Newel set to work to try and assist the homeless ones and feed the poor. To this labor he devoted himself through the Winter.
In February he determined to go, with the rest of his brethren who were leaving the State, but did not know how it could be accomplished.
"Lydia, how are we to manage?
"The mob have killed all my stock but one cow, and we can't very well ride her, or drive her alone."
"Can you not make some turn with the cow so that some one will move us?"
"Perhaps! At least I can try."
After a time a man was found who consented to take them to the Mississippi river for the cow. Accordingly hasty preparations were made, and in the cold Winter, the snow piled up, sometimes to the hubs of the wagon, the husband took his wife and children a journey of two hundred miles.
The snow was scraped away to make their beds, and the cold was ofttimes intense.
Detained through unavoidable circumstances at a small place called Huntsville, they did not reach the river until the first part of May, crossing it and reaching the other side poor, destitute, but oh, so grateful to be once more free! Free to rest from travel and hardships! Free to lie down, and to rise up with their hearts and mouths full of God's praises! Free to live as their conscience prompted them, without the fear of mobs or persecutions!
Once across the river, a low marshy plain covered with grass, stretched away for miles and miles. Here and there a few belts of timber served to relieve the monotony of the landscape, and down swept the waters of the king of American rivers. This was the sight that greeted the weary eyes of our travelers. A small settlement had been started at this place, on the river bank, but the settlers soon deserted it for its unhealthiness was too great to admit of any one living here in comfort for any length of time. One or two empty deserted houses stood here and there, and were soon taken possession of by the first comers.
Our friends, like many others, camped out. They made themselves as comfortable as possible by sewing some of their bed-clothing and the wagon-cover together, thus forming a rude tent.
What a picture this first settling of the place afterwards called Nauvoo must have been! A few houses scattered about, and everywhere tents, bush wickeups and rude shelters of every description dotting the grassy plain. The grass was green, but damp and moist. The water was plentiful and clear, but warm, and over all brooded the wings of the fatal miasma. One by one the families who had been driven from their peaceful homes, found their way across the river and settled here in peace.
Brigham Young had taken charge of this moving host, and the poor were all carefully provided for and moved, through the indomitable energies of Brother Brigham. Joseph was still a prisoner, and so all this responsibility devolved upon the president of the Twelve. History and the grateful hearts of the Saints will testify how well that charge was executed.
A few weeks served to show the people how deadly was the air arising from the swamps and marshes around about.
The sick, infirm and aged were the first victims of the foul miasma. Then little children were prostrated.
Fevers of all kinds contracted in malarious countries were very prevalent. Great numbers of the strong—men and women who had borne every hardship without flinching, lay down in their beds and succumbed to the terrible disease. Ague dragged his shivering, shaking length from door to door, and there were not sufficient strong ones left to bury the dead. Specters instead of men crept slowly about laying those who were sleeping the last sleep in their dreary graves. Pestilence and fever were seated at every fireside. Even Joseph who had escaped from his enemies and came to Nauvoo, soon lay prostrate in his house, and even his yard was filled with the sick, the dying and the dead.
At last the spirit of the invincible Prophet rallied from this blow, and rising up by the power of God he commenced going about healing the sick. Hundreds were so healed; and as the brethren were healed they would arise and follow the Prophet continuing the glorious work. There was a change from this very day. The general health of the people began to improve.
Lydia had managed to wait upon her own ailing child and those of her neighbors who were the most helpless, notwithstanding her health was far from being good. Pale and weak she ministered unto those around her until September, when, worn out with her heavy labors and her body weakened by over-exertion, disease fastened itself upon her and she was prostrated.
For several days and nights she lay in a raging, burning fever, until it almost seemed as though her very flesh would be consumed upon her bones.
One day she called her husband to her bed and said:
"Newel, go and ask the Prophet to send me a handkerchief with his blessing."
"My dear wife, I do not like to trouble Joseph. You have no idea how worn down he is. He has asked the brethren to spare him as much as possible, for these constant never-ceasing calls upon him are depriving him of all his strength. I hope, my dear, you will soon be better."
The night came and passed and morning brought no relief to the weary sufferer.
Again she called Newel to her and entreated him to go to the Prophet and get a handkerchief with his blessing.
Newel went out, and in about half an hour returned, tied a handkerchief over her head saying:
"There, Lydia, is a handkerchief."
The sufferer experienced no relief from it, however, and rapidly grew worse.
A doctor was brought to her, and he tried his best to rally her, but all in vain. Thus one week passed.
One day Newel, seeing she was all but gone and was trying to speak to him, bent over her to catch the faint whisper,
"Newel, I am all but done with my suffering; good-by, dear one. You must do the best you can with the children. I cannot last much longer."
This was very brokenly whispered to the distracted man above her, who, as soon as she ceased, hurried away. Coming back soon, he called her; she knew him but was unable to reply.
"Here, Lydia, here is a handkerchief from the Prophet Joseph. Oh my wife, the one I brought before was not from him, I so hated to trouble him. But see this is from Joseph, and he says your Heavenly Father shall heal you, and you shall be restored to life and health."
The handkerchief was bound around her brow, and as it touched her head, the blessing sent with it, descended upon her; and over her and all through her was poured the spirit of healing. Sleep, so long a stranger to the poor afflicted one, closed her eye-lids in a quiet, restful, blessed slumber.
The hours came and fled, and in the quiet of midnight she awoke, and was like one who had been in a dark, loathsome dungeon, and was again free in the open air and sunshine. In the morning the physician came, and when he saw his patient, he exclaimed:
"Why, I never saw such a change in my life! That last medicine has worked like a charm, I wish I'd stayed and seen it operate. Her pulse is all right, her tongue is all right, and in fact she is comparatively a well woman."
