By this time we had reached his camp. I took breakfast with him, and he continued to interest me by telling me he was after a fellow by the name of Young. I asked him what Young. He said "John R." I told him I had heard of him; but had never met him. He said Young had gone to New Mexico to hunt him a home; but would soon return by way of Blake, and he was going to wait for him.

We rode together until we reached the San Rafael. There we parted, as I was going to the Iron Springs to look at a bunch of cattle I thought of buying. That night, about midnight, I reached my little home in Huntington, and found my wife Tamar very feeble. She had lost her babe, and was still suffering with her breast and mutilated hand, the result of her fainting and falling out of the wagon when fleeing to avoid arrest and imprisonment for having become a plural wife when there was no law making it a crime.

During the crusade, I suffered my family to become scattered. It was one of the errors of my life. The principle of plural marriage came from God; and when honestly lived up to, it purifies the life and enlarges the soul. On the same reasoning, since the Manifesto was adopted, it should be honored, because it came from God, for the temporal salvation of his people.

And now that plural marriage is barred by law, that does not justify men, when in power, in being cruel and oppressive, as some of the judges and many of the marshals were. The intent of the law is to render justice, tempered with mercy; but in this suppression of polygamy in Utah, the Roman idea, that to the "victor belongs the spoil" was adopted; and I felt then, as I do now, that it was unjust and cruel.

Chapter 35.

Salt Lake Valley in 1847.

Salt Lake Valley, as it lay in eighteen forty-seven,
Was a desert desolate. Its parched wastes were given
As a play ground for the hot winds that in whirlpools
Sent clouds of alkali dust whirling through the air,
Poisoning with its white breath the scant vegetation existing there.
And in the summer, from the grey, sunburned bench lands,
Looking westward, the glimmering lake, and the glistening sands
Of the great American desert, met the traveler's view.
Forming a horizon, beyond which no white man knew.
Only the red man whispered, "Not many moons ago
A train of white men's wagons passed along the southern shore,
Vanished in the murky mirage, and were seen no more;
Save one, who with tattered clothes, emaciate, and footsore,
Came to our camps, and with feverish greed—
Snatched our cricket meal, and wild grass seed;
By signs explained that all his friends were dead,
That he alone was left, the backward trail to tread."
No more was learned, and this gruesome view
Was magnified by Bridger, to the exiles of Nauvoo.
The pioneer camp was silent, no boisterous laughter there;
Each step was still and careful, each word a whispered prayer.
In Wilford Woodruff's carriage, the Prophet Brigham lay
Burning with mountain fever, no skill of theirs could stay.
O Father, spare thy servant—we need his helping hand
To guide Thy people's footsteps, till they reach the promised land.
No power but Thine can save him. Shall thy people plead in vain?
Stay Thou, the burning fever that is racking him with pain.
They were camped in Echo Canyon, between those massive walls
That send back an echo to the thunder's pealing calls.
But the very voice of nature seemed hushed upon that day
And the peace of God came to them; a peace that came to stay.
Again the voice of Brigham, like Joseph's, rings out clear;
'Tis firm, bold, and decisive, banishing doubt and fear;
"Let Orson Pratt and Erastus Snow move on with half the train,
And when you reach the Valley, go northward o'er the plain
Till you strike a mountain brooklet; then camp and sow your grain,
And you shall reap a harvest. Push on, and do not doubt—
For it shall be our Zion, the "land of rest, sought out."

Upon the mountain-top, the weary band stood still
And watched their pale-faced chieftain, the man of iron will,
Who had freed the hosts of Israel from mobocratic power,
And held that host together, until the present hour.
When George M. Hinkle faltered, and betrayed our prophet guide,
'Twas Brigham's faith and courage that stayed the treacherous tide,
That flowed from Boggs' scheming, to sweep the Church aside;
With matchless skill and wisdom, checkmated Benton's plans
By sending a battalion to fight the Mexicans.
Even President Van Buren, with Benson as his aid,
Was fairly circumvented at the cruel game they played.
'Tis true we lost our city, the beautiful Nauvoo,
'Twas sacked, and desecrated, by Brockman's heartless crew.
And these, the fleeing exiles that stood upon that hill,
Had faith in their great leader—they loved his iron will;
But the scenes that lay before them stretched e'en the chords of faith—
Were they going to destruction? Had they found their burying place?
Was death to be the outcome, the answer to their prayer?
Were they, their wives and loved ones, Donner's fate to share?

O think, you pious Christians, who drove them from their land,
Could you have stood the trials of that heroic band?
They place upon the altar the treasures of the soul,
The hope of an existence, to God they gave the whole.
And God, who ever watches over his faithful ones,
Sent down the bow of promise; it came through Brigham Young.
"I have seen this land in vision; I saw the tent come down
And rest upon the summit of yonder rising ground.
There we will build a temple, a resting place for God,
And His Spirit will requicken the hill and valley sod."
These were the sweetest sayings that mortals ever heard;
It was the balm of Gilead, Jehovah's healing word.
They will stand through endless ages as Brigham's crowning act;
The strength and inspiration that founded a commonwealth,
Where the love of God, and liberty, will dwell in every soul,
And Columbia's sons, in righteousness, will govern and control.
Then the honored name and memory of Brigham Young shall be
A legacy as priceless as the boon of liberty.

UTAH'S PIONEERS

Written July 24, 1918