Chapter XXII

We are the true born sons of Zion,
Who with us that can compare?
We are the royal branch of Joseph
The bright and the glorious morning star;
Oh! We are the true born sons of Zion!
—Mormon Song.

Then followed a long and dreary pilgrimage such as the people of no other age or country have seen the like of. Travellers of to-day who fly along in palace cars can form no conception of that dreadful journey. For days at a time not a drop of water could be had that was fit to drink; fuel was equally scarce, and the hard rations of squalid poverty offered but slender comfort to one of Hagar’s mould, whose physical and mental condition was on the verge of utter prostration.

To add to the horrors of hunger, thirst, burning heat and blinding dust, the train was attacked by Indians near the crossing of the North Platte, and was only saved by a stratagem of Spencer.

The Indians were posted in an old stockade which had formally been a stage station, and were trying to burn the Mormon encampment during a stormy night. They had already stampeded a large part of the stock, and the train was in great jeopardy owing to the craven cowardice of the emigrants, and the short-sightedness of the commander.

Unknown to all except Hagar, whom he took care to inform in case he should be killed, Spencer extemporized a bombshell by loading a large iron bake-kettle with powder, shot and scraps of iron. He fixed a short fuse to it, and wrapped it round and round with strong wire. Then, at the risk of his life, he approached the stockade in the darkness, and threw his infernal machine into the midst of the Indians. An explosion immediately followed which drove from the stockade all whom it did not kill or maim.

The Mormons thought it a thunderbolt from Heaven. Their courage was revived, and next morning their hearts were cheered by the sight of a troop of U.S. Cavalry approaching from the westward.

The loss of the stock which the redskins took away with them was a sad blow to the train, and caused the company much delay and privation. But they struggled on, sustained by their faith and by the hope of a better time which awaited them in Zion. Many and loud were the murmurs at times, and often among those who made the strongest pretensions of religion, but no complaint escaped Hagar’s lips, though she was approaching a crisis which she might well dread.

The train finally reached Bitter Creek, one of the dreariest sections of the route, towards the middle of October, and though still far from Zion, the chilly nights and frequent storms spoke gloomily of approaching winter. Hagar had been ill for some time with Mountain fever, and had become so enfeebled that much anxiety was felt for her.

One day as the wagons were jolting and grating over the rocky road of a steep and narrow canyon they were descending, word was brought to Dr. Richardson (a young returning missionary who was a mere tyro in medicine) that Sister Miles had suddenly become worse and required immediate attention. Her wagon, however, was half a mile ahead of the doctor, and when he arrived he found some of the women attending her, and that she had been prematurely delivered of a male child.

There had been deaths and marriages, but this was the first and only birth that had occurred during the journey, and it created a momentary sensation, which was only prevented from developing into a demonstration of a somewhat coarse character, by the critical state of the young mother’s health. A halt of but one day could be allowed the poor sufferer for repose, so precious was every moment if they would pass the mountains before the roads were blocked with snow.

The little stranger was not destined to become either a joy or sorrow to its desolate and broken-hearted mother. It was very frail from the first, and after a few days, had passed away. Hagar named him Ishmael when they took his tiny body from her and buried it there in the sands of the desert, and among the mourners who bore it to its final resting place, the saddest was Spencer, who believed the scene was but the precursor of one more solemn still, when they should be called on to bear its mother to a grave as lonely.

But, thanks to a strong constitution, she soon afterwards began to mend and was much improved in health before her arrival at Salt Lake. Some wagons from the Mormon settlements laden with fresh vegetables and other provisions, met the train at Green River, adding greatly to the comfort and happiness of the company for the remainder of the journey. They were, however, delayed by snow and bad roads and only emerged from the wintry gorges of Emigration Canon, on November 10th, and caught a glimpse of the beauteous Valley of the Lake, with the silvery Jordan winding through it from South to North, and the “City of the Saints,” that looked like paradise to their weary eyes, lying far below them in the midst of leafless trees. The circle of mountains covered with glittering snow, formed a suitable frame for the dull autumnal landscape of the valley.

The sun was setting in all his splendor beyond the great blue lake of brine, as the emigrants hurriedly and merrily formed their last camp, regarding their perils and hardships as nothing now that the goal was reached, which seemed even more fair than their faith had pictured it.

The next day broke bright and warm and an early start was made towards the attractive looking town, that some half suspected would vanish during the night. On account of the wretched condition of the roads, it was evening when they reached the “Emigration Square,” a ten acre plot on the southern side of the town where the Mormon recruits camped on their arrival. Much of the illusion of the previous evening faded on a nearer approach, the frightful roads alone being sufficient to cause criticism and apprehension. The houses were small, poor-looking and much scattered; the streets broad, deserted and overgrown with weeds and sunflowers, the dry stalks of which formed thickets about the square. The wagons sank to the axles in the mud, and the square itself, being located on low and marshy ground, presented few advantages as a place of encampment.

Some of the emigrants were not required to spend that night in camp. Bishop Dayton was there to receive his niece and take her to his home. The Mormon President and his counsellors, together with other magnates, had come out to greet the company, and to give them a hearty welcome to the land of promise.

