Captain of Martin Handcart Company.
Born: 1818 England
Edward was born in Preston, Lancashire, England, November 18, 1818. He joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in England and emigrated to the United States.
He was one of the Saints called upon to defend his country as a member of the Mormon Battalion in the Mexican War. Later he was sent on a mission back to England, and returning from there, he became Captain of the ill-fated Fifth Handcart Company of 1856.
The Fifth Handcart Company actually left Iowa City as two companies. Edward Martin was the Captain of one and Jesse Haven was the Captain of the other. They traveled separately until they reached Florence, Nebraska, where Elder Haven joined the Hodgett Wagon Company, and the two handcart companies combined under Elder Martin.
Captain Martin also brought a wife back with him from England, Eliza Salmon. Their first baby, George, was born August 12, 1856, in Iowa City, Iowa, while waiting for the handcart journey to begin. Edward and Eliza eventually had ten children. Two of Edward’s other wives died and Eliza also raised their children.
As the handcart company sought the shelter of the northern mountains in a ravine later to be named Martin’s Cove, they had many difficulties. It was a struggle for all of them to keep from freezing to death. Icy winds blew over a number of tents and many of the immigrants died.
One afternoon, Captain Martin, together with two or three other men, set out from the camp at Devil’s Gate, when they were surprised by a snowstorm and they lost their way. After wandering about for several hours, the men came near perishing and endeavored t make a fire to warm themselves. They gathered some cedar twigs and struck match after match to light them, but in vain. At length, with their last match and the aid of portions of their clothing, they succeeded in starting a fire. This was seen from the handcart camp, from which, after all their anxious and weary wanderings, they were only about a half-mile distant. Help soon came to the wanderers and the rescuers carried Captain Martin, who was nearly exhausted, back to camp.
There were many deaths in the camp. John Bond, a 12-year-old boy in Martin’s company recorded some experiences that give us a small idea of what leadership meant for Edward Martin: “. . . [Some died] lying side by side with hands entwined. In other cases, they were found as if they had just offered a fervent prayer and their spirit had taken flight while in the act . . . Some died sitting by the fire; some were singing hymns or eating crusts of bread . . . Captain Martin stood over the grave of the departed ones with shotgun in hand, firing at intervals to keep the crows and buzzards away from hovering around in mid air.
Peter McBride, a young boy in the Martin Company, later paid tribute to Captain Martin in the narrative he wrote of their trek: “We had to burn buffalo chips for wood, not a tree in sight, no wood to be found anywhere. Just dry earth and rivers. We children and old folks would start early so we wouldn’t be too far behind at night. A great many handcarts broke down, oxen strayed away, which made traveling rather slow. Quite an undertaking to get nearly one thousand persons who had never had any camping experience to travel, eat, and cook over campfires. It took much patience for the captain to get them used to settling down at night and to get started in the morning.”
John Bond also recorded a time when a sister whose husband was near death and whose two sons were suffering with frozen feet, appealed to Captain Martin, ‘Do you think that the relief party will come soon with food, clothing and shoes?” Bond recalls that Captain Martin gave this suffering pioneer woman encouragement by answering, ‘Y almost wish God would close my eyes to the enormity of the sickness, hunger and death among the Saints. Yes, Sister Sermon, I am as confident as I live that the President (Brigham Young) will and has dispatched the relief valley boys to us and I believe that they are making all the haste they can, that they are bringing flour, clothing, shoes, etc.”
A day or two later, this sister, with faith in Captain Martin’s words, was looking into the west. All at once she sprang to her feet and screamed at the top of her voice, “I see them coming! I see them coming! Surely they are angels from heaven.
Edward Martin lived in Salt Lake City and died there at the age of 64, on August 8, 1882. His youngest child was just eight years old.
He was one of the Saints called upon to defend his country as a member of the Mormon Battalion in the Mexican War. Later he was sent on a mission back to England, and returning from there, he became Captain of the ill-fated Fifth Handcart Company of 1856.
The Fifth Handcart Company actually left Iowa City as two companies. Edward Martin was the Captain of one and Jesse Haven was the Captain of the other. They traveled separately until they reached Florence, Nebraska, where Elder Haven joined the Hodgett Wagon Company, and the two handcart companies combined under Elder Martin.
Captain Martin also brought a wife back with him from England, Eliza Salmon. Their first baby, George, was born August 12, 1856, in Iowa City, Iowa, while waiting for the handcart journey to begin. Edward and Eliza eventually had ten children. Two of Edward’s other wives died and Eliza also raised their children.
As the handcart company sought the shelter of the northern mountains in a ravine later to be named Martin’s Cove, they had many difficulties. It was a struggle for all of them to keep from freezing to death. Icy winds blew over a number of tents and many of the immigrants died.
One afternoon, Captain Martin, together with two or three other men, set out from the camp at Devil’s Gate, when they were surprised by a snowstorm and they lost their way. After wandering about for several hours, the men came near perishing and endeavored t make a fire to warm themselves. They gathered some cedar twigs and struck match after match to light them, but in vain. At length, with their last match and the aid of portions of their clothing, they succeeded in starting a fire. This was seen from the handcart camp, from which, after all their anxious and weary wanderings, they were only about a half-mile distant. Help soon came to the wanderers and the rescuers carried Captain Martin, who was nearly exhausted, back to camp.
There were many deaths in the camp. John Bond, a 12-year-old boy in Martin’s company recorded some experiences that give us a small idea of what leadership meant for Edward Martin: “. . . [Some died] lying side by side with hands entwined. In other cases, they were found as if they had just offered a fervent prayer and their spirit had taken flight while in the act . . . Some died sitting by the fire; some were singing hymns or eating crusts of bread . . . Captain Martin stood over the grave of the departed ones with shotgun in hand, firing at intervals to keep the crows and buzzards away from hovering around in mid air.
Peter McBride, a young boy in the Martin Company, later paid tribute to Captain Martin in the narrative he wrote of their trek: “We had to burn buffalo chips for wood, not a tree in sight, no wood to be found anywhere. Just dry earth and rivers. We children and old folks would start early so we wouldn’t be too far behind at night. A great many handcarts broke down, oxen strayed away, which made traveling rather slow. Quite an undertaking to get nearly one thousand persons who had never had any camping experience to travel, eat, and cook over campfires. It took much patience for the captain to get them used to settling down at night and to get started in the morning.”
John Bond also recorded a time when a sister whose husband was near death and whose two sons were suffering with frozen feet, appealed to Captain Martin, ‘Do you think that the relief party will come soon with food, clothing and shoes?” Bond recalls that Captain Martin gave this suffering pioneer woman encouragement by answering, ‘Y almost wish God would close my eyes to the enormity of the sickness, hunger and death among the Saints. Yes, Sister Sermon, I am as confident as I live that the President (Brigham Young) will and has dispatched the relief valley boys to us and I believe that they are making all the haste they can, that they are bringing flour, clothing, shoes, etc.”
A day or two later, this sister, with faith in Captain Martin’s words, was looking into the west. All at once she sprang to her feet and screamed at the top of her voice, “I see them coming! I see them coming! Surely they are angels from heaven.
Edward Martin lived in Salt Lake City and died there at the age of 64, on August 8, 1882. His youngest child was just eight years old.
EXCERPTS FROM LEVI SAVAGE’S JOURNAL
June 15, 1856, Sunday, Brother Hunt’s, New York. This morning I attended meeting. The most of the congregation were the Saints that arrived last night in the Ship “Thornton.” We also had good meetings in the afternoon and evening.
June 16, 1856, Monday, Brother Hunt’s, New York. Today I went to Castle Garden and visited the Saints that have lately arrived. They are generally well and in good spirits. A large number of them intend to cross the plans with handcarts and will take the cars for their place of outfit, called Florrance, formerly winter quarters.
June 18, 1856, Wednesday, Steamer, New Jersey. This morning I commenced to prepare to start for home in company with about 500 Saints who are in the charge of Elders Willey and Atwood. Elders Willey and Atwood were obliged to stop a few days to attend to some business, consequently, they gave me charge of the Saints until they overtook us. At five o’clock p.m. we set sail up the North River, and at ten p.m. arrived at the depot where we took the cars for Duncurk.
June 19, 1856, Thursday. Elders Willey and Atwood overtook us. We took the steamer to Toledo, touching at Sandusky City, where I took leave of then nearly being in good health and spirits. I took the cars for Greenfield, Ohio where I met with a number of my relatives. They were extremely glad to see me. This is my birthplace. I have circled the globe.
July 10, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints. This morning at about eleven o’clock I arrived in good health and spirits in Iowa City, and soon after found myself’ in the camp of about 1,500 Saints. The camp is situated two and one-half miles west of the above-mentioned city. Here I met with President D. Spencer, Elders D. Tiler, J. Furgerson, and others. The Saints, though some exposed to the weather, are generally well and in good spirits. A considerable number are preparing to go with handcarts.
July 11, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Today agreeable to council, I reported myself to Brother Daniel Spencer, the agent for forwarding the Saints. He requires my assistance, and I commenced. . . .
July 12, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa City. . . . . This evening the Saints were called together in the capacity of a business meeting and organized into companies for traveling. I was appointed captain over the second hundred in Elder Willey’s company.
July 13, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. We assembled and partook of the Sacrament, and then had an able discourse from Elder Tiler. Many strangers present. A good spirit prevailed. Only one drunken man made a little disturbance.
July 14, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. Today we spent in preparing to start. Agreeable to council, we sold all luggage over 17 pounds per person. This makes us rather destitute for wearing apparel and bedding.
July 15, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. Today Sister Hurren was delivered of a fine daughter. She is very feeble. It was thought the child would die soon after it was born, but I administered to it and it soon revived. A few in the camp are suffering from diarrhea. We spent the day in preparing for our journey.
July 16, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, About four o’clock p.m. our oxen being yoked, our handcarts were started, drawn by old and young, male and female, all in good spirits and receiving a hearty cheer by our friends that are left behind.
July 18, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints. Today we traveled about eight miles. Some few of the Saints are sick, but generally are enjoying good health and spirits. Our teams were very awkward and the teamsters more awkward than the oxen.
July 19, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints. Today we traveled about twelve miles. The weather was very warm and the roads very dusty. Some of the Saints, both old and young, were nearly overcome, yet they endured much better than could be expected. Surely the blessings of the Lord were with us.
