Lydia Knight's History The First Book of the Noble Women's Lives

CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VII. In the early morning of Wednesday, 31st of Oct., the flag of truce spoken of in the previous chapter was sent out, and the traitor soon returned to consummate his horrible plan. The day was spent by the anxious mother in work and prayer. Often she bent her knees in humble petition for the safety of her children and the brethren concealed in her house that they might not be found. Newel was away with the men who were trying to devise means to protect their homes and families. In the afternoon a neighbor came in to say, "Joseph has gone out to the enemies' camp." "God protect him!" replied Lydia. "They, that is the Prophet, Brothers Rigdon and Pratt, Col. Wight and Brother Robinson, have gone along with Col. Hinkle to see if something can't be done to prevent the carrying out of the exterminating order sent by Governor Boggs." "What exterminating order?" "Why didn't you hear that Governor Boggs, you remember the rascal, the one who headed the mob in Jackson Co., had sent an order to this host of robbers outside the town, telling them that they are to wipe out every one of us? Giving them authority as an organized millitia. Well you must have staid close at home last night not to have heard that!" "Yes," said Lydia, "I was very busy all night." "So were we all! I am told that Major-general Wallack and General Doniphan were ordered to raise a thousand men and join this General Clark who has command of the whole, and this precious trio are now trying to make arrangements to murder us all in cold blood! This is indeed a land of freedom! Why, Sister Knight, I feel just as though my blood was boiling oil when I think of this inhuman outrage." "Be calm, sister, let your heart rather be filled with humblest prayer, that God will turn aside their wicked purposes." The indignant neighbor departed, with many wishes that "God would exterminate them root and branch if they did not speedily repent." Not long after the woman had gone, the air was filled by shouts and hideous sounds from the mobbers' camp. Looking anxiously from the window, Lydia saw her husband hurrying to the house. On entering he cried, "Lydia, Lydia, pray as you never prayed before. Our beloved Prophet is taken prisoner! The wretch who decoyed him out has betray his Prophet, his religion and his God! Listen to those awful sounds! May the God of Israel hold their lives as in His hand. My wife, these are bitter days." "Newel, I am full of weakness." "Do not go outside the house, for prowlers are around and will injure you if they find you in their power. I must go now, my girl. You know my very soul is bowed with prayer to God to preserve my wife and babes. Be brave as you always are, and I will come when I can and bring you word of what transpires." "Be careful, my husband, and I feel that we shall be protected." Once more the woman was left alone with her little ones and the brethren under her care. God and her own heart alone know the anxieties of the next few hours. But into her soul crept and brooded the sweet spirit that whispered to the troubled waves, "Be still." And she was calm. Oh, that awful night! Over every thing, into every house, down into the low places, high over the tree-tops sounded the piercing, shrieking yells of that blood-thirsty mob. The flesh would creep at the fiendish sounds, the heart would quiver with the fearful though that Joseph, the beloved one, was in their power. Ten thousand wolves could never make a sound so hideously inhuman, or so fiendishly triumphant as the yells and shouts that unceasingly arose from the throats of that murderous throng from evening shades till morning light. Were these men human? Oh yes. Were they civilized beings? Oh yes; there were seventeen ministers and nineteen commissioned officers, who led the mob. The night was spent by Lydia in one long, anxious prayer. The next morning, the 1st of November, dawned cool and bright. With the morning came Newel. He brought the sad news that the Patriarch and Brother Amasa Lyman were taken prisoners and removed to the enemy's camp. "Newel, how will this end? My heart is torn with anxious fears, and yet the Spirit tells me all will yet be well." "God grant it, Lydia," replied her husband. "What is the meaning of all this? Look from the window! Here is an army marching upon us. Good by and God protect you, I must go, for there is the signal for us to gather at the public square." So saying, he hastily snatched his rifle from the wall and rushed to the square, where the signal drum was beating long and loud. On arriving there he was commanded by Gen. Lucas to give up his arms. He replied, "Sir, my rifle is my own private property, no one has a right to demand it from me." "Lay down your arms, you rascal, or I will have you shot." Full of righteous indignation, the helpless man complied, seeing that many of his brethren were also disarmed. Their leaders were gone but they were true Saints. And were they not also free-born American citizens? As the men rushed into the public square they were all forced to obey the summary command "Give up your arms!" When all were assembled, they were compelled at the point of the bayonet to sign a deed of trust of all their (the "Mormons'") possessions to Gen. Lucas to defray the expenses of this unholy war. This unrighteous deed being accomplished, and all the men of the town being placed under guard, the mob swarmed out into the town, pillaging, foraging, insulting women and abusing little children. Stock were shot down and left on the streets to rot. Fields were destroyed, houses were searched, everything of any value was taken and any one who dared to remonstrate was brutally threatened with murder. Every house was searched for the men who were at the tragedy of Crooked river. At last three ruffians came to Lydia's door, and one who seemed to be the leader asked: "Have you any men in the house?" "You have our men under guard," answered the fearless woman. "Have you any man in the house?" "I tell you, my husband is on the public square a prisoner." "Have you any arms in the house?" "My husband took his rifle with him." The little children seeing the ferocious men, were frightened and commenced to cry. "Sir, go away from here, do you not see how frightened my little ones are?" "Well, have you no men or arms in the house?" "I tell you again my husband is a prisoner on the square, and he took his rifle with him." "Upon my word, at least you've got plenty of Mormon blood and to spare." So abruptly speaking he turned away and they all left the house, leaving the brave but trembling woman whispering to her children, "God rules!" The next morning, the sun arose on a scene of desolation. Hundreds of houseless, homeless beings huddled together as best they could, weeping, sorrowing and sad, but peaceful and full of the testimony that all suffering was in Christ Jesus, and He would be their helper and comforter. Many were without food to eat, but those who had some, shared with those who had not. The Prophets and leaders were gone, but ways must be devised to get out of the state. Only a few short months were given them in which to leave their desolate homes and corn-fields. That day the leaders came into the town heavily guarded, and were marched to the square. There they were permitted, after much pleading, to see their distracted families. It