A TERRIBLE STORY:—THE HAND-CART EMIGRANTS CROSSING THE PLAINS.
“I promised to write and tell you all about our journey across the
Plains, but I little expected to have such a terrible tale to tell.
“You have heard so much of the journey to Salt Lake Valley that you
know pretty well how we must have travelled to Iowa City, where it was
necessary that we should wait until the whole company was quite ready for
the long journey which lay before us.
“Our life up to a certain point was much the same, and we met with the
same difficulties as all other emigrants who had gone before us. But
there the comparison ends. Privation, and toil, and weariness, and not
infrequently sickness and death, wore out many of the companies that went
before us, but they never suffered as we did. It is utterly impossible
for me to tell you all that we went through. And when I finish this
letter and lay down my pen, and even when you read the fearful story
of my own experience during that journey, you will still have but the
faintest idea of the horrors and sufferings which we endured.
“At Iowa City we found nothing prepared for us. When we left Liverpool we
were told that hand-carts, provisions, and all that we needed, should be
provided before we arrived. If this had been done we should have had just
fairly time enough to travel over the Plains and reach Salt Lake before
the terrible cold of winter set in. As it was, everything went wrong. The
Elders who had been sent out before us to buy tents and carts and all
that we wanted had either been unfortunate or very careless, for, as I
said, when we arrived in Iowa City not the slightest preparation had been
made.
“You know how strong my faith was when we left New York, and how Brother
Shrewsbury and myself were ready to sacrifice everything. I can assure
you that we were fully tested, and I do think that but for our strong
faith not a single soul of all that company would have survived that
journey.
“Three companies had, after a long delay, been sent out before we reached
Iowa City. As it was then early in the season, they completed their
journey before the cold of winter set in. I afterwards heard that Brigham
Young and the Elders, when they saw those companies arrive safely in
Salt Lake City, spoke of the scheme as _a successful experiment_. We had
been taught that the scheme came directly from heaven, and was neither
speculation nor experiment, and when I heard that, after all, the Prophet
himself spoke of it as a matter of doubtful issue, I asked myself—_Whom_,
then, can we believe?
“We waited three weeks in Iowa Camp while they were making the
hand-carts. They were very lightly made, and I think not at all suitable
for such a long and wearisome journey; and being so hastily put together,
and most of the wood unseasoned, they were utterly unfit for the rough
work for which they were constructed. Twenty of these carts—one to every
five—were allowed to every hundred persons, who were also allowed five
good-sized tents and one Chicago waggon, with three yoke of oxen, to
transport the baggage and provisions. We were only allowed seventeen
pounds of bedding and clothing each, which, with cooking utensils, &c.,
made up about one hundred pounds to each cart, and that was quite as
much as the cart (itself only sixty pounds in weight) could carry. You
can see, Sister Stenhouse, how difficult it must have been out of every
hundred persons—men, women, and children—to find twenty who were strong
enough to pull even such frail things as those hand-carts were. The
married men and the young men and boys did the best they could, but they
could do no more, and some of the carts were drawn by young girls alone.
“The girls and women who had no husbands used to occupy a tent by
themselves at night; but in the other tents, whole families, without
respect to age or sex, together with the young men who assisted them
during the day, used to find shelter. This you will see at once was
exceedingly inconvenient; but we had no choice, and we had been so long
associated, and had suffered so much together, that we did not feel it as
much as we otherwise must have done.
[Illustration: “GATHERING TO ZION”—LIFE ON THE PLAINS.
_To face p. 125._]
“What weary days we spent! Hour after hour went by, mile after mile we
walked, and never, never seemed to be a step the further on our way.
Sometimes I recalled to mind a hymn which we used to sing at Sunday
School, when I was a child—an evening hymn in which we returned thanks
that we were—
‘A day’s march nearer home.’
“But day after day went by—wearily, hopelessly—and when each night came
on, and, tired and footsore, we lay down to rest, we seemed no nearer to
our home in Zion.
“Do not think, Sister Stenhouse, that we gave way to despondency. What we
felt, God alone knows; but our poor weary hearts were full of confiding
faith in Him, and we placed undoubting confidence in the promises and
prophecies which we had received through His chosen servants. The young
folks were light-hearted and gay, and with all the enthusiasm of youth
they pressed on, thinking not of the way but only of the end; and their
example was most encouraging.
