W. WHITNEY, _Chairman_.

"QUINCY, _February 27, 1839_.

"Mr. Rigdon then made a statement of the wrongs received by

Mormons from a portion of the people of Missouri, and of their

present suffering condition.

"On motion of Mr. Bushnell the report and resolutions were laid

upon the table till to-morrow evening.

"On motion of Mr. Bushnell, the meeting adjourned to meet at

this place on tomorrow evening at seven o'clock."

"Thursday evening, Feb. 28.

"Met, pursuant to adjournment.

"The meeting was called to order by the chairman.

"On motion of Mr. Morris, a committee of three was appointed to

take up a collection; Messrs. J. T. Holmes, Whitney and Morris were

appointed.

"The committee subsequently reported that $48.25 cents had been

collected.

"On motion the amount was paid over to the committee on behalf

of the Mormons.

"On motion of Mr. Holmes, a committee of three, consisting of S.

Holmes, Bushnell and Morris, was appointed to draw up subscription

papers and circulate them among the citizens, for the purpose of

receiving contributions in clothing and provisions.

"On motion, six were added to that committee.

"On motion of J. T. Holmes, J. D. Morgan was appointed a

committee to wait on the Quincy Grays, for the purpose of receiving

subscriptions.

"Mr. Morgan subsequently reported that $20 had been subscribed,

by that company.

"The following resolutions were then offered by J. T. Holmes:

"_Resolved_, That we regard the rights of conscience as

natural and inalienable, and the most sacred guaranteed by the

Constitution of our free Government.

"_Resolved_, That we regard the acts of all mobs as

flagrant violations of law, and those who compose them individually

responsible, both to the laws of God and man, for every depredation

committed upon the property, rights, or life of any citizen.

"_Resolved_, That the inhabitants upon the western

frontier of the state of Missouri, in their late persecutions of

the class of people denominated Mormons, have violated the sacred

rights of conscience, and every law of justice and humanity.

"_Resolved_, That the Governor of Missouri in refusing

protection to this class of people, when pressed upon by a

heartless mob, and turning upon them a band of unprincipled

militia, with orders encouraging their extermination, has brought a

lasting disgrace upon the State over which he presides.

"The resolutions were supported in a spirited manner by Messrs.

Holmes, Morris and Whitney.

"On motion, the resolutions were adopted.

"On motion, the meeting then adjourned.

"SAMUEL LEACH, _Chairman_.

"J. D. MORGAN, _Secretary_."

From the New York _Commercial Advertiser_.

"MEETING IN BEHALF OF THE MORMONS.

"Last evening, pursuant to public notice, a large meeting

assembled at National Hall, to listen to the recital of the wrongs

and sufferings of the Mormons, and to devise means for the relief

of their women and children.

"The meeting was organized by placing Mr. Charles King in the

chair, and Mr. Marcus Spring as Secretary. The Chairman having

briefly stated the object of the meeting, and read the circular

letter signed by Governor Carlin, of Illinois; Senator Young, from

that State, and other residents, vouching for the trustworthiness

of Mr. Green, who is deputed by this people to make their case

known to the country, the Chairman introduced Mr. Green to the

meeting.

"Mr. Green proceeded to give a plain, unadorned, and, as is

believed, unexaggerated narrative of the settlement of the Mormons

in Missouri, of the constant outrages to which they were subjected,

and the series of persecutions which were only ended by their

forcible expulsion from the State; and the surrender, without

compensation, of the lands and houses they had acquired by their

own money, or built with their own hands.

"Mr. Green was himself an actor and witness in many of the

scenes he described, and he related them without any attempt at

ornament or appeal to passion.

"When Mr. Green took his seat, Joseph Blunt, Esq., addressed the

meeting with ability and great effect, and offered the resolutions

that will be found below. He was eloquently followed and seconded

by Hiram Ketchum, Esq. The resolutions were further supported by

several speakers, among whom were Dr. D. M. Reese and W. L. Stone,

Esq.; when the question was taken on them separately, and they were

carried almost without a dissenting voice.

