Transcript

Florence contained but few inhabitants and they were mostly transient keepers of stores, drawn hither by emigration. A short distance from this place, we pitched our tents for about one month. While camped here a very heavy wind, rain and thunder storm for a while compelled us to our tent poles and in spite of the efforts of the inmates, many were blown down. Joseph W. Young, then emigration agent, was seriously injured by a wagon being blown over upon him, and was incapacit[at]ed for business for some time. Several others were injured. At length, all preparations being completed we moved camp, traveling to Elk Horn river, from this time with an occasional day of rest to repair wagons, shoe oxen, wash, etc., we continued our journey through the fertile plains of Nebraska, our oxen enjoying its luxuriant pastures and the effects of daily feasts in pedestrianism, such as we workshop hands had to perform (as we were loaded so heavily we were compelled to walk, with the exception of Mother [Elizabeth Isom] and baby Franklin Howard. They had the privilege of riding in no great amount of comfort upon the load,) gave us an appetite that made us ever ready for our meals. My mother's solicitude in my behalf on account of my not eating but little changed to a desire for more time and convenience to supply us.

The crossing of Soup [Loup] For[k] Ferry was to us boys quite an interesting time, as it occupied considerable time in crossing, and having no teams to drive, we rolled about in the stream a good share of the day. The stream being shallow in places, we would ride over the deeper channels, and then jump out and push as the boat grazes the sands.

As we approached the Rocky Mountains, the face of the country changed rapidly in appearance. The pleasant prairies no longer cheered the eye or refreshed the oxen with their luxurient herbage. Sage plains, stretches of sand, barren wastes and rocky steeps were more the prominent characteristics of the country. Our oxen began to loose strength and flesh and upon reaching Greenriver [Green River], my father [Owen Isom] was compelled to sell one yoke of oxen on account of their poverty, and buy one that had not suffered from the fatigue of a march across the plains. Many others were compelled to do likewise.

Cold nights and mornings now began to warn us of the near approach of winter. A destination and find a settled abode to shelter from the coming storms, was now our problem.

At the Weber River we were met by my brother William. We were much pleased to behold him again and at a point so near the termination of our journey as to make us feel at home. In Parley's Canyon we lost an ox for such a length of time that we almost gave him up and the train moved on, but upon ascending a very high hill overlooking the canyon, we could discern him in a dense growth of willows. We descended in haste and driving him before us followed the team, but did not again overtake it until we arrived in the camp in Salt Lake City.