“Before we left,” I said, “the Saints were all eager to emigrate.”
“Yes, dear,” she answered, “but nothing like they are now. You have no idea how excited and anxious everybody is. Some of the people, in order to obey counsel, sold their watches and jewellery, and even their best clothes, scarcely keeping enough for the journey, and every one who had any money gave it away. Brigham Young set a noble example in that; even the Gentiles would admire him if they knew all. Why, we had on board ship with us Brother Tenant, the rich new convert, who paid thirty thousand dollars for the property which Brigham Young so generously gave to help the Emigration Fund. He hardly had enough left to carry him and his family to Zion; and now he is going to cross the Plains with us, to settle in Salt Lake City. He is somewhere here among the emigrants, I believe, at the present moment, and you could ask him all about it if you liked. The brethren assure him that Brother Brigham is so liberal that he will get vastly more than the value of his thirty thousand dollars when he reaches Zion, and I hope he will, for I like both him and his wife.”
All this was thus far true, but it was with some misgivings that I heard Mary talk about it. Still I tried to persuade myself that it was a sin to doubt. How little did either of us imagine that after poor Mr. Tenant’s miserable death upon the Plains we should live to see his wife—destitute and defrauded of her property by generous-hearted Brigham—dragging out a miserable existence in Zion, and dependent even for a crust of bread upon the kindness of the brethren. And yet, as I have previously stated, this was how the Prophet, under the mask of liberality, contrived, for his own purposes, to cheat this unfortunate and too-confiding Saint.
Then we talked of what more nearly interested ourselves, and Mary asked me when Mr. Stenhouse and myself were coming out. I told her that it was quite uncertain, but that we expected to before long. “At any rate you will come out before the season is over?” she said.
“Most likely so,” I replied; “but you will be safely there and settled before we arrive.”
How little did she imagine the fearful scenes she was to witness—the terrible sufferings she was to endure—before the season she spoke of had passed away. Could I at that time have known all, I would have prayed that sooner than set out on that fearful journey she might find refuge in the grave from the horrors which, unknown to her, were brooding over her way.
We talked long, and then my husband joined us—Elder Shrewsbury was called away by some necessary duty—and when we parted it was with many promises to write frequently to each other of our common religious interests, as well as the welfare of ourselves and those we loved. Then I spoke with several other old friends, and we exchanged greetings with all sorts of people, for my husband wherever he goes is always sure to be upon speaking terms with almost everybody he meets.
The Hand-Cart Company left New York for Utah—a long and formidable journey at best—but in that instance, through mismanagement and neglect, one of the most fatal expeditions that imprudent man has ever undertaken; and it was not until months and months had passed away, and another season had come round, that we heard anything of their fate.
And time went on, but my troubles did not lighten. My husband still continued to work at the Mormon office, and after a while his salary was slightly increased from time to time; but still his earnings were altogether inadequate for the support of a family, and I found it absolutely necessary to obtain some employment for myself. It cost me many a long and weary day of search and inquiry, and many a battle with my pride, before I could get anything to do; but at last I was successful, and although my little ones required constant attention, I contrived to add a very decent quota to the scanty family purse.