"Upon a suggestion from the Chair, that as the wants of the

sufferers were urgent, good might arise from some immediate

contributions--a mechanic in his working jacket stood up, saying

that having often witnessed the good effects of example on such

occasions, he proposed, although, as he added, the sum he could

give was humble, if nine others would do likewise, to give five

dollars, and immediately walked up to the table and deposited the

money. The challenge was accepted by several others, and a sum

exceeding fifty dollars was collected on the spot.

"The meeting then adjourned, it being understood that, the

committee named to receive and distribute contributions would at

once enter upon their duties.

"_Resolved_, That as Americans, we have heard with shame

and indignation the narrative given by Mr. Green of the

persecutions, sufferings and lawless violence of which a body of

American citizens have been the subjects and the victims, for no

other apparent cause than that without hinderance to others, or

violation of any law of the land, they had acted upon the right

guaranteed them by the Constitution of the United States of a free

exercise of religion.

"_Resolved_, That, without meaning to express any opinion

whatever as to the religious views or practices of the Mormons as a

sect, we condemn and desire to bear our testimony against mob law,

lynch law and all other forms of outrage and violence where an

excited populace becomes at once jury, judge and executioner.

"_Resolved_, That the Mormons, as wronged, persecuted,

exiled and defrauded Americans, are entitled to the sympathy and

support of their countrymen; and that especially in behalf of the

women and children, driven from their homes at the point of the

bayonet, we appeal to the known benevolence of our fellow citizens

at large for pecuniary aid.

"_Resolved_, That the Chairman and Secretary be a

committee, with power to add to their numbers, to obtain

subscriptions in aid of the women and children of the Mormons; such

subscriptions to be applied after due investigation by the

committee themselves.

"_Resolved_, That these resolutions be signed by the

Chairman and Secretary, and published in the newspapers.

"CHARLES KING, _Chairman_.

"MARCUS SPRING, _Secretary_."

From the foregoing numerous extracts the public can see that my

horrible tale of woe is not a fiction; but an awful reality. I

might fill a volume with similar quotations from the public

journals of every part of the Union, but I forbear, with the full

conviction that the foregoing are sufficient to show that an

impartial public, who stand entirely unconnected with our Society,

as religionists, bear out my narrative in its awful tale of woe and

suffering; and I now submit the subject to the perusal of all

people, willing to meet my statements in the foregoing at the bar

of Him who knows all secret things, and who judges righteously.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

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Congratulations:--Remove to Nauvoo:--Meet with President Smith

and Other Fellow Sufferers:--President Smith's Reproof for the

Elders:--Toils:--Start for England:--Arrival in Detroit:--Visit my

Brother Anson and Parents:--Arrive in New York:--Visit Philadelphia

and Washington:--Meet President Smith:--Great Meeting:--Preaching

by S. Rigdon and President Smith:--Success in New York:--Farewell

Song:--Sail for England:--Reflections.

Being once more at liberty, and in the enjoyment of the society

of family and friends, I spent a few days in rest and refreshment,

and in receiving the congratulations of my friends and fellow

citizens. My house was thronged from day to day, not only with my

old acquaintances and fellow exiles, but with strangers of every

sect and party, all anxious to see a martyr, as it were, who had

been so wonderfully and miraculously delivered from bondage and

death in their most terrible forms.

After a few days spent in this way, we removed to Nauvoo, a new

town, about fifty miles above Quincy. Here lived President Joseph

Smith and many of the refugees who had survived the storm of

persecution in Missouri. It had been already appointed as a

gathering place for the scattered Saints, and many families were on

the ground, living in the open air, or under the shade of trees,

tents, wagons, etc, while others occupied a few old buildings,

which they had purchased or rented. Others, again, were living in

some old log buildings on the opposite side of the Mississippi, at

a place called Montrose, and which had formerly served the purpose

of barracks for soldiers.

The hardships and exposures consequent on the persecutions,

caused a general sickness. Here and there, and in every place, a

majority of the people were prostrated with malignant fevers,

agues, etc.

