could be gathered into it, and yet so far from civilization, that mobs could not come at night to burn and whip and kidnap. Strange as it may seem, this vision formed the most entrancing theme of our conversations, and the national song of Switzerland became our favorite hymn:

    "For the strength of the hills we thank Thee,
    Our God, our father's God."

Chapter 3.

Petition Governors.—Wm. C. Staines, Captain James Allen.

   Push on, push on, ye struggling Saints,
     The clouds are breaking fast.
   It is no time to doubt or faint;
   The Rubicon is past.

   Behind us storms and rivers lie;
      Before the sun shines bright,
   And we must win or we must die—
      We cannot shun the fight.

On the 11th of April the main camps moved forward again. There being now more sunshine and the roads firmer, better progress was made; and on the 18th they reached the middle fork of Grand river. Here President Young selected another farm, and all hands were set at work fencing, plowing, and planting. This place was named Pisgah, and Wm. Huntington, E. T. Benson, and C. C. Rich were chosen to preside. The counsel given at Garden Grove was repeated here. The policies were to be the same. Brigham's whole soul was thrown into the work, and this can be as truly said of his associates, the Twelve. They were united in their counsels. They thought of everything and of everybody. They gave much thought and anxiety toward the poor who were left in Nauvoo and these farms were established for their benefit. Brigham and Heber remained at Pisgah until June 2nd, when they and the main camp pushed on again. We were now in the Pottawattamies' land, but the Indians received us kindly—I might say, even in a brotherly manner. They said, "We have plenty of grass and wood, and our Mormon brothers are welcome to all they want." This kind reception by the Red men touched a tender spot in the hearts of the Latter-day Saints. It was like a ray of sunshine in a dark day; a glimmer of light to a benighted traveler.

Before leaving Nauvoo, the Twelve had addressed petitions to the governors of every state in the union asking for an asylum for our people. Only two states deigned to reply. Governor Lucas of Iowa wrote a kind reply, expressing his personal sympathy, but advising us to leave the confines of the United States. This we did not wish to do, for we were Americans and loved our country. My grandfather was a Revolutionary soldier and served under General Washington in three campaigns. My father was proud of that record, and transmitted his feelings of loyalty to his children.

But now the nation through representatives had risen against us—we were forced to go. Senator Cass wrote that we had better go to Oregon; but to go there we had to pass through powerful tribes of Indians, and we feared lest their tomahawks should be turned against us.

However, the reception given us by the Pottawattamies encouraged us; and President Young, ever ready to grasp an inspiration and to act promptly, quietly sent a few discreet men to labor as missionaries among the Indian tribes. One of these men, Wm. C. Staines, is worthy of note. He was a young English boy, a late convert to the faith, small in body, and so deformed as to be almost a cripple; yet he had a soul and an ambition as grand and lofty as the immortal Wolfe's.

He penetrated the Indian tribes as far as the Sioux, by his sacrifices and force of character won their friendship and made impressions that opened the way for our people to pass through their lands in peace.

From Pisgah westward the country was wild, with no roads running in the direction we wished to; for we had now left civilization, and I have sometimes thought that we felt like Adam and Eve when cast out of Eden. The world indeed was before us, but the richest and loveliest part was behind us, and a flaming sword guarded it on every side so that we could not return.

However, the people were cheerful and as the weather was pleasant, camp life had an air of romance that amused the young.

On the 14th of June President Young and the main camps struck the Missouri river. As it would require some time to construct ferry boats, a place was selected on the high lands near by and named Council Bluffs. The tents were pitched in a hollow square and a brush bowery was erected in which to hold our meetings.

As we had no lumber, saw pits were erected, and men suitable for that labor having been selected, under the direction of Frederick Kesler the work of sawing planks was commenced.

In the meantime provisions were becoming scarce. Small companies were organized under the leadership of capable men, and sent down into Missouri to trade off our watches, feather beds, shawls, and any other articles that could be spared. While God did not rain manna down from Heaven for the sustenance of the impoverished Saints, still there was a Providence over them for good, for conditions had been brought about that made food cheap. The northwestern settlements of Missouri had been blest with bounteous harvests. Their cribs were full of corn, and the forests were full of hogs, with no market for either. The Missourians were therefore eager to take our beds and give us their surplus food.

Toward the close of the last day of June, Captain James Allen of the United States army, with a small escort rode into our midst. Instantly the camp was filled with a nervous, tremulous excitement. Who is he? What does he want? These were the questions that flew from lip to lip.

Soon the voice of Brigham was heard: "Attention, Israel! We want all the people to assemble in the bowery at ten o'clock tomorrow. We have matters of importance to present to them."

The shadows of evening rested down upon the camp, then the stars rose in the east and slowly ascended to the meridian of the heavens. Still the camp fires burned and men talked with bated breath wondering what the morrow would bring forth. A spirit of unrest brooded over the white city and many an eye had not closed in sleep when the golden flashes of light appeared in the east.

I am not writing these sketches from a theological standpoint, or to make converts to the Mormon faith. I was there. I heard, I saw, I suffered, and am trying to write as I felt and still feel.

At ten o'clock the people assembled in the bowery, and began services by singing Cowper's inspired hymn:

   "God moves in a mysterious way
       His wonders to perform,
    He plants his footsteps in the sea,
       And rides upon the storm.
    Ye fearful Saints fresh courage take,
       The clouds ye so much dread
    Are big with mercy and will break
       In blessings on your head."

After an earnest prayer, President Young introduced Captain James Allen, who said in substance that he had been sent by President Polk to ask for five hundred of our young men to enlist in the army and go to California to fight the Mexicans. And now let an abler pen than mine speak a few words:

"Imagination can alone picture the surprise, almost dismay, with which this startling news was received! The nation whose people had thrust them from its borders and driven them into the wilderness, now calling upon them for aid? And this in full face of the fact that their own oft reiterated appeals for help had been denied!"

Captain Allen affirmed that President Polk's heart had been touched by our sufferings and that this was done as an act of kindness! An act of kindness! Was it not rather a deep-laid plan to bring about our entire destruction? If we refused, then disarm us and the Indians would soon finish the job.

From that day to this it has been a debated question among the Mormon people as to what