Some persons feared our horses were too enfeebled to bear us over the mighty plain; but when the snows began to fall, winds swept our pathway, and enabled us to pass without difficulty, while on our right and left the country was deeply covered for hundreds of miles.
One day, as we were taking our noontide meal, and our horses were quietly grazing on the prairie; the following thrilling scene occurred. A startling call resounded through our little camp, "To arms! to arms! the Indians are upon us!" All eyes were turned in the direction, and we beheld a spectacle, grand, imposing and frightful. Two hundred warriors, upon their furious steeds, painted, armed and clothed with all the horrors of war, rushing towards us like a mighty torrent. In a moment we placed ourselves in attitude of defence. But could we expect, with thirty men, to withstand this powerful host? Onward rushed the savage band with accelerated speed as a huge rock, loosened from the mountain's brow, dashes impetuously downward, sweeping, overturning, and burying everything in its course!
We saw it was their intention to crush us beneath the feet of their foaming chargers. They approached within a few paces, and in another moment we should be overwhelmed, when lo! an alarm like an electric shock struck through their ranks and stayed their career, as an avalanche, sweeping down the mountain side, stops in the midst of its course by the power of a hand unseen. The Lord had said, "Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm."
Many incidents occurred which called forth the remark that in our past experience the hand of the Lord had never been more visibly manifested. When we arrived on the banks of the great Missouri, her waters immediately congealed for the first time during the season, thus forming a bridge over which we passed to the other side; this was no sooner accomplished than the torrent ran as before.
On arriving at Kanesville, we were saluted with shoutings, firing of cannon, songs of rejoicing, and other demonstrations of welcome. During the few days of our stay, we experienced universal kindness from the Saints. I shall never forget the parting with President Hyde, and the deep interest he manifested for myself and mission as he gave an affectionate farewell, and in the fulness of his soul implored the powers of heaven to protect me from evil in that stronghold of superstition, dark and benighted Italy.
I passed through Mount Pisgah and Garden Grove. At both places I much enjoyed the society of my old acquaintances. I proceeded to Nauvoo—I gazed upon its ruins—the direful work of mobocracy. My heart sickened as I contemplated that once beautiful city, filled with the songs of rejoicing, and all that was good and virtuous; where the voice of the Prophet had sounded forth upon the ears of thousands the deep and heavenly mysteries that had been concealed for ages. There we had met together, oft relating the sad tale of our past woes, the bitter cup of persecution of which we had taken such abundant draughts; there the old and the young had rejoiced together in the New and Everlasting Covenant. But now, O how sad the change! The moss was growing upon the buildings, which were fast crumbling down; the windows were broken in, the doors were shaking to and fro by the wind, as they played upon their rusty, creaking hinges. The lovely Temple of our God—once the admiration and astonishment of the world and the hope of the Saints, was burned, and its blackened walls were falling upon each other! Ever and anon a human head would be thrust through windows to gaze upon the traveler; but these people were not Saints—they who were dwelling in those houses, who walked those streets, believed not in Jesus, the Son of God—they were professed infidels.
Shortly after leaving Nauvoo, I visited another place of painful interest in the history of the Saints. If, on ordinary occasions, words are too weak to convey the feelings of the soul, where shall I find language to portray the thoughts that agitated my mind as I entered Carthage? There, but a few years before, was a scene over which my breast alternately glows and chills with horror and indignation. There an infamous mob were imbruing their hands in the blood of our beloved Prophet and Patriarch, Joseph and Hyrum. O Earth! Then flowed on thy cold bosom the blood of thy noblest and best. Who were those MARTYRED ONES? Ask the ministering angels from on high! Ask the demons of the dark abyss! Ask the mighty throng whom they have guided to peace, knowledge, wisdom and power! And who are they? My friends—the friends of millions, the friends of UNIVERSAL MAN.
Over that guilty place there seemed to hang the gloom of death, the emblem of the deed committed, and the foreshadowing of righteous retribution! Although fatigued and hungry, nothing could induce me to eat or drink among that cursed and polluted people.
In St. Louis, we found a large branch of the Church of nearly four hundred members. We were kindly received; and it was delightful to see them assembled in their spacious and beautiful hall. The completeness of their organization reflects the highest credit upon their officers.
On the twenty-fifth of March, I left New York on board the Shannon. I had a pleasant voyage over the great waters, and on the nineteenth of April, came in sight of Albion's shores. I never beheld a more lovely morning. Everything wore an enchanting appearance. A calm serenity rested upon the broad bosom of the waters. Old England lay before me, besprinkled with forms and multitudes of human dwellings, with beautiful hawthorn hedges and newly plowed grounds. Around, about on the water, in full view, were ships of all nations—some passing in one direction and some in another.