July 20, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints. Today we remained in camp. Many of the inhabitants here visited us. Some of them manifested a very envious spirit. Last evening, just before we camped, a man by the roadside said to Brother Willey that he would come and tear our tents down, if it should take fifty men to accomplish it. Some of our visitors manifested a spirit that was willing, to carry his threats into execution. They endeavored to get into an argument. At half past two o’clock we held a meeting and told the people some of our faith and beliefs. Also, our determination to carry out, or obey, the commandments of God regardless of the consequences. We said that it was our privilege, according to the laws of the land, to worship God as we pleased, and no man had any business to interfere with us. After meeting they were perfectly docile and soon returned home. The night past quietly.
July 21, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints. At seven o’clock a.m. we started and traveled seven miles, then camped for the remainder of the day and night. We did our washing. Our sick are improved, and the Saints that remain generally manifest a good spirit. Yesterday some turned back, six in number.
July 23, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning the Saints arose in good spirits and started their journey. The weak are getting strong. The lame and aged get along exceedingly well. About twelve o’clock a.m. Sister Mary Williams, aged 50 years, was taken up from the side of the way insensible. At first she was supposed to be overcome with the heat. After this, it was ascertained that she had been eating a quantity of green plums and crabapples. She died about five o’clock p.m. At dark having laid by, in consequence of the excessive heat, several hours in the middle of the day, we pitched our tents. All arrived safe in camp, although somewhat fatigued by the journey and the heat, though in good spirits.
July 24, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we moved about one mile ahead, made a coffin for the corpse of Sister Mary Williams, put it in, and buried it in a gentile burial ground. I got some blacksmithing done, sixty-five cents worth. Several in camp are severely ill. Our rations are very short, viz. 10 ounces flour per one day, 10 ounces pork per 28 days. Also short rations of tea, coffee, sugar, rice and apples. It is not enough. There is some complaining. The inhabitants are generally very kind, but others manifest none of the spirit.
July 25, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we started early. We had a cool breeze of wind all day. We traveled about 12 or 14 miles and camped by a small creek (Bear Creek) that is destitute of wood. This afternoon the Sheriff of the county came to search our wagons for women, that they said a man in Brooktin accused us of having. They searched our wagons and went off satisfied that it was not so.
July 26, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Last evening some persons came in hearing of the camp and commenced singing bawdy songs, then called over some names and commenced singing again and going away until the sound died in the distance. We heard no more of them. This morning at four o’clock we arose at the sound of the bugle, as usual. We got our breakfast and commenced preparing to start. About this time it commenced to rain. This made very heavy traveling and much fatigue. Sister Cooper fainted by the way. We traveled about eleven miles and camped for the night on Sugar Creek.
July 27, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River. This morning we moved five miles and camped on this creek for the day. A goodly number of the citizens came to new our camp and hear preaching. A few ruffians also came. One of them picked up a hatchet and put it into his pocket. This caused some angry words. During the day and evening they made great threats of disturbing us, but they did not put their threats into execution. We were prepared to defend ourselves. Afternoon I preached to an attentive congregation. A good spirit prevailed.
July 28, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, two miles from Nuton, Iowa. This afternoon we have had a very hilly road. We passed through Nuton about four o’clock p.m. By the appearances, one would suppose that the inhabitants of the town and surrounding country were roadside to see us pass. We had been informed that the inhabitants were prepared to mob us as we passed, or were encamped; but, we passed through fearlessly, and no one molested us but gazed with apparent surprise. We traveled fourteen miles.
July 29, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River, Iowa. Today we traveled 12 miles. The roads were good. Some of the Saints are ailing, sore-footed and lame, but generally manifest a good spirit.
July 30, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River, Iowa. About eleven o’clock last evening Brother Hurren’s daughter, aged two weeks, departed this life. Her death was caused by the canker. This morning we buried her, then started and traveled to Fort DeMoine twenty miles. Many of the Saints were nearly overdone by the long march. We did not get into camp until after dark.
July 31, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Walnut Creek, Iowa. This morning we moved from Fort DeMoine to a mile out and camped until afternoon, then traveled four miles more. Here a large number of ruffians came determined to disturb our camp. We kept a strong guard and no one entered our camp. They dispersed about twelve o’clock.
August 1, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Today we traveled about twelve miles. We intended to go twenty, but the march was too long. Some of the aged and infirmed went forward several miles and were obliged to come back. We sent the mule team after them.
August 2, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Middle Coon River, Iowa. Today we traveled sixteen miles. The people are generally healthy.
August 3, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, South Skunk, Iowa. At four o’clock this morning the Saints in camp were called up. They got breakfast, attended prayers and at seven o’clock were on our way again. We traveled ten miles and camped about twelve o’clock. Here we remained and rested the remaining part of the day. We had many visitors, male and female citizens of the country. They were very civil.
August 4, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. At four o’clock a.m. we were called up. We had breakfast, had prayers and at half past six were on our way. We marched seventeen miles and encamped by a small creek. There was little timber, except a few willows which served to make fires for cooking. Just before camping we had a little rain.
August 7, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we all arose early, had breakfast, attended prayers and started. We traveled seven miles to a small village called Indian Town. We drove through about a mile and took dinner. Here we met with a brother from Pennsylvania by the name of Joseph Seltcer. He gave Brothers Willey, Atwood, Woodard, Chislet, Cox and myself dinner. He is strong in the faith and intends to dispose of his property and gather with the Saints this fall. From here we traveled six miles and encamped by a small creek. There was sufficient brush for cooking. As we passed through Indian Town several of the Saints stopped and purchased some necessary provisions. Among these was Brother I. Smith who in making change accidentally left his purse with six sovereigns, one Mexican dollar, one half-dollar, and one ten cent piece in it. Endeavors were made by search warrant to obtain it, but failed. This operation detailed Elder Woodard and others with the mule team in town all night.
August 9, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Cass Creek, Iowa. This morning, as usual, we arose early, had breakfast, attended prayers and were on our way at quarter after seven o’clock a.m. We traveled ten miles to Silver Creek and dined. Here Brother Garner, his daughter and son left us. His wife remained and traveled with us. From this place we went to Cass Creek six miles further and encamped for the night. This afternoon we had a small shower of rain.
August 10, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, Musket Creek, Iowa. Today we remained in camp until four o’clock p.m. Then we started and traveled ten miles and encamped on this creek at dark. This afternoon Brother Garner, with his son and daughter, returned and desired to go on with us. He said that he was sorry and should ask forgiveness for he had been wrong and would do better for the future. Upon these considerations, I consented to take him along. He had endeavored with great inducements to persuade his wife to stop with him. He was unable to do so. This, I believe, to be the greatest cause of his wishing to continue with us.
August 11, 1846, Monday, Camp of the Saints, Florance, Nebraska Territory. This morning we arose early, got our breakfast, attended prayers and started. After traveling about three miles we came to Bluff City. Here, like all other towns through which we have passed, the people thronged the street sides and gazed upon us with apparent great surprise. They were civil, except a few fellows who endeavored to make sport of us, the crippled and lame not excepted. They were reprimanded by the better chaps. Here we met Elder McGaw, the Emigrating Agent at Florance. As he returned to Florance he came to a house near which some of our company had stopped for refreshments. Here some of the gentiles and apostates commenced to abuse the Saints and curse the handcart system and those that instituted it. Brother McGaw stood in defense of the system. Saints and servants. Consequently got into a fist fight with them. He whipped one or two of them, but received no material injury to himself except getting his hair well pulled. We moved to the Missouri River, ferried over and encamped just after dark. The last handcart company left here for Salt Lake about three weeks since.
August 12, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today we commenced preparing for our journey and ascertaining who wishes to go on this fall and who wishes to remain here. Many are going to stop. Others are faltering and I myself am not in favor of, but much opposed to, taking women and children through when they are destitute of clothing, when we all know that we are bound to be caught in the snow and severe cold weather long before we reach the valley. I have expressed my feelings, in part, to Brothers McGaw, Willey and Atwood. Bother Atwood said to me last night, that since he had been a member of this Church, with all of his experience, he had never been placed in a position where things appear so dark to him, as it does to undertake to take this company through at this late season of the year.
August 13, 1856, Wednesday. Florance. Nebraska Territory. Today we continued preparations for starting. Evening we held meeting in camp. Brother Willey exhorted the Saints to go forward regardless of suffering even to death. After he had spoken, he gave me the opportunity of speaking. I said to him that if I spoke I must speak my mind, let it cut where it would. He said certainly to do so. I then related to the Saints the hardships that we should have to endure. I said that we were liable to have to wade in snow up to our knees and shovel at night, lay ourselves in a thin blanket and lie on the frozen ground without a bed. I said that it was not like having a wagon that we could go into and wrap ourselves in as much as we like and lay down. “No,” said I, “we are without wagons, destitute of clothing and could not carry it if we had it. We must go as we are. The handcart system I do not condemn. I think it preferable to unbroken oxen and experienced teamsters. The lateness of the season was my only objection to leaving this point for the mountains at this time. I spoke warmly upon the subject, but spoke truth, and the people, judging from appearance and expressions, felt the force of it. (However, the most of them determined to go forward, if the authorities say so.) Elder Willey then spoke again in reply to what I had said, evidently dissatisfied. He said that the God that he served was a God that was able to save to the uttermost. He said that was the God that he served, and he wanted no Job’s comforters with him. I then said that what I had said was the truth, and if Elder Willey did not want me to act in the place where I am, he is at full liberty to place another man in my stead. I would not think hard of him for it, But, I did not care what he said about Job’s comforters, I had spoken nothing but the truth and he knew it. Elder Atwood then spoke mildly and to the purpose. He said that he had been listening to what had been said. He exhorted the Saints to pray to God and get a revelation and know for themselves whether they should go or stay, for it was their privilege to know for themselves. The meeting was dismissed, all manifesting a good feeling and spirit.
August 14, 1856, Thursday, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today continued preparing for our journey. This morning I met Brothers George Grand and Vancott. I was glad to see them. They have been a few days dam the river on business and returned last evening.
August 15, 1856, Friday, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today we continued preparations for starting. I wrote a letter to my brother Alanson. Evening we held meeting. Elders McGaw, Kimble, Grant, Vancott addressed the Saints, exhorting them to go forward regardless of the consequences.
August 16, 1856, Saturday, Little Papaw, Nebraska. This afternoon at four o’clock the first and second hundreds moved out five miles to this creek.
August 17, 1856, Sunday, Little Papaw, Nebraska. This morning I wrote a letter to my brother Alanson in Illinois and one to Joseph Bouton in Connecticut. I then went back to town with six men and got thirty-seven beef and milk cows. Our wagons are loaded with thirty-five and forty hundred of provisions, and we yet want twenty-five hundred or more and have no wagon, nor can we purchase one to haul it in.