was ascertained from the Prophet that a court-martial had been held, and the prisoners were tried without being allowed to be present or to have any one to defend them, and were sentenced to be shot the next day. Gen. Doniphan, who was a lawyer, told the mob he would have nothing do do with such unlawful high-handed proceedings, and in disgust left them, ordering all of his men to take up their march homeward. This circumstance made the robbers hesitate, and accordingly it was determined to remove the prisoners to Independence. Not long were they permitted to be with their friends, but were taken back to camp. The next morning the Prophet and Patriarch, Sidney Rigdon, P. P. Pratt, Lyman Wight, Amasa Lyman and George W. Robinson were started off for Independence. CHAPTER VIII. Newel set to work to try and assist the homeless ones and feed the poor. To this labor he devoted himself through the Winter. In February he determined to go, with the rest of his brethren who were leaving the State, but did not know how it could be accomplished. "Lydia, how are we to manage? "The mob have killed all my stock but one cow, and we can't very well ride her, or drive her alone." "Can you not make some turn with the cow so that some one will move us?" "Perhaps! At least I can try." After a time a man was found who consented to take them to the Mississippi river for the cow. Accordingly hasty preparations were made, and in the cold Winter, the snow piled up, sometimes to the hubs of the wagon, the husband took his wife and children a journey of two hundred miles. The snow was scraped away to make their beds, and the cold was ofttimes intense. Detained through unavoidable circumstances at a small place called Huntsville, they did not reach the river until the first part of May, crossing it and reaching the other side poor, destitute, but oh, so grateful to be once more free! Free to rest from travel and hardships! Free to lie down, and to rise up with their hearts and mouths full of God's praises! Free to live as their conscience prompted them, without the fear of mobs or persecutions! Once across the river, a low marshy plain covered with grass, stretched away for miles and miles. Here and there a few belts of timber served to relieve the monotony of the landscape, and down swept the waters of the king of American rivers. This was the sight that greeted the weary eyes of our travelers. A small settlement had been started at this place, on the river bank, but the settlers soon deserted it for its unhealthiness was too great to admit of any one living here in comfort for any length of time. One or two empty deserted houses stood here and there, and were soon taken possession of by the first comers. Our friends, like many others, camped out. They made themselves as comfortable as possible by sewing some of their bed-clothing and the wagon-cover together, thus forming a rude tent. What a picture this first settling of the place afterwards called Nauvoo must have been! A few houses scattered about, and everywhere tents, bush wickeups and rude shelters of every description dotting the grassy plain. The grass was green, but damp and moist. The water was plentiful and clear, but warm, and over all brooded the wings of the fatal miasma. One by one the families who had been driven from their peaceful homes, found their way across the river and settled here in peace. Brigham Young had taken charge of this moving host, and the poor were all carefully provided for and moved, through the indomitable energies of Brother Brigham. Joseph was still a prisoner, and so all this responsibility devolved upon the president of the Twelve. History and the grateful hearts of the Saints will testify how well that charge was executed. A few weeks served to show the people how deadly was the air arising from the swamps and marshes around about. The sick, infirm and aged were the first victims of the foul miasma. Then little children were prostrated. Fevers of all kinds contracted in malarious countries were very prevalent. Great numbers of the strong—men and women who had borne every hardship without flinching, lay down in their beds and succumbed to the terrible disease. Ague dragged his shivering, shaking length from door to door, and there were not sufficient strong ones left to bury the dead. Specters instead of men crept slowly about laying those who were sleeping the last sleep in their dreary graves. Pestilence and fever were seated at every fireside. Even Joseph who had escaped from his enemies and came to Nauvoo, soon lay prostrate in his house, and even his yard was filled with the sick, the dying and the dead. At last the spirit of the invincible Prophet rallied from this blow, and rising up by the power of God he commenced going about healing the sick. Hundreds were so healed; and as the brethren were healed they would arise and follow the Prophet continuing the glorious work. There was a change from this very day. The general health of the people began to improve. Lydia had managed to wait upon her own ailing child and those of her neighbors who were the most helpless, notwithstanding her health was far from being good. Pale and weak she ministered unto those around her until September, when, worn out with her heavy labors and her body weakened by over-exertion, disease fastened itself upon her and she was prostrated. For several days and nights she lay in a raging, burning fever, until it almost seemed as though her very flesh would be consumed upon her bones. One day she called her husband to her bed and said: "Newel, go and ask the Prophet to send me a handkerchief with his blessing." "My dear wife, I do not like to trouble Joseph. You have no idea how worn down he is. He has asked the brethren to spare him as much as possible, for these constant never-ceasing calls upon him are depriving him of all his strength. I hope, my dear, you will soon be better." The night came and passed and morning brought no relief to the weary sufferer. Again she called Newel to her and entreated him to go to the Prophet and get a handkerchief with his blessing. Newel went out, and in about half an hour returned, tied a handkerchief over her head saying: "There, Lydia, is a handkerchief." The sufferer experienced no relief from it, however, and rapidly grew worse. A doctor was brought to her, and he tried his best to rally her, but all in vain. Thus one week passed. One day Newel, seeing she was all but gone and was trying to speak to him, bent over her to catch the faint whisper, "Newel, I am all but done with my suffering; good-by, dear one. You must do the best you can with the children. I cannot last much longer." This was very brokenly whispered to the distracted man above her, who, as soon as she ceased, hurried away. Coming back soon, he called her; she knew him but was unable to reply. "Here, Lydia, here is a handkerchief from the Prophet Joseph. Oh my wife, the one I brought before was not from him, I so hated to trouble him. But see this is from Joseph, and he says your Heavenly Father shall heal you, and you shall be restored to life and health." The handkerchief was bound around her brow, and as it touched her head, the blessing sent with it, descended upon her; and over her and all through her was poured the spirit of healing. Sleep, so long a stranger to the poor afflicted one, closed her eye-lids in a quiet, restful, blessed slumber. The hours came and fled, and in