"Oh," said they, "it's those d—d Mormons, let them burn up and go to h—."
The whole family rushed down to the fire and tried to stop its progress but all to no avail. The pigs could not be driven out, and were literally roasted alive. The barn, sheds, pens and every combustible thing went down before the relentless flames. Farm implements of every description, even the grain to the amount of hundreds of bushels, were burned. The flames swept towards the house. Then how they worked. Everything movable was got out, and the roof was torn off; and the men commenced pouring water on the walls to save them.
"Alas for the rarity of Christian charity." If a few brave men had given help when the fire was first discovered, much might have been saved. But when it was all over, and Bro. Eldredge and William had thrown themselves on the ground completely exhausted, and the only Christian who had helped them, Mr. Root, had gone home in the same condition, Mary sat outdoors with a few of her household goods broken and scattered around her, her two weeks' old babe wailing in her arms, and all that was left of their comfortable home, the empty, blackened, smoking walls of the house looming up in twilight fast falling around her! Hundreds of cart loads of burnt grain were carted away for the next few days and buried. How many bright hopes and happy plans were buried at the same time, only the future would tell! The roof was speedily put on again, and things inside made as comfortable as might be.
Bro. Eldredge still advised going out to Utah with what means they could scrape up, but William would only shake his head despondently and say, "I don't see how I can do it."
Mary urged all she dared, for she knew the Elders were about to leave for home. It was no use. The only answer she got was, "not now, Mary, not now."
He found an opportunity about that time of going up into the country a hundred miles with some freight. While he was away a gentleman came to the farm-house and wished to buy the goodwill of the farm.
You will remember William had rented it for twenty-one years. About fourteen years of the lease had expired. The improvements, etc., always went with the lease. So when this gentleman offered to pay three hundred pounds ($1,400) for the remainder of the lease, or the "good-will," as it is termed in that country, Mary thought it a very fortunate thing.
The loss by fire had exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds, or about sixteen or seventeen hundred dollars of our money; and Mary thought if she could sell the lease of the farm, then they could sell what stock and personal property was left them, that making perhaps another two hundred pounds, which might get them all to America. So she sold it; knowing, however, that the bargain would not be legal unless ratified by her husband. She hoped, though, that he would see things as she did. When William reached home Mary told him what she had done.
"Humph; I suppose you know it's of no use unless I give my word, too?"
"Oh, yes," said Mary, sorry to know her husband was so annoyed, "you can, of course, upset it all."