August 18, 1856, Monday, Big Papaw, Nebraska. This morning Brother McGaw and William Kimble came and supped with a few of the Saints. At four o’clock we moved on to this creek five miles. Brother McGaw and Kimble accompanied us to this place, then returned.
August 19, 1856, Tuesday, This morning we moved on and ferried over the water and drove on about two miles and encamped. We left a cow behind this morning that she might find her calf which she had hidden. We left a man to bring her up. He came away and left both cow and calf.
August 20, 1856, Wednesday. This morning I took the mule and went back twelve miles to get the above-mentioned cow, but not the calf. At two o’clock p.m. we moved on twelve miles to the Plat. The weather denotes a storm. It rained a little. We met some emigrants from California. They did not come through Salt Lake City.
August 21, 1856, Thursday, Plat River. Today we traveled up the Plat bottom to another bend in the river for twelve miles. The grass was high. The roads were sandy and the weather very warm. At one o’clock we arrived at the river much fatigued. Here we took refreshments, divided the cows to each hundred, and at six o’clock started. We drove four or five miles and encamped without wood or water.
August 22, 1856, Friday, Plat River. This morning we started at sunrise. We traveled four or five miles to Shell Creek. There we took breakfast, bought a few articles of a man by the name of Isaac Albertson, then across the bottom to another bend in the Plat, a distance of twelve or fifteen miles. We arrived about six o’clock p.m. and encamped for the night.
August 23, 1856, Saturday, Soap Fork. Today we ferried the Soap Fork.
August 24, 1856, Sunday, Soap Fork. Today we traveled fifteen miles, camped by this river; caught some fish.
August 25, 1856, Monday, Soap Fork. This morning three cows were missing. Brother Griffins stopped back for them. He found only one. Ye traveled fifteen miles, encamped just at sunset, Just before this, we had a small shower of rain.
August 26, 1856, Tuesday, Soap Fork. This morning all had moved off the ground, when I observed that the king bolt of the last wagon was broken. This detained us until nine o’clock a.m. We then moved on and overtook the company. After traveling about twelve miles we encamped on this River. This evening I caught a fine mess of catfish.
August 27, 1856, Wednesday, Soap Fork. This morning we left the Soap Fork at twelve o’clock. We came to some wells, from this over sandy roads to a pond of poor water, having traveled about fifteen miles, we encamped. Captain Bunker’s Company passed us.
August 28, 1856, Thursday, Wood River. Today we crossed Privy Creek about twelve o’clock, From this point Brother Siler and I went in search of buffalo. We saw four and shot at them, but got none. The handcarts and teams moved on to Wood River some eight or ten miles. Brother Siler and I joined the carts about two miles from the River. The team did not get to camp until after dark. They left old Brother Haly behind a mile and a half or two miles distant. They sought for him, but in vain. He lay out all night and encountered a heavy rainstorm.
August 29, 1856, Friday, Wood River. This morning all healthy men in camp were requested by Brother Willey to go in search for Brother Haly. We found him about a mile and a half from camp, wet and cold but in good spirits. We started at twelve o’clock a.m. We traveled five or six miles and came upon 800 Pawnee Indians. They are hunting buffalos. Yesterday they killed 90. We bought some meat of them. They informed us of a A. Babel’s teamster being killed by the Cheyenes. A woman that was with them was carried captive and her child, six months old, killed. The U.S. Troops followed and killed some of them.
August 30, 1856, Saturday, Wood River. This morning the Indians came to the camp early to trade more. At seven o’clock a.m. we were underway. At twelve a.m. we stopped to dine. Here we saw two oxen in the yoke at a distance. Brother I. Elder and myself went on horseback and got them. They were very winded. We had a hard run for them. From this we traveled until near six p.m. and encamped, having traveled about fifteen miles. A. Babel, whose teamsters were killed and who stopped back on business has just overtaken us. I have not spoken to him yet.
August 31, 1856, Sunday, Drycreek and Platte River. This morning Mr. A. Babel left us and went to Fort Carney. He brought an elderly sister from Florance intending to take her to the Valley, but the robbery committed upon him by the Indians decided him against taking her. He hired Brother Siler to take her. We traveled eighteen miles. Had a good camping.
September 1, 1856, Monday, Buffalo Creek. Today we traveled about eighteen miles. This evening we killed a buffalo and a cow for beef. The cow was shot eleven times before she fell. I have never seen a beast so murdered before. Brother Willey had some disagreeable words concerning brother Silers driving his teams after the handcarts and in front of the handcart teams. I objected to his driving there, it being to use as a traveling camp for our sick. Brother Willey says he shall drive there. He has driven there from Florance except two days.
September 2, 1856, Tuesday, Buffalo Creek. Today we traveled thirteen miles, encamped at four o’clock. Plenty of buffalo in sight. Some of the brethren shot at them but got none.
September 3, 1856, Wednesday, near Chutak Lake. This morning just after daylight Sister Ingra, aged 75 years, who had been sick and deranged, and had been drawn in a handcart from Iowa City, died. She suffered much. The camp moved on while Elder Willey and others remained behind and burled her. At twelve o’clock the brethren killed two buffalo near the road. We took the meat on handcarts. Traveled sixteen miles and encamped without wood. Cooked our food with buffalo chips (dry dung). Brother I. Elder and I went on horseback and endeavored to get a buffalo calf or cow. The old bulls would not let us have any. They formed themselves in battle array, ready to receive their enemy. Their large herds are to be seen in all directions. We did not get to camp until after dark
September 4, 1856, Thursday, Near Chutah Lake. Sometime last night thirty of our best working cattle left us. We had a guard around then, but no one knows when or where they went. I and a number of the brethren, spent the day unsuccessfully hunting them. As I passed down the river I saw Brother Smoot’s train on the opposite side south. We had an awful storm last night.
September 5, 1856, Friday, Near Chutah Lake. Today we also searched for the cattle without success. Brothers Atwood, Siler and Jolts visited Brother Smoot’s company across the Platte. I came to camp at dark and found Brothers Smoot and Rockwell. I was glad to see them. They stopped with us all night.
September 6, 1856, Saturday, Near Chutah Lake. This morning Brothers Elder and Smith started back toward Florance after the stray oxen. The remainder of us removed the camp, half at a time, about three miles. About three o’clock p.m. Brothers Smoot and Rockwell left us to overtake their train which is supposed to be moving fifteen miles ahead.
September 7, 1856, Sunday, Near Chutah Lake. This morning four men from California were seen encamped near us. Brother Willey, myself and others visited them. The names of three of them are as follows: James H. Hurn (He said they had left a horse about eighteen miles back and I could have him if I could find him.), Franklin Hawkins, and John Hawkins. They were short of provisions. They intended to go to Varney, then to Missouri, We spent a part of the day in a meeting, preaching to the people. The remainder of the day was spent in repairing our handcarts and yoking unbroken cows.
September 8, 1856, Monday, Platte River. This morning a discharged soldier, from Laramie, came into camp and reported two families from Salt Lake killed by the Indians. One of their names was Thomas Margrets. They were all well known by many of the Saints in this camp. We put from our wagons on to our handcarts about forty hundred of flour, hitched up our teams and got underway about eleven o’clock. We went ten miles and camped by the Platte. Numbers of the sick did not get in until sometime afterwards. Our wild cows broke extraordinarily well. Surely the hand of the Lord is with us yet.
September 9, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. This morning we started rather late. We had heavy sandy roads, traveled about twelve miles and encamped at four o’clock p.m. on Skunk Creek. Our teams, as well as the Saints, were very tired.
September 10, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. Today we had sandy roads. We traveled fourteen miles and encamped at the Cold Springs.
September 11, 1856, Thursday, Platte River. Today we have had good roads. Crossed several creeks, over which the most of the women and children were carried by Brothers Willey, Atwood and others. All in good spirits and but few are sick. The flour on some of the carts draws very hard.
September 12, 1856, Friday, North Bluff Fork. This morning we started at half past eight and traveled eleven miles; crossed this creek about four o’clock p.m. Soon after this Brothers F. D. Richards, D. Spencer, S. Welock, Wm. Kimble and others came up with us; also, Brothers Elder and Smith, who went in search for our cattle. It was a joyful meeting. No one has heard of, or seen, our cattle. This evening, by moonlight, we held meeting. President Richards and otters spoke and congratulated the Saints on their arduous journey and the blessings they should hereafter receive. We had a good time
September 13, 1856, Saturday. This morning, agreeable to Brother Richards’ request, and Brother Willey’s orders, we arose at four o’clock, had breakfast, and made ready for starting at seven o’clock a.m. At this time our tears being hitched to our wagons and our handcarts packed ready for starting. Very unexpected to me, I perceived a meeting of the Saints was called, not on the campground as usual, but a short distance one side. I supposed it was for prayers. After singing and prayers Brother Richards commenced to speak, and I soon perceived that the meeting was called in consequence of the wrong impression made by my expressing myself so freely at Florance concerning our crossing the plains so late in the season. The impression left was that I condemned the handcart scheme, which is very wrong. I never conveyed such an idea, nor felt to do so, but, quite to the contrary, I am in favor of it. Also, the meeting was called, more particular in consequence of someone, unknown to me, informing Brother Richards of the disagreeable words that took place between Brother Willey and myself concerning Brother Siler’s teams traveling between the handcarts and fund wagons, which I supposed was settled. When I asked Brother Willey’s and the Saints’ forgiveness for all that I had said and done wrong, Brother Richards reprimanded me sharply. Brother Willey said that I had manifested a bad spirit from Iowa City. This is something unknown to me and something he never before expressed. I had always the best of feelings toward him and supposed he had toward me until now, except in the case of Brother Siler above-mentioned. After meeting President Richards and company left us intending to arrive in Salt Lake City in time for October Conference. Agreeable to his council, we crossed the river on to the south side and encamped. The water was shallow, but it required a strong team to draw our wagons through the sandy bed of the river, a mile distant.
September l4, 1856, Monday, Platte River. Today we traveled up the Platte bottom twelve miles and camped by the River again.
September 15, 1856, Monday, Platte Hills. This forenoon we traveled up the bottom on good roads. Afternoon we commenced to ascend the bluffs. The ascent was sand; it caused very hard pulling. As we arose the summit, three Indians came to us. They were apparently friendly and said that the Cheyenes and Sioux would kill us all. They said that they had some five days ago fell upon a large train. What damage was done we did not ascertain, and we have only the Indians to confirm it at best. At sundown we camped around a small buffalo wallow which had been recently filled with rain. We were all much fatigued with our day’s journey. We chained our oxen to the wagon for there was neither bread nor water, and we had some fears of the Indians. We set a strong guard. About two o’clock a .m. an alarm was made. I immediately got out of bed, but seen nor heard nothing of Indians. Some said they saw one and heard the voices of others.