After the docter had praised up himself and his medicine to his heart's content, Newel quietly reached the bottle down from the shelf, and said:
"Sir, there is the medicine you speak of. My wife has not tasted one drop of it."
"But what's the meaning of all this change then?"
"She has been healed by faith through the Prophet Joseph Smith."
After studying some time over the matter the docter said:
"Well it's a good thing to get well on any terms."
The good docter soon after departed, as he plainly saw his services were no longer needed. He was not a "Mormon," although a kind, worthy man.
That day Lydia arose and dressed herself, and went forth to her daily cares.
She found her oldest boy, Samuel, well, and full of a desire to help all he could. The little fellow would take his tiny pail and go to the river, thus supplying the family with all the water needed.
This was in the fall of '39, and her little girl was three years old. She also was well and trotting about the house at her baby plays. The babe James, was very ill. Fever had reduced him to a skeleton, and the mother's heart ached as she looked at his wasted body; but not once did she think of his dying.
Newel was also stricken down after this, and a young girl, Newel's niece, Harriet, who lived with them.
From one to the other went Lydia giving simple remedies, praying for them and doing all in her power to relieve their sufferings.
Once in a while the neighbors would come in and try to help her all they could, although they had their own sick ones at home to attend. Whenever they did come, they would say to her:
"Sister Knight, you can not keep that child; why do you cling so to him? You will displease our Father. Let him go, give him up, and his sufferings will be at an end."
"Oh I cannot think of such a thing!" replied the quiet woman. "Father Smith said in my blessing that my heart should not be pained because of the loss of my children. And I cannot, let him go because I feel that it is not the Lord's will that I should part with him."
On the Sunday following this, the child lay like a breathing skeleton. The skin drawn, the eyes glassy and the breath all but stopped.
The mother knelt over him in an agony of watchfulness.
"Oh Newel, what shall I do? He is sinking so fast. Tell me, advise me! I must do something, or he cannot live!"
The husband looked sadly from the sick bed where he lay, at his little child, but with more sorrow in his eyes for his distracted wife, and at last said:
"You can do no more. Give him up and ask God to soften this great blow to us both."
"Give him up," cried the mother, "give up my boy to the arms of the destroyer! It is impossible. Icannotgive him up."
With burning eyes, but a determined heart she watched him through the long, silent hours of the night. The next morning early, the Prophet chanced to pass the house and Lydia ran out and asked him to come in and see her little child who was nigh unto death. He came in and going up to the child he was shocked at his appearance.
"He is sick indeed. I will tell you one thing more to do, and if that does not save him, you will have to give him up."
"I cannot give him up," the woman replied.
Joseph looked at her, into her clear, calm, determined eyes, and over his face came a peculiar heavenly smile, a smile that was so glorious in its meaning, and said:
"Sister Lydia, I do not think you will have to give him up."
Then, after a moment's thought, "you must send for Father Geo. W. Harris; take some warm water and soap, wash your child from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; then have Father Harris annoint him with holy consecrated oil from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; and I think your child will live."
Lydia lost no time in obeying his words, and when the blessing was over she had the joy of seeing her child revive and he was healed.
On Thursday morning after, Joseph came in to see how the child was, and was pleased to find him restored to health.
"Now, Sister Lydia," he remarked as he was going away, "should your babe take a relapse, you know what has healed it before, do the same again."
That evening, the disease seemed to return and fasten itself closer than ever on the frail child.
Lydia immediately sent for Brother Harris, but he was away from home. The night was again spent in anxious watching.
In the morning she called in two brethren, and she and they repealed the former ceremony of washing and annointing the babe. As the brethrens' hands rested upon his head, a light shone down upon him, like a brilliant sunbeam from a cloudy sky. "The light" faded as they ceased, and the child was completely restored to health from that moment.
The Autumn and Winter passed pleasantly away. Health being restored, homes were being being made for these tent-dwellers.
The busy hum of the workman sounded on every side. Trees were set out; houses, one-roomed, two-roomed and sometimes double-storied, slowly arose to take the place of the parti-colored tents.
The first time Joseph came across Newel, he shook hands with him and enquired:
"Have you brought your mill?"
"No, sir; I had no way to move my mill, it was much too heavy to bring."
"Well now, Brother Newel, I want to give you a mission. Grain is very plentiful here; flour and meal are scarce as it is so far to the nearest mill. Now, go to; build a mill and accomplish it as soon as possible."
This was in the first Spring that they were there, in '39. Brother Knight spent the Summer in erecting a mill. After it was completed he was taken ill, as was related in the last Chapter. On his recovery, he set to work to build a log cabin for his family.
Lydia took possession of her new house as proud as any queen, and far happier.
In October, on the eighteenth of the month, 1840, a little son came to Newel and Lydia, whom they called Joseph, after his grandfather. Two years passed happily and busily away, and on the 14th of October, 1842, another son came to their home, he was called after his father, Newel. The house, its care, the duties of a mother and wife occupied the hands and mind of Lydia during this time.
In 1842, the Relief Society was formed by the Prophet Joseph. It was an organization of women for the relief of the poor, the culture and improvement of its members. Joseph, in organizing it stated that the Church of God would not be complete without this society.
Sister Lydia was enrolled as one of its first members.
The years of '42 and '43, passed away. During this time the Prophet was eagerly sought for by his enemies. Again and again was he taken prisoner for imaginary offenses, and once some ruffians tried to kidnap him into Missouri.
In the Spring of '44, persecution raged high against the leaders of the Church. Mobs once more began to gather and commit depredations.
In the midst of all these persecutions and tribulations a little girl was born to Lydia, on the 6th of June, 1844.
