Transcript

When we left our home in the old country, I had all of my children with me and was happy, but now I am alone. Dave was my baby when we crossed the plains. We had lots of trouble, many took sick and died. They had to be buried there on the plains with nothing to make their graves but a rock or piece of iron. My baby did not escape the disease as we trudged along in the hot sun. Sometimes we would ride a short distance. My baby was very sick. An epidemic of black measles had broken out. Every day seemed to find him worse, but we never gave up hope.

One day the captain of our company came to me and said, "Sister you cannot carry that child another day, you will have to stop here with him for he will never live" . . . I could not think of doing that, so I knelt in humble prayer and asked God to make my baby well. We went to bed that night and when morning came my baby was much better and I was able to go on again. In a short time he was well. I thank my Heavenly Father for that and other blessings I have received. And never have I neglected to say my prayers since then.

We arrived in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1861 after a long and tiresome journey.