September 16, 1856, Tuesday, Platte Bluffs. This morning the camp was called by the sound of the bugle at three o’clock and moved before daylight. We traveled some ten miles, in which distance we descended through a rough canyon to the Platte where we took breakfast at ten o’clock a.m. Here we remained until two p.m. when we moved up the river three or four miles and encamped for the night. Both people and teams are much fatigued by the heavy sandy roads.
September 17, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. This morning, just before the camp got underway, a cold and strong wind arose from the northwest. This, together with the heavy sand, made our progress very slow and extremely laborious. Several were obliged to leave their carts and they, with the infirmed, could scarcely get into camp. Our teams also, at times, could scarcely move. We traveled about ten miles.
September 18, 1856, Thursday, Ash Hollow. This morning we got underway as usual and traveled four or five miles to where the road ascended the bluffs. There we dined, then doubled our teams, and ascended the long, steep hill. Immediately we reached the summit, we commenced descending into a hollow and encamped at the mouth by the Platte. At dinner Sister Reade, who Brother Babel left with us, was missing. It was ascertained that she was ahead, but she is not in camp and no one knows where she is. She is bound to stay out overnight.
September 19, 1856, Friday, Mouth of Ash Hollow. Today we remained in camp to repair our carts. Some were broken and others have the axels badly worn. Brother Chislet, with a company of brethren, went in search of Sister Reade. About eleven o’clock a.m. they returned and reported they had followed her footsteps seven or eight miles, mingled with Indian footsteps and suppose that the Indians have gotten her. President Willey was not fully satisfied and determined to go himself. He chose me and ten others. We found her steps as reported, but I was satisfied that she had not been disturbed by Indians. She had taken the road up Ash Hollow, going back to South Fork of the Platte, About five miles out we found her steps going back, but it soon left the road. Dark came and we returned to camp. When we arrived we found she had just been brought in by some of the brethren who had gone to the canyon for timber. She was nearly exhausted, having been thirty-six hours without food and water. The weather is extremely warm.
September 20, 1856, Saturday, Platte River. At two o’clock p.m. having repaired our carts, we started and traveled six or eight miles. The air is cool and this evening a mist of rain commenced to fall northward.
September 21, 1856, Sunday, Platte River. Last night was very rainy and disagreeable, also wet and cold today. Many are sick and stopping back to get in the wagons. The roads are very sandy. We could scarcely move. Sister Season’s little boy, two years old, died at eleven o’clock last night. The weather is yet cold and damp. Traveled twelve miles
September 22, 1856, Monday, Platte River. This forenoon a mist of rain was still falling. Afternoon the clouds broke a little. The rain stopped and it became a little warmer. We have traveled about twelve miles today. Brother Empy departed this life at half past one p.m. One of his hands and arm was nearly covered with sores. I should suppose hereditary. He has been having the ague some time past, but no one thought him dangerous.
September 23, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. This morning was cold and foggy. The Saints slow in rising and getting breakfast early, notwithstanding Brother Willey’s repeated order to arise at the sound of the bugle (daylight). Apparently not realizing the necessity of our making as much distance as possible in order to reach the Valley before too severe cold weather, some complain of hard treatment, because we urge then along. Many hang on to the wagons. This afternoon we came in sight of Chimney Rock and camped within ten miles of it. Have traveled sixteen miles.
September 24, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River near Chimney Rock. Today we traveled sixteen miles. Camped near Chimney Rock. I thought we were nearer last night to it than we are. We have fair weather.
September 25, 1856, Thursday, Platte River. Today we traveled about sixteen miles and at five o’clock encamped a short distance above Rubadore’s Last Trading Post. Just before we arrived at the post we found and caught a large dark bay horse. He is very thin in flesh and has been left, no doubt, by some company passing to or from Great Salt Lake, or California.
September 26, 1856, Friday, Platte River. Today we traveled fourteen miles without water. Some of our oxen nearly gave out. We camped at Rubadore’s Old Trading Post. When we stopped at twelve o’clock a.m., Sister Ann Briant, who had been ill for sometime, but not thought dangerous, was found dead in the wagon in a sitting posture, apparently asleep. Her age is seventy years next month.
September 27, 1856, Saturday, Platte River. Today we traveled about twelve miles. The old appear to be failing considerably.
September 28, 1856, Sunday, Platte River, Twenty Miles From Laramie. Today we traveled sixteen miles. At twelve o’clock we met a company from Salt Lake going to the States. I think mostly apostates. Benjamin Brackenbary was with them. They said Babbitt was killed by the Indians. Just before camping some soldiers that were camped near the road took the horse that we had caught.
September 29, 1856, Monday, Five Miles Below Fort Laramie. Today we traveled about fourteen miles. Brother Woodard and Brother Elder went to the fort. Brother Richards has no cattle provided for us here and no other provisions made.
September 30, 1856, Tuesday, Fort Laramie. Today we moved on six miles, camped two miles from the fort.
October 1, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. This morning Brother David Reader was found dead in his bed. He has been ill for some time. He had no particular disease, but of debility. He was a good man and a worthy member of the Church. Brother Siler and company stopped here to recruit and strengthen his teams, and to join the first wagon company that arrives here bound for the Valley. Our camp moved on, and Brothers Willey, Atwood, myself and others went to the Fort and purchased provisions. They are extremely costly. I stopped all night with Brother Siler and company.
October 2, 1856, Thursday, Early This Morning. I returned to the Fort to make the sale of my watch. It cost me $20 and I sold it for $11 and purchased a pair of $6 boots and other articles. I then proceeded to overtake the camp. On my way I met a company of Elders from the Valley bound to the different nations of the earth to preach the gospel. I met Brother P. P. Pratt in camp. He spoke cheeringly to the Saints. Today Brother Reade died of a disease of the heart. He is age 64.
October 3, 1856, Friday, Platte River. Today we left the River, crossed over the hills; it is said to be twenty-two miles to food and water. We traveled until eight o’clock p.m. and camped within a half of a mile of a spring, but no feed for our cattle. We were all fatigued. Brother Ingra, aged 68, died just after we camped.
October 4, 1856, Saturday. This morning at ten o’clock we started and traveled about five miles to a small creek and encamped. We took an estimate of our provisions and reduced our rations to twelve ounces per day. The Pacific Springs is the only place that we are sure of meeting supplies. Brother Benjamine Culley, aged 61 years, and David Gadd, aged 2 years, died. They were buried at dawn. Some stealing is practiced by some, consequently, we put all the provisions into three wagons and placed a guard over them.
October 5, 1856, Sunday. Eight o’clock this morning we got underway. Have good roads, traveled about sixteen miles and camped by the Platte. The weather is very fine.
October 6, 1856, Monday, Platte River. Today we traveled sixteen miles. Our rations are now reduced to an average of twelve ounces of flour per head. We are not certain of supplies before arriving at the Pacific Springs.
October 7, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. Today we traveled fourteen miles. The weather is good.
October 8, 1856, Wednesday, Deer Creek. This morning when we arose, we found the best ox on our train dead. In the weak state of our team, the loss impaired us much. At nine o’clock a.m. we moved. We traveled fifteen miles. Our old people are nearly all failing fast. A four-mule team, an express from Laramie, is camping near us. They passed us this afternoon
October 9, 1856. Today we moved sixteen miles.
October 10, 1856, Friday, Last Crossing of the Platte. At about twelve o’clock we passed the Platte Bridge. Here we got thirty-seven buffalo robes, which President Richards purchased for us. We moved on five miles, crossed the river and encamped. Our teams are very weak.
October 11, 1856, Saturday, Mineral Springs. Today we traveled twelve miles. Three of our working cows gave out and one died. The remainder of our oxen were nearly overcome.
October 12, 1856, Sunday, Small Creek. Today we left out of the yoke some of our cows that were nearly exhausted. Last night our cattle had good feed, and they traveled much better today than yesterday. One of the cows that was overcome with work could not be gotten within a mile of camp. Brother Willey ordered several of the brethren to go back and kill her for the people to eat (if they wanted it). They struck her twice in the head with an axe. She got up and ran into camp, where she was shot and dressed. The people have sharp appetites.
October 13, 1856, Monday, Greenwood Creek. Today we have traveled thirteen miles. The nights are cold. The days are warm and pleasant.
October 14, 1856, Tuesday, Independence Rock. Today we traveled twelve miles. We crossed the Sweet Water River at the second bridge.
October 15, 1856, Wednesday, Sweet Water. Today we traveled fifteen and a half miles. Last night Caroline Reeder, aged seventeen years, died and was buried this morning. The people are getting weak and falling very fast. A great many are sick. Our teams are also failing fast, and it requires great exertion to make any progress. Our rations were reduced last night, one quarter, bringing the men to ten ounces and the women to nine ounces. Some of the children were reduced to six and others to three ounces each.
October 16, 1856, Thursday, Sweet Water. This morning we had three deaths and one birth. We have traveled eleven miles today. Our oxen are much worn down and our loadings were used daily by the weak and sick.
October 17, 1856, Friday, Sweet Water. At two o’clock this morning Brother William Philpot died and was buried before we started. At ten o’clock the camp moved. We traveled ten miles and encamped at sunset.
October 18, 1856, Saturday, Fourth Crossing of the Sweet Water. Today we traveled eight miles; camped; killed a beef, and prepared for a sixteen mile drive to water. The air is cool, but fair.
October 19, 1856, Sunday, Fifth Crossing of the Sweet Water. At half past ten o’clock we started. In about one hour we encountered a very severely cold and blustering snowstorm. It lasted for one hour. The poorly clad women and children suffered much. At twelve o’clock we net Brother Wheelock and company who have come to our relief. He reported forty wagon loads of flour one day in advance of us. This was joyful news to us for we had eaten the last pound of flour, having only six small beefs and 400 pounds of biscuits to provision over 400 people. After a short meeting in which Brothers Wheelock and I. Young spoke cheeringly to the Saints, we moved on. The wind continued strong and cold. The children, the aged, and infirmed fell back to the wagons until they were so full that all in them were extremely uncomfortable. Brother Knockles, aged 66 years, died during the day in a handcart hitched behind one of the wagons. Sister Smith and Daniel Osborn, age eight years, died in the wagons. They had been ill for some tune. The carts arrived at the River at dark. One wagon, it being dark, took another road and did not get into camp until eleven o’clock p.m. They were nearly exhausted and so were myself and teamsters.
