REMOVAL OF THE SMITH FAMILY TO ILLINOIS.

At the time when Joseph went into the enemy's camp, Mr. Smith and myself stood in the door of the house in which we were then living, and could distinctly hear their horrid yellings. Not knowing the cause, we supposed they were murdering him. Soon after the screaming commenced, five or six guns were discharged. At this, Mr. Smith, folding his arms tight across his heart, cried out, "Oh, my God! my God! they have killed my son! they have murdered him! and I must die, for I cannot live without him!"

I had no word of consolation to give him, for my heart was broken within me—my agony was unutterable. I assisted him to the bed, and he fell back upon it helpless as a child, for he had not strength to stand upon his feet. The shrieking continued; no tongue can describe the sound which was conveyed to our ears; no heart can imagine the sensations of our breasts, as we listened to those awful screams. Had the army been composed of so many blood-hounds, wolves, and panthers, they could not have made a sound more terrible.

My husband was immediately taken sick, and never afterwards entirely recovered, yet he lived about two years, and was occasionally quite comfortable, and able to attend meetings.

When they were about starting from Far West, a messenger came and told us that if we ever saw our sons alive, we must go immediately to them, for they were in a wagon that would start in a few minutes for Independence, and in all probability they would never return alive. Receiving this intimation, Lucy and myself set out directly for the place. On coming within about a hundred yards of the wagon, we were compelled to stop, for we could press no further through the crowd. I therefore appealed to those around me, exclaiming, "I am the mother of the Prophet—is there not a gentleman here, who will assist me to that wagon, that I may take a last look at my children, and speak to them ones more before I die?" Upon this, one individual volunteered to make a pathway through the army, and we passed on, threatened with death at every step, till at length we arrived at the wagon. The man who led us through the crowd spoke to Hyrum, who was sitting in front, and, telling him that his mother had come to see him, requested that he should reach his hand to me. He did so, but I was not allowed to see him; the cover was of strong cloth, and nailed down so close, that he could barely get his hand through. We had merely shaken hands with him, when we were ordered away by the mob, who forbade any conversation between us, and, threatening to shoot us, they ordered the teamster to drive over us. Our friend then conducted us to the back part of the wagon, where Joseph sat, and said, "Mr. Smith, your mother and sister are here, and wish to shake hands with you." Joseph crowded his hand through between the cover and wagon, and we caught hold of it; but he spoke not to either of us, until I said, "Joseph, do speak to your poor mother once more—I cannot bear to go till I hear your voice." "God bless you, mother!" he sobbed out. Then a cry was raised, and the wagon dashed off, tearing him from us just as Lucy was pressing his hand to her lips, to bestow upon it a sister's last kiss—for he was then sentenced to be shot.

For some time our house was filled with mourning, lamentation, and woe; but, in the midst of my grief, I found consolation that surpassed all earthly comfort. I was filled with the Spirit of God, and received the following by the gift of prophesy: "Let your heart be comforted concerning your children, they shall not be harmed by their enemies; and, in less than four years, Joseph shall speak before the judges and great men of the land, for his voice shall be heard in their councils. And in five years from this time he will have power over all his enemies." This relieved my mind, and I was prepared to comfort my children. I told them what had been revealed to me, which greatly consoled them.

As soon as William was able to stir about a little he besought his father to move to Illinois, but Mr. Smith would not consent to this, for he was in hopes that our sons would be liberated, and peace again be restored, but finally said that the family might get ready to move, and then, if we were obliged to go, there would be nothing to hinder us.

Our business in Far West had been trading in corn and wheat, as well as keeping a boarding house. When the mob came in, we had considerable grain on hand, but very little flour or meal, therefore we sent a man who was living with us to mill with fourteen sacks of grain; but the miller considered it unsafe to allow the brethren to remain about his premises, as the mob were near at hand, and he was afraid they would burn his buildings. Consequently, the young man returned without his grain, and, for breadstuff, we were for a long time obliged to pound corn in a samp-mortar. Many subsisted altogether upon parched corn for some length of time.

The brethren were all driven in from the country. There was an acre of ground in front of our house, completely covered with beds, lying in the open sun, where families were compelled to sleep, exposed to all kinds of weather; these were the last who came into the city, and, as the houses were all full, they could not find a shelter. It was enough to make the heart ache to see the children, sick with colds, and crying around their mothers for food, whilst their parents were destitute of the means of making them comfortable.

It may be said that, if Joseph Smith had been a Prophet, he would have foreseen the evil, and provided against it. To this I reply, he did all that was in his power to prevail upon his brethren to move into Far West, before the difficulty commenced, and at a meeting, three weeks previous, he urged the brethren to make all possible haste in moving both their houses and their provisions into the city. But this counsel appeared to them unreasonable and inconsistent, therefore they did not heed it. If the brethren at Haun's Mill had hearkened to counsel, it would, without doubt, have saved their lives; but, as the consequences of their negligence are already published, and as my mind is loth to dwell upon these days of sorrow, I shall only give those facts which have not been published.

While the mob was in the city, William went out one day to feed his horse, but the horse was gone. It was not long, however, before a soldier, who had been absent on a dispatch, rode him into the yard. William took the horse by the bridle, and ordered the soldier to dismount, which he did, and left the horse in William's hands again.

