Captain Edward Bunker was appointed to conduct us through. We started on our way West June 24, and arrived safe at Florence, and stopped there two weeks, and left for the plains July 30. I had always been isolated from the Church, so that I had not one particular friend; I seemed to travel all alone. I was allowed to bring 15 pounds of baggage; this was put on the cart with a man and his wife. This man had a wooden leg, his name was Thomas Evans, and he lives at Spanish Fork. He soon gave out in the deep sands of Nebraska, and his wife and myself took the cart all the way to Laramie. When the man got better, I became lame while we were traveling in the Black hills, I had rheumatism in my ankles and had to give up pulling the cart. I made a friend of one of the teamsters, and he put a small bundle on the wagon for me, after Captain Bunker had refused to do so, and then I was free to walk alone. There was one man in the camp I shall always remember with gratitude, his name is John Cousins, he lives at Bear Lake. He has carried me on his back through many rivers, and when Captain Bunker put me out of the wagon at Laramie River, he picked me up and carried me through the water.
We finally came to Green River, and I was behind the camp; there was no one in sight and it was near sundown. I sat down and thought this is the last. After a while I began to ask myself what brought you here? I called myself a coward. So I got up and asked the Lord to help me, and prepared to wade the river; and the Lord did help me, and I got safe to the camp just as they were preparing to come after me. But the next morning I could not stand; I had been chilled through. Brother David Grant, then the Captain of our one hundred, was sent for and had me lifted into one of the wagons for the forenoon, and gave orders to the teamster that I should wade no more rivers, and the order was obeyed.
We arrived in Salt Lake City, Oct. 2, and camped on what is now the University Square, where we partook of a good supper after a fast of thirty hours.