the quiet of midnight she awoke, and was like one who had been in a dark, loathsome dungeon, and was again free in the open air and sunshine. In the morning the physician came, and when he saw his patient, he exclaimed: "Why, I never saw such a change in my life! That last medicine has worked like a charm, I wish I'd stayed and seen it operate. Her pulse is all right, her tongue is all right, and in fact she is comparatively a well woman." After the docter had praised up himself and his medicine to his heart's content, Newel quietly reached the bottle down from the shelf, and said: "Sir, there is the medicine you speak of. My wife has not tasted one drop of it." "But what's the meaning of all this change then?" "She has been healed by faith through the Prophet Joseph Smith." After studying some time over the matter the docter said: "Well it's a good thing to get well on any terms." The good docter soon after departed, as he plainly saw his services were no longer needed. He was not a "Mormon," although a kind, worthy man. That day Lydia arose and dressed herself, and went forth to her daily cares. She found her oldest boy, Samuel, well, and full of a desire to help all he could. The little fellow would take his tiny pail and go to the river, thus supplying the family with all the water needed. This was in the fall of '39, and her little girl was three years old. She also was well and trotting about the house at her baby plays. The babe James, was very ill. Fever had reduced him to a skeleton, and the mother's heart ached as she looked at his wasted body; but not once did she think of his dying. Newel was also stricken down after this, and a young girl, Newel's niece, Harriet, who lived with them. From one to the other went Lydia giving simple remedies, praying for them and doing all in her power to relieve their sufferings. Once in a while the neighbors would come in and try to help her all they could, although they had their own sick ones at home to attend. Whenever they did come, they would say to her: "Sister Knight, you can not keep that child; why do you cling so to him? You will displease our Father. Let him go, give him up, and his sufferings will be at an end." "Oh I cannot think of such a thing!" replied the quiet woman. "Father Smith said in my blessing that my heart should not be pained because of the loss of my children. And I cannot, let him go because I feel that it is not the Lord's will that I should part with him." On the Sunday following this, the child lay like a breathing skeleton. The skin drawn, the eyes glassy and the breath all but stopped. The mother knelt over him in an agony of watchfulness. "Oh Newel, what shall I do? He is sinking so fast. Tell me, advise me! I must do something, or he cannot live!" The husband looked sadly from the sick bed where he lay, at his little child, but with more sorrow in his eyes for his distracted wife, and at last said: "You can do no more. Give him up and ask God to soften this great blow to us both." "Give him up," cried the mother, "give up my boy to the arms of the destroyer! It is impossible. I cannot give him up." With burning eyes, but a determined heart she watched him through the long, silent hours of the night. The next morning early, the Prophet chanced to pass the house and Lydia ran out and asked him to come in and see her little child who was nigh unto death. He came in and going up to the child he was shocked at his appearance. "He is sick indeed. I will tell you one thing more to do, and if that does not save him, you will have to give him up." "I cannot give him up," the woman replied. Joseph looked at her, into her clear, calm, determined eyes, and over his face came a peculiar heavenly smile, a smile that was so glorious in its meaning, and said: "Sister Lydia, I do not think you will have to give him up." Then, after a moment's thought, "you must send for Father Geo. W. Harris; take some warm water and soap, wash your child from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; then have Father Harris annoint him with holy consecrated oil from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; and I think your child will live." Lydia lost no time in obeying his words, and when the blessing was over she had the joy of seeing her child revive and he was healed. On Thursday morning after, Joseph came in to see how the child was, and was pleased to find him restored to health. "Now, Sister Lydia," he remarked as he was going away, "should your babe take a relapse, you know what has healed it before, do the same again." That evening, the disease seemed to return and fasten itself closer than ever on the frail child. Lydia immediately sent for Brother Harris, but he was away from home. The night was again spent in anxious watching. In the morning she called in two brethren, and she and they repealed the former ceremony of washing and annointing the babe. As the brethrens' hands rested upon his head, a light shone down upon him, like a brilliant sunbeam from a cloudy sky. "The light" faded as they ceased, and the child was completely restored to health from that moment. CHAPTER IX. The Autumn and Winter passed pleasantly away. Health being restored, homes were being being made for these tent-dwellers. The busy hum of the workman sounded on every side. Trees were set out; houses, one-roomed, two-roomed and sometimes double-storied, slowly arose to take the place of the parti-colored tents. The first time Joseph came across Newel, he shook hands with him and enquired: "Have you brought your mill?" "No, sir; I had no way to move my mill, it was much too heavy to bring." "Well now, Brother Newel, I want to give you a mission. Grain is very plentiful here; flour and meal are scarce as it is so far to the nearest mill. Now, go to; build a mill and accomplish it as soon as possible." This was in the first Spring that they were there, in '39. Brother Knight spent the Summer in erecting a mill. After it was completed he was taken ill, as was related in the last Chapter. On his recovery, he set to work to build a log cabin for his family. Lydia took possession of her new house as proud as any queen, and far happier. In October, on the eighteenth of the month, 1840, a little son came to Newel and Lydia, whom they called Joseph, after his grandfather. Two years passed happily and busily away, and on the 14th of October, 1842, another son came to their home, he was called after his father, Newel. The house, its care, the duties of a mother and wife occupied the hands and mind of Lydia during this time. In 1842, the Relief Society was formed by the Prophet Joseph. It was an organization of women for the relief of the poor, the culture and improvement of its members. Joseph, in organizing it stated that the Church of God would not be complete without this society. Sister Lydia was enrolled as one of its first members. The years of '42 and '43, passed away. During this time the Prophet was eagerly sought for by his enemies. Again and again was he taken prisoner for imaginary offenses, and once some ruffians tried to kidnap him into Missouri. In the Spring of '44, persecution raged high against the leaders of the Church. Mobs once more began to gather and commit depredations. In the midst of all these persecutions and tribulations a little girl was born to Lydia, on the 6th of June, 1844. As she began to recover her strength a little, rumors that the blood-hounds were again