Transcript

In '61 I took another trip to the Missouri river. The war having just broken out we met many going west to escape draft. Many of the Mormon emigration had arrived from across the ocean. One afternoon one of the steers made a break for anybody in sight and went straight for Mr. T[homas]. B[rown]. H[olmes]. Stenhouse. The steer grazed him. Over he fell onto ox yokes, kettles, etc. He drew a long breath, exclaiming, "Oh, how I wish we were in Zion!" Sometimes the Utah trains would camp within sight of each other. Then the night herders would play tricks. W[illiam]. W. Riter and Joseph Weiler were night herders for our train. One moonlight night the sound of visitors running away woke me. There were about a dozen of us sleeping in a row. Riter was next to me and his fine black beard was shining with tar. I got a frying pan with some bacon grease left in it and soon had the tar loose, so it washed off easily.

I remained home three days after that trip, when I went again to Carson Valley, returning in December, 1861.