During the long winter months, I sought to keep up the spirits and courage of the Saints in Pisgah, not only by inaugurating meetings for religious worship and exercises, in different parts of the settlement, but also by making provisions for, and encouraging proper amusements of various kinds. These entertainments corresponded with our circumstances, and, of course, were of a very unpretentious and primitive character; their novel simplicity and unlikeness to anything before witnessed, added greatly to the enjoyment. They were truly exhibitions of ingenuity.
As a sample, I will attempt a description of one, which I improvised for the entertainment of as many as I could reasonably crowd together in my humble family mansion, which was a one-story edifice, about fifteen by thirty, constructed of logs, with a dirt roof and ground floor, displaying at one end a chimney of modest height, made of turf cut from the bosom of Mother Earth. Expressly for the occasion we carpeted the floor with a thin coating of clean straw, and draped the walls with white sheets drawn from our featherless beds.
How to light our hall suitably for the coming event was a consideration of no small moment, and one which levied a generous contribution on our ingenuity. But we succeeded. From the pit where they were buried, we selected the largest and fairest turnips—scooped out the interior, and fixed short candles in them, placing them at intervals around the walls, suspending others to the ceiling above, which was formed of earth and cane. Those lights imparted a very peaceable, quiet, Quakerlike influence, and the light reflected through those turnip rinds imparted a very picturesque appearance.
During the evening exercises, several of my friends, in the warmest expressions possible, complimented me and my family for the peculiar taste and ingenuity displayed in those unique and inexpensive arrangements.
The hours were enlivened, and happily passed, as we served up a dish of succotash, composed of short speeches, full of life and sentiment, spiced with enthusiasm, appropriate songs, recitations, toasts, conundrums, exhortations, etc., etc. At the close, all seemed perfectly satisfied, and withdrew, feeling as happy as though they were not homeless.
In Pisgah, my family was composed of the following individuals: Mary Adaline (my eldest wife); Hyrum, Orville and Jacob, her sons by a former husband; Charlotte, Sarah Ann, Harriet Amelia. Porter and John Squires continued as members of my family until we arrived in Salt Lake Valley, and, in fact, till I returned from my Italian mission.
All of the women above mentioned were sealed to me as my wives in the Temple at Nauvoo, where we all received our second anointings.
In Pisgah, Charlotte gave birth to a daughter (my firstborn), which we named Leonora, after my eldest sister. Also Adaline gave birth to a daughter, named Rosetta, after my mother.
Little Leonora was taken sick and died, and with deep sorrow we bore her remains to their silent resting place, to be left alone, far from her father and the mother who gave her birth. Sarah Ann also gave birth to a daughter, named after my sister and her mother, Eliza Sarah.
Before the spring opened and grass grew sufficient to sustain our stock, we were under the necessity of felling trees, to feed our animals upon the buds and twigs, to keep them alive.