seeking the life of the Prophet grew more and more frequent. On the 24th of June, Joseph gave himself up to his enemies, his brother Hyrum and eighteen others going with him. The narrative of the horrible, sickening murder of the Prophet and Patriarch which occurred on the 27th is too ghastly in its details to give in this little story. Who can tell the bitter anguish, the wild unavailing woe that struck the faithful hearts of the Saints in Nauvoo! The murdered Prophet and Patriarch were brought back to Nauvoo for burial, but Lydia was too weak and too much overcome with grief to attend the services over their remains. Mourning, deep and solemn, filled the city. And every heart was wrung with grief and woe. But over all brooded the spirit of Christ. Time passed on without anything of special moment occurring to Lydia or family until the Summer of '45. The Winter of '45, however, brought two little orphan girls to her care by the name of Ames. From the time that Lydia had her first home in Missouri, it might almost be said until the present, her home has been the peaceful asylum for some one or two children who have been homeless. In the summer of '45, just a year, a month and a day from the time of the martyrs' death. Newel and his wife paid a visit to the scene of the murder. The jailor's wife who admitted them, showed them up stairs to the large, low-ceilinged room where the deed was committed. "Do you know," the loquacious woman said, as she lifted the carpets up from the floor, "I have scoured and scrubbed those spots with all my might and it's no manner of use; just as soon as the water is dried off they are as bright as they were the first day. And look at these scars in the wall," the woman seemed to be possessed, as she spoke, with a trembling horror, "I have tried my best to get them filled up." "Can't they be leveled up? I should think a good plasterer could fill them up," observed Mr. Knight as he examined the holes in the plaster evidently made by rifle and pistol balls. "Well, you would think so perhaps; but the best workmen in the country have endeavored to plaster the scars up, and you see them now as plain as they were a year ago. The plasterer no sooner leaves his job, than next morning it is all to do over again. It was a terrible affair." Too much overcome by the remembrance of the tragedy committed there to answer the woman or remain longer on the spot. Newel and Lydia hastily left and wended their way homeward with heavy hearts. About this time the wicked and those who wished the destruction of "Mormonism," grew more bold and committed depredations without number. The Saints who were so unfortunate as to live outside the confines of Nauvoo, were annoyed, abused, insulted and maltreated. People began to move into Nauvoo as the mob became fiercer and stronger; for houses and barns were burned, and all the awful scenes of rapine and pillage of Far West and Jackson county were repeated with redoubled violence. No law could be found strong enough to reach these robbers; no official just enough to punish the perpetrators of the crimes which were constantly committed. Lydia often looked around her little home and wondered if she would again be driven from all her comforts. One evening Newel came home from council where he had been for hours, with a very sad face. "Well, dear, what is to be done? Why are you so downcast?" "Reason enough, my girl. Brother Brigham and the council have decided that we must once more turn our faces westward, and again flee into the wilderness. The outrages of the mob have become so frequent, and they are so encouraged in their deviltry by those who should protect us, that our leaders have given the word to take up the line of march." "If it be so, Newel, it will ill become us to murmur or indulge in useless regrets. Our place is with the kingdom of God. Let us at once set about making preparations to leave." The Winter of '46 was spent by most of the Saints in laboring in the temple. As soon as it became generally known that another exodus was to be made, all who were able devoted their time to receiving their blessings in the house of God. As Spring came on Lydia grew anxious to start on the proposed long journey. Many of the Saints had left or were leaving, and at last Newel succeeded in getting two wretched wagons, three yoke of oxen and one or two cows. A few necessary utensils and the provisions for three months were packed in one wagon, and the family in the other. Thus equipped Newel and Lydia joined a moving company and left Nauvoo on the morning of the 17th of April, 1846. They left mills, house, barn and all their possessions to be occupied by any of the mobbers who might chance to come first. What a journey! For hundreds and hundreds of miles after leaving Nauvoo stretched away an unbroken prairie. How very long seemed a mile when traversed by oxen! Often the wheels of the wagons would be up to the hubs in the soft, miry land. But here, at least, was freedom. In the evenings the great camp-fires were lit, supper was cooked on the glowing coals and the little ones were put quietly to sleep. Then a merry, cheerful crowd collected around the fire, and talked of the prospects for making homes where mobs could not come. About nine o'clock the little circle would kneel down in simple, humble worship to the Great Omnipotent, and then retire to rest. The Sundays were always days of rest. A temporary halt was made, and meetings were held. Oh the peace, the rest of those quiet Sabbath days! How fervently Lydia sang, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow!" How her heart swelled with love to Him who had brought her to these lovely, quiet days! Four weeks' travel and the company arrived at Mount Pisgah, where they found many of the Saints who were resting and recruiting their teams. Two or three weeks were spent here. Then again the march was taken up, and again the untrodden prairie rolled away as far as the eye could reach. Two weeks of slow traveling brought the company to Council Bluffs, where another halt for rest and recuperation was made. The provisions in Brother Knight's wagon had become very low, and so Newel went down into Missouri and got a few jobs of work that gave him the means to get another stock of food; this time he got ample provisions for one year. One month had passed, and the word was given to start. The "Mormons" built a ferry-boat and crossed the Missouri river. The company were then all drawn up on a pleasant camping place and here they awaited the arrival of Presidents Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards, who were coming to regularly organize the company. In a few days the Presidency arrived. President Young had sent a call to all who could furnish themselves with a year's provisions, and a team able to travel, to cross the river and await his coming. Here then they were, and prepared for the organization, which took place on the same day as he arrived. "My brethren," said the President, "I am pleased to see you so well equipped. We shall organize you into companies of fifty. That is, fifty families in one company, the charge of which shall be given to a captain. You will then be further divided into companies of tens, also presided over by captains. This will insure order and good, careful management. It is imperatively necessary that the utmost unity should prevail. Let every one be careful to cultivate the spirit of obedience