October 20, 1856, Monday, Sixth Crossing of the Sweet Water. This morning when we arose, we found several inches of snow on the ground and is yet snowing. The cattle and people are so much reduced with short food and hard work that except we get assistance, we surely cannot move far in this snow. Brothers Willey and Copt and Elder started on horseback about ten o’clock to search for the wagons that Wheelock reported a short distance in our advance. This morning we issued the last bread, or breadstuffs, in our possession. It continued snowing severely during the day. We expected Brother Willey would return this evening, but he has not come.
October 21, 1856, Tuesday, Cross of the Sweet Water. This morning about eleven o’clock Brother Willey returned, with Brother George Grant, having a good supply of teams, wagons and provisions, and some clothing. A desirable relief. Here we buried several persons.
October 22, 1856, Wednesday. We prepared for starting and commenced moving about twelve o’clock. Brother Grant took a good portion of the teams and continued his journey to meet Brother Martin’s company. Brother William Kimble took charge of our company. We traveled about ten miles and camped at the foot of what is called the Rock Ridge. I had charge of the teams. Because of their reduced strength and heavy loads, a 1arge number of sick and children were in the wagons. I did not arrive in camp until late at night. The wind blew bleak and cold and firewood very scarce. The Saints were obliged to spread their light bedding on the snow, and in this cold state endeavored to obtain a little rest. Sister Philpot died about ten o’clock p.m., leaving two fatherless girls. Several others died during the night.
October 23, 1856, Thursday Morning. We buried our dead, got up our teams and about nine o’clock a.m. commenced ascending the Rocky Ridge. This was a severe day. The wind blew hard and cold. The ascent was some five miles long and some places steep and covered with deep snow. We became weary, set down to rest, and some became chilled and commenced to freeze. Brothers Atwood, Woodard and myself remained with the teams. They being perfectly loaded down with the sick and children, so thickly stacked I was fearful some would smother. About ten or eleven o’clock in the night we came to a creek that we did not like to attempt to cross without help, it being full of ice and freezing cold. Leaving Brothers Atwood and Woodard with the teams, I started to the camp for help. I met Brother Willey coming to look for us. He turned for the camp, as he could do no good alone. I passed several on the road and arrived in camp after about four miles of travel. I arrived in camp, but few tents were pitched and men, women, and children sat shivering with cold around their small fires. Some time lapsed when two teams started to bring up the rear. Just before daylight they returned, bringing all with them, some badly frozen, some dying and some dead. It was certainly heart rendering to hear children crying for mothers and mothers crying for children. By the time I got them as comfortably situated as circumstances would admit (which was not very comfortable), day was dawning. I had not shut my eyes for sleep, nor lain down. I was nearly exhausted with fatigue and want of rest.
October 24, 1856, Friday. This morning found us with thirteen corpses for burial. These were all put into one grave. Some had actually frozen to death. We were obliged to remain in camp, move the tents and people behind the willows to shelter them from the severe wind which blew enough to pierce us through. Several of our cattle died here.
October 25, 1856, Saturday. We commenced our march again. From this I have not been able to keep a daily journal, but nothing of much note transpired, except the people died daily. Theophilus Cox died on the morning of the 7th of November, on the Webber, was carried to Cottonwood Grove, East Canyon Creek, and there buried. We overtook Brother Smoot’s company in emigration on the 9th. That afternoon we arrived in Great Salt Lake City and deposited the people among the Saints, where they were made comfortable.
June 16, 1856, Monday, Brother Hunt’s, New York. Today I went to Castle Garden and visited the Saints that have lately arrived. They are generally well and in good spirits. A large number of them intend to cross the plans with handcarts and will take the cars for their place of outfit, called Florrance, formerly winter quarters.
June 18, 1856, Wednesday, Steamer, New Jersey. This morning I commenced to prepare to start for home in company with about 500 Saints who are in the charge of Elders Willey and Atwood. Elders Willey and Atwood were obliged to stop a few days to attend to some business, consequently, they gave me charge of the Saints until they overtook us. At five o’clock p.m. we set sail up the North River, and at ten p.m. arrived at the depot where we took the cars for Duncurk.
June 19, 1856, Thursday. Elders Willey and Atwood overtook us. We took the steamer to Toledo, touching at Sandusky City, where I took leave of then nearly being in good health and spirits. I took the cars for Greenfield, Ohio where I met with a number of my relatives. They were extremely glad to see me. This is my birthplace. I have circled the globe.
July 10, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints. This morning at about eleven o’clock I arrived in good health and spirits in Iowa City, and soon after found myself’ in the camp of about 1,500 Saints. The camp is situated two and one-half miles west of the above-mentioned city. Here I met with President D. Spencer, Elders D. Tiler, J. Furgerson, and others. The Saints, though some exposed to the weather, are generally well and in good spirits. A considerable number are preparing to go with handcarts.
July 11, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Today agreeable to council, I reported myself to Brother Daniel Spencer, the agent for forwarding the Saints. He requires my assistance, and I commenced. . . .
July 12, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa City. . . . . This evening the Saints were called together in the capacity of a business meeting and organized into companies for traveling. I was appointed captain over the second hundred in Elder Willey’s company.
July 13, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. We assembled and partook of the Sacrament, and then had an able discourse from Elder Tiler. Many strangers present. A good spirit prevailed. Only one drunken man made a little disturbance.
July 14, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. Today we spent in preparing to start. Agreeable to council, we sold all luggage over 17 pounds per person. This makes us rather destitute for wearing apparel and bedding.
July 15, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, near Iowa City. Today Sister Hurren was delivered of a fine daughter. She is very feeble. It was thought the child would die soon after it was born, but I administered to it and it soon revived. A few in the camp are suffering from diarrhea. We spent the day in preparing for our journey.
July 16, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, About four o’clock p.m. our oxen being yoked, our handcarts were started, drawn by old and young, male and female, all in good spirits and receiving a hearty cheer by our friends that are left behind.
July 18, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints. Today we traveled about eight miles. Some few of the Saints are sick, but generally are enjoying good health and spirits. Our teams were very awkward and the teamsters more awkward than the oxen.
July 19, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints. Today we traveled about twelve miles. The weather was very warm and the roads very dusty. Some of the Saints, both old and young, were nearly overcome, yet they endured much better than could be expected. Surely the blessings of the Lord were with us.
July 20, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints. Today we remained in camp. Many of the inhabitants here visited us. Some of them manifested a very envious spirit. Last evening, just before we camped, a man by the roadside said to Brother Willey that he would come and tear our tents down, if it should take fifty men to accomplish it. Some of our visitors manifested a spirit that was willing, to carry his threats into execution. They endeavored to get into an argument. At half past two o’clock we held a meeting and told the people some of our faith and beliefs. Also, our determination to carry out, or obey, the commandments of God regardless of the consequences. We said that it was our privilege, according to the laws of the land, to worship God as we pleased, and no man had any business to interfere with us. After meeting they were perfectly docile and soon returned home. The night past quietly.
July 21, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints. At seven o’clock a.m. we started and traveled seven miles, then camped for the remainder of the day and night. We did our washing. Our sick are improved, and the Saints that remain generally manifest a good spirit. Yesterday some turned back, six in number.
July 23, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning the Saints arose in good spirits and started their journey. The weak are getting strong. The lame and aged get along exceedingly well. About twelve o’clock a.m. Sister Mary Williams, aged 50 years, was taken up from the side of the way insensible. At first she was supposed to be overcome with the heat. After this, it was ascertained that she had been eating a quantity of green plums and crabapples. She died about five o’clock p.m. At dark having laid by, in consequence of the excessive heat, several hours in the middle of the day, we pitched our tents. All arrived safe in camp, although somewhat fatigued by the journey and the heat, though in good spirits.
July 24, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we moved about one mile ahead, made a coffin for the corpse of Sister Mary Williams, put it in, and buried it in a gentile burial ground. I got some blacksmithing done, sixty-five cents worth. Several in camp are severely ill. Our rations are very short, viz. 10 ounces flour per one day, 10 ounces pork per 28 days. Also short rations of tea, coffee, sugar, rice and apples. It is not enough. There is some complaining. The inhabitants are generally very kind, but others manifest none of the spirit.
July 25, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we started early. We had a cool breeze of wind all day. We traveled about 12 or 14 miles and camped by a small creek (Bear Creek) that is destitute of wood. This afternoon the Sheriff of the county came to search our wagons for women, that they said a man in Brooktin accused us of having. They searched our wagons and went off satisfied that it was not so.
July 26, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Last evening some persons came in hearing of the camp and commenced singing bawdy songs, then called over some names and commenced singing again and going away until the sound died in the distance. We heard no more of them. This morning at four o’clock we arose at the sound of the bugle, as usual. We got our breakfast and commenced preparing to start. About this time it commenced to rain. This made very heavy traveling and much fatigue. Sister Cooper fainted by the way. We traveled about eleven miles and camped for the night on Sugar Creek.
July 27, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River. This morning we moved five miles and camped on this creek for the day. A goodly number of the citizens came to new our camp and hear preaching. A few ruffians also came. One of them picked up a hatchet and put it into his pocket. This caused some angry words. During the day and evening they made great threats of disturbing us, but they did not put their threats into execution. We were prepared to defend ourselves. Afternoon I preached to an attentive congregation. A good spirit prevailed.
July 28, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, two miles from Nuton, Iowa. This afternoon we have had a very hilly road. We passed through Nuton about four o’clock p.m. By the appearances, one would suppose that the inhabitants of the town and surrounding country were roadside to see us pass. We had been informed that the inhabitants were prepared to mob us as we passed, or were encamped; but, we passed through fearlessly, and no one molested us but gazed with apparent surprise. We traveled fourteen miles.
July 29, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River, Iowa. Today we traveled 12 miles. The roads were good. Some of the Saints are ailing, sore-footed and lame, but generally manifest a good spirit.
July 30, 1856, Wednesday, Camp of the Saints, Skunk River, Iowa. About eleven o’clock last evening Brother Hurren’s daughter, aged two weeks, departed this life. Her death was caused by the canker. This morning we buried her, then started and traveled to Fort DeMoine twenty miles. Many of the Saints were nearly overdone by the long march. We did not get into camp until after dark.
July 31, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Walnut Creek, Iowa. This morning we moved from Fort DeMoine to a mile out and camped until afternoon, then traveled four miles more. Here a large number of ruffians came determined to disturb our camp. We kept a strong guard and no one entered our camp. They dispersed about twelve o’clock.
