Newel set to work to try and assist the homeless ones and feed the poor. To this labor he devoted himself through the Winter.

In February he determined to go, with the rest of his brethren who were leaving the State, but did not know how it could be accomplished.

"Lydia, how are we to manage?

"The mob have killed all my stock but one cow, and we can't very well ride her, or drive her alone."

"Can you not make some turn with the cow so that some one will move us?"

"Perhaps! At least I can try."

After a time a man was found who consented to take them to the Mississippi river for the cow. Accordingly hasty preparations were made, and in the cold Winter, the snow piled up, sometimes to the hubs of the wagon, the husband took his wife and children a journey of two hundred miles.

The snow was scraped away to make their beds, and the cold was ofttimes intense.

Detained through unavoidable circumstances at a small place called Huntsville, they did not reach the river until the first part of May, crossing it and reaching the other side poor, destitute, but oh, so grateful to be once more free! Free to rest from travel and hardships! Free to lie down, and to rise up with their hearts and mouths full of God's praises! Free to live as their conscience prompted them, without the fear of mobs or persecutions!

Once across the river, a low marshy plain covered with grass, stretched away for miles and miles. Here and there a few belts of timber served to relieve the monotony of the landscape, and down swept the waters of the king of American rivers. This was the sight that greeted the weary eyes of our travelers. A small settlement had been started at this place, on the river bank, but the settlers soon deserted it for its unhealthiness was too great to admit of any one living here in comfort for any length of time. One or two empty deserted houses stood here and there, and were soon taken possession of by the first comers.

Our friends, like many others, camped out. They made themselves as comfortable as possible by sewing some of their bed-clothing and the wagon-cover together, thus forming a rude tent.

What a picture this first settling of the place afterwards called Nauvoo must have been! A few houses scattered about, and everywhere tents, bush wickeups and rude shelters of every description dotting the grassy plain. The grass was green, but damp and moist. The water was plentiful and clear, but warm, and over all brooded the wings of the fatal miasma. One by one the families who had been driven from their peaceful homes, found their way across the river and settled here in peace.

Brigham Young had taken charge of this moving host, and the poor were all carefully provided for and moved, through the indomitable energies of Brother Brigham. Joseph was still a prisoner, and so all this responsibility devolved upon the president of the Twelve. History and the grateful hearts of the Saints will testify how well that charge was executed.

A few weeks served to show the people how deadly was the air arising from the swamps and marshes around about.

The sick, infirm and aged were the first victims of the foul miasma. Then little children were prostrated.

Fevers of all kinds contracted in malarious countries were very prevalent. Great numbers of the strong—men and women who had borne every hardship without flinching, lay down in their beds and succumbed to the terrible disease. Ague dragged his shivering, shaking length from door to door, and there were not sufficient strong ones left to bury the dead. Specters instead of men crept slowly about laying those who were sleeping the last sleep in their dreary graves. Pestilence and fever were seated at every fireside. Even Joseph who had escaped from his enemies and came to Nauvoo, soon lay prostrate in his house, and even his yard was filled with the sick, the dying and the dead.

At last the spirit of the invincible Prophet rallied from this blow, and rising up by the power of God he commenced going about healing the sick. Hundreds were so healed; and as the brethren were healed they would arise and follow the Prophet continuing the glorious work. There was a change from this very day. The general health of the people began to improve.

Lydia had managed to wait upon her own ailing child and those of her neighbors who were the most helpless, notwithstanding her health was far from being good. Pale and weak she ministered unto those around her until September, when, worn out with her heavy labors and her body weakened by over-exertion, disease fastened itself upon her and she was prostrated.

For several days and nights she lay in a raging, burning fever, until it almost seemed as though her very flesh would be consumed upon her bones.

One day she called her husband to her bed and said:

"Newel, go and ask the Prophet to send me a handkerchief with his blessing."

"My dear wife, I do not like to trouble Joseph. You have no idea how worn down he is. He has asked the brethren to spare him as much as possible, for these constant never-ceasing calls upon him are depriving him of all his strength. I hope, my dear, you will soon be better."

The night came and passed and morning brought no relief to the weary sufferer.

Again she called Newel to her and entreated him to go to the Prophet and get a handkerchief with his blessing.

Newel went out, and in about half an hour returned, tied a handkerchief over her head saying:

"There, Lydia, is a handkerchief."

The sufferer experienced no relief from it, however, and rapidly grew worse.

A doctor was brought to her, and he tried his best to rally her, but all in vain. Thus one week passed.

One day Newel, seeing she was all but gone and was trying to speak to him, bent over her to catch the faint whisper,

"Newel, I am all but done with my suffering; good-by, dear one. You must do the best you can with the children. I cannot last much longer."