“My husband was one of the bravest and truest of all that band. He
drew the cart which we shared with another Elder and his wife and
their grown-up daughter. They were old people—I mean the Elder and his
wife—and the daughter was an old maid, unpleasant, thin, and sour, and
too feeble to do anything. There were reasons why I was excused from
taking any share in hard work; but I felt as zealous as the rest, and day
after day walked beside my husband, thinking that, if nothing more, my
companionship might cheer him. The old folks walked behind, and so did
the children; but sometimes, when the little ones were very weary indeed,
the parents would place them on the top of the bedding in the hand-cart,
and give them a lift. But some of the elderly people who were unused to
walking far, and whom it was impossible to carry, suffered a great deal;
and sometimes mothers with children at their breasts would trudge on mile
after mile in all the heat and dust without a murmur or complaint, until
they almost dropped down with fatigue. What some of those poor creatures
suffered, no words could tell.
“The sun shone down upon us with intense heat as we travelled through
Iowa, and the people from the farm-houses and villages came out to see
us, and wondered at our rashness in undertaking such a journey. They were
very kind to us, and came and visited us in our camps, and offered some
of the men work and good wages if they would stay there instead of going
on to Zion. A few of the people accepted these offers; but the Elders,
as you may suppose, watched carefully every company and every man; and
in the evening, when meetings for prayer and preaching were held, we
were earnestly exhorted to obedience, and the sin of acting upon our own
judgments was set forth in the very plainest terms. The kindness of the
Iowa people, however, encouraged us, and they freely gave to those who
most needed whatever they could to help us on our way.
“And we needed help and sympathy.
“Of course, with only one waggon to carry all the provisions for a
hundred persons, besides five tents, our supply of food was very limited.
At that period of the journey the grown-up people were allowed ten ounces
of flour a day and a little—and but a very little—coffee, sugar, rice,
and bacon. This was a very scanty allowance for people who all day long
had to draw the hand-carts or to trudge mile after mile in all that
burning heat and dust—but we never complained. Some of the men ate all
their rations at breakfast, and went without anything more until the next
morning, unless they were able to beg a little of some friendly farmer by
the way. The little children received just half as much as the others.
With a very small amount of management this inconvenience might certainly
have been avoided, for provisions of all sorts were very cheap in the
districts through which we passed. Some of the more thoughtful saints, I
know, felt very bitterly the injustice of this; for, as you are aware, we
had paid _all_ our expenses _in full_—even to the uttermost farthing; and
we had been promised in return a safe and sufficient outfit with plenty
of provisions, and in fact all that was necessary. Had we been left to
ourselves, we should of course have provided for every contingency; but
we came in obedience to counsel under the direction of the Church, and
after we had paid for everything; the Church even ‘took care’ of our
money, so that we therefore could not procure necessaries by the way, as
otherwise we might have done.
“Thus wearily, and suffering not a little privation, we travelled all
through Iowa, until we came to the Missouri river and encamped at
Florence, a place about six miles north of Omaha, and there we remained
about a week, preparing for our journey across the Plains.
“It was the middle of August when we arrived at Florence, and we had
been delayed so much on the way that it appeared to many of the more
experienced that it would now be the height of imprudence for us to cross
the Plains at that season. With old people, delicate women, and little
children, and without carriages of any sort—except the frail hand-carts
that carried our bedding—it would be a weary, long time, before we could
reach Salt Lake. Every step must be trudged on foot, and it was quite
impossible that we could walk many miles a day, while there was before us
a journey of over a thousand. Some of the Elders proposed that we should
settle where we were, or somewhere near by, until the following spring,
and then go on to Zion; but others who were more confident urged that we
should proceed at once. The Elders called a great meeting to settle the
matter, at which we were all present.