August 1, 1856, Friday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. Today we traveled about twelve miles. We intended to go twenty, but the march was too long. Some of the aged and infirmed went forward several miles and were obliged to come back. We sent the mule team after them.
August 2, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Middle Coon River, Iowa. Today we traveled sixteen miles. The people are generally healthy.
August 3, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, South Skunk, Iowa. At four o’clock this morning the Saints in camp were called up. They got breakfast, attended prayers and at seven o’clock were on our way again. We traveled ten miles and camped about twelve o’clock. Here we remained and rested the remaining part of the day. We had many visitors, male and female citizens of the country. They were very civil.
August 4, 1856, Monday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. At four o’clock a.m. we were called up. We had breakfast, had prayers and at half past six were on our way. We marched seventeen miles and encamped by a small creek. There was little timber, except a few willows which served to make fires for cooking. Just before camping we had a little rain.
August 7, 1856, Thursday, Camp of the Saints, Iowa. This morning we all arose early, had breakfast, attended prayers and started. We traveled seven miles to a small village called Indian Town. We drove through about a mile and took dinner. Here we met with a brother from Pennsylvania by the name of Joseph Seltcer. He gave Brothers Willey, Atwood, Woodard, Chislet, Cox and myself dinner. He is strong in the faith and intends to dispose of his property and gather with the Saints this fall. From here we traveled six miles and encamped by a small creek. There was sufficient brush for cooking. As we passed through Indian Town several of the Saints stopped and purchased some necessary provisions. Among these was Brother I. Smith who in making change accidentally left his purse with six sovereigns, one Mexican dollar, one half-dollar, and one ten cent piece in it. Endeavors were made by search warrant to obtain it, but failed. This operation detailed Elder Woodard and others with the mule team in town all night.
August 9, 1856, Saturday, Camp of the Saints, Cass Creek, Iowa. This morning, as usual, we arose early, had breakfast, attended prayers and were on our way at quarter after seven o’clock a.m. We traveled ten miles to Silver Creek and dined. Here Brother Garner, his daughter and son left us. His wife remained and traveled with us. From this place we went to Cass Creek six miles further and encamped for the night. This afternoon we had a small shower of rain.
August 10, 1856, Sunday, Camp of the Saints, Musket Creek, Iowa. Today we remained in camp until four o’clock p.m. Then we started and traveled ten miles and encamped on this creek at dark. This afternoon Brother Garner, with his son and daughter, returned and desired to go on with us. He said that he was sorry and should ask forgiveness for he had been wrong and would do better for the future. Upon these considerations, I consented to take him along. He had endeavored with great inducements to persuade his wife to stop with him. He was unable to do so. This, I believe, to be the greatest cause of his wishing to continue with us.
August 11, 1846, Monday, Camp of the Saints, Florance, Nebraska Territory. This morning we arose early, got our breakfast, attended prayers and started. After traveling about three miles we came to Bluff City. Here, like all other towns through which we have passed, the people thronged the street sides and gazed upon us with apparent great surprise. They were civil, except a few fellows who endeavored to make sport of us, the crippled and lame not excepted. They were reprimanded by the better chaps. Here we met Elder McGaw, the Emigrating Agent at Florance. As he returned to Florance he came to a house near which some of our company had stopped for refreshments. Here some of the gentiles and apostates commenced to abuse the Saints and curse the handcart system and those that instituted it. Brother McGaw stood in defense of the system. Saints and servants. Consequently got into a fist fight with them. He whipped one or two of them, but received no material injury to himself except getting his hair well pulled. We moved to the Missouri River, ferried over and encamped just after dark. The last handcart company left here for Salt Lake about three weeks since.
August 12, 1856, Tuesday, Camp of the Saints, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today we commenced preparing for our journey and ascertaining who wishes to go on this fall and who wishes to remain here. Many are going to stop. Others are faltering and I myself am not in favor of, but much opposed to, taking women and children through when they are destitute of clothing, when we all know that we are bound to be caught in the snow and severe cold weather long before we reach the valley. I have expressed my feelings, in part, to Brothers McGaw, Willey and Atwood. Bother Atwood said to me last night, that since he had been a member of this Church, with all of his experience, he had never been placed in a position where things appear so dark to him, as it does to undertake to take this company through at this late season of the year.
August 13, 1856, Wednesday. Florance. Nebraska Territory. Today we continued preparations for starting. Evening we held meeting in camp. Brother Willey exhorted the Saints to go forward regardless of suffering even to death. After he had spoken, he gave me the opportunity of speaking. I said to him that if I spoke I must speak my mind, let it cut where it would. He said certainly to do so. I then related to the Saints the hardships that we should have to endure. I said that we were liable to have to wade in snow up to our knees and shovel at night, lay ourselves in a thin blanket and lie on the frozen ground without a bed. I said that it was not like having a wagon that we could go into and wrap ourselves in as much as we like and lay down. “No,” said I, “we are without wagons, destitute of clothing and could not carry it if we had it. We must go as we are. The handcart system I do not condemn. I think it preferable to unbroken oxen and experienced teamsters. The lateness of the season was my only objection to leaving this point for the mountains at this time. I spoke warmly upon the subject, but spoke truth, and the people, judging from appearance and expressions, felt the force of it. (However, the most of them determined to go forward, if the authorities say so.) Elder Willey then spoke again in reply to what I had said, evidently dissatisfied. He said that the God that he served was a God that was able to save to the uttermost. He said that was the God that he served, and he wanted no Job’s comforters with him. I then said that what I had said was the truth, and if Elder Willey did not want me to act in the place where I am, he is at full liberty to place another man in my stead. I would not think hard of him for it, But, I did not care what he said about Job’s comforters, I had spoken nothing but the truth and he knew it. Elder Atwood then spoke mildly and to the purpose. He said that he had been listening to what had been said. He exhorted the Saints to pray to God and get a revelation and know for themselves whether they should go or stay, for it was their privilege to know for themselves. The meeting was dismissed, all manifesting a good feeling and spirit.
August 14, 1856, Thursday, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today continued preparing for our journey. This morning I met Brothers George Grand and Vancott. I was glad to see them. They have been a few days dam the river on business and returned last evening.
August 15, 1856, Friday, Florance, Nebraska Territory. Today we continued preparations for starting. I wrote a letter to my brother Alanson. Evening we held meeting. Elders McGaw, Kimble, Grant, Vancott addressed the Saints, exhorting them to go forward regardless of the consequences.
August 16, 1856, Saturday, Little Papaw, Nebraska. This afternoon at four o’clock the first and second hundreds moved out five miles to this creek.
August 17, 1856, Sunday, Little Papaw, Nebraska. This morning I wrote a letter to my brother Alanson in Illinois and one to Joseph Bouton in Connecticut. I then went back to town with six men and got thirty-seven beef and milk cows. Our wagons are loaded with thirty-five and forty hundred of provisions, and we yet want twenty-five hundred or more and have no wagon, nor can we purchase one to haul it in.
August 18, 1856, Monday, Big Papaw, Nebraska. This morning Brother McGaw and William Kimble came and supped with a few of the Saints. At four o’clock we moved on to this creek five miles. Brother McGaw and Kimble accompanied us to this place, then returned.
August 19, 1856, Tuesday, This morning we moved on and ferried over the water and drove on about two miles and encamped. We left a cow behind this morning that she might find her calf which she had hidden. We left a man to bring her up. He came away and left both cow and calf.
August 20, 1856, Wednesday. This morning I took the mule and went back twelve miles to get the above-mentioned cow, but not the calf. At two o’clock p.m. we moved on twelve miles to the Plat. The weather denotes a storm. It rained a little. We met some emigrants from California. They did not come through Salt Lake City.
August 21, 1856, Thursday, Plat River. Today we traveled up the Plat bottom to another bend in the river for twelve miles. The grass was high. The roads were sandy and the weather very warm. At one o’clock we arrived at the river much fatigued. Here we took refreshments, divided the cows to each hundred, and at six o’clock started. We drove four or five miles and encamped without wood or water.
August 22, 1856, Friday, Plat River. This morning we started at sunrise. We traveled four or five miles to Shell Creek. There we took breakfast, bought a few articles of a man by the name of Isaac Albertson, then across the bottom to another bend in the Plat, a distance of twelve or fifteen miles. We arrived about six o’clock p.m. and encamped for the night.
August 23, 1856, Saturday, Soap Fork. Today we ferried the Soap Fork.
August 24, 1856, Sunday, Soap Fork. Today we traveled fifteen miles, camped by this river; caught some fish.
August 25, 1856, Monday, Soap Fork. This morning three cows were missing. Brother Griffins stopped back for them. He found only one. Ye traveled fifteen miles, encamped just at sunset, Just before this, we had a small shower of rain.
August 26, 1856, Tuesday, Soap Fork. This morning all had moved off the ground, when I observed that the king bolt of the last wagon was broken. This detained us until nine o’clock a.m. We then moved on and overtook the company. After traveling about twelve miles we encamped on this River. This evening I caught a fine mess of catfish.
August 27, 1856, Wednesday, Soap Fork. This morning we left the Soap Fork at twelve o’clock. We came to some wells, from this over sandy roads to a pond of poor water, having traveled about fifteen miles, we encamped. Captain Bunker’s Company passed us.
August 28, 1856, Thursday, Wood River. Today we crossed Privy Creek about twelve o’clock, From this point Brother Siler and I went in search of buffalo. We saw four and shot at them, but got none. The handcarts and teams moved on to Wood River some eight or ten miles. Brother Siler and I joined the carts about two miles from the River. The team did not get to camp until after dark. They left old Brother Haly behind a mile and a half or two miles distant. They sought for him, but in vain. He lay out all night and encountered a heavy rainstorm.
August 29, 1856, Friday, Wood River. This morning all healthy men in camp were requested by Brother Willey to go in search for Brother Haly. We found him about a mile and a half from camp, wet and cold but in good spirits. We started at twelve o’clock a.m. We traveled five or six miles and came upon 800 Pawnee Indians. They are hunting buffalos. Yesterday they killed 90. We bought some meat of them. They informed us of a A. Babel’s teamster being killed by the Cheyenes. A woman that was with them was carried captive and her child, six months old, killed. The U.S. Troops followed and killed some of them.
