Pay, Mary Goble, Autobiographical sketch 1896-1909, 2-5.
On the first of August we started to travel with our ox teams unbroken, and we did not know a thing about driving oxen. My father [William Goble] had bought two yoke of oxen and one yoke of cows, a wagon and a tent. He had a wife [Mary Penfold Goble] and six children. Their names were Mary, Edwin, Caroline, Harriet, James and Fanny.
My sister, Fanny, broke out with the measles on the ship and when we were in Iowa Camp ground there came up a thunder storm that blew down our shelter, made with handcarts and some quilts. The storm came and we sat there in the rain, thunder and lightning.
My sister got wet and died the 19th day of July, 1856. She would have been two years old on the 23rd.
The day we started on our journey we visited her grave. We felt very bad to leave our little sister there.
We traveled through the States until we came to Council Bluffs. Then we started on our journey of one thousand miles over the plains.
It was about the 1st of September. We traveled from 15 to 25 miles a day. We used to stop one day in the week to wash. On Sunday we would hold our meetings and rest. Every morning and night we were called to prayers by the bugle.
The Indians were on the war path and were very hostile. Our Captain, John Hunt, had us make a dark camp. That was to stop, and get our supper, then travel a few miles, and not light any fires; but camp and go to bed. The men had to travel all day and guard every other night.
One night the cattle were in the corral, which was made with wagons, when one of the guards saw something crawling along the ground. All in a moment the cattle started. It was noise like thunder. The guard shot off his gun. The animal jumped up and ran. It was an Indian with a buffalo robe on. Mother and we children were sitting in the tent. Father was on guard. We were surely frightened but father came running in and told us not to be afraid for everything was all right.
We traveled on till we got to the Platte River. That was the last walk I ever had with our mother. We caught up with the Hand Cart companies that day. We watched them cross the river. There were great lumps of ice floating down the river. It was bitter cold.
The next morning there were fourteen dead in camp through the cold. We went back to camp and went to prayers. They sang, "Come Come, Ye Saints No Toil Nor Labor Fear." I wondered what made my mother cry. That night my mother took sick and
the next morning my little sister was born. It was the 23rd of September. We named her Edith. She lived six weeks and died for the want of nourishment.
We had been without water for several days, just drinking snow water. The Captain said there was a spring of fresh water just a few miles way. It was snowing hard but my mother begged me to go and get her a drink. Another lady went with me. We were about half way to the spring when we found an old man who had fallen in the snow. He was frozen so stiff we could not lift him. So the lady told me where to go and she would go back to Camp for help for we knew he would soon be frozen if we left him. When she had gone I began to think of the Indians and looking and looking in all directions I became confused and forgot the way I should go. I waded around in the snow up to my knees and I became lost. Later when I did not return to camp the men started out after me. It was 11:00 o'clock before they found me. My feet and legs were frozen. They carried me to camp and rubbed me with snow. They put my feet in a bucket of water. The pain was terrible. The frost came out of my legs and feet but not out of my toes.
We traveled in the snow from the last crossing of the Platte River. We had orders not to pass the Hand Cart companies. We had to keep close to them so as to help them if we could. We began to get short of food, our cattle gave out. We could only travel a few miles a day. When we started out of camp in the morning the brethern would shovel snow to make a track for our cattle. They were weak for the want of food, and the buffaloes were in large herds by the roads and ate all the gress.
When we arrived at Devil's Gate it was bitter cold. We left lots of our things there. There were two or three log houses there. We left our wagon and joined teams with a man named James Barmon. He had a sister, May, frozen to death. We stayed there two or three days. While there an ox fell on the ice and the brethern killed it and the beef was given out to the camp. My brother James ate a hearty supper, and was as well as he ever was when he went to bed. In the morning he was dead.
My feet were frozen, also my brother Edwin and my sister Caroline had their feet frozen. It was nothing but snow. We could not drive the in our tents. Father would clean a place for our tents and put snow around to keep it down. We were short of flour but father was a good shot. They called him the hunter of the camp, so that helped us out. We could not get enough flour for bread as we got only a quarter of pound per head, a day, so we would make it like thin gruel. We called it skilly.
There were four companies on the plains. We did not know what would become of us. One night a man came to our camp and told us there would be plenty of flour in the morning for Brother Brigham Young had sent men and teams to help us. There was rejoicing that night. We sand [sang] songs, some danced and some cried. He was a living Santa Claus. His name was Eph. Hanks.
We traveled faster, now we had horse teams.
My mother had never got well, she lingered until the 11th of December, the day we arrived in Salt Lake City 1856. She died between the little and big mountains. She was buried in the Salt Lake City Cemetery. She was 43 years old. She and her baby lost their lives gathering to Zion in such a late season of the year. My sister was buried at the last crossing of the Sweet Water.
We arrived in Salt Lake City at nine o'clock at night, the 11th of December, 1856. Three out of the four that were living were frozen. My mother was dead in the wagon.