What living contradictions we were as we crossed the Plains—singing in a circle, night and morning, the songs of Zion and listening to prayers and thanksgivings for having been permitted to gather out of Babylon; and then during the day as we trudged along in twos and threes expressing to each other all our misgivings, and doubts, and fears, and the bitterness our thoughts against Polygamy; while each wife, confiding in her husband’s honour and faithfulness, solaced herself with the hope that all might yet be well. How little sometimes do the songs of gladness reflect the real sentiments of the heart. How often have I heard many a poor heart-broken woman singing the chorus,—
“I never knew what joy was
Till I became a Mormon.”
I never could sing that song, for my experience had been exactly the reverse.
It was the month of September—the beginning of our beautiful Indian summer—when we emerged from the cañon, and caught sight of Salt Lake City. Everything looked green and lovely, and in spite of all my sad forebodings while crossing the Plains, I involuntarily exclaimed, “Ah, what a glorious spot!” It looked like a beautiful garden—another Eden—in the midst of a desert valley. We had a glimpse of the Great Salt Lake far away in the distance, stretching out like a placid sheet of molten silver, while everywhere around were the lonely-looking snow-clapped mountains, encircling us like mighty prison-walls.
It would be impossible for me to describe my feelings at that time. Even while I was enchanted with the glorious prospect before me, there arose again in my mind that haunting spectre of my existence—Polygamy. I believed that this little earthly paradise would probably be to me, and my daughters after me, a prison-house, and with a mother’s instinct I shuddered as I thought of what they might be destined to suffer there. Lovely as the scene was, there was a fatal shadow overhanging it all. Then, too, there was no escape: if the sad forebodings of my heart were realized, it would be utterly impossible for us ever to get away. The idea of a railway being constructed across those desert plains and rocky mountains never for a moment entered my mind, and even had I thought it possible, I should have supposed that it would take a lifetime to complete. No, there was no help for me, even if it came to the worst. I felt that my doom was sealed; and there were many women in our company who thought just the same as I did, and who were troubled at heart with fears as sad as mine.
My first impressions of Salt Lake City when we began life there were anything but pleasant—we had to “rough it.” For nearly two weeks we were obliged to remain in our waggons, as it was quite impossible to obtain house-room. At that time each family built their own little hut, and there were no vacant houses to let.
VIEW OF MAIN STREET, SALT LAKE CITY.
(From a Photograph.)