Spencer’s mother, a kind and intelligent, but very fanatical old lady, was at the square with one of her daughters, to meet the young missionary (whose praises had resounded throughout Zion during the past year), and they received Hagar most cordially, insisting that she must make her home with them for the present. Many of the emigrants were no less kindly dealt with by relatives, former acquaintances, or new-found friends, who now came forward to offer them such shelter and comfort as they could provide. The entire company were almost imperceptibly absorbed in a few days, some going to the country towns in the various parts of Utah according to the allotment made by the Mormon leaders, others finding employment in Salt Lake at their former trades, or being quartered on such brethren as were able to provide for them during the winter. Most of the young girls and widows had no difficulty in finding homes, and were soon made members in full standing of the families into which they were received, by becoming the “plural wives” of the brethren who gave them this timely shelter.

It was only the year previous that Congress passed its first law against Mormon polygamy, and the practice was never in a more flourishing condition.

The fact that there was a young American widow of good family and education among the newly arrived company of emigrants was not slow in gaining general currency, and Spencer was not only taken to task concerning her, by a certain young ‘lily of the valley’ to whom he had given more or less definite pledges before he went away, and by the young fellows in the neighborhood who knew that Hagar was domiciled at his father’s house; but, when he went to Brigham Young’s office a few days later to report, that dignitary, after commending him in his fatherly way, and congratulating him on the success of his labors, rallied him upon ‘the unsaintly deed he had committed in spiriting away the attractive Sister Miles whose praises had reached him from several sources.’

“What do you say, Brother Edwin,” asked the Mormon prophet, addressing in a good-natured way, a man with full dark beard whom Spencer had greeted on entering as Bishop Langley—“Shall we cut him off for this contumacious conduct? If the young elders go on in this way, the authorities will not be able to get any wives at all.”

“I don’t know about that, Brother Brigham,” the Bishop replied, “but I was just telling Brother Heber when Brother Spencer came in, that I consider I have the first claim on the young widow, sister Miles, and for this reason: She’s come all the way from the Missouri in one of my wagons, and she’s lived on my bacon and meal nigh on to three months. Now brethren, including you, Brother Spencer, state your claims.”

Though the conversation had turned on a mere jest, the Bishop spoke seriously, and both Brigham Young and his counsellor Heber C. Kimball, were greatly amused by his rejoinder. The prophet winked slyly at Kimball and Spencer, and then said:

“It strikes me, Brother Edwin, that you are a little out in your reckoning, ‘and for this reason,’” he continued, quoting the Bishop, “that the pretty widow came all the way from the Missouri in a Church wagon, and has lived fully three months, and is still living on Church bacon and meal—for when you donate wagons, bacon, meal or anything else for the use of the Church, it belongs to the Church. I’ll leave that to Brother Heber; and, therefore, as head of the Church and Chief of the emigration fund, I hold that the first choice falls to me. What do you say to that, Brother Heber?”

“Most emphatically correct—nothing more certain,” replied the prophet’s first Counsellor with a twinkle in his small brown eyes. He then passed his hand over his bald head, which was as round as a bullet, and continued—“But as I come in for a second choice and am so much better looking, I guess both you and the Bishop may as well give in. If the pretty widow wants money she’ll have Langley; if she aspires to high station, of course she’ll take the president; but if she’s lookin’ for beauty, I’m her man.”

This was merely a bit of characteristic by-play on the part of Brother Heber, it being a point of honor with him to have his joke whenever occasion offered. He was a merry old soul, and often kept the prophet out of the blues by his funny sayings.

“Well,” said Bishop Langley, stretching out his legs, and shoving his hands deep down into his trouser pockets—“so far I’ve got the wind of you both, for I’ve seen her, and she’s just A 1, a little fagged and worn out by the trip, but all there, and as pretty as a peach. The first fine day I’m going around to take her for a sleigh ride and show her the town and the surrounding country.”

“But you have not been introduced, have you, Brother Langley?” asked Spencer, who was not over pleased by the remarks he had been listening to.

“Barely. I met her on the street with your sister.”

“My own belief is that she will remain a widow for some time to come. She is deeply grieved by her bereavement, and nothing would shock her more at present than an offer of marriage, no matter who made it. Of this I am certain. But, of course, it’s no affair of mine; I only feel the same interest in her as in other members of my company.”

The subject was presently dropped, and the prophet resumed his official dignity, which quickly reduced the others to seriousness.

With the setting in of winter, Hagar’s experiences began in earnest. The mountains were a sealed barrier between her and the world, and she was entirely isolated in the stronghold of the Mormons. The snows were unusually heavy in the higher passes, and for four months, communication with the civilized world was almost suspended.

But withal, Hagar found the seclusion not unpleasant in her then state of mind, and soon became so much interested in the habits, practices, characters and beliefs of the people with whom her lot had been so strangely cast, that the time passed quickly. While remaining entirely free from the influence of their teachings, she observed closely every phase of their life with which she came in contact. Her circle of acquaintance was gradually extended, and included before the end of winter, all the principal families in the Capital of Zion.

She became a regular and welcome visitor at the prophet’s house, which was but a short distance from her home, and gave music lessons to some of his girls, and to those of a few other families who had pianos. To them she seemed a brilliant musician, and her gentle manners together with her other attractive qualities, gained her many friends.