As she began to recover her strength a little, rumors that the blood-hounds were again seeking the life of the Prophet grew more and more frequent. On the 24th of June, Joseph gave himself up to his enemies, his brother Hyrum and eighteen others going with him.
The narrative of the horrible, sickening murder of the Prophet and Patriarch which occurred on the 27th is too ghastly in its details to give in this little story. Who can tell the bitter anguish, the wild unavailing woe that struck the faithful hearts of the Saints in Nauvoo!
The murdered Prophet and Patriarch were brought back to Nauvoo for burial, but Lydia was too weak and too much overcome with grief to attend the services over their remains.
Mourning, deep and solemn, filled the city. And every heart was wrung with grief and woe. But over all brooded the spirit of Christ.
Time passed on without anything of special moment occurring to Lydia or family until the Summer of '45. The Winter of '45, however, brought two little orphan girls to her care by the name of Ames. From the time that Lydia had her first home in Missouri, it might almost be said until the present, her home has been the peaceful asylum for some one or two children who have been homeless.
In the summer of '45, just a year, a month and a day from the time of the martyrs' death. Newel and his wife paid a visit to the scene of the murder.
The jailor's wife who admitted them, showed them up stairs to the large, low-ceilinged room where the deed was committed.
"Do you know," the loquacious woman said, as she lifted the carpets up from the floor, "I have scoured and scrubbed those spots with all my might and it's no manner of use; just as soon as the water is dried off they are as bright as they were the first day. And look at these scars in the wall," the woman seemed to be possessed, as she spoke, with a trembling horror, "I have tried my best to get them filled up."
"Can't they be leveled up? I should think a good plasterer could fill them up," observed Mr. Knight as he examined the holes in the plaster evidently made by rifle and pistol balls.
"Well, you would think so perhaps; but the best workmen in the country have endeavored to plaster the scars up, and you see them now as plain as they were a year ago. The plasterer no sooner leaves his job, than next morning it is all to do over again. It was a terrible affair."
Too much overcome by the remembrance of the tragedy committed there to answer the woman or remain longer on the spot. Newel and Lydia hastily left and wended their way homeward with heavy hearts.
About this time the wicked and those who wished the destruction of "Mormonism," grew more bold and committed depredations without number.
The Saints who were so unfortunate as to live outside the confines of Nauvoo, were annoyed, abused, insulted and maltreated. People began to move into Nauvoo as the mob became fiercer and stronger; for houses and barns were burned, and all the awful scenes of rapine and pillage of Far West and Jackson county were repeated with redoubled violence.
No law could be found strong enough to reach these robbers; no official just enough to punish the perpetrators of the crimes which were constantly committed.
Lydia often looked around her little home and wondered if she would again be driven from all her comforts. One evening Newel came home from council where he had been for hours, with a very sad face.
"Well, dear, what is to be done? Why are you so downcast?"
"Reason enough, my girl. Brother Brigham and the council have decided that we must once more turn our faces westward, and again flee into the wilderness. The outrages of the mob have become so frequent, and they are so encouraged in their deviltry by those who should protect us, that our leaders have given the word to take up the line of march."
"If it be so, Newel, it will ill become us to murmur or indulge in useless regrets. Our place is with the kingdom of God. Let us at once set about making preparations to leave."
The Winter of '46 was spent by most of the Saints in laboring in the temple. As soon as it became generally known that another exodus was to be made, all who were able devoted their time to receiving their blessings in the house of God.
As Spring came on Lydia grew anxious to start on the proposed long journey. Many of the Saints had left or were leaving, and at last Newel succeeded in getting two wretched wagons, three yoke of oxen and one or two cows. A few necessary utensils and the provisions for three months were packed in one wagon, and the family in the other. Thus equipped Newel and Lydia joined a moving company and left Nauvoo on the morning of the 17th of April, 1846. They left mills, house, barn and all their possessions to be occupied by any of the mobbers who might chance to come first.
What a journey! For hundreds and hundreds of miles after leaving Nauvoo stretched away an unbroken prairie. How very long seemed a mile when traversed by oxen! Often the wheels of the wagons would be up to the hubs in the soft, miry land. But here, at least, was freedom. In the evenings the great camp-fires were lit, supper was cooked on the glowing coals and the little ones were put quietly to sleep. Then a merry, cheerful crowd collected around the fire, and talked of the prospects for making homes where mobs could not come. About nine o'clock the little circle would kneel down in simple, humble worship to the Great Omnipotent, and then retire to rest.
The Sundays were always days of rest. A temporary halt was made, and meetings were held. Oh the peace, the rest of those quiet Sabbath days! How fervently Lydia sang,
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow!" How her heart swelled with love to Him who had brought her to these lovely, quiet days!
Four weeks' travel and the company arrived at Mount Pisgah, where they found many of the Saints who were resting and recruiting their teams.
Two or three weeks were spent here. Then again the march was taken up, and again the untrodden prairie rolled away as far as the eye could reach.
Two weeks of slow traveling brought the company to Council Bluffs, where another halt for rest and recuperation was made.
The provisions in Brother Knight's wagon had become very low, and so Newel went down into Missouri and got a few jobs of work that gave him the means to get another stock of food; this time he got ample provisions for one year.
One month had passed, and the word was given to start. The "Mormons" built a ferry-boat and crossed the Missouri river. The company were then all drawn up on a pleasant camping place and here they awaited the arrival of Presidents Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards, who were coming to regularly organize the company.
In a few days the Presidency arrived. President Young had sent a call to all who could furnish themselves with a year's provisions, and a team able to travel, to cross the river and await his coming. Here then they were, and prepared for the organization, which took place on the same day as he arrived.
