An Englishwoman in Utah: The Story of a Life's Experience in Mormonism

by Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse

“I then took hold of the cross-bar or handle of the cart, and numbed with the cold, and trembling in every limb, it was as much as I could do to raise it from the ground. To move the cart was impossible, so I appealed to the old folks again, and they exerted all their strength to push it from behind, and our combined efforts at length succeeded; but the chief weight fell upon me. How gladly I bore it; how gladly I would have borne anything for the mere chance of saving my dear husband’s life, your own heart can tell.

“The snow drifted wildly around us, and beat in our faces so blindingly that we could hardly proceed. The greater part of the train had passed on while we delayed on account of my husband, and now every one was making the most desperate efforts to keep up with the rest; to be left behind was death. Had I been asked whether under any circumstances I could have dragged that heavy cart along in all that storm, I should certainly have replied that it would be utterly impossible; but until we are tried we do not know what we can bear. It was not until the night came on, and we pitched our tents, that I realized what I had passed through.

“They helped me to carry my husband to the tent, and there we laid him, and I tried to make him as easy as was possible under the circumstances, but comfort or rest was altogether out of the question. All that night I sat beside him, sometimes watching, sometimes falling into a fitful sleep. I did not believe that he would live through the night. In the morning he was by no means improved, and then I felt too truly the abject misery of our position. It is a painful thing to watch at the bedside of those we love when hope for their recovery is gone; but think what it must be to sit upon the cold earth in the tent, upon the open desert, with the piercing wind of winter penetrating to the very bones, and there before you, the dear one—your life, your all on earth—dying, and you without a drop of medicine, or even a morsel of the coarsest nourishment, to give him. Oh, the bitterness of my soul at that moment! I tried to pray, but my heart was full of cursing; it seemed to me as if even God Himself had forgotten us. The fearful misery of that dark hour has left on my soul itself a record as ineffaceable as the imprint of a burning iron upon the flesh.

“The morning broke at last, dark and dreary, and a thick heavy mantle of snow covered all the camp; but we contrived to communicate with each other, and soon it was whispered that five poor creatures had been found dead in the tents. Want, and weariness, and the bitter cold, had done their work, and we did not weep for them—they were at rest; but for ourselves we wept that we were left behind—and we looked at one another, wistfully, wondering which of us would be taken next.

“We buried those five poor frozen corpses in one grave, wrapped in the clothing in which they died, and then we comforted each other as best we might, and left the dead who were now beyond our reach, that we might do what we could for those who were fast following them to the grave. A meeting of the leaders was held, and it was resolved that we should remain where we were until the promised supplies reached us. We could not, in fact, do otherwise, for the snow was so deep that it was impossible for us to proceed, and the sick and dying demanded immediate attention. That morning, for the first time, no flour was distributed—there was none. All that remained, besides our miserable cattle, was a small quantity of hard biscuit which Captain Willie bought at Laramie, and a few pounds of rice and dried apples. Nearly all the biscuit was at once divided among the whole company, and the few pounds which remained, together with the rice and apples, were given to Elder Chislett for the use of the sick and the very little children. They also killed two of the cattle and divided the beef. Most of the people got through their miserable allowance that very morning, and then they had to fast.

“Captain Willie set out that morning with another Elder to meet the coming supplies and hasten them on, and as we saw them disappear in the distant west we almost felt as if our last hope departed with them, so many chances there were that we should never see them again.

“The whole of that long, long day I sat beside my husband in the tent—and I might almost say I did no more. There was nothing that I could do. The little bedding that was allowed for both of us I made up into a couch for him; but what a wretched makeshift it was! And I got from Elder Chislett a few of the dried apples which had been reserved for the sick; but it was not until nightfall that my husband was capable of swallowing anything—and then, what nourishment to give to a sick man! The day was freezing cold, and I had hardly anything on me, and had eaten nothing since the day before; for my mind was so agitated that I do not think the most delicate food would have tempted me. God alone knows the bitterness of my heart as I sat there during all that weary day. I never expected to see my husband open his eyes again, and I thought that when evening came I would lie down beside him, and we would take our last long sleep on earth together.

“When night came on and all was dark I still sat there; I dreaded to move lest I should learn the terrible truth—my husband dead! I looked towards the place where I knew he was lying, but I could see nothing. I listened, and I fancied that I heard a gentle breathing—but it was only fancy. Then, louder than the incessant moaning of the wind, I could hear in the distance a fearful cry—a cry which had often chilled our hearts at midnight on the plains—it was the wolves! The darkness grew darker still—so thick that one could almost feel it; the horror of death seemed stealing over all my senses. Oh that there might be one long eternal night to blot out for ever our miseries and our existence. I threw my hands wildly above me, and cried bitterly, ‘Oh God, my God, let me die!’

“God was nearer to me than I thought. As my hand dropped lifelessly to the ground it touched some moving thing—it was my husband’s hand—the same hand which I had watched in the twilight, stiffening, as I thought, in death. The long, thin fingers grasped my own, and though they were very, very cold, I felt that life was in them; and as I stooped down to kiss them I heard my husband’s voice, very weak and feeble, saying in a whisper, ‘Mary.’ I threw myself upon his bosom. In a moment the fear of death—the longing for death—the wild and terrible thoughts, all had gone; the sound of that voice was life to me, and forgetful of his weakness, forgetful of everything but him, I threw myself upon his bosom and wept tears of joy.