When we first arrived we lived in the open air, with out any

other shelter whatever. Here I met brother Joseph Smith, from whom

I had been separated since the close of the mock trial in Richmond

the year previous. Neither of us could refrain from tears as we

embraced each other once more as free men. We felt like shouting

hosannah in the highest, and giving glory to that God who had

delivered us in fulfilment of His word to His servant Joseph the

previous autumn, when we were being carried into captivity in

Jackson County, Missouri. He blessed me with a warmth of sympathy

and brotherly kindness which I shall never forget. Here also I met

with Hyrum Smith and many others of my fellow prisoners with a glow

of mutual joy and satisfaction which language will never reveal.

Father and Mother Smith, the parents of our Prophet and President,

were also overwhelmed with tears of joy and congratulation; they

wept like children as they took me by the hand; but, O, how

different from the tears of bitter sorrow which were pouring down

their cheeks as they gave us the parting hand in Far West, and saw

us dragged away by fiends in human form.

After the gush of feelings consequent on our happy meeting had

subsided, I accompanied Joseph Smith over the Mississippi in a

skiff to visit some friends in Montrose. Here many were lying sick

and at the point of death. Among these was my old friend and fellow

servant, Elijah Fordham, who had been with me in that extraordinary

work in New York City in 1837. He was now in the last stage of a

deadly fever. He lay prostrate and nearly speechless, with his feet

poulticed; his eyes were sunk in their sockets; his flesh was gone;

the paleness of death was upon him; and he was hardly to be

distinguished from a corpse. His wife was weeping over him, and

preparing clothes for his burial.

Brother Joseph took him by the hand, and in a voice and energy

which would seemingly have raised the dead, he cried: "BROTHER

FORDHAM, IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST, ARISE AND WALK." It was a

voice which could be heard from house to house and nearly through

the neighborhood. It was like the roaring of a lion, or the heavy

thunderbolt. Brother Fordham leaped from his dying bed in an

instant, shook the poultices and bandages from his feet, put on his

clothes so quick that none got a chance to assist him, and taking a

cup of tea and a little refreshment, he walked with us from house

to house visiting other sick beds, and joining in prayer and

ministrations for them, while the people followed us, and with joy

and amazement gave glory to God. Several more were called up in a

similar manner and were healed.

Brother Joseph, while in the Spirit, rebuked the Elders who

would continue to lay hands on the sick from day to day without the

power to heal them. Said he: "It is time that such things ended.

_Let the Elders either obtain the power of God to heal the sick

or let them cease to minister the forms without the power_."

After these things I joined with brother Kimball in purchasing

some land in the contemplated city of Nauvoo, which was then a

wilderness and both of us went to work together with our own hands

to build us a log house each. After toiling a few days in this

manner I sold out my improvement and prepared for a mission to

England, as our quorum were now appointed to visit that country.

On the 29th of August, 1839, I took leave of my friends in

Nauvoo and started for a foreign land. I was accompanied by my wife

and three children (having obtained my son Parley from his nurse,

Mrs. Allen), and Elders Orson Pratt and Hiram Clark. We journeyed

in our own private carriage, drawn by two horses. Our route lay

through the wild and but partially inhabited countries of Illinois,

Indiana and Michigan, for about five hundred and eighty miles, to

Detroit, the capital of the State of Michigan, situated at the head

of Lake Erie.

The first day we rode seventeen miles through a beautiful plain,

or prairie. Our route was a most delightful one.

On all sides, as we turned our eyes, we beheld a boundless field

of grass and flowers, with here and there a small grove of timber;

the landscape was level or diversified with gentle swells; the

surface smooth as a garden; the soil extremely rich; and, although

there was no road marked by art, yet our carriage rolled as

smoothly and easily as if it had been on a railway. Most of this

delightful prairie was without inhabitants, and could, probably,

have been purchased for one dollar and a quarter per acre.

It is well calculated for the purposes of agriculture, producing

in richest profusion, when cultivated, almost every kind of grain

and grass, and every vegetable suited for the climate.

After travelling seventeen miles through this delightful

scenery, we arrived in Carthage, a flourishing village. Here we

stopped for the night with a member of our Society, who received us

kindly; and at evening preached in a large court room to an

attentive audience. Next day we rode some twenty-five miles through

a similar country, and at evening arrived at a fine village called

Macomb. Here we were kindly entertained over Sabbath by a brother

Miller. We preached in the court house.

