Alone in an Indian country, uncertain where she would go or what she
should do, this woman with seven little helpless children took up the
burden of life. In and through her surged the consciousness that God
doeth all things well. But oh the awful, the silent loneliness!
That evening (11th of Jan.), Newel was buried. No lumber could be had,
so Lydia had one of her wagon-boxes made into a rude coffin. The day
was excessively cold, and some of the brethren had their fingers and
feet frozen while digging the grave and performing the last offices of
love for their honored captain and brother.
As the woman looked out upon the wilderness of snow and saw the men
bearing away all that was left of her husband, it seemed that the
flavor of life had fled and left only dregs, bitter unavailing sorrow.
But as she grew calmer she whispered with poor, pale lips, "God rules!"
Time was empty of incident or interest to Lydia until the 4th of
February, when Brother Miller, who had been to Winter Quarters for
provisions, returned, and brought tidings of a revelation showing the
order of the organization of the camp of the Saints, and also the
joyful news that Brothers E. T. Benson and Erastus Snow were coming
soon to Ponca to organize the Saints according to the pattern given in
the revelation.
On the day of the organization, Lydia returned from the meeting and sat
down in her home full of sad thoughts. How could she, who had never
taken any care except that which falls to every woman's share, prepare
herself and family to return to Winter Quarters and from thence take
a journey of a thousand miles into the Rocky Mountains. The burden
weighed her very spirit down until she cried out in her pain: "Oh
Newel, why hast thou left me!"
As she spoke, he stood by her side, with a lovely smile on his face,
and said: "Be calm, let not sorrow overcome you. It was necessary
that I should go. I was needed behind the vail to represent the true
condition of this camp and people. You cannot fully comprehend it now;
but the time will come when you shall know why I left you and our
little ones. Therefore, dry up your tears. Be patient, I will go before
you and protect you in your journeyings. And you and your little ones
shall never perish for lack of food. Although the ravens of the valley
should feed you and your little ones you shall not perish for the want
of bread."
As he spoke the last words, she turned, and there appeared three
ravens. Turning again to where her husband had stood, he was not.
This was a great comfort and help to her, and her spirits were revived
and strengthened by the promises made.
As spring began to approach, the little camp was visited a great deal
by sickness and death.
The Sioux Indians ran off all the stock they could and generally were
very troublesome.
March came, and Lydia's journal is filled with the little incidents of
camp life, and on every page the over-burdened heart tells its own tale
of sorrow and mourning.
In April, the word was given to move. The camp was organized for
traveling and the Saints commenced their journey.
Lydia started out with her family and effects in two wagons drawn by
three yoke of oxen, and driven by Samuel, who was thirteen years old
and James who was nine.
The brethren were exceedingly kind to the widow and rendered her all
the assistance in their power. There is no kindness on earth more
freely bestowed than that given by the Saints to those who are in
trouble.
A very cold, slow, tedious journey was made down to Winter Quarters.
Arriving there, or nearly there, the camp split up and scattered as
sheep without a shepherd, thus disregarding President Young's counsel,
who wished them to remain at a certain location two miles from the
town. Those who were able, fitted up to go on to the valley with the
companies moving there that Spring, while about ten families under
Captain David Lewis remained at the place designated by President
Young, named afterwards Ponca Camp.
One year was spent by Lydia in this place. Almost immediately after she
reached Ponca Camp, she was counseled to send her step-son, Samuel,
on to the valley. Although she did so, she feared lest his mother's
relatives might take the boy away from her, and she felt she could not
bear to lose him, for he was almost as dear to her as her own sons.
The brethren put up a log cabin for her, and with the help of the nine
year old son, she raised plenty of vegetables through the Summer. Her
cows did well, and she was very comfortable.
On the 26th of August, a little boy was born to Lydia. She had just
moved into the cabin, in which there were no doors nor windows and the
roof was but partially on. However, she and the child did well.
When the little babe was a week old, a sudden severe rain-storm came
up. It poured down into the cabin with much violence. Lydia told her
daughter Sally to give her all the bed-clothes they had, and these were
put upon the bed and removed as they became soaked:
At last, finding the clothes were all wet completely through and that
she was getting chilled sitting up in the wet, she said: "Sally, go to
bed, it's no use doing any more unless some power beyond that which we
possess is exercised, it is impossible for me to avoid catching cold.
But we will trust in God, He has never failed to hear our prayers."
And so she drew her babe to her, and covered up as well as she could,
and asked God to watch over them all through the night.
Her mind went back to the time when she had a noble companion, one who
would never allow her to suffer any discomfort, and who loved her as
tenderly as man could woman. But now he was in the grave in a savage
Indian country, and she was alone and in trouble.
As she thus mused, chilled with the cold rain and shivering, her agony
at his loss became unbearable and she cried out: "Oh Newel, why could
you not have stayed with and protected me through our journeyings?"
