I cast my eyes towards the canoes and they looked very tempting, and I know not but I might have been tempted to charter one without the leave of the owner, but just then I saw a boy of ten or twelve years of age playing about the water. I asked him if he was accustomed to paddling a canoe. He replied, yes. I then offered him a good price if he would set me across the river. He refused to do this, saying that his parents would whip him for so doing. But, said he, "I will set you over on to yon big island, which is one mile from here; you can then walk a mile or two through the woods and come to the opposite shore of it, and then shout and make signs to the people on the Illinois shore, who will come across their half of the river and take you from the island." He observed that people had often crossed over in this way. I hardly believed him, but still I thought an uninhabited island was preferable to staying another minute in Missouri.
The boy soon set me over and left me on the shore of the island, pointing out my course as well as he could. I paid him well, and then commenced my overland journey, among nettles, flies, mosquitoes and heat. I was soon entangled in thickets of hazel, thorn and grape vines, which made my progress very slow, as well as extremely laborious and difficult. These, however, were soon intersected with sloughs of mire and water, which could only be crossed with the utmost difficulty, by picking my way on old logs and wood, and sometimes wading in mire and water. After crossing several of these I at length came to one much larger, which I judged was navigable for a steamboat, and I now found, to my inexpressible horror and disappointment, that he had deceived me. I had now no alternative left but to make my way back through the same difficulties I had just passed, and to the shore where he had just left me, and then I should have no other chance but to call and make signs to the Missouri shore, which I had just left with so much joy, and, as I hoped, forever. This was at length accomplished, and I had the inexpressible joy of seeing my sign answered by the same boy, who soon came paddling to me. As soon as his canoe touched the island I bounded into it, and said to him with a determined tone and manner, "you have deceived me my boy, so now you have to go to the opposite shore if you never went before, and I will then pay you another dollar, which will pay you, even if your parents chasten you for going." We now headed up the current, and, after a painful and laborious exertion of an hour or two, we doubled the cape at the head of the island, and shot off across the river at a rapid rate.
We soon landed in the woods in a low bottom, with no signs of inhabitants, although while crossing I had seen some houses on the shore a mile or two below. I now paid the boy his dollar, and he pushed off and commenced his way back exceedingly well pleased. I immediately stepped a few paces into the woods, and, kneeling down, kissed the ground as a land of liberty, and then poured out my soul in thanks to God. I then arose and made my way down the river for some two miles through woods and swamps, and finally came to a house. I entered it, determined to call for something to eat; no one was in but a little boy, but he said his mother would be in two or three minutes. I asked him for some milk, and he gave me a vessel which was full, probably containing between one and two quarts. I intended only to taste of it to keep me from fainting, and then wait till the woman came, and ask her leave to drink the remainder, as it was all she had; but once to my famishing mouth it never ceased to decrease till it was all swallowed; I now felt somewhat abashed and mortified at what I had done, but concluded money would pay all damages. Hearing the footsteps of the woman at the door, I was fixing my mouth for an awkward apology, when I heard a sudden scream; on looking up, Mrs. Sabery Granger stood before me, with both hands lifted up in an ecstacy of amazement. I said to her, "be not afraid—handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as you see me have." She exclaimed, "why, good Lord, is that you? Why all the world is hunting you—both friends and enemies; they had almost given you up." She then flew around, scolded the children, talked to the ducks and chickens to keep out of the house and out of the garden, and not stray off. She washed my feet, gave me some clean stockings, got me some dinner, told me a thousand things about our friends, asked five hundred questions, laughed, cried and again scolded the children and chickens.
This over and dinner eaten, she on with her bonnet and accompanied me to her husband, who was clearing a small spot of land nearby. (I had forgotten to say that this woman had been one of our nearest neighbors in Ohio for several years.) Her husband now dropped his work, and accompanied me as a guide for five miles across a wet, low, untimbered bottom, covered mostly with high grass and stagnant water, and entirely destitute of shade or refreshment of any kind. The air was now extremely sultry, and the sun poured in scorching beams, while we could get no water to drink, nor any rest or retreat for a moment. To sit down the tall grass under these scorching rays, without a breath of wind, would be overwhelming.
I had not proceeded more than a mile or two before I became so weak and faint that I could hardly speak or stand, and parched with a burning thirst. I was upon the point of lying down in the hot and stagnant water, but he took me by the arm and partly supported me, and drew me along for some distance, exhorting and begging of me to try my utmost to hold up a little longer. In this way I finally reached the upland and the shade of a fence, within about half a mile of a settlement of the Saints and other citizens, which extended along the bluff. I dropped down under the shade of this fence, and fainted entirely away; the man ran to the house of a Brother Brown and got some cool spring water and a little camphor, and was returning with it Sister Brown, who had never seen me, came running before him to my relief; while they were yet distant I had partly come to, and feeling a dreadful faintness at my stomach, and a raging thirst which knew no bounds, I made an effort to arise and run towards them, at the same time making signs for them to hasten; I staggered a few paces like a drunken man, and again fell to the earth. This singular appearance, and my dirty clothes and long beard so frightened the woman that, instead of hurrying, she halted till the man came up with her, and then she exclaimed, "It cannot be Elder Pratt, of whom I have heard so much—it must be some old drunkard." But the man assured her it was me, and they then came on together. They bathed my temples and wrists in cold water and camphor, and finally gave me a spoonful or two at a time to drink. In about half an hour I was so far revived as to be able to arise and be led to the house. I then shaved and washed myself, and borrowed a change of linen, and got into a comfortable bed.
Next morning I felt quite refreshed, and, after resting through the day, I was so far recruited as to be able to mount a horse at evening and ride towards Quincy, which was still twenty-five miles distant. Brother Brown furnished me a good horse and saddle, and himself another, and we started for Quincy in high spirits just as the sun was setting. We rode on at a brisk rate, and arrived in Quincy at about two o'clock the next morning. Riding up to the dwelling which (from the partial recollection of Mr. Brown, as well as from the fact of my two Missouri cows lying before it quietly chewing their cud) we judged was my wife's residence, we dismounted and gave a gentle knock at the door. She had watched for four successive nights and most of the fifth, and had now just lain down and given up all for lost. On hearing the knock she sprang from bed and opened the door, and in another instant I had clasped her in my arms.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Opinions of the Press:—Extracts from the "Columbia Patriot:"—"Banner of Liberty:"—"Boone's Lick Democrat:"—"Saturday News:"—"Missouri Republican:"—"New York Sun:"—"Quincy Argus:"—Minutes of a Public Meeting in Quincy:—"New York Commercial Advertiser:"—Public Meeting in New York:—Closing Remarks.
Extract of a letter from A. W. Turner, member of the Legislature of Missouri, dated City of Jefferson, November 31st, 1838, originally published in the Columbia (Missouri) Patriot :
"The Mormon war is the most exciting subject before the Legislature or the community; it involves an inquiry the most critical of any ever presented to the Legislature of this country; one in which the rights of a portion of the free citizens of the State is concerned, on the one side, and the rights of another portion of the same citizens on the other. Upon the decision of this subject the character of the State is suspended. If, upon full investigation, it is found (and reported by the committee to the Legislature) that the Mormons are not the aggressors, and that some of them have been murdered, others driven from the State by military force, and others imprisoned by order of the Executive, then our character will be established as the most lawless invaders of religious and civil rights."