My brother Orson and brother Clark went still ahead about thirty

miles, where they preached on Sunday. On Monday morning we started

and rode thirty miles through a delightful country.

Sometimes we were in the midst of flourishing farms and villas,

and sometimes the wild deer would startle from their grazing at our

approach, and go bounding over the wild expanse till lost in the

distance.

In the evening we arrived at the house of my brother, Wm. Pratt,

where we found brothers Orson Pratt and Clark. We preached at a

neighboring house, which was crowded by an attentive congregation.

Next morning we rode eight miles to Canton, and found some Saints

who persuaded us to stay till morning. We consented; and in the

evening preached to the people who crowded the house and yard, and

who seemed very anxious to hear more.

Continuing our journey we came next day to Peoria, thirty miles;

a flourishing town on the Illinois River. Here we tarried with one

of the members of the Church, and were kindly entertained. Next day

made thirty miles, and, providentially, stopped for the night at

the house of the only member of our Society in that region. When he

learned who we were he welcomed us, and finally prevailed upon us

to stay two or three days, after which we blessed him and his

household and departed.

We then journeyed about thirty-three miles every day for four

weeks, and at length found ourselves within part of a day's journey

of Detroit. Here we found several small branches of the Church; and

being worn down with our journey, we tarried with them six days,

during which we ministered the gospel. Brother O. Pratt, in

particular, preached in several towns to large and attentive

audiences. Taking leave of the brethren, we rode to Detroit, where

I found my brother Anson Pratt and family; whom I had not seen for

many years, and also my aged father and mother, who were now living

with him. My father was now about seventy years of age, and was on

his death bed with a heavy fever. We tarried with them two weeks;

during which I preached in the City Hall at Detroit, and

superintended some printing and publishing matters.

While here we sold our horses and carriage, and at length took

leave of our kindred and a last farewell of our sick father, and

took passage on a steamboat down Lake Erie to Buffalo; distance

three hundred miles.

Previous to our departure from Detroit brothers O. Pratt and

Clark took leave of us, and passed down the lake into Ohio;

intending to meet us again at New York.

After landing safe in Buffalo, we took the Erie Canal and

railroad to Albany--distance three hundred and fifty miles; thence

to New York by steamer down the Hudson River--distance one hundred

and fifty miles. Here we arrived in safety after a journey of about

one thousand four hundred miles. We were received by the Saints in

New York almost as one of the old saints risen from the dead. I had

been absent nearly two years during which time I had lain eight

months in prison. Brother Adison Everett, a High Priest of the

Church in that city and one of the first members I had baptized

there, related to me that the Church in that city were assembled in

prayer for me on the evening of the 4th of July previous, that I

might be delivered from prison and from my enemies in Missouri.

When, on a sudden, the spirit of prophecy fell on him, and he arose

and declared to the Church that they might cease their prayers on

that subject; "For," said he, "_on this moment brother Parley

goes at liberty_."

We found the Church in New York strong in the faith, and

rejoicing in the truth. They had become numerous in the city and in

several parts of the country around.

In this city I resided with my family some six months, during

which I preached most of the time in the city, and also

superintended the printing and publishing of several of our books.

I also performed occasional missions in the country; I visited Long

Island, New Jersey, Philadelphia and the City of Washington. In the

latter place I published an address in a printed circular to each

member of Congress, and to the President of the United States and

his Cabinet, setting forth our principles in plainness, and bearing

testimony of the truth; while, at the same time, our petitions for

redress were pending before them--President Joseph Smith and others

having visited them in person, with an earnest appeal for

investigation and redress of our grievances in Missouri. In

Philadelphia I had the happiness of once more meeting with

President Smith, and of spending several days with him and others,

and with the Saints in that city and vicinity.

During these interviews he taught me many great and glorious

principles concerning God and the heavenly order of eternity. It

was at this time that I received from him the first idea of eternal

family organization, and the eternal union of the sexes in those

expressibly endearing relationships which none but the highly

intellectual, the refined and pure in heart, know how to prize, and

which are at the very foundation of everything worthy to be called

happiness.

