Transcript

. . . when Father returned [from his mission to Kentucky] in 1850 and saw how well the family had been cared for and the good condition our belongings were in, he said: well, boy, it's now for Utah.

We began the journey in July, crossing the Missouri the 12th day of that month, this was in the summer of 1850. I was then 20 years old and was one elected, by the company with which we traveled, to hunt wild meat. When we struck the Platt[e] river we followed the old trail of the California gold hunters, a company on it's way to the Golden Gate had journeyed along that way a few weeks ahead of us and the trail was marked here and there with the newly made graves of it's members who had died with the cholera. It was not long before this dread disease struck our company and quite a number were taken away by it. Father took it but he had had it once before and directed Mother and myself how to take care of him. He suffered much but by our ministrations and our prayers he recovered.

On the 15th day of September we reached Salt Lake City, a small village, there were a few log cabins, adobe houses, sage brush and myriads of black crickets that ate up all the green stuff that grew.