We have in our town one of the members of the ill-fated Martin’s hand-cart Company. Sister Jane Griffiths Fullmer was a member of the Martin’s Company that had such a terrible experience. She was only a child 8 years old, but she will never forget what she went through. Here are a few of the incidents as she remembers them. “We were six in family when we started, father, two brothers, my stepmother, a sister 16 years old and myself. It seems strange that more men and boys died than women and girls. My two brothers died on the way and my father the day after we arrived in Salt Lake. The night that my oldest brother died there were 19 deaths in camp. In the morning we would find their starved and frozen bodies right by the side of us; not knowing when they died until day light revealed the ghastly sight to us. I remember two women that died while sitting by me. My mother was cooking some cakes of bread for one of them. When she had passed one to her she acted so queer then tossed it in the fire and dropped over dead. I remember distinctly when that terrible snow storm came how dismayed the people were. We were in a pitiable condition before, but the snow made it look hopeless. My stepmother took my little brother six years old by the hand and myself and helped us along the best she could while sister and Father floundered through with the hand cart. How we did flounder through that snow, tumbling over sage brush and crying with the cold and hunger. Then, when we camped, they had to scrape a place to camp in and there was not much to make fires with. The rations of food became scarce. There were 4 ounces daily for an adult and 2 for a child and sometimes a little piece of meat. O I’ll never forget it, never! When we arrived in Salt Lake we were taken to the assembly room and the people were asked to take as many into their homes as they could take care of. My father and mother were taken to one place, my sister and I each to another. I did not see my father again, he died the next day. My mother was employed as a cook at the Townsend Hotel. I stayed three weeks at the place where I was taken, then Brother Mullener, the one who had taken Father into his home, heard that I was to be sent to the poor house in Provo and he said “Never as long as I have a home.” So he brought a wheel barrow with some quilts and pillows in and took me to his home where I stayed all winter, being in bed all the time. I did not stand on my feet until the 6th of March. I lost the first joint of six of my toes. My stepmother then carried me the 12 blocks to a man’s home who had been a friend of father’s. He said he would keep me. I went there on my 9th birthday. Mother would carry me as far as she could then put me down in the snow and we would cry a while and then go on.[”]