"My brethren," said the President, "I am pleased to see you so well equipped. We shall organize you into companies of fifty. That is, fifty families in one company, the charge of which shall be given to a captain. You will then be further divided into companies of tens, also presided over by captains. This will insure order and good, careful management. It is imperatively necessary that the utmost unity should prevail. Let every one be careful to cultivate the spirit of obedience to those who will be placed to direct. The journey you are to pursue is one of many dangers and difficulties. You are about to enter into a wilderness where the foot of white man has never pressed the earth. Be prudent! Let not the women venture far from the camp. Keep the strictest watch over the little children that they do not stray. Be careful in all that you do. God will surely watch over you, but you must also exert your utmost vigilance. Never anger the Indians by whom you may be surrounded, but follow the dictates of the Spirit which will lead you to act wisely and cautiously. Let no man set up his judgment against your captain, lest disunion creep in among you, and you shall be deserted by the good Spirit. Be watchful, be obedient and be prudent and you shall be preserved from evil, from the Indians, from the power of the destroyer, and harm of every kind inasmuch as you pay heed to my counsels. You are to go on until you reach the Rocky Mountains, or until you find good wintering for yourselves and stock. I will appoint Newel Knight to take the charge of the first company of fifty, and Joseph Holbrook to be captain of the second company of fifty. These brethren are to have control of the camps, and God will do unto you all even as you keep the commandments He has given you and the counsel I have just given."
Brothers Kimball and Richards also left many blessings with this little party who formed the first organized company for overland travel. Soon after the departure of the Presidency, the emigrating Saints again set out, slowly traveling by day and quietly resting by night.
A week thus spent and they were overtaken by a company under Jas. Emmet and George Miller, who had set up jointly to take the lead of the Church. They had gathered up a company in Missouri and were determined to be ahead in the grand exodus. These men immediately attempted to assume command of the two companies under Brothers Knight and Holbrook.
I must explain this circumstance thoroughly as its bearing on what followed is very important:
There was much discussion, and Newel maintained that he had not been instructed by Brother Brigham to submit to the authority of either Emmet or Miller.
Two weeks were spent in argument and remonstrance, all traveling on, until when within six miles of the missionary station of the Pawnee Indians. By this time quite a number had been so impressed with the perilous picture drawn by Miller and Emmet of their course if they did not unite with his company, that there was quite a division in the camp. A council of the officers was held, and it was decided that Newel Knight and John Kay should return to Winter Quarters, where the body of the Saints were encamped for Winter, and there obtain the word and will of the Lord through His servant Brigham.
Only a short time elapsed before the messengers who were sent to Winter Quarters returned with a letter from President Young. He counseled them not to attempt to reach the mountains, as the season was now to far advanced. But to seek some good place, where people and teams could be fed and be made comfortable through the Winter. And thus it was, the three companies united, and, for the time at least, Emmet and Miller submitted to counsel. The captains then sought for a suitable place to winter.
Some Ponca Indian chiefs came up while the party were in doubt what to do, and after learning what the white men wished, offered them a Winter asylum on their lands. They said, only a few suns would bring them over to the place, and that there were grass and water in abundance.
Accordingly, the companies made their slow way across the plains, traveling two wrecks over the place the swift Indian ponies had traversed in two or three days.
The red men were very kind and hospitable to the white men. Many of them had never before seen a pale-face; and the wagons, cattle, pigs, sheep and chickens were objects of wonder and admiration. The white men were equally amused with the odd dress, manners and habits of the children of the prairie.
A treaty was made for mutual interest and protection, and as Winter drew on, the little camp were getting very comfortable, with log cabins for homes and stables.
Lydia was calm and happy, and looked forward to the time when the end of the long journey would be reached, and she and Newel were once again settled in a home with the dear little ones growing up around them.
The Winter had nearly spent its violence, when over the little cabin where Lydia worked and hoped there was cast a lingering shadow. A shadow dark and grim.
One night in the beginning of January, the shadow drifted in and silently settled down on the faithful husband. She did not see its dusky wings as Newel's voice awoke her, but dimly, so dimly wondered what strange influence was in the room. The grip of the shadowy presence was fastened on Newel, and he knew it.
"Lydia, I have a pain in my side. Be quick, my dear, it is very acute."
The remedy was brought but gave no relief.
On the 11th of January, a woman sat with tightly-closed hands and wild agonized eyes watching the breath of the being she loved better than life itself, slowly cease.
"Lydia," the dying voice faintly whispered, "it is necessary for me to go. Joseph wants me. It is needful that a messenger be sent with the true condition of the Saints. Don't grieve too much, for you will be protected."
"Oh Newel, don't speak so; don't give up; oh I could not bear it. Think of me. Newel, here in an Indian country alone, with seven little children. No resting place for my feet, no one to counsel, to guide, or to protect me. I cannot let you go."
The dying man looked at her a moment, and then said with a peculiar look: "I will not leave you now Lydia."
As the words left his lips, an agony of suffering seemed to seize him. His very frame trembled with the mighty throes of pain.
The distracted wife bore his agony as long as she could, but at last, flinging herself on her knees, she cried to God to forgive her if she had asked amiss, and if it was really His will for her husband to die, that the pain might leave him and his spirit go in peace.
The prayer was scarcely over ere a calm settled on the sufferer, and with one long loving look in the eyes of his beloved wife, the shadow lifted and the spirit fled.
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."
What sufferings must have been endured by these brave, faithful, single-hearted, pioneer "Mormon" women. Pen and tongue are weak to express the struggles and trials of these heroines of modern times.
Lydia was still in her little den into which she had moved when coming to the place one year ago; flooded when it rained, intensely cold in Winter, hot and stifling in the Summer, and always damp, low, unhealthy and impossible to make, or keep clean. Lydia was too neat and thrifty to tamely submit to such a state of things any longer than possible. She felt weak in her own spirit when alone with her sad thoughts, but when the occasion presented itself for action, she was prepared for it.