to those who will be placed to direct. The journey you are to pursue is one of many dangers and difficulties. You are about to enter into a wilderness where the foot of white man has never pressed the earth. Be prudent! Let not the women venture far from the camp. Keep the strictest watch over the little children that they do not stray. Be careful in all that you do. God will surely watch over you, but you must also exert your utmost vigilance. Never anger the Indians by whom you may be surrounded, but follow the dictates of the Spirit which will lead you to act wisely and cautiously. Let no man set up his judgment against your captain, lest disunion creep in among you, and you shall be deserted by the good Spirit. Be watchful, be obedient and be prudent and you shall be preserved from evil, from the Indians, from the power of the destroyer, and harm of every kind inasmuch as you pay heed to my counsels. You are to go on until you reach the Rocky Mountains, or until you find good wintering for yourselves and stock. I will appoint Newel Knight to take the charge of the first company of fifty, and Joseph Holbrook to be captain of the second company of fifty. These brethren are to have control of the camps, and God will do unto you all even as you keep the commandments He has given you and the counsel I have just given." Brothers Kimball and Richards also left many blessings with this little party who formed the first organized company for overland travel. Soon after the departure of the Presidency, the emigrating Saints again set out, slowly traveling by day and quietly resting by night. A week thus spent and they were overtaken by a company under Jas. Emmet and George Miller, who had set up jointly to take the lead of the Church. They had gathered up a company in Missouri and were determined to be ahead in the grand exodus. These men immediately attempted to assume command of the two companies under Brothers Knight and Holbrook. I must explain this circumstance thoroughly as its bearing on what followed is very important: There was much discussion, and Newel maintained that he had not been instructed by Brother Brigham to submit to the authority of either Emmet or Miller. Two weeks were spent in argument and remonstrance, all traveling on, until when within six miles of the missionary station of the Pawnee Indians. By this time quite a number had been so impressed with the perilous picture drawn by Miller and Emmet of their course if they did not unite with his company, that there was quite a division in the camp. A council of the officers was held, and it was decided that Newel Knight and John Kay should return to Winter Quarters, where the body of the Saints were encamped for Winter, and there obtain the word and will of the Lord through His servant Brigham. Only a short time elapsed before the messengers who were sent to Winter Quarters returned with a letter from President Young. He counseled them not to attempt to reach the mountains, as the season was now to far advanced. But to seek some good place, where people and teams could be fed and be made comfortable through the Winter. And thus it was, the three companies united, and, for the time at least, Emmet and Miller submitted to counsel. The captains then sought for a suitable place to winter. Some Ponca Indian chiefs came up while the party were in doubt what to do, and after learning what the white men wished, offered them a Winter asylum on their lands. They said, only a few suns would bring them over to the place, and that there were grass and water in abundance. Accordingly, the companies made their slow way across the plains, traveling two wrecks over the place the swift Indian ponies had traversed in two or three days. The red men were very kind and hospitable to the white men. Many of them had never before seen a pale-face; and the wagons, cattle, pigs, sheep and chickens were objects of wonder and admiration. The white men were equally amused with the odd dress, manners and habits of the children of the prairie. A treaty was made for mutual interest and protection, and as Winter drew on, the little camp were getting very comfortable, with log cabins for homes and stables. Lydia was calm and happy, and looked forward to the time when the end of the long journey would be reached, and she and Newel were once again settled in a home with the dear little ones growing up around them. The Winter had nearly spent its violence, when over the little cabin where Lydia worked and hoped there was cast a lingering shadow. A shadow dark and grim. One night in the beginning of January, the shadow drifted in and silently settled down on the faithful husband. She did not see its dusky wings as Newel's voice awoke her, but dimly, so dimly wondered what strange influence was in the room. The grip of the shadowy presence was fastened on Newel, and he knew it. "Lydia, I have a pain in my side. Be quick, my dear, it is very acute." The remedy was brought but gave no relief. On the 11th of January, a woman sat with tightly-closed hands and wild agonized eyes watching the breath of the being she loved better than life itself, slowly cease. "Lydia," the dying voice faintly whispered, "it is necessary for me to go. Joseph wants me. It is needful that a messenger be sent with the true condition of the Saints. Don't grieve too much, for you will be protected." "Oh Newel, don't speak so; don't give up; oh I could not bear it. Think of me. Newel, here in an Indian country alone, with seven little children. No resting place for my feet, no one to counsel, to guide, or to protect me. I cannot let you go." The dying man looked at her a moment, and then said with a peculiar look: "I will not leave you now Lydia." As the words left his lips, an agony of suffering seemed to seize him. His very frame trembled with the mighty throes of pain. The distracted wife bore his agony as long as she could, but at last, flinging herself on her knees, she cried to God to forgive her if she had asked amiss, and if it was really His will for her husband to die, that the pain might leave him and his spirit go in peace. The prayer was scarcely over ere a calm settled on the sufferer, and with one long loving look in the eyes of his beloved wife, the shadow lifted and the spirit fled. CHAPTER X. Alone in an Indian country, uncertain where she would go or what she should do, this woman with seven little helpless children took up the burden of life. In and through her surged the consciousness that God doeth all things well. But oh the awful, the silent loneliness! That evening (11th of Jan.), Newel was buried. No lumber could be had, so Lydia had one of her wagon-boxes made into a rude coffin. The day was excessively cold, and some of the brethren had their fingers and feet frozen while digging the grave and performing the last offices of love for their honored captain and brother. As the woman looked out upon the wilderness of snow and saw the men bearing away all that was left of her husband, it seemed that the flavor of life had fled and left only dregs, bitter unavailing sorrow. But as she grew calmer she whispered with poor, pale lips, "God rules!" Time was empty of incident or interest to Lydia until the 4th of February, when Brother Miller, who had been to Winter Quarters for provisions, returned, and brought tidings of a revelation showing the order of the organization of the camp of the Saints, and also the joyful news