August 30, 1856, Saturday, Wood River. This morning the Indians came to the camp early to trade more. At seven o’clock a.m. we were underway. At twelve a.m. we stopped to dine. Here we saw two oxen in the yoke at a distance. Brother I. Elder and myself went on horseback and got them. They were very winded. We had a hard run for them. From this we traveled until near six p.m. and encamped, having traveled about fifteen miles. A. Babel, whose teamsters were killed and who stopped back on business has just overtaken us. I have not spoken to him yet.
August 31, 1856, Sunday, Drycreek and Platte River. This morning Mr. A. Babel left us and went to Fort Carney. He brought an elderly sister from Florance intending to take her to the Valley, but the robbery committed upon him by the Indians decided him against taking her. He hired Brother Siler to take her. We traveled eighteen miles. Had a good camping.
September 1, 1856, Monday, Buffalo Creek. Today we traveled about eighteen miles. This evening we killed a buffalo and a cow for beef. The cow was shot eleven times before she fell. I have never seen a beast so murdered before. Brother Willey had some disagreeable words concerning brother Silers driving his teams after the handcarts and in front of the handcart teams. I objected to his driving there, it being to use as a traveling camp for our sick. Brother Willey says he shall drive there. He has driven there from Florance except two days.
September 2, 1856, Tuesday, Buffalo Creek. Today we traveled thirteen miles, encamped at four o’clock. Plenty of buffalo in sight. Some of the brethren shot at them but got none.
September 3, 1856, Wednesday, near Chutak Lake. This morning just after daylight Sister Ingra, aged 75 years, who had been sick and deranged, and had been drawn in a handcart from Iowa City, died. She suffered much. The camp moved on while Elder Willey and others remained behind and burled her. At twelve o’clock the brethren killed two buffalo near the road. We took the meat on handcarts. Traveled sixteen miles and encamped without wood. Cooked our food with buffalo chips (dry dung). Brother I. Elder and I went on horseback and endeavored to get a buffalo calf or cow. The old bulls would not let us have any. They formed themselves in battle array, ready to receive their enemy. Their large herds are to be seen in all directions. We did not get to camp until after dark
September 4, 1856, Thursday, Near Chutah Lake. Sometime last night thirty of our best working cattle left us. We had a guard around then, but no one knows when or where they went. I and a number of the brethren, spent the day unsuccessfully hunting them. As I passed down the river I saw Brother Smoot’s train on the opposite side south. We had an awful storm last night.
September 5, 1856, Friday, Near Chutah Lake. Today we also searched for the cattle without success. Brothers Atwood, Siler and Jolts visited Brother Smoot’s company across the Platte. I came to camp at dark and found Brothers Smoot and Rockwell. I was glad to see them. They stopped with us all night.
September 6, 1856, Saturday, Near Chutah Lake. This morning Brothers Elder and Smith started back toward Florance after the stray oxen. The remainder of us removed the camp, half at a time, about three miles. About three o’clock p.m. Brothers Smoot and Rockwell left us to overtake their train which is supposed to be moving fifteen miles ahead.
September 7, 1856, Sunday, Near Chutah Lake. This morning four men from California were seen encamped near us. Brother Willey, myself and others visited them. The names of three of them are as follows: James H. Hurn (He said they had left a horse about eighteen miles back and I could have him if I could find him.), Franklin Hawkins, and John Hawkins. They were short of provisions. They intended to go to Varney, then to Missouri, We spent a part of the day in a meeting, preaching to the people. The remainder of the day was spent in repairing our handcarts and yoking unbroken cows.
September 8, 1856, Monday, Platte River. This morning a discharged soldier, from Laramie, came into camp and reported two families from Salt Lake killed by the Indians. One of their names was Thomas Margrets. They were all well known by many of the Saints in this camp. We put from our wagons on to our handcarts about forty hundred of flour, hitched up our teams and got underway about eleven o’clock. We went ten miles and camped by the Platte. Numbers of the sick did not get in until sometime afterwards. Our wild cows broke extraordinarily well. Surely the hand of the Lord is with us yet.
September 9, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. This morning we started rather late. We had heavy sandy roads, traveled about twelve miles and encamped at four o’clock p.m. on Skunk Creek. Our teams, as well as the Saints, were very tired.
September 10, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. Today we had sandy roads. We traveled fourteen miles and encamped at the Cold Springs.
September 11, 1856, Thursday, Platte River. Today we have had good roads. Crossed several creeks, over which the most of the women and children were carried by Brothers Willey, Atwood and others. All in good spirits and but few are sick. The flour on some of the carts draws very hard.
September 12, 1856, Friday, North Bluff Fork. This morning we started at half past eight and traveled eleven miles; crossed this creek about four o’clock p.m. Soon after this Brothers F. D. Richards, D. Spencer, S. Welock, Wm. Kimble and others came up with us; also, Brothers Elder and Smith, who went in search for our cattle. It was a joyful meeting. No one has heard of, or seen, our cattle. This evening, by moonlight, we held meeting. President Richards and otters spoke and congratulated the Saints on their arduous journey and the blessings they should hereafter receive. We had a good time
September 13, 1856, Saturday. This morning, agreeable to Brother Richards’ request, and Brother Willey’s orders, we arose at four o’clock, had breakfast, and made ready for starting at seven o’clock a.m. At this time our tears being hitched to our wagons and our handcarts packed ready for starting. Very unexpected to me, I perceived a meeting of the Saints was called, not on the campground as usual, but a short distance one side. I supposed it was for prayers. After singing and prayers Brother Richards commenced to speak, and I soon perceived that the meeting was called in consequence of the wrong impression made by my expressing myself so freely at Florance concerning our crossing the plains so late in the season. The impression left was that I condemned the handcart scheme, which is very wrong. I never conveyed such an idea, nor felt to do so, but, quite to the contrary, I am in favor of it. Also, the meeting was called, more particular in consequence of someone, unknown to me, informing Brother Richards of the disagreeable words that took place between Brother Willey and myself concerning Brother Siler’s teams traveling between the handcarts and fund wagons, which I supposed was settled. When I asked Brother Willey’s and the Saints’ forgiveness for all that I had said and done wrong, Brother Richards reprimanded me sharply. Brother Willey said that I had manifested a bad spirit from Iowa City. This is something unknown to me and something he never before expressed. I had always the best of feelings toward him and supposed he had toward me until now, except in the case of Brother Siler above-mentioned. After meeting President Richards and company left us intending to arrive in Salt Lake City in time for October Conference. Agreeable to his council, we crossed the river on to the south side and encamped. The water was shallow, but it required a strong team to draw our wagons through the sandy bed of the river, a mile distant.
September l4, 1856, Monday, Platte River. Today we traveled up the Platte bottom twelve miles and camped by the River again.
September 15, 1856, Monday, Platte Hills. This forenoon we traveled up the bottom on good roads. Afternoon we commenced to ascend the bluffs. The ascent was sand; it caused very hard pulling. As we arose the summit, three Indians came to us. They were apparently friendly and said that the Cheyenes and Sioux would kill us all. They said that they had some five days ago fell upon a large train. What damage was done we did not ascertain, and we have only the Indians to confirm it at best. At sundown we camped around a small buffalo wallow which had been recently filled with rain. We were all much fatigued with our day’s journey. We chained our oxen to the wagon for there was neither bread nor water, and we had some fears of the Indians. We set a strong guard. About two o’clock a .m. an alarm was made. I immediately got out of bed, but seen nor heard nothing of Indians. Some said they saw one and heard the voices of others.
September 16, 1856, Tuesday, Platte Bluffs. This morning the camp was called by the sound of the bugle at three o’clock and moved before daylight. We traveled some ten miles, in which distance we descended through a rough canyon to the Platte where we took breakfast at ten o’clock a.m. Here we remained until two p.m. when we moved up the river three or four miles and encamped for the night. Both people and teams are much fatigued by the heavy sandy roads.
September 17, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. This morning, just before the camp got underway, a cold and strong wind arose from the northwest. This, together with the heavy sand, made our progress very slow and extremely laborious. Several were obliged to leave their carts and they, with the infirmed, could scarcely get into camp. Our teams also, at times, could scarcely move. We traveled about ten miles.
September 18, 1856, Thursday, Ash Hollow. This morning we got underway as usual and traveled four or five miles to where the road ascended the bluffs. There we dined, then doubled our teams, and ascended the long, steep hill. Immediately we reached the summit, we commenced descending into a hollow and encamped at the mouth by the Platte. At dinner Sister Reade, who Brother Babel left with us, was missing. It was ascertained that she was ahead, but she is not in camp and no one knows where she is. She is bound to stay out overnight.
September 19, 1856, Friday, Mouth of Ash Hollow. Today we remained in camp to repair our carts. Some were broken and others have the axels badly worn. Brother Chislet, with a company of brethren, went in search of Sister Reade. About eleven o’clock a.m. they returned and reported they had followed her footsteps seven or eight miles, mingled with Indian footsteps and suppose that the Indians have gotten her. President Willey was not fully satisfied and determined to go himself. He chose me and ten others. We found her steps as reported, but I was satisfied that she had not been disturbed by Indians. She had taken the road up Ash Hollow, going back to South Fork of the Platte, About five miles out we found her steps going back, but it soon left the road. Dark came and we returned to camp. When we arrived we found she had just been brought in by some of the brethren who had gone to the canyon for timber. She was nearly exhausted, having been thirty-six hours without food and water. The weather is extremely warm.
September 20, 1856, Saturday, Platte River. At two o’clock p.m. having repaired our carts, we started and traveled six or eight miles. The air is cool and this evening a mist of rain commenced to fall northward.
September 21, 1856, Sunday, Platte River. Last night was very rainy and disagreeable, also wet and cold today. Many are sick and stopping back to get in the wagons. The roads are very sandy. We could scarcely move. Sister Season’s little boy, two years old, died at eleven o’clock last night. The weather is yet cold and damp. Traveled twelve miles
September 22, 1856, Monday, Platte River. This forenoon a mist of rain was still falling. Afternoon the clouds broke a little. The rain stopped and it became a little warmer. We have traveled about twelve miles today. Brother Empy departed this life at half past one p.m. One of his hands and arm was nearly covered with sores. I should suppose hereditary. He has been having the ague some time past, but no one thought him dangerous.
September 23, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. This morning was cold and foggy. The Saints slow in rising and getting breakfast early, notwithstanding Brother Willey’s repeated order to arise at the sound of the bugle (daylight). Apparently not realizing the necessity of our making as much distance as possible in order to reach the Valley before too severe cold weather, some complain of hard treatment, because we urge then along. Many hang on to the wagons. This afternoon we came in sight of Chimney Rock and camped within ten miles of it. Have traveled sixteen miles.
