The weather was extremely cold, and the morning we bid adieu to our honorably and honestly acquired transitory home, and much property which we were obliged to leave, after assisting what I could, I started before the teams, to warm my feet by walking. While musing on the changing and wonderful vicissitudes of mortal life as I walked quietly and alone, I was interrupted in my meditations by the approach of one of the militia. After the usual salutations of "Good morning," he said: "I think this will cure you of your faith." I looked him in the eye, and, with emphasis, replied, "No, sir, it will take more than this to cure me of my faith." His countenance dropped, and he said, "Well, I must confess you are a better soldier than I am." And we parted.
It took two days to go by team to Far West, and seventy-five persons, pilgrims like ourselves, put up at our stopping place for the night. It was a small vacated log house of one room only, which was the general nightly resort of people traveling from Di-Ahman to Far West. As we found it, the chinkings between the logs had been torn out, leaving open spaces through which gusts of wind had free play. When we arrived, the provisions we brought were solidly frozen, and the crowd of people was so dense, we could not avail ourselves of the fire. But we must have supper, and we could not eat hard frozen bread, and we adopted the following: The boys milked our cows, and before the milk was strained, one of us held the dish while another sliced the bread, and the third strained the warm milk into it, which thawed the bread; thus one after another, until all were plentifully served.
Bed time came, but there was no room for beds, except for the sick, and, indeed, there was very little sitting room. Our mother was quite feeble through fatigue and exposure, and we managed to fix a place for her to lie down, while our sister and myself sat on the floor, one on each side, to ward off the crowd. I can well remember that ever memorable
