We were delayed in camp for two weeks, most of the carts had to be made. At this place John and I learned to swim in the river.
We stayed on this camp ground for two weeks. It was a sight to see 600 people pulling their carts through the cities and villagers of Iowa. People came out of their houses and jeered us. On we went, all happy and cheerful.
I was taken down with hemorrhage of the bowles. I was unable to walk, had to be hauled on Bro. Isaac J. Wardle and my brother’s John’s cart.
After reaching Florence a Doctor was consulted said I must not go another step or I would die and be buried on the road side. A captain named Tune [John Toone] would not administer to me, said he did not have faith enough to raise the dead.
Mother on hearing that Apostle F.D. Richards and C.H .Wheelock had arrived in camp got them to administered to me, they promised me I would live to reach the valleys.
All this time I was unconscious of what was going on.
The Doctor called again to see me, told father he would take care of the family and fit us out next year to pursue our journey. Father thanked him kindly, he plead with father to stop[,] said it was to late to make the trip, said when we reached the mountains we would be snowed in. We found his words to be too true.
The emigrants were called together to know their minds in regards to stop until the next year or go on. Voted to go on. On August 25th 1856 the company made a start. I not being able to walk, Isaac J. Wardle and Bro. John, only 15 years old, hauled me on their carts. We got along fairly well until we reached the mountains, then bad weather set in, snow storms came impeded our traveling. no one can describe the suffering we endured. Our rations consisted of 4 oz flour and nothing else did we have to eat.
One morning believing I could walk a little a head of the company. I got this privilege from my parents, my plan was to get away lay down under a sage brush and die. I saw my father and mother and my cart pass by, I streched out to die, just then a voice said, “Your mother is hunting you, jump up.” I saw mother in haste coming towards me, wanted to know what had gone wrong with me. I told her I had planned to lay down and die. I felt it was to much to pull me on the cart, at same time had as much luggage they could manage, scolded me a little. She reminded what I was promised by apostle F.D. Richard. I rode on a cart until the teams from the Valleys met us.
We camped at place after was called Martins Hole. We could not go any further for Snow
I saw a young lady age about 16 walking in the snow. She left the blood prints of her heels and toes on the snow. I am told her legs were amputated when she arrived in Salt Lake City
I refrain from writing about the suffering of these people. It never can or will be told.
On leaving this morning my bro. John saw the wolves devouring the bodies he had helped to bury the day before. He tried to drive them a way. He had to run for his life.
That morning in starting I was placed in a wagon on top of frozen tents. A very few oxen was left to haul or pull the few wagons. Made that about 4 miles when the Company stop that evening. Mother came around the wagons calling Langley. I could hear her calling. She could not hear me answer when she found me, lifted me out of the wagon my legs and arms was stiff like a frozen shirt. An ox was about to die. He was killed. Mother got some of the meat, boiled it, gave me some of the broth. it run through me like going through a funnel.
We met the rescuers near Devil's Gate. Log houses were pulled down, good fires was made of the logs. Provision were rather short on account of the teams being so long on the road; deep snows made traveling very slow.
We arrived in Salt Lake City Sunday noon coming out of Immigration Canyon. I was lifted up in the wagon could see houses in the distance. It was like the Israelites of old in beholding the promised land.