This was very brokenly whispered to the distracted man above her, who, as soon as she ceased, hurried away. Coming back soon, he called her; she knew him but was unable to reply.

"Here, Lydia, here is a handkerchief from the Prophet Joseph. Oh my wife, the one I brought before was not from him, I so hated to trouble him. But see this is from Joseph, and he says your Heavenly Father shall heal you, and you shall be restored to life and health."

The handkerchief was bound around her brow, and as it touched her head, the blessing sent with it, descended upon her; and over her and all through her was poured the spirit of healing. Sleep, so long a stranger to the poor afflicted one, closed her eye-lids in a quiet, restful, blessed slumber.

The hours came and fled, and in the quiet of midnight she awoke, and was like one who had been in a dark, loathsome dungeon, and was again free in the open air and sunshine. In the morning the physician came, and when he saw his patient, he exclaimed:

"Why, I never saw such a change in my life! That last medicine has worked like a charm, I wish I'd stayed and seen it operate. Her pulse is all right, her tongue is all right, and in fact she is comparatively a well woman."

After the docter had praised up himself and his medicine to his heart's content, Newel quietly reached the bottle down from the shelf, and said:

"Sir, there is the medicine you speak of. My wife has not tasted one drop of it."

"But what's the meaning of all this change then?"

"She has been healed by faith through the Prophet Joseph Smith."

After studying some time over the matter the docter said:

"Well it's a good thing to get well on any terms."

The good docter soon after departed, as he plainly saw his services were no longer needed. He was not a "Mormon," although a kind, worthy man.

That day Lydia arose and dressed herself, and went forth to her daily cares.

She found her oldest boy, Samuel, well, and full of a desire to help all he could. The little fellow would take his tiny pail and go to the river, thus supplying the family with all the water needed.

This was in the fall of '39, and her little girl was three years old. She also was well and trotting about the house at her baby plays. The babe James, was very ill. Fever had reduced him to a skeleton, and the mother's heart ached as she looked at his wasted body; but not once did she think of his dying.

Newel was also stricken down after this, and a young girl, Newel's niece, Harriet, who lived with them.

From one to the other went Lydia giving simple remedies, praying for them and doing all in her power to relieve their sufferings.

Once in a while the neighbors would come in and try to help her all they could, although they had their own sick ones at home to attend. Whenever they did come, they would say to her:

"Sister Knight, you can not keep that child; why do you cling so to him? You will displease our Father. Let him go, give him up, and his sufferings will be at an end."

"Oh I cannot think of such a thing!" replied the quiet woman. "Father Smith said in my blessing that my heart should not be pained because of the loss of my children. And I cannot, let him go because I feel that it is not the Lord's will that I should part with him."

On the Sunday following this, the child lay like a breathing skeleton. The skin drawn, the eyes glassy and the breath all but stopped.

The mother knelt over him in an agony of watchfulness.

"Oh Newel, what shall I do? He is sinking so fast. Tell me, advise me! I must do something, or he cannot live!"

The husband looked sadly from the sick bed where he lay, at his little child, but with more sorrow in his eyes for his distracted wife, and at last said:

"You can do no more. Give him up and ask God to soften this great blow to us both."

"Give him up," cried the mother, "give up my boy to the arms of the destroyer! It is impossible. I cannot give him up."

With burning eyes, but a determined heart she watched him through the long, silent hours of the night. The next morning early, the Prophet chanced to pass the house and Lydia ran out and asked him to come in and see her little child who was nigh unto death. He came in and going up to the child he was shocked at his appearance.

"He is sick indeed. I will tell you one thing more to do, and if that does not save him, you will have to give him up."

"I cannot give him up," the woman replied.

Joseph looked at her, into her clear, calm, determined eyes, and over his face came a peculiar heavenly smile, a smile that was so glorious in its meaning, and said:

"Sister Lydia, I do not think you will have to give him up."

Then, after a moment's thought, "you must send for Father Geo. W. Harris; take some warm water and soap, wash your child from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; then have Father Harris annoint him with holy consecrated oil from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet; and I think your child will live."

Lydia lost no time in obeying his words, and when the blessing was over she had the joy of seeing her child revive and he was healed.

On Thursday morning after, Joseph came in to see how the child was, and was pleased to find him restored to health.

"Now, Sister Lydia," he remarked as he was going away, "should your babe take a relapse, you know what has healed it before, do the same again."

That evening, the disease seemed to return and fasten itself closer than ever on the frail child.

Lydia immediately sent for Brother Harris, but he was away from home. The night was again spent in anxious watching.

In the morning she called in two brethren, and she and they repealed the former ceremony of washing and annointing the babe. As the brethrens' hands rested upon his head, a light shone down upon him, like a brilliant sunbeam from a cloudy sky. "The light" faded as they ceased, and the child was completely restored to health from that moment.