that Brothers E. T. Benson and Erastus Snow were coming soon to Ponca to organize the Saints according to the pattern given in the revelation. On the day of the organization, Lydia returned from the meeting and sat down in her home full of sad thoughts. How could she, who had never taken any care except that which falls to every woman's share, prepare herself and family to return to Winter Quarters and from thence take a journey of a thousand miles into the Rocky Mountains. The burden weighed her very spirit down until she cried out in her pain: "Oh Newel, why hast thou left me!" As she spoke, he stood by her side, with a lovely smile on his face, and said: "Be calm, let not sorrow overcome you. It was necessary that I should go. I was needed behind the vail to represent the true condition of this camp and people. You cannot fully comprehend it now; but the time will come when you shall know why I left you and our little ones. Therefore, dry up your tears. Be patient, I will go before you and protect you in your journeyings. And you and your little ones shall never perish for lack of food. Although the ravens of the valley should feed you and your little ones you shall not perish for the want of bread." As he spoke the last words, she turned, and there appeared three ravens. Turning again to where her husband had stood, he was not. This was a great comfort and help to her, and her spirits were revived and strengthened by the promises made. As spring began to approach, the little camp was visited a great deal by sickness and death. The Sioux Indians ran off all the stock they could and generally were very troublesome. March came, and Lydia's journal is filled with the little incidents of camp life, and on every page the over-burdened heart tells its own tale of sorrow and mourning. In April, the word was given to move. The camp was organized for traveling and the Saints commenced their journey. Lydia started out with her family and effects in two wagons drawn by three yoke of oxen, and driven by Samuel, who was thirteen years old and James who was nine. The brethren were exceedingly kind to the widow and rendered her all the assistance in their power. There is no kindness on earth more freely bestowed than that given by the Saints to those who are in trouble. A very cold, slow, tedious journey was made down to Winter Quarters. Arriving there, or nearly there, the camp split up and scattered as sheep without a shepherd, thus disregarding President Young's counsel, who wished them to remain at a certain location two miles from the town. Those who were able, fitted up to go on to the valley with the companies moving there that Spring, while about ten families under Captain David Lewis remained at the place designated by President Young, named afterwards Ponca Camp. One year was spent by Lydia in this place. Almost immediately after she reached Ponca Camp, she was counseled to send her step-son, Samuel, on to the valley. Although she did so, she feared lest his mother's relatives might take the boy away from her, and she felt she could not bear to lose him, for he was almost as dear to her as her own sons. The brethren put up a log cabin for her, and with the help of the nine year old son, she raised plenty of vegetables through the Summer. Her cows did well, and she was very comfortable. On the 26th of August, a little boy was born to Lydia. She had just moved into the cabin, in which there were no doors nor windows and the roof was but partially on. However, she and the child did well. When the little babe was a week old, a sudden severe rain-storm came up. It poured down into the cabin with much violence. Lydia told her daughter Sally to give her all the bed-clothes they had, and these were put upon the bed and removed as they became soaked: At last, finding the clothes were all wet completely through and that she was getting chilled sitting up in the wet, she said: "Sally, go to bed, it's no use doing any more unless some power beyond that which we possess is exercised, it is impossible for me to avoid catching cold. But we will trust in God, He has never failed to hear our prayers." And so she drew her babe to her, and covered up as well as she could, and asked God to watch over them all through the night. Her mind went back to the time when she had a noble companion, one who would never allow her to suffer any discomfort, and who loved her as tenderly as man could woman. But now he was in the grave in a savage Indian country, and she was alone and in trouble. As she thus mused, chilled with the cold rain and shivering, her agony at his loss became unbearable and she cried out: "Oh Newel, why could you not have stayed with and protected me through our journeyings?" A voice plainly answered her from the darkness around her, and said: "Lydia, be patient and fear not. I will still watch over you, and protect you in your present situation. You shall receive no harm. It was needful that I should go, and you will understand why in due time." As the voice ceased, a pleasant warmth crept over her, and seemed like the mild sunshine on a lovely Spring afternoon. Curling down in this comfortable atmosphere, she went immediately to sleep, and awoke in the morning all right, but wet to the skin. Instead of receiving harm from this circumstance, she got up the next morning, although the child was but a week old, and went about her usual labors. In the Spring, the Indians came down in great numbers. Winter Quarters was vacated by the Saints, who moved across the river to Pottowattamie. This removal was caused by the jealousy of the Indians, who wished them to get away from the land on which was built Winter Quarters, as it was part of their reservation. The Ponca Camp was advised by President Young to move into Pottowattamie, as the Indians were troublesome, or apt to be so, at this place also. Accordingly, a general move was made across the river. President Young, who had been to the valley the year before, returned now to remove his family. The word was given for all that could, to fit out and go with the President; those who could not, were to go to Pottowattamie, and there remain until either they were able to move or the Church could assist them to do so. Lydia had at this time two wagons, three yoke of oxen and three cows. She went over to Winter Quarters on the 30th of April, '48, to ask President Young's counsel as to her going west with the company. After representing her condition to him, the President replied: "Sister Knight, you have a large family of helpless children, and all who go to the valley must provide themselves with at least eighteen months' provisions. With your teams, it would be impossible to haul half that, and it would be the cause of suffering for yourself and little ones to be in the valley unless you have plenty to last. You know, of course, we must raise our crops before we can expect to have anything, and there is nothing but seed crops in this Spring. Now sister, you will be much more comfortable to go over to Pottowattamie and stay there until you can come, and find something to come to. If you feel so disposed, you can let your three yoke of oxen and two wagons go towards helping to fit out some one who can go and take care of themselves when there." His words reminded Lydia of a covenant her husband, in common with the faithful Elders, had made in Nauvoo, that they and all they possessed should be upon the altar