In June, she heard that the Widow Ensign was about to move to the valley, and wished to sell her cabin and a few acres of farming land. Accordingly she set out to see if she could purchase it. She had been washing and sewing for those of the Saints who could pay for such things, and had saved thereby a few dollars.
She offered the widow what money she had together with some clothing and household effects which she could ill spare, for her cabin and land. The offer was readily accepted, as it was not very easy to sell property, so many were constantly leaving for the valley.
Then, here was Lydia, without a dime and but very few personal effects, settling down for another year, with no prospect of reaching the Mecca of all her hopes, the valley, for at least another year. However, she had a tolerably decent log cabin, which possessed the merit of keeping out the rain, and which could be made a clean dwelling place for herself and little ones. She moved into her new home on the 23rd of June, and her devout spirit breathed a fervent prayer of gratitude to God, as she entered its portals, that she and her children were still alive and well, and that their surroundings were so much improved.
The children were now sent to school, and Lydia took in washing and other work to keep herself and family.
On the 30th of June she writes:
"Have been doing some washing for miners that I may get some money to buy meal. To-day I went with my son to the mill to get something to make bread for my family. Just as I was leaving, a gentleman, learning my situation, told the miller to put up twenty pounds of flour for me, at his expense. May the Lord reward him bountifully."
How many times in the history of this people have unknown friends aided them when in distress! Surely angels must have carefully watched over them in their manifold sufferings.
During harvest, the brethren "took hold" and harvested Lydia's wheat.
The Winter of '49-'50 was spent very peacefully by this patient woman. Her children, whom she had always taught at home previously, were now at school. Busy with her needle and wash-tub, to earn enough to feed and clothe her little ones, the time flew quickly by, and as Spring came on Lydia felt an almost irrepressible desire to make a start to emigrate to the valley.
"James," she said one day to her oldest son, "can't we make an effort to get to the valley this season?"
"Why, mother, what will you go with? President Young took our two teams and wagons and you know we only got back one team and part of the two wagons. What was the reason, mother, that the wagons were so broken up and almost fit for nothing?"
"Well, my son, I have heard it rumored that the teamsters in crossing the plains, returning here, as they did not have proper restraint and care over them, were a little foolish and perhaps cut up the more cumbersome parts of some wagons for firewood."
"How would they drive them?"
"They did not drive the broken wagons, my boy, but would load the more valuable part of several wagons, such as wheels, axle-trees, etc., yoke up long strings of oxen on this wagon, and thus save hunting up wood, or going without, where wood was scarce. But let us say nothing about it; we will be very thankful to have what is here. I have given the pieces of one wagon to get the other one repaired, so that we may have one good wagon. Bishop Hunter was here the other day; he has come on to bring a company of the poorer of the Saints, and will help them with the Emigration Fund, where they are unable to come any other way. Now, the kind Bishop tells me that President Young has given him especial charge to bring us out this season; and he offers me the use of two yoke of oxen. He says I can pay for their use when I get to the valley and earn enough to do so. This, of course, I will do as soon as I possibly can."
"Well, but mother, ain't we poor?"
"Yes, James, but God will always help those to be independent who earnestly desire to be so. We will be blessed in the future as we have been in the past."
It was thus decided to get ready to move westward with Bishop Hunter's company, and Lydia very rapidly completed her preparations for the long journey across the plains. Under Bishop Hunter's advice she sold, for a small sum of money, the yoke of oxen that had returned the previous year from the valley, and turned the proceeds into a little fund for the outfit.
A brother, named Grover, whom she had known in Kirtland, and had been friendly with all through the various moves of the Saints, hearing of her destitute circumstances, and that she was about to emigrate to the valley, came in one day and gave her twenty-five dollars in cash.
She also sold the little cabin and piece of land for about twenty dollars, receiving her pay in corn.
This corn was prepared for the journey in a very odd manner. The children spent many days in parching it; after which it was taken to the mill and ground up. This was done by the advice of President Young, in order to preserve the meal sweet and good. The greater part of the corn was thus prepared; but Lydia carried some meal unparched. She bought a sack of flour weighing one hundred pounds, and thus had for the journey about seven or eight hundred pounds of flour and meal together parched and unparched. A few pounds of dried fish, some soap, eight or ten pounds of sugar, a few matches and a little soda, formed the grocery stores. Her medicine chest consisted solely of a bottle of consecrated oil.
One pair of shoes and a stout, home-made suit or dress with a better one for Sunday use for each of the children; a good shawl for herself and warm wraps for the little ones, made up the scanty wardrobe. But she had quite a good supply of bedding which was of great service to her on the journey. A little stove was set up in the wagon to keep them warm, and a little rocking-chair in the front end of the wagon for Lydia to sit in, were among her selections for the trip. However, she soon found that even these supplies would not go in the wagon, and give room for the seven little ones. Although but twelve years of age, James walked most of the way to the valley and drove the oxen, while Joseph, Newel and Sally walked a great part of the way; but even then, a place must be found for the three smaller ones, beside the mother. So after talking the matter over a great deal, Lydia concluded to yoke up two of her cows on lead of one yoke of oxen, and put the odd cow and the other yoke of oxen on some wagon belonging to the company, the owner of which would allow her to have the use of part of the wagon for her share. Bro. Cluff offered to let Lydia put her cow and oxen on one of his wagons, and partly load the wagon with her things, he having one of his boys to drive. Bro. Cluff was pretty well off, had ten or twelve boys, and was well able to assist the widow.
