The Women of Mormondom

by Edward W. Tullidge

And what of the Mormon women? Around them circles almost a tragic romance. Fancy may find abundant subject for graphic story of the devotion, the suffering, the matchless heroism of the sisters, in the telling incident that nine children were born to them the first night they camped out on Sugar Creek, February 5th, 1846. That day they wept their farewells over their beloved city, or in the sanctuary of the temple, in which they had hoped to worship till the end of life, but which they left never to see again; that night suffering nature administered to them the mixed cup of woman's supremest joy and pain.

But it was not prayer alone that sustained these pilgrims. The practical philosophy of their great leader, daily and hourly applied to the exigencies of their case, did almost as much as their own matchless faith to sustain them from the commencement to the end of their journey. With that leader had very properly come to the "Camp of Israel" several of the twelve and the chief bishops of the Church, but he also brought with him a quorum, humble in pretensions, yet useful as high priests to the saints in those spirit-saddening days. It was Captain Pitt's brass band. That night the president had the brethren and sisters out in the dance, and the music was as glad as at a merry-making. Several gentlemen from Iowa gathered to witness the strange, interesting scene. They could scarcely believe their own senses when they were told that these were Mormons in their "flight from civilization," bound they knew not whither, except where God should lead them "by the hand of his servant."

Thus in the song and the dance the saints praised the Lord. When the night was fine, and supper, which consisted of the most primitive fare, was over, some of the men would clear away the snow, while others bore large logs to the camp-fires in anticipation of the jubilee of the evening. Soon, in a sheltered place, the blazing fires would roar, and fifty couples, old and young, would join, in the merriest spirit, to the music of the band, or the rival revelry of the solitary fiddle. As they journeyed along, too, strangers constantly visited their camps, and great was their wonderment to see the order, unity and good feeling that prevailed in the midst of the people. By the camp-fires they would linger, listening to the music and song; and they fain had taken part in the merriment had not those scenes been as sacred worship in the exodus of a God-fearing people. To fully understand the incidents here narrated, the reader must couple in his mind the idea of an exodus with the idea of an Israelitish jubilee; for it was a jubilee to the Mormons to be delivered from their enemies at any price.

At one point on their journey the citizens of a town near by came over to camp to invite the "Nauvoo Band," under Captain Pitt, to come to their village for a concert. There was some music left in the brethren. They had not forgotten how to sing the "songs of Zion," so they made the good folks of the village merry, and for a time forgot their own sorrows.

These incidents of travel were varied by an occasional birth in camp. There was also the death of a lamented lady early on the journey. She was a gentle wife of a famous Mormon missionary, Orson Spencer, once a Baptist minister of excellent standing. She had requested the brethren to take her with them. She would not be left behind. Life was too far exhausted by the persecutions to survive the exodus, but she could yet have the honor of dying in that immortal circumstance of her people. Several others of the sisters also died at the very starting. Ah, who shall fitly picture the lofty heroism of the Mormon women!

CHAPTER XXXII.

CONTINUATION OF ELIZA R. SNOW'S NARRATIVE—ADVENT OF A LITTLE STRANGER UNDER ADVERSE CIRCUMSTANCES—DORMITORY, SITTING-ROOM, OFFICE, ETC., IN A BUGGY—"THE CAMP"—INTERESTING EPISODES OF THE JOURNEY—GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF THE METHOD OF PROCEDURE—MOUNT PISGAH—WINTER QUARTERS.

The subject and action of the exodus thus opened, we shall let the sisters chiefly tell their own stories of that extraordinary historic period. Eliza R. Snow, continuing her narrative, says:

"We had been preceded by thousands, and I was informed that on the first night of the encampment nine children were born into the world, and from that time, as we journeyed onward, mothers gave birth to offspring under almost every variety of circumstances imaginable, except those to which they had been accustomed; some in tents, others in wagons—in rain-storms and in snow-storms. I heard of one birth which occurred under the rude shelter of a hut, the sides of which were formed of blankets fastened to poles stuck in the ground, with a bark roof through which the rain was dripping. Kind sisters stood holding dishes to catch the water as it fell, thus protecting the new-comer and its mother from a shower-bath as the little innocent first entered on the stage of human life; and through faith in the great ruler of events, no harm resulted to either.

"Let it be remembered that the mothers of these wilderness-born babes were not savages, accustomed to roam the forest and brave the storm and tempest—those who had never known the comforts and delicacies of civilization and refinement. They were not those who, in the wilds of nature, nursed their offspring amid reeds and rushes, or in the recesses of rocky caverns; most of them were born and educated in the Eastern States—had there embraced the gospel as taught by Jesus and his apostles, and, for the sake of their religion, had gathered with the saints, and under trying circumstances had assisted, by their faith, patience and energies, in making Nauvoo what its name indicates, 'the beautiful.' There they had lovely homes, decorated with flowers and enriched with choice fruit trees, just beginning to yield plentifully.