for the assistance of those to remove to the valley who were otherwise unable to get there, and that they would never cease their exertions until the removal was made. Was not this covenant hers? Without a moment's hesitation, she replied: "Certainly, President Young, they are at your disposal." She then returned to her home in Ponca Camp and prepared to go across the river. The camp and Winter Quarters were situated on the west side of the Missouri, and Pottowattamie was on the east side. It was thought best for Sister Knight to leave her teams and wagons on the west side, and some of the brethren assisted her across, thus avoiding much ferrying, which was expensive and troublesome as so many were crossing backwards and forwards. Arriving on the east side, she found herself in Pottowattamie again without a roof to shelter her head. After some search, a Doctor Lee, who had moved her across the river, found her a sort of half-cave, half-hut on the bank of a creek. The sides were of logs, the back being the side of the hill against which it was built. This was one of the most miserable habitations in which a human being ever lived. Cold in Winter, sultry in the Summer, filthy and low. However, Lydia lived here one year. In the Spring of '49, the waters as usual rose very high. One afternoon, Lydia took her pail to get some water from the swollen stream running by the door. As she reached the bank, she saw her little girl's head on the top of the water as she was floating down the stream. Dashing in she grasped the child, and, after some severe struggles, succeeded in reaching the bank with the almost drowned child. After several hours rubbing, and administering to the child, she recovered, and only a mother could imagine Lydia's joy at her return to life. The following extract from a letter written by Lydia to her parents, July 10th, 1848, shows the spirit of this quiet but energetic woman, who as a girl never left "till the last lock was pulled:" "There are times when it seems as though every power were exerted to discourage me in what I believe to be the path of duty. And were it not that my confidence is in God and my faith firmly stayed upon the Mighty One of Jacob, I am sure I would shrink and fall beneath the burden that is upon me. I embraced the religion of the Latter-day Saints because my judgment was convinced that it was necessary for my salvation, and for this reason I now cling to it. * * * Contrary to my expectations when I last wrote, I have crossed the Missouri river. I have not yet been able to procure an outfit to take me to the valley, and I do not know when I can. It requires my whole time and attention to provide for the daily wants of myself and family. Yet amid my trials I am happy and feel assured that my Maker will provide for me, and in His own due time gather me with His people. * * * I trust that you, my dear parents, will at some future time be induced to cast your lot with the Saints. If this desire of my heart could be fulfilled I would experience a joy which words would fail to express. I still trust in God, knowing that He will do all things for the best." CHAPTER XI. What sufferings must have been endured by these brave, faithful, single-hearted, pioneer "Mormon" women. Pen and tongue are weak to express the struggles and trials of these heroines of modern times. Lydia was still in her little den into which she had moved when coming to the place one year ago; flooded when it rained, intensely cold in Winter, hot and stifling in the Summer, and always damp, low, unhealthy and impossible to make, or keep clean. Lydia was too neat and thrifty to tamely submit to such a state of things any longer than possible. She felt weak in her own spirit when alone with her sad thoughts, but when the occasion presented itself for action, she was prepared for it. In June, she heard that the Widow Ensign was about to move to the valley, and wished to sell her cabin and a few acres of farming land. Accordingly she set out to see if she could purchase it. She had been washing and sewing for those of the Saints who could pay for such things, and had saved thereby a few dollars. She offered the widow what money she had together with some clothing and household effects which she could ill spare, for her cabin and land. The offer was readily accepted, as it was not very easy to sell property, so many were constantly leaving for the valley. Then, here was Lydia, without a dime and but very few personal effects, settling down for another year, with no prospect of reaching the Mecca of all her hopes, the valley, for at least another year. However, she had a tolerably decent log cabin, which possessed the merit of keeping out the rain, and which could be made a clean dwelling place for herself and little ones. She moved into her new home on the 23rd of June, and her devout spirit breathed a fervent prayer of gratitude to God, as she entered its portals, that she and her children were still alive and well, and that their surroundings were so much improved. The children were now sent to school, and Lydia took in washing and other work to keep herself and family. On the 30th of June she writes: "Have been doing some washing for miners that I may get some money to buy meal. To-day I went with my son to the mill to get something to make bread for my family. Just as I was leaving, a gentleman, learning my situation, told the miller to put up twenty pounds of flour for me, at his expense. May the Lord reward him bountifully." How many times in the history of this people have unknown friends aided them when in distress! Surely angels must have carefully watched over them in their manifold sufferings. During harvest, the brethren "took hold" and harvested Lydia's wheat. The Winter of '49-'50 was spent very peacefully by this patient woman. Her children, whom she had always taught at home previously, were now at school. Busy with her needle and wash-tub, to earn enough to feed and clothe her little ones, the time flew quickly by, and as Spring came on Lydia felt an almost irrepressible desire to make a start to emigrate to the valley. "James," she said one day to her oldest son, "can't we make an effort to get to the valley this season?" "Why, mother, what will you go with? President Young took our two teams and wagons and you know we only got back one team and part of the two wagons. What was the reason, mother, that the wagons were so broken up and almost fit for nothing?" "Well, my son, I have heard it rumored that the teamsters in crossing the plains, returning here, as they did not have proper restraint and care over them, were a little foolish and perhaps cut up the more cumbersome parts of some wagons for firewood." "How would they drive them?" "They did not drive the broken wagons, my boy, but would load the more valuable part of several wagons, such as wheels, axle-trees, etc., yoke up long strings of oxen on this wagon, and thus save hunting up wood, or going without, where wood was scarce. But let us say nothing about it; we will be very thankful to have what is here. I have given the pieces of one wagon to get the other one repaired, so that we may have one good wagon. Bishop Hunter was here the other day; he has come on to bring a company of the poorer of the Saints, and will help them with the Emigration Fund, where they are unable to come any other way. Now, the kind Bishop tells me that President Young has given him especial