The brethren were compelled to lay down their arms, and sign away their property. This was done quite near our house. I distinctly heard General Clark's notable speech; and, without any great degree of alarm, I heard him declare, concerning Joseph and Hyrum, that "their die was cast, their doom was fixed, and their fate was sealed."

Not long after Hyrum was taken, Joseph Fielding, his youngest son, was born. This was Mary's first child. She never saw her husband but once after she became a mother before leaving the state. She suffered beyond description in her sickness, but, in all her afflictions, her sister, Mrs. Thompson, stood by her to nurse and comfort her, and, by the best of attention, she gained sufficient strength to accompany Emma to the prison once before she left the state.

At this time, my husband sent to Joseph to know if it was the will of the Lord that we should leave the state. Whereupon Joseph sent him a revelation which he had received while in prison, which satisfied my husband's mind, and he was willing to remove to Illinois as soon as possible.

After this, William took his own family, without further delay, to Quincy, thence to Plymouth, where he settled himself, and afterwards sent back the team for his father's family.

Just as we got our goods into the wagon, a man came to us and said, that Sidney Rigdon's family were ready to start, and must have the wagon immediately. Accordingly, our goods were taken out, and we were compelled to wait until the team could come after us again. We put our goods into the wagon a second time, but the wagon was wanted for Emma and her family, so our goods were again taken out. However, we succeeded, after a long time, in getting one single wagon to convey beds, clothing, and provisions for our family, Salisbury's family, and Mr. McLeries' family, besides considerable luggage for Don Carlos, who, with his family and the remainder of his baggage, was crowded into a buggy, and went in the same company with us.

The first day we arrived at a place called Tinney's Grove, where we lodged, over night, in an old log house, which was very uncomfortable. Half of the succeeding day I traveled on foot. That night we stayed at the house of one Mr. Thomas, who was then a member of the Church. On the third day, in the afternoon, it began to rain. At night we stopped at a house, and asked permission to stay till morning. The man to whom we applied showed us a miserable out-house, which was filthy enough to sicken the stomach, and told us, if we would clean this place, and haul our own wood and water, we might lodge there. To this we agreed, and, with much trouble, we succeeded in making a place for our beds. For the use of this loathsome hovel, he charged us seventy-five cents. We traveled all the next day in a pouring rain. We asked for shelter at many places, but were refused. At last we came to a place, quite like the one where we spent the previous night. Here we spent the night without fire. On the fifth day, just before arriving at Palmyra, in Missouri, Don Carlos called to Mr. Smith, and said, "Father, this exposure is too bad, and I will not bear it any longer; the first place that I come to that looks comfortable, I shall drive up and go into the house, and do you follow me."

We soon came to a farm house, surrounded with every appearance of plenty. The house was but a short distance from the road, having in front of it a large gate. Through this Don Carlos drove without hesitating to ask the privilege, and, after assisting us through, he started to the house, and, meeting the landlord, he said, "I do not know but that I am trespassing, but I have with me an aged father, who is sick, besides my mother, and a number of women, with small children. We have traveled two days and a half in this rain, and if we are compelled to go much further, we shall all of us die. If you will allow us to stay with you over night, we will pay you almost any price for our accommodation."

"Why, what do you mean, sir!" said the gentleman, "Do you not consider us human beings? Do you think that we would turn anything that is flesh and blood from our door, in such a time as this! Drive up to the house and help your wife and children out; I'll attend to your father and mother and the rest of them." The landlord then assisted Mr. Smith and myself into the room in which his lady was sitting, but as she was rather ill, and he feared that the dampness of our clothing would cause her to take cold, he ordered a black servant to make a fire for her in another room. He then assisted each of our family into the house, and hung up our cloaks and shawls to dry.

At this house we had everything which could conduce to comfort. The gentleman, who was Esquire Mann, brought us milk for our children, hauled us water to wash with, and furnished us good beds to sleep in.

In the evening, he remarked that he was sent by his county, the year before, to the House of Representatives, where he met one Mr. Carroll, who was sent from the county in which the "Mormons" resided; "and if ever," said Esquire Mann, "I felt like fighting any man, it was him. He never once raised his voice, nor even his hand, in behalf of that abused people, once while the House was in session. I was never a member of the House before, and had not sufficient confidence to take a stand upon the floor in their behalf, as I should have done, had I been a man of a little more experience."

After spending the night with this good man, we proceeded on our journey, although it continued raining, for we were obliged to travel through mud and rain to avoid being detained by high water. When we came within six miles of the Mississippi river, the weather grew colder, and, in the place of rain, we had snow and hail; and the ground between us and the river was so low and swampy, that a person on foot would sink in over his ankles at every step, yet we were all of us forced to walk, or rather wade, the whole six miles.

On reaching the Mississippi, we found that we could not cross that night, nor yet find a shelter, for many Saints were there before us, waiting to go over into Quincy. The snow was now six inches deep, and still falling. We made our beds upon it, and went to rest with what comfort we might under such circumstances. The next morning our beds were covered with snow, and much of the bedding under which we lay was frozen. We rose and tried to light a fire, but, finding it impossible, we resigned ourselves to our comfortless situation.

Soon after this, Samuel came over from Quincy, and he with the assistance of Seymour Brunson, obtained permission of the ferryman for us to cross that day. About sunset, we landed in Quincy. Here Samuel had hired a house, and we moved into it, with four other families.