Presently their chief came up and showed signs of peace. But as the Indians neither understood French nor English, and none of our travelers understood the Indian dialect, communication was difficult. One of the chiefs at last, produced a paper, stating that their tribe, the Cheyennes, was friendly to the whites. This being learned, the scene which looked so much like war a few moments before, was changed to one of feasting, the Indians, to their great delight, being treated to crackers, dried meat and tobacco.
The same evening Elder Taylor, with Lorenzo Snow and Bishop Hunter, visited their encampment, some three or four miles distant. They were informed by a Frenchman living with them that the tribe numbered six hundred warriors, and they were quite wealthy—well armed and mounted. The brethren visited a number of lodges and were well treated, though the Indians seemed a little chagrined at the occurrence of the morning. They undoubtedly intended their semi-warlike demonstration to frighten our travelers, perhaps make them take to the river; but as the rather practical joke failed, it left the jokers subject to ridicule.
On arriving at Kanesville the party were received by the Saints still remaining there with every demonstration of joy; and from thence Elder Taylor and several of the company made their way to St. Louis, where there were several strong branches of the Church, numbering upwards of three thousand members all told.
Here I insert a letter addressed by Elder Taylor from St. Louis to his family, not so much for items of history that it contains, as for the expression of his appreciation of family associations and enjoyments. We so frequently have seen him sacrifice the association of family and the comforts of home to carry the gospel to distant lands, and doing it so cheerfully, that it is just possible that those acquainted only with his public career may regard him as being indifferent to the fond endearments of home life. If such there be, let them read the following letter and learn that Elder Taylor possessed strong native attachments for his home and its holy relationships; and that his love for wives and children was not less intense because he sacrificed their companionship for the gospel's sake. It was not because he loved home and wives and children less, but that he loved the gospel more that he left them for its sake:
"My Dear Family:
"After a long absence I now sit down to write to you. I have been in this city about three weeks, and stayed in Kanesville about as long. I have been going leisurely along for the purpose of studying French, that I might be the better prepared to enter on my mission on my arrival in France. I have made some progress in the language and hope to be able to speak it on my arrival there. The Saints wherever I go treat me with the greatest kindness and hospitality.
"The latter part of our journey over the plains was a cold and dreary one, but the Lord was with us and protected us, and opened out our way before us. The snows fell on our right and left, before and behind, but we never encountered a snow storm until the last day. We arrived safe, however, and all is well.
"At Kanesville we were saluted with the firing of guns on our arrival, and the greatest manifestations of rejoicing, and parties, musical entertainments, etc., were gotten up. This has also been the case in St. Louis. Here the Saints have a magnificent hall and a splendid band and do things up in good style. * * * But these outward tokens of friendship are very little to me, when compared with the heart-felt joy, the kindly feeling, the sympathetic and warm-hearted brotherhood manifested by many of my old friends, hundreds of whom seem anxious in every possible way to promote my happiness, secure my company and have my blessing and friendship. On my arrival both here and in Kanesville the Saints flocked around me like bees; and the greatest trouble I have is that of not being able to fulfill the many engagements that have pressed themselves upon me.
"But,' say you, 'do you not think of us and home? and do you never think of me, and of me?' This is what I have been wanting to get at for some time, and this long, tedious preface has become wearisome to me—let me tell my feelings if I can. Home! Home! Home! What shall I say? can I tell it? No, a thousand times no! Your forms, your countenances, your bodies and your spirits are all portrayed before me as in living characters. You are with me in my imaginations, thoughts, dreams, feelings; true our bodies are separated, but there you live—you dwell in my bosom, in my heart and affections, and will remain there forever. Our covenants, our hopes, our joys are all eternal and will live when our bodies moulder in the dust. Oceans, seas, mountains, deserts and plains may separate us—but in my heart you dwell.
"Do I see an amiable, lovely woman—my feelings are not there, they fly to my home. Do I see a beautiful infant—hear the prattle of lovely innocents, or the symmetry and intelligence of those more advanced in years? My mind flies to my home—there I gaze upon my wives, there I fondle and kiss my children and revel for a time in this mental delight; but I awake from my reverie and find that it is but a dream, and that mountains, deserts and plains separate us! Do I murmur? No! Do you? I hope not—shall I not say for you, No?