Till then I had learned to esteem kindred affections and

sympathies as pertaining solely to this transitory state, as

something from which the heart must be entirely weaned, in order to

be fitted for its heavenly state.

It was Joseph Smith who taught me how to prize the endearing

relationships of father and mother, husband and wife; of brother

and sister, son and daughter.

It was from him that I learned that the wife of my bosom might

be secured to me for time and all eternity; and that the refined

sympathies and affections which endeared us to each other emanated

from the fountain of divine eternal love. It was from him that I

learned that we might cultivate these affections, and grow and

increase in the same to all eternity; while the result of our

endless union would be an offspring as numerous as the stars of

heaven, or the sands of the sea shore.

It was from him that I learned the true dignity and destiny of a

son of God, clothed with an eternal priesthood, as the patriarch

and sovereign of his countless offspring. It was from him that I

learned that the highest dignity of womanhood was, to stand as a

queen and priestess to her husband, and to reign for ever and ever

as the queen mother of her numerous and still increasing offspring.

I had loved before, but I knew not why. But now I loved--with a

pureness--an intensity of elevated, exalted feeling, which would

lift my soul from the transitory things of this grovelling sphere

and expand it as the ocean. I felt that God was my Heavenly Father

indeed; that Jesus was my brother, and that the wife of my bosom

was an immortal, eternal companion; a kind ministering angel, given

to me as a comfort, and a crown of glory for ever and ever. In

short, I could now love with the spirit and with the understanding

also.

Yet, at that time, my dearly beloved brother, Joseph Smith, had

barely touched a single key; had merely lifted a corner of the veil

and given me a single glance into eternity.

While visiting with brother Joseph in Philadelphia, a very large

church was opened for him to preach in, and about three thousand

people assembled to hear him. Brother Rigdon spoke first, and dwelt

on the Gospel, illustrating his doctrine by the Bible. When he was

through, brother Joseph arose like a lion about to roar; and being

full of the Holy Ghost, spoke in great power, bearing testimony of

the visions he had seen, the ministering of angels which he had

enjoyed; and how he had found the plates of the Book of Mormon, and

translated them by the gift and power of God. He commenced by

saying: "If nobody else had the courage to testify of so glorious a

message from Heaven, and of the finding of so glorious a record, he

felt to do it in justice to the people, and leave the event with

God."

The entire congregation was astounded; electrified, as it were,

and overwhelmed with the sense of the truth and power by which he

spoke, and the wonders which he related. A lasting impression was

made; many souls were gathered into the fold. And I bear witness,

that he, by his faithful and powerful testimony, cleared his

garments of their blood. Multitudes were baptized in Philadelphia

and in the regions around; while, at the same time, branches were

springing up in Pennsylvania, in Jersey, and in various directions.

Among the Elders who were instrumental in doing a good work in

those regions, I would make honorable mention of Benjamin

Winchester, of Philadelphia, since fallen from the faith; and

Lorenzo Barnes, who labored and did a great work in Chester County,

Penn., and afterwards laid down his life while on a mission in

England.

Soon after my arrival in New York City, Elders O. Pratt and

Clark who left us at Detroit, arrived, having performed a mission

through some of Ohio and New York. Elders Turley, John Taylor, and

Wilford Woodruff, had also arrived from the West on their way to

England. Brother Clark and two Elders soon sailed for Liverpool.

Brothers Taylor, Woodruff, and Turley, sailed a few weeks

afterwards. Brother O. Pratt labored in the country around New York

with good success.

Elders Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, George A. Smith, and R.

Hedlock, also arrived in New York City late in the winter, after

performing a long and important journey and mission through the

States of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and New York.

Finding ourselves together once more, after all our trials and

sufferings, we rejoiced exceedingly and praised God for all His

mercies to us. During the few days that we were together in New

York we held many precious meetings in which the Saints were filled

with joy, and the people more and more convinced of the truth of

our message. Near forty persons were baptized and added to the

Church in that city during the few days of our brethren's stay

there.

