Transcript

Then I remember the preparation of the family with others to come to the valley, of them breaking cows to lead on a wagon of three yoke of cattle. I remember spending several days in a large camp on the banks of the Missouri River, the crossing of the river on a flat boat and of trailing my hand along in the water, of the cattle being swum across the river and then the trip across the plains.

I remember the camps, the gathering of buffalo chips to make fires, and of the singing around the campfire. I was then eight years of age. We started in the Spring of 1850 and reached Salt Lake City in September. I remember our camp above what was then a little town. Uncle James Guymon came to meet us two or three days before we reached Salt Lake Valley. I remember seeing him ride up horseback, as we were driving the cattle ahead of the wagons. We were so delighted to see him.

Then the picture of Salt Lake, a little town with a red rag on a stick nailed upon the log room to show that merchandise was for sale there and another log room with tin cups hanging outside to show that tinware and hardware was for sale there.