A voice plainly answered her from the darkness around her, and said:
"Lydia, be patient and fear not. I will still watch over you, and
protect you in your present situation. You shall receive no harm. It
was needful that I should go, and you will understand why in due time."
As the voice ceased, a pleasant warmth crept over her, and seemed like
the mild sunshine on a lovely Spring afternoon.
Curling down in this comfortable atmosphere, she went immediately to
sleep, and awoke in the morning all right, but wet to the skin.
Instead of receiving harm from this circumstance, she got up the next
morning, although the child was but a week old, and went about her
usual labors.
In the Spring, the Indians came down in great numbers. Winter Quarters
was vacated by the Saints, who moved across the river to Pottowattamie.
This removal was caused by the jealousy of the Indians, who wished them
to get away from the land on which was built Winter Quarters, as it was
part of their reservation.
The Ponca Camp was advised by President Young to move into
Pottowattamie, as the Indians were troublesome, or apt to be so, at
this place also. Accordingly, a general move was made across the river.
President Young, who had been to the valley the year before, returned
now to remove his family. The word was given for all that could, to
fit out and go with the President; those who could not, were to go to
Pottowattamie, and there remain until either they were able to move or
the Church could assist them to do so.
Lydia had at this time two wagons, three yoke of oxen and three cows.
She went over to Winter Quarters on the 30th of April, '48, to ask
President Young's counsel as to her going west with the company.
After representing her condition to him, the President replied: "Sister
Knight, you have a large family of helpless children, and all who go
to the valley must provide themselves with at least eighteen months'
provisions. With your teams, it would be impossible to haul half that,
and it would be the cause of suffering for yourself and little ones to
be in the valley unless you have plenty to last. You know, of course,
we must raise our crops before we can expect to have anything, and
there is nothing but seed crops in this Spring. Now sister, you will be
much more comfortable to go over to Pottowattamie and stay there until
you can come, and find something to come to. If you feel so disposed,
you can let your three yoke of oxen and two wagons go towards helping
to fit out some one who can go and take care of themselves when there."
His words reminded Lydia of a covenant her husband, in common with the
faithful Elders, had made in Nauvoo, that they and all they possessed
should be upon the altar for the assistance of those to remove to the
valley who were otherwise unable to get there, and that they would
never cease their exertions until the removal was made.
Was not this covenant hers?
Without a moment's hesitation, she replied: "Certainly, President
Young, they are at your disposal."
She then returned to her home in Ponca Camp and prepared to go across
the river.
The camp and Winter Quarters were situated on the west side of the
Missouri, and Pottowattamie was on the east side. It was thought best
for Sister Knight to leave her teams and wagons on the west side, and
some of the brethren assisted her across, thus avoiding much ferrying,
which was expensive and troublesome as so many were crossing backwards
and forwards.
Arriving on the east side, she found herself in Pottowattamie again
without a roof to shelter her head.
After some search, a Doctor Lee, who had moved her across the river,
found her a sort of half-cave, half-hut on the bank of a creek. The
sides were of logs, the back being the side of the hill against which
it was built. This was one of the most miserable habitations in which
a human being ever lived. Cold in Winter, sultry in the Summer, filthy
and low. However, Lydia lived here one year.
In the Spring of '49, the waters as usual rose very high. One
afternoon, Lydia took her pail to get some water from the swollen
stream running by the door. As she reached the bank, she saw her
little girl's head on the top of the water as she was floating down
the stream. Dashing in she grasped the child, and, after some severe
struggles, succeeded in reaching the bank with the almost drowned
child. After several hours rubbing, and administering to the child, she
recovered, and only a mother could imagine Lydia's joy at her return to
life.
The following extract from a letter written by Lydia to her parents,
July 10th, 1848, shows the spirit of this quiet but energetic woman,
who as a girl never left "till the last lock was pulled:"
"There are times when it seems as though every power were exerted to
discourage me in what I believe to be the path of duty. And were it not
that my confidence is in God and my faith firmly stayed upon the Mighty
One of Jacob, I am sure I would shrink and fall beneath the burden that
is upon me. I embraced the religion of the Latter-day Saints because my
judgment was convinced that it was necessary for my salvation, and for
this reason I now cling to it. * * * Contrary to my expectations when
I last wrote, I have crossed the Missouri river. I have not yet been
able to procure an outfit to take me to the valley, and I do not know
when I can. It requires my whole time and attention to provide for the
daily wants of myself and family. Yet amid my trials I am happy and
feel assured that my Maker will provide for me, and in His own due time
gather me with His people. * * * I trust that you, my dear parents,
will at some future time be induced to cast your lot with the Saints.
If this desire of my heart could be fulfilled I would experience a joy
which words would fail to express. I still trust in God, knowing that
He will do all things for the best."