We held a general Conference, in the "Columbian Hall," previous

to our departure, in which the following song, composed by myself,

was written expressly for that occasion and sung by those present:

When shall we all meet again?

When shall we our rest obtain?

When our pilgrimage be o'er--

Parting sighs be known no more;

When Mount Zion we regain,

There may we all meet again,

We to foreign climes repair;

Truth, the message which we bear;

Truth, which angels oft have borne;

Truth to comfort those who mourn.

Truth eternal will remain,

On its rock we'll meet again.

Now the bright and morning star

Spreads its glorious light afar,

Kindles up the rising dawn

Of that bright Millennial morn;

When the Saints shall rise and reign,

Then may we all meet again.

When the sons of Israel come,

When they build Jerusalem;

When the house of God is reared,

And Messiah's way prepared;

When from Heaven he comes to reign,

In the clouds we'll meet again.

When the earth is cleansed by fire;

When the wicked's hopes expire;

When in cold oblivion's shade,

Proud oppressors all are laid;

Long will Zion's Mount remain,

There we all may meet again.

On the 9th of March, 1840, we embarked on board the ship

"Patrick Henry," for Liverpool, England. We were accompanied to the

water by my family, and by scores of the congregation, of both

sexes. We bade them farewell amid many tears, and taking a little

boat were soon on board ship--which lay at anchor a short distance

from the shore.

From there we could still see the crowd of our friends on the

shore, while a wave of their hats and handkerchiefs in the air bid

us a last adieu. At twelve o'clock we were under way, being towed

by a steamer for some distance until the sails were all unfurled

before a fair breeze. The steamer now bade us farewell with three

cheers, and we found ourselves fairly under way on the broad

expanse of ocean. The sun was soon setting behind a distant

promontory, which looked like a dark cloud on the bosom of the

ocean: while to the north the distant shores of Long Island were

still in view.

Next morning we found ourselves tossing upon a rough sea before

the wind with no land in sight. We had a rough passage of

twenty-eight days, and on the sixth of April landed in Liverpool,

England. Brother Kimball had been there before; but it was the

first time that the other brethren and myself had set our feet on

the shores of the old world.

We soon found brother Taylor, who had raised the standard of

truth in Liverpool, and had already baptized about thirty. From him

we learned that all those who had sailed before us had arrived in

safety, and had commenced their missions in various parts with good

success. We soon called a general Conference in Preston, where we

were enabled to rejoice together with most of our brethren in the

ministry.

Thus, through the mercy of God, we have been enabled to fulfil

His commands thus far, and have accomplished a journey of five

thousand miles under circumstances which would have discouraged any

except such as were upheld by the arm of Jehovah.

When we take into consideration the persecution, imprisonment, and

banishment, together with the robbing and plundering which has been

inflicted upon our people in the West, and the consequent sickness,

poverty, and distress to which ourselves, families and friends were

reduced, previous to our undertaking this mission--when we consider

that it has been opposed by persecution, sword, flame, dungeons,

chains, sickness, hunger, thirst, poverty, by death and hell, by men

and devils, and all the combined powers of darkness--it would have been

no marvel, if, like Paul, we had failed to accomplish the mission at

present, and had addressed an epistle to the Church in England, saying,

"We would have come unto you once and again, but Satan hindered us."

But this could not take place with us, as it did with Paul,

because our mission to Europe was by express command of the

Almighty, and therefore it had to be accomplished in spite of men

and devils.

One might suppose, from the opposition that it met with, that

Satan was aware that if once accomplished, it would result in the

ultimate overthrow of his kingdom, and the enlargement of the

kingdom of God--which may God grant for Christ's sake.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

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General Conference at Preston, England:--Publishing

Committee:--Editorial Appointment:--First Number of the "Millennial

Star" Issued:--My own Ministry in Manchester and Vicinity:--New Hymn

Book:--Action of Congress on the Missouri Tragedies.

The Autobiography of Parley Parker Pratt One of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Embracing His Life, Ministry, and Travels · 第 58 / 61 章

The dinner over, our brethren took a final leave of us and our