charge to bring us out this season; and he offers me the use of two yoke of oxen. He says I can pay for their use when I get to the valley and earn enough to do so. This, of course, I will do as soon as I possibly can." "Well, but mother, ain't we poor?" "Yes, James, but God will always help those to be independent who earnestly desire to be so. We will be blessed in the future as we have been in the past." It was thus decided to get ready to move westward with Bishop Hunter's company, and Lydia very rapidly completed her preparations for the long journey across the plains. Under Bishop Hunter's advice she sold, for a small sum of money, the yoke of oxen that had returned the previous year from the valley, and turned the proceeds into a little fund for the outfit. A brother, named Grover, whom she had known in Kirtland, and had been friendly with all through the various moves of the Saints, hearing of her destitute circumstances, and that she was about to emigrate to the valley, came in one day and gave her twenty-five dollars in cash. She also sold the little cabin and piece of land for about twenty dollars, receiving her pay in corn. This corn was prepared for the journey in a very odd manner. The children spent many days in parching it; after which it was taken to the mill and ground up. This was done by the advice of President Young, in order to preserve the meal sweet and good. The greater part of the corn was thus prepared; but Lydia carried some meal unparched. She bought a sack of flour weighing one hundred pounds, and thus had for the journey about seven or eight hundred pounds of flour and meal together parched and unparched. A few pounds of dried fish, some soap, eight or ten pounds of sugar, a few matches and a little soda, formed the grocery stores. Her medicine chest consisted solely of a bottle of consecrated oil. One pair of shoes and a stout, home-made suit or dress with a better one for Sunday use for each of the children; a good shawl for herself and warm wraps for the little ones, made up the scanty wardrobe. But she had quite a good supply of bedding which was of great service to her on the journey. A little stove was set up in the wagon to keep them warm, and a little rocking-chair in the front end of the wagon for Lydia to sit in, were among her selections for the trip. However, she soon found that even these supplies would not go in the wagon, and give room for the seven little ones. Although but twelve years of age, James walked most of the way to the valley and drove the oxen, while Joseph, Newel and Sally walked a great part of the way; but even then, a place must be found for the three smaller ones, beside the mother. So after talking the matter over a great deal, Lydia concluded to yoke up two of her cows on lead of one yoke of oxen, and put the odd cow and the other yoke of oxen on some wagon belonging to the company, the owner of which would allow her to have the use of part of the wagon for her share. Bro. Cluff offered to let Lydia put her cow and oxen on one of his wagons, and partly load the wagon with her things, he having one of his boys to drive. Bro. Cluff was pretty well off, had ten or twelve boys, and was well able to assist the widow. Lydia found herself ready about the 1st of June, 1850, and started with Bro. Cluff 's folks, traveling as far as Salt River, and then halting for the rest of the company to come up. In about two weeks, the whole company was gathered, organized and ready to start. As was the custom, the party was divided into companies of one hundred; then subdivided into fifties, which were again divided into companies of ten. Bishop Hunter was the presiding captain, and Jesse Haven was the captain of the ten in which were Lydia and her friends, the Cluffs. For many days they traveled upon the prairie, a level sea of waving green, without a mound or hill to rest the weary eye. After striking the Platte river, they followed it up for hundreds of miles. Sometimes they would reach a little grove of trees, sometimes some brush, or a little driftwood caught in a snag in the river. This was all the wood the camp ever found while on the prairie; and the prudent widow always carefully laid by some wood in her wagon to serve when there was none where they camped. For very many miles the train moved along the plains up the Platte river, which were then called the "buffalo country." Often in the distance they would see herds of these creatures. One day, they were traveling in a little more hilly part of the country, and became aware that the hills were covered with thousands of these herds. What was thought at first to be trees, turned out to be a moving mass of buffalos; and upon the head wagons getting near enough to see, they found that some of these immense herds were crossing from the hills down to the river to water. A halt had to be called, and some hours were spent waiting for the road to be cleared for a passage. It was here in this "buffalo country," that the famous stampedes of the animals were wont to take place. Without one second's warning, every ox and cow in the whole train would start to run, and go almost like a shot out of a gun. No matter how weary, or how stupid they were, when one made the spring, the remainder of the horned stock were crazed with fear. On, on, they would go for miles, and seemed unable to stop until headed and brought back to camp. One day while slowly plodding along beneath the burning, sultry sun, the start was made, and as every wagon was drawn by oxen or cows, away went cattle, wagons and inmates; tin and brass pails, camp-kettles and coffee-pots jingling merrily behind and underneath the wagons where they were tied; children screaming, everything that was loose flying out as they bumped along; over the untrodden prairie flew the maddened cattle, nearer and nearer to the river bank, which was here a precipice of twenty-five feet down to the water. Women, seeing their danger, sobbed out wild prayers for God to save; men ran and shouted to no avail; when suddenly over the plumy grass flies a horseman, spurring and screaming to his quivering, panting horse; mothers clasp their frightened babes in their arms, and prepare to face their watery grave. But the rider is up with the head team, and just as the head wagons are within ten feet of the deadly bank, he turns them aside and they are saved. Lydia's wagon was near the lead, and she came within a few feet of the precipice. When she once more was safely traveling in the road, she and her children thanked God for His deliverance, praying that they might be so endangered no more. Her prayer was granted. Another stampede occurred, but it was in the night and no one was hurt. The wagons, at night, were drawn up in a circle, the tongue of one resting upon the hind wheel of the preceding wagon; inside of this ring, the cattle were coralled. One night the camp heard the sudden start, and over one wagon over which the lead ox had leaped, went the whole herd. The wagon, which belonged to John Kay, was badly broken up. Out into the prairie ran the cattle; but as speedily as possible a man jumped on a horse, and riding furiously until he got ahead of the herd, he circled round and brought them back to camp. The cattle, when stampeding, always follow a leader, so the horseman took advantage of this, making a circle of some ten miles around to get back to camp.

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