September 24, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River near Chimney Rock. Today we traveled sixteen miles. Camped near Chimney Rock. I thought we were nearer last night to it than we are. We have fair weather.
September 25, 1856, Thursday, Platte River. Today we traveled about sixteen miles and at five o’clock encamped a short distance above Rubadore’s Last Trading Post. Just before we arrived at the post we found and caught a large dark bay horse. He is very thin in flesh and has been left, no doubt, by some company passing to or from Great Salt Lake, or California.
September 26, 1856, Friday, Platte River. Today we traveled fourteen miles without water. Some of our oxen nearly gave out. We camped at Rubadore’s Old Trading Post. When we stopped at twelve o’clock a.m., Sister Ann Briant, who had been ill for sometime, but not thought dangerous, was found dead in the wagon in a sitting posture, apparently asleep. Her age is seventy years next month.
September 27, 1856, Saturday, Platte River. Today we traveled about twelve miles. The old appear to be failing considerably.
September 28, 1856, Sunday, Platte River, Twenty Miles From Laramie. Today we traveled sixteen miles. At twelve o’clock we met a company from Salt Lake going to the States. I think mostly apostates. Benjamin Brackenbary was with them. They said Babbitt was killed by the Indians. Just before camping some soldiers that were camped near the road took the horse that we had caught.
September 29, 1856, Monday, Five Miles Below Fort Laramie. Today we traveled about fourteen miles. Brother Woodard and Brother Elder went to the fort. Brother Richards has no cattle provided for us here and no other provisions made.
September 30, 1856, Tuesday, Fort Laramie. Today we moved on six miles, camped two miles from the fort.
October 1, 1856, Wednesday, Platte River. This morning Brother David Reader was found dead in his bed. He has been ill for some time. He had no particular disease, but of debility. He was a good man and a worthy member of the Church. Brother Siler and company stopped here to recruit and strengthen his teams, and to join the first wagon company that arrives here bound for the Valley. Our camp moved on, and Brothers Willey, Atwood, myself and others went to the Fort and purchased provisions. They are extremely costly. I stopped all night with Brother Siler and company.
October 2, 1856, Thursday, Early This Morning. I returned to the Fort to make the sale of my watch. It cost me $20 and I sold it for $11 and purchased a pair of $6 boots and other articles. I then proceeded to overtake the camp. On my way I met a company of Elders from the Valley bound to the different nations of the earth to preach the gospel. I met Brother P. P. Pratt in camp. He spoke cheeringly to the Saints. Today Brother Reade died of a disease of the heart. He is age 64.
October 3, 1856, Friday, Platte River. Today we left the River, crossed over the hills; it is said to be twenty-two miles to food and water. We traveled until eight o’clock p.m. and camped within a half of a mile of a spring, but no feed for our cattle. We were all fatigued. Brother Ingra, aged 68, died just after we camped.
October 4, 1856, Saturday. This morning at ten o’clock we started and traveled about five miles to a small creek and encamped. We took an estimate of our provisions and reduced our rations to twelve ounces per day. The Pacific Springs is the only place that we are sure of meeting supplies. Brother Benjamine Culley, aged 61 years, and David Gadd, aged 2 years, died. They were buried at dawn. Some stealing is practiced by some, consequently, we put all the provisions into three wagons and placed a guard over them.
October 5, 1856, Sunday. Eight o’clock this morning we got underway. Have good roads, traveled about sixteen miles and camped by the Platte. The weather is very fine.
October 6, 1856, Monday, Platte River. Today we traveled sixteen miles. Our rations are now reduced to an average of twelve ounces of flour per head. We are not certain of supplies before arriving at the Pacific Springs.
October 7, 1856, Tuesday, Platte River. Today we traveled fourteen miles. The weather is good.
October 8, 1856, Wednesday, Deer Creek. This morning when we arose, we found the best ox on our train dead. In the weak state of our team, the loss impaired us much. At nine o’clock a.m. we moved. We traveled fifteen miles. Our old people are nearly all failing fast. A four-mule team, an express from Laramie, is camping near us. They passed us this afternoon
October 9, 1856. Today we moved sixteen miles.
October 10, 1856, Friday, Last Crossing of the Platte. At about twelve o’clock we passed the Platte Bridge. Here we got thirty-seven buffalo robes, which President Richards purchased for us. We moved on five miles, crossed the river and encamped. Our teams are very weak.
October 11, 1856, Saturday, Mineral Springs. Today we traveled twelve miles. Three of our working cows gave out and one died. The remainder of our oxen were nearly overcome.
October 12, 1856, Sunday, Small Creek. Today we left out of the yoke some of our cows that were nearly exhausted. Last night our cattle had good feed, and they traveled much better today than yesterday. One of the cows that was overcome with work could not be gotten within a mile of camp. Brother Willey ordered several of the brethren to go back and kill her for the people to eat (if they wanted it). They struck her twice in the head with an axe. She got up and ran into camp, where she was shot and dressed. The people have sharp appetites.
October 13, 1856, Monday, Greenwood Creek. Today we have traveled thirteen miles. The nights are cold. The days are warm and pleasant.
October 14, 1856, Tuesday, Independence Rock. Today we traveled twelve miles. We crossed the Sweet Water River at the second bridge.
October 15, 1856, Wednesday, Sweet Water. Today we traveled fifteen and a half miles. Last night Caroline Reeder, aged seventeen years, died and was buried this morning. The people are getting weak and falling very fast. A great many are sick. Our teams are also failing fast, and it requires great exertion to make any progress. Our rations were reduced last night, one quarter, bringing the men to ten ounces and the women to nine ounces. Some of the children were reduced to six and others to three ounces each.
October 16, 1856, Thursday, Sweet Water. This morning we had three deaths and one birth. We have traveled eleven miles today. Our oxen are much worn down and our loadings were used daily by the weak and sick.
October 17, 1856, Friday, Sweet Water. At two o’clock this morning Brother William Philpot died and was buried before we started. At ten o’clock the camp moved. We traveled ten miles and encamped at sunset.
October 18, 1856, Saturday, Fourth Crossing of the Sweet Water. Today we traveled eight miles; camped; killed a beef, and prepared for a sixteen mile drive to water. The air is cool, but fair.
October 19, 1856, Sunday, Fifth Crossing of the Sweet Water. At half past ten o’clock we started. In about one hour we encountered a very severely cold and blustering snowstorm. It lasted for one hour. The poorly clad women and children suffered much. At twelve o’clock we net Brother Wheelock and company who have come to our relief. He reported forty wagon loads of flour one day in advance of us. This was joyful news to us for we had eaten the last pound of flour, having only six small beefs and 400 pounds of biscuits to provision over 400 people. After a short meeting in which Brothers Wheelock and I. Young spoke cheeringly to the Saints, we moved on. The wind continued strong and cold. The children, the aged, and infirmed fell back to the wagons until they were so full that all in them were extremely uncomfortable. Brother Knockles, aged 66 years, died during the day in a handcart hitched behind one of the wagons. Sister Smith and Daniel Osborn, age eight years, died in the wagons. They had been ill for some tune. The carts arrived at the River at dark. One wagon, it being dark, took another road and did not get into camp until eleven o’clock p.m. They were nearly exhausted and so were myself and teamsters.
October 20, 1856, Monday, Sixth Crossing of the Sweet Water. This morning when we arose, we found several inches of snow on the ground and is yet snowing. The cattle and people are so much reduced with short food and hard work that except we get assistance, we surely cannot move far in this snow. Brothers Willey and Copt and Elder started on horseback about ten o’clock to search for the wagons that Wheelock reported a short distance in our advance. This morning we issued the last bread, or breadstuffs, in our possession. It continued snowing severely during the day. We expected Brother Willey would return this evening, but he has not come.
October 21, 1856, Tuesday, Cross of the Sweet Water. This morning about eleven o’clock Brother Willey returned, with Brother George Grant, having a good supply of teams, wagons and provisions, and some clothing. A desirable relief. Here we buried several persons.
October 22, 1856, Wednesday. We prepared for starting and commenced moving about twelve o’clock. Brother Grant took a good portion of the teams and continued his journey to meet Brother Martin’s company. Brother William Kimble took charge of our company. We traveled about ten miles and camped at the foot of what is called the Rock Ridge. I had charge of the teams. Because of their reduced strength and heavy loads, a 1arge number of sick and children were in the wagons. I did not arrive in camp until late at night. The wind blew bleak and cold and firewood very scarce. The Saints were obliged to spread their light bedding on the snow, and in this cold state endeavored to obtain a little rest. Sister Philpot died about ten o’clock p.m., leaving two fatherless girls. Several others died during the night.
October 23, 1856, Thursday Morning. We buried our dead, got up our teams and about nine o’clock a.m. commenced ascending the Rocky Ridge. This was a severe day. The wind blew hard and cold. The ascent was some five miles long and some places steep and covered with deep snow. We became weary, set down to rest, and some became chilled and commenced to freeze. Brothers Atwood, Woodard and myself remained with the teams. They being perfectly loaded down with the sick and children, so thickly stacked I was fearful some would smother. About ten or eleven o’clock in the night we came to a creek that we did not like to attempt to cross without help, it being full of ice and freezing cold. Leaving Brothers Atwood and Woodard with the teams, I started to the camp for help. I met Brother Willey coming to look for us. He turned for the camp, as he could do no good alone. I passed several on the road and arrived in camp after about four miles of travel. I arrived in camp, but few tents were pitched and men, women, and children sat shivering with cold around their small fires. Some time lapsed when two teams started to bring up the rear. Just before daylight they returned, bringing all with them, some badly frozen, some dying and some dead. It was certainly heart rendering to hear children crying for mothers and mothers crying for children. By the time I got them as comfortably situated as circumstances would admit (which was not very comfortable), day was dawning. I had not shut my eyes for sleep, nor lain down. I was nearly exhausted with fatigue and want of rest.
October 24, 1856, Friday. This morning found us with thirteen corpses for burial. These were all put into one grave. Some had actually frozen to death. We were obliged to remain in camp, move the tents and people behind the willows to shelter them from the severe wind which blew enough to pierce us through. Several of our cattle died here.
October 25, 1856, Saturday. We commenced our march again. From this I have not been able to keep a daily journal, but nothing of much note transpired, except the people died daily. Theophilus Cox died on the morning of the 7th of November, on the Webber, was carried to Cottonwood Grove, East Canyon Creek, and there buried. We overtook Brother Smoot’s company in emigration on the 9th. That afternoon we arrived in Great Salt Lake City and deposited the people among the Saints, where they were made comfortable.
