After a time a man was found who consented to take them to the Mississippi river for the cow. Accordingly hasty preparations were made, and in the cold Winter, the snow piled up, sometimes to the hubs of the wagon, the husband took his wife and children a journey of two hundred miles.
The snow was scraped away to make their beds, and the cold was ofttimes intense.
Detained through unavoidable circumstances at a small place called Huntsville, they did not reach the river until the first part of May, crossing it and reaching the other side poor, destitute, but oh, so grateful to be once more free! Free to rest from travel and hardships! Free to lie down, and to rise up with their hearts and mouths full of God's praises! Free to live as their conscience prompted them, without the fear of mobs or persecutions!
Once across the river, a low marshy plain covered with grass, stretched away for miles and miles. Here and there a few belts of timber served to relieve the monotony of the landscape, and down swept the waters of the king of American rivers. This was the sight that greeted the weary eyes of our travelers. A small settlement had been started at this place, on the river bank, but the settlers soon deserted it for its unhealthiness was too great to admit of any one living here in comfort for any length of time. One or two empty deserted houses stood here and there, and were soon taken possession of by the first comers.
Our friends, like many others, camped out. They made themselves as comfortable as possible by sewing some of their bed-clothing and the wagon-cover together, thus forming a rude tent.
What a picture this first settling of the place afterwards called Nauvoo must have been! A few houses scattered about, and everywhere tents, bush wickeups and rude shelters of every description dotting the grassy plain. The grass was green, but damp and moist. The water was plentiful and clear, but warm, and over all brooded the wings of the fatal miasma. One by one the families who had been driven from their peaceful homes, found their way across the river and settled here in peace.
Brigham Young had taken charge of this moving host, and the poor were all carefully provided for and moved, through the indomitable energies of Brother Brigham. Joseph was still a prisoner, and so all this responsibility devolved upon the president of the Twelve. History and the grateful hearts of the Saints will testify how well that charge was executed.
A few weeks served to show the people how deadly was the air arising from the swamps and marshes around about.
The sick, infirm and aged were the first victims of the foul miasma. Then little children were prostrated.
Fevers of all kinds contracted in malarious countries were very prevalent. Great numbers of the strong—men and women who had borne every hardship without flinching, lay down in their beds and succumbed to the terrible disease. Ague dragged his shivering, shaking length from door to door, and there were not sufficient strong ones left to bury the dead. Specters instead of men crept slowly about laying those who were sleeping the last sleep in their dreary graves. Pestilence and fever were seated at every fireside. Even Joseph who had escaped from his enemies and came to Nauvoo, soon lay prostrate in his house, and even his yard was filled with the sick, the dying and the dead.