Parley P. Pratt

Spring of 1848:—Scarcity of Provisions:—"Harvest Feast:"—Arrival of President Young and Company:—Gold Fever:—Explore Southern Utah.

January 1st, 1848.

The opening of the year found us and the community generally in good, comfortable, temporary log or adobe cabins, which were built in a way to enclose the square commenced by the pioneers, and a portion of two other blocks of the city plot. Here life was as sweet and the holidays as merry as in the Christian palaces and mansions of those who had driven us to the mountains.

In February we again commenced to plough for spring crops, while I had the happiness to behold the tender blade of my wheat and rye clothing a few acres with a beautiful green, pleasingly contrasted with the gray, wild, wormwood and other traits of our dreary solitude; while similar pleasing sights stretched away in the distance, marking the bounds of agriculture as possessed by my neighbors.

March 25th—My oldest son Parley celebrated his birthday with a family party—being then eleven years of age.

After dinner, in presence of the assembled family, I related the circumstances of his being a promised child, with an account of his birth, his history, and the death of his mother. I reminded him that he was my first born—my heir, both to estate and priesthood. I exhorted him to prepare to walk in my footsteps, and to do good and serve God and his fellow men by a well ordered life, and by laying hold of knowledge and a good education. I rehearsed to him my own sufferings, and the sufferings of my family, and of the Church while in the States—telling him of the murder of our prophets and Saints, and how we had been driven to the mountains, robbed and plundered of a very large amount of property and possessions. The day was spent most pleasantly and profitably by all.

I continued my farming operations, and also attended to my ministry in the Church. Devoting my Sabbaths and leisure hours to comforting and encouraging the Saints, and urging them to faith and persevering industry in trying to produce a first harvest in a desert one thousand miles from the nearest place which had matured a crop in modern times.

We had to struggle against great difficulties in trying to mature a first crop. We had not only the difficulties and inexperience incidental to an unknown and untried climate, but also swarms of insects equal to the locusts of Egypt, and also a terrible drought, while we were entirely inexperienced in the art of irrigation; still we struggled on, trusting in God.

During this spring and summer my family and myself, in common with many of the camp, suffered much for want of food. This was the more severe on me and my family because we had lost nearly all our cows, and the few which were spared to us were dry, and, therefore, we had no milk to help out our provisions. I had ploughed and subdued land to the amount of near forty acres, and had cultivated the same in grain and vegetables. In this labor every woman and child in my family, so far as they were of sufficient age and strength, had joined to help me, and had toiled incessantly in the field, suffering every hardship which human nature could well endure. Myself and some of them were compelled to go with bare feet for several months, reserving our Indian moccasins for extra occasions. We toiled hard and lived on a few greens and on thistle and other roots. We had sometimes a little flour and some cheese, and sometimes we were able to procure from our neighbors a little sour skimmed milk or buttermilk.

In this way we lived and raised our first crop in these valleys. And how great was our joy in partaking of the first fruits of our industry.

On the 10th of August we held a public feast under a bowery in the center of our fort. This was called a harvest feast; we partook freely of a rich variety of bread, beef, butter, cheese, cakes, pastry, green corn, melons, and almost every variety of vegetable. Large sheaves of wheat, rye, barley, oats and other productions were hoisted on poles for public exhibition, and there was prayer and thanksgiving, congratulations, songs, speeches, music, dancing, smiling faces and merry hearts. In short, it was a great day with the people of these valleys, and long to be remembered by those who had suffered and waited anxiously for the results of a first effort to redeem the interior deserts of America, and to make her hitherto unknown solitudes "blossom as the rose."

During this autumn our little colony was reinforced by the arrival of President Young and family, accompanied with large trains of emigrants, amounting in all to several thousands. Under his wise counsels city lots were given out, and people began to build on them and vacate the forts. I obtained some lots south of the Temple square, and built a temporary adobe house, where I soon removed with most of my family. Here, in our new habitation, we spent the remainder of the year.

January 1st, 1849—Our city now began to take form and shape, and to be dotted here and there with neat little cottages, or small temporary buildings, composed of adobes or logs. The roofs were generally of poles or timbers covered with earth. Saw mills were now in operation, and a few boards were obtained for floors, doors, etc. Our happy new year passed off merrily, and we were probably as happy a people as could be found on the earth.

February 12th—I met in council with the First Presidency and members of the Twelve, in which certain vacancies in our quorum were filled. We were then instructed to assist in reorganizing the different quorums here, and in establishing righteousness. We accordingly met with the Presidency almost daily, and proceeded to organize and ordain the Presidency of the High Priests quorum, the Presidency of the Stake at Salt Lake City, with its High Council, and to divide the city and county into wards and ordain a bishop over each. In these and similar duties, and in meeting with my quorum and teaching and preaching in the several branches of the Church my time was chiefly spent until spring.