Lydia found herself ready about the 1st of June, 1850, and started with Bro. Cluff 's folks, traveling as far as Salt River, and then halting for the rest of the company to come up. In about two weeks, the whole company was gathered, organized and ready to start. As was the custom, the party was divided into companies of one hundred; then subdivided into fifties, which were again divided into companies of ten. Bishop Hunter was the presiding captain, and Jesse Haven was the captain of the ten in which were Lydia and her friends, the Cluffs.
For many days they traveled upon the prairie, a level sea of waving green, without a mound or hill to rest the weary eye. After striking the Platte river, they followed it up for hundreds of miles. Sometimes they would reach a little grove of trees, sometimes some brush, or a little driftwood caught in a snag in the river. This was all the wood the camp ever found while on the prairie; and the prudent widow always carefully laid by some wood in her wagon to serve when there was none where they camped.
For very many miles the train moved along the plains up the Platte river, which were then called the "buffalo country." Often in the distance they would see herds of these creatures. One day, they were traveling in a little more hilly part of the country, and became aware that the hills were covered with thousands of these herds. What was thought at first to be trees, turned out to be a moving mass of buffalos; and upon the head wagons getting near enough to see, they found that some of these immense herds were crossing from the hills down to the river to water. A halt had to be called, and some hours were spent waiting for the road to be cleared for a passage.
It was here in this "buffalo country," that the famous stampedes of the animals were wont to take place. Without one second's warning, every ox and cow in the whole train would start to run, and go almost like a shot out of a gun. No matter how weary, or how stupid they were, when one made the spring, the remainder of the horned stock were crazed with fear. On, on, they would go for miles, and seemed unable to stop until headed and brought back to camp. One day while slowly plodding along beneath the burning, sultry sun, the start was made, and as every wagon was drawn by oxen or cows, away went cattle, wagons and inmates; tin and brass pails, camp-kettles and coffee-pots jingling merrily behind and underneath the wagons where they were tied; children screaming, everything that was loose flying out as they bumped along; over the untrodden prairie flew the maddened cattle, nearer and nearer to the river bank, which was here a precipice of twenty-five feet down to the water. Women, seeing their danger, sobbed out wild prayers for God to save; men ran and shouted to no avail; when suddenly over the plumy grass flies a horseman, spurring and screaming to his quivering, panting horse; mothers clasp their frightened babes in their arms, and prepare to face their watery grave. But the rider is up with the head team, and just as the head wagons are within ten feet of the deadly bank, he turns them aside and they are saved.
Lydia's wagon was near the lead, and she came within a few feet of the precipice. When she once more was safely traveling in the road, she and her children thanked God for His deliverance, praying that they might be so endangered no more. Her prayer was granted.
Another stampede occurred, but it was in the night and no one was hurt. The wagons, at night, were drawn up in a circle, the tongue of one resting upon the hind wheel of the preceding wagon; inside of this ring, the cattle were coralled. One night the camp heard the sudden start, and over one wagon over which the lead ox had leaped, went the whole herd. The wagon, which belonged to John Kay, was badly broken up. Out into the prairie ran the cattle; but as speedily as possible a man jumped on a horse, and riding furiously until he got ahead of the herd, he circled round and brought them back to camp. The cattle, when stampeding, always follow a leader, so the horseman took advantage of this, making a circle of some ten miles around to get back to camp.
From ten to twelve miles, was the average day's travel. At night, on reaching camp, the ring of wagons was formed, the cattle were turned out to feed, and then tents (by those who had them) were spread, camp-fires lit, supper cooked by the women; beds made in and under wagons, and in tents; supper eaten, and children put to bed. After dishes were washed and put away, the horn blew and the camp would gather in the center of the circle, a hymn would be sung, and prayer offered to God for future protection with thanksgiving for His past mercies.
Then the cattle would be brought up and corraled, and the older people would gather around the camp-fires; sometimes to sing, sometimes to tell stories of the past, and sometimes even to dance on the level space cleared for the purpose.
At daylight the cattle were again turned out to feed upon the grass, the horn blew, and singing and prayer were offered up to God. Breakfast was soon prepared and eaten, wagons packed, oxen yoked and the day's march was again taken up. No swearing, either at oxen or in any other way was allowed. No one was allowed to wander off; no running of teams, no team could try to pass another, no camp-fires must burn at night after retiring. Great care was taken that the prairies should not be set on fire.
Sabbath day, the train remained in camp, holding service and praising God, resting from the week's journey and toil.
Sometimes a halt would be made for a day or so that the women might wash and iron, and patch up the clothes. At such times, the young men would take their guns, getting permission from their various captains, and go out hunting; rabbits, deer and sometimes a buffalo would be the results of these expeditions, everything being divided carefully among the camp.
The camps were each a company of fifty, traveling about a day's journey apart, on account of the feed for the cattle.
Bishop Hunter was very kind to Lydia, and as they neared their journey's end, he would often come up and ride along a moment, saying in his quaint, abrupt fashion:
"Fine boy, fine boy! cattle look well; old cattle! didn't expect 'em to see the valley; look well, look well, better than when they started. Fine boy, fine boy—!"
By this time the worthy man would be out of hearing and soon out of sight, giving his jerky discourse to the winds that blew softly round his little gig.
Lydia's food lasted very well, she sometimes making a little mush or johnny-cake; the cows giving milk night and morning. When there was no fire she would turn the warm milk out on some parched meal, let it soak awhile, and then eat it with thankfulness.
For butter, the "strippins" were taken at night and in the morning, put into the churn which was in the wagon, and at night she would find a little pat of butter sufficient for breakfast, churned by the day's riding.
Days, weeks and months thus passed by, and at last, about the first of October, the train entered Emigration canyon.