“I should tell you that when we first started our whole company was
placed under the guidance of Elder James G. Willie as captain; and we
were again subdivided into five parties of about one hundred each, and
over every hundred was placed an Elder or sub-captain. The first hundred
was headed by Elder Atwood, the second by Levi Savage, the third by
William Woodward, the fourth by John Chislett, and the fifth by Elder
Ahmensen. About two hundred of the people were Scotch and Scandinavians;
nearly all the rest were English. All were assembled at the meeting. You
know, Sister Stenhouse, how meetings were held at home. Well, it was just
the same there. We, of course, had nothing really to say—we had only to
obey counsel and sanction the decision of the leading Elders. I used to
feel annoyed rather at that sort of thing in London, as you may remember;
but now, when life and death depended upon the wisdom of our decision,
with all my faith, I felt worse than annoyed, wicked as I have no doubt
it was for me to feel so. My husband never uttered a word, but I know he
felt much as I did, and in that he was not alone among the Elders.
“We had neither vote nor influence—the Elders held our destiny in their
hands. In all our company there were only three or four men who had been
out to Salt Lake before, and of course they could not be overlooked, so
they gave their opinion at the meeting. They must have fully known the
dangers and difficulties of the way, and what hardships _must_ overtake
a company so scantily provided for as was ours, if we continued our
journey. But, for all that, they not only spoke slightingly of the danger
which threatened us, but prophesied, in the name of the Lord, that we
should pass through triumphantly and suffer neither loss nor harm.
“One man alone—Levi Savage—dared to tell the truth. People well-mounted,
or even with good ox-teams, could safely and easily make the journey,
he said; but for a band of people like ourselves, with aged folks, and
women, and little children, to attempt it so late was little short of
madness. He strongly urged that we should take up our quarters there for
the Winter, when, he said, as soon as spring came on, we could safely and
successfully perform the remainder of our journey.
“The other Elders thought that he was weak in the faith, and plainly
told him so; and one of them even said, ‘he’d eat all the snow that fell
between Florence and Salt Lake City.’ The people, of course, believed
without question what they were told to believe, for they had long ago
made up their minds that the leaders were inspired, and therefore they
dared not doubt them, and the prudent counsel of Brother Savage was
rejected accordingly. I was not near enough to hear his words, but I was
afterwards told that he said, ‘What I have said, I know is the truth; but
as you are counselled to go forward, I will go with you; I will work, and
rest, and suffer with you; and, if God wills it so, I will also die with
you.’ Never was man more faithful to his word than was Brother Savage,
and often after that, when sickness, and weariness, and cold, and hunger,
and death, overtook us—as he had foreseen—he never for one moment forgot
the promise which he had so solemnly made.
“Then—the middle of August being passed—we left Florence behind us,
and began our weary journey across the Plains in much the same fashion
as we had already travelled through Iowa. We had, however, taken fresh
provisions to last us until we reached Utah, and as the oxen could not
draw so much extra weight, one sack, weighing about a hundred pounds,
was placed on each of the hand-carts, in addition to the other baggage.
This was a severe tax upon the endurance of the people, but most of them
bore it without a murmur. On the other hand, we fared a little better
in the matter of provisions, for we were allowed a pound of flour a day
each, and also, occasionally, a little fresh beef, and besides that each
hundred had three or four milch cows. As we continued our journey, and
the provisions were consumed, the burdens on the carts, of course, grew
lighter.
“But this was only the beginning of our pilgrimage;—the end we could not
foresee. Every evening, when we pitched our tents, we endeavoured—by
songs, and jests, and interesting stories—to beguile the tediousness of
the way. The days were not quite so warm now, and the nights were more
chilly; but altogether, it was much more pleasant travelling than it was
in the earlier part of the journey, and no one seemed to remember the
almost prophetic remonstrance of Brother Savage.
“Still we travelled very slowly, for the carts were always breaking down;
the wheels came off, and we had nothing to grease them with. The boxes
of the wheels were made of unseasoned wood, and the heavy pressure upon
them, and the dust that got into them, soon wore them out. Some of the
people cut off the tops of their boots and wrapped them round the axles,
and others cut up their tin plates and kettles for the same purpose; and
for grease they used soap, and even their pitiful allowance of bacon. But
as the days passed, and the flour began to be used up, these accidents
became less frequent.
“Upon an average, they said, we travelled about fifteen miles a day,
which I think was very good. Some few days we even made a little over
twenty miles, but they were balanced by the shortcomings. We tried to
feel happy and hopeful, and even the aged and infirm tried to make light
of their toil and privations, for we did not see that heavy cloud which
was looming across our way. I frequently talked with the old and weakly
among the people, to whom both my husband and myself were able to offer
little kindnesses, and they all spoke cheerfully of our prospects. Such
faith had they in the promises of the Elders.
