“When he spoke to me in that way—you know how, Sister Stenhouse”—she said in her impulsive way, “How could I persist in saying No to him? It wasn’t in my heart to do so. I didn’t say ‘Yes’ in so many words, but I simply said nothing, and he took my silence for consent. Then—but no, I won’t even tell you everything.... I know he thought he was going to have it all his own way; but I didn’t think so. I told him then that I had firmly resolved upon one thing—that I never would marry him unless he made a solemn vow and promise before God that he would never enter into Polygamy. I could not hide from him that I loved him—he knew it and could see it; but I said I never would go to Utah alone, and I certainly never would marry at the risk of my husband taking another wife. No; I was willing to give him my heart, my all—it was only fair for him to do the same by me.... He was very near me then, and my hand was in his; and he was looking into my eyes. Then he whispered the promise I had asked of him, and, dear Sister Stenhouse, I know I can depend upon his word. We shall be happier in this world by ourselves, and we feel quite sure that God will not ask us to do anything in heaven that would make us miserable. Perhaps I oughtn’t to say this, but I’m so happy that I cannot allow myself one single wretched doubt about the future or my husband, such as I used to have.... We were married on the 27th of January....
“And now we are getting ready for Zion, and are busy day and night. Of course you have heard of the “Divine Plan”—the Hand-Cart Scheme. Oh, Sister Stenhouse, I am so very, very much ashamed of myself for all the wicked things that I used to say about the Apostles and the Elders. Since our marriage, Elder Shrewsbury has explained everything to me, and set things in their right light. It is a glorious privilege for us to be permitted to gather to Zion, and now that I know my dear husband will never even think of another besides myself, I glory in the thought of leaving the Gentile world and all its wickedness....
“We go with the first company this season.
“I will tell you all the rest of the news when I meet you, dear.”
So Mary Burton was married, and coming with the Hand-Cart Company. “Why,” I said, turning to my husband, “they’ll be here in a day or two now.”
“Perhaps to-day,” he replied.
They did not, however, arrive either that day or the next; but towards the end of the week we were told that their vessel was in the river, and I accompanied my husband to Castle Gardens to see them.
A strange spectacle was presented to our view. More than six hundred Mormon emigrants were gathered there, all on their way to Zion, and burning with zeal and enthusiasm worthy of a better cause. There were aged men and women, whose heads were hoary with the snows of many a winter, and whose tottering steps had borne them to the verge of three score years and ten; there were stout-hearted fathers and families, and matrons with sons and daughters growing up around them; there were young men in the pride and strength of manhood; and maidens in the modest blush of womanly beauty; and little toddling children, and babes in their mothers’ arms—all obedient to what they thought was the command of God Himself—all with their faces set steadfastly and anxiously Zionward.
Let not the reader smile at the blind infatuation of those poor emigrants. Would he or she have suffered so confidingly—so faithfully—for his or her religion? They might be mistaken; but truly theirs was a faith which “hoped all things, believed all things, endured all things.” Surely, in His sight—who judges the heart—the blind obedience of those men and women who were ready to suffer and to endure unto the bitter end, because in their child-like faith they thought that it was His holy will—such practical devotion was more truly acceptable than the formal professions of an untested faith.