Long camping times were now a thing of the past, and all anxiously watched for the first sight of the valley of the Great Salt Lake, where all their hopes were centered, and their feet were bound.
What a joyful cry ascended from the weary travelers as the mouth of the canyon was reached, and they were almost at their journey's end! Oh, what a glorious time was that! Lydia's bosom swelled with unspeakable joy as her eye beheld the scene before her, and she realized that her journey's end was reached.
A general halt was called, and a universal prayer of praise and thanksgiving ascended to that Father who had established the Saints in the tops of the mountains.
After feasting their eyes until somewhat satisfied, every one anxiously hurried to reach this blessed spot, and very soon the long serpentine train was in motion.
Down the declivity cumberously hastened the tired oxen, urged by the loud and oft-repeated "whoa-ha, whoa," of their lusty drivers.
On the third of October, 1850, the company reached the city, then called Great Salt Lake City. Wagons went here and there, friends rushed out from every hut and tent to greet and welcome the travelers.
As Lydia looked around her she was surprised to see the many comfortable homes dotted around, with weighty stacks of grain, and ricks and stacks of wild hay garnered for the winter's use.
Three years only had the Saints been here and already she saw houses and sheds on every hand, with here and there a fence, all the lumber for which had been sawed out by hand.
The long street on which she was traveling was called Emigration street; (now called third South street); it was a distinct line in this wilderness, of houses, cabins and tents; but as there were very few fences, little could be told of the plan of the city as it now stands.
The houses were mostly thatched with straw or covered with mud. Some few shingles had begun to assert their rights by proudly crowning a few of the most pretentious houses.
Lydia enquired the way to her brother-in-law, Joseph W. Johnson's house, to which she directed James to drive. Joseph Johnson had married Newel's sister, and Lydia met a warm welcome from these kind-hearted people.
Here she rested for several days, washing and ironing up her clothes and overlooking the slender stores remaining from the journey.
Samuel, her step-son, was with his uncle, he having left Mr. Wixom because of unkind treatment. He greeted his mother with noisy rejoicings, and immediately began planning for a home, or a start for one, for the family.
"Mother," he said, about the second day of her arrival, "I think we might take a lot somewhere down in the south-eastern part of the city, drive the wagon on it and then make plans for the coming winter."
"Why, my son, do you wish to go down there?"
"Well, mother, you know the cows must have some feed and on the bench close by, there's pretty good feed."
"Well, Samuel, in a couple of days we will hitch up and make a start for a home once more."
Accordingly, on the fourth day of her arrival Lydia directed Samuel and James to yoke up the oxen and cows, and, for the last time for many months, she and her little ones traveled in a wagon.
She called a halt on a vacant lot in what is now the First Ward, took possession of the same and at once made plans for a house. Before making any move to build, however, Lydia went to the agent of the Emigration Fund, delivered up the two yoke of oxen, and gave her note for sixty dollars for the use of them in crossing the plains. Before two years were past this note was redeemed and she was out of debt.
The adobe yard was close by the new home, and one evening as the little circle was gathered round the blazing camp-fire the widow said, "Boys, do you think you could make adobes?"
"Of course we could, mother; Uncle Joseph will show us; you know he is a mason," said Samuel.
"Well, if you boys could make some adobes, and then get a job to pay for laying them up, we might get up one or two rooms which would be warm and comfortable."
Execution followed close upon the heels of plans with the indomitable little woman, and by the beginning of December the house was ready for occupation. Brother Johnson had laid up the walls of the little, two-roomed house for work which the boys did for him. Poles were brought from the canyon to lay across the top of the walls to serve as rafters on which to pile the roof of straw and dirt. From the wagon Lydia had drawn out three window sash, much to the joy of the boys. These had been saved by the mother when leaving the states. These gave two windows to the front and one smaller one to the back room, which latter was used as a bed-room. The doors were made of "shake" (lumber split out of logs instead of sawed), strongly fastened together and hung with rude, home-made hinges; these doors, overhung with a stout blanket, were quite capable of keeping out the cold. A huge fireplace filled up part of one side of the "big room." The floor of earth was oddly carpeted, first with a lavish supply of straw, over which was stretched a rag carpet fastened to numerous stakes driven down all around the edge of the room. For the bed-room the box of the old wagon was split up and the boards were laid down under the beds. When settled, the little family was more comfortable than it had been since leaving Nauvoo.
As soon as possible after moving into the house, Lydia went around to her neighbors and told them she was about to open a small school.
Schools were then very rare, and on the opening day the brave teacher was surprised to see so many pupils present. The school paid so well during the winter, and so satisfied were the people there with the teacher's labors, that she was solicited to accept the Ward school, which she accordingly did in the Spring.
When first moving into their little, home Lydia had put all the cows but one out upon the range. The following very remarkable instance, is an example of what God will do for those who gladly keep His laws:
The one cow left at home stood out in the open air, staked a little way from the house. One morning in December Lydia awoke to find herself surrounded by a mountain of snow.
"Oh the cow!" said Lydia, as she sprang from her bed; "boys, something must be done."
Hurriedly dressing, she went to the door, and there stood the faithful beast, cold and shivering, and there was not a spear of feed to give her.
"Boys, take this blanket," said Lydia taking a heavy, warm, home-made blanket from her bed, "and go down to Bro. Drake, who lives in the Second Ward. I knew him in the Ponca camp, and something whispers to me that he will let us have some feed for the cow. Tell him I would like to get enough of some kind of feed to last until this storm is over, and we can turn the poor thing out. This blanket is a good, almost new one, and should be worth part of a load."
The boys hastened down to Bro. Drake's, and in a little while Lydia was pleased and surprised to see them returning in a wagon, which was well loaded with feed.
You may be sure Lydia thanked and blessed her kind friend; the boys went to work and made a pen of poles which they had hauled for wood, and soon had "bossie" in a warm place.
In the course of a few days, Lydia was able to churn, getting just about a pound of butter. When it was all worked over, she said to the children who had watched the operation with much interest.
"Now children, what shall we do? Here is just about a pound of butter; we may not be able to get the tenth from the cow, and shall we pay this, the first pound for tithing, or will we eat this and trust to luck to get the tenth?"
"Pay this for tithing," answered all the children with one breath. "We can do without, mother, till you churn again."
So the butter was taken to the tithing office; and that Winter Lydia paid tithing on forty pounds of butter, from that cow who was a "stripper;" (had no calf for two years,) and furthermore, the cow never got a spear of feed but what Bro. Drake had brought, it having lasted until the grass grew in the Spring.
As Lydia has since told me, she has made it a firm rule to pay the first instead of the tenth of everything for tithing, commencing always with New Year's day. "And," added she in relating this circumstance, "I have never been without batter in the house from that day to this."
Spring came and went, Summer passed, and Lydia was still teaching.
Let me copy Lydia's own words about the next events of her life.
"Some time in the Fall of '51, a friend by the name of John Dalton proposed to become my protector for this life, if I wished him to do so. He had a farm six miles from the city, which he had no one to live upon, as his first wife lived in the city in a comfortable home. Said I could think of it, and sometime he would call again. This was a new idea to me; for since my dear Newel's death, I had never thought of marrying again. It had been all my study to take care of our little ones, and try to teach them those principles which would prepare them for usefulness in this life, and to meet their father in eternity, so that we might be an unbroken family in the future state of existence.
"What should I do? What would be for our best good?
"My boys had to go from home to get work, and the responsibilities upon me were very heavy. I prayed, I sought to do for the best. I had always believed in the principle of celestial marriage, since I received a testimony of its truth in an early day from the Prophet Joseph's teachings. I have heard him teach it in public as well as in private; have heard him relate the incident of the angel coming to him with a drawn sword, commanding him to obey the law, or he should lose his priesthood as well as his life if he did not go forward in this principle; and I had received a strong testimony of its truth when under the Prophet's teachings. The spirit seemed to whisper to me, you can now test your belief by practice. What would be for the best for my children? If we were situated on a farm, it would give them employment, always at home; and the change would relieve me of many cares and burdens which were fast growing too much for my strength. My constant prayer was, 'Oh Lord give me wisdom to do that which will by Thy will!' At last, I concluded to accept."
Lydia soon found herself, after accepting the proposition, situated on a farm, with plenty of labor for herself and family. She moved in September, '51. In December, '52, a girl was born to her, whom she called Artemesia.
Nearly five years were spent upon this farm, and at the end of that time, Lydia returned to her home in the city; Mr. Dalton having expressed a desire for her to do so. He said she had performed all the labors required of her in an acceptable manner, but she was welcome now to return home.
She had lived under the celestial law, and had found no more trials than she could bear, and she thus gives her testimony concerning the principle:
"It may be some will enquire of me, 'how do you like plurality after living in it and getting the experience you desired? What are your feelings now?' I will say I like it first-rate; my belief is strengthened; I do beleive it is a principle that if not abused, will purify and exalt those that enter into it with purity of purpose, and so abide therein."
On her return to the city, she took up school again, and the people were very glad to have her do so. She began to teach the Ward school in the Spring of '56.
In the early Spring of '58, when rumors of Johnson's army began to come like a blasting air upon these peaceful mountain homes, Pres. Young called out a standing army to prepare for future emergencies. Lydia's oldest daughter, Sally, had married a young man named Zemira Palmer, some two years previous to this, and they were living in Provo. This young man was called to act as a soldier in this standing army, and he wrote to Lydia, asking her if she would not come and live with her daughter, the boys taking charge of the farm. She complied. But very shortly afterwards the standing army was disorganized. Pres. Young had decided to make a complete move from the city, going south, so that when the army should come in, they would find nothing but desolation and lonliness.
The general excitement caused many weak and doubtful spirits to quiver with affright. Among the rest, an old man living in Provo, named Hoops, had become so alarmed that he was determined to leave Utah at any cost.
One morning Zemira came in and said, "Well Sally, old man Hoops is going to sell out if he can,give outif he can'tsellout, andgetout whether or not. He has a good farm, a city lot and tolerably good house, but nothing will keep him here."
As he ceased speaking, the spirit whispered to Lydia, "The hand of the Lord is in this. Because of your faithfulness in the past, you shall have a good home. Go, and you shall obtain this for yourself and children."
Presently she said quietly to James who was with her:
"Are you acquainted with this old gentleman, Hoops?"
"Yes, mother; why?"
"Zemira will not need us here now, and as we do not wish to return to the city in the present state of things, I thought perhaps we might be able to buy this place of the old man."
"Why, mother, all we have would not begin to buy the place. It's worth several hundred dollars. It would be an imposition to ask the old man to take a wagon and what few other things we could give him. I could not bring my feelings to consent to such an imposition."
Lydia felt that she knew that when she listened to the guidings of that Spirit which had so often prompted her, that she had always succeeded and been prospered; and she was sure, although it looked hopeless, that she would succeed now.
Waiting a little while, she next asked Zemira if he would go with her and introduce her to Bro. Hoops.
With a peculiar smile he answered,
"Yes, mother, I will go with you, if you really wish it, but I have no faith that you can possibly get the place."
They went down to the old man's place and Lydia stated to him the object of her visit. He asked her what she had, and as she named over the various articles she could turn out, he said:
"That's just what I want."
And when she had told him all she had to give, he eagerly answered, "It's a bargain."
So she was once more in possession of a good home.