March 15th—was appointed by a General Convention as one of a committee of ten to draft a constitution for the Provisional State of Deseret.

March 18th—The committee reported, and the Convention unanimously adopted the constitution.

I devoted the fore part of the summer to farming; but, my crop failing, I commenced in July to work a road up the rugged canyon of Big Canyon Creek. I had the previous year explored the canyon for that purpose, and also a beautiful park,* and passes from Salt Lake City to Weber River eastward, in a more southern and less rugged route than the pioneer entrance to the valley. Emigrants now came pouring in from the States on their way to California to seek gold. Money and gold dust was plenty, and merchandise of almost every description came pouring into our city in great plenty.

[Footnote] *Since called Parley's Park.

I soon so far completed my road as to be able to obtain a large amount of fuel and timber. In November I ceased operations in the canyon and broke up my mountain camp and returned to the city.

I now received a commission from the Governor and Legislative Assembly of the State of Deseret to raise fifty men, with the necessary teams and outfit, and go at their head on an exploring tour to the southward.

This company was soon raised, armed, equipped, and ready for a march into the dreary and almost unknown regions of Southern Utah.

I will here give the list of names composing the company, and also a short summary of the report that I gave in to the Legislative Assembly on our return.

PARLEY P. PRATT, President.
W. W. PHELPS, D. FULMER, Counselors;
ROBERT L. CAMPBELL, Clerk.

February 7th, 1850:

FIRST TEN: Isaac C. Haight, Captain. Parley P. Pratt, William Wadsworth, Rufus Allen, Chauncey West, Dan. Jones, Hial K. Gay, George B. Mabson, Samuel Gould, Wm. P. Vance.

SECOND TEN: Joseph Matthews, Captain. John Brown, Nathan Tanner, Sterling G. Driggs, Homer Duncan, Wm. Matthews, Schuyler Jennings, John H. Bankhead, John D. Holiday, Robert M. Smith.

THIRD TEN: Joseph Horn, Captain. Wm. Brown, George Nebiker, Benjamin F. Stewart, Alexander Wright, James Farrer, Henry Heath, Seth B. Tanner, Alexander Lemon, David Fulmer.

FOURTH TEN: Ephraim Green, Captain. Wm. W. Phelps, Charles Hopkins, Sidney Willis, Andrew Blodgett, Wm. Henry, Peter Dustin, Thomas Ricks, Robert Campbell, Isaac H. Brown.

FIFTH TEN: Josiah Arnold, Captain, Jonathan Packer, Christopher Williams, Stephen Taylor, Isaac B. Hatch, John C. Armstrong, Dimick B. Huntington.

Our company had 12 wagons; 1 carriage; 24 yokes of cattle; 7 beeves; number of horses and mules, 38.

Average in flour, 150 lbs. to each man; besides crackers, bread and meal. One brass field piece; firearms; ammunition in proportion.

At Captain John Brown's, on Cotton Wood, 23d of November, 1849, at 2 P.M., a meeting of the company for exploring the south was convened. Called to order by P. P. Pratt, who gave instructions relative to the necessity of peace, order and good feelings being preserved during this expedition. Supported in this by W. W. Phelps and David Fulmer.

Voted, That Parley P. Pratt be President of the company. That W. W. Phelps and David Fulmer be his Counselors; carried unanimously.

Voted, That John Brown be Captain of Fifty; carried unanimously.

Voted, That W. W. Phelps act as Topographical Engineer; carried unanimously.

Voted, That Ephraim Green be Chief Gunner; carried unanimously.

During our exploring expedition we encountered severe weather, deep snows, and many hardships and toils incident to such an undertaking. We explored the best portions of the country south from Great Salt Lake City to the mouth of Santa Clara, on the Rio Virgin, which is a principal branch of the Rio Colorado. Our distance in going and returning was (counting the direct traveled route as afterward opened), between seven or eight hundred miles. In much of this distance we made the first track; and even the portion which had before been penetrated by wagons was so completely snowed under that we seldom found the trail.

It was during these toils, and perils, and amid the snows of these regions, that I composed the song, beginning, "O, come, come away, from northern blasts retiring," which became a favorite with the singers in camp, and seemed to beguile the tedious winter evenings around our camp fires.

I here give a few extracts from my journal while on our return trip:

January 21st—Having been on our homeward journey for some twenty days, and it snowing severely, we remained in camp. This day I was taken very sick of a bilious attack, and was confined to my bed. We held a council, and finding that our provisions would only sustain half of our company till spring, and traveling with the wagons was impossible, we decided upon leaving half the company to winter there with the wagons and cattle, and the other half, with some of the strongest mules and horses, should attempt to reach Provo—the southern frontier—distance upwards of one hundred miles. The company that remained were mostly young men without families. My counselor, David Fulmer, being placed in command. It was in a country of shrub cedars, which would afford some shelter for the animals, and richly clothed in bunch grass, and some portions of the hill sides where the snow had blown off being nearly bare, the cattle could live.

January 22d—In the morning I was still sick, but about noon bid farewell to those who stayed, mounted a mule, and, with upwards of twenty men and animals, we commenced our wallowing in the snow. We made about nine miles, and camped in a cedar thicket. Being unable longer to sit on my mule, or stand on my feet, the snow was shoveled away, some blankets spread, and I lay down. I had not eaten one mouthful for a day or two, but vomited many times very severely.

Wednesday, 23d—I was better, and we again started, the snow being from three to four feet deep on a level. The men went ahead on foot, the entire company, men and animals, making but one track. The person breaking the track would tire out in a few moments, and, giving place to another, would fall into the rear. This day we made nine or ten miles, and camped in a mountain pass, thirteen miles south of the Sevier River.

Thursday, 24th—It was long after night when we wallowed into camp, waist deep in snow; and, shoveling away the snow, we made fires, spread our blankets, and sank down to rest, being entirely exhausted—our animals either tied to cedar bushes without food, or wallowing up the hills in search of bare spots of bunch grass.

Friday, 25th—We were obliged to leave several of our animals which gave out. We passed through Round Valley, made about ten miles, camped on the heights, some four miles south of the Sevier. It was still snowing; our animals found some bunch grass on the hill sides.

Saturday, 26th—In the morning we found ourselves so completely buried in snow that no one could distinguish the place where we lay. Some one rising, began shoveling the others out. This being found too tedious a business, I raised my voice like a trumpet, and commanded them to arise; when all at once there was a shaking among the snow piles, the graves were opened, and all came forth! We called this Resurrection Camp. Passing on, we forded the Sevier, and camped on the heights, six or seven miles north of the same, the snow this day being much less.

Sunday, 27th—Our provisions being nearly exhausted, Chauncey West and myself volunteered to take some of the strongest animals and try to penetrate to Provo, which was still some fifty miles distant, in order to send back provisions to the remainder, who were to follow slowly.

We started at daylight, breaking the way on foot, and leading the mules in our track, and sometimes riding them. Traveled all day, averaging about knee deep in snow. Camped at eleven at night on Summit Creek, extremely hungry and feet badly frozen. We built a small fire, it being the coldest night we had ever experienced, and after trying in vain to thaw out our frozen shoes, stockings and the bottoms of our drawers and pants, we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and lay trembling with cold a few hours.

Monday, 28th—Arose long before day; bit a few mouthfuls off the last black frozen biscuit remaining. Saddled up our animals, and, after another laborious day, living on a piece of biscuit not so large as our fist, we entered Provo at dark; raised a posse of men and animals, with provisions, and sent back same night.

These picked up one of our men, whose name was Taylor, who had wandered off ahead of the rest, and had reached within some eight miles of Provo. They found him sunk down in the snow, in a helpless condition, his horse standing by him, and both nearly frozen to death. He lived, but in a measure lost the use of his limbs.

This relief company met those we had left behind somewhere in the southern end of Utah Valley, some twenty miles from Provo. They were entirely out of food and very faint and weary. They were plentifully supplied and safely conducted to the settlement.

I rested a day or two in Provo and then started again for home. After riding thirty-six miles on a mule, I took supper with a friend in Cottonwood, and, leaving the mule, started at sundown and walked the other ten miles which brought me once more to my home. This was about the first of February, 1850.

The company we had left with the wagons and oxen wintered themselves and cattle very well, and finally arrived home in safety in March following.

After my return from my southern exploring expedition I re-entered the Legislature and continued my duties as a member of that body until its annual adjournment.

Some time in this month I again commenced work on my road in Big Canyon Creek, and in getting out timber and wood from the same. I continued this operation during the remainder of the season—obtaining much building and fencing timber and a large quantity of poles. In July I had so far completed the road as to open it for the California emigration. The amount of toll taken this first season was about one thousand five hundred dollars.

The following winter, being re-elected to the Legislative Assembly of the State of Deseret, I devoted much of the time in the duties thereof. I also continued in the duties of my Priesthood. And, lest any time should run to waste, I filled up the interstices not otherwise occupied, in the study of the Spanish language.

During this winter I was called by the First Presidency and set apart to take charge of a General Mission to the Pacific. I composed a song, which was sung before the congregation in the Tabernacle, on the occasion of our departure on this mission, commencing

"Holy, happy, pure and free," etc.

I now close this chapter of my history by saying that my life up to this date has been an eventful one, somewhat hurried and laborious; and, if "variety is the spice of life," I think it may truly be called a spicy one—which circumstance will account for the imperfect sketch I have written of it.