“Just before we reached Wood river, vast herds of buffaloes appeared in
our vicinity, and one evening all our cattle stampeded, and the men had
to go in search of them. About thirty were lost, and after hunting after
them for three days, we gave them up. We had only one yoke of oxen now
for each waggon, and as the waggons were loaded each with three thousand
pounds of flower, the teams could not move them. So they yoked up the
beef-cattle, and cows, and heifers, but they were unmanageable; and at
last we were obliged again to place a sack of flower upon each hand-cart.
“This sorely tried us all. Some of the people even complained, but the
greater part of us bore up bravely, believing that it was the will of the
Lord. We still had faith that all would yet be well. This was, however,
a hard blow. Our milch cows were useless to us, our beef-rations were
stopped, and the burdens which we drew were doubled. Every one did his or
her best, but many of us began to be disheartened, and could hardly get
along.
“One evening there was quite a commotion in the camp. We had pitched
our tents for the night on the banks of the Platte river, I think, when
suddenly quite a grand turn-out of carriages and light waggons came up
from the east and joined us. Each carriage was drawn by four horses, and
the outfits were in first-class style. Nothing could be too good for
Apostles and other ‘distinguished’ servants of the Lord, I was anxious
to know who they were, but was not long in finding out. There was the
Apostle Franklin Richards, and Elders Webb and Felt, and Joseph A. Young,
the son of the Prophet, and Elders Dunbar, and Kimball, and Grant—all
returning Missionaries. They stayed with us all night, and in the morning
called a great meeting, and the Apostle Richards delivered a speech,
which since has troubled me not a little, and made me very sorrowful.
“He had heard of what Brother Savage had said, and then and there, before
us all, he rebuked him. He then exhorted us to remember the hope set
before us, and told us to pray and work on, and especially to be obedient
to counsel; and he finished by solemnly prophesying, in the name of the
God of Israel, that the Almighty would make a way for us to Zion; and
that though the snow might fall and the storm rage on the right hand and
on the left, not a hair of our heads should be hurt.
“Some of the people wept with joy as they heard these words. My own heart
was full. To me, this was the voice of inspiration—the voice of God—how
could I doubt again?
“Sister Stenhouse, before a month was over, I saw with my own eyes that
prophecy, those promises, falsified to the very letter; and yet at the
time they came to me and to all else as the word of the Lord from heaven.
Tell me, if men can thus deceive themselves—for I do not doubt for a
moment that the Apostle believed his own prophecy—and if we could be so
sadly deluded as to believe that what was said was divine—what surety
have we for our religion at all? I strive against these sinful doubts,
but they _will_ sometimes creep into my heart unbidden.
“The Apostle and the Elders with him told Captain Willie that they wanted
some fresh meat, and the Elders killed and gave them of our very best.
What could be denied to the Servants of the Lord? We were then more
than four hundred in number—aged men and feeble women, with babes and
poor little children too young to walk; many of them infirm and sick,
all of them footsore and weary. We were far away from home, travelling
slowly hundreds and hundreds of miles, worn out, and without sufficient
provisions for the way, or the remotest chance of obtaining any. And
yet, oh God! I shame to tell it; these servants of Heaven—our leaders,
our guides, our example—these chosen vessels who came to us, riding
comfortably and at ease in their well-appointed carriages, took of our
poverty—took the very best we had!
“As they left the camp, I looked up into my husband’s face, and our eyes
met. We said not a word, but in our hearts there was the same thought.
Sister Stenhouse, there must have been that self-same thought in the mind
of many another poor soul who watched those Elders depart after they had
lectured us on faith and patience and obedience!
“They crossed the river pleasantly enough, and pointed out the best
fording-place, and then they watched us wade through—the water there
being nearly a mile in width, and in some places two and even three feet
in depth—and though many of the heavy-laden carts were drawn by women and
girls they never so much as offered to lend us the aid of their handsome
teams. One sister told me that they watched the poor people crossing,
through glasses, as if it were an entertainment; but I did not see that,
and can hardly believe it was true. All that they did, however, was
to promise that when we reached Laramie we should find provisions and
bedding and other necessaries ready